Din is always the attentive one. It’s always Din who looks after Corin, who makes sure he’s okay and has everything he needs. Corin decides to try to repay him a little. When Corin had been worried that Din would not approve of him making a big deal out of the little bean’s birthday, he’d been proven wrong by Din being his kind and generous self, not only approving of the idea but also joining in with enthusiasm and delight. It was yet another gem of a memory in the life with Din that Corin will cling to until his dying day and it has given him an idea: when is Din Djarin’s birthday?
He can’t ask Din, that would ruin the surprise, so he does the second best thing.
Sneaking off, he maneuvers through hallways until he arrives at the room he hopes, with a little good luck, holds the answer.
Knocking, he waits. It takes a moment, which he suspects is due to putting the helmet back on, but eventually the door do unlock and slides open.
Corin opens his mouth to ask his question but he’s quickly shocked into mute surprise by what he sees.
Paz’ helmet is familiar enough, but the man is not wearing his armour, just regular clothing! It’s not hard to deduct from the civilian clothing, his t-shirt and sweatpants, and the towel hanging around his neck that he’s just come out from a shower.
No armor! Corin realizes he’s basically seeing the man in his kriffing underwear and embarrassed heat flares up in his face. “I’m sorry, I, uh, I just…” Corin stutters. “I…”
“You, yes, that is you, good boy. Such a clever boy.” Raga drawls. She’s wearing her helmet and her armor, thank the stars, and she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with Liita sitting cross-legged in front of her as Raga braids her dark hair.
“Raga,” Paz admonishes halfheartedly, “be nice.” Good luck has him in a good mood.
Corin has half a second to feel gratitude for the words in his defense before a huge arm goes around his shoulders and he’s side against side with Paz. Without his armor! Corin can feel human warmth instead of Beskar. He can’t look at Paz, so Corin stares at Raga and the stone-faced Liita instead.
“No one can be this pretty and be blessed with brains too.” Paz finishes, and, yeah, that’s more like him. So much for good luck.
Raga glances over at them and snorts a faint laugh. “Okay, Corin, what’s on your mind?”
-No armor!
“A question…” Corin manages to choke the words out. “I was just wondering when-”
“What’s going on here?” Din’s voice cuts him off and, wow, does he sound displeased. Of course bad luck would send him this way at this moment.
While that would usually be enough to make Corin’s stomach clench with anxiety, he doesn’t get the chance to freak out over the tone of voice as he’s too surprised at by Paz suddenly wrapping him up in a hug with both arms and squeezing him tight.
Corin has never felt so small and frail in his life.
“Corin just realized he wanted to upgrade to a real Mandalorian.” Paz’ voice is pure evil.
The innuendo makes Corin’s face flare up to supernova hot with embarrassment. Despite knowing Paz is just provoking Din with words that not a single soul on the planet, Paz included, believes, the fact that he’s saying them without his armor on makes it impossible to ignore.
“Ha. Ha.” Din replies, not amused in the tiniest bit. “Let. Him. Go.” There is a promise of violence in every word.
“Guys.” Corin leans back and pushes himself free with ease as Paz lets go without a fight. “Don’t. Paz, Din, don’t.”
Despite wearing a helmet, there is no doubt that Paz is wearing an obnoxious smirk and watches Din like a predator batting his prey around. And Din, despite also wearing a helmet, is glaring viciously back at him.
“Din…” Corin pleads, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm. “Please?”
He can almost ‘hear’ Din grinding his teeth as he tries to get his temper under control and eventually succeeds.
Din gives a sharp nod.
Relieved, thanking his good luck, Corin glances back at Raga. “Raga. I need to ask you something later. Alone. Okay?”
Focused on her work on Liita’s hair, Raga shrugs.
Corin turns to Din, who is giving him a suspicious helmet-tilt, but he eases his Mandalorian to turn around and for them to walk away. “Yes, it is a secret, Din. But I’m hoping you might like it.”
Din makes a thoughtful sound, his shoulders easing down and hands unclenching, clearly curious and distracted by this, and Corin has a moment of triumph over how he’d managed to defuse the situation for once.
Bad luck cackles.
Too late he sees Paz pulling the towel from behind his neck to hold it between his hands and spin it around to twirl it into a weapon. He then quickly snaps the towel forward by just holding on to one end and delivers a sounding whip across Din’s butt.
WHAP!
The effect is instantaneous. Din roars with fury, spins around and charges directly into Paz, who grabs a hold of his backplate and flings him away to slam against the wall, and the fight is on.
Liita looks over at the two taking turns at slamming each other into the walls, both of them grunting with effort and the discomfort, and Corin yelling their names. “You could stop them, Raga.”
“I could.” Raga agrees, squinting her eyes a little as she works on a rather complicated bit of the braid.
“Why don’t you?”
Laughing a little, ignoring Paz’ sound of pain as Din’s fist hits his unprotected ribs and Din’s wheeze when Paz shoulder-tackles him in return, Raga keeps working. “If I was to stop them every time they get into a fight, I wouldn’t be doing anything else with my life.” She shrugs. “I only step in when there’s danger of them really hurting each other or Din getting out of line.”
“Din?” Liita frowns, seeing how Paz is so obviously the bigger of the two. “What about Paz?”
“Paz is a bully.” Raga says with fondness, then pauses before quietly adding; “But Din is a killer.”
“What does that make you?” Liita asks.
“A genius.” Raga states, leaning back and admiring Liita’s hair. “An utter genius. This may be some of my best work, if I do say so myself.”
Seeing how words do not reach Paz and Din, Corin does the one thing he hopes will work and that he hates doing; he jumps between them. Curling up, closing his eyes, he waits for the pain.
It never comes. Good luck is on his side.
Corin carefully opens his eyes and sees both Mandalorians glaring at each other but refusing to risk harming Corin by trying to keep the fight going. Thank Mandalor. If this didn’t work, Corin would have had to physically drag Raga over to them and he suspects that would hurt more than getting punched by Paz and Din at the same time.
“Enough!” Corin snaps. He reaches out and shoves one hand at each man’s chest, making them back up a step. “Me and Din are leaving.” Corin then points up at Paz’ visor with such force that the blue helmet actually flinches back a little. “And you; get dressed!”
Dragging the sulking Din along, Corin hears Paz’ confused mumble; “But I ‘am’ dressed…?” and notes Din’s discrete rubbing where the towel was bound to have left a mark.
