Work Text:
"All right kiddos!" Depa calls, attempting her usual serenity, but her feet are hovering a fraction above the floor giving away her excitement. Mace glares at her. These are his children, he should be the one to do this. "And Master!" She adds with a smug smirk. "Grab all your stuff and form up, we're relocating!"
Mace sighs and floats his cloak over his shoulders. He'll come back for the rest of his things later. Years of experience have taught him that sometimes Depa will get her way. No matter what. It's best just to give in and retain some semblance of dignity.
Depa marches them all through the temple, Mace and his children following behind her like obedient little ducklings.
Mace hides a frown. It still doesn't seem to occur to his children to question any instructions, although they're happy enough to work around them. They'll settle, he reminds himself. They'll find ways of being that work for them. And being sneaky little gremlins was hardly a disadvantage.
Depa stops outside a door, and gestures it opens with a flourish.
"Welcome," she says with a dangerous grin, "my little lineage siblings, to your new home!"
Inside is functionally identical to any set of Jedi rooms, just on a larger scale. Sofas and desks, and a kitchen with a dining table. Rooms for Mace and Depa. And one for his children.
Obi-wan and Cody step into the dorm room, but Boil and Waxer freeze in the doorway, causing Wooley and Trapper to stumble into the back of them. Soon there's a giant pile of children sprawled in the doorway, snickering and grumbling.
Cody has turned around and is watching them all with such a look of disappointment on his face.
"Trainin." He mutters. "Years an years of trainin. Hav marched into so many thins." His voice is slowly rising with annoyance. "So many rooms full of cwazy force-osik. An dis. Dis is what causes stumblin. You're all runnin laps. Wax'ika an Boil'ika will be practicin marchin throo doorways till dey are memberin how walkin works."
From the bottom of the pile of now snickering children come two simultaneous groans.
Numerous bunk beds line the walls, wardrobes and storage chests between them. In the middle of the room is a large sunken pit, the floor and sides made of a soft, slightly springy material, similar to the floor in the training halls. The whole thing is lined with a mess of blankets and pillows.
Obi-wan whoops and darts forwards, diving into it and disappearing as he's promptly swallowed by the bedding. Wooley laughs, bright and gleeful, and follows with a cheer.
Mace ignores them, though he doesn't quite manage to keep the hint of a smile from his face, and turns back to Cody, who's watching with soft resignation.
"There are Freshers through that door," Mace explains, pointing, "and the other doors have a few smaller and individual bunk rooms for anyone who wants quiet or privacy. And there's easy access to the vents for Ace'ika."
There's a hum from Wooley, who has fought his way free of the blankets, and is standing in the middle of the sunken pit, hands on hips as he surveys the space.
"Needin a cot for Grog'ika." He informs them.
Mace bites back a smile. It had only been Artery's "it bein healfy for Jedis to be livin wiv ovver Jedis." that had persuaded Waxer to let Grogu out of his sight. The rest of his children had been almost equally as besotted with the little menace. Waxer had managed to negotiate daily visits for the gremlin.
"What's dis?" Peeler asks, from down the corridor. Everyone heads through to investigate. He's standing in front of a giant square tiled pool, probably not deep enough to cover his children, with seats built in around the edges.
"S bath!" Obi-wan explains excitedly. "S goin in it to be clean an soothin."
"Like der pools on dat planet wiv der bird-fwog tins?" Wooley asks.
"Es!" Obi-wan agrees happily.
"Dey were nice." Peeler agrees thoughtfully. "An we can go in it whenevver we wantin?"
"As long as it doesn't interfere with your education, sleep or mealtimes." Mace agrees. "This space is yours, you can do what you want."
"Right." Mace says. "I have sent you all the coordinates for our destination. If you become separated, you will either meet us there or call a Jedi for help."
The rows of tiny helmets, one ginger head, and one slightly taller hooded one, nod seriously.
However much Mace doesn't like Coruscant, it does have its benefits. No one looks twice at two Jedi leading a group of tiny armoured beings onto a public shuttle.
Well. Until they're nearly there, and his children start going focused in the force. Still and predatory. They shift slightly, the movements looking natural with the swaying of the transport, until Mace, Sifo, Jon and Obi-wan are in the center of a ring of armoured bodies. Obi-wan gives them a long-suffering look. Through their bond he sends Mace the feeling of being followed, and then an eye roll.
"Jaster's ad." Obi-wan signs, hands hidden from anyone else by the press of Mace's other children.
It looks like Mace is going to have to learn how to work around beskar if they're bumping into Mandalorians quite this often.
"Each of you," Mace tells the children arrayed in front of him once they've reached their destination, "get a credit chip. This is your allowance. It gets topped up every month. You can spend it on whatever you like, but you are encouraged to use it to buy things that you will enjoy. The temple will always provide you with the basics, but if you want nicer things, softer blankets, decorations you have chosen, art or crafting supplies of a higher quality, hobbies or sports equipment you can't find in the temple, then you can use these credits."
"Giving us cwedits?" Boil asks in a very quiet voice.
"For buyin tins wiv?" Waxer asks.
"Tins that we wantin to hav?" Longshot seems just as stunned as the others.
Mace takes a deep breath as he releases pure fury into the force. It doesn't matter, he reminds himself. Whatever happened to them before will very much not be happening to them again.
"Unfortunately," Sifo drawls with a smirk, "it's not enough credits for a sniper rifle."
Longshot droops, and Jon releases a pout into the force.
Mace finally spots the small beskar clad Mandalorian that's been following them, perched a little way up on a balcony. His children seemed annoyed by their presence, a little defensive, but not afraid or threatened. And Mace is happy to follow their lead in ignoring them.
"Goin in pairs." Cody demands, "Wiv shoppin buddy. No buyin weapons not weasily congealed. No splosives. An no contwaband. Meetin back here in tree hours."
Mace wanders around, keeping an eye on things. He finds Obi-wan in the bath aisle, carefully clutching a basket full of bubble bath bottles and boxes of dried flowers. Mace nods approvingly. His children deserve nice things, and Obi-wan teaching them about fancy baths is a nice thing. Cody is following at his heel, all proper posture and shiny armour, a stuffed purrgil cradled carefully against his chest.
Artery is holding a giant soft grey plushie mace as big as he is. Complete with fluffy spikes. Mace knows the adorable little terror is smirking unrepentantly.
Cody attempts to stare the mini-medic down.
To no effect.
"Not congealed." Artery points out. "Needs to be a liquid first afore can be congealin."
Cody's stare intensifies.
Artery's force presence is burning with humour. He lifts the stuffed mace and boops Cody over the head with it. It squeaks.
"Holdin dis for me pwease Gen'ika." Cody says, holding out his purrgil, which Obi-wan happily takes.
Artery legs it, cackling as he goes, and Cody calmly watches him go.
"Getting my wengance later." Cody tells Mace in response to his raised eyebrow. "Wen he's not spectin it."
"Not havin his shoppin buddy." Obi-wan points out, sounding mildly concerned, but radiating mischievous glee in the force.
Mace knows his cue. He stalks after his quarry.
"Master Wimdu?" Mace looks down at a contingent of his children led by Trapper.
"Can we paint der walls?"
"Yes."
"Can we put hooks in der walls?"
"Yes."
"Can we -"
Mace raises an eyebrow, cutting him off.
"Short of destroying the walls, you can do whatever you like. It's your space."
Trapper's helmet tilts slightly, as his force presence shades with bemusement.
"Oh." He says eventually. "Tanku Master Wimdu."
Wooley leans out from behind Trapper.
"Can you define destwoyin pwease Master Wimdu?" He asks, utterly innocent.
"Any damage leading to structural instability." Mace obliges.
Wooley nods.
"Can be workin wiv dat."
"Master Wimdu!"
Mace looks down at Waxer, who's holding up a frog plushie for his inspection.
"Is Grog'ika likin dis on?"
Mace studies the frog.
"In all honesty," he says, "he'll probably try and eat it."
"Den bein sad wen not digestin." Waxer concludes. He gives a resolute nod, and turns back to the shelves. Beside him, Boil holds up what looks like a little green hooded blanket with big eyes and frog ears.
"What if he bein der fwog?"
"Ooooh!" Waxer interrupts, "look!" He holds up a blanket covered in tiny cartoon lightsabers. "Gettin it for Gen'ika." Boil perks up and bounces over, rifling through the others. He pulls out one covered in suns with little smiley faces on, looking extremely pleased with himself. Waxer cackles.
Jon is standing in the middle of an aisle looking utterly lost. It turns out the poor kid had never owned anything. If Dark Woman wasn't already dead, Mace would be having strong words with her. Possibly involving a lightsaber.
"Ah," Stitch says, rounding the corner, Shrink on his heels. "Dere you are. Seeing dis and tinking it bein for you." He holds out a scarf in a gentle green-grey. "Fits wiv fowest asfetic. Colour looking good wiv you. Weflectin pwetty eyes. Can be wappin wound face if needin to be hidin. An is pleasinly soft."
Sifo appears at his shoulder, and Mace leans slightly into him without looking round. His children are so spectacularly kind.
"Thank you." Jon rasps, taking the scarf.
"Come on." Shrink says, holding out a hand. "You are practsin buyin self tins by buying tins for me."
"Shrink'ika!" Stitch hisses, and Jon laughs, taking Shrink's hand and allowing himself to be pulled along.
The room, once his children have finished with it, looks completely different. They've bought things not only for themselves, but for each other as well. There's piles of bright blankets and colourful bedding. More cushions and pillows than Mace has ever seen in his life. The walls are covered with draped fabrics and posters, and carefully framed art. Murals of trees and greenery as a backdrop. Small lamps give everything a soft warm glow. Tiny lanterns are strung between the bunks. Some of the children had tied paintbrushes to sticks, and others had rigged up a harness system, painting the ceiling black and filling it with stars and galaxies that glow in the dark. And throughout everything runs similar shades of bright orange-gold, tying everything together.
Mace steps into the kitchen. Every vertical surface is plastered with flimsi, covered in crayon drawings. He pauses for a long minute, feeds the flare of vicious satisfaction into the force, then cautiously approaches the nearest wall and studies the artwork.
The first is a whole load of brown scribbles that are still somehow recognisably him. The text above it reads "GAlxys besS beiN".
Oh. Those are a lot of feelings. Overflowing him and out into the force.
Underneath, in smaller letters, the writing continues "ecEpt foR GeN'ika." Which is completely fair.
Next to it is another, showing him holding hands with a line of smaller armoured figures. Then there's one which after a second of squinting looks like the stuffed green and purple krayt dragon Boil had picked out. The lettering says "WagOn saYs tanKu".
Another scribble of brown, this one with what can only be a purple lightsaber. It's labeled "beSt buiR".
He stares at the next for a while, trying to decipher all the red, before he realises it's an anatomically correct human heart.
Mace blindly raises his com.
"Plo, help." He murmurs. "I'm melting!"