Chapter Text
Despite their best efforts, the secret only lasted a month at most.
Plo Koon stared at his door, already knowing who was gonna be on the other side. There was an incessant banging, but not to alert him of anything important but seemingly just out of annoyance. The Force warned of no danger, seeming more entertained than anything. Still, Plo flinched at a particularly hard hit. He decided right then to buy Master Vant some special tea blends the next time he was traveling. Although that may not be for a while…
His dear visitor seemed to think he was taking too long, as the door was unlocked with the Force and swung open dramatically. Plo couldn’t stop a small noise of amusement. Some things never change.
Mace Windu stood in Plo’s doorway, arms crossed and staring down the old Jedi Master. Logically, Plo knew it was meant to be intimidating - and to anyone else it would be - but Plo only saw the young initiate that used to pout until Plo agreed to participate in his “theater act.”
(The act was actually shadow puppets, as Plo’s hands had the extra muscles needed to make some very impressive puppets. Young Mace, as the director of the fine show, would give Plo a script written neatly in crayon and have him perform over and over until he got the voices and movements just right.)
(Plo’s sure he still has his script of The Super Duper Evil Mastermind of Naboo somewhere in his quarters. However, Mace might’ve found it and tore it up the last time he was over for tea.)
Plo smiled at the memory, an action that seemed to deeply offend the esteemed Master of the Order that stood before him. Mace huffed, and glanced around Plo’s room as if looking for that damned script.
“Plo, where is he?”
“Who?” At Mace’s glare, Plo only chuckled.
“You know who.”
“My dear boy, you have to be more specific than that. I am not a mind reader after all.” At that, a vein almost popped out of Mace’s forehead.
There was a small ring in the Force, and Mace’s eyes moved to somewhere right above Plo's head. Mace took a deep breath and covered his face with his hands.
“Please tell me that you’re the one floating the tooka plushie over your head.”
“I am the one floating the tooka plushie over my head.”
There was another ring in the Force, and Mace peeked through his fingers.
“And the pillow?”
“Also me.”
Mace sighed again, and this time it was pained. Poor thing, Plo thought. Has to deal with senators all day and now stuck doing Master Yoda’s errands in the middle of the night. Or it was the middle of night, Plo glanced out his window at the rising sun. Every day Plo thanks the Force that Yoda boldly rejected the idea of nominating Plo for Master of the Order, saying he was “too prone to attachment.” (Plo wouldn’t necessarily disagree, especially with recent events.)
Plo was too deep in his thoughts to notice Mace grabbing the pillow out of the air and swinging full force at the Kel Dor. With a squawk, Plo fell backwards and right over the tea table, landing in a puddle of room temperature tea (the tea cups were thankfully shatterproof, but they sure dug into his back). There was a bright chime in the force and a giggle from the cracked closet door. As Plo locked eyes with Mace, there was a repeated squawk from the closet, followed by more carefree giggling.
At Mace’s look, Plo just smiled. Mace sighed again, sounding far older than he was. I should get him a fruit basket, or maybe even a ticket to the new theater production.
“Is the arrangement working at least?” Plo nodded.
“The youngling hasn’t experienced a single night terror since this whole thing began, and I haven’t made any unconscious trips to the creche since. Why, even Vokara is praising his improved growth!”
Mace’s eyes took on a soft edge and he dropped the pillow on the ground.
“I guess that’s all that matters then.”
Mace walked over and pulled the old Master up from the ground. As Plo walked Mace to the door, Mace glanced at his old friend and father figure.
“You know, the other council members are already wary of your ‘accidental’ imprinting on the youngling. If they find out about this, they might come directly for you and your position.”
Plo was silent for a moment, and Mace turned to look directly at him as he crossed the doorway. Plo had his head down, as if contemplating his words. Then Plo looked up at Mace with a challenge in his eyes that reminded Mace of why Kel Dors are recognized as a carnivorous species.
“They can try.”
Mace stared at him with a knowing look before nodding. As he walked away, there was a repeated sigh from the closet door, and Plo let out a loud cackle. Mace glanced back at him, and this time he had a small smile on his face.
“You owe me Master Plo.”
“Without a doubt, Master Windu.”
- - -
As Plo locked the door, he took a deep breath and fixed his expression. Then he turned around and gestured for the closet to open with the Force. Little Obi-Wan drifted gently towards him, spinning in circles and giggling so hard, Plo couldn’t help but laugh as well. He hugged the youngling close to his chest.
“They can try, my little echo.”