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“And if we look in this quadrant, class, we find Corellia, as well as it’s smaller neighbors Nubia and Duro. Now, who can tell me-”
“Master Xavier?”
Charles stopped manipulating the galactic holo-diagram to look up, searching the sea of cross-legged, tan-clad children for the interrupter. One of his favorite parts of teaching the younglings was how inquisitive they were, but it wasn’t like them to butt in in the middle of a lesson. Still, who was he to begrudge them an opportunity to learn, especially when discussing something as foundational as galactic geography? It was important for them to understand interplanetary distance and relations from a young age, and if Charles could spice up the lesson with personal anecdotes of the strange and far-fetched creatures he’d encountered on any one of the given planets, well, that just cemented his place as the youngling’s favorite guest-teacher.
“Yes, Raven. What is it?”
The young Clawdite girl blinked her bright, owlish eyes, which were fixed on the doorframe at Charles’ back. “There’s someone outside the classroom, Master.”
Charles turned, holding in a sigh, bracing for Moira to interrupt his time with the younglings to yet again call him away to urgent business in the lab (or worse, off-planet). He’d only just gotten back from an extended stay on Hoth to study the native biodiversity, for the Force’s sake, and he wasn’t about to go freeze his arse off again just to-
He was met with a familiar glinting purple dome, and his heart gave an involuntary stutter. “Erik,” he managed, mouth suddenly dry.
Erik was leaning against the doorframe, armor recently repaired, Charles could see, though the familiar scuffs and scratches could still be vaguely made out under the buffing and touch-ups. Charles knew every groove and dent in that beskar. Probably nearly as well as he knew the body and mind of the man underneath.
“Charles,” Erik answered, and damn if that one syllable wasn’t enough to set Charles’ heart racing all over again in spite of itself. “I asked Master McCoy where you were. I had no idea you were busy with a class.” Through the modulator in his helmet, Erik’s voice sounded metallic, but Charles didn’t miss the note of mischief in his words.
“And yet you’re still here, outside my classroom. Distracting my students,” Charles bantered right back. And their teacher, too.
“My apologies, Master Xavier. If you’d like me to leave…” Erik gestured vaguely behind him into the hallway, and Charles exhibited great restraint by not rolling his eyes in front of his impressionable class.
“Impossible, honestly,” he muttered privately, half to Erik and half to himself. Charles waved him through the door and Erik was immediately fixed upon by over a dozen pairs (and sometimes quartets, or more) of eyes. “Class, it looks like we’ll be having a guest today. Yes, Sean,” Charles called on the young mon calamari, who was fidgeting urgently as he raised his hand.
“Are you a droid?” Sean blurted at Erik, seemingly entranced by his shiny armor.
“Obviously he’s not! He’s alive under there, I can hear his heartbeat!” Cried Jean, a young Togruta girl who’s force sensitivity was already so strong it had enhanced some of her senses.
“Why are you all metal, then?”
“I mean, you can see his elbows and stuff, he’s clearly not all metal-”
“Fine, maybe I want to know why he’s part metal-”
“Class!” Charles intoned firmly, a little mortified. The kids were naturally inquisitive, and some part of him rationalized this, but the other half felt guilty for putting Erik under the metaphorical microscope. “Let’s settle down, please. Back to your seats. And you are being very impolite to our guest.”
“It’s all right, Charles. They’re just curious.” As Charles used his patented stern look to encourage his class to be seated once again, Erik maneuvered himself through the sea of gazes to Charles’ side. “How many of you know what a Mandalorian is?”
Two or three hands shot up, definitely in the minority. Erik pointed to one, a human boy named Scott. Clearly, Charles noted amusedly, Erik was reveling in playing teacher.
“Mandalorians are warriors from the outer rim. They have metal armor they always wear and they sometimes like Jedi but sometimes they don’t,” Scott recited, eager to show his knowledge in front of the unfamiliar guest.
“Very good. Yes, my people originally come from Mandalore. It’s a planet very far away from here.”
Charles quickly turned to the holo-diagram to pull up a map of the Outer Rim, zeroing in on Mandalore. Maybe he could salvage the geography lesson, though it would take a different turn.
“Mandalore’s natural resources include beskar, which is the metal Mandalorian armor is made of,” Charles supplemented, pulling up some additional statistics alongside the holo.
“Beskar is very important to Mandalorians. We use it to make armor to protect ourselves, and to protect the people we fight for.”
“Do you miss it there?” Jean piped up.
Erik paused. “I miss it every day. But I also know that I can help a lot of people by being out here instead.”
“I miss my planet too, sometimes,” Jean mumbled quietly.
“Master Erik?” Cut in Sean again, “Do you have a face under your helmet?”
Erik chuckled at that. “I do have a face under my helmet. I’m human, but Mandalorians don’t have a species to call their own. We are all siblings under the creed we share, no matter what we look like beneath our helmets. We all wear the beskar, so we are all Mandalorians.”
Erik was then bombarded by a slew of ‘Master Erik’s’ from all different sides, the shyer students evidently getting over their apprehension to sate their burning curiosity.
“Just Erik is fine,” he attempted, before Charles cut in.
“No, you’re their elder. Class, to address Mandalorians, the proper term is Alor . Can we try saying it?”
“ Alor ,” the children repeated in dutiful tandem.
“ Alor Erik?” Raven raised her hand.
“Yes, adiik .”
“Can I…” Raven began. She looked nervous, which was out of character. Charles knew her as one of his most boisterous students. “Can I touch your helmet?”
“Of course,” Erik replied, though he seemed a bit surprised by the request. Nonetheless, he crouched down as Raven made her way forward and laid a small hand on the red and purple dome.
“Whoa. Astral!” She breathed in awe.
This exclamation began a whole new wave of requests to also come up and touch Alor’s helmet, along with some bolder questions.
“Can I hold your blade?” cried Alex, Scott’s younger brother who was notorious for asking various Jedi around the temple if he could ‘try out’ their lightsabers.
“How do you go to the bathroom in your armor?” asked another student, puzzled.
“ Class. ” Charles admonished once again, fighting to keep desperation out of his voice. “I’m sure Erik would be happy to let you all touch his helmet at the end of class. For now, let’s sit down and go back to the holo-diagram to see-” It was a losing battle, of course. All this time he’d taken being their favorite teacher for granted, only to be beaten at his own game.
Erik seemed to notice Charles’ failing attempts at classroom control, as he stood and held up a gloved hand. The rabble immediately fell silent. Show-off.
Ever in tune with Charles, Erik ghosted a hand at the small of his back with the pretense of switching places with him to near the holo, a wordless don’t be jealous, ner ka’rta. Charles studiously ignored the swoop in his gut at Erik’s touch. They would undoubtedly have time for a proper reunion when Charles was finished with his teaching duties. Or, he supposed, when Erik was finished doing them in his stead. It seemed the younglings were fascinated by their guest.
“How much longer do we have?” Erik asked as an aside.
“Forty-five Coruscant minutes,” Charles supplied, glancing at the monitor display beneath the holo-diagram.
“Perfect.” Erik tapped a few controls, enlarging the hologram of Mandalore and engaging the topographical features.
“Mandalorians knew Mandalore would be our home because of the perfect resources it provided us. When my people first found beskar…”
Charles let himself drift, becoming half-engaged in Erik’s tales for the younglings and half-high on processing the fact that Erik was back, here at the temple again. It had been far too long, almost a full Coruscant year, since he’d seen Erik, both of them caught up in missions for their respective superiors, and hard-pressed to find time to see each other in the in-between. Erik’s presence meant, most likely, that Charles and he would be traveling off-world soon on some high-profile covert-ops assignment, a raid on a rogue clone lab or an infiltration of Separatist scientific facilities to steal and corrupt their data. He and Erik were a package deal for any missions of the sort, Charles as the scientific brains, and Erik accompanying him as an additional protection detail. Charles was a favorite of the Council for his unobtrusive reconnaissance and his quiet way of dispatching threats, and it was well known he all but refused to work politically charged gigs without the Mandalorian. His Mandalorian. Though he’d be damned sure to make sure the Council never knew about that.
The class wrapped up with relatively few interruptions, though Erik made a special point of answering the youngling’s questions whenever they arose. When class ended, Charles reminded the children to give Alor Erik a special thank-you as they walked out the door, and was unsurprised as they all rushed forward to make good on the promise of touching Erik’s helmet.
“You are the most awesome person I’ve ever met!” Sean bubbled excitedly as he tapped Erik’s chestplate experimentally. “I’m sorry for thinking you were a droid.”
As soon as the last of the children filed out, Charles shut the door. They both moved at once, Charles enveloping Erik in a tight embrace, ignoring the way the edges of Erik’s armor dug into his skin as he pressed his face into the crook of Erik’s neck. Erik cradled Charles’ head and began stroking his hair.
“You’ve let it grow out,” Erik observed, murmuring against him. His voice was still obscured by his helmet.
Charles let out a puff of laughter. “Really. We’re properly alone and that’s all you have to say to me?”
“I like it. You look good.” And Charles was certain that second comment wasn’t just about his hair.
“I could say the same to you,” Charles replied, pulling back to fully take in the sight of his beloved. Erik was as lovely as ever, strong in his wiry, long-limbed way that made Charles’ heart constrict at the sight of him. Charles allowed his hands to smooth down across Erik’s chestplate before settling on his waist.
Erik leaned forward and gently pressed his helmeted forehead to Charles’. Charles’ eyes fluttered shut. “Darling. I missed you so much…”
“I missed you too, cyar’ika .”
They stood there for a moment, reveling in the other’s presence. Charles finally broke the silence, though rather reluctantly.
“There’s another class in here soon. We should get moving.”
“Right. Yes, of course,” Erik murmured, a desperation in his tone that Charles knew all too well. Charles opened the door and stepped out, aching with the loss of contact, but intent on receiving more as soon as possible.
“Walk me to my quarters, Alor ,” Charles grinned, falsely officious. “And fill me in on whatever bantha-brained mission they’ve called you in to convince me of this time.”
“But of course, Master Xavier,” Erik replied, falling into step with him. Charles could hear the hint of a smirk in his voice. “You’re terrible, you know. Blowing off your assigned lessons, to invite a strange man in and teach them Mando’a instead-”
“As I recall, I wasn’t the one who hovered outside a classroom until he was noticed by the teacher. A rather strange thing to do, wouldn’t you agree? You’re lucky you ran into such an understanding instructor, or else you could have faced disciplinary action. Lurking, and such, it’s generally frowned upon.” Charles fought futilely to keep the smile off his face long enough to keep up the farce of scolding Erik. Erik leaned closer and said low in his ear:
“I would be more than happy to face certain disciplinary action from you, Jetii mesh’la .”
Charles fought the blush that crept to his cheeks, and he sped up his walking pace. “You’re a flirt, you know. What’s Mando’a for flirt?”
“ Riduur, ner Jetii.”
Charles’ blush deepened even further. “You’re impossible. Absolutely incorrigible.”
“I know,” replied Erik, and Charles could practically see his adoring smile in his mind's eye.