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“Dad, dad, dad,” Ezra repeats endlessly, twisting in his master’s hold. Trying and failing desperately to catch the tooka running around the older man’s feet.
Candidly Kanan ignores the four year old squirming in his grasp, continuing to have a heated discussion with the vendor in front of him.
Meiloorun have never cost so much!
The market’s other patrons bore holes through them in the meantime, at least none of them come off as malicious.
In fact Kanan can feel their amusement in the air. All of which brought by Ezra’s antics and his own straight face to them.
Several people seemed ready to chime in, either to argue with the vendor for up-charging the kark out of the bumpy fruit or just to help the pair along so the boy could go back to playing rather than shopping.
Kanan honestly was more than ready to let them step in, needing the fruit for Hera, and his arm could use a break.
Ezra wasn’t heavy by any means, but holding anything for a prolonged period proved itself to be a tall task.
It’s true he could simply set Ezra down, surely some little old ladies nearby were wondering why he hadn’t let the rambunctious four year old loose but that’d only be more trouble than the vendor in front of him.
He didn’t trust Ezra not to accost the loth-cat that’d intrigued him, and getting hurt in some way because of it.
Not to mention the force and Ezra’s unique connection to the critters occupying it.
If someone noticed anything off with any potential interaction the boy had with the tooka, that could be it.
Kanan wouldn’t risk it, in the same way he wouldn’t risk testing if someone would actually take the boy.
The thoughts spurred on that were obviously in jest.
Older women and lonely parents whose kids have left the nest exclaiming they could just pick up the toddler and never let go.
But Kanan didn’t have the heart to figure out if those comments proved to be true, so he holds Ezra steadfast in his arm until Ezra deflates.
Ultimately realizing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere before fisting his fingers into his tunic and resting his head against his shoulder.
Coincidentally it’s then when Ezra is calm in his grasp that the vendor relents. Murmuring the meiloorun were priced the way they are due to their rarity on Lothal - which was true - but it didn’t facilitate the nearly eighty percent price hike.
Kanan can’t help the smug yet relieved smile that involuntarily takes up his face when the alien finally bags up Hera’s requested meilooruns.
“Alright Ezra, we can play just as soon as we get home,” Kanan informs the toddler's hair, realizing as he carefully fits the fruit into his bag one handed that Ezra’s fallen asleep.
Effectively tuckered out.
Sitting on the floor, mindlessly Ezra moves around his toys. Not once looking up at the loud footsteps passing him by.
Not even as each footfall has his little body slightly lifting off the ground.
Zeb is careful not to step on the kid, big hand moving to gently pat blue hair before lowering a stuffed tooka purrgil that has the boy’s little lungs inhaling sharply.
True to life the stuffed animal dwarfed the other tooka’s the boy was surrounded by. His affinity for animals is shown clearly by the assortment.
Ezra never showed any interest in more humanoid figurines, or of anything quote on quote alien.
Which was probably a good thing, especially when after the clone wars there was a surplus of clone trooper dolls, and due to Imperial presence storm trooper ones as well.
The toddler never wanted either, more than content and enthusiastic to get his grubby little hands on a fluffy Bantha plush or a sparkly Varactyl. The shimmer meant to resemble their scales.
Zeb doesn’t stick around to hear the tikes' gratitude, preferring his small acts of kindness to go by unprompted and unquestioned. That way no one could claim he’d gone soft.
Or that had a soft spot for their resident padawan.
He didn't. A lie.
Zeb promised he didn’t as he leaned against the wall outside the door, ears twitching as he listened to the content sounds of a child playing.
No one could claim Hera Syndulla wasn’t a busy woman. Having survived what war had wrought on her home planet of Ryloth before becoming one of the most invaluable members of the rebellion.
That’s on top of the fact that the Twi’lek just so happened to be a mother of two, in a way three if one decided to count her rather volatile droid Chopper.
One of which a teenage girl who just so happened to be a Mandalorian pyromaniac and the other a four-year-old force sensitive.
Although the work she did and the hope she brought was rewarding, it didn’t compare to the joy her children and family brought her.
“He decided he was going to wait up for you,” Her husband tells her as soon as she steps into the Ghost after an arduous meeting with Sato.
Her youngest held in his arms, his little orange onesie clad arms reaching for her.
Sapphire eyes, although weighed down with fatigue as he should have been in bed two hours ago, shined brightly with his want for her.
Hera is helpless not to take him into her arms, sending a scolding but not entirely mirthful look at her Jedi in the meanwhile.
Sheepishly Kanan shrugs and Hera doesn’t really blame him, if Ezra wanted to stay up there was little anyone could do to set him down.
Especially since the very talented youngling force sensitive remained unbothered by his master’s sleep suggestions.
Ezra curls his head immediately into the expanse of her throat, little arms curling around the straps of her flight suit.
His yawn is barely heard, mainly felt by the soft warmth of his breath as Hera lifts her head after a chaste kiss to the toddlers temple to claim a kiss from her husband.
Kanan is all too happy to indulge, careful not to accidentally smother Ezra between them as he drifts closer.
“I’m assuming things went well?”
“If they didn’t I would have been gone another hour,” Hera tiredly reports, viridescent fingers soothing through the now sleeping toddlers' hair.
“Mmm,” Kanan hums faux thoughtfully, “I don’t think he would have lasted that long,” the man then notes lowly. Chest rumbling against the sleeping boy’s back.
Hera huffs the smallest of laughs, her tone quickly matching her husbands, “No I don’t think so,” her pitch heightens, “Although he’s surprised us before.”
“That he has.” They both knew that to be the truth.
“Come on, let’s put him to bed. We can sleep in tomorrow.”
“Sleep in? Is this the Hera Syndulla I’m talking to?” Kanan jokes as they saunter down the hallway to set Ezra in the cot prepared in Kanan’s old bedroom.
“You’ll have to find out,” Hera croons, grabbing the Jedi by the collar and hauling him back to their room.
While Sabine is a very attentive caretaker to her second younger brother. Ezra finds the most amount of trouble and excitement in her care.
Then again one might not find that so surprising.
The Mandalorian left a lot in her wake. A variety of paint, whether that be from spray cans, cartons, and even paintballs. Gun powder, nitroglycerin, loose nails and sharp tools followed her.
One might not call her the most cuddly either, not with the hard plates of her armor, and the big jetpack that offset her slim physique.
All of this means nothing in the end, as Sabine worked around every one of these things.
Ezra never again unwillingly had paint on some part of him, or had stuffed his mouth and pockets with her artillery.
She’d since learned every lesson, thankfully already knowing a fair bit since this wasn’t the first brother she’d helped raise.
The main reason the girl didn’t know how to handle everything now happened to be the force.
Something she had little to no experience in, so it’s just her luck every little milestone the boy’s come by almost exclusively happened first under her watch.
It’d been her to realize Ezra’s connection with animals when she’d brought him into a shop with her to pick up some pieces and a rat skittered right up to Ezra and then actively listened to the directive movements the toddler had pointed out.
His first active burst of energy happened by her side as well. When one of her firecrackers had gone off just a second too early.
Ezra’s young ears hadn’t quite been covered by the headphones she put on him for such occasions.
And in his fright a small rock that Ezra had been looking at quizzically earlier had exploded.
Thankfully not close enough to hurt any of them. Its contents reveal the rock to actually be a geode.
At first the Mandalorian had nearly passed the event off as a result of one of her own bombs also going off prematurely, but when Ezra - geode in hand - triumphantly exclaimed: “No heavy!” She understood all too clearly what had happened.
Ezra, still perplexed by the geode having been lighter than the other rocks he’d been fiddling with, accidentally cracked it open with the force when he’d been startled out of his musings.
That instance is where the reputation is born.
When the toddler found himself in his older sister’s care, the Ghost crew always readied themself to hear some amazing new feat.
Especially Kanan.
Who sometimes asked too much, especially about things Sabine couldn’t exactly answer.
How was she supposed to know if Ezra actively concentrated to make something happen or if he just miraculously did it?
Sabine always took each event and Kanan’s subsequent questioning in stride though, knowing the man happened to be a little bit jealous none of these firsts ever happened around him.
“I think you inspire him,” Hera notes in explanation when Sabine wonders herself why she is present for all the younglings firsts.
Considering the very purple and blue drawing Ezra hands her of what she assumes is the two of them holding hands, that must be true.
The youngling doesn’t have much interest in droids, not when they're relatively the opposite of his favorite thing ever. Hell the closest thing to something mechanical that Ezra had ever shown any interest in was a toy Luggabeast.
An animal covered in armor so often their true faces were only ever seen when they were first born in the harsh dunes of Jakku.
Other than that, Ezra paid no interest to the small droids or plush ones vendors always tried to pass off as amazing gifts and even caretakers for young children!
That makes the younglings' relationship with their resident droid odd. He didn’t seem to mind his presence.
Truthfully the boy was indifferent unless the droid annoyed him or did something to their resident lasat to make the boy laugh.
Hera had set very firm boundaries for the droid in their interactions:
No shocks, not running into him, basically nothing that could physically harm him - and thankfully the droid respected that but it didn’t stop it from annoying the boy.
The needy astromech clearly had trouble computing how something couldn’t always acknowledge its presence.
Meaning it had to get attention. And similar to a child, all attention was good attention.
So the droid runs over the boy’s stuffed animals to the point Hera or Sabine has to detangle them from its tracks and struts.
It antagonizes Zeb more pointedly than it ever had in the past, and it bangs against the tables whenever Ezra is set at any flat surface.
Scattering his food and sometimes ruining his drawings. This has led to plenty of tears and frustrated warbles the crew had to step in to rectify.
But sometimes, the pair surprise them, especially when Ezra figures out Chopper could project images of the creatures he loved so dearly.
“Wof!” Ezra requests without the proper L with a clap of his hands, the droid complying with a pleased wiggle now that it had the attention it wanted.
“YAY!”
Hera sits back with a smile, her hands holding Ezra’s as the boy sits in her lap. The pair of them watch with amused smiles as both Kanan and Zeb chase Chopper around with fervor.
The droid had taken the winnings of their sabacc game after the pair had started to argue who the real winner was. And Sabine pulls up a seat beside them with a folding chair, having been the referee of their game.
“Kanan won but apparently with his strategy in Zeb’s words it wasn’t possible for him to win.”
“Ah,” Hera notes knowingly, unsurprised, before puppeteering the little boy in her lap to dance around a bit while Ezra giggled and leaned happily into her movements.
His little fingers carefully holding onto her own digits.
Fondly Sabine rolls her eyes at all of their antics and breathes it all in. Never had the Mandalorian believed this rag-tag crew would become a proper family. But here they were.