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It’s rare that Fox interacts with a kid if they’re not one of the Jedi’s littluns. Sometimes he’s posted outside of the Temple and the brown-robed younglings always say hello, but the majority of Fox’s work takes place in his poor excuse for an office, so he’s not exactly what someone would call a kid whisperer.
Still, these ones seem to like him.
He’s had eyes on the gaggle of kids for a few minutes now, notable only because at the sight of him they whisper and point. He’s used to it, but it’s hard to ignore, especially when they decide as a unit that they’re going to march through the few inches of snow that Coruscant had programmed for the day and stand nervously by Fox’s right side.
“Do you kids need help?” Fox asks, and he speaks at exactly the same time as the little Mon Calamari boy in front of his friends.
“Are you Marshall Commander Fox?”
Fox stiffens beneath his armor, and the kids gasp at his voice.
He wonders if kids now are being taught about them in school, taught to find the nearest trooper in an emergency. He’s the face of the guard; perhaps he’s a local celebrity. They don’t look panicked like something’s wrong, but he worries still, nodding beneath his bucket.
“Yeah, that’s me. Do you need help?”
They stammer and stutter amongst themselves, like none of them were quite sure why they’d come over in the first place. Fox takes this to mean there’s not a building on fire nearby, or a dead body in one of the alleyways. The only one that addresses Fox is another Mon Calamari, this time a girl, and probably the little boy’s sister, if his exasperated call of her name when he realizes she’s standing at Fox’s feet is any evidence.
“We brought you hot chocolate.” She announces, her little hands holding a paper caf cup. She raises it towards Fox’s hands, and he has to physically bend down to take it. In the time it takes for Fox to crouch and grab it, his heart grows three sizes.
He’s taken it on instinct, but now that her large, round eyes are blinking up at him, and the rest of her little crew of kiddos are staring at him just as intently, he’s frozen. He’d never usually take something from a civilian, much less out of the hands of a child. He’s not exactly eager to be accused of theft, especially if the ‘victim’ comes up to only his knees. But she leans against his armor, her hand braced on his kama, and waits anxiously for him to take a sip.
He thinks briefly of poison, but she’s very small, and he doesn’t think she’d be able to engineer a dastardly scheme like that. The Mon Calamari boy- her brother, Fox presumes, reaches out to tug his sister off of Fox’s legs, and she huffs angrily as she’s wrenched backwards a few steps.
“Sorry, Commander.” One of the other little kids pipes up, a human with big dark eyes that remind Fox of his vode, “She’s-” He has a slight lisp “-just a baby. She doesn’t know she’s not s’posed ta’ get in your way.”
“She’s okay.” Fox speaks, completely out of his element and soft in the voice where he’s usually grating and rough, “Um- how’d you know my name?”
His name, he marvels, not his number or just clone. They’d known he was Marshall Commander Fox, and that’s peculiar.
Their eyes widen collectively, like they’ve been caught red-handed- perhaps there is poison in the drink.
“Um, we met- um, Mr.- Commander Thorn.” Another kid asks, one of the only two that’s remained silent before now. He’s a little Nautolan boy, a blue tint to his skin that bleeds purple towards the ends of his tendrils. He fiddles with his fingers like he’s scared, and perhaps its because both of Fox’s blasters are in view in his holsters.
“And Mr. Hound.” The little girl pipes up again, still scruffed by her brother, “And they told us stories about how you and them get all the bad guys on Coruscant. And they bought us some candy, and- and they walked us home from the park and they said you’re really cool.”
Fox watches the rest of the kids nod vigorously, though the one little girl that hasn’t been brave enough to speak yet has her thumb firmly lodged in her mouth for comfort. She shies away from him, but if her enthusiastic nods are to be believed, Hound and Thorn have turned Fox into their new idol.
“And they said that you like caf like my mommy,” The Nautolan boy speaks again, “But- but they wouldn’t let us buy caf ‘cause we’re too little so we got you a hot chocolate instead.”
“Ah,” Fox muses, staring hard at the white lid of the drink as snow falls around them, “I see. It’s- hot chocolate?”
The kids blink like he should know what this is. He thinks he recalls the name, probably something he’s read off of a sign while standing listlessly on patrol somewhere.
Apparently, the experimental tone he’d used is setting off some alarm bells, because the human boy’s nose scrunches before he answers, “Yeah. You don’t even know what hot chocolate is?”
“Bita,” The Togrutan child elbows his friend, voice strained and exasperated, “That’s Commander Fox!”
Bita seems to remember that he’s speaking to the trooper that Hound and Thorn had apparently told them was some sort of god amongst men, because his little cheeks flush, eyes avoiding Fox’s bucket like he’ll turn him to stone at a glance.
“Hot chocolate’s yummy,” The Mon Calamari girl steps forwards again, on the loose the second her brother drops the collar of her overalls, “Mika’s mom makes it for us after school.”
Mika nods around the thumb in her mouth, still strictly silent.
“Right.” Fox nods, awkwardly realizing that he’s going to have to remove his helmet to drink the delicacy. Troopers removing their helmets in public is not strictly forbidden, but if it’s reported as a complaint, the trooper in question is often given a very harsh suggestion to leave it on next time.
Well, kark it. He’s the Marshall Commander. He can do what he wants. He can delete the messages before they get to the Chancellor, or any of his slimy red guards.
There’s a hiss as the seals on his helmet give, and he meets eyes unobscured for the first time with the gaggle of kids at his feet. There’s a round of gasps, and one even enthuses, ‘wow!’, and Fox isn’t sure whether that’s a negative or a positive.
The nautolan boy’s tendrils flush a vibrant purple as he stares up awestruck at Fox, and one of his little fingers raises conspicuously towards Fox’s face.
“How’d you get that scar on your eyeball?”
Fox is glad that he hasn’t taken a sip of this hot chocolate yet, or he’d have choked on it. Instead he muscles down a cough, clearing his throat, “I got struck by lightning.”
“From the sky?!” Bita marvels, his thick curls trying to obscure his face as he tilts his head forwards. The little Mon Calamari girl has stumbled back towards her brother in shock, and she’s gripping the edge of his jacket like perhaps the lightning is coming for her next.
It’s not- it’s firmly contained within the Chancellor’s fingers, doled out only for Fox.
Lucky him.
“Wow!” The Nautolan boy gushes again, hopping slightly on his feet that are stuffed into fur-lined winter boots. Fox is briefly worried that he’ll slip on any snow frozen over the concrete, but he stays steady as he bounces.
“Wow, wow, that’s-! That’s so cool!” He’s migrated closer to Fox now, jumping over the distance between him until he’s nearly knocking into Fox’s legs, “Did you get any other scars from fighting bad guys?”
Mika looks very much like she’s going to cry if Fox starts going in-depth about the Coruscant underworld, so he staves off the urgency of answering with a sip of his drink. He raises the cup to his lips and barely has to tip it back at all before a gush of both hot and cold is flooding his mouth, and his tongue burns only slightly as he swallows it. It’s- it’s fantastic.
The cold must be cream, because it blends with the hot drink to flow down his throat like ambrosia. It’s one of the best tastes he’s ever encountered, far outmatching the sloppy grey ‘desserts’ served in their dining halls. There had been one time on Kamino when Fox’s batchmate Cody had performed spectacularly well, and he’d been rewarded with a sweet. He was given strict orders not to share, but Wolffe always got what he wanted, and once Cody had split apart the cake for one vod, he passed out an even helping to each cadet. Fox remembers there being a tangy taste to it, but the cream on top of this is the same that he’d tasted all those years ago on Kamino. He’s had chocolate before, only once, as a personal gift sent to him from Senator Organa after he’d busted an assassination attempt on the senator’s life. The bits and pieces of kindness that the galaxy has shown Fox are all coming together now, contained in a warm cup passed to him by a little girl with pink gloves on her hands.
“That’s-” He rasps, throat slightly sore from misuse and from the bite of the hot drink, “That’s really good.”
The Mon Calamari girl grins, “It’s my favorite.” She joins the Nautolan boy at Fox’s feet, and this time her brother joins her. Soon Fox has five kids all standing eagerly within his personal bubble, hands itching to touch his armor.
In the end, it’s Mika who moves first, the fingers that aren’t in her mouth latching onto the edge of Fox’s kama, the way that Fox’s littlest admirer had clutched her brother’s jacket. For stability, for safety, for trust.
Mika leans her miniscule weight against Fox’s leg, and he takes another sip to ward off a suspiciously forming lump in his throat.
“Why does your hair look different than Mr. Hound’s and Mr. Thorn’s?” The Nautolan boy asks again, finger still outstretched towards Fox’s face.
“Why do your tendrils look different from Bita’s hair?” Fox asks back, and while the Nautolan boy looks like he understands, Bita’s face flushes again at being addressed by name. Fox knows he’d blushed with pride whenever one of their trainers had called him Fox instead of Ten-Ten- perhaps he’s got something in common with the boy.
“Commander Fox?” The little Mon Calamari boy pipes up, “Do you shoot people with your blasters?”
Perhaps it’s typical six-year-old boy speak, but Fox is startled by the question regardless. Because when Fox shoots, he kills. These kids may scrimmage with dart guns or slingshots, but Fox’s blasters are real, as real as the bloodshed they cause.
“Only if I have to.” He admits awkwardly, dancing around the subject as the boys grin at each other, “But- but, uh, it’s not fun. It’s to keep Coruscant safe.”
“It’s fun when I shoot my blasters.” Bita gushes, “There’s-! We have blasters just like yours, Commander Fox!”
“Yeah,” The Nautolan boy nods, “And, and when we play outside we shoot ‘em at each other and we play Corrie Guard!”
“They’re not real.” The Mon Calamari girl scoffs, further proving her relation to the boy by the way she continuously yearns to knock him down a peg, “They’re fake, Commander Fox, they only shoot darts.”
Before Fox can step in to placate the children her brother rounds on her, “You’re just mad ‘cause we shoot ‘em at you!”
“Nuh-uh!” She insists, but she turns to Fox with wide, shining eyes, “They- they do shoot them at me, Commander Fox, and it hurts. It’s no fair.”
“It doesn’t hurt!” Her brother gripes, but Fox is already cutting in with a click of his tongue, and the kids fall silent.
“Ah- don’t ever shoot them at your sister.” Fox warns, his stern gaze steady as he stares down at the boys, “That’s not how you should treat your family. I’d never-” He falters, tamping down another, thicker lump in his throat, this time without the aid of his drink, “I’d never shoot my brothers. And you shouldn’t shoot your sister, either. Even if it doesn’t hurt, or even if it’s just foam-” or even if it’s set to stun, “-you shouldn’t shoot someone you don’t want to hurt.”
All three boys are nodding vigorously now, and the Mon Calamari stammers out, “Yes Mr. Fox. Um- Commander Fox.”
“Good.” Fox nods once, practically jamming the rim of the cup into his mouth so that he can occupy it with something other than a sob.
“Thanks,” The Mon Calamari girl shifts gratefully closer to Fox, now leaning on his kama much like little Mika, “I’ll tell you if he does it again.”
“Prinnie!” Her brother groans, clearly embarrassed, “You’re such a snitch.”
“Mommy says snitching is okay when someone’s hurt, Bowen!” Prinnie replies, sticking by her newly-appointed guardian’s side, “‘Cause she has to help us feel better when we’re hurt.”
Before Bowen can fire back and initiate an all-out sibling war, Mika parts her lips to let her thumb escape, and points with her now-free hand at Fox’s head. She speaks once, only a single word, “Hair.”
The group blinks, clearly startled that she’s spoken at all. But Bita steps in, “Oh. She wants to touch your hair, Commander Fox.”
“Mika.” The Nautolan boy grabs for her arm to haul her away from Fox, but she holds tight to his kama, and makes a sound in her throat like she’s going to cry. Fox doesn’t want that, and on instinct, he lowers into a crouch.
His knees crack threateningly, and Mika’s as disturbed by the sound as she is by her friend trying to drag her away. But now Fox’s head and hers are level, and the hand she’d beckoned him closer with inches carefully towards his hair, like he might bite her.
Fox has been a little behind on the upkeep of his appearance, and his hair has grown to resemble Thorn’s respectable length. That is to say, well outside of regulation, but he can’t pull it into a topknot like Thorn can. Fox feels tiny fingers grasp at one of the strands of his hair- probably graying, and Mika’s little face turns up in a smile.
“Soft.” She says, and Fox is fairly certain that’s not true, because he hasn’t washed it in days, but he’ll take her word for it.
Her fingers abandon his hair to trace over his scar, and Fox’s breath stutters in his throat as his eyes flutter shut to let her finger trail over the split of his skin.
When Fox is able to open his eyes again, Mika stares at him for a moment, eyes boring into his own, and then tucks her thumb back into her mouth. Fox could stand, now that she’s satisfied, but he realizes that all of the other littles have come to get their own fill of Commander Fox, up close and personal.
“I like your armor.” The Nautolan boy passes a gentle hand over Fox’s shoulder plate, “I’m gonna ask my daddy to help me paint my shoulder pads like that.”
“That’s no fair, Nik!” Bita groans, “Why do you get to be Commander Fox?”
“Cause I called him first.” Nik’s hand braces against Fox’s shoulder plate, protectively now, “You can be Commander Thorn!”
Bita seems mollified at that, but begrudgingly so.
Fox laughs- it’s a bizarre sound from him, born from the absurdity of being wholesomely admired for the terrible fate lying on his shoulders. These children shouldn’t idolize him- he’s a glorified secretary for the Chancellor, but they’re fighting over who gets to wear his armor, and it tickles him.
“You’re Sergeant Hound, then.” Fox nods at Bowen, “Do you have a massiff? Because Hound does, and he loves her very much. They help track down bad guys together.”
“Um,” Bowen flounders, “I have a sister?”
“I’m not playing your pet again!” Prinnie insists, and Fox urgently wants to know what had happened the first time she’d done so, “Use one of your stuffed animals.”
Mika removes her thumb one more time, little brows furrowing as she speaks, “Fox.”
His attention trained on her doesn’t prompt a response- she begins to suck her thumb again, but she pushes at his drink where it rests in his hand.
“Have more.” Prinnie encourages, a sweet grin on her face, “Can we stay with you until it gets dark?”
The kids clearly agree with her, nodding and shuffling closer to Fox until he’s so crowded that he loses his balance, no longer crouching but sitting firmly on his butt on the pavement. His guard posting today was a phony one, meant for looks and not for function, but he’s still technically on-duty.
When Mika and Nik both crawl into Fox’s lap, sitting contently on his legs despite Fox’s hard armor surely being uncomfortable, he decides he can tell them one very short, very polished story about a jewel thief he’d stopped last week.
When Mika’s head comes to rest against his chestplate, and Prinnie squirms into the gap between his legs, desperate to be closer, he decides a second story won’t take up too much time, so long as it’s just as clean as the first.
When Bowen and Bita take a spot on either side of him, and use his arms as pillows as they listen eagerly for more, Fox launches into a third story about one of his particularly grueling training memories.
When Mika falls asleep against Fox’s chest, he lowers his voice.
When Prinnie starts drumming a beat against his boots, identical ones round the corner, nearly tripping over at least three of the children Fox has kept company with for what has to be an hour by now.
“Excuse me- woah! Fox,” It’s Thorn, the smug bastard, and he holds open his arms when Bowen and Prinnie leap to their feet. He catches Prinnie with ease where she leaps at him, and Bowen hugs Thorn’s left leg tightly in lieu of being carried.
“I see you’ve met my friends.” Thorn grins down at them, eyeing little Mika who wasn’t woken in the scuffle, “Did you hear some stories from Commander Fox?”
“Yeah! Yeah,” Bita and Nik scramble to their feet as well, leaving Fox with Mika’s snoozing form still tucked into his chest as he sits against the wall of a storefront, “And he told us about fighting bad guys and we brought him a hot chocolate so he wouldn’t get cold.”
“Really?” Thorn jostles Prinnie in his arms, and she nods eagerly up at him, her little arms failing to curl all the way around Thorn’s neck.
“Well I bet he’s told you great stories.” Thorn kneels, setting Prinnie back on the ground and letting the boys rush him in a hug, “But it’s getting dark out. Hey,” He grins wolfishly at Fox, “Commander Fox’s shift just ended, and I was coming to replace him. Why don’t I have him walk you guys home?”
The boys look like being walked home by Fox would be the biggest honor of their lives. Prinnie seems reluctant to part from Thorn, but she nods regardless and Fox scrambles to get a tight hold on Mika so that he can stand without dropping her.
“Come on, old man.” Thorn switches to his internal comm system, silent to anyone without a bucket, “Get off the floor, they live two blocks down in the apartment complex that got robbed last month. They’re all neighbors, just knock on one door and they’ll help you find the rest.”
Fox is thankful that his internal comms are hidden from the children, because he responds to Thorn’s disrespect with a string of swear words that would make Mika cry.
“Okay, kids.” Thorn switches comms again, speaking aloud now, “Fox is going to walk you home now. Do you have all of your things?” Each child scrambles to check for rocks that they’d stuffed in their pockets, as well as Prinnie who has a child’s purse hung around her shoulder. It’s not much bigger than her hand, and Fox wonders what she’s able to fit in it.
Mika doesn’t stir against Fox’s shoulder, but she does drool slightly where her lips are still stretched around her thumb. He makes a mental note to sanitize his chest plate later, but makes no move to wake her.
Fox counts each child as they huddle around him once more, and Bita grabs hold of Fox’s belt as they begin walking through the streets of Coruscant. They’re on a fairly respectable level, one where the children could walk home if they wanted to, but Fox is secretly glad that he’s gotten the opportunity to do it. His hot chocolate has surely cooled, one last sip left in the cup he’s holding with the hand he’s not carrying Mika with. He won’t mind it, though, the lukewarm temperature of the drink on his way back to headquarters, because its warmth now permanently resides in him. There’s warmth stamped onto his shoulder plate by Nik’s little hand, there’s warmth in the fingerprints dotted over his kama, and there’s warmth in his heart now, a hot drink on a cold day delivered with love.