Work Text:
"Pwastoid again?" Obi-wan asks Cody. "Or durasteel, or beskar!"
Beskar? Wasn't that... Ah. Mace's feral gremlins are Mandalorian then. That... explains a lot.
"What, precisely, are we discussing?" Mace asks.
"Needs awmour!" Obi-wan declares, a hit of defiance in his tone. Cody turns to give Obi-wan a look, which the tiny redhead turns his head to pretend he doesn't see.
"Cod'ika?" Mace asks.
"Armour would be nice." Cody tells him. "Even more nice if we could get Gen'ika in some."
Ah.
"Nu uh." Obi-wan says, shaking his head rapidly. "Have force!"
Cody looks incredibly long suffering. It's an amusing face on such a tiny child.
Mace decides he doesn't need to weigh in on what is clearly a long-running argument, despite the fact that Obi-wan is right, and ignores it entirely.
"Why don't we go down to the Armoury," he suggests, "and discuss with the Master Armourer what is and isn't possible."
The Master Armourer looks intrigued by the challenge of creating a large number of sets of identical armour that can be easily adjusted as the children grow. He's utterly charmed by the pile of colourful wax crayon drawings Wooley hands him, which clumsily depict the armour they used to wear in the future. Apparently. Mace is going to have to work out how to steal one to pin on the conservator. It's going to be tricky, the Master Armourer is clutching them as if they're precious. But Mace will not be defeated in this. Not even by the death glare the Master Armourer sends him over Wooley's head, as he clutches the sheets tighter. They're his children dammit. He will pin up their artwork. And no incredibly strong, incredibly skilled, man who hammers and shapes metal all day is going to stop him.
"Meemore!"
Mace looks around at Obi-wan's shout, curious as to who his next unsuspecting victim is. It's one of the temple guard, fully kitted up, and hovering uncertainly in the armoury doorway.
"Hello?" The guard says, clearly extremely confused. Which is understandable. No one is supposed to be able to recognise the guards through their armour.
"Master Jim is a big bamfa poodoo." Obi-wan informs the guard seriously. "You're my bwover. Always."
Jinn had ... repudiated Knight Stahl? What bantha brained nonsense had the man been on?
"Um... thank you?"
Obi-wan beams at him, then bustles forwards to hug one of his legs.
"Dese my fwends." He says, throwing a hand out to indicate the other children. "You'll like Cowdy. He's very wensible."
Knight Guard Stahl lifts off his helmet, and smiles, a little bemused, at all the children.
"Nice to meet you." He says, dropping his spare hand to apparently unconsciously ruffle Obi-wan's hair. "I'm Feemor Stahl."
"Little Padawan," the Master Armourer asks, "How did you know it was him?"
Obi-wan blinks up at him with a confused frown.
"Moves like Meemore."
The three adults stare down at him.
"Even wivowt da force, know dats Cowd'ika, dats Boil'ika, dats Wax'ika, dats Wool'ika, dats -"
"Oh." Says the Master Armourer, interrupting what seems likely to be a recitation of the names of each and every one of the identical children. He shares a glance with Knight Stahl. "Perhaps we should mention this to Master Drallig."
"Well, Master."
Mace turns to see Depa, holding one of the children on her hip, several more clustered around her legs. Her force presence is bright with amusement.
"You always do give the best gifts. I am absolutely forgiving you your delay in finding me a sibling, now that I have several."
Depa's been badgering him to take a new padwan since the day she was knighted. Mace casts a quick eye over the children clustered around her.
"That's not even half of them." He says, and turns back to his datawork. He's trying to work out which classes he can put his non-force-sensitive children into. Depa's glee radiates into the force, and she steps forwards to peer over his shoulder. So far, he's listed out every arts and crafting and games and sports class there is. His children are going to have fun, force dammit. And he still hadn't managed to pry Wooley's drawings from the Master Armour's relentless thieving grasp. He was just going to have to get his children to make more artwork.
"I'm kidnapping my new brothers after their nap." Depa tells him. "I need their help building an obstacle course for small non-force-sensitives. So you should probably schedule that into your list as well."
The children perk up, except the one on Depa's hip, Boil, who's studying Mace's datapad with a frown. He pats Depa's shoulder with his pudgy little hands.
"Should put Cod'ika an Wax'ika in da fowce classes wiv Gen'ika." He says. "Deys inerwested. Wants to unerstanwing."
Mace hums. That should be possible. Worth trying at least, his children are disconcertingly well behaved when they're not up to mischief. They won't cause issues if they get bored. Probably.
"Thank you, Boil'ika. I'll pass a copy around afterwards, and you can all choose what you'd like from the list."
Boil goes still.
"Gets to choose?" He asks.
"Of course." Mace says. Obviously he's going to allow the children some choice as to what they'd like to study. They're all perfectly capable of making that decision themselves.
"Oh." Boil says, quiet. Then he smiles at Mace, a small, genuine thing. "Tanku Master Wimdu."
He feels Depa pounce on the name like a nexu.
"Don't even think about it." He tells her.
"I would never." She denies, sly and mischievous and so happy in the force, "...Master Wimdu."
The children cackle with glee, and Mace flings a cushion at her with the force.
"Master!" She scolds on a laugh, "what would the council say?"
Padawan Vos, bane of Mace's existence, is staring at Cody with narrowed eyes. Cody tilts his head, assessing, then very deliberately holds out one of his hands.
Obi-wan draws in a sharp breath.
"S like us." He warns quietly. Mace wonders quite what he means by that. That he's seen too much, maybe. Vos doesn't even twitch in his direction, just takes Cody's hand.
He's still for a long moment, but not as long as Mace was expecting. How young were his children when they came back?
"Do you want to help me put a stock cube in Master Jinn's shower head?" Vos asks, not letting go of the hand.
Cody grins, slow, then gives a sharp nod.
"We'll need Crys'ika for the door code."
Vos's grin is bright. He grabs Obi-wan's hand as well, and tugs both younger children after him.
"Come on Obes! That nerf herder has it coming!"
Mace takes a silent step backwards, and decides he has seen and heard nothing. Padawan Vos is one of the few children in the order who is not currently his responsibility.
Mace pauses, looks at the child's drawing pinned to Depa's conservator. He's been betrayed. By his own Padawan. He will get his children's artwork on his walls. Somehow.
"You can has this one." Wooley tells him, clambering into his lap, and waving a sheet of flimsy "If you can tells me what it is."
Mace looks down at the incomprehensible mess of coloured squiggles, and squints to see if that will help bring anything into focus. It's even less intelligible than the other drawings Mace has seen. Wooley is radiating suppressed glee and sly cunning into the force.
"That," Mace tells him, "is a perfect representation of exactly how evil you are."
Their tiny audience howl with laughter, and Wooley pouts up at him. It's utterly adorable. He can't stop himself from dropping a kiss into the top of soft curls. Wooley melts, and curls into him.
"I make you a nice won." He promises.