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“Numa?” Boil asks softly.
She doesn’t open her eyes and barely stirs from where she’s leaning against Boil’s side. “Hmmmph?” she mumbles.
Boil looks at Waxer, who’s on the opposite side of Numa and making an adorably smitten face at her.
“Bed time,” Waxer mouths to him, and he stands up carefully so as not to jostle Numa’s sleepy form.
Numa’s been insistent lately that she should be able to stay up later now that she’s older. They’ve stayed pretty firm about her bedtime, but tonight it was such a beautiful, clear night that they let her stay up a little, and they went out into their garden to stargaze. But, at only twenty minutes past her normal bedtime, Numa is all but passed out.
Rather than wake Numa up to make the short trek back to their house, Boil shifts to get his feet under him and then rearranges Numa’s sleep-heavy form against his chest. Hefting himself to his feet, he scoops Numa up off the ground. She mumbles something indistinct, but otherwise stays limp with her face squashed against Boil’s chest.
Waxer tilts his head at him, and Boil just nods in return. “I got her,” he whispers. Waxer nods and starts picking up the remains of the drinks they brought before they head down to their house.
Numa isn’t difficult to carry by any stretch, but she is certainly heavier than when he and Waxer first arrived here a few years ago. That makes sense—she’s grown so much and, as she likes reminding them recently, she’ll be ten in just a few months. Boil hasn’t wanted to dampen her excitement about it, but he can’t help but think of his own life when he was about to turn ten. They were in the last stretch of their infantry training, taught to expect that they could be moving out any day and they would need to be prepared to fulfill their purpose.
The milestone of turning ten for a clone feels so incredibly far away from here, from the warm, sleepy weight he’s cradling in his arms.
While Numa is already big enough that she doesn’t often get picked up by Twi’lek adults anymore, Waxer and Boil still carry her sometimes—partly because they simply can without much exertion, and also partly because they don’t want to give it up. There’s something so comforting about holding her, the way she’ll crawl into their laps and wrap her arms around their shoulders, like she feels completely secure there. It makes Boil want to hold her even tighter, to protect her and keep her feeling so safe.
Boil knows he and Waxer would do anything for her, would lay down their lives if they knew that it would protect her. In this peaceful little town, though, that kind of thing isn’t really required on a daily basis—not like it was during the war. It took a while to learn that loving and caring for Numa wasn’t simply giving her everything she wanted, despite their frequent desire to do just that. They learned that lesson slowly—in bedtimes and school lunches, in curious questions and gentle reminders, in making sure that they not only keep Numa safe but teach her to the best of their ability. Boil would still protect her with his life, but… the responsibility of caring for her has been so much more than that. And he wouldn’t change a thing about it.
He gently lays Numa down in her bed, carefully holding her head until it reaches the pillow before removing her lekku wrap and setting it aside. Her lekku and face are slack with sleep as he pulls the covers up to her shoulders.
“Good night, ma sareen,” he says softly.