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“Hand over the child, Master Kenobi.” Master Windu was stern, as he seldom was during closed council sessions. His brow pinched as he leaned forward intently.
“No.”
“Master Kenobi—”
“It’s not my fault you forgot to sign up for the crèche rotation, my friend,” Obi-Wan cut him off smugly. In his opinion, his smugness was well earned because he had a tiny golden-furred wookie cub cuddled against his chest in a soft-woven wrap, and the other master did not.
“There’s a war going on and it slipped my mind,” Mace protested. He looked longingly at the youngling. “Surely you could spare me a few minutes.”
Obi-Wan smiled serenely, carding his fingers through soft, downy fur. He leant back more comfortably into his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I’m a High General of a Sector Army. If I can remember, I’m sure an esteemed master such as yourself could have made the time to do so.” He paused, settling one arm more comfortably under the little one’s rump to support them. “Unless you’re getting forgetful in your old age?”
“Bah,” Yoda cackled, interrupting them, and he whacked his cane against his chair. “Old age, an excuse it is not.” And indeed, a second youngling, this one a human infant, was being rocked back and forth in a little bassinet by one gnarled claw.
Obi-Wan knew he’d regret the remark later, but honestly if his esteemed colleagues were going to call him the council baby, then they should have expected nothing less than to be called old for their efforts. But for now it was worth it, as Mace seethed and turned his attention to Shaak and Saesee, in another attempt to score a cuddle from one of the younglings cradled in their arms. Adi, who had already fended off Mace with a single raised eyebrow, just shook her head in amusement as she bounced a zabrak toddler on her knee.
Not that Mace would be successful - the crèche rotation only came about once every six months, and it was rare now to be on Coruscant for the occasion, let alone for the full council to be physically present as well. It was a sorely needed lull in the never-ending sieges, both sides gathering to regroup, and Obi-Wan knew his men were making the most of it at the lower-level bar they thought he didn’t know about.
But the 212th’s antics couldn’t be further from Obi-Wan’s mind right now, because there was no way in the stars would he be giving up little Chomdekka for anyone short of his crechemaster at the end of the day. He tucked his cheek against the little one’s velvety head, and savoured the quiet purrs rumbling through the youngling’s little body, and the lightness in the Force that the presence of the younglings brought forth.
His colleagues were safe and laughing, the younglings sleepy and content after a big meal, and even Mace was amused by his own theatrics. The older crèchlings perched on Agen, Plo and Depa’s laps were giggling as the Master of the Order put his dramatic skills to good use.
Kit, meanwhile, was no help to Mace, urging his own crechling for the day to clumsily float a beebleberry cracker onto the top of Ki-Adi’s head, while the Cerean master’s young rodian companion for the day hid their laughs behind tiny palms and made a valiant attempt to ‘distract’ Ki-Adi from noticing, despite having to pause to giggle every few seconds. Ki-Adi certainly didn’t have Mace’s acting chops, but he made a good enough show of it to entertain the crèchlings.
A smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips as he closed his eyes and basked in the pure joy suffusing the council chambers.
For just this moment, all was well.