for @calltomuster, because I don’t have the next chapter of How Qui-Gon Accidentally Adopted a Baby ready yet, but I thought you might enjoy this <3
“No,” said Qui-Gon flatly. “I don’t do babies.”
“Qui-Gon, be reasonable. The crèche needs extra hands,” said Tahl. “It’s just for a few days.”
“No,” he said again. “I don’t do babies.”
Tahl sighed at him and narrowed those green-gold eyes. “You’re extremely unhelpful.”
“When I want to be?” he teased.
“Don’t even start with me, Mace,” Qui-Gon said, not so much as glancing up from his food. Windu paused a few feet away from the table, his own plate in his hand.
“What?” he asked innocently. “I was just coming to break bread with you. That’s what the commissary is for, you know, food and fellowship.”
“And nagging me to help out in the crèche?” Qui-Gon guessed. He stabbed at a veg with unnecessary force. “There are other Masters that are on mission-leave that don’t have Padawans, you know!”
“Yes. There are forty-two of them. Of that number, sixteen are on teaching rotations, thirteen have already volunteered time to assist the crèche, nine are injured to the point of being unable to help for the time being, two announced their intentions to take a Padawan this week, one is leaving for meditative retreat leading up to retirement, and the other is Pong Krell.”
Qui-Gon could not contain a slight grimace. “Ah.”
“Yes,” Mace rolled his eyes. “‘Ah.’”
“Still,” said Qui-Gon. “Surely—”
“Expect your duties to begin tomorrow morning,” said Mace loudly, and despite his previous claim, he did not sit beside Qui-Gon but stalked off with his food.
Qui-Gon lasted an hour after leaving his rooms that morning. Just as he started to relax, someone brushed against his shoulder, and he turned.
“Here, hold this,” said Mace, and then dumped something in Qui-Gon’s arms and speed walked out of the room.
Leaving Qui-Gon holding a baby.
“Windu!” Qui-Gon shouted, knowing full well it was too late for protests. He bit back a curse on instinct. Babies couldn’t understand curse words, right? But it was still bad etiquette to use them in a baby’s presence. That didn’t make much sense.
Then again, as he paused to study the chubby cheeks, the fluffy golden-red hair, and the enormous blue eyes, he reconsidered. It was probably criminal to swear in front of this particular baby.
“Hello,” he said cautiously, holding the child out in midair at eye level and trying not to freak out.
The baby said something like “Bahbuhlabuhbleeeebohbaaagabuh” and wiggled its feet happily in the air, seeming unbothered.
“Oh, this is not good,” said Qui-Gon.
“I don’t do babies!” Qui-Gon yelled. Well, whispered very loudly. It was terribly rude to yell when there was a baby sleeping in the next room. “Why did he just hand me a baby? I thought he wanted me to help out in the crèche!”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi has unstable Force visions,” Tahl said calmly. “He’s unhappy and poorly rested unless he’s got a Master bonded to him. You’re strong in the Living Force. It will help balance him out.”
“You gave me a whole baby with no warning based on a guess?!”
“Yoda’s guess,” she shrugged. “And he was right. Obi-Wan’s sleeping.”
“I don’t do babies,” Qui-Gon mumbled under his breath, and turned to find the warmer for the baby’s next bottle.
“Has anyone seen Jinn?” one of the Councilors fretted. “We left a child in his care and nobody seems to have seen him in the last four days!”
“He’ll be here,” said another. “He can’t wait for his next mission. He’s probably dropping the child off in the crèche as fast as he possibly can.”
Yoda said nothing, but he leaned on his stick and smiled, his ears rising curiously.
The doors to the chamber opened, and in walked a tall Jedi Master, his robes as untidy as ever, with the addition of a fruity blended drink in one hand, a baby bottle in the other, and soft blue blanket over one shoulder with a small child curled fast asleep against it, his small face buried in the Jedi’s neck.
“Umm... what’s that you’ve got there, Qui-Gon?” Mace asked into the stunned silence.
Qui-Gon looked confused. “A smoothie,” he said, holding up his drink.
The doors closed behind Jinn, who had his attention occupied by the child whimpering in his arms, haven just woken up from his nap.
“...is he allowed to do that?” someone asked. “Just... drop off the mission roster and raise a child?”
“Does it matter?” Mace had his head in his hands, looking like he was fighting off a migraine. “It’s Qui-Gon Jinn. He does what he wants.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“What a liar,” he added under his breath. “‘I don’t do babies,’ my ass.”
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