Summary: The Child keeps tugging on Mando's cape and you figure out that it's because he wants to wear a cape like his dad.
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You watched as the Child toddled over to the Mandalorian for the sixth time today. The green bean's feet padded against the metal floors of the Razor Crest with an adorable pitter, patter.
Well, it was only cute for a while. The Child's constant movements got old real quick—especially if it was during the times that you were trying to sleep—and the number of times that he'd done this today was enough to make you go insane. The thumping never stopped, as if the Child thought that it was his life's goal to walk over every single square foot of the ship a hundred times, tracing every line, crack, and crevice in the walls as he did so. But today, he seemed focused on something other than the interior of the Razor Crest.
Instead of the walls or the floors, he kept waddling over to the Mandalorian. It wasn't that odd, as the Mandalorian was the Child's adopted father, but it was weird because the Child was going after his cape rather than his attention.
Now, the Child had finished its journey from your lap to the cockpit where the Mandalorian was rerouting the Razor Crest's destination to the bounty's last-known whereabouts. The foundling tugged on the Mandalorian's cape with his right hand's three tiny fingers. Annoyed, the Mandalorian brushed the Child's hands off of his cape after a couple of the foundling's tugs, but the fingers always made their way back to the cape.
You stifled a laugh as you rose from your place near the Child's play station and walked toward the cockpit. Imagining the Mandalorian's pissed off expressions behind his helmet was a particularly funny hobby of yours. You stopped walking when you got to the back of the pilot's chair and bent down to tap the Child's shoulders. The little monster turned around with a start but kept the fabric of the Mandalorian's cape wrapped around his chubby arms.
Scooping the Child up in your arms, you said, "Time to go, baby. You can't keep bothering your dad like this."
The Child gave a sad whimper and tugged on the Mandalorian's cape one more time before letting go. You felt bad for the foundling so you said, "If you want to play with Mando's cape, why don't we make you a cape of your own? We can cut up one of my shirts and you can wear a cape just like him."
The Child finally raised his head to look up at you and nearly poked you in the eye with one of his long ears. You didn't know if it was an accident. Perhaps it was done on purpose. You wouldn't put it past him, considering the number of tantrums that he had thrown.
Tantrums were bad on their own, but a tantrum thrown by a Force-sensitive kid? Not fun.
You hoisted the green monster into a more comfortable position between your arms and then used your side to push open the door to your room. It was more like a large closet, but the Razor Crest was small and you wouldn't complain about it.
You set the Child down on the floor and held out your hand. The mini, three-fingered green hand that wrapped itself around yours was another cute sight that you wished to fawn over, but you didn't waste any time leading the Child to your makeshift closet.
Who knew when he would throw his tantrum over getting separated from Mando's cape? The quicker you moved, the less time there would be for the Child to erupt in tears.
"Alright," you said, turning towards the Child as you helped him walk over to the closet. Since the Child was too short to see the articles of clothing on the racks, you kneeled on the floor and said, "Up?" You held your hands out to the green bean, who took them a bit snootily, but you disregarded that snark.
You placed your right hand behind the Child's back and your left one under his swaddled butt and got up with relative ease. The Child was light but by the rate that the Mandalorian was spoiling him, he would definitely gain a couple of pounds. Now that he could see his options, the green monster's hands reached out for one of your black jeans.
"No, don't take that," you said. "Take a shirt. The jeans aren't wide enough to make a cape." The Child made a squeak of protest, which you ignored, and followed your right hand as it moved to the rack with your shirts.
"What about this one?"
The Child ignored the shirt that you had pointed to. It was a navy, close to black color, so maybe the Child didn't like the color of dark blue. But every time that you offered to cut up one of your shirts (which most of them you had an attachment to) the Child looked the other way.
"If you don't pick out a shirt, I'll do it for you," you grumbled. "Stop being so picky."
Suddenly, a voice several feet away from you said, "What about my shirts?"
You would have recognized the sound of that distorted voice anywhere. "Mando?" You turned to meet the beskar-clad man and questioned, "You're willing to let this little monster cut up one of your shirts?"
The Mandalorian moved his shoulders slightly. You guessed that it was a shrug, though it was hard to tell from the restrictive, stiff beskar that was covering that area. "He wants to be like me."
Not even the modulator could hide the sense of pride that seeped in through that comment.
You smiled and said, "Yes, he does. The Child wants to be like his dad." Your eyes traveled down to face the Child, who was still supported by your arms. The green bean was looking straight at the Mandalorian.
It was as if he was analyzing the structure of his cape. You shook the foundling in your arms gently with a light bounce. "So, you want to be like Mando, huh?"
The Child's ears pricked up and you laughed at the idea that your mind produced.
