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Neyo has about ten different things he should be doing right now. All of them involve, in some way, ensuring that the new troops for the 91st are good and effective and fit for it and everything that comes with that. The paperwork, any outliers or just things that he needs to know and need to be addressed before he ships back out.
He is doing none of those things.
He was instead using his time on Kamino to watch cadets, smaller than he has ever had the chance to see them, play.
He isn’t quite sure how to feel yet, that these tiny — so very tiny, oh Force they were small — and fragile little things were stumbling around and playing.
He’s enjoying himself though, far more than he would’ve if he had just been here on Kamino doing what he was supposed to do and only that.
He doesn’t really like Kamino. He does however like the way that these tiny cadets tug on him with their tiny little hands and fall asleep on him as if they have no reason to fear him.
He’s decided to only give Colt shit about his Jedi when he looks that shade of particularly heartsick from now on. Or at least for as long as he keeps feeling generous.
Holding these tiny cadets is making him soft, he makes a face to himself, just a tiny shift of the brows and nose before he gets himself under control.
The little ik’aade looking up at him blinks, reaches a hand up and slaps lightly at Neyo’s face. A little clumsily coordinated but still managing to hit him.
Neyo raises an eyebrow and the little thing babbles at him, blinks up at him again. Neyo snorts, gives the ik’aad a smile and presses a kiss to his head, ducks to blow a raspberry into his belly and gets a peal of delighted laughter in response.
The ik’aad are all playing around him, some of them resting on his side of the mat, and a few of them curled up and half-asleep on his legs.
It is suddenly very plain to him, as he watches them and their tiny hands and little, fragile, bodies, that he is a weapon trained. He realizes just how big he is compared to them, how easy it would be for tiny little bones to break and has to breathe through the knot in his throat.
He feels a little as if one wrong move will crush them, hurt them.
He breathes through the feeling again as one of them reaches for his hand with clumsy fists, Neyo readjusts the little one on his lap so he doesn’t fall, lets the other grip at his finger and shake it.
The ik’aad on his lap babbles quietly, leans his weight forward and hits his head gently on Neyo’s chest. Neyo laughs and gently, carefully, nudges him until he’s sitting the other way.
There’s a shifting sound, and when Neyo looks up he snorts, “Escapee.” He calls out and hears the muffled self-censored not-curses as one of Colt’s Rancors abandons his attempts to convince one of the ik’aad that sleep will be good for them and chases after the little escape artist’s determined attempts to reach the door.
Neyo looks down to the ik’aad in his lap and taps his nose with his free hand, the other still busy having the fingers chewed by a gummy mouth, “Let’s leave all the mischief making for when I’m not the responsible one. What do you say ik’aad? I think it’s working quite well for us, yeah?”
The ik’aad just blinks at his finger and reaches up to grab it.
Neyo huffs, hands him one of the rag tookas instead and carefully extracts his other hand from the other cadet after thorough negotiations that involve another one of the rag tookas and much gentle prodding.
He wipes his hand off on his blacks, reaches over and quickly steadies a wobbling ik’aad from falling onto another.
His cheeks ache a little, barely there, and he realizes he’s been smiling for a while now.
He reaches out, helps gently untangle one of the Littles from the blanket he’s somehow wrapped himself up in just before the frustrated cries can start.
He’s supposed to be doing any other number of things, the things that are the only reason he is even on Kamino.
And he did, technically, do the majority of it. It’s just the last checks, the final Okay’s and paperwork that he’s avoiding.
There’s more quiet babbling and Neyo watches as a Little moves his clasped together hands over his head, stares in bewilderment as pudgy little arms too short to clear his head instead bonk him on the forehead. He repeats the move, blinks when it happens again and Neyo feels something so very fond well up in his chest.
He huffs, turns to look at the one in his lap again and picks him up, “You lot are making me all soft and mushy, I hope you’re all proud of yourselves.”
The little Cadet just looks up at him and babbles, Neyo snorts, brings him up to his chest and blows raspberries into his cheek. The delighted full-belly laughter makes him melt a little and when he pulls away the little one leans forward expectantly. Neyo laughs, leans in and keeps doing the raspberries until the little one leans back satisfied.
It makes that warm feeling well up in his chest again at the adorable face the ik’aad makes.
None of the ik’aad are scared of him, and it is a novel feeling that Neyo is surprised to find he relishes in. None of the little ones in here know that he knows of far too many ways to break their precious fragile bodies, too many ways to hurt them and others.
All they know is that he is holding them gently and carefully and pressing kisses and raspberries to their skin. It tears at something long ago scabbed over and patched up and he ignores it, sets it away. And holds the ik’aad in his arms, presses a kiss onto the top of his head.
He regrets that he will have to leave soon. Wants to stay with these tiny little Cadets who have him wrapped around their pudgy little fingers. See them grow and play with them and hold them for longer.
He needs to go back to the rest of his men though, needs to see the war through until either he is unable to or it ends.
And he will, he’ll finish up those last few tasks sometime tonight or tomorrow and be prepared to ship back out but—
There's a quiet yawn, followed by the shaking head of a tired ik’aad who is not yet ready to close their eyes and give in to sleep.
Neyo smiles, slowly rearranges the blankets to cover the tiny little bodies trying to fight off sleep and failing.
He will prepare to ship back out, but for now he looks around the room and tucks these memories away in his heart with care.
He relaxes and, as he’s been doing every day since he got to Kamino and was shown the little cadets, drifts to sleep surrounded by the little ones.