Luke, Vader privately thought, was the cutest toddler in the entire galaxy. With his light blue shirt, dark brown vest, tan pants, and tiny boots, together with his blond hair and earnest blue eyes and adorable smile, he was enough to melt the heart of the sternest Sith. And Vader was far from the sternest Sith.
Vader smiled underneath his mask, despite the pain it brought to his scars. Luke smiled back and knelt at Vader's feet, dipping one finger into his open jar of blue paint. "Da-ee want paint?" He held up his finger to Vader.
"No, not right now." Vader had enjoyed playing with him, but he needed to get down to business that was not appropriate for a toddler. "I have to go to work now. And you need a nap."
Luke dipped his finger in a dark green jar of paint. "Da-ee want paint?"
Vader sighed. Of course just one no meant nothing to Luke. While he would love to indulge his son, Vader's reputation as a fearsome Sith had already been mostly ruined by Luke's presence in all kid-friendly activities—namely, everything except for battles and interrogations—and Luke painting Vader's armor would ruin what little dignity he had left. "Daddy wants Luke to take a nap."
Luke pouted and dug his fist into the green paint, then splayed his fist at Vader, dripping green paint on the grey floor of Vader and Luke's quarters on the Unwavering. "Paint!"
"No." Vader knelt on the floor and began screwing the jars closed.
"No!" Luke shrieked. He dove for the jar Vader had his hands on and grabbed it. "No! I paint!"
Vader pried his hands off his gloves. "You nap. Or you sit on the no-no chair."
Luke pouted more and crossed his arms. "No no-no chair."
Vader screwed the rest of the jars shut. He held out his hands to Luke. "Come on, let's go to bed."
Luke leaned forward and let Vader pick him up. He stuck his thumb in his mouth. His paint-covered thumb.
"Come on, let's go wash." Vader carried him into the refresher. Hopefully Nanny Droid would be able to last through his nap without as much power as she usually got. Luke had sent her around and around the ship in the hopes of not going to bed last night.
Nanny did not last through Luke's nap.
That may have been helped by Luke sending her to retrieve his paints, a drink of water, and food from the galley. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be able to order her around, superseding Vader's orders, but Luke found a way to convince her.
Once her power died, he pulled his boots off, chucked them at her face, pulled his socks off, stuffed them in between the mattress and the rails of his crib, then climbed out of the crib. He grabbed his jars of paint in a pile in his arms, the paint brush, then set off to explore their quarters. "Da-ee?"
He first encountered Vader's meditation chamber. "Da-ee?" But the chamber was open and clearly empty. He pattered on, soon finding Vader's medical bed, the only place he could get proper sleep. "Da-ee?"
He explored the 'fresher, activating the door controls with the cool new power Daddy had started teaching him, then the sitting room, with the fun chairs Luke liked to drag around and climb on. Then he found a new door he hadn't noticed before. It took a few tries, but he got the door open. He squealed with delight and ran forward. "Da-ee!"
Vader stood in a small closet, propped up by a clothing stand, but there nonetheless. Luke squealed again, dancing in delight at Vader's black boots. "Da-ee!" He sat down and painstakingly laid out all his paint jars in a line, then embraced the boots. He unscrewed the jars and brandished his paint brush. "Da-ee want paint?"
Vader didn't say no, so Luke dipped his paint brush in the nearest jar and got to work.
It took a while for Luke to cover all the space he could reach, but when he was done, he wasn't satisfied. He studied the flowers, stars, spaceships, lightsabers, and soldiers and tilted his head. He bolted into the sitting room and soon returned pushing a chair. He climbed up and got to work again.
He almost fell several times, but managed to work his way around the strangely motionless Vader without disaster until he climbed up to Vader's shoulders and sat on them, one leg on either side of the helmet, his heels drumming against his chest. He held a jar of pink paint in one hand and the paintbrush in the other. He grinned, dipped the paintbrush in the jar, and swirled pink paint on the helmet. He covered every inch until the helmet was completely pink, except for the eyes. He couldn't block the eyepieces. He balanced the jar on top of the helmet, dropped the brush on the floor, and covered the eyepieces with his hands. He popped his head out and removed his hands.
"Boo!" He giggled and covered the eyes again, hiding behind the helmet. He pulled his hands off and popped around the helmet again, giggling. "Boo!" He frowned and poked the helmet. "Da-ee?" He covered the eyes and ripped his hands off. "Boo? Da-ee?" He grabbed the helmet, shaking it back and forth. "Da-ee! Boo! Da-ee!" The helmet ripped off in his arms. Luke tossed it aside, ready to embrace his daddy's pale head.
There was nothing there. Just some poles supporting the empty suit.
Luke screamed. He poked his head in the empty hole. "Da-ee!" He pulled his head out then climbed down. He closed the jars, gathered them up, picked up the brush, and started out. It took far too long, a lot of concentration, and some helpful growling, but he unlocked the door out of their quarters with the Force and pattered down the empty corridor to continue his quest. "Da-ee! I'm coming!"
He bumped into a stormtrooper right outside the turbolift. He fell onto his butt and gazed up, mouth open. "Hi!"
"Hey, little one." The stormtrooper knelt down in front of Luke. "Where are you going?"
"Find Da-ee!" Luke crowed. He held up the paint brush, then frowned at it. "Wash!"
"You want me to help me wash that for you?" the stormtrooper asked.
Luke nodded. "Hep!"
"All right, then." The stormtrooper picked up Luke and carried him to the nearest 'fresher. He sat Luke down on the counter, then washed out the brush and cleaned Luke's hands, his paint-covered toes, the paint in his hair, and the paint stains on his pants.
Luke picked up a jar and held it up to the stormtrooper. "Bag!"
"You wanna put that in a bag?" the stormtrooper asked.
"Yeah!" Luke said. He gathered the jars in his arms, slid off the counter, then pattered to his quarters. He dug in his drawers and pulled out a backpack.
The stormtrooper packed the jars and the paintbrush. Luke grabbed the peaches, plums, and chocolates Nanny had retrieved from the kitchen and stuffed them in the backpack as well. The stormtrooper helped Luke on with the backpack and patted him on the shoulder. "There, I think you're done."
Luke smiled. "All done!" he repeated.
The stormtrooper's comm beeped. He listened to it, then straightened. "I've got to head down to detention bay. Why don't you stay here until your dad gets back?"
"Okay!" Luke said. "Tank oo, Kix!"
"Good luck, kid." Kix saluted, then left the quarters. He tried to close the door behind him, but whatever Luke had done to it had gotten it stuck. He shrugged and kept going with the door open behind him.
Luke watched him leave, then pattered after him in search of his father.
It took seven levels, three different lifts, over half an hour, and several escapes from concerned stormtroopers and officers made through running fast, squealing, and darting through spaces too small for anyone but toddlers to go. Eventually, however, Luke spotted Vader stalking down a corridor, cape flaring behind him, hands curled into fists.
Luke squealed and ran forward, arms flung wide. "Da-ee!"
Vader froze. "Luke? What are you doing here?"
Luke gave Vader's legs, the only part of him he could reach, a big hug. "I love oo, Da-ee!"
In too much of a hurry to report to the Emperor and then finish all-important flimsiwork, Vader sighed, picked up his son, and continued down the corridor. "We shall speak of this once my business is finished, little one."
Happy now that he had achieved his object of desire, Luke flung his arms around Vader's helmet and pressed a kiss to the mouthpiece. "I love oo, Da-ee!" he repeated.
Vader could feel Palpatine's disapproval as he knelt in front of his flickering blue hologram. "I received the pertinent information from the prisoner, Master."
Palpatine glared at him. "And what was the…" He trailed off and stared at Luke.
Luke stuck his tongue out at Palpatine, then stuck his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers, a rather complicated gesture he had to have learned from the 501st. Vader grabbed Luke's arm and pulled his hand down from his nose.
Palpatine shook his head. "What was the nature of that information?"
"There is a small Jedi hold-out in the deserts of Sullust." Which meant no matter how much Palpatine tortured him, Vader wasn't going after them. He had little interest in chasing down Jedi anyway. He'd rather play with his son. Sand was coarse and rough and irritating, and it got everywhere. Plus, it had an irritating quality of getting in between the joints of his prosthetic limbs and inside his helmet. "I recommend flushing them out with orbital bombardments." Above-ground Sullust was barely livable anyway. The innocent civilians would barely notice.
"Jedi, Jedi," Luke repeated.
"We'll have to discuss…"
"Jedi! Jedi! Jedi!" Luke shouted. He bounced in Vader's arms. "Daddy used to be a Jedi. I wanna be a Jedi."
Vader muffled Luke's words with his hand over Luke's mouth too late to escape Palpatine's judging stare. "He thinks a pilot is called a Jedi," Vader hastily explained, though he neither knew where Luke had learned Vader used to be a Jedi nor what Luke believed the word meant.
"Be sure that it stays that way," Palpatine said. "We shall discuss this further when you are not…encumbered. Come to Imperial Center immediately."
"Yes, Master." Vader bowed his head as the hologram flickered out of existence.
Luke stuck his tongue out again at the space where Palpatine used to stand, then shook his fist at it. "Goo' ri'ance!"
Vader pressed a hand to the back of Luke's head. If he wasn't wearing a mask, he'd kiss his hair. His son was going to get in a lot of trouble one of these days.
Luke poked the decorations on a shelf in Vader's office, mementoes from the Jedi Temple that for some reason Vader hadn't been able to let the troopers destroy. A plastene figurine fell off the shelf and hit Luke on the head.
"Ow!" Luke rubbed the top of his head, glancing back at Vader as if to make sure he caught Luke's injury. "Oopsie. Owie."
As if an exaggerated injury would excite Vader's sympathy so much that he would overlook Luke's naughtiness. "No no, Luke. Don't touch Daddy's decorations." He stood up from the desk for the seventh time and replaced the figurine, then picked Luke up and settled him on his shoulders. "Why don't you play with the stuff in your backpack?" Vader had no idea what was in it, but surely playing with his own stuff would keep Luke from destroying Vader's stuff.
"Okay." Luke gripped Vader's helmet as Vader sat down, then wiggled as Vader bent over the flimsiwork. The backpack unzipped and he held something in front of Vader's face. "Da-ee eat?"
Vader pushed the food—a peach, of all things. Where had he gotten a peach?—away from his helmet. To demonstrate eating solid foods and to bond with his son—mealtimes were apparently a very important bonding time between parent and child—Vader tended to eat meals with Luke in his hyperbaric chamber or plugged into his medical bed. After all, there was nothing actually wrong with his stomach, it just was hard to eat actual meals with Vader's lungs, constantly-busy schedule, and the refusal of Palpatine to ever give him real food. All Palpatine would allow him to eat was nasty Vitapaste, which was supposedly specially prepared for his additional nutritional needs due to the strain of wearing the suit, which also put so much strain on his spine that several vertebrae had had to be replaced with synthetic ones and so much strain on his heart that it had required a pacemaker. If Vader refused the Vitapaste, Palpatine insisted on IVs to keep him alive.
Regardless, to actually eat proper food with his son, Vader had had to smuggle food into his chambers and eliminate several spies and all of his doctors. Luke was familiar now with the concept of Vader eating and loved to push food on him any chance he got.
"Da-ee eat!" Luke shoved the peach in Vader's face again.
"Not now, Luke. You can eat, but Daddy's too busy right now." Oh, for the days when Vader could shove flimsiwork on Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, or Rex. Now, because he had chosen the Dark and Palpatine and they had not—or they had disappeared or died—he had to do all his flimsiwork himself.
"Okay." Smacking sounds continued for a while. Luke seemed content, so Vader focused fully on his flimsiwork.
"Da-ee pretty now!" Luke declared.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Vader's heart sank. "Luke, what are you talking about?"
Luke brandished a dripping paint brush in front of Vader's eyepieces. "Da-ee pretty!"
No. No, no, no. Vader pulled Luke off his shoulders. "What did you do?"
"Da-ee paint!" Luke declared triumphantly.
Vader bolted down the hall to the nearest 'fresher, a necessary knowledge with a son just beginning to potty train. He stood in front of the mirror, his heart sinking further. "Luke, what have you done?" Vader's helmet and shoulder armor were swirled with childish paintings and scribbles and fingerprints. He enabled the new feature he had built in a month ago enabling him to see color—so he could properly compliment Luke's drawings, of course. And so he could see his son without the infernal red cast throughout the entire day.
Pink, yellow, baby blue, and bright green paintings covered the plasteel armor. A pink ship. A blue saber. A yellow trooper. A green flower. A pink and yellow crude painting of Vader. A blue castle. A water fountain. The person and the variety of figures spoke wonders for Luke's cognitive abilities. He was head and shoulders above most children his age, which bespoke his strong Force-sensitive abilities. But why oh why did he have to display his advancement upon Vader's own person? Vader could never go around like this.
"I nee' more paints," Luke said. He dropped an empty jar into the sink. "All out."
Vader groaned. He would be the laughingstock of the troops. No, of the Empire. Or, even worse, of the entire galaxy. "Luke, you should not paint people."
Luke crossed his arms. "Kix an' Appo paint people."
"I am not Kix or Appo," Vader said sternly. Just because Luke had seen the 501st paint their armor didn't mean Luke should be so determined to dress up Vader's armor.
Luke's lip trembled and his big blue eyes filled with tears. "You don't like it?"
"No, no, I like it," Vader hastened to assure him. Luke had already had a meltdown this morning because his socks matched. He didn't need to have another meltdown due to Vader's clumsy dealings with his feelings.
"Good!" Luke said. "It's pretty."
Vader gritted his teeth. He technically hadn't given Luke a ban on painting him before now, so he didn't know how to discipline this. "Come, I must change." Hopefully Luke wouldn't be too upset at seeing him use his spare suit and not the decorated one.
"Okay!" Luke said, surprisingly not upset by the proclamation.
Vader steadied Luke on his shoulders once more and made his way down the—thankfully, empty—corridors to their quarters. The door was open, which Vader fixed, a chair was missing from the sitting room, Nanny was dead near the crib, Luke's boots lay on the floor, and his socks were tucked in between the mattress and the railing. Luke's toddler bed couldn't ship fast enough. He found far too many hiding places for undesired objects in the crib and could climb out of it all too easily.
Vader strode over to the small closet where he kept his spare suit and sent the door hissing open. His stomach dropped. "Luke, what have you done?"
"You didn' say no," Luke defended himself. "I asked."
The missing chair was pushed up to Vader's spare suit, which looked like a tornado had gone through a paint factory and swept up the suit in its wake. Every spare inch of the suit had been painted on with every color imaginable. Empty paint jars lay near the boots amidst paint smears on the floor. Even the helmet, lying on the floor for some reason, had not escaped the destruction. Bright pink flowers, swirls, and ships decorated the formerly black helmet. It was no wonder Luke had run out of paint.
"From now on, you are not to paint any of my clothing or armor unless I give you express permission, is that understood?" Vader said.
Agreeable as he almost always was, Luke readily said, "Okay."
Vader summoned Appo to watch over Luke while he recharged Nanny and attempted to clean his helmet. Key word: attempted. None of the paint came off either suit. While it came off small fingers and toddler clothing with ease, apparently it had the sticking power of Rancor Glue when applied to plasteel. Considering Vader's spare suit was even worse than the one he was wearing, he was stuck sporting his son's decorations until he could convince Palpatine to make him a couple new suits.
He was doomed.
He retrieved an increasingly cranky Luke from a slightly overwhelmed Appo and repaired to the bridge where he instructed the crew in their deviation from Vjun to Coruscant. He tried to ignore their private snickers. He would teach them a lesson in snickering at a Lord of the Sith, but he could hardly Force choke anyone with Luke in his arms.
"Lord Vader, is everything…all right?" Admiral Yularen asked, worry and amusement bleeding off of him.
"Perfectly fine, Admiral," Vader said, refusing to turn his head to acknowledge his faithful officer. "Why?"
Luke smiled at Admiral Yularen and waved.
Admiral Yularen gave a bit of a smile back. "No…no reason, I suppose."
"Very well, then. Carry on with your duties."
Admiral Yularen turned and walked away, but Vader caught Yularen's sigh as he strode away across the bridge.
"I want hot chocolate!" Luke declared.
"No, Luke, not right now," Vader said. Naughty boys who painted their father's helmets without permission did not get hot chocolate.
Luke whined, throwing his head back. "I want hot chocolate!"
Vader restrained a sigh. It was going to be a long flight back to Coruscant.
The End
A/N: Yes, Vader reads parenting blogs. And all that suit stuff is straight out of Legends. Palpacreep is a dirty monster. I invented the Unwavering as the Resolute blew up and the Tribunal crashed. Don't worry, I'm sure this ship will go the way of all ships Vader sets foot on long before any canon arrives.
This fic is inspired by one I read a while back where Luke and Leia painted Vader's helmets. And also by my new kitten. Vader needs to feel my pain babysitting a chaotic toddler. At least Luke doesn't bite.
