#clone sergeant soot x reader

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Begin Again (Sergeant Soot x Reader)

Gifting to: Kassy aka @moonlightwarriorqueen <3

Summary: Reader is a youngling-care professional who cares very deeply about their little ones and isn’t afraid to protect them. Sgt. Soot makes a mistake, but he gets a chance to make it right.

Pairing: GN!reader x Sergeant Soot

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a

Author’s Note: Sergeant Soot is a trooper stationed with Commander Grey’s Battalion, assigned to Jedi Generals Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume. He appears in the Kanan comic series! He has one or two lines, so I basically reverse-engineered him into an OC based on his sense of humour, matter-of-factness, and observational skills. Reader is based on a special friend who definitely shares some (protectiveness, fierceness, caring heart), but not all (lack of awareness about clone culture and lives) of the same qualities!

Read while listening to: Someone New by Hozier

~ Sergeant Soot's POV ~

A cacophony of sharp and squealing giggles pierced through the train as the doors slid open.

Through the HUD of his bucket, Soot — ever the alert sergeant — found himself assessing the source: four boisterous younglings of various species, with a humanoid chaperone in tow boarding the car.

“You’re a bantha bum!” taunted the Nautolan youngling to the humanoid youngling.

“Well, y-you’re a hairy bantha bum!” a small Twi’lek retorted.

“Oh yeah?! You’re all the hairiest bantha bums!” interjected the Rodian youngling.

“Shhh! Come, all of you, hush and sit!” Their chaperone insisted as they herded them into the car. They didn’t resemble the humanoid child, Soot thought. They also wore modest, but polished robes. Not their parent, but perhaps not a teacher either.

Breathless laughter and shrieks persisted as the group settled on seats across from where Soot and Big-Mouth stood. Both in full kit, fresh into their 48 hours of shore leave on Coruscant, Soot nudged a sharp elbow at his brother.

“Get a load of this,” Soot whispered.

Big-Mouth responded with an amused huff, “Aiwha-bait would never stand for it, eh?”

“Righto, vod.” The brothers chuckled softly amongst themselves.

Soot wondered at the tenacity of a person who could wrangle such a chaotic crew. He reminisced on exasperated trainers, watchful long-necks, and an “adolescence” (if you could call it that) as a very cautious cadet. As genetically-enhanced assets for the Republic, Soot knew there were different developmental expectations for him and his brothers, but it never seemed quite so clear until a moment like this.

The Nautolan whispered in the ear of the Rodian beside them, both giggling until their colourful cheeks flushed deeper with pigment. The two of them seemed to be conspiring, Soot estimated.

“Hey! Mister!” The Rodian hollered.

“Knapp…” The chaperone started.

“Where’s your blasters?!” The Nautolan piped up.

“Eysu!” The chaperone scolded, “Inside voice, please! And let’s all leave the soldiers alone.”

Soot chuckled, then rotated to expose the hip holster where his pistol rested. “You mean, this?”

“Wizard!” said Knapp and Eysu, simultaneously.

The chaperone’s worried brow deepened. “Sir, I would appreciate if you didn’t display weapons to my younglings. They are in my charge.”

Big-Mouth chimed in, “It’s a big and dangerous city. All the more reason to know how to protect yourself, I say.”

“I doubt my employers would agree with that sentiment.” The chaperone insisted.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Soot apologized. His remorse didn’t seem to appease them. The dull hum of the train only grew louder as the younglings quieted in response to the displeasure of their chaperone.

The chaperone dropped their glance, attending towards the younglings. Soot straightened up, turning the view of his helmet away. Undetectably, Soot continued to watch them from behind the tint of his visor.

Should I say something more?

“Alright everyone, this is where we get off.” The chaperone prepared the younglings to depart. With a curt nod to the two clones, they and the others exited the car.

Ah, kriff.

~ Reader's POV ~

“Come on, please!”

“Being around more clones is the last thing I need after the day I had.” you protested.

“Don’t be a scughole, they may look the same, but they do have different personalities y’know.”

After your unfortunate run-in earlier that day on the train, your younglings had continued to pester you with endless questions about soldiers, blasters, and what the second clone had meant by Coruscant being “dangerous.” It took every shred of your trained patience to maintain a pleasant demeanour until their parents or parents’ aides retrieved them. And now Ni’la was insistent on bringing you to the single most clone-populated establishment in the upper levels.

“I know that, Ni.” You rolled your eyes with disdain, “They’re different, sure, but I haven’t come across one yet who’s taken more interest in me than the size of their blaster or a retelling of their latest mission.”

“Maybeee you just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ni’la sassed. She was dressed in her best and had convinced you to get ready too — without telling you where she planned on heading tonight. Now, the two of you were a block away from the thumping, glaring, buzzy corner where 79’s lived.

“Oh, and you have?” you asked.

“No, but I’m ready to keep looking! C’mon, it’s looking so fun tonight!” She couldn’t contain her apparent excitement, as she sped ahead towards the entrance.

------

Ni’la had gotten her wish, a few times over, as you watched her enchant several clones on the dance floor. Her blue lekku move gracefully with the rest of her body as she swayed to the beat. Fatigued by the day, you had passed on her attempts to drag you with her, choosing instead to nurse your Pink Nebula in an adjacent booth.

You watched as a fourth clone approached Ni’la, evaluating for a second before he changed his trajectory and started heading towards you.

Oh great, you thought, here we go again.

Your trusted stone-faced “leave me the kriff alone” expression did little to deter the man. He was half-armoured like most of his brothers in the bar, but his dark hair was buzzed, short and much closer to the scalp than the typical cut many clones had.

With a beer in his hand, he strode up to the edge of your table.

Using his free hand to rub his buzzed head bashfully, he motioned with the beer towards Ni’la and his brothers on the dance floor. “Your friend’s got quite the fan club.”

“How’d you know she’s my friend?”

“You’re sitting alone, watching but not looking very interested in the pretty twi’lek or the guys she’s with, lookin’ less than interested in anyone and anything else here either.”

You gave a nod of approval for his skills of deduction.

“So why aren’t you up there with her?”

“Been a long day,” you started, taking another long sip.

“Care to enlighten me?” He motioned to the empty space in the booth beside you.

You did the math quickly: Ni’la would probably be occupied by one or more of his lucky brothers for the rest of the evening. Being alone was good and fine, but this was a rare occasion where your conversation partner seemed genuinely interested in you. So, why not?

“Just work. An extra… complicated day, I guess.”

He slid into the empty seat next to you. “What d’you do?”

You hesitated, considering that you didn’t need to revert to your usual level of discretion, seeing as he likely understood the value of informational sensitivity.

“I provide care for the younglings of Senate representatives.” You held your breath, never having revealed the true extent of your employment in such a casual setting before.

“Do you like it?” 

You continued, both impressed and appreciative of his genuine curiosity: “Parts of it. I love my little ones; I love getting to help them learn and play and become who they want to be.”

“But…?” He held your gaze with his warm and assuring brown eyes.

“But being employed by the Galactic Senate has its complications. I’m sure you can relate.”

He nodded, pausing for a moment. This was usually about the time when soldiers you had met started revelling in their tales of glory. That he hadn’t taken the invitation to start talking about himself made him seem different; he was giving thought to your words, your life.

“How do you deal with that?”

“It’s been hard, and I’ve had to take my time. But when the frustrating bits of politics or real life trickles in, I try to keep my focus on the younglings and draw from how joyful and resilient they are. You know how they can be.” You gestured vaguely.

His face scrunched a bit at that.

“Honestly… We clones have a pretty minor frame of reference.”

“Oh?”

“As soldiers, we have an… interesting upbringing, to put it lightly.”

You’d never given much consideration to the intricacies of clones’ lives before their service. 

“But you’ve never interacted with younglings in any capacity?” you asked.

“My battalion’s Jedi general is quite young, but he’s also probably not what you would consider a regular youngling,” he joked.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you huffed.

He smiled, pausing and fiddling with the bottle in his hand. 

“So, youngling expert… What would you say to a real clueless dolt who shows off weapons to younglings?” he looked at you expectantly. 

Your eyes widened as your brain processed the connection. Him. He was the same clone from the train. You gaped at him for just a moment more. 

“… I would say that you’re very lucky that the younglings had such a short train journey. Their chaperone can get pretty nasty when they’re in protective mode.”

“Guess I’m also lucky a certain twi’lek decided to bring their chaperone to the clone bar tonight so I can properly apologize.” He rubbed his head again, “I’m sorry for that.”

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding it hard to resist a small smile.

“Really, I am. Didn’t realize what a headache it would be for you.”

“It’s over now.” You shrugged, hands toying with your now-empty glass. “And now I know you really didn’t know better.” 

“Well, alright then.” His brown eyes continued to hold contact with yours, his attention focused as if you were the single most important thing in the galaxy. You found yourself almost paralyzed by the tenderness promised by his gaze.

Ni’la’s musical giggles broke through the concentration of the moment. It had been a good night out for everyone, apparently. When she realized she had your attention again, she motioned to signal she’d be leaving with her chosen soldier. Her giggle climbed an octave, if possible, as the man swept her up bridal-style and headed out. 

The pair of you at the booth scoffed in unison, humoured by your lively friends.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “Wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?”

“As long as you keep that blaster holstered.” You flashed him a sly smile.

He chuckled, “Oh, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

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