Chapter Text
Facing Han that morning was both easier and harder than Luke expected. He found Han in the galley making coffee, and neither of them said a word to each other beyond "good morning". Han acted like nothing had happened, so Luke didn't bring it up either. It was almost a relief.
But he didn't say anything the next day, either. Or the day after that.
Six weeks passed. Then another six. Han still said nothing, but something else began to happen. Luke felt...different. A strange Force echo cropped up, a small one, and it seemed to follow him. It was almost always there, like a shadow just on the edge of his vision. He couldn't pinpoint it. But he had a hunch. And neither it or the Force echo went away. So when they made their yearly stop at the Procyon A starbase for supplies, he slipped away to find the infirmary. He had to know for sure.
Luke hovers outside the workshop door. Han and Leia are talking inside; he doesn't want to interrupt, but he needs to talk to --
"There you are. Where have you been?"
Damn. Leia saw him. Luke gives his sister a nod 'hello'.
"Just running an errand," he says. It's broadly true. Before she can say anything further, he turns to Han and adds, "Han, d'you have a moment?"
"Sure, kid. What do you need?"
"I'm getting some things out of the hold, I could use another pair of hands."
"Sure thing," Han drawls and follows him into the corridor, adding to Leia that he'll be right back.
The pair of them walk silently around the ring corridor to the hold, where Han climbs down first. The hold has returned to its usual state of chaos in the weeks since Luke cleaned it. Han looks around and is just opening his mouth to speak when there's a harsh creaking above him. He spins around to see Luke shut and lock the hatch, then climb down after him. He arches an eyebrow.
"What's this all about?"
Luke climbs down the last rung to the floor. "We need to talk."
"Couldn't we have done that up there with Leia, where it's not suspicious?"
"No." Luke drops the word heavily; he sounds so grave that Han is taken aback for a moment. But he doesn't speak immediately. He shuffles a few paces away, hugging his arms to his sides, and leans on a tall shipping crate. Then he stares Han down.
Now Han's a little worried. He sticks his hands in his pockets and tries not to meet Luke's gaze. "So, uh...who talks first?" he smirks.
"Han, I'm serious."
The smile falls off Han's face. "What, did someone die?"
Luke sighs irritably. "No one died, Han, it -- look, would you just shut up and listen?"
The pilot makes a zipping gesture across his mouth, then gestures to Luke. Luke isn't impressed. He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, appears to collect his thoughts for a moment.
"I've...suspected this for a few weeks." he speaks slowly and haltingly. "I didn't want to tell you until I was completely sure, but..." he hesitates. "I'm pregnant."
A long pause follows. Han's eyes drift down to Luke's abdomen. There's no discernible change; he's not far enough along. His eyes drift back up. "You sure?"
"Medical droids aren't exactly known for being wrong," says Luke.
Han makes a quiet noise of disbelief. "Well that's fantastic, but why couldn't you say that in front of --"
Just then, the penny drops. A look of dawning realization spreads across Han's face, closely followed by a look of dismay. Luke just watches, his expression carefully neutral.
"Wait. Wait wait wait, are you --" Han hesitates. "Are you saying what I think you're --?"
"Yes."
"Am I the --?"
"Yes."
Han looks like he might pass out. He props himself up on the wall and drags his hand over his eyes. "...The Corellian brandy," he mutters. Luke nods, and Han's expression becomes a grimace. "Damn." the two stare each other down for a long stretch of seconds. There aren't enough words in Basic or any other language to say what needs to be said.
"Kid, I'm..." Han laughs ruefully. "I guess 'sorry' just doesn't cut it, huh?"
"No," Luke agrees. His voice is still sharp-edged, but his expression has softened very slightly.
Now Han slides down the wall to sit on the cold metal floor. His fingers find a stray bolt, which he absently fidgets with while he thinks. After a minute or so Luke joins him, and they sit awkwardly shoulder-to-shoulder.
"So. What happens now?" asks Luke.
"'S not my question to answer," says Han, tossing the bolt from hand to hand. He looks more subdued than Luke has ever seen him. "You'd be the one havin' the kid, not me. It's your choice."
Luke shuts his eyes. Tension flashes across his face for an instant; when he opens his eyes again, his expression is unreadable.
"I'm keeping it," he says slowly. Han fumbles, and the bolt clatters away across the floor.
"You sure, kid?"
"You said it's my choice to make."
"Yeah, I did..." that's that, then. Stars and space. Han stares at the opposite wall in stunned silence. Luke speaks up again, quietly.
"We'll have to tell Leia."
Han cringes inwardly at this. "I know."
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