(almost) the silliest au.

[imahologram]

Leia's never been so grateful to see a cloak in her life. She pulls it on long before the sandstorm on the horizon reaches them, despite the way the fabric traps the desert's heat against her skin. The weight of the thick, scratchy wool is comforting; it's a barrier between her and the rest of the galaxy, and specifically from the tongues of Hutts who have never thought of anything but their own appetites.

She's quiet in the skiff, by her standards, only cutting into the conversation occasionally, and takes advantage of the huge cloak to ball her fists up in the fabric where no one can see. They all survived the Great Pit of Carkoon, and they're on their way back to the Alliance. Ben will never have to know that his parents were a few steps closer to death than usual. Anyone would be elated by that--right? She's elated, she tells herself. This is the best news since they'd come up with this plan in the first place.

But all she seems to be able to remember is the feeling of holding her chain garrote around Jabba's neck, the way he tensed before her and then--finally--went limp.

It's not until she and Han are staggering out of a sandstorm, up the gangway to the Falcon, that Leia starts to feel close to normal again. She could play the warm, happy friend for Luke, kissing him goodbye with a smile, but it only feels right when she's someplace fortified. Even with Chewie in need of medical attention--Lando can handle that, she hopes--they're a dangerous group to cross when their diplomatic tactics include quad-lasers.

"What can you see?" she asks Han. The last of the wind is muffled by the closing gangway, leaving them alone in the hold with only a dull roar beyond. Han knows the Falcon so well that she probably doesn't have to help him walk from here, but she can't say she'll mind if he leans against her a little longer.

Comments

[straightouttacarbonite]

People have, he reflects, been having and raising babies for thousands and thousands of years, with little to no training and on average a reasonable amount of success. He's not a total idiot, he can manage this. Han obligingly folds his arms to mimic her. He is, he reminds himself, one of the finest pilots out there. He can slip in and out of hyperspace so smoothly you wouldn't spill a drink. He can do this.

And then... There they are, face to face, Ben's eyes (so wide in his tiny face) meeting his. There's nothing mystical or electric about it but it's special and intimate nonetheless, and he's far too fascinated by the novelty of the experience to question it. He shifts a little, some of the stiffness getting out of their pose, settling the baby in more comfortably against him. To his eye, Ben looks a bit like his mother-- he doesn't see the resemblance to himself-- but maybe that's the kind of thing that you learn to see in time.

A smile, soft and frankly amazed, creeps across his face. And maybe it's the only thing he really can say under these circumstances--

"Hey there, kid."

[imahologram]

Han's there in the shape of Ben's face, Leia thinks, and perhaps in those broad ears of his. She can count colouring and little else in her favour, as far as she's concerned.

(Well. Maybe his cheeks. They're rather heavy on his face, and she can't deny a certain resemblance there, though she'd rather that wasn't their main point of comparison.)

Up until the point that Han has Ben settled into his arms, Leia's not sure it's going to work out comfortably. One way or another, he might change his mind, or they might lose the comfortable silence they'd resided in earlier, with no way to get it back. Things might fall apart. But the moment he smiles down at their son, she feels certain of everything. Suddenly, irrevocably, Ben really is Han's; they're family in fact, not theory.

Ben smiles up at Han, a bright, open-mouthed smile that his tongue gets in the way of at times. One of his arms flails up, without much purpose or direction, but that grin has purpose. He's awake and happy, and it shows in the way he looks up at Han, then out at other parts of the room, and back again. Leia's grateful to every bit of the Force that they arrived in time for this.

"I think he likes you," she tells Han with a little grin, setting a hand on his shoulder for a moment before she stands and goes to a cupboard in the wall to get Ben's meal ready.

[straightouttacarbonite]

It's anyone's guess whether it's instinct or mimicry that has him murmuring nonsense at the baby, not looking up. It just seems like the appropriate thing to do. And Ben, for his part, seems to like it, still smiling in that innocent, all-consuming way.

"I hope so," he says after a moment, when the fact that she's spoken registers. He's a little distracted, and Leia, of all people, isn't likely to take it personally. Particularly considering the cause of his preoccupation. Han has a few things going for him, when it comes to holding his son for the first time. He's tall and broad-shouldered, and he's steady handed. When it comes down to it, the difference between actual confidence and faked confidence is fairly slim. Certainly Ben seems to feel safe. He is safe, absolutely. Han has no doubt of that; he'd like to see anyone try anything.

He goes back to murmuring, humming tunelessly, offering his free hand up so Ben can grasp his finger. As if he needs anything to make him look even smaller, more delicate.

"Good grip." Okay, even Han knows that's normal-- but he still sounds proud.

[imahologram]

"I've got a good feeling about it." Everything's set up to use the small space in the room as efficiently as possible, and when it comes to the tiny conservator and nanowave stove built into the wall, it's all thanks to Chewbacca. Having everything Ben needs in one bunk makes a huge difference--but right now, the main benefit is the fact that she can heat up a bottle without missing a moment of Han crooning little hellos to the baby.

He's a natural with this, as much as anyone can be. Maybe because he's spent so much time guiding the Falcon through runs that any sane pilot would balk at, or maybe fatherhood brings a certain instinct with it. She's inclined to think the former, personally. Too many scattered moments of wondering what in the stars she was doing with Ben, and too strong a memory of dodging asteroids.

(If only her own parents were still alive--it's a thought she's had over and over since she found out about the baby in the first place, but it rears its head again at the sight of Han playing with Ben. How she'd like to introduce him--them--to her father and mother.)

"And only a few years before you can start flying lessons," she says, smothering a little laugh as she sits back down next to him and holds out the now warm bottle.

[straightouttacarbonite]

Since they came in he's been distracted enough by the presence of the crib-- and the subsequent, even more distracting revelation of exactly who was in it-- to notice much at all about her quarters. He does manage to glance over his shoulder at what she's doing, though in the vaguest sense at least he's aware of how this works. Babies, bottles. Seems easy enough.

"Years?"

He chuckles, lightly tugging his hand away, getting a little gurgle in answer as Ben's fingers tighten around his. That, he knows, is blind instinct, but it's kind of hard not to get taken in by it. It's kind of amazing how immediately invested he's become in not screwing this up.

"Nah," he murmurs. "A few months. We'll just get him a box to sit on."

Cooing quietly he manages to free his hand to take the bottle, but he pauses a moment, a little unsure.

"Anything I have to know?"

This can't be that hard. The human race persists.

[imahologram]

"At least wait until he can hold his head up." Leia laughs. If that's the mark they go by, it really will only be a few months. If everything in the war goes well, it won't be long before Ben's pulling down controls instead of fingers. He has every bit the potential for piloting as his father.

"Not much," she says, giving him a wry little smile. "You missed the hard part--he knows what he's doing now."

Not accusatory, she hopes. If he had to miss anything, at least it means he's come home to a boy who's starting to make sense of the world around him. Leaning in against Han's side, Leia helps him offer the bottle to Ben. When he latches onto it, she figures Han can take over. "If you keep it at this angle--you want to make sure he doesn't swallow air with the milk."

Otherwise, he'll make all of them regret it later.

[straightouttacarbonite]

There's nothing accusatory about it; it's kind of sad, to think that he missed anything. Oddly what he feels like he missed out on most is the anticipation. Though from everything he's ever heard (which is admittedly not reliable, it's not like he hangs out with real family folk) pregnant women tend to be difficult, maybe he shouldn't complain.

Still. When she had Ben she would have had someone. Before... It seems like it must have been frightening. Maybe he'll work up the nerve to ask, someday, but right now there are bigger things to worry about.

Big, little things. He lets her guide his hand and holds the bottle steady, watching the baby drink. He does seem to have the hang of it, his tiny hand waving til it lands on Han's for a moment here and there.

Han shoots her a glance, obviously inordinately pleased with the both of them.

[imahologram]

Pregnant women in the middle of a war are even worse. Han missed more than one shouting match while he was sleeping uneasily in carbonite, and Leia's not sure whether she's glad of that. At least Han can give as good as he gets when they argue; at one point, she made a new recruit cry and had to go back with sincere apologies later. It was embarrassing and didn't do a damned thing for the Alliance.

"You're a natural," she tells Han. And it's enough to lean into his shoulder, one hand resting on his thigh, and see the wonder in his smile. "If he liked you before, he's going to love you now that he knows you can feed him. Eating's his favourite thing to do."

He'll love Han regardless: Han is his father, after all, and if the way he holds Ben is any indication, he's going to be as steady steady and reliable as any father in the midst of a war could be. Complimenting him, though, is endlessly tempting when she's only had him back for a few days--and it seems like it might bolster his confidence with Ben.

[straightouttacarbonite]

Bravado aside, he could use the boost. Building genuine confidence with this, he can already tell, is gonna take time. Ben squirms a bit and he pulls the bottle back, giving the baby a chance to catch his breath. Not so bad at all. He's done harder things than this.

(Probably.)

[imahologram]

He's already working on instinct, to her considerable approval. Sure, it's on the obvious side of things--when the baby starts fidgeting, give him a moment or two--but it still speaks to the fact that Han's catching on.

"He might be done," she tells Han, standing. "Let me get you a rag."

More panels in the wall to open and close, these ones drawers for clothing and other odds and ends. She comes back with some worn orange fabric cut in the vague shape of a rectangle. They haven't exactly been able to go baby shopping on a regular basis. An undercover rebel managed to pick up the crib and a few other things, but for the most part, Leia's relied on leftovers around the base, X-wing uniforms included.

She spreads the cloth on Han's shoulder. "This part isn't quite as sweet."

[straightouttacarbonite]

"That sounds promising."

Even his sarcasm is tempered a bit, his tone softer than it might be. Partly it's not wanting to upset the baby, mostly it's the inordinate pride he feels at not having screwed this up yet. Look, he likes kids well enough, but he doesn't know a thing about babies. Least of all his own.

He glances at the bright fabric. This, apparently, is his life. (Somehow it makes a little more sense to him this way-- in cramped quarters with makeshift materials, nothing too fancy.)

"So, I pick him up?" He can do that. Without his head falling off. Yeah.

[imahologram]

"That's right." Leia watches. Maybe she hovers a little, hands hovering near his. Maybe. It's easier to let him try to get this right if she knows she can intervene if he doesn't. "Then all you have to do is pat his back."

There are explanations that go along with it: that even at the best of times, Ben swallows air along with the milk, that helping him out with this might make him cry less later tonight, so on and so forth. But she doesn't want to overload Han with the details right now. What really matters is that he burps the baby successfully. The nuances can come later.

She sits on Ben's side of Han, ready to catch him if anything should happen, but she's confident Han can handle this. They haven't even gotten to (X-wing orange and white) diapers yet. This is the easy stuff.

[straightouttacarbonite]

Ordinarily he might grouch and moan about her hovering when he's perfectly capable of doing something, but these are anything but ordinary circumstances. She's got every reason to be uncertain. Hell, he's plenty uncertain himself. Still, his hands are steady; broad and strong, making the baby look even smaller as Han slowly lifts him, careful, settling him against his shoulder with a soothing little bounce of his knee.

His back-patting is a little too tentative at first, but he's on the right track.

[imahologram]

Leia relaxes as Han gets settled with Ben. He's picking this up pretty quickly, and Ben doesn't seem too unsettled by the fact that he's being carried around by someone new. With as many people as have watched him lately, he's probably getting used to strangers' hands, but it's still good to see how calm he is. It's not always the word that comes to mind first when she thinks of Ben, after all.

Eventually, Ben burps, and a little milk comes up with it. Success--at least by some measure.

"One feeding down," Leia tells Han, giving him a tentative little smile. "A million left to go."

[straightouttacarbonite]

"It's mostly eating and sleeping at this age." At least, that's his understanding-- maybe he's fishing a bit for confirmation. No doubt this is going to get old fast-- but for now it's all new and fascinating and a little terrifying.

It'll be good for her to have another pair of hands with this, he figures. Maybe good for him to have something more to worry about. (As if he didn't do enough of that, much as he'd claim otherwise.)

[imahologram]

"That's right." They've been apart, but some things don't change, and that hint of uncertainty in the question is easy for her to find. Her voice is gentle, for Han's sake as much as the baby's. Ben, after all, is as secure in his abilities, however limited, as ever. "He doesn't want anything complicated from us yet."

He's about the only person on base she can say that about. It's one of Ben's graces, the fact that he wants simply and entirely. There are times when caring for him wears her out, but her inability to understand what will soothe him isn't his fault.

(Of course, it's a lot easier to say that when he's happily sticking his hand in his mouth, his fat little cheek pressed against his father's shoulder. Eyaeyaeyaaaaa, he vocalizes around his curled fingers, and Leia carefully wriggles the soiledcloth out from under him.)