.

.

"How can you think I'm anything but hopelessly in love with you?"

It's a confession— true blue and heartfelt, and Chewbacca's pretending like he has heard nothing, padding between them. He growls musingly to himself.

Han's tongue jams against his teeth.

Shit — shit, this was a bad idea.

Luke sitting cross-legged to the floor, and he suddenly looks ages older to him.

"Can we please talk about this later?" he murmurs, avoiding eye contact.

Something about it just infuriates Han — combined with his embarrassment — and he gets up, noisily knocking aside the tools by Luke's knee.

"No—" His voice trembles a moment, "—we are gonna talk about it right now. I'm not any good at this, Luke. You can ask anyone." Han pauses at the silence and gives him a mock-laugh, smile too wide and toothy, cocking his head. "You know what, I know it's not exactly convenient for you…"

Luke's features grimace up, and Han's finally getting a reaction out of him. Even if it's anger. "Oh, just—" Luke huffs out, clenching his fists and glaring up at him. "Do not bring me being a Jedi Knight into this."

"You're the one leaving."

"Sorry, that's usually your go-to plan, isn't it?" Luke snaps, and then all the tension stringing him uncoils. He slumps over his own lap and runs his hands over his face. Luke's voice going quieter, mournful. "Han, I didn't—"

"No, you're right," Han says tonelessly.

He throws away his rag smeared with engine oil, in the opposite direction of Luke staring down at his palms.

"Guess you had to learn it from someone, huh?"

.

.


SW isn't mine. I did this snippet as a challenge fic a few months ago on Tumblr and thought I'd share it here! Aaaaaaangst. Please enjoy!