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Han loves his brother-in-law, he does. He’d probably die for the kid, if it came down to it. He just wishes Luke would stop making friends with the entire damn galaxy for a second.
There’s a Mandalorian on the Millennium Falcon. Tall, quiet guy, decked out completely in fucking beskar, of all things. Han would never admit it out loud, but he’d wager the Mando’s armor alone is worth more than the falcon.
And that’s already a lot to stomach, alright, considering the only thing Han knew about Mandalorians prior to this was that he never wanted to be in a room with one ever again. It’s safe to say that this wasn’t what Han was expecting when Luke asked for a ride for him and a friend of his. The green little gremlin the Mando carries with him didn’t exactly help.
But to make matters worse, Luke looks at the guy like he’s just about the best thing that ever happened to the kid.
Han loves his brother-in-law, he does. He just wishes the kid had better taste in men, like Leia.
The Mando’s sitting at the table in the common area, where he’s been fiddling with some weapon that’s built into his suit of armor for the entire ride now. He’s clearly struggling with the wiring, thick gloves limiting his motor functions and Luke’s offered to help him out on three separate occasions now, but the Mando keeps refusing. Han’s a little worried he’ll blow up the ship.
“I can help out, Din, it’s no problem,” Luke starts for the fourth time. The green child in Luke’s lap nods, and then turns it’s big eyes up to face Luke, as if it’s trying to figure out what he just agreed to. It’s a little cute, not that Han would admit it.
“I’m alright,” the Mando says, for the fourth time, and Han half wishes he’d just do them all a favor and botch it, so he doesn’t have to hear this exact exchange again.
Han fully expects him to keep doing what he’s been doing the entire damn ride, which is not a lot, but instead, the Mando makes a frustrated little noise, and then unceremoniously rips the heavy leather glove off his right hand. The newly visible skin is littered in scars, and slightly too pale after years of not seeing the sun, but Han still catches the way Luke’s eyes are glued to it.
“Oh Din,” Luke says. “You’re practically naked.”
He sounds genuinely a little excited, Han notices against his will. It’s a hand, nothing to write home about in Han’s own humble opinion, but Luke’s eyes never leave the Mando’s exposed skin as he uses his now bare hand to fix the faulty wiring.
Han had known, on some level, that Luke liked the Mando. He hadn’t quite expected the kid to be this far gone though.
“Very funny, Skywalker,” the Mando says, and suddenly and entirely too late Han realizes that the guy’s a giant idiot. Luke stares at the exposed skin, hangs on to every word the Mando says, and still the Mando hasn’t noticed.
Han fights the urge to laugh. Han fights the urge to get black-out drunk. He’s so going to call Leia later.
The wiring, it turns out, wasn’t as broken as the Mando had made it out to be, and is fixed terribly quickly, considering the amount of time he’s spent on it. Finally, for the first time in the entire ride, the Mando turns to face Luke.
“Ad’ika,” he murmurs, in a soft voice, and Han feels his eyebrows shoot up. “Stop trying to eat the Jedi’s robes. He’s agreed to train you, so you need to be nice, alright?”
The child, Han realizes a bit belatedly. Ad’ika is the child. He turns to face Luke and sees that the child in his lap really does have a bit of Luke’s nice black robes stuffed into his mouth, not looking the least bit guilty at being caught.
Luke looks a little like he’s about to swoon. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he says, which is rich, coming from the guy that threatened Han with his lightsaber once for taking a pair of boots out of his closet without asking. He gently pries the child’s fingers out of his robe, the Mando’s careful gaze never leaving him. “He’s just a bit nervous.”
The Mando- Han doesn’t know what the Mando does. Something about him shifts, but Han can’t put his finger on what. “You can tell?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that’s making Han feel like he shouldn’t be here for this.
Luke just smiles. “I can.”
The Mando reaches his hand towards his child, gives him a finger to hold onto instead of Luke’s robes. “What’s he nervous about?”
Luke is quiet for a long second. The whole Jedi wardrobe and quiet smile make it seem like he’s thinking, listening to the child, but Han’s known the kid for almost ten years. Luke is distracted by the Mandalorian and the child, and the picture they make together. “Han,” Luke says.
Han stares at his brother-in-law. “Hey!”
The Mando turns to him instantly, and Han’s dread at a Mando’s stare is pretty much muscle memory at this point. Luke chuckles a little. “It’s nothing serious, Din. Han doesn’t like Mandalorians, and Grogu picked up on it.”
“You don’t like Mandalorians?” The Mando’s voice sounds more icy than when he talks to Luke, though it might just be Han’s imagination.
“I don’t like a Mandalorian,” Han clarifies, and he’s about to add something stupid, because that’s just who he is, but then Chewie saves him by yelling from the cockpit.
Both Luke and the Mando stare at him expectantly.
“He says we’re almost there,” Han translates.
Luke gets up instantly. He’s going to join Chewie in the cockpit, Han knows, to see the planet from afar as they’re approaching. The view doesn’t get old to Luke.
It’s almost a little sweet how Luke settles the little gremlin on his hip without a second thought like he’s done it many times before. It makes Han think that Luke has known the Mando for quite a while already, and just neglected to tell him and Leia.
The Mando stares after him as Luke makes his way to Chewie and even with the helmet, Han notices. Han finally sees this situation for what it is. The Mando’s an idiot, and he’s in love with Luke, who might be an even bigger idiot still.
They’re barely off the ship before Han comms Leia.