han/luke « one shots

carve your name into my heart

inspired from tumblr post i don't remember. #trans!luke, #fluff, #established relationship

rated pg-13 for sexual references and language

art creds: jayessart - tumblr

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"Damnit!"

    Han flinched at the shout from across the hanger, the Corellian pulling back the goggles on his face and brushing his hair back before grimacing at the sticky engine grease that thickened through the locks and brushed against his fingers. He heard a curious Wookiee growl from above the ramp of the Falcon and he pulled out from the panel he was working on to see his co-pilot standing over him.

    "What was that?" Chewie rumbled in his native Shyriiwook.

    Han rolled his eyes, pulling off his goggles completely and tossing them to the ground. "Why would I know?" He rolled out from under his beloved ship and began brushing off his grease-stained pants    .

    "Sounded like the cub," Chewie said with a knowing look, and Han did not blush, damnit.

    "What, Luke? What makes you think it was him?"

    Chewie was silent for much longer than Han expected, the smuggler instantly regretting his question when the Wookiee began huffing with faint laughter. "I've heard him yell like that before. You two don't exactly seal the door on the Falcon very well."

    Han shoved the Wookiee in the chest, but he very well might have shoved a building for all the movement that came out of his friend. He angrily shoved a finger up at the tall alien's face and put on his worst glare, which was nothing compared to Chewie's snarl but still got the job done, "You are so lucky no one else on this base is fluent in Shyriiwook."

    "Why don't you go make sure he's okay at least?" Chewie suggested, ruffling Han's hair and unintentionally disrupting the engine oil and leaving Han's hair sticking up. With a grunt, Han pulled off his tool belt and handed it to the Wookiee.

    "I hate you."

    Chewie barked in much heavier laughter as he watched his cub saunter off with an annoyed tenseness in his shoulders and his fur sticking up ridiculously on his head.

    Luke, who had been training once more, drenched in sweat and wearing only a tank top and cargo shorts, was not expecting Han at all. All that was on his mind was that his binder was growing tighter on his chest the more he exerted himself and that he was beginning to grow frustrated with his lack of progress with his saber. If only Ben had still been alive...

    "Kid?"

    Luke whirled, not used to being snuck up on and only growing more aggravated with his inability to sense presences in the Force. "Oh, Han. Hey. What's up?" He awkwardly raked his hand through his hair and tried not to wince at the cold sweat flicking from the edges of his hair and rolling down his back and through his shirt.

    "Nothing, just checking on you," Han paused, his brow furrowing in concern, "You good?"

    "Yeah, of course," Luke said, cringing at his fake chipper tone. He hated when Han saw him all grumpy, thinking back to when they had first met and Han had had called him a whiny brat. He was about to comment again when he finally noticed Han's hair sticking up with engine grease. "Uh..." He lamely gestured to his own head and watched amusedly as Han blushed and began frantically muttering soft Corellian curses while attempting to fix his hair.

    "Damn Wookiee," Han chuckled nervously before noticing Luke's discarded lightsaber on the floor. "You training?"

    Luke scoffed, "Trying to at least."