#touchedface

                "Okay, son.”

↳ rough touch starter drabble

15. Your muse bites mine.

                      “OW!”

                      Han retracted his finger away from the baby’s                      mouth  and  went  to  examine it for a moment.                      “He’s teething ALREADY?” His voice dripped                      with disbelief,  watching  a  dot of blood break                      through  the  surface  of his  skin. The  toddler                      broke into a giggle fit that made him bashfully                      bury  his  face  into Leia’s shoulder with small                      hands trying to hide his face. 

                      “—he’s  BEEN  teething  for  a  while now, Han.”                       Her  voice  sounded,      well…  unimpressed  at                       best.  “His  front  teeth already broken  through.”                      She  shifted  Ben  in  her grasp before Han was                      taking  him right out of her hands and bouncing                      him on his  hip.  “Aw,  you  know  what  I  mean.                      I mean that he’s starting to BITE people.”

                      He brought Ben up to look at him face-to-face,                      “Our  little  fighter.”  He  chuckled,  turning him                      around  to  face  Leia  as  he  held him up with                      one  arm  and  began  making the baby punch                      with one hand. “Boosh, boosh—bang! Boom!”                      He  made   sound  effects  to   accompany  his                       little  show,     grinning  the  whole  time  while                      Ben    laughed  so  hard  he  tossed  his  head                       back  and  curled  his  toes  up  with  his  legs.                      “Solo  swings left, right!  Oh no! He’s going for                      the  uppercut,      ladies  and  gentlemen!”  He                      jerked  forward  and  tapped  Leia’s  chin with                      Ben’s  hand.        “Oooooh!  She’s  down!  Ben                       Solo is the winner!”       He tossed Ben into the                      air and caught him with a big grin on his face.

                      Looking over to Leia, he could see that she                      was desperately trying to stifle her laughter                      at her husband’s display.  He smiled at her,                      leaning  over  and  giving  her  a kiss as he                      adjusted their  son to rest in his arms again                      though Ben  left  out a happy squeal and hit                      him on the cheek with an open palm.

                            “I think he wants to fight YOU next.”                           Leia mused with a smirk on her face.

                                         “…”

                            ( kenobi, why do you need to make my life difficult? )

                    Han knew  he  heard something strange coming from                     his son’s room,  stirring from bed and pulling himself                     to go check on him before Leia would awake.   She’d                     had to settle  Ben  three  times this week already and                     he knew she deserved a break. He ruffled up his own                     mess of bedhead. It was still dark --- very dark.     The                     night was  still  going  strong  and so was his son. He                     stepped out of the  bedroom,  peering  down the dark                     hallway  as  he  stepped  out  just  in  time to see Ben                     storming  out  with his little feet thumping on the floor.                     The tears in his eyes broke Han’s heart ever time he                     bore witness to them staining his cheeks.      He’d be                     willing to bet  a  hundred  credits  it  was  nightmares                     again. 

Ice pools at the tips of her fingers and spreads upward throughout the length of her arms, snaking down in tendrils over her shoulders and spine. The slender, faceless figure cloaked in black looms over her, the mechanic distortion of the human voice beneath grating on her ears like sandpaper, and the gentle yet firm touch of gloved fingertips knotting her stomach.

          A hard, loud clank of a body upon metal succeeded her hard push in the          Force. The darksider’s form collided with the open lid of the dumpster to          the side of the alley way, black robes covered in discarded peels and wrappers,          nondescript scraps of paper briefly flying upward only to land on the         shine of his mask. The teetering lid fell downward with a hard smack         against the man’s helmet. Only visible from the opening was a black-         clad leg, long and lean.