The common area of the *Ghost* was a patchwork of chaos and comfort, a cramped sanctuary amid the endless void of space. Mismatched furniture—a sagging couch here, a wobbly table there—cluttered the space, while holo-maps flickered on a nearby console, casting a faint blue glow over the room. The low hum of the ship’s engines vibrated through the walls, a constant reminder of their nomadic life. At the center of it all, Lilli Korvell stood before a cracked mirror propped against the wall, her brow furrowed as she tugged at the waistband of her favorite cargo pants. The fabric bit into her skin, pinching just above her barely-there baby bump.
“Kriffing hell,” she muttered under her breath, yanking at the stubborn material. “Not even a proper pregnant person yet, and I’m already busting out of my damn clothes.” She caught her reflection in the mirror and grimaced, her sharp green eyes narrowing at the slight curve under her shirt. “I look like I’m smuggling a ration pack. Fantastic.”
The sound of boots scuffing against the metal floor announced Kanan Jarrus’s arrival before he even spoke. He strolled into the room, a steaming mug of caf in one hand, his usual roguish grin already tugging at his lips. Leaning against the doorway with an air of casual mischief, he took one look at Lilli’s frustrated fidgeting and couldn’t resist.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you’re already losing the battle with your wardrobe, Korvell. Should I call for reinforcements?”
Lilli spun around, her hands still gripping the waistband of her pants, and fixed him with a glare that could’ve melted durasteel. “Oh, shove it, you scruffy nerf-herder. You wouldn’t understand the struggle of a changing body if it hit you in the face with a vibroblade.”
Kanan chuckled, unfazed by her venom, and took a sip of his caf. “Hey, I’m just saying, there’s no shame in comfort. Why not switch to some maternity gear? I’m sure Hera’s got a crate of stretchy stuff stashed somewhere.”
Lilli’s jaw tightened, her hands dropping to her hips as she squared off against him. “I’m not there yet, Jarrus. These pants and I have been through wars together. I’m not giving up on them just because my body’s decided to stage a mutiny.”
Their banter escalated, the air crackling with the familiar rhythm of their verbal sparring. Lilli jabbed a finger at him, her voice sharp but tinged with a smirk. “You’re clueless about anything that doesn’t involve a lightsaber or one of your half-baked plans. Stick to brooding mysteriously and leave the fashion crisis to me.”
Kanan raised an eyebrow, stepping closer with a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh, I’m full of solutions, sweetheart. How about I help you adjust those pants?” He held up a pair of scissors he’d snagged from the table, twirling them with a dramatic flourish. “A little snip here, a little snip there. You’ll be back to ruling the galaxy in no time.”
Lilli’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she snatched the scissors from his hand. “You’re an overgrown child, you know that? Keep those clumsy paws away from my clothes before you turn them into bantha fodder.” Despite her words, there was a flicker of amusement in her tone, and she didn’t step away as he lingered close.
Their hands brushed in the brief tussle over the scissors, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through them both—a quiet reminder of the night that had changed everything. The memory hung heavy in the air, unspoken, as their eyes met for a fraction of a second too long. Lilli broke the moment first, stepping back and smoothing her shirt over the small swell of her bump. Her voice softened, though her usual edge remained. “It’s just… annoying, alright? Everything’s changing so fast, even if it’s barely noticeable. I hate not being in control of it.”
Kanan’s smirk faded into something gentler, a rare sincerity softening his rugged features. He set the caf down on the table and crossed his arms, his gaze steady on her. “Hey, bump or no bump, you still look like the toughest fighter on the *Ghost*. Pretty sure you could take down a squad of stormtroopers without breaking a sweat, even smuggling a ration pack.”
Lilli scoffed, rolling her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her. “Don’t butter me up, Jarrus. I know your game. You’re just trying to dodge diaper duty when the time comes.”
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and for a moment, the tension between them eased into something familiar, comfortable. “Me? Dodge responsibility? Never. I’m a model of maturity.”
“Sure you are,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “About as mature as a hyperactive Ewok.”
They shared a quiet laugh, the air still charged with unspoken questions about what lay ahead—about them, about the life growing inside her, about the chaos of their rebellion-filled existence. But for now, they settled into the easy camaraderie that had always defined them, even through the storm of their changing dynamic.
Finally, Lilli sighed, casting a begrudging glance at a crate of supplies in the corner. “Fine. I’ll try on one of those stretchy maternity tops. But if I catch even a hint of a snicker from you, Jarrus, I’ll shove you out the airlock myself. Got it?”
Kanan held up his hands in mock surrender, though the twinkle in his eye hadn’t dimmed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss. I value my life too much.”
She shot him one last withering look before turning toward the crate, muttering under her breath about insufferable Jedi and their infuriating smirks. But as she rummaged through the supplies, a faint warmth lingered in her chest—a reminder that, tight spots or not, she wasn’t facing this alone.
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