Tumblr prompt: Could you write a fanfic Rey being pregnant and fearing to tell Kylo?

Rated T.

"I know, you know?"

Rey turned from the scrubbing of her boots. It wasn't as if the Resistance had protocol on how clean their pilots' boots had to be, but Rey had found that fastidiousness was one of the few comforts she could cling to even in the most tumultuous of times. Kylo Ren was standing a few feet behind her, looking laughable in the clothes that had been given to him by the Resistance, all browns and beiges. In the absence of his destroyed helmet, he'd taken to wrapping a dark brown scarf multiple times around his neck and draping the end over his head in a poor imitation of his past hood and cowl.

He looked more like one of the water-gathering wives of Jakku than a formidable villain, but Rey wasn't going to say anything.

"Know what?"

His eyes flicked down to her middle, then back up again.

"I know you're with child."

"Stars, Ren!" Rey yanked him over to where she stood with her shoe brush. "Not so loud!" she continued in a hushed whisper.

She looked around to see if anyone had heard, but they seemed to be fairly on their own. Everyone still gave Ren a wide berth after what had happened on Starkiller, no matter how many First Order hideouts he gave up to intelligence.

"'With child,' Ren? Seriously?"

"Don't try to make this about my superior prose, Rey," he whispered back. "You weren't going to tell me."

"Of course I was going to tell you!" She slammed the brush down on the table, causing the few people who were near them to turn their heads. Rey grabbed him by his ridiculous water-wife hood and tugged him unceremoniously under the worktable. "And how did you know, anyway?" Her hand drifted protectively to her middle, a movement Ren watched with some trepidation.

"Our– The…" He chewed his lip, looking around for anything to focus on than Rey's waist–and not finding much. "It's Force sensitive."

Heat flushed Rey's face as she realized. "It's… You can sense it?"

His eyes drifted back to her stomach. He couldn't help being drawn to it.

"Yes."

So that feeling wasn't just her, then. She blanched with realization.

"So, your mother knows? An–and Luke?"

"You're asking questions to which you already know the answer."

She nodded dejectedly, trying to not see him staring at her womb.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" he demanded in a gruff whisper.

She scoffed. "Are you kidding? You've known, apparently! And you seem none too happy about it."

"I–!" Ren stuttered to a stop. Reached a tentative hand to where hers was clutched. Drew away. "I didn't think you'd want… My…"

It was silent under the table. Quiet enough that another pilot came up to do a much less thorough job of cleaning his own boots. They both sat, waiting for him to either notice them, or leave. He didn't notice, or enjoyed the scene too much to care, and cleaned both boots twice before walking away.

"I was afraid to tell you," she muttered once he'd left.

"Because you don't trust me."

She nodded slowly. "Because I don't trust you."

He leaned away from her with a grunt. "Nobody trusts me, but that doesn't make you any less with chi– Any less pregnant."

"No," she agreed. "It doesn't."

She added another hand the the one cupping the slight swell of her belly, trying to keep her breathing regular. She could talk to General Organa now, she supposed. Find out what she needed to know. A tickle of something–sentiment? delight?–nudged at her as she thought about what he'd said.

Force sensitive. Already. She almost smiled at the idea, but didn't want Ren to see. She'd never had a family, not really, not before Finn and Poe and General Organa. And perhaps Ren, if bickering and passionate making-up counted for anything. But now, it seemed, she was set on making her own. With those friends that were her support and this little flickering thing inside her.

And Ren, the one who helped to create it.

She glanced across at the man under the table with her. He was looking so hard at her stomach it made her uneasy. In the dim light, she couldn't make out his expression. Dread? Excitement? Disgust?

"What are you going to do?" he asked suddenly, making her jump and knock her head on the underside of the table. He didn't take his eyes from her clutched hands.

"Keep it, I guess," she answered as she reached to rub her head. She watched him for a reaction, but he gave none.

Typical.

"What are you going to do?" she asked back.

He sat still for another moment before reaching over to cover her hand on her middle with one of his own. Rey swore she felt her body grow warmer. Felt that little flicker again.

"Work on earning your trust, I guess," he murmured in answer.

She did smile, then. A small thing, and only long enough so that he could see it.

He smiled back, just a moment, before settling back into the usually hard set of his face.

"Okay."

End.

I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!