He has a kid.

Sitting in the pilot seat, staring at the green, cooing thing, Din isn’t sure what to make of himself.

Hadn’t he so long ago sworn that he’d never be swayed by his own instincts, that he wouldn’t be that kind of omega?

The ones media liked to portray, the omega with wide hips and a child on it with an alpha coming home from work to scent them?

Not that there was anything wrong with that way of life.

It just…

It wasn’t Din.

Din was not that kind of omega.

Din walked a lonesome road, flew among the stars, kept to himself and tried to hide his designation to avoid complications. Hell, the few times he had flown his old gang, he had always dismantled his nest and hid it.

He didn’t want to bother with them figuring it out.

But here he was, a child on his lap and a covet he had left behind to fend of the Imperial remains of a Moff, his instincts having screamed too loudly when he saw the hover pram in the trash.

The moment he had seen it, his mind had switched off and his instincts had kicked in.

Just hours earlier he had been in Paz Vizla’s lap, giving into said instincts.

Maybe they had been closer to the surface from, maybe it had been his own guilt, maybe Din was trying to give himself excuses, maybe it was a combination of all three.

But the end result was the same.

A child in his lap on the Razor Crest, his covet left behind and a bounty on his head more than likely, along with the kid.

And he didn’t even know what species it was or what his name was.

Dropping his head back, Din’s helmet made a thumping noise as he exhaled loudly, the kid staring back up at him while chewing on his hand. “…I’m not quite sure what to do now.” Din admitted quietly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Din had given into his instincts and his covet was paying the price, while Din fled.

Like a coward.

He twitched and the kid gave a low, worried coo at him, Din closing his eyes before letting out a shaking breath. His scent must be sour again, Din wasn’t sure what to do about that.

There was nothing in his life to tell him how to deal with this.

Maybe if Din had reached out a little more to the rest of his pack, maybe if he had spoken to the Armorer, after all, as an omega and alor, she would know more, know better, maybe some way for Din to deal, so many maybe’s and nothing to do about them as he carefully lifted the kid and put him back in the pram.

Instead he forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily, forcing calm into his veins as he repeated the action four more times.

Least he felt calmer as he turned back to the kid, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t suppose you have any answers kid?” He questioned tiredly, only to get a soft coo and the kid chewing on his hand again.

Din blinked, turning back to the controls to put the Razor Crest into autopilot.

Then he stood and picked up the child. “I imagine they didn’t feed you properly in that lab,” He mused out loud, wondering when was the last time he had spoken this much to someone. “If you’re willing to choke down some rations, I got some food at least.” He moved out into the galley, heading to the small, very small, kitchen it had.

It would be at least something for the kid to eat… if he ate rations.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what this kid even ate and for a panicked little moment, he wondered if the kid was so young that he drank milk. Then his mind kicked in and reminded him that the little one had eaten a live frog for Manda’s sake.

It was very unlikely that the kids proximity would push Din’s body into producing milk.

He let out a shaken breath of relief, the kid squeaking up at him, as if questioning what was wrong now.

“Alright kid, lets see how you do with bland rations.” Din bounced him absently a bit, his brain pausing on the move before he just forced himself to get the ration bars out. ‘Just… roll with it Din, just roll with it.’