Ben knew, deep down somewhere, that his parents loved him. Even if it wasn’t said much, or sometimes at all, and even if it wasn’t always shown, he knew. But he couldn’t help that need to see it. To feel it in a hug or a kiss. To hear it said in passing as an afterthought, as an of course, had never been enough. He didn’t know why he was that way and many times, he wished he wasn’t.
But he was needy. Starved for that attention. Snoke had used that against him. Even Palpatine. Why else would the bastard have told him about Rey’s true bloodline? He’d been desperate for that connection. He still was but at least he currently had it under control.
When Han first touched him, he was too shocked to move and was barely able to keep his gaze steady on his father’s face. The last time they had stood like this, he’d thrown away his saber. Now, he was throwing away his anger. When Han hugged him, Ben wasn’t sure how to react at first. He stayed still, arms out awkwardly as if he’d been caught on a hook. But as Han’s words began to sink in, so did his arms. He hung them around his father loosely at first, then suddenly tight as he clung on. “Thank you,” Ben was able to push out as they broke apart. He wished he could have said more. It felt like he ought to but he didn’t know what. It meant more than Han probably realized, that hug. That physical affection, as brief as it was, did more to heal the cracks than anything Han could have said.
The mention of Luke shook him a little. He winced and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Right, I’ve been avoiding him. He’s always been ... a little hard to approach.” Though working all of this out with Han seemed like a good way for the two of them to start over. Ben snorted at his father’s clear affection for the old ship. “Right. Well, she held up over the years so I guess maybe you’re right about that. How about if we put together a ship, we call her the Falcon 2?”