52A/N: This is/was my first fanfic, essentially my baby. Thanks to Purple who gave me the idea. Warning for exaggerated "Vader" behavior due to a purposefully comedic (or hopefully comedic) plotline.
Darth Vader was not a happy Sith Lord. He was being woken up at three o'clock in the morning by those bantha fodders that everyone called babies. Even worse, they were his babies and it was his turn to go and comfort them.
He stormed angrily over to Luke's crib hearing the wailing become louder and louder with each step. The baby lay awake in his crib, howling at the top of his lungs. His father stood next to the crib,
"What do you want at this forsaken hour?"
The wailing continued.
Vader was not a patient or understanding Sith Lord - Mustafar had made him a little grouchy. He used a testy and more commanding tone that could make an Imperial Admiral wet his drawers: "Luke, answer me...or be destroyed!"
Luke's wailing ceased for a moment as he looked at the shiny black-clad figure that hovered above. The wet blue eyes blinked twice, but then an even louder repercussion began.
"Don't make me kill you!"
Luke was pushing it. Vader raised him out of the crib and bellowed with all the might his respirator could muster,
"DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"
He was just about to shake the baby when—"Ani! You never shake a baby!"
Padmé stepped in, and snatched her son away from her deranged husband. She smelled his diaper and briskly removed it to reveal horrendously smelly contents. Luke was silent again, lying contentedly before his mother on the changing table.
Padmé spoke groggily as she replaced the diaper, "Ani, you can't expect little Luke to answer back. He can't speak yet, remember? You must be patient."
"Sith Lords are not patient, my angel. I am a Dark Lord of the Sith. Ergot, I am not patient. It's against our nature."
His wife rolled her eyes and mumbled, "I doubt that 'Don't make me kill you' will really help either."
"I heard that! DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"
The former queen cocked a skeptical brow and sighed wearily to her husband, "Anakin. You have your responsibilities, and I have mine. I know it's hard for you, and you'll have a long day tomorrow. Go to bed."
Before complying, Vader looked at Luke and said, "I love you son, but don't make me kill you." He shuffled slowly to bed, sure that if ever he was to get peace, it wouldn't be for another seventeen years when his children would leave his property to live independently.
Padmé rolled her eyes yet again with amusement and chagrin.