Fic: Disconnections: Part 2 (Star Wars - Luke/Han, #8: Night)
Title: Disconnections (Part 2)
Fandom & Claim: Star Wars (Han/Luke). Written for 20_1sttimes
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Table 2, #8: night ( Prompts Table)
Summary: Set several months after Return of the Jedi. Luke is keeping something from Han and it's threatening to destroy their friendship. On the eve of going their separate ways they attempt to breach the growing distance between them.
Disconnections
Part 2
The barracks are two buildings joined together and Han's never got to grips with the rambling layout, nor with the illogical decision to house the sleeping quarters in the older structure. Here, the system of climate control is next to useless most of the time, so all the bedrooms swelter in the almost year-round hot season. Plus, through some insane decision dreamt up by the Alliance powers-that-be who never slept here, the 'freshers are in the adjoining block. So the pilots trailed from one building to the next just to take a shower.
He doesn't bother to ask himself why Luke sticks it out in such a hell-hole of a building when he could've had a room in the Officers' Quarters, complete with en-suite 'fresher and state-of-the-art air cooler. It wouldn't occur to Luke to set himself apart from his Squadron, even if flying with them is a rare thing for him these days. Han's more of a loner and he's just as happy sleeping in the Falcon as he is in the room he used to share with Leia, but he's not averse to a few home comforts. Luke doesn't seem to want or need them. But then Han suspects that staying here tonight, alone, feels significant to Luke - though he isn't going to speculate on why that is. If he does, he'll end up wondering if Luke isn't as ready for change as he appears to be.
There's a covered walkway that leads into the newer building with its communal rooms. The first one is the mess hall with its battered, well-used tables and benches still set out in rows. There's a subdued light from the adjoining kitchen - evidence that the power circuitry is still functional here. Han peers into the room, but apart from the industrial stove and gaping, emptied coolers, it's as deserted as the rest of the place.
The rec room is a wide, low-ceilinged annex tacked onto the far end of the building. In the few times Han's been here he's known where to find it by the constant noise and laughter, and it's always been a struggle to make his way through to the bar. This time the room is almost silent, except for the low hum of an overhead security lamp that bathes the surroundings in a dim wash of blue light.
The place is stripped of all the miscellaneous paraphernalia that accompanied the off-duty pilots. There are no games tables and no music console. No discarded helmets, flight gloves or datacards. The only reminder of the room's former chaos are a number of overturned chairs. Han skirts around them, resisting an unaccountable urge to right them.
There's a weak yellow glow from a transparisteel cooler set against the wall behind the bar and it illuminates the open door of a walk-in storeroom. That's where Han finds Luke, an open box on the shelf in front of him, its contents spilling out in a haphazard mound.
"You didn't let me explain," Han says.
Luke doesn't look round from his search of the box. "You don't need to." His tone is matter-of-fact but it's a long way off disguising the tension that Han knows is there.
"I do need to, so just listen will ya!"
Luke puts down a tangled mass of unidentifiable objects and turns round to face Han. "Okay, I'm listening."
Now he's got Luke's attention all the things Han thought about saying on his trek through the barracks have vanished from his mind, and all he can summon is an inept awkwardness. "What you just told me... y'know, it was kinda hard to take in. I said stuff off the top of my head. If you'd let me have a chance to think about it..."
"You'd have said the same things, just in a more roundabout way. I didn't want any long answers. Just your gut reaction."
"I was tryin' to be honest but it didn't come out right. You got the wrong end of the stick."
"You know what's crazy about all this?" Luke asks, once again throwing a question at Han that seems to bypass Han's explanation.
Besides everything? Han thinks. "What?"
"It's one of things Leia said to me. That we should make the most of the time we have until people find out. It'll be our last chance to live normally before it all changes. She knows that afterwards, whenever people look at us, they'll see Vader instead."
Luke walks out of the storeroom, his search for candles either abandoned or forgotten. Han follows him, a frown creasing his brow. "Being worried about it doesn't sound so crazy. She's wrong though - no-one's gonna do that," he maintains.
"I didn't mean it was crazy of her to think that. But we've spent the past few months not living normally, just because we held off from telling people. You and Leia split up. We sort of... drifted apart. That's what's crazy."
Luke leans back against the bar, his eyes on Han. He's standing directly in front of a climate control vent and the draught from it catches his tunic, ruffling the fabric. Luke doesn't seem to notice as he continues to talk. "People will look at us and see Vader. It won't all be bad, but it'll happen. Caring about that isn't why Leia wanted to wait though. She's worried about how it'll affect the Alliance. It's still early days."
"I get what you're saying and I can see why you've gotta take your time and think it through. But I'm not doing what you think I'm doing. I'm not lookin' at you and seeing Vader instead."
"But it changes how you see me. Isn't that the same thing?"
Luke pushes off from the bar as if he's going to walk away again, but Han's already there. His hands come up to grip Luke's shoulders, preventing him from moving. "Of course it changes how I see you! What d'you expect? And yes, I do see Vader, but not in the way you think!"
He takes a breath, knowing he's too close to exploding with all his pent-up fury towards Vader. "You're everything he wasn't. I haven't a freakin' clue how Vader ended up like he did or how the hell he got to be a father, but I do know you're nothing like him."
Han's suddenly conscious of his hands on Luke's shoulders. Of how close to Luke he's standing and of his fingers gripping hard like he doesn't want to let go. He breaks his hold, too abruptly to seem natural, and sees the surprise flash across Luke's face.
He keeps talking, partly because Luke's actually listening to him and partly to cover up his confusion. "You're tellin' me you found out on Bespin right after Vader carved you up? Then what did you do? Run 'n hide? No - you got yourself fixed up. You made a plan and you worked at it. D'you think I'm not lookin' at you and wondering how you kept it all together?"
Luke glances away for a moment. "I don't know if I did. Not all the time." He looks back at Han. "There were days when I couldn't come to terms with it."
"Sounds about normal to me." If normal is the right word to use for something as extreme as discovering you had Vader for a father. "So when I say I see Vader, I'm seein' the differences between you," he continues. "I'm seeing how you fought him and how you went 'n faced him after everything he did. It's you I'm seeing, not someone in your place! Sure, some things've changed but they're just details. You're still the same person. But now I'm seein' just how strong you are 'cause you're still here after going through that!"
"I didn't do it alone. I-"
"No," Han interrupts. "You went by yourself to find Vader and I'm guessing that's how it's been the whole time."
"Being by myself wasn't the same as being alone. I think you understand that."
It's another one of Luke's cryptic observations, but in this case Han believes he understands. Luke's talking about friendship and support - in part, his motivation for carrying on. But Han thinks there's more to the remark than meets the eye. He thinks Luke's drawing a comparison to their current situation. That they need to remember what they mean to each other and not allow themselves to get lost in stupid misunderstandings and imagined slights. And maybe Luke's pointing out the potential loneliness of carrying on the way they've been going. That they stand to lose too much.
"So what about now?" Han asks, in place of a direct reply. The fact that he's here tonight is enough of an answer to Luke's comment and he doesn't need to add anything to make that clear.
Luke throws him a quizzical look. "What are you asking me? If I still feel I'm not alone? Or if I've come to terms with being Vader's son?"
"Both, I guess," Han says. He fastens his eyes on the scratched, pitted surface of the bar and traces a line of cracks with a fingernail. He can sense that Luke's far from convinced by his answer, but he's not about to offer any other possibilities.
"The short answer's yes, most of the time. But if you're really asking what happens between us, then I don't know."
Startled, Han looks up from the countertop. "What?"
"You said you came to say goodbye. It that still what you want?"
"I never wanted that. I didn't think there was a choice."
Something shifts in Luke's expression and he takes a couple of steps towards Han. "There's always been a choice."
Luke's very close to him again and Han has to fight the urge to back away. It's a contradiction he's well aware of - that the desire to back away stems directly from the desire to move even closer and if he doesn't do one he might well end up doing the other. He forces himself to keep talking instead, even though he's not too sure what Luke's trying to say. "Yeah, well I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"Jumpin' to conclusions. Being an asshole these last few weeks. Not being there when Vader got hold of you," Han explains.
"That's hardly your fault."
"Yeah, well if I'd been there I'd never've let it go. I'd have kept on at you till you told me. Instead you had to deal with it by yourself."
The look Luke's giving him is full of something that Han can't identify. He'd call it affection for want of a better term, but it seems more ambiguous than that. Luke's next words are full of the same indefinable warmth. "For what it's worth, I wish you'd been there too."
It's worth a great deal to Han, but now they've stumbled into an uncomfortable silence where neither of them knows what to say. Part of him wants to simplify things. To set the soul-searching and emotional turmoil aside for something more mundane. He realizes they could both do with a breathing space where they can stand back and take account of everything they've said. But the other part of him can't bring himself to leave. His eyes alight on a row of glasses stacked beneath the bar and he reaches for one before he can change his mind. "Maybe I'll have that drink after all," he says.
There's a fractional pause before Luke responds. "There's stuff in the cooler if you want," he says.
Han nods, wondering why the thought of a drink holds so little appeal. He moves towards the cooler.
"Han."
There's something about the way Luke says his name that triggers a new feeling of alertness inside Han. "Yeah?"
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
The question, so totally unexpected, stops Han in his tracks. He turns round to face Luke, already deriding himself for leaping to conclusions. It's a simple enough question and the answer's surely just as simple. All Luke wants is company in this lonely, abandoned building. And it's their last opportunity to spend any time together.
"Sure."
The single word response is neutral enough to cover all interpretations but it doesn't seem to satisfy Luke. He moves another step closer to Han, his eyes searching Han's face. "You know what I'm asking?"
Han hesitates, feeling like he's reached a boundary that may not be safe to cross. "Depends on whether you want me to stay as a friend or as... somethin' more."
"How about both?"
Han stares back at him, all of a sudden struggling for words. "Okay," he manages.
Luke says nothing but the overhead security light catches his eyes just long enough for Han to see the question forming there. He knows it for what it is and tries to forestall it before Luke's able to voice it. "I want to." He says it as decisively as he can, because whatever Luke thinks is going on here, it has nothing to do with Han forcing himself to do Luke a favor.
"But if I hadn't-"
Han cuts him off. "Don't start questioning it."
A small smile touches the corner of Luke's mouth and flickers briefly in his eyes. "Right," he says.
Another period of silence, but this time it's edged with a tension that hadn't been there before and it forces a niggling doubt into the back of Han's mind. He tells himself to ignore it because how can he start questioning it himself after denying Luke that opportunity? Luke's asked Han to stay and he's agreed, and maybe it shouldn't matter so much that Luke understands his motives for saying yes.
"You wanna get that drink?" Han hears himself ask into the stillness. Even though the last thing he wants to do is sit in the rec room forcing down a drink he'd rather not have, looking over the rim of his glass at Luke and wondering if they're about to make the biggest mistake of their friendship so far. But he asks because he wonders if they should take the time to think. He doubts that either of them are capable of making a rational judgment right now. Luke, after revealing something that Han would've found almost too much to handle, is possibly looking for a way to reconnect with Han and maybe for a few moments where he can forget who he is. As for what Han's looking for - one night with Luke isn't going to come close to being enough.
"No. I'd like to go back to the room."
Luke's reply brings Han's thoughts to an abrupt halt. All but one, and that homes in on the underlying need he hears beneath Luke's measured words, and the instinctive, visceral response that shudders through him. He tries to reply but Luke's not waiting. Han watches him head for the doorway and disappear through it into the dark corridor. He looks down and sees that he's still clutching the empty glass in his hand. He places it on the countertop and follows Luke.
***
The candle's burnt down to almost nothing, sputtering out the last moments of its life by throwing distorted shadows across the room. Luke's standing by the window, motionless, the fading candlelight glinting in his hair.
Han holds his gaze for several long moments. Just a short while ago they were talking about change, and Han's had no time to adjust to the twist in reality that means rethinking all he knows about Vader. Now things are about to change again and whatever happens in the future, their relationship will have altered. It already has. The instant Luke asked him to stay was the instant they stepped onto unfamiliar ground. Han's often seen how change can be a catalyst for further change, and he wonders if Luke's request has its roots in the shift that's already taken place between them.
But now isn't the time to look for reasons, and Han can see in Luke's face that he's reached a place where he's agonized enough and talked enough and now he's waiting for Han to meet him in that same place.
Han says nothing, then turns and closes the door. It's the clearest signal he can possibly give. The electronic lock isn't working but there's an internal steel security bolt. Han slides it home and notices that his hand isn't quite steady.
He moves up to Luke until they're almost touching and Han can feel the heat of Luke's body just a fingertip's breadth away. Luke's giving off an aura of calm but it isn't fooling Han. He sees the rapid throb of a pulse at Luke's temple and hears the slight unevenness of his breathing. There's too much tension, too much unsaid and too much he doesn't know about what Luke wants, but he pushes all that aside and reaches for Luke's shoulders. Pulls him up close and fastens his lips to Luke's.
Maybe he's been expecting Luke to be conflicted. To show some degree of confusion or reluctance even though he's initiated this. There's none of that. No hesitation, no doubt and no holding back. Just an overriding need that transmits itself from Luke to Han in the way Luke opens up to the kiss, his tongue pushing deep into Han's mouth and his hand reaching up to grip Han's head. And it catches Han unawares, shattering the tenuous hold he has on all his feelings for Luke. Amongst them, more deeply concealed but as quick to surface, comes a potent desire.
Even through this tumult of emotion a couple of thoughts take shape in Han's mind. The first is the realization of how close they came to missing this chance for good. But, just like always, they're taking a risk instead of playing it safe, and now Han's losing his head to Luke. His second thought is the recognition of how quickly he's turned from someone who's taken such pains to mask his craving for Luke into someone who's dominated by it. He's unable to tear himself away but equally unable to ward off the urge to touch Luke in ways he's never considered possible. He can't stem the groan from deep in his throat.
Luke's reaction is to break the kiss and step back, something in his gaze anchoring Han in place. Han's eyes lock on Luke as Luke's fingers move to the fastenings of his tunic. His breath catches as Luke pulls the tunic over his head and throws it aside. He's seen Luke undress before, but never like this. And never through eyes that feed on every angle, every plane and every curve of his body.
Luke bends down to pull off his boots, and the moment he stands upright again is the moment Han's able to move. He sheds his clothes automatically, his eyes still fixed on Luke, riding through the surge of arousal when Luke works the buckle of his belt loose. And when Luke's waiting there amidst scattered clothing and discarded weapons Han feels like he's taking his first breath in hours.
To Han, Luke's always had a suggestion of innocence about him. And even after all Luke's done and all he's been through Han's never been able to let that feeling go. Now, as he stands and stares at Luke in the last vestiges of candlelight, he sees a side to Luke that leaves no room for such a sentiment. Because Luke looks far from innocent now, with a focused light in his eyes and a breathless hunger shivering across his skin. There's a flush of heat suffusing Luke's chest and a sheen of sweat from the stifling humidity. The hard heaviness of his erection gives him a raw physicality that sparks a powerful, reflexive response in Han.
It takes Han a second to close the gap between them and to join their mouths together again. He doesn't know how they make it to the bed but somehow they're there, and he pins Luke's body beneath his own and smothers Luke's sharply-drawn breath with a searching kiss.
If they stay like this, wrapped around each other and fuelled by the chaotic force of lust Han knows they'll consume themselves in moments. Maybe it's catharsis Luke wants, but Han thinks this won't be enough. It's impossible to separate his own desires from those of Luke, but he only really knows what he wants. He wants to drive it out of Luke - all the mess and heartache of the past - but he doesn't want it to be over. He wants to make Luke ache and burn. He wants him shaking with need, groaning and desperate. And he wants to watch him come, gasping out Han's name.
He's going on instinct and nothing's telling him to stop. And as much as Han wants to touch him, Luke wants to be touched. He can't discover all there is to discover about Luke in one night, but it's as though Luke's impelling him to try through murmured sighs and the ripples of pleasure Han feels beneath his hands. He builds on Luke's arousal, drawing his palms across Luke's body and brushing his lips over hardened nipples. He kisses him behind his knees and along the soft skin of his inner thighs, slowly and deliberately winding Luke up to a point where he's close to losing control.
Luke knows what Han's going to do. Han can tell by the throaty imprecation that tears itself from Luke's lips and the clutch of his fingers in Han's hair. Han's never heard words like this from Luke before and now he wants to hear them over and over again. He takes Luke in his mouth, suddenly oblivious to the noises Luke's making. He's aware of only one thing now. The salt-sweet slickness of Luke's erection and the fullness and heat between his lips. He uses his tongue, holding down Luke's hips when Luke arches beneath him. Han knows he can't stop. That he's going to take Luke in deep, and he's going to push him on, further and further, until he falls apart.
But Luke's trying to hold back, and the hands tugging at Han's head tell him Luke wants something else. It's an effort for Han to drag himself off Luke, and he's left empty and aching for the taste of him. He's conscious of the blood pounding inside his head, and Luke's erratic breaths show how close Han came to finishing it. He leans in close to catch Luke's words.
He thinks he should've anticipated this. That for Luke to want anything means he's likely to want everything. Han wants it too, with a whole-body craving that's impossible to deny. But a small warning gets through to his befuddled brain that advises restraint. "You know, we've got the whole night. Maybe we oughta-"
"Han..." Luke cuts off his voice of caution, but Han knows it never had much of a chance anyway.
"We need something."
"The locker." Luke's words come out short and terse, but Han knows that's down to the effort to speak rationally.
He slides his feet to the floor and opens the locker door. The candlelight doesn't reach inside and it's difficult to see. He can't find anything in there that's of any use at all. There's just shaving stuff, datacards and Luke's datapad. The last-minute things still waiting to be packed. He pushes them aside and knocks a bottle to the floor. It doesn't break but rolls across the stone tiles, noisy in the silence. It contains the thin liquid soap handed out by Alliance Supplies, and which is no good for anything, let alone-
He feels Luke's hand on his shoulder, and the press of warm fingertips. Then there's Luke's voice, a quiet murmur in his ear. "Let me look."
Han moves aside and sits back on the bed, watching him. He's still wound up, his body too aware of Luke and his breathing not yet evened out. But the interruption gives him a chance to regain control. It also gives him a chance to think. He wonders if they should keep it uncomplicated. But Luke's not one for doing that and neither is Han, and maybe they only have this one night. He doesn't want to consider that. Doesn't want to imagine how it's going to feel to wake up without Luke for an endless succession of days in the future.
"Here." Luke hands him a tatty kitbag, fastened with a metal catch. Han recognizes it because he's got one himself. They were supplied to everyone on Hoth to help counteract the grueling conditions. The catch is stuck, corroded by the perpetual moisture of Oryllin's environment, and he has to tug hard to loosen it. Inside is a familiar-looking jumble of regulation-issue medications. Han knows, with a strange ache inside, that Luke hasn't touched the kitbag since leaving Hoth and he thinks he can guess why. It represents a side to Luke's life that Luke believes he's lost. It has to do with innocence and idealism. With optimism and dreams for a path that changed so much in such a short space of time. But Han's sure there's a part of Luke still holding out a hope for that. It's why he's kept the bag, hidden away in the depths of the locker.
His fingers close around a stoneware jar, and he knows it's this that Luke was thinking of. It's one of the things they used to help withstand the blistering cold of Hoth's climate. They'd smear the contents on exposed skin to protect it from the freezing wind and penetrating chill. Han remembers the smell of it and the greasiness on his face that lingered even after scrubbing. It's perfect for what they need but Han knows there's no way to hide the memories it'll bring back. He wonders if Luke realizes that.
Luke's moved back onto the bed and now he's behind Han, wrapping an arm around Han's waist. The spontaneous warmth of the gesture takes Han by surprise though it shouldn't, because showing affection comes naturally to Luke. It's just that lately it's been missing, at least towards Han. He touches Luke's fingers with his own and tries not to read too much into it.
There are stronger currents of emotion running beneath the affection, and the brush of Luke's lips against the side of Han's face is full of a desire that's still unanswered. Han twists his head round to find Luke's mouth, reaching up with a hand to thread his fingers into Luke's hair. He's fooled himself into thinking he's tamed the well of longing inside but, just like before, Luke proves him wrong.
"Still wanna do this?" Han asks, when they break the kiss. His voice sounds rough and ragged to his own ears.
"Yes."
Taken over again, Han presses Luke down onto the bed, inhaling the contradictory scents of soap and sweat that cling to his body. He reaches for the jar and prizes open the lid. The well-known, pungent aroma drifts from it and images from Hoth flood his mind. The over-ripe smell of the tauntaun pens. Struggling into heavy, outdoor clothing. Tossing a resigned grin at Luke before braving the howling gale of a daytime storm.
For a moment Han thinks he sees a distant look in Luke's eyes, as if his mind is back in the frozen wasteland of the far-flung planet. But the candlelight is failing fast and Han can't know for sure.
The heat of Oryllin has turned the balm into a semi-opaque, viscous liquid that clings to his hand when he scoops it from the jar. He presses a coated finger inside Luke, and the sharp inhalation Luke takes causes his own breath to hitch deep in his throat. He tries to take it slowly but he's up against the urging of his body and Luke's heedless, impetuous side that compels Han to be less than careful.
When he pushes into Luke he knows it's too much, too soon, but Luke's not about to let him go. Han feels Luke's tension permeating into his own body, tightening his muscles in protest. Or maybe it's the other way round. That his anxiety that he might not make this work is smothering them both. Whatever the cause, he has to make things right.
Han grasps Luke's wrists, forcing his arms back onto the bed. He holds him there, pinning him down, his own pulse sounding a hectic rhythm in his head.
"Breathe!" The word snaps out of him, too much like a command but it's too late to take it back.
Sweat has broken out across Luke's brow, and Han watches as it trickles its way slowly into Luke's eyes. With his hands restrained Luke's unable to prevent it and he blinks hard at the salty sting of it. Han leans down and brushes it away with his lips, drifting his mouth slowly across Luke's closed eyelids. It's an act of mute apology but it's also something else. A declaration that needs no words, and Han knows how much he's given away.
The proof is there when Luke's eyes fly open to reveal confusion sliding together with doubt. It makes Han wonder what Luke thought this would mean to him. A few moments of gratification as a way of offering moral support? Some fast and furious attempt to purge the past few months from their lives? Or maybe that Han agreed to this to prove his acceptance of the son of Vader? Whatever Luke first thought, Han knows he sees the reality of it now.
He holds Luke's stare and waits. It probably seems like an ultimatum. That Luke takes him the only way Han's willing or not at all. He doesn't mean it like that - he'll do whatever Luke wants but he's not going to pretend it means less to him than it does. There's no room anymore for hiding the truth. How can there be, after all they've said tonight?
"I didn't know..." Luke's voice is soft, but Han catches beneath it a trace of residual strain.
"So now you do."
Luke tugs a hand free from Han's grip and reaches for Han's face. It's a light touch, but far from casual. There's too much heat in Luke's fingertips, and too much need in the trail they make across Han's lips for it to signify rejection. "You could've told me."
"Didn't know how you'd feel about it," Han mutters.
Luke starts to smile. It begins with the slightest curve of his lips and slowly takes over the whole of his face, transforming him and wiping away the last of the tension. "Haven't you worked it out yet?" he asks. His hand curls around the back of Han's neck and he pulls Han down. "I love you," he says. "And I want you," he breathes against Han's lips, just before Han locks his mouth on Luke's.
It takes just moments for Han to lose himself and somewhere along the way he takes Luke with him. He knows it's working by the sounds Luke makes and the way he tightens his legs around Han's back. And Han's crossed another line. One that was stopping him from saying things he's always wanted to say. He says them now, watching the reactions that chase across Luke's face. And he tells Luke things. About how he wants to make Luke feel and what he wants to do to Luke. Explicit, carnal things that make Luke groan and arch against him.
And finally, when he knows he's reaching the limit of his endurance, he holds Luke's legs, gripping him firmly behind the knees, and drives into him, deep and hard, until Luke's clenching his hands into the sheet beneath him, gasping and incoherent. In the end, Han isn't sure what Luke cries out when he comes, because he's drowning, abruptly and overwhelmingly, in the intensity of his own climax.
He's grounded by the shakiness he feels in Luke's legs and the realization that the deeper darkness means the candle has well and truly died. He also knows he can't do anything but collapse on top of Luke. He plants a kiss on the inside of Luke's thigh and disentangles their bodies, feeling like he's moving under water. Luke's lying there, dazed and immobile, and Han has to shift Luke's arm so he can curl up against Luke's side. He drapes his own arm across Luke and feels Luke's heartbeat thudding in his chest. He can't find the energy to speak and he wonders if he'll ever be able to move again. He lies there, listening to Luke's settling breaths and feeling his eyelids growing heavier. His last conscious thought tells him they've found a way to chase those shadows from Luke's eyes.
***
It's still dark when Han awakes, though the faintest hint of brightening through the shutters tells him dawn isn't far off. It's oppressively humid in the room. And very empty. He pulls himself up to a sitting position and rubs at his face with the heel of a hand, trying to clear the heavy lethargy from his mind. A quick survey of his surroundings reveals Luke's holdall on the floor but no sign of his clothes.
Han drags himself out of bed. He's too hot and his skin is sticky with the residues of sex and sweat. The scent of Luke clings to him, along with the greasy remains of the Hoth balm. The combination is earthy, heady and already addictive. It also tells him that he needs a shower. He wraps the crumpled coverlet around him and sets off down the corridor.
There are puddles of water on the floor of the 'fresher and an overhead faucet drips in one of the shower cubicles. Wherever Luke's vanished to, he's not been gone long. Han turns the water on, as cool as it will go, and lets it blast down over him until he thinks his body has reached a temperature approaching normal. He's forgotten to bring the liquid soap from Luke's locker but there's a half-empty bottle on the floor of the cubicle. When he opens it he realizes it's Luke's. It bears no comparison to the insipid, watery liquid the Alliance hands out to all its recruits. Instead, it's a thick, luxurious gel that seems at odds with Luke's general lack of extravagant possessions. But Han admits that it's kind of silly of him to think this way, especially after his late-night discovery of Luke's hunger for the sensual. He knows now that Luke engages in sex in the same way he engages in most things - with no holds barred - but that's not so unexpected to Han. It's the way Luke approached him last night that's really taken him by surprise. Han prides himself on his blunt, no-nonsense attitude to everything, but he has to admit that where Luke's concerned all that seems to fly out of the window. It was Luke who made the first move while Han just stood there trying to find his tongue. And it was Luke who took the gamble - another one of Han's supposed claims to fame.
He breathes in the aroma of the gel, recalling the traces of its sharp, citrus scent on Luke's skin last night. The memory cuts through the remaining fog in his brain, and for the first time since waking he allows himself to think about today.
Because soon they'll go their separate ways. He's no idea what that means because he hasn't asked Luke. All he knows is that Luke's leaving to help re-build the communities of Kalssos, torn apart by the Empire because of their allegiance to the Jedi of the Old Republic. He doesn't know how long it'll take. Six months? A year? Forever?
And Han will be going to Zinavora to rejoin Leia and Mon Mothma and the rest of the Alliance, and life will go on as usual. Except Han doesn't want 'as usual'. He wants what he had last night. He wants Luke in his life, with all his crazy ideas and uncanny ability to attract trouble. He wants him for all his mixed-up feelings and misplaced guilt. For his openness and empathy, and his idealism that just needs a little time to resurface in full. And he wants him for everything he's seen in the past few hours. For all that passion that left Han reeling and in a stupor for the remainder of the night.
When he turned down the track last night he told himself he should open his eyes. Face reality. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, he should've asked himself why Luke was avoiding him. He should've known there's normally one of two possibilities for behavior like that. Either someone feels too little and they just can't be bothered anymore. Or they feel too much.
He stands under the dryer, the draught raising a shiver across his cooled flesh. Then he grabs the not-so-clean coverlet and trails back to the sleeping quarters.
When he passes through the walkway into the older building it's like walking into a solid wall of heat. Perspiration breaks out across his face and chest and when he reaches Luke's room he's wondering why he bothered to shower in the first place.
The shutters are wide open, letting fresher air into the room along with the pale orange glow of early sunrise. The swarms of dronebugs have disappeared, settling down into their daytime slumber in the shade of the trees. Luke's standing by the window looking fractionally less hot than Han. On the whole heat doesn't bother Luke much but the humidity is trying for all of them, even those who don't come from dry, dusty desert worlds.
"Hey," Han says.
Luke smiles back at him, the breaking light from the sky catching the side of his face. Han wonders how something that makes him feel so good can produce such an ache inside.
"Where d'you go?"
"To the comm room," Luke replies. "I had some transmissions to make. I spoke to Leia."
Han nods. "It'll be difficult from Kalssos."
"Impossible, until their communication system's fixed up. And that's gonna take time."
"At least the Alliance is providing some of the equipment." Han's amazed by how calm he sounds, and how he's managing to have a rational conversation about the place that's going to take Luke away from him. But then Luke moves towards him and his rationality takes a step back.
"And I spoke to the Kalssonian Ambassador."
"Uh huh." Han catches the tiniest hint of citrus in the air. He doesn't know if it's from his own body or from Luke's, but it makes him think of moving his lips across Luke's abdomen. He's going to have association problems with the scent from now on.
"We've worked out a rough plan."
"Yeah?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Sure," Han asserts. He's just not sure he wants to hear.
"No you're not." Luke wraps a hand around Han's neck and brushes a kiss against his mouth. "We've made some changes to the original one."
"Right," Han says. He slides his arms around Luke, holding him in place. "The original what?"
"Plan," Luke grins. "Pay attention."
"'That's what I'm tryin' to do." Han pushes a hand into Luke's hair and kisses him. He doesn't mean for it to be so prolonged or quite so full of all the things he knows he shouldn't say, but it ends up that way regardless. When he finally breaks it he speaks before he can think. "I don't want you to go."
Luke's got both his hands around Han's neck and he's running his fingers through the hair that grazes Han's nape. "I have to. I've made a commitment. I can't break my promise."
"Yeah, I know." Han's got no intention of prolonging the agony with a long list of counter-arguments, even though he has to force himself to refrain from voicing them. "I know it's important to you too," he adds. "'Cause of the Jedi thing."
Luke gives a quiet smile. "Yes, it's important, but so are a lot of other things. I'm not just going to turn my back on everything else. The Kalssonians understand that."
"Is that what you talked to the Ambassador about?"
"Sort of. Mon Mothma's spoken to her a few times already so she knows what the situation is. She told her she's getting hundreds of requests a day from worlds wanting help and she can't promise long-term assistance from the Alliance."
Han frowns. "But you're leaving the Alliance. What's it gotta do with Mon Mothma how long you stay on Kalssos?"
"It was a leave of absence, not a goodbye. I told you that." Luke's lips touch Han's again, briefly.
"I figured it was the same thing," Han says. Belatedly, he picks up on the single incongruous word that Luke's used. "Was?"
Han's com-link starts an insistent beeping from somewhere in the room. He glances around, spotting the crumpled up mound on the floor that constitutes his clothes.
"You gonna get that?" Luke asks, already extricating himself from Han's arms.
"It can wait. I wanna know what's goin' on."
"Mon Mothma contacted me last week. She wanted to know if I'd be willing to undertake the visit to Kalssos as part of an Alliance assignment rather than go unofficially. Then there'd be no need for a leave of absence."
Han tries to ignore the small flurry of hope that's stirring inside him and keeps his questions casual. "Why the change of heart? I thought she said she couldn't swing an official visit?"
"The Kalssonians are offering to send a number of med-droids to Zinavora in exchange for a small Alliance team. Admiral Ackbar's pushing for it because the medical frigates haven't got anywhere near enough droids."
"It's news to me," Han says.
"Because it's still at the negotiating stage. Or it was, before today."
"You spoke to Mon Mothma this morning?"
Luke nods, then leans back against the open window. The smallest of breezes has got up and Han sees it stirring Luke's hair. It's a precursor to the strong, searing winds that blow in daily from the southern quadrant and make the environment of Oryllin even more inhospitable than it already is.
"I knew I wanted to say yes but I didn't know if it was still possible," Luke explains. "The Kalssonians were happy with the exchange but I wasn't sure if they realized it included me."
"They're okay with that?"
"Yeah, more-or-less." Luke pushes away from the window and walks up to Han. His hands come up to frame Han's face. "The Alliance team's gonna stay until the Kalssonians have rebuilt their defenses. It'll probably take a few months. I'll have to stay a bit longer than that though."
"A few months is better 'n a few years," Han mutters. The small flurry of hope has turned to something akin to a snowstorm. He moves his face to kiss one of Luke's palms. "I can't wait that long 'cause I still want the long answer."
Luke gives him a perplexed look. "What long answer?"
"Last night I asked you if you'd come to terms with things. You know..."
Comprehension flashes in Luke's eyes. "Vader, you mean."
"Yeah. You said the short answer was yes. Which means there's a long answer and I know it's not gonna be simple. We've still got a lot to talk about."
"No, it isn't simple. There's so much I'm not even certain about myself."
"Must be some things you're never gonna know. With Vader dead..."
"I know. And I know nothing about the Jedi really. Yoda told me very little and that bothered me at first. Now I think he meant it that way. He wanted me to create my own future, not tie me to the past."
"But what about telling other people about Vader?" Han asks. "You're still gonna be living with secrets if you don't."
Luke nods. "People need to know. Not just because I want to be open about it but because it's important. He killed the Emperor and I want everyone to know that. Not because I expect anyone to see him differently - he still did what he did."
"Just because it's the truth," Han says.
Luke gives another nod, more thoughtful this time. "We need to decide how to do it though. Leia's right about the Alliance and it being early days. And first we need to tell our friends."
"Maybe I can help out," Han suggests.
"You already have." Luke strokes the knuckles of his hand down Han's cheek. "You're the one person I had to tell. It's made a big difference." Luke's eyes take on a faraway look for a moment before he focuses his gaze back on Han. "The hardest thing's been to keep hold of my past. Sometimes I feel... disconnected. Like my life before now hasn't been real. I had this picture in my head for so long. For all the time I was growing up on Tatooine. My father was dead, but he'd been a good man. Someone who would've cared for me if he'd lived. My Aunt and Uncle built that image up for me and Ben added to it, turning my father into a hero of the Republic."
"And now you've gotta reconcile that picture with the real thing."
"I thought... because I'd never known my father it'd help. But it doesn't work like that. Everything's tied up with everything else. It's meant re-examining everything in my life. It's the same for Leia. She's not exactly had good experiences of Vader."
Han grimaces. "I think I'd be in denial."
"I was at first. Or I tried to be. It didn't work because I knew it was true as soon as he told me." He flashes a sudden grin at Han. "Simple tricks and nonsense, you know."
"Hey, I've come a long way since then," Han protests. "You've gotta admit that."
"Oh, I do. And by the way, because I'll be going to Kalssos on Alliance time Mon Mothma wants regular reports."
Han can feel the smile starting on his face. "You'll have to fly back to make 'em then. Communications ain't gonna work from there, like you said."
"No," Luke agrees. "Or she might want to send someone out to check on progress instead."
"Y'know, checkin' on progress is one of my specialties."
"Really?" Luke's hands have moved back to Han's neck. "What are the rest?"
Hans smile widens into a grin. "Gonna take too long to describe 'em all. Dunno how much time you've got."
"I'm not leaving till this evening. I've got to talk to General Madine about getting a squad together."
Han pulls a face. "Lucky you."
"What about you? Aren't you supervising the move out?"
Han grabs hold of one of Luke's wrists, twists it a little to read Luke's chrono, then gives out a short, sharp curse. "I'm s'pposed to be there in 15 minutes. And if I don't turn up an angry Wookiee's gonna come lookin' for me."
"You'd better shut the door then," Luke suggests.
"Uh... why?"
"So he can't find you."
Han swallows. "You mean I'm gonna be late?"
Luke's fingers take a hold of the not-very-secure knot that's keeping the coverlet fastened round Han's waist. "Yeah. Very late."
Han's not about to disagree. Instead he reacts in the only way possible, by winding his arms around Luke and seeking out Luke's mouth with his own. And, just like last night, he manages two clear thoughts before he abandons himself to the kiss. First, that the ground crew will probably end up moving everything out by themselves. And secondly, that Luke's going to take him by surprise all over again.
Fandom & Claim: Star Wars (Han/Luke). Written for 20_1sttimes
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Table 2, #8: night ( Prompts Table)
Summary: Set several months after Return of the Jedi. Luke is keeping something from Han and it's threatening to destroy their friendship. On the eve of going their separate ways they attempt to breach the growing distance between them.
Disconnections
Part 2
The barracks are two buildings joined together and Han's never got to grips with the rambling layout, nor with the illogical decision to house the sleeping quarters in the older structure. Here, the system of climate control is next to useless most of the time, so all the bedrooms swelter in the almost year-round hot season. Plus, through some insane decision dreamt up by the Alliance powers-that-be who never slept here, the 'freshers are in the adjoining block. So the pilots trailed from one building to the next just to take a shower.
He doesn't bother to ask himself why Luke sticks it out in such a hell-hole of a building when he could've had a room in the Officers' Quarters, complete with en-suite 'fresher and state-of-the-art air cooler. It wouldn't occur to Luke to set himself apart from his Squadron, even if flying with them is a rare thing for him these days. Han's more of a loner and he's just as happy sleeping in the Falcon as he is in the room he used to share with Leia, but he's not averse to a few home comforts. Luke doesn't seem to want or need them. But then Han suspects that staying here tonight, alone, feels significant to Luke - though he isn't going to speculate on why that is. If he does, he'll end up wondering if Luke isn't as ready for change as he appears to be.
There's a covered walkway that leads into the newer building with its communal rooms. The first one is the mess hall with its battered, well-used tables and benches still set out in rows. There's a subdued light from the adjoining kitchen - evidence that the power circuitry is still functional here. Han peers into the room, but apart from the industrial stove and gaping, emptied coolers, it's as deserted as the rest of the place.
The rec room is a wide, low-ceilinged annex tacked onto the far end of the building. In the few times Han's been here he's known where to find it by the constant noise and laughter, and it's always been a struggle to make his way through to the bar. This time the room is almost silent, except for the low hum of an overhead security lamp that bathes the surroundings in a dim wash of blue light.
The place is stripped of all the miscellaneous paraphernalia that accompanied the off-duty pilots. There are no games tables and no music console. No discarded helmets, flight gloves or datacards. The only reminder of the room's former chaos are a number of overturned chairs. Han skirts around them, resisting an unaccountable urge to right them.
There's a weak yellow glow from a transparisteel cooler set against the wall behind the bar and it illuminates the open door of a walk-in storeroom. That's where Han finds Luke, an open box on the shelf in front of him, its contents spilling out in a haphazard mound.
"You didn't let me explain," Han says.
Luke doesn't look round from his search of the box. "You don't need to." His tone is matter-of-fact but it's a long way off disguising the tension that Han knows is there.
"I do need to, so just listen will ya!"
Luke puts down a tangled mass of unidentifiable objects and turns round to face Han. "Okay, I'm listening."
Now he's got Luke's attention all the things Han thought about saying on his trek through the barracks have vanished from his mind, and all he can summon is an inept awkwardness. "What you just told me... y'know, it was kinda hard to take in. I said stuff off the top of my head. If you'd let me have a chance to think about it..."
"You'd have said the same things, just in a more roundabout way. I didn't want any long answers. Just your gut reaction."
"I was tryin' to be honest but it didn't come out right. You got the wrong end of the stick."
"You know what's crazy about all this?" Luke asks, once again throwing a question at Han that seems to bypass Han's explanation.
Besides everything? Han thinks. "What?"
"It's one of things Leia said to me. That we should make the most of the time we have until people find out. It'll be our last chance to live normally before it all changes. She knows that afterwards, whenever people look at us, they'll see Vader instead."
Luke walks out of the storeroom, his search for candles either abandoned or forgotten. Han follows him, a frown creasing his brow. "Being worried about it doesn't sound so crazy. She's wrong though - no-one's gonna do that," he maintains.
"I didn't mean it was crazy of her to think that. But we've spent the past few months not living normally, just because we held off from telling people. You and Leia split up. We sort of... drifted apart. That's what's crazy."
Luke leans back against the bar, his eyes on Han. He's standing directly in front of a climate control vent and the draught from it catches his tunic, ruffling the fabric. Luke doesn't seem to notice as he continues to talk. "People will look at us and see Vader. It won't all be bad, but it'll happen. Caring about that isn't why Leia wanted to wait though. She's worried about how it'll affect the Alliance. It's still early days."
"I get what you're saying and I can see why you've gotta take your time and think it through. But I'm not doing what you think I'm doing. I'm not lookin' at you and seeing Vader instead."
"But it changes how you see me. Isn't that the same thing?"
Luke pushes off from the bar as if he's going to walk away again, but Han's already there. His hands come up to grip Luke's shoulders, preventing him from moving. "Of course it changes how I see you! What d'you expect? And yes, I do see Vader, but not in the way you think!"
He takes a breath, knowing he's too close to exploding with all his pent-up fury towards Vader. "You're everything he wasn't. I haven't a freakin' clue how Vader ended up like he did or how the hell he got to be a father, but I do know you're nothing like him."
Han's suddenly conscious of his hands on Luke's shoulders. Of how close to Luke he's standing and of his fingers gripping hard like he doesn't want to let go. He breaks his hold, too abruptly to seem natural, and sees the surprise flash across Luke's face.
He keeps talking, partly because Luke's actually listening to him and partly to cover up his confusion. "You're tellin' me you found out on Bespin right after Vader carved you up? Then what did you do? Run 'n hide? No - you got yourself fixed up. You made a plan and you worked at it. D'you think I'm not lookin' at you and wondering how you kept it all together?"
Luke glances away for a moment. "I don't know if I did. Not all the time." He looks back at Han. "There were days when I couldn't come to terms with it."
"Sounds about normal to me." If normal is the right word to use for something as extreme as discovering you had Vader for a father. "So when I say I see Vader, I'm seein' the differences between you," he continues. "I'm seeing how you fought him and how you went 'n faced him after everything he did. It's you I'm seeing, not someone in your place! Sure, some things've changed but they're just details. You're still the same person. But now I'm seein' just how strong you are 'cause you're still here after going through that!"
"I didn't do it alone. I-"
"No," Han interrupts. "You went by yourself to find Vader and I'm guessing that's how it's been the whole time."
"Being by myself wasn't the same as being alone. I think you understand that."
It's another one of Luke's cryptic observations, but in this case Han believes he understands. Luke's talking about friendship and support - in part, his motivation for carrying on. But Han thinks there's more to the remark than meets the eye. He thinks Luke's drawing a comparison to their current situation. That they need to remember what they mean to each other and not allow themselves to get lost in stupid misunderstandings and imagined slights. And maybe Luke's pointing out the potential loneliness of carrying on the way they've been going. That they stand to lose too much.
"So what about now?" Han asks, in place of a direct reply. The fact that he's here tonight is enough of an answer to Luke's comment and he doesn't need to add anything to make that clear.
Luke throws him a quizzical look. "What are you asking me? If I still feel I'm not alone? Or if I've come to terms with being Vader's son?"
"Both, I guess," Han says. He fastens his eyes on the scratched, pitted surface of the bar and traces a line of cracks with a fingernail. He can sense that Luke's far from convinced by his answer, but he's not about to offer any other possibilities.
"The short answer's yes, most of the time. But if you're really asking what happens between us, then I don't know."
Startled, Han looks up from the countertop. "What?"
"You said you came to say goodbye. It that still what you want?"
"I never wanted that. I didn't think there was a choice."
Something shifts in Luke's expression and he takes a couple of steps towards Han. "There's always been a choice."
Luke's very close to him again and Han has to fight the urge to back away. It's a contradiction he's well aware of - that the desire to back away stems directly from the desire to move even closer and if he doesn't do one he might well end up doing the other. He forces himself to keep talking instead, even though he's not too sure what Luke's trying to say. "Yeah, well I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"Jumpin' to conclusions. Being an asshole these last few weeks. Not being there when Vader got hold of you," Han explains.
"That's hardly your fault."
"Yeah, well if I'd been there I'd never've let it go. I'd have kept on at you till you told me. Instead you had to deal with it by yourself."
The look Luke's giving him is full of something that Han can't identify. He'd call it affection for want of a better term, but it seems more ambiguous than that. Luke's next words are full of the same indefinable warmth. "For what it's worth, I wish you'd been there too."
It's worth a great deal to Han, but now they've stumbled into an uncomfortable silence where neither of them knows what to say. Part of him wants to simplify things. To set the soul-searching and emotional turmoil aside for something more mundane. He realizes they could both do with a breathing space where they can stand back and take account of everything they've said. But the other part of him can't bring himself to leave. His eyes alight on a row of glasses stacked beneath the bar and he reaches for one before he can change his mind. "Maybe I'll have that drink after all," he says.
There's a fractional pause before Luke responds. "There's stuff in the cooler if you want," he says.
Han nods, wondering why the thought of a drink holds so little appeal. He moves towards the cooler.
"Han."
There's something about the way Luke says his name that triggers a new feeling of alertness inside Han. "Yeah?"
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
The question, so totally unexpected, stops Han in his tracks. He turns round to face Luke, already deriding himself for leaping to conclusions. It's a simple enough question and the answer's surely just as simple. All Luke wants is company in this lonely, abandoned building. And it's their last opportunity to spend any time together.
"Sure."
The single word response is neutral enough to cover all interpretations but it doesn't seem to satisfy Luke. He moves another step closer to Han, his eyes searching Han's face. "You know what I'm asking?"
Han hesitates, feeling like he's reached a boundary that may not be safe to cross. "Depends on whether you want me to stay as a friend or as... somethin' more."
"How about both?"
Han stares back at him, all of a sudden struggling for words. "Okay," he manages.
Luke says nothing but the overhead security light catches his eyes just long enough for Han to see the question forming there. He knows it for what it is and tries to forestall it before Luke's able to voice it. "I want to." He says it as decisively as he can, because whatever Luke thinks is going on here, it has nothing to do with Han forcing himself to do Luke a favor.
"But if I hadn't-"
Han cuts him off. "Don't start questioning it."
A small smile touches the corner of Luke's mouth and flickers briefly in his eyes. "Right," he says.
Another period of silence, but this time it's edged with a tension that hadn't been there before and it forces a niggling doubt into the back of Han's mind. He tells himself to ignore it because how can he start questioning it himself after denying Luke that opportunity? Luke's asked Han to stay and he's agreed, and maybe it shouldn't matter so much that Luke understands his motives for saying yes.
"You wanna get that drink?" Han hears himself ask into the stillness. Even though the last thing he wants to do is sit in the rec room forcing down a drink he'd rather not have, looking over the rim of his glass at Luke and wondering if they're about to make the biggest mistake of their friendship so far. But he asks because he wonders if they should take the time to think. He doubts that either of them are capable of making a rational judgment right now. Luke, after revealing something that Han would've found almost too much to handle, is possibly looking for a way to reconnect with Han and maybe for a few moments where he can forget who he is. As for what Han's looking for - one night with Luke isn't going to come close to being enough.
"No. I'd like to go back to the room."
Luke's reply brings Han's thoughts to an abrupt halt. All but one, and that homes in on the underlying need he hears beneath Luke's measured words, and the instinctive, visceral response that shudders through him. He tries to reply but Luke's not waiting. Han watches him head for the doorway and disappear through it into the dark corridor. He looks down and sees that he's still clutching the empty glass in his hand. He places it on the countertop and follows Luke.
***
The candle's burnt down to almost nothing, sputtering out the last moments of its life by throwing distorted shadows across the room. Luke's standing by the window, motionless, the fading candlelight glinting in his hair.
Han holds his gaze for several long moments. Just a short while ago they were talking about change, and Han's had no time to adjust to the twist in reality that means rethinking all he knows about Vader. Now things are about to change again and whatever happens in the future, their relationship will have altered. It already has. The instant Luke asked him to stay was the instant they stepped onto unfamiliar ground. Han's often seen how change can be a catalyst for further change, and he wonders if Luke's request has its roots in the shift that's already taken place between them.
But now isn't the time to look for reasons, and Han can see in Luke's face that he's reached a place where he's agonized enough and talked enough and now he's waiting for Han to meet him in that same place.
Han says nothing, then turns and closes the door. It's the clearest signal he can possibly give. The electronic lock isn't working but there's an internal steel security bolt. Han slides it home and notices that his hand isn't quite steady.
He moves up to Luke until they're almost touching and Han can feel the heat of Luke's body just a fingertip's breadth away. Luke's giving off an aura of calm but it isn't fooling Han. He sees the rapid throb of a pulse at Luke's temple and hears the slight unevenness of his breathing. There's too much tension, too much unsaid and too much he doesn't know about what Luke wants, but he pushes all that aside and reaches for Luke's shoulders. Pulls him up close and fastens his lips to Luke's.
Maybe he's been expecting Luke to be conflicted. To show some degree of confusion or reluctance even though he's initiated this. There's none of that. No hesitation, no doubt and no holding back. Just an overriding need that transmits itself from Luke to Han in the way Luke opens up to the kiss, his tongue pushing deep into Han's mouth and his hand reaching up to grip Han's head. And it catches Han unawares, shattering the tenuous hold he has on all his feelings for Luke. Amongst them, more deeply concealed but as quick to surface, comes a potent desire.
Even through this tumult of emotion a couple of thoughts take shape in Han's mind. The first is the realization of how close they came to missing this chance for good. But, just like always, they're taking a risk instead of playing it safe, and now Han's losing his head to Luke. His second thought is the recognition of how quickly he's turned from someone who's taken such pains to mask his craving for Luke into someone who's dominated by it. He's unable to tear himself away but equally unable to ward off the urge to touch Luke in ways he's never considered possible. He can't stem the groan from deep in his throat.
Luke's reaction is to break the kiss and step back, something in his gaze anchoring Han in place. Han's eyes lock on Luke as Luke's fingers move to the fastenings of his tunic. His breath catches as Luke pulls the tunic over his head and throws it aside. He's seen Luke undress before, but never like this. And never through eyes that feed on every angle, every plane and every curve of his body.
Luke bends down to pull off his boots, and the moment he stands upright again is the moment Han's able to move. He sheds his clothes automatically, his eyes still fixed on Luke, riding through the surge of arousal when Luke works the buckle of his belt loose. And when Luke's waiting there amidst scattered clothing and discarded weapons Han feels like he's taking his first breath in hours.
To Han, Luke's always had a suggestion of innocence about him. And even after all Luke's done and all he's been through Han's never been able to let that feeling go. Now, as he stands and stares at Luke in the last vestiges of candlelight, he sees a side to Luke that leaves no room for such a sentiment. Because Luke looks far from innocent now, with a focused light in his eyes and a breathless hunger shivering across his skin. There's a flush of heat suffusing Luke's chest and a sheen of sweat from the stifling humidity. The hard heaviness of his erection gives him a raw physicality that sparks a powerful, reflexive response in Han.
It takes Han a second to close the gap between them and to join their mouths together again. He doesn't know how they make it to the bed but somehow they're there, and he pins Luke's body beneath his own and smothers Luke's sharply-drawn breath with a searching kiss.
If they stay like this, wrapped around each other and fuelled by the chaotic force of lust Han knows they'll consume themselves in moments. Maybe it's catharsis Luke wants, but Han thinks this won't be enough. It's impossible to separate his own desires from those of Luke, but he only really knows what he wants. He wants to drive it out of Luke - all the mess and heartache of the past - but he doesn't want it to be over. He wants to make Luke ache and burn. He wants him shaking with need, groaning and desperate. And he wants to watch him come, gasping out Han's name.
He's going on instinct and nothing's telling him to stop. And as much as Han wants to touch him, Luke wants to be touched. He can't discover all there is to discover about Luke in one night, but it's as though Luke's impelling him to try through murmured sighs and the ripples of pleasure Han feels beneath his hands. He builds on Luke's arousal, drawing his palms across Luke's body and brushing his lips over hardened nipples. He kisses him behind his knees and along the soft skin of his inner thighs, slowly and deliberately winding Luke up to a point where he's close to losing control.
Luke knows what Han's going to do. Han can tell by the throaty imprecation that tears itself from Luke's lips and the clutch of his fingers in Han's hair. Han's never heard words like this from Luke before and now he wants to hear them over and over again. He takes Luke in his mouth, suddenly oblivious to the noises Luke's making. He's aware of only one thing now. The salt-sweet slickness of Luke's erection and the fullness and heat between his lips. He uses his tongue, holding down Luke's hips when Luke arches beneath him. Han knows he can't stop. That he's going to take Luke in deep, and he's going to push him on, further and further, until he falls apart.
But Luke's trying to hold back, and the hands tugging at Han's head tell him Luke wants something else. It's an effort for Han to drag himself off Luke, and he's left empty and aching for the taste of him. He's conscious of the blood pounding inside his head, and Luke's erratic breaths show how close Han came to finishing it. He leans in close to catch Luke's words.
He thinks he should've anticipated this. That for Luke to want anything means he's likely to want everything. Han wants it too, with a whole-body craving that's impossible to deny. But a small warning gets through to his befuddled brain that advises restraint. "You know, we've got the whole night. Maybe we oughta-"
"Han..." Luke cuts off his voice of caution, but Han knows it never had much of a chance anyway.
"We need something."
"The locker." Luke's words come out short and terse, but Han knows that's down to the effort to speak rationally.
He slides his feet to the floor and opens the locker door. The candlelight doesn't reach inside and it's difficult to see. He can't find anything in there that's of any use at all. There's just shaving stuff, datacards and Luke's datapad. The last-minute things still waiting to be packed. He pushes them aside and knocks a bottle to the floor. It doesn't break but rolls across the stone tiles, noisy in the silence. It contains the thin liquid soap handed out by Alliance Supplies, and which is no good for anything, let alone-
He feels Luke's hand on his shoulder, and the press of warm fingertips. Then there's Luke's voice, a quiet murmur in his ear. "Let me look."
Han moves aside and sits back on the bed, watching him. He's still wound up, his body too aware of Luke and his breathing not yet evened out. But the interruption gives him a chance to regain control. It also gives him a chance to think. He wonders if they should keep it uncomplicated. But Luke's not one for doing that and neither is Han, and maybe they only have this one night. He doesn't want to consider that. Doesn't want to imagine how it's going to feel to wake up without Luke for an endless succession of days in the future.
"Here." Luke hands him a tatty kitbag, fastened with a metal catch. Han recognizes it because he's got one himself. They were supplied to everyone on Hoth to help counteract the grueling conditions. The catch is stuck, corroded by the perpetual moisture of Oryllin's environment, and he has to tug hard to loosen it. Inside is a familiar-looking jumble of regulation-issue medications. Han knows, with a strange ache inside, that Luke hasn't touched the kitbag since leaving Hoth and he thinks he can guess why. It represents a side to Luke's life that Luke believes he's lost. It has to do with innocence and idealism. With optimism and dreams for a path that changed so much in such a short space of time. But Han's sure there's a part of Luke still holding out a hope for that. It's why he's kept the bag, hidden away in the depths of the locker.
His fingers close around a stoneware jar, and he knows it's this that Luke was thinking of. It's one of the things they used to help withstand the blistering cold of Hoth's climate. They'd smear the contents on exposed skin to protect it from the freezing wind and penetrating chill. Han remembers the smell of it and the greasiness on his face that lingered even after scrubbing. It's perfect for what they need but Han knows there's no way to hide the memories it'll bring back. He wonders if Luke realizes that.
Luke's moved back onto the bed and now he's behind Han, wrapping an arm around Han's waist. The spontaneous warmth of the gesture takes Han by surprise though it shouldn't, because showing affection comes naturally to Luke. It's just that lately it's been missing, at least towards Han. He touches Luke's fingers with his own and tries not to read too much into it.
There are stronger currents of emotion running beneath the affection, and the brush of Luke's lips against the side of Han's face is full of a desire that's still unanswered. Han twists his head round to find Luke's mouth, reaching up with a hand to thread his fingers into Luke's hair. He's fooled himself into thinking he's tamed the well of longing inside but, just like before, Luke proves him wrong.
"Still wanna do this?" Han asks, when they break the kiss. His voice sounds rough and ragged to his own ears.
"Yes."
Taken over again, Han presses Luke down onto the bed, inhaling the contradictory scents of soap and sweat that cling to his body. He reaches for the jar and prizes open the lid. The well-known, pungent aroma drifts from it and images from Hoth flood his mind. The over-ripe smell of the tauntaun pens. Struggling into heavy, outdoor clothing. Tossing a resigned grin at Luke before braving the howling gale of a daytime storm.
For a moment Han thinks he sees a distant look in Luke's eyes, as if his mind is back in the frozen wasteland of the far-flung planet. But the candlelight is failing fast and Han can't know for sure.
The heat of Oryllin has turned the balm into a semi-opaque, viscous liquid that clings to his hand when he scoops it from the jar. He presses a coated finger inside Luke, and the sharp inhalation Luke takes causes his own breath to hitch deep in his throat. He tries to take it slowly but he's up against the urging of his body and Luke's heedless, impetuous side that compels Han to be less than careful.
When he pushes into Luke he knows it's too much, too soon, but Luke's not about to let him go. Han feels Luke's tension permeating into his own body, tightening his muscles in protest. Or maybe it's the other way round. That his anxiety that he might not make this work is smothering them both. Whatever the cause, he has to make things right.
Han grasps Luke's wrists, forcing his arms back onto the bed. He holds him there, pinning him down, his own pulse sounding a hectic rhythm in his head.
"Breathe!" The word snaps out of him, too much like a command but it's too late to take it back.
Sweat has broken out across Luke's brow, and Han watches as it trickles its way slowly into Luke's eyes. With his hands restrained Luke's unable to prevent it and he blinks hard at the salty sting of it. Han leans down and brushes it away with his lips, drifting his mouth slowly across Luke's closed eyelids. It's an act of mute apology but it's also something else. A declaration that needs no words, and Han knows how much he's given away.
The proof is there when Luke's eyes fly open to reveal confusion sliding together with doubt. It makes Han wonder what Luke thought this would mean to him. A few moments of gratification as a way of offering moral support? Some fast and furious attempt to purge the past few months from their lives? Or maybe that Han agreed to this to prove his acceptance of the son of Vader? Whatever Luke first thought, Han knows he sees the reality of it now.
He holds Luke's stare and waits. It probably seems like an ultimatum. That Luke takes him the only way Han's willing or not at all. He doesn't mean it like that - he'll do whatever Luke wants but he's not going to pretend it means less to him than it does. There's no room anymore for hiding the truth. How can there be, after all they've said tonight?
"I didn't know..." Luke's voice is soft, but Han catches beneath it a trace of residual strain.
"So now you do."
Luke tugs a hand free from Han's grip and reaches for Han's face. It's a light touch, but far from casual. There's too much heat in Luke's fingertips, and too much need in the trail they make across Han's lips for it to signify rejection. "You could've told me."
"Didn't know how you'd feel about it," Han mutters.
Luke starts to smile. It begins with the slightest curve of his lips and slowly takes over the whole of his face, transforming him and wiping away the last of the tension. "Haven't you worked it out yet?" he asks. His hand curls around the back of Han's neck and he pulls Han down. "I love you," he says. "And I want you," he breathes against Han's lips, just before Han locks his mouth on Luke's.
It takes just moments for Han to lose himself and somewhere along the way he takes Luke with him. He knows it's working by the sounds Luke makes and the way he tightens his legs around Han's back. And Han's crossed another line. One that was stopping him from saying things he's always wanted to say. He says them now, watching the reactions that chase across Luke's face. And he tells Luke things. About how he wants to make Luke feel and what he wants to do to Luke. Explicit, carnal things that make Luke groan and arch against him.
And finally, when he knows he's reaching the limit of his endurance, he holds Luke's legs, gripping him firmly behind the knees, and drives into him, deep and hard, until Luke's clenching his hands into the sheet beneath him, gasping and incoherent. In the end, Han isn't sure what Luke cries out when he comes, because he's drowning, abruptly and overwhelmingly, in the intensity of his own climax.
He's grounded by the shakiness he feels in Luke's legs and the realization that the deeper darkness means the candle has well and truly died. He also knows he can't do anything but collapse on top of Luke. He plants a kiss on the inside of Luke's thigh and disentangles their bodies, feeling like he's moving under water. Luke's lying there, dazed and immobile, and Han has to shift Luke's arm so he can curl up against Luke's side. He drapes his own arm across Luke and feels Luke's heartbeat thudding in his chest. He can't find the energy to speak and he wonders if he'll ever be able to move again. He lies there, listening to Luke's settling breaths and feeling his eyelids growing heavier. His last conscious thought tells him they've found a way to chase those shadows from Luke's eyes.
***
It's still dark when Han awakes, though the faintest hint of brightening through the shutters tells him dawn isn't far off. It's oppressively humid in the room. And very empty. He pulls himself up to a sitting position and rubs at his face with the heel of a hand, trying to clear the heavy lethargy from his mind. A quick survey of his surroundings reveals Luke's holdall on the floor but no sign of his clothes.
Han drags himself out of bed. He's too hot and his skin is sticky with the residues of sex and sweat. The scent of Luke clings to him, along with the greasy remains of the Hoth balm. The combination is earthy, heady and already addictive. It also tells him that he needs a shower. He wraps the crumpled coverlet around him and sets off down the corridor.
There are puddles of water on the floor of the 'fresher and an overhead faucet drips in one of the shower cubicles. Wherever Luke's vanished to, he's not been gone long. Han turns the water on, as cool as it will go, and lets it blast down over him until he thinks his body has reached a temperature approaching normal. He's forgotten to bring the liquid soap from Luke's locker but there's a half-empty bottle on the floor of the cubicle. When he opens it he realizes it's Luke's. It bears no comparison to the insipid, watery liquid the Alliance hands out to all its recruits. Instead, it's a thick, luxurious gel that seems at odds with Luke's general lack of extravagant possessions. But Han admits that it's kind of silly of him to think this way, especially after his late-night discovery of Luke's hunger for the sensual. He knows now that Luke engages in sex in the same way he engages in most things - with no holds barred - but that's not so unexpected to Han. It's the way Luke approached him last night that's really taken him by surprise. Han prides himself on his blunt, no-nonsense attitude to everything, but he has to admit that where Luke's concerned all that seems to fly out of the window. It was Luke who made the first move while Han just stood there trying to find his tongue. And it was Luke who took the gamble - another one of Han's supposed claims to fame.
He breathes in the aroma of the gel, recalling the traces of its sharp, citrus scent on Luke's skin last night. The memory cuts through the remaining fog in his brain, and for the first time since waking he allows himself to think about today.
Because soon they'll go their separate ways. He's no idea what that means because he hasn't asked Luke. All he knows is that Luke's leaving to help re-build the communities of Kalssos, torn apart by the Empire because of their allegiance to the Jedi of the Old Republic. He doesn't know how long it'll take. Six months? A year? Forever?
And Han will be going to Zinavora to rejoin Leia and Mon Mothma and the rest of the Alliance, and life will go on as usual. Except Han doesn't want 'as usual'. He wants what he had last night. He wants Luke in his life, with all his crazy ideas and uncanny ability to attract trouble. He wants him for all his mixed-up feelings and misplaced guilt. For his openness and empathy, and his idealism that just needs a little time to resurface in full. And he wants him for everything he's seen in the past few hours. For all that passion that left Han reeling and in a stupor for the remainder of the night.
When he turned down the track last night he told himself he should open his eyes. Face reality. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, he should've asked himself why Luke was avoiding him. He should've known there's normally one of two possibilities for behavior like that. Either someone feels too little and they just can't be bothered anymore. Or they feel too much.
He stands under the dryer, the draught raising a shiver across his cooled flesh. Then he grabs the not-so-clean coverlet and trails back to the sleeping quarters.
When he passes through the walkway into the older building it's like walking into a solid wall of heat. Perspiration breaks out across his face and chest and when he reaches Luke's room he's wondering why he bothered to shower in the first place.
The shutters are wide open, letting fresher air into the room along with the pale orange glow of early sunrise. The swarms of dronebugs have disappeared, settling down into their daytime slumber in the shade of the trees. Luke's standing by the window looking fractionally less hot than Han. On the whole heat doesn't bother Luke much but the humidity is trying for all of them, even those who don't come from dry, dusty desert worlds.
"Hey," Han says.
Luke smiles back at him, the breaking light from the sky catching the side of his face. Han wonders how something that makes him feel so good can produce such an ache inside.
"Where d'you go?"
"To the comm room," Luke replies. "I had some transmissions to make. I spoke to Leia."
Han nods. "It'll be difficult from Kalssos."
"Impossible, until their communication system's fixed up. And that's gonna take time."
"At least the Alliance is providing some of the equipment." Han's amazed by how calm he sounds, and how he's managing to have a rational conversation about the place that's going to take Luke away from him. But then Luke moves towards him and his rationality takes a step back.
"And I spoke to the Kalssonian Ambassador."
"Uh huh." Han catches the tiniest hint of citrus in the air. He doesn't know if it's from his own body or from Luke's, but it makes him think of moving his lips across Luke's abdomen. He's going to have association problems with the scent from now on.
"We've worked out a rough plan."
"Yeah?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Sure," Han asserts. He's just not sure he wants to hear.
"No you're not." Luke wraps a hand around Han's neck and brushes a kiss against his mouth. "We've made some changes to the original one."
"Right," Han says. He slides his arms around Luke, holding him in place. "The original what?"
"Plan," Luke grins. "Pay attention."
"'That's what I'm tryin' to do." Han pushes a hand into Luke's hair and kisses him. He doesn't mean for it to be so prolonged or quite so full of all the things he knows he shouldn't say, but it ends up that way regardless. When he finally breaks it he speaks before he can think. "I don't want you to go."
Luke's got both his hands around Han's neck and he's running his fingers through the hair that grazes Han's nape. "I have to. I've made a commitment. I can't break my promise."
"Yeah, I know." Han's got no intention of prolonging the agony with a long list of counter-arguments, even though he has to force himself to refrain from voicing them. "I know it's important to you too," he adds. "'Cause of the Jedi thing."
Luke gives a quiet smile. "Yes, it's important, but so are a lot of other things. I'm not just going to turn my back on everything else. The Kalssonians understand that."
"Is that what you talked to the Ambassador about?"
"Sort of. Mon Mothma's spoken to her a few times already so she knows what the situation is. She told her she's getting hundreds of requests a day from worlds wanting help and she can't promise long-term assistance from the Alliance."
Han frowns. "But you're leaving the Alliance. What's it gotta do with Mon Mothma how long you stay on Kalssos?"
"It was a leave of absence, not a goodbye. I told you that." Luke's lips touch Han's again, briefly.
"I figured it was the same thing," Han says. Belatedly, he picks up on the single incongruous word that Luke's used. "Was?"
Han's com-link starts an insistent beeping from somewhere in the room. He glances around, spotting the crumpled up mound on the floor that constitutes his clothes.
"You gonna get that?" Luke asks, already extricating himself from Han's arms.
"It can wait. I wanna know what's goin' on."
"Mon Mothma contacted me last week. She wanted to know if I'd be willing to undertake the visit to Kalssos as part of an Alliance assignment rather than go unofficially. Then there'd be no need for a leave of absence."
Han tries to ignore the small flurry of hope that's stirring inside him and keeps his questions casual. "Why the change of heart? I thought she said she couldn't swing an official visit?"
"The Kalssonians are offering to send a number of med-droids to Zinavora in exchange for a small Alliance team. Admiral Ackbar's pushing for it because the medical frigates haven't got anywhere near enough droids."
"It's news to me," Han says.
"Because it's still at the negotiating stage. Or it was, before today."
"You spoke to Mon Mothma this morning?"
Luke nods, then leans back against the open window. The smallest of breezes has got up and Han sees it stirring Luke's hair. It's a precursor to the strong, searing winds that blow in daily from the southern quadrant and make the environment of Oryllin even more inhospitable than it already is.
"I knew I wanted to say yes but I didn't know if it was still possible," Luke explains. "The Kalssonians were happy with the exchange but I wasn't sure if they realized it included me."
"They're okay with that?"
"Yeah, more-or-less." Luke pushes away from the window and walks up to Han. His hands come up to frame Han's face. "The Alliance team's gonna stay until the Kalssonians have rebuilt their defenses. It'll probably take a few months. I'll have to stay a bit longer than that though."
"A few months is better 'n a few years," Han mutters. The small flurry of hope has turned to something akin to a snowstorm. He moves his face to kiss one of Luke's palms. "I can't wait that long 'cause I still want the long answer."
Luke gives him a perplexed look. "What long answer?"
"Last night I asked you if you'd come to terms with things. You know..."
Comprehension flashes in Luke's eyes. "Vader, you mean."
"Yeah. You said the short answer was yes. Which means there's a long answer and I know it's not gonna be simple. We've still got a lot to talk about."
"No, it isn't simple. There's so much I'm not even certain about myself."
"Must be some things you're never gonna know. With Vader dead..."
"I know. And I know nothing about the Jedi really. Yoda told me very little and that bothered me at first. Now I think he meant it that way. He wanted me to create my own future, not tie me to the past."
"But what about telling other people about Vader?" Han asks. "You're still gonna be living with secrets if you don't."
Luke nods. "People need to know. Not just because I want to be open about it but because it's important. He killed the Emperor and I want everyone to know that. Not because I expect anyone to see him differently - he still did what he did."
"Just because it's the truth," Han says.
Luke gives another nod, more thoughtful this time. "We need to decide how to do it though. Leia's right about the Alliance and it being early days. And first we need to tell our friends."
"Maybe I can help out," Han suggests.
"You already have." Luke strokes the knuckles of his hand down Han's cheek. "You're the one person I had to tell. It's made a big difference." Luke's eyes take on a faraway look for a moment before he focuses his gaze back on Han. "The hardest thing's been to keep hold of my past. Sometimes I feel... disconnected. Like my life before now hasn't been real. I had this picture in my head for so long. For all the time I was growing up on Tatooine. My father was dead, but he'd been a good man. Someone who would've cared for me if he'd lived. My Aunt and Uncle built that image up for me and Ben added to it, turning my father into a hero of the Republic."
"And now you've gotta reconcile that picture with the real thing."
"I thought... because I'd never known my father it'd help. But it doesn't work like that. Everything's tied up with everything else. It's meant re-examining everything in my life. It's the same for Leia. She's not exactly had good experiences of Vader."
Han grimaces. "I think I'd be in denial."
"I was at first. Or I tried to be. It didn't work because I knew it was true as soon as he told me." He flashes a sudden grin at Han. "Simple tricks and nonsense, you know."
"Hey, I've come a long way since then," Han protests. "You've gotta admit that."
"Oh, I do. And by the way, because I'll be going to Kalssos on Alliance time Mon Mothma wants regular reports."
Han can feel the smile starting on his face. "You'll have to fly back to make 'em then. Communications ain't gonna work from there, like you said."
"No," Luke agrees. "Or she might want to send someone out to check on progress instead."
"Y'know, checkin' on progress is one of my specialties."
"Really?" Luke's hands have moved back to Han's neck. "What are the rest?"
Hans smile widens into a grin. "Gonna take too long to describe 'em all. Dunno how much time you've got."
"I'm not leaving till this evening. I've got to talk to General Madine about getting a squad together."
Han pulls a face. "Lucky you."
"What about you? Aren't you supervising the move out?"
Han grabs hold of one of Luke's wrists, twists it a little to read Luke's chrono, then gives out a short, sharp curse. "I'm s'pposed to be there in 15 minutes. And if I don't turn up an angry Wookiee's gonna come lookin' for me."
"You'd better shut the door then," Luke suggests.
"Uh... why?"
"So he can't find you."
Han swallows. "You mean I'm gonna be late?"
Luke's fingers take a hold of the not-very-secure knot that's keeping the coverlet fastened round Han's waist. "Yeah. Very late."
Han's not about to disagree. Instead he reacts in the only way possible, by winding his arms around Luke and seeking out Luke's mouth with his own. And, just like last night, he manages two clear thoughts before he abandons himself to the kiss. First, that the ground crew will probably end up moving everything out by themselves. And secondly, that Luke's going to take him by surprise all over again.