Fic: "Incident at the Red Rancor" -- Luke/Mara, 1/1
Title: "Incident at the Red Rancor"
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade
Category: Missing scene
Timeframe: During Union
Summary: Mara decides Luke's not forgiven just yet.
A/N: Inspired by the JC's SJRS Union Challenge for April, though I'm not sure this entirely meets the stipulations. I guess it depends on your interpretation of how Luke and Mara explore their new relationship. It is the continuation of a scene in Union, though...
Also posted at the JC but to read here:
Nothing in the universe looked so wonderful at that moment as did the reddening bruise around Luke’s left eye. Mara scowled as she slapped the cold pack into his hand with far more force than necessary.
Luke gave her a look as he lifted it to his eye.
“I still can’t believe you got yourself into a bar brawl,” Mara said.
Luke expression became pained. “I can’t believe we’re still on this topic.”
Mara huffed her exasperation and sat on the armchair by the sofa Luke sat on, propping her boot against the lower side of his chair and crossing her arms as she glaring at him.
“What?” he said, gesturing with the cold pack. “I couldn’t help it. We were attacked.”
“I expect you to handle yourself better,” Mara said acerbically.
He sighed. Mara’s ire boiled a little higher. “Mara,” he said patiently. “I thought we settled this before.”
“I’ve been thinking since,” Mara said darkly.
“What am I supposed to say?” He pressed the cold pack to his eye again and hunkered down on the couch. “I tried to talk them down and got thrown through a window for my troubles.”
“Oh, you tried. Goodness.” Mara stood. “Good to know a Jedi Master such as yourself can try so well he doesn’t see a punch coming in a bar brawl.”
“That’s not fair.” Luke blinked a few times, looked embarrassed, and then muttered, “Maybe I had an ale or two before it all started.”
“An ale or two? You stink like alcohol.” Mara planted her hands on her hips.
Luke gave her a sullen look. “I got knocked to the floor. In a cantina.”
Mara scowled at him. He didn’t seem to realise how plaintive his tone had become. Any other time, she would have been endeared by it. Perhaps. Now she could have strangled him for it.
“Do you have any idea how I felt?” she demanded. “I knew something was going on. Were you being murdered? Were you the subject of some stupid Corellian prank tradition? I had no idea! And you didn’t even contact me! The Force, your comlink, nothing!”
“I was in the middle of a brawl!” His inflection rose.
“Afterwards, you moron!” Mara suppressed a desire to kick the sofa, or more ideally, the fiancé the sofa held. She threw her hands in the air and strode across the room.
“Well, I - ” Luke hesitated. “I didn’t realise you’d sensed anything, I guess. I wasn’t thinking of how the bond works.”
“You thought you’d not mention it all, you mean.” Mara turned an accusatory glare on him.
He moved abortively, a twitch of his fingers. “I wouldn’t have kept it from you.”
“Because you couldn’t.”
“Because I wouldn’t!”
Despite her best efforts, Mara felt her glare soften somewhat. That indignation was too strong to be anything but sincere. “Keep that pack on your eye,” she said with asperity. “Otherwise you won’t be able to see out of it tomorrow.” Another thought occurred to her, and she gave him a hard look. “Unless, of course, you cheat and use the Force to heal a non-debilitating injury.”
“I wouldn’t risk the lecture,” he muttered, pressing the pack to his eye again.
Mara harrumphed. Graciously.
“I suppose this means I won’t be staying over tonight,” Luke said from behind his cold pack.
“Not in my bed.” Mara gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “You can sleep on the sofa.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I don’t trust you not to walk yourself into more trouble between my door and your apartment, O great Jedi Master. Seeing as I have firsthand proof of how well you apparently defend yourself when I’m not there.” She crossed, put a hand to his forehead and the other to his wrist, tipping his head back and removing the cold pack. She put her knee on the sofa so that she could lean across for a better view of his reddened eye. The swelling appeared to have lessened slightly.
“Maybe I had other things on my mind,” Luke said, lifting a hand to walk his fingers up her side suggestively.
Mara nudged his hand away. “You’re heading for a matching black eye.”
“You’re so cute when you’re threatening bodily harm.” He scrunched his face at her.
Mara’s lips threatened to twitch, but she narrowed her eyes instead and pressed his head back more firmly, probed the skin around his eye socket with her finger. His eye was a little bloodshot, but that could have been the alcohol.
“Ow,” Luke complained.
“Don’t be a baby,” Mara said severely. She slapped the cold pack back into his hand and stood. “Put that on your eye and keep it there.”
“Unsympathetic wench,” Luke muttered, obeying.
“Not doing yourself favours,” Mara said over her shoulder, archly. He snorted. She flicked off the light, said, “Get some sleep,” and left the room.
She finished clearing up her dishes from dinner in the kitchen, and got a drink of water. Her fingers shook a little when she touched the glass, and she clenched them in annoyance.
“Wait a minute,” said Luke, from behind her; she started and turned. He stood there, tousled and filthy, still holding the cold pack to his eye though he looked at her narrowly. “You said you wondered if it was a Corellian prank tradition. You knew about Han’s bachelor party thing?”
“I had an inkling,” Mara said, reluctantly.
“Oh, and you get angry at me for not contacting you!” Luke gestured widely with the cold pack. “Might I point out that you said nothing?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise, I gathered. Anyway,” Mara pulled a dish out of the steri-sanitiser and surveyed it critically, “I honestly thought you’d work it out yourself.”
“I knew Han was up to something,” Luke said. “I thought he’d just try to get me drunk.”
Mara lifted an eyebrow. Luke looked and her and shrugged, then shuffled back to the living room. Mara shook her head.
She went back into the darkened room ten minutes later. Luke was asleep, stretched on the couch, not quite snoring. The cold pack was sitting haphazardly across his eye. Mara lifted it away, brushed back the strands of hair that were clinging to his forehead, and pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over him. She eyed his boots with displeasure. They were filthy from the evening’s activity, and she half-suspected he left them on purposely to annoy her. He had a tendency to be amused by her regulation-strict habits of tidiness. She nudged his feet off the sofa. He stirred. She let her hand drift down, fingertips brushed his tunic. His sleeping mind was a warm bundle of feelings at the edge of her awareness, a hum of familiar music. She sent soothing thoughts, and felt him settle back into full sleep.
“Idiot,” she said softly. She straightened, shook her head, and left for her own bed.
[end]
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade
Category: Missing scene
Timeframe: During Union
Summary: Mara decides Luke's not forgiven just yet.
A/N: Inspired by the JC's SJRS Union Challenge for April, though I'm not sure this entirely meets the stipulations. I guess it depends on your interpretation of how Luke and Mara explore their new relationship. It is the continuation of a scene in Union, though...
Also posted at the JC but to read here:
Nothing in the universe looked so wonderful at that moment as did the reddening bruise around Luke’s left eye. Mara scowled as she slapped the cold pack into his hand with far more force than necessary.
Luke gave her a look as he lifted it to his eye.
“I still can’t believe you got yourself into a bar brawl,” Mara said.
Luke expression became pained. “I can’t believe we’re still on this topic.”
Mara huffed her exasperation and sat on the armchair by the sofa Luke sat on, propping her boot against the lower side of his chair and crossing her arms as she glaring at him.
“What?” he said, gesturing with the cold pack. “I couldn’t help it. We were attacked.”
“I expect you to handle yourself better,” Mara said acerbically.
He sighed. Mara’s ire boiled a little higher. “Mara,” he said patiently. “I thought we settled this before.”
“I’ve been thinking since,” Mara said darkly.
“What am I supposed to say?” He pressed the cold pack to his eye again and hunkered down on the couch. “I tried to talk them down and got thrown through a window for my troubles.”
“Oh, you tried. Goodness.” Mara stood. “Good to know a Jedi Master such as yourself can try so well he doesn’t see a punch coming in a bar brawl.”
“That’s not fair.” Luke blinked a few times, looked embarrassed, and then muttered, “Maybe I had an ale or two before it all started.”
“An ale or two? You stink like alcohol.” Mara planted her hands on her hips.
Luke gave her a sullen look. “I got knocked to the floor. In a cantina.”
Mara scowled at him. He didn’t seem to realise how plaintive his tone had become. Any other time, she would have been endeared by it. Perhaps. Now she could have strangled him for it.
“Do you have any idea how I felt?” she demanded. “I knew something was going on. Were you being murdered? Were you the subject of some stupid Corellian prank tradition? I had no idea! And you didn’t even contact me! The Force, your comlink, nothing!”
“I was in the middle of a brawl!” His inflection rose.
“Afterwards, you moron!” Mara suppressed a desire to kick the sofa, or more ideally, the fiancé the sofa held. She threw her hands in the air and strode across the room.
“Well, I - ” Luke hesitated. “I didn’t realise you’d sensed anything, I guess. I wasn’t thinking of how the bond works.”
“You thought you’d not mention it all, you mean.” Mara turned an accusatory glare on him.
He moved abortively, a twitch of his fingers. “I wouldn’t have kept it from you.”
“Because you couldn’t.”
“Because I wouldn’t!”
Despite her best efforts, Mara felt her glare soften somewhat. That indignation was too strong to be anything but sincere. “Keep that pack on your eye,” she said with asperity. “Otherwise you won’t be able to see out of it tomorrow.” Another thought occurred to her, and she gave him a hard look. “Unless, of course, you cheat and use the Force to heal a non-debilitating injury.”
“I wouldn’t risk the lecture,” he muttered, pressing the pack to his eye again.
Mara harrumphed. Graciously.
“I suppose this means I won’t be staying over tonight,” Luke said from behind his cold pack.
“Not in my bed.” Mara gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “You can sleep on the sofa.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I don’t trust you not to walk yourself into more trouble between my door and your apartment, O great Jedi Master. Seeing as I have firsthand proof of how well you apparently defend yourself when I’m not there.” She crossed, put a hand to his forehead and the other to his wrist, tipping his head back and removing the cold pack. She put her knee on the sofa so that she could lean across for a better view of his reddened eye. The swelling appeared to have lessened slightly.
“Maybe I had other things on my mind,” Luke said, lifting a hand to walk his fingers up her side suggestively.
Mara nudged his hand away. “You’re heading for a matching black eye.”
“You’re so cute when you’re threatening bodily harm.” He scrunched his face at her.
Mara’s lips threatened to twitch, but she narrowed her eyes instead and pressed his head back more firmly, probed the skin around his eye socket with her finger. His eye was a little bloodshot, but that could have been the alcohol.
“Ow,” Luke complained.
“Don’t be a baby,” Mara said severely. She slapped the cold pack back into his hand and stood. “Put that on your eye and keep it there.”
“Unsympathetic wench,” Luke muttered, obeying.
“Not doing yourself favours,” Mara said over her shoulder, archly. He snorted. She flicked off the light, said, “Get some sleep,” and left the room.
She finished clearing up her dishes from dinner in the kitchen, and got a drink of water. Her fingers shook a little when she touched the glass, and she clenched them in annoyance.
“Wait a minute,” said Luke, from behind her; she started and turned. He stood there, tousled and filthy, still holding the cold pack to his eye though he looked at her narrowly. “You said you wondered if it was a Corellian prank tradition. You knew about Han’s bachelor party thing?”
“I had an inkling,” Mara said, reluctantly.
“Oh, and you get angry at me for not contacting you!” Luke gestured widely with the cold pack. “Might I point out that you said nothing?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise, I gathered. Anyway,” Mara pulled a dish out of the steri-sanitiser and surveyed it critically, “I honestly thought you’d work it out yourself.”
“I knew Han was up to something,” Luke said. “I thought he’d just try to get me drunk.”
Mara lifted an eyebrow. Luke looked and her and shrugged, then shuffled back to the living room. Mara shook her head.
She went back into the darkened room ten minutes later. Luke was asleep, stretched on the couch, not quite snoring. The cold pack was sitting haphazardly across his eye. Mara lifted it away, brushed back the strands of hair that were clinging to his forehead, and pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over him. She eyed his boots with displeasure. They were filthy from the evening’s activity, and she half-suspected he left them on purposely to annoy her. He had a tendency to be amused by her regulation-strict habits of tidiness. She nudged his feet off the sofa. He stirred. She let her hand drift down, fingertips brushed his tunic. His sleeping mind was a warm bundle of feelings at the edge of her awareness, a hum of familiar music. She sent soothing thoughts, and felt him settle back into full sleep.
“Idiot,” she said softly. She straightened, shook her head, and left for her own bed.
[end]