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dazaih · 24 hours ago

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wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can read previous chapters here

chapter thirteen -> the game

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

warnings: making out in public, drinking, smoking

a/n: i’m SO sorry that this took so long! i hope the lengthier chapter can compensate for the wait <3

You had a vague recollection of waking up on the couch, nearly on top of Luke as his arms were wrapped around you. Another movie had come on automatically after the last one ended, and he was tiredly watching it. When he noticed you were awake, he gave you a sleepy smile and caressed your cheek.

“You could’ve gone home,” you whispered, voice weighed down by your own exhaustion.

“You must not realize how much I enjoy holding you,” he said softly, emphasizing his point by squeezing you a little. You made a noise of surprise and he laughed.

“Did Han come home?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned.

“Not yet. I’m sorry.”

“Chewie?”

“He got back about an hour ago but didn’t want to wake you up. He seemed pretty tired.”

You sighed, your worry returning as you began to wake up a little more. Luke must have sensed this, because he grabbed the remote and turned the television off, sitting up a little.

“It’s late. Let’s get you to bed,” he decided, and he sat up, causing your position to shift until you were awkwardly seated on his lap.

“Do you wanna spend the night?” you offered nervously, knowing that it was the polite thing to do. You were surprised when he frowned.

“You need to sleep,” he said quietly, looking down and avoiding your eyes.

You didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when you realized that he was hesitant because he didn’t want to wake you up with his nightmares, you couldn’t stop yourself from suddenly wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder. He jumped a little, surprised by the sudden embrace, but held you all the same.

“I like spending the night with you,” you told him, holding him tight, “I told you before. The nightmares don’t make a difference.”

You felt him release a shaky exhale, and he gently pulled back to look you in the eye.

“If you’re sure it’s alright,” he said quietly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Of course it’s alright. I’d love for you to stay over. I promise.”

He gave you a small smile and then rose from the couch, gently guiding you to your bedroom by placing a hand on your lower back. When you entered your room, he shrugged off his sweatshirt and remained only in his pants.

“I can get you something to sleep in,” you offered, eyes trailing over his abdomen.

“I can sleep like this. As long as you don’t mind,” he replied, eyebrow raised at your shameless staring.

“I don’t mind at all.”

He giggled and turned to make your bed for you as you changed into your own pajamas. You wouldn’t have minded if he had stolen a glance, but being as respectful as he was, he did no such thing. He lifted the covers for you when you appeared into his view again, crawling under them after you. He turned off your bedside lamp, and the room was engulfed in darkness. You realized then that you’d shut the door all the way—you often did, with the exception of this week—and you sighed. You supposed you really shouldn’t stay up any later to listen for Han to come home anyway.

“Hey,” Luke said softly, turning to face you, “I know it’s easier said than done, and that I’m the last person who should be dishing out this kind of advice, but try to get some sleep, okay? And wake me up if you need anything.”

You stared into his eyes, honest and bright even at such a late hour, and leaned forward to press a small kiss to his lips. You felt him smile against you.

“Thank you,” you told him sincerely, closing your eyes, “You’re lovely.”

He chuckled a little at your sleepy compliment, taking you into his arms and holding you as you finally surrendered yourself to slumber.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Luke had class earlier than you did that morning, but he woke you up to give you a goodbye kiss and tell you that he’d see you at his game tomorrow. You tiredly nodded and fell back asleep, and when you woke up again, he was gone.

You didn’t hear Han come home last night, but his door was closed, so he must have made it back. His shoes were sitting next to the front door as well. You relaxed a little, glad that he’d made it through another night.

Class dragged on as usual, and when you got home, Han and Chewie were nowhere to be found. You sighed. For the first time since you’d known them, it seemed that you’d be spending a Friday night alone.

You ended up having a fairly productive evening. You managed to clean your room, the kitchen, living room, and bathroom, and you took quite a long, soothing shower as well. Chewie did end up getting home at a fairly reasonable time that evening, so the two of you shared a pizza and you made him endure more reality television, which you thought might have secretly been his guilty pleasure. You still didn’t see Han, but you tried not to worry. As long as his boots showed up next to the door each morning, you knew he was at least alive. You really hoped all of this would be ending soon.

The next day, you had to put a fair amount of mental energy into preparing for Luke’s game. You were ridiculously nervous, because he had given you a specific ticket with a specific seat attached to it. For most games, you would have had free admission into the student section on account of going to school there. However, given that it was a playoff game, students had to pay just like everyone else. You wondered if your seats were going to be incredibly close to the field, considering they had initially been reserved for his family. You were also curious about the mention of his aunt being there. You would presumably have to meet her and sit with her for the entire game. You were worried about making a bad impression on her, and you were a bit of a nervous wreck when you got ready that evening.

You showered and put on a sweatshirt with your school’s logo on it, paired with faded out jeans, and you tried to make it look a little more like an outfit with the addition of your combat boots. You wore your own jacket because Han’s all reeked of cigarettes, and you really didn’t want to show up smelling like you’d just smoked before walking in. You looked in the mirror and sighed, because you worried that if his teammates saw you, they’d immediately know that you weren’t in the same tax bracket as them. You tried to will yourself not to care, but you didn’t want to disappoint Luke or embarrass him in any way.

At last, you were ready. The game was going to be at seven, because apparently that’s when college soccer got the most airtime on television. The fact that Luke’s performance was going to be televised—it often was, but still—made you nervous for him.

You had plenty of time to walk to the stadium and find your seat, which you had to do because Han had, of course, taken the van. When you got there, your nerves were further heightened by the sheer amount of people who had already arrived. You supposed it was a playoff game, and that your school was ranked top in the nation, and that Luke himself was arguably one of the most talented players in the sport—but still, you weren’t expecting college soccer to attract so much attention.

When you finally found your seat, you were a little caught off guard. Only then did you realize that these tickets had been meant specifically for Anakin and Padme, as they had located you in a special visitors’ section of the stadium. You were level with the midfield, and this seemed like the best view. There were individual seats with cushions, and you silently thanked the universe for saving your back from the typical cold steel of a sports venue.

As you approached your section, you immediately noticed a woman decked out in full fan gear sitting at the edge of her seat already. Though she bore no passing resemblance to Luke, you knew immediately that this had to be the aunt he was talking about. Your suspicions were confirmed when you looked down at your ticket and saw that you were to be seated directly next to her. She was incredibly focused on the field, despite nothing happening yet. She was beautiful, just like everyone in the immediate circle of the Skywalkers, and you felt a little insecure, but decided to introduce yourself anyway as you sat down.

“Excuse me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady so you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, “Are you Luke’s aunt?”

She seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in, and regarded you with suspicion for a moment—likely thinking you were a fan of some kind here to try to find Anakin Skywalker at his son’s game—before fixing you with a wide smile.

“Is that what he said?” she replied, genuine happiness in her tone, “I’ve always wondered how he introduces me to other people. That’s sweet. You must be the friend I’m sitting with today.”

“That’s me,” you confirmed, a little confused, and you shook her outstretched hand. Something about her mannerisms reminded you of Anakin.

“I’m Ahsoka,” she told you, still grinning, “Take a seat! Things should be getting started soon.”

You did as she said, and as you waited for the game to begin, the two of you made small talk. She was much less intimidating than Anakin once you started conversing with her, and while she seemed to possess his confidence, she was a bit more gentle and easygoing. She told you that she wasn’t related to Anakin biologically, but that she’d been close with him since before the twins were born, and that after he’d made his Hollywood debut, he’d been sure to keep her by his side.

“Anakin was really young when he served in the military,” she explained, “He came along with the recruiters who showed up at my high school. I was physically fit and didn’t have many other options when it came to getting out of town. It was my best choice. Anakin was already making a name for himself, and he had personal favor from a Lieutenant General. I looked up to him, and he became a sort of older brother to me.”

“So you served together?” you asked, trying to follow along with the very complex tale of how Anakin Skywalker went from a young man in the military to an outspoken critic of it, and then to a movie star. You supposed that it wasn’t all that unusual for veterans to become actors—Mel Brooks, Christopher Lee, Clint Eastwood, and several others had done it—but it was more difficult to wrap your head around in Anakin’s case, seeing as he’d become so publicly critical of the military in the years after he served. You were somewhat familiar with his unique circumstances—plenty of people were, and it was a large part of his charm—but you didn’t know all of the details.

“For two years,” she said, “Did you ever read his book? Or watch his movie?”

“No,” you confessed, “I never got around to it. And now that I know the twins, it just feels weird, I guess. I don’t wanna be invasive.”

She stared at you for a second before laughing, and you briefly wondered if you’d said something wrong.

“That’s sweet of you,” she said, still chuckling, “But there’s nothing about the twins in it other than the fact that they were born. He’s always been pretty protective over their privacy.”

You supposed that made sense, considering the general population didn’t seem to know the intimate details of Luke’s life.

“That’s good,” you replied, trying to seem like you were well-versed in the world of the Skywalkers. She just grinned at you again and resumed asking questions about your life. You knew that you were being studied, and you hoped that your answers were okay and that your conversational skills were up to par.

“Have you ever seen him play before?” she asked you, and you could tell that she was pretty serious about sports. You were nervous to tell her no, but if you lied, you had a feeling she’d know.

“No,” you mumbled sheepishly, shifting in your seat a little, “He said he was scared to invite me until now, and I didn’t wanna just show up.”

“Because it felt invasive?” she teased, eyebrow raised. You blushed.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Well, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. He’s up for the Hermann Trophy, you know.”

She was so proud of him. It was sweet. The two of you continued to chat some more as you anticipated the start of the game. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait for too much longer. Ahsoka suddenly stood, and then you saw the team run out. You recognized Luke, of course, as well as Biggs, Elias, and a couple of others, but the team looked much larger here than it had in the bar.

Apparently, kick-off was decided by a coin toss. You hadn’t watched a lot of soccer, so you didn’t know that, but when Luke and a man you assumed was the captain of the other team stepped up to stand directly in front of each other, you quickly realized what was going on. Admittedly, you weren’t that interested in the coin toss. You were more focused on how good he looked in his uniform.

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, but somehow his jersey was more obscene than his bare chest. The fabric stretched around his upper body in a way that made your mouth run dry, and the trim of the short sleeves accentuated his biceps. What really had your head spinning, however, was the fit of his shorts. They were looser than his jersey, but his thighs were so toned that the material couldn’t help but hug his quads.

You heard Ahsoka swear under her breath, and only then did you snap out of your trance and realize that he’d lost the coin toss. He didn’t seem discouraged, however, and just shook the other captain’s hand with a wide smile. And then, the game began.

Ahsoka tried to explain all of the terminology to you as you struggled to keep up, the speed at which the players were moving making it difficult to see every pass or steal. The opposing team currently had the ball, but you all seemed to have a pretty good midfield and defense. Elias was actually the goalie, and while you found him difficult to like as a person, he was clearly essential to the team.

You didn’t have to wait long to see Luke shine. The ball was stolen back, and in an instant, the entire team was working tirelessly to get it to Luke. Ahsoka explained that he was their forward striker, and therefore would score most of the goals. Biggs and a man you hadn’t met yet were in the front with him, and in a move so quick you could barely process it, Luke was sending the ball flying into the goal.

Ahsoka grabbed your arm and pulled you up to stand with her, arm thrown around your shoulders as she yelled excitedly.

“Fucking incredible. Not even fifteen minutes in.”

Luke must have been pretty happy with his goal as well, because even from here you could see his bright smile. He was back in action immediately though, and as the game progressed, you quickly realized why he was up for the Hermann.

First of all, he seemed to know where the ball would end up before it ever got there. As you studied him, you noticed that he was constantly surveying the field, his focus somehow in multiple places at once as he watched the plays of his teammates to determine exactly where he needed to be at exactly the right time.

Secondly, he never shot with only his dominant foot. He appeared to be able to shoot from all parts of both of his feet, allowing him to hit the ball into the smallest openings from various directions. This also allowed him to confuse the defenders he was up against.

Speaking of defense, as the game picked up, you honestly began to feel bad for the defenders on the other team. Whenever one of the forwards missed a shot, another one was right there for the rebound. It seemed that every time the goalie defended against Luke, Biggs or the other player whose name you didn’t know would appear out of thin air to follow up. The three of them almost seemed to have some sort of psychic connection, because with one look, they were able to communicate their next move. They were truly a force to be reckoned with.

A lot of this technical information did, of course, come from Ahsoka, who would excitedly explain every observation you made. Despite knowing very little about the sport, you began thinking out loud as you watched, and she was delighted to tell you exactly why what you saw Luke and his teammates doing was so effective. You were happy to indulge her, and she was happy that you cared enough to listen. Overall, it was a pretty entertaining viewing experience with her by your side.

By the point of halftime, Luke and his teammates were dripping with sweat. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, and his biceps were glistening under the harsh stadium lights. He looked ethereal.

“You’re looking at the field pretty intensely for it to be halftime,” Ahsoka noted, and your face flushed when you realized that she was teasing you.

“I’m just in awe, I guess,” you replied sheepishly, sighing when Luke disappeared from view as he presumably went to get water from the sidelines.

“He’s remarkable,” she agreed, “Anakin thinks he should try to go professional.”

“He probably could. He’s really talented,” you said.

“I don’t think he wants to. He’s pretty focused on grad school.”

You didn’t know what Luke’s plans were for after graduation. Selfishly, you hated thinking about it. Your relationship—or the imitation of one, you supposed—would surely end once your university years were over, as he wasn’t actually your boyfriend. You were startled by this train of thought, because you shouldn’t even be thinking about long-term scenarios with him in the first place, but it was hard. The more you learned about him, the more you adored him. You felt as if you were nearing a ledge, and you were about to fall for him completely.

“You okay?”

Ahsoka’s voice broke you out of your spiral, and you did your best to give her a smile that you were sure was probably awkward.

“Sorry,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Grad school is scary to think about.”

She nodded, but she seemed to be reading into it more than you would’ve liked. She was scarily perceptive, and you began to worry that Luke had inherited this trait from her. You hoped he wasn’t this thoughtful about your actions and body language, because if he was, then he had to know that your heart belonged to him already.

“Oh, they’re about to start again!” she announced, grabbing your arm excitedly, “Things should really pick up now.”

You were confused, because the game had already seemed intense so far. However, when you saw how determined the other team looked, you knew that they were feeling the pressure. They were behind, and if they wanted to catch up, their defense would need to swarm Luke at every possible opportunity. You worried for his safety a little, but Ahsoka seemed to be ecstatic.

You learned why rather quickly. As the opposing team’s defense and midfield began to really focus, Luke’s efforts only doubled. Despite the obvious exhaustion he had to have been experiencing from the first half of the game, he was faster than ever. He wasn’t aggressive, per se, but he certainly wasn’t about to let his opponents get a leg up on him.

Despite having seen him in a fight, you had never viewed Luke as anything other than gentle. Now, however, he could be considered fierce. You realized then that Luke possessed such prowess and competitiveness this entire time, and yet, he still chose to be kind and tranquil in his everyday life. Perhaps coming to see him play was a bad idea, because you were finding him so ridiculously endearing that you could hardly stand it.

At one point, the opposing team’s defense had overwhelmed Biggs. You watched Luke nod at him, and then, in what seemed like a severe mistake at first, Biggs kicked the ball almost straight up into the air. Luke appeared to smile at him approvingly before jumping so high that your mouth fell open in shock, and in one swift move, butted the ball with his head. His ability to direct it straight towards the third forward was impressive. As the defense flooded him, he passed it back to Biggs, who sent it flying back to Luke. Without even having to reposition himself, Luke took the shot and scored into the very top corner of the net.

Ahsoka didn’t have to pull you up that time for you to know that you should stand and cheer, and you were shouting so loudly that you could hardly believe that those sounds were coming from you. She grinned widely at you, and you were too excited to be embarrassed by the fact that you were acting so chaotically in front of Luke’s aunt.

When the timer finally ran out, you stood and cheered again, as did the entire half of your stadium. You all had won the game, and while soccer was a low-scoring sport, Luke had been the one to get the most goals. This was not all that surprising, given the position he played, but the sheer amount of shots he was able to take—even when they were blocked—was impressive. He was certainly a powerhouse.

“He’s gonna win the Hermann,” Ahsoka told you, hands on her hips as you both stood and watched the team embrace each other excitedly. It was sweet.

“He looks like he could play another game,” you noted, mouth slightly agape as you studied his body language from afar.

“Oh, for sure,” she agreed, giggling, “His endurance is insane. Even when he was younger, I could hardly keep up with him. He always wanted to play when I babysat the twins, but eventually he got so good that I started to feel a little humiliated by the fact that a twelve year old boy was smoking me so often in my own sport. I used to be pretty good, too.”

You had assumed that Ahsoka had played soccer herself at some point, because her familiarity with the sport seemed to run pretty deep. You also had no problem believing that she was a solid player herself, as her biceps were one of the first things you noticed about her appearance, and to have been personally praised by Anakin prior to her enlistment, her physical abilities must have been pretty impressive.

The two of you chatted a little more, but as time continued to pass and the team vanished into the locker room, the stadium was beginning to clear out. When Ahsoka stood, you assumed that this was probably your sign to exit. You followed her to the stairs as she went to stand near the edge of the field, behind a steel fence that separated the spectators from the players. You weren’t really sure what you were supposed to do now.

“Well,” you said awkwardly, giving her the most polite smile you could muster, “It was really nice meeting you. And getting to see Luke play was great too. Thanks for having the patience to explain everything to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, and a small smirk played at her lips. You must have said something stupid.

“Thanks for listening to me ramble,” she replied coolly, “You’re not trying to leave before Luke gets out of the locker room, are you?”

“Did he want me to wait?” you stuttered, unable to comprehend the idea that Luke would want to take the time to see you after such an intense game. He and his friends were probably going to go out to celebrate their win anyway, and you didn’t want to intrude on what little time he and Ahsoka would have to talk.

She rolled her eyes at you in a way that almost looked fond.

“I think he’ll be pretty disappointed if he doesn’t get to see you,” she told you, grinning.

You didn’t have time to reply before the first few players startled to trickle out of the locker room. A couple of cheerleaders exited from the women’s section, and you were a little frustrated with yourself for searching for Marie.

“A lot of schools don’t have their cheerleaders go to soccer matches,” Ahsoka mused, sharing all of her soccer related knowledge with you while she remained oblivious to your anxieties.

You only nodded, and stood nervously beside of her as you began to overthink whether or not Luke would really want you to wait for him. You felt like you were invading his space with not only his friends, but his family as well, and the last thing you wanted was to seem overbearing and for him to call off your whole facade as a result.

Your overthinking was cut short by the man himself, who walked out of the locker room surrounded by his teammates. He wore jeans—something you weren’t used to seeing him in—and a nice, navy sweatshirt that had been embroidered with your school’s logo. He also wore his beat up converse, and he looked like he’d showered. He looked casual, but definitely like he was planning on going somewhere after this.

He was laughing with Biggs at his side and a few other men you didn’t know, and he seemed pretty happy. He should be. He’d played one impressive game.

“Luke!”

Ahsoka’s shout broke you out of your trance, and your face flushed when you noticed her side-eyeing you with a small smirk on her face. She was a nice woman, but to be read so openly was scary.

Luke’s head snapped up immediately, and upon seeing his aunt, his grin widened. He slapped Biggs on the back and jogged towards the two of you, his duffel bag swinging from his shoulder. He looked beautiful.

He dropped his bag when he reached you, and Ahsoka immediately pulled him into a hug and ruffled his hair.

“You’re a fucking machine,” she told him, pulling back while holding him in place with her hands on his shoulders. Her approval must have made him happy, because he was beaming at her.

“Wouldn’t be half as good without your help,” he replied politely.

Despite his occasional jokes, he was impressively humble about his feats.

“So modest,” she teased, turning to you and adding, “He doesn’t get that from his father.”

Luke turned to look at you at the same time that she did, and his eyes grew impossibly brighter, as did his smile. He immediately enveloped you in a hug, squeezing you so tight that your ribs ached a little. You weren’t complaining though. He placed his hand on the back of your head to bring you even closer to him, your face now buried in the crook of his neck. He had never hugged you with this much excitement before.

You didn’t even want to see Ahsoka’s face.

Finally, he pulled away, but his hands dropped to your waist. You were mortified to be this intimate with him in front of his aunt, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“I’m so glad you made it,” he said, and he seemed so genuinely happy that you wanted to cry. He was too sweet.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you replied, smiling shyly at him. His face lit up even more, and you heard laughter behind you.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, now only lightly touching your arm, “It means a lot that you’re here.”

“I had a lot of fun,” you assured him, “Ahsoka explained everything to me, so I was able to keep up.”

Luke’s eyes flickered over to his aunt, and he gave her a grateful smile. She just nodded, smirking at him.

“I enjoyed the company,” she said, and you relaxed a little at the knowledge that she didn’t loathe your time together.

His teammates walked by you then, hollering at him to get his attention. Marie and a few other cheerleaders were among them.

“We’re heading to the bar,” Biggs told him, clasping his shoulder, “Hey, Ms. Tano.”

“Biggs,” she replied with a smile, nodding in acknowledgment, “Nice game today, kid.”

“Thank you,” he said, “But Luke was the real star, wasn’t he?”

He turned to you when he said it, and now everyone’s eyes were on you except for Luke’s, who was staring at his shoes and blushing a little, a sheepish smile on his face.

“He’s phenomenal,” you agreed, able to articulate your admiration for Luke more easily than anything else this evening, “I could watch him play all day.”

You hadn’t meant for it to sound as flirtatious as it did, but Luke’s head immediately snapped up, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Biggs cackled.

“How about that, Luke? I told you not to be nervous,” Biggs teased, slapping him across the back. You winced every time they did that to each other, but they were probably so strong that it didn’t hurt very much—or at least they pretended like it didn’t.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Luke mumbled, nudging his friend forward a little, trying to get him to leave. You giggled at the interaction.

Biggs and the rest of his teammates departed, and Ahsoka stood grinning at Luke’s flustered expression.

“Your father said I should make sure to embarrass you,” she teased, “But it looks like your friends have that under control.”

“He said that?” Luke all but gasped, looking annoyed in a way that you adored, mumbling, “You guys are all dicks.”

Ahsoka snorted and threw an arm around him, pulling him in for a side hug. He pretended to be irritated about it, but he indulged her anyway.

“You make it easy,” she chuckled, and he rolled his eyes fondly at her, “Are you gonna try to make it to Leia’s show?”

“I was planning on it,” he said, “Are you?”

“My return flight is at midnight, so no,” she winced, “I’m also waiting for her to play at a venue that isn’t just a bunch of drunk college kids.”

“She’ll get there,” he replied, giggling, “Thanks for making time to come tonight. I’ve missed you.”

You suddenly felt like you were intruding, so you strayed a little closer to the fence and pretended to be busy on your phone. You let them say their goodbyes in private, giving them space. After a few minutes, they both appeared at your side, and, to your surprise, Ahsoka gave you a small hug.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” she told you, smiling, “Make sure he behaves for the remainder of the evening.”

Luke looked slightly affronted, but said nothing. You giggled.

“Thanks for teaching me everything. I would’ve been really confused without your help,” you replied, adding, “And of course. I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

She grinned at you, hugged Luke one more time and told him that she was proud of him, and then you both walked her to her Uber. She waved as the car pulled out, leaving you and Luke standing awkwardly in front of the now sparse parking lot.

“Well,” you said, “I don’t wanna keep you from meeting up with your team—“

You were cut off by your breath catching in your throat, Luke having pulled you into another hug. Something about this one felt even more intimate than the last, and your heart ached with how much you relished in his affection.

“I was really worried I’d fuck something up in front of you tonight. I haven’t been that nervous before a game in a long time,” he admitted, running his fingers through the back of your hair.

“Why?” you asked, pulling away only enough to look up at him. He smiled at you in a way that was almost a little sad.

“You make me nervous,” he confessed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. Before you could press him any further, he was taking your hand in his own, leading you across the street.

“Where are we going?” you asked, stumbling a little as you tried to gauge which direction he was going in.

“I need to drop my stuff off at my apartment, and then we can go downtown, if that’s alright with you. Do you have plans tonight?” he replied, smiling at you over his shoulder.

“No,” you mumbled, remembering that Han and Chewie were unlikely to be home. Luke seemed to catch your shift in mood, because suddenly he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and pulled you to the side.

“Hey,” he said softly, caressing your cheek, “I’m sorry. I was trying to be suave. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you didn’t have plans because—“

“That’s not it at all,” you replied, stifling your amusement at his attentiveness, “I just usually do have plans on Saturday, and I had to walk here because Han has the car, and I didn’t see Chewie all day before I left. I’m just a little bummed. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, still gently touching your face, “It’s alright to be upset about that.”

“I guess,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes, “But it’s a good night for you. I don’t wanna ruin the mood or make you feel obligated to hang out with me because of that stuff.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” he told you seriously, lifting your chin with his finger to have you look at him again, “And don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.“

And with your two closest friends being so distant lately, those words meant more to you than he could possibly imagine.

“Really?” you asked, and he smiled at you as if he did understand how much you needed to hear that. Somehow, that made it feel even more special.

“Of course,” he replied softly, “How about this: you and I go scarf down some Thai food really quickly, and then book it to Leia’s show. You can shoot Han and Chewie a text letting them know that we’ll be there, but if they don’t come, we can still have a good night, yeah? We can get stupidly drunk, inevitably get hungry again at an ungodly hour, get some really unhealthy takeout, and go back to my place. And you can spend the night. If you want.”

Your mood instantly brightened. It must have shown on your face, because Luke was grinning widely at you now.

“That sounds great,” you admitted, and with that, he was once again intertwining your fingers and leading you to down the sidewalk, occasionally stealing sideways glances at you and smiling.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Thai food had been wonderful. Leia apparently played the last set tonight, so you didn’t have to eat as fast as you originally thought. When you arrived at the bar, she was nowhere to be seen, and Luke explained that she and the band were probably smoking out back before they played. The two of you both got doubles, because you’d agreed to get drunk already, and you wanted to celebrate his win with him today. His teammates found you rather quickly, but they were all in good spirits.

You danced with him a little, not having taken a sip of your drink yet. He looked contemplative, so you turned to face him and looped your arms around his neck. He smiled.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, still swaying along to the music.

“I already really want to kiss you,” he admitted, looking a bit shy, “And I don’t wanna get drunk without talking about what you’re comfortable with first.”

You were taken aback by his confession, and you couldn’t help but wonder about whether or not there were any other implications behind his words. You cocked your head at him.

“What are you comfortable with?” you asked.

“I don’t want to be drunk the first time we fuck,” he confessed sheepishly, and you nearly passed out right there. The fact that he even wanted to go that far with you at all was surprising, but knowing that he wanted to be sober for it felt so sweet and so characteristic of him. You were overcome by the urge to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, but you wanted to let him finish talking first.

“I’m fine with anything else though. But that’s just something I want to be sober for. If that’s okay,” he added, nervously biting his bottom lip. He was adorable.

“That’s obviously okay,” you chuckled, “I’m fine with everything except fucking too then.”

He was blushing, despite having been the one to bring it up. Luke was typically the more forward of the two of you, but he only had that kind of confidence after consistently checking to make sure you were on board. Since you had both planned to get drunk together tonight, you supposed that discussing boundaries beforehand was a wise move.

“And we obviously don’t have to do anything at all,” he added, “Sorry if I’m being awkward. I don’t want you to think that I only suggested getting drunk because I wanted to get in your pants or something, and I just need to make sure that you know that there’s never any pressure.”

“I would never think that about you,” you told him honestly, your voice soft as you met his sincere stare, “And it’s okay if it feels a little awkward sometimes. I think it’s really sweet that you always make sure I’m okay with things before we do them.”

“That’s the bare minimum—“

Before he could continue, Elias appeared, a couple of Luke’s teammates behind him.

“You both look far too serious right now,” he declared, his hands on Luke—as they often were.

“We’re just talking,” Luke replied, a little irritated.

“You should be taking shots, Luke. You were—what is it you said? Phenomenal?”

He turned to you at the last part, and you realized then that he’d either heard you say that earlier or that Biggs had told him. You wouldn’t let him embarrass you, though, and you only gave him a mildly smug look before turning your focus back to Luke.

“Yeah, something like that,” you said lowly, hand cupping his cheek and making him look at you, “Incredible also works. Or masterful. Or ridiculously talented. Or—“

Luke cut you off by bursting into a fit of embarrassed giggles, his cheeks red and smile wide as he stared at the ground to avoid your eyes. The sound hit you like a breath of fresh air, and you nudged his face a little to bring his gaze back up to yours. He smiled softly at you. You hoped he felt the warmth of your admiration for him.

“That’s disgusting,” Elias deadpanned, and then, to your surprise, got in the middle of the two of you and slung his arms around both of your shoulders, “This round’s on me.”

Luke apparently didn’t care very much for Elias touching you, and as you walked over to the bar, he immediately shrugged tne other man off, turned around, and placed his hand on your lower back. Elias seemed to get the hint, letting go of your shoulders, but not without shooting Luke a shit-eating grin.

He ordered rum for the group time, and when the glasses appeared before you, you and Luke shared a look as you seemed to recall the same memory of him pouring liquor into your mouth. You barely knew him then. He smiled at you knowingly, but the moment dissipated when Elias handed everyone their shots. He insisted that you all clink your glasses together and then tap the bottom on the bar before drinking, and you followed suit as all of the athletes around you tossed the liquor into the back of their throats. It burned, but you managed to remain relatively nonreactive. You chased the bitterness away with the drink in your hand that you’d hardly touched, and Luke mimicked you. You stood idly at the bar, listening to Luke’s friends talk by his side and working on finishing your mixed drink. Luke’s hand was around your waist, fingers absentmindedly playing with one of your belt loops as he tried to remain engaged in the conversation.

“Oh, fuck,” Elias said suddenly, wiping the excess alcohol from the corner of his mouth, “Biggs just got out of the bathroom. We have to do another round with him here.”

You winced at the thought of taking another shot so soon. Luke rolled his eyes.

“You’re gonna be too fucked up to take care of yourself later if you keep going at this rate,” he reprimanded.

“Alright, mom,” Elias snorted, and Luke looked so genuinely offended for a second that you couldn’t help but laugh. His head snapped to look at you, and he tried to glare for a moment before his resolve crumbled and he simply smiled.

“Did you guys already do a round?” Biggs asked, suddenly appearing in the small gaggle of Luke’s teammates.

“Yes, but we’re about to do another one. Just for you,” Elias quipped, spinning around and ordering several shooters.

“Shooters?” Luke balked.

“So?” Biggs replied, giving him a confused look. Elias snorted again.

“He’s tweaking because he’s trying to impress his lover right there,” he explained, and your face flushed at the accusation.

“Are you?” Biggs teased fondly, nudging Luke’s side. You waited for him to deny those claims, but he only pouted and looked mildly annoyed.

“Yes,” Elias insisted, shoving a rather hefty shooter into Luke’s hand before turning to you, “He usually has no reservations whatsoever about getting fucked up as fast as possible. He’s trying to stay gentlemanly for you.”

Luke scowled, but still made no effort to disprove his friends. Biggs laughed and raised his glass.

“To Luke’s chivalry,” he toasted, and you chuckled in spite of yourself. Luke looked mortified, but choked down the liquor anyway, his face red as he tried and failed to feign indifference. You swallowed your shooter as well, the liquor getting much easier to handle the more inebriated you got.

“Atta boy,” Elias said, slapping Luke on the back.

“You guys are dicks,” he murmured, arm still snaked around your waist.

Elias shrugged, smirking, and then the group drifted back into the crowd, leaving the two of you leaning against the bar.

“You alright?” you asked, trying to conceal your amusement.

“Everyone’s trying to embarrass me today,” he replied, pouting a little.

“My bad.”

He chuckled at that, and then sucked down the last of his mixed drink.

“I’m tipsy. I feel like I’m going to be more than tipsy in a few minutes,” he admitted, making a face.

“That was the plan, right? To drink? Don’t hold back on my account.”

“It’s not just that,” he confessed, leaning forward and bringing his lips to your ear, as if to tell you some great secret, “But I can barely keep my hands off of you sober, and I at least want to preserve some facade of self control when we haven’t even been here for thirty minutes.”

Your mouth ran dry at that, but you managed to maintain eye contact. He was looking at you with what could only be described as lust, with a small hint of something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” you replied, a little hoarsely, “Like I said. Don’t hold back on my account.”

His expression shifted into something a little more relaxed, and he gave you a soft smile.

“You’re funny,” he said, and he squeezed your hips, “I’m really glad you made it tonight. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

At some point during this discussion, you had drifted away from the bar, and the multitudes of alcohol you’d just consumed was beginning to hit.

“What?” you blurted, “Why? I told you I would.”

“I told you,” he replied, “You make me nervous.”

It was ridiculous, but he’d said it twice tonight, and Biggs had corroborated his remarks earlier as well. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, but it seemed to be true.

“You deflected when I asked you why earlier,” you reminded him, arms looped around his neck again, his hands still firm on your hips. You could lean up and kiss him now.

He gave you that same sad smile he’d brandished earlier, and your mind felt muddled with confusion. He looked at you like that so often, and yet you could never quite place it. You were missing something.

“I did,” he agreed, and his face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“You do that a lot,” you pointed out, eyes flickering down to stare at his mouth for a split second before meeting his gaze again. He must have seen you do it, because he was giving you a look of pure wanting now.

“I do,” he agreed again, and his lips were now dangerously close to your ear, “And there you go again. Reading me. You’re gonna figure me out sooner or later.”

You didn’t know what he meant at all, but you didn’t have time to think about it, because his mouth was suddenly on the side of your neck. One of his hands came up to tilt your head a little, giving him more access. You melted, but the hand on your hip held you firmly in place as he kissed down your neck. The alcohol buzzing in your veins only heightened your sensitivity, and when he nipped at your collarbone, a wanton moan escaped you. Your own hand made its way to his hair, and you pulled a little as you tried to regain some of your leverage. He let out a shaky exhale, and you wanted to take him right there.

“You can’t seduce your way out of answering my questions,” you reprimanded him lightly, and he laughed quietly in response. You could feel him smiling against your skin, and he ignored you in favor of sucking a small bruise into the junction of your neck and collarbone. You threw your head back, biting your lip to refrain from moaning, and he gently kissed back up your neck, and you hissed when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot underneath your jaw.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, he shifted his focus, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that began as gentle. Still, you could feel the urgency and lust behind it, and you placed your hands on the back of his neck to bring him impossibly closer. He deepened the kiss then, and a small moan escaped you, spurring him on. His hands trailed down to grab your ass, and the feeling made your head spin. Your hips canted forward on their own as his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for the strong expanse of his thigh, yearning for him to be pressed even closer to you. He obliged you, slotting his knee between yours and allowing you to find some relief against him.

Between the gentle pressure of his thigh between your legs and the skillful work of his tongue, you began to lose yourself in chasing your own pleasure. You moaned into his mouth again, this time much more loudly, and he slowly pulled away.

“Hey,” he said softly, a teasing edge to his tone, “As much as I’d love to give you what you need, we are in public.”

“I don’t care,” you protested, trying to chase his lips. He chuckled quietly at you and squeezed your ass in retaliation.

“You wouldn’t say that if you were sober. You’re shy. And my friends are standing a few feet away from us.”

“I’m not shy,” you scoffed, and he smiled before kissing your forehead.

Not even ten seconds later, Elias hollered, “Get a room!” over his shoulder, Luke rolling his eyes. You immediately tensed, and he laughed at your predictable reaction.

“I told you,” he said, and you glared at him to the best of your ability, “You don’t like my friends enough to do that kinda stuff around them. We can get away from them a little later though, yeah?”

You nodded and relaxed a little, and Luke gave you a bright smile. His hands never left your ass, and you made out with him again a few more times before Leia’s set began, but nothing escalated beyond that.

He’d bought you another drink and then dragged you near the stage right before her band made their entrance. Some of his friends had followed, and now a large portion of the front row for Leia’s alternative cover band was made up of your university‘s soccer team. It was an amusing scene.

Leia, as she did last time, made an impressive entrance, stomping out in her combat boots and, this time, wearing a long black dress that she appeared to have intentionally frayed at the bottom. She wore her hair in a single, long braid that fell neatly over her shoulder. She had on so much layered jewelry that it had to have been a little heavy, and a chunky belt draped loosely around her waist. It was probably a good thing that Han wasn’t there, because he surely would’ve passed out.

She kicked it off with Bikini Kill and Le Tigre—two bands you’d heard during her last performance—but the set wasn’t completely the same. You were pretty inebriated by the time she got to the third song, and you were no longer paying much attention to what she was playing. You were just thrilled to be there, moving your head along with an intensity that would surely have your skull aching later on. Luke didn’t seem to have any reservations about doing the same, and you were having so much fun that time passed impossibly quickly.

“We’ll be back in fifteen,” Leia shouted into the mic about halfway into the show, the band needing to take a break on account of the set being longer. Before you could process what was happening, the rest of the band played a final riff as Leia fell backwards into the crowd. To most people, it probably seemed like she had blindly put her faith into a group of drunk college students to catch her; however, you knew that her actions weren’t all that reckless. She and Luke seemed to share some sort of psychic twin link, and in an instant he was there, catching her in his arms and gently helping her onto the floor.

As the rest of her band finished and the crowd dispersed a little, the three of you were left standing near the front with a bit more space than before. She was the drunkest you’d ever seen her, and she enthusiastically threw her arms around Luke.

“I heard you were a fucking animal,” she said excitedly, pulling back and shaking his shoulders. He laughed and blushed, also inebriated and unsure of what to do with that kind of compliment.

“It went well. We won, and I’m pretty happy with how I played, so I can’t complain,” he replied somewhat sheepishly.

“Don’t be so humble,” she scoffed, and then, noticing you, greeted you with a strong hug.

“Did you get to see him tonight?” she asked, grinning at you when you nodded, “Good! That makes me so happy. He really wanted you to be there—“

“Alright,” Luke interjected, placing his hands on his sister’s shoulders and moving her away from you, “Let’s not try to embarrass me while you’re drunk, Leia.”

“It takes way more than what I had to get me drunk,” she protested, but Luke was already moving her along to get a bottle of water. You considered how they often seemed to switch places when it came to who was being the least responsible. They each embraced the debauchery of college life in such distinct ways, but both of them still circled back to depending on each other. It was really sweet, and you found yourself missing Han a little extra.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

 Only a couple of miles away, Han Solo had just arrived back at your home, your rickety screen door swinging closed loudly behind him.

It was late, but not as late as he’d been getting back. He could still order takeout from somewhere. That was good, at least.

The apartment was dark. Chewie’s bedroom door was closed, so he must have either been asleep or so stoned out of his mind that he didn’t hear Han come in. Your door was open. You’d been sleeping with it open a lot more recently. Han hoped he wasn’t the reason for that, but he didn’t have the guts to ask you.

“Kid?” he called out into the hallway. No response. You were probably asleep, then.

He sighed as he stepped into the bathroom, resigned to another night of not seeing you or Chewie. It weighed heavy on him, but the looming threat to his safety weighed even heavier.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and he grimaced at his reflection. Dark circles were to be expected with how little sleep he’d been getting, but he had fooled himself into thinking his body wouldn’t have revealed his fatigue so soon. He was wrong, though; exhaustion showed all over his features. He quickly looked away.

He shrugged off his dirty clothes and inched forward into the shower, his sore leg muscles barely carrying him to his destination. When he finally stepped under the water, he hissed at the heat. He’d been so cold for so long that even the smallest amount of warmth set him on fire.

He didn’t care much for thinking in metaphors, but he supposed that feeling scalded by only a tiny bit of warmth was a fundamental truth that applied to many areas of his life. He couldn’t handle you and Chewie worrying about him, and he knew that you were. It only made him want to work harder, faster, so you wouldn’t have to be without him for a longer duration of time. He was determined to make it happen. He couldn’t selfishly admit defeat and resign himself to permanent servitude, or, in the extreme most case, death. The two of you depended on him. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He watched as different colors of dirt and grime were sucked down towards the train, a small trail of red and pink visible to him as well, though he wasn’t really sure what from. Had he sustained any injuries today? Probably, but unless he was debilitated by them, there was no point in fretting. He’d get injured plenty of times during this line of work.

His muscles refused to relax under the hot water. It should have been a comforting feeling after such a long day, but it wasn’t.

He had fooled himself into thinking he could finally catch his breath when he started living with you and Chewie. He had something to hold onto—something worth taking care of himself for. Somewhere along the way of just trying to have a group of people to tolerate to offset his own persistent loneliness, he had grown too comfortable. And now, his past had finally stopped looming over his head and was starting to actively suffocate him. The only people he loved were being hurt because of it.

He was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. It would hurt everyone if he stayed around, and it would hurt everyone if he didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. He was just tired.

He turned the hot water off, and lingered in the shower for a moment, relishing in the peace and quiet.

Until his phone rang.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, tossing a towel over his shoulders as he stepped out of the shower. Normally, he’d let it ring, but he wasn’t entirely sure if you were asleep. You could be out somewhere, and something bad could have happened to you.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw who was calling.

It was Luke.

Luke never called him. Hell, Leia never even called him that often. Something was probably wrong, then. He took a deep breath as he hit the green button.

“What?” he snapped, trying and failing to conceal his nerves. Immediately, he could hear people talking in the background. Wherever Luke was, it was crowded.

“You answered!” he cheered, and Han let out a sigh of relief. Nothing was wrong. Luke wouldn’t sound so happy if something bad had happened.

“It’s late,” he replied, keeping his annoyance at bay to the best of his ability.

“It’s Saturday,” he argued, “And I think someone texted you an invitation to come hang out with us.”

He had been drinking. A drunk call from Luke Skywalker was the last thing he’d been expecting tonight, and it was certainly not something he wanted to deal with in the slightest.

He put Luke on speaker and went to open his text messages, and sure enough, in your roommate group chat, there was a notification from you.

roomies 😈🧨

1 notification

From You: i know you guys haven’t done anything except work and go to class for the past two weeks but if you’re interested luke and i are going to see leia’s band tonight downtown. they’re playing until pretty late and we’ll be here the whole time :)

He sighed. He hadn’t checked any of his texts all day, but even if he had, he likelihood of him attending was pretty slim. He was exhausted, his body ached, and above all, he just wanted to shut himself in his room and waste away for as long as he could.

“Kid,” he said, sighing again, “Look, it sounds like a lot of fun. I’m sure your sister’s putting on a great show. But it’s late, and I’ve worked all day.”

“I’m not calling because of Leia,” he replied, suddenly sounding much more sober than he had mere seconds ago, “I’m calling because your best friend isn’t gonna be able to relax until you either text back and say that you’ve made it home safely, or you accept the invitation and show up here. And I think the latter would be a pretty nice surprise after barely seeing each other for two weeks, don’t you?”

He mulled this over for a moment. On one hand, he should be pleased. Luke had apparently noticed that you missed Han, and had taken it upon himself to call him and demand that he make an appearance. It reminded him of Leia, and it certainly showed that he was willing to do anything to make you happy.

On the other hand, he was doing all of this at Han’s expense.

“It’s late,” he repeated, a weak attempt to reassure himself that he shouldn’t feel guilty for not going tonight.

But Luke was right. He hadn’t had a full conversation with you since he’d started working for Jabba. He had been so overwhelmed by his own pain that he hadn’t even considered that his absence was making it hard for you to enjoy himself—at least, not to the extent of other people picking up on it. He frowned.

“I won’t pretend to know—I’m on the phone!” he drunkenly shouted, likely to one of his asshole friends, “Sorry. I won’t pretend to know what things are like for you right now. But your people miss you. I miss you, too. Bring Chewie and come out tonight, okay? I have to go.”

He heard some more talking and rustling on Luke’s end, and then the younger man hung up. It wasn’t the most articulate he’d ever heard him be, but he made a point. Sighing and dragging his towel down over his face, Han began to relent.

Grumbling and swearing under his breath, he dried off his aching body and tied his towel around his waist, not bothering to put on a shirt as his knuckles rasped against Chewie’s door.

Han could hear the other man getting up, and when the door finally swung open, a cloud of smoke seemed to emit from Chewie himself. His eyes were red and tired, and he was undoubtedly stoned out of his mind. Still, he managed to look at Han with surprise.

“Get dressed,” Han murmured, trying not to scowl as he said it, “We’re going out.”

Chewie, despite his lethargy, gave him the widest smile he’d ever seen.

53 notes · View notes

dazaih · 21 days ago

Text

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can read previous chapters here

chapter twelve -> opening up

chapter warnings: crying, nightmares, implied ptsd

a/n: rotj luke vibes for this chapter (being philosophical about his own mental health to avoid actually confronting his feelings and burdening those around him). rotj leia vibes in this chapter too (conspiring with lando to walk right into danger with the hutts and get han out of trouble). also this chapter is very dialogue heavy i apologize if that’s not ur thing! enjoy!!

You woke up to an empty bed. Noticing that the morning sunlight had yet to seep in through his blinds, you glanced at your phone. It was a little after five o’clock in the morning, you noted. Luke had probably had a nightmare.

Deciding to check on him, you crawled out of bed. You assumed he was in the bathroom, so that was the first place you looked. You were half expecting him to be gripping the sink and trying to regain his composure, but when you reached your destination, he was nowhere to be found. He was probably in the kitchen then. However, when you made your way into the next room, he wasn’t there either. Slightly panicked, you checked the living room and the guest room as well. Nothing.

You hurried back into the living room to make sure you hadn’t overlooked him sleeping on the couch or something, turning on the lights. Your hopes had been in vain, as the room appeared to be empty, and you briefly considered waking the others up. Surely Leia would know what to do.

You turned the lights back off and paced for a second, trying to decide if you were overreacting. He had seemed alright when you all were on the balcony earlier—

And that’s when you realized you’d forgotten to check there. The blinds had been drawn on the glass doors leading to the balcony, so you held your breath and crossed your fingers when you opened the door.

There, a blanket hanging over his shoulders and what looked like a mug in his hand, stood Luke. He was leaning over the railing and looking out at the cityscape, his hair blowing in the early morning breeze. He didn’t look at you when you walked out on to the balcony, but you were certain he’d heard the door open. You lingered in the doorway for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or let him be.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he said then, his voice a bit scratchy.

“You didn’t,” you replied, still unsure of whether or not you should join him, “Just happened to wake up, and then I noticed you were gone. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay,” he told you, his back still turned to you, “Thanks for checking. You can go back to bed.”

You hesitated. Did he want you to leave, or was he just trying to put your concerns for him to rest? Several seconds ticked by as you remained put.

“It’s really okay,” he assured you again, and you heard him sip from what you could only assume was tea, “You don’t need to worry.”

“I know,” you said quietly, and then, blurted, “I just missed you.”

He turned sharply at that, finally looking at you. When you saw his face, it was clear that he’d been crying earlier. Now, however, he just seemed surprised.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“I missed you,” you repeated, “And I don’t really want to go back to bed without you.”

He stared at you for a moment, and then gave you the smallest of smiles. Something about it seemed sad, but you were still glad to see it. You smiled back.

“You’re sweet,” he told you, his back leaning against the railing as he continued to stare at you. His eyes raked over your entire body, slowly, and lingered on your bare arms for a moment before he beckoned you.

Confused, but always willing to oblige him, you stumbled over to him, your bare feet hitting the cool concrete below. He lifted the blanket with his free hand, and you startled a little when you felt his arm wrap around you. He turned, and now the two of you were sharing a blanket and leaning over the balcony railing at five in the morning. You had never seen the city from this height at this hour before, and you realized with a strange delight that it was still waking up. A few cars were beginning to occupy the streets, and you could make out a couple of businessmen trying to get an early start as their heavy briefcases nearly dragged them to the ground. A few particularly ambitious people were completing their morning runs, and you briefly thought that Luke might fit in well with them. You watched as a few coffee shops and cafes turned on their lights, a beacon of hope for all of the early birds who had risen earlier than the sun. Not fully understanding why, you smiled.

“It’s comforting, isn’t it?” he said suddenly, his gravelly voice breaking you out of your trance. You turned to look at him, only to realize that his expression mimicked your own, and that his focus was entirely on the city below.

“Yes,” you replied, “But I’m not really sure why.”

He hummed and took another sip of tea, drumming his fingers lightly against the side of his mug.

“Nightmares aren’t fun for anyone,” he said thoughtfully, still staring at the quiet streets below, “But I’m not sure if they bother everyone in the same way that they bother me. Like, as a concept. Does that make sense?”

“No,” you admitted, and he giggled a little beside of you, “But I’m not a philosophy major.”

“Point taken,” he chuckled, “I could have articulated that better. What I meant was that I consider myself to be a pretty social person. I like people. But other people sleep, usually through the night. I don’t. So there’s a part of my daily routine where I’m completely alone, and it’s usually right after my mind has conjured up some sort of horrible distortion of my own memories. It feels like an oddly personal attack, and as a concept it bothers me almost as much as the nightmares themselves.”

You had never heard anyone describe nightmares as a concept rather than as something deeply personal and scary. You considered his words, but you weren’t really sure what to say. And of course Luke was fond of a philosophical approach to understanding every day life—it was his major, after all, and you’d seen his bookshelf—but you realized then that you’d never really seen him exercise that part of his personality before. He was usually upbeat and funny, even when he had to force himself to be. You rarely ever saw him like this: contemplative and melancholy.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and you panicked when you realized that he was about to dismiss his previous spiel as anything less than genuine and important, “That probably sounded stupid. It’s early, and I’m tired.”

“No!” you blurted, and he turned to look at you then, brow quirked in amusement, “No, sorry, just—I think it’s interesting. If you’re comfortable saying more, I’d like to hear it.”

He stared at you for a moment before offering you another small smile, gazing back out at the cityscape.

“Okay,” he hummed, “Well, there’s another thing I don’t like about the concept of nightmares—or my nightmares, at least. Like I said, I like people. I think people are inherently good. Are you familiar with Mencius?”

“No,” you confessed, finding his fast pace difficult to keep up with at this hour; though, you still wanted to listen.

“He was a Confucian philosopher. I’m not a Confucian or anything myself, but I agree that human beings have a certain innate goodness. Mencius says that if a child falls into a well, most people will stop what they’re doing and help, because people are good. I think he’s right.”

“Maybe,” you replied, trying to process his philosophy lesson at five in the morning. It was a lot.

“You don’t have to agree,” he told you, grinning a little, “It’s what I think, though. But the people in my nightmares are never like that. Most of my dreams are about the same memories, but with an even worse twist where everyone is cruel and ill-intentioned. No one is ever kind.”

You weren’t exactly following. You rubbed your eyes and waited for him to continue.

“Despite telling myself that I really, deeply believe in the goodness of people, my subconscious seems to disagree. So that’s the second thing I hate about the concept of my own nightmares. They challenge my beliefs about the world. It really bothers me,” he confessed, his voice trailing off at the end. He sighed and, almost nervously, sipped from his tea again.

You digested his words for a moment before responding. Luke had managed to sidestep talking about his nightmares by discussing them as a philosophical concept instead. Nevertheless, he’d granted you entry into the inner workings of his mind. Regardless of how sparse he was being with the details, this was perhaps the most vulnerable he’d ever been around you. Was this the real him? Solemn, introspective, and generally frustrated with his own subconscious?

You thought back to all of the times you’d seen him genuinely happy. When Leia was performing and the entire barricade was practically shaking with his excitement. When you had breakfast with him and let him choose your meal. He was radiant, energetic, and so full of life you could hardly believe it sometimes.

The duality of Luke Skywalker was puzzling, and yet, it made sense all the same. Was he social, happy, and generally grounded, or was he alone, sad, and confused by who he was? Perhaps both things could be true: Luke really did have a genuine love for life, but he harbored a certain kind of sadness than ran much deeper than you’d originally thought. You’d always noticed that he had a bit of an edge to him, and even the first time you’d met him, you felt that he was trying to steer your focus away from any personal details about himself.

“Do you know what intellectualizing is?” you finally asked. You felt him look at you, but now it was your turn to keep your gaze honed in on the gradually brightening city below.

“No,” he said, and you saw him cock his head at you out of the corner of your eye, “But based on the look on your face, I’m gonna venture to guess that you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

You turned sharply, surprised by how quickly he’d come to that conclusion when you hadn’t even said anything yet. When you met his stare, however, he didn’t seem upset. Just curious and a little detached.

“Sorry,” you muttered sheepishly, looking back at the skyline, “What you’re saying is interesting and smart. You’re interesting and smart, and I’m really grateful that you’re comfortable telling me all of this.”

“But?” he prompted you, and of course he picked up on your reservations. Luke not only loved people, but he knew them too. He was reading you like a book.

“But you’re approaching your nightmares academically. It’s not as obvious at first because your lens is philosophical, but that’s still what you’re doing, isn’t it? Sure, conceptually, they challenge your beliefs about who you are. But that’s not why you wake up crying.”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. It was the bluntest you’d ever been with him, and you weren’t even quite sure why you’d said it, but it felt necessary. You knew his eyes were boring into the side of your face, and surely he was studying you now. Finally, you heard him chuckle.

“I guess you’ve seen through me,” he said quietly, giving you a sad smile as you both turned to look at each other again. He looked like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You felt like you were missing something.

“It’s not bad,” you clarified, meeting his eyes, “I’m just saying that I hope you have people in your life that you can talk to about how your nightmares make you feel. Or about why you have them. Those aren’t things you have to share with me, but I just—I don’t know. I hope you’re not bottling all of those emotions up.”

He blinked, and his expression somehow grew even more solemn. He looked down.

“I’ve worked through all of it already. It just lingers in the back of my mind, I guess.”

“How long have you had them?” you asked, gently touching his arm. He looked up at you again.

“Well,” he sighed, chewing on his bottom lip a little, “They started when I was six, but I didn’t get diagnosed with parasomnia until a while after that. I had it under control in high school, actually. I mean, I’d have nightmares once every week or so or something, but not like I do now. Now it’s every night again.”

You frowned. That sounded exhausting.

“Did something happen?” you asked cautiously, and he leaned into your touch a little, “Like, recently?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly, and he seemed to grow even more nervous, “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can talk about this anymore.”

“Don’t apologize,” you assured him quickly, bringing your hand close to his face to tuck his hair behind his ear, “I didn’t mean that you had to tell me everything. I just meant that I hope you’re addressing how this stuff makes you feel instead of intellectualizing as a defense mechanism. Sorry, I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you, I just—“

He giggled and, to your surprise, wrapped his arms around you. He placed a kiss on top of your head and held you for a second. You were too caught off guard to speak.

“Leia thinks I surround myself with people who don’t think twice about this kinda stuff on purpose,” he admitted, still holding you close to him, “She says I do it so I don’t have to risk being confronted when I seem off."

"Do you?" you asked, your voice muffled by his proximity.

"Not knowingly," he huffed, before pressing another kiss to your head, "But that's not the point. I just wanted to say thanks, I guess."

"For what?"

"For seeing through me. And for not seeming to mind when I'm a little off-putting. Sorry for subjecting you to my overthinking at five in the morning, by the way."

"No," you said quickly, your brain scrambling to produce something articulate, "I enjoy this. Not you being sad, but just talking to you. I like honesty. And I like you. The city looks cool in the morning too."

"Doesn't it?" he replied, his mood brightening a little at your comment, "Like I said, my nightmares are isolating and generally pessimistic. But sometimes, I wake up at the same time as a few other people in the city. And I come out here to watch. Makes me feel less alone.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, the two of you turning to look over the railing again.

You watched as more businesses turned on their lights, further illuminating the streets. You squinted to see a woman on her morning run stop to pick up what looked like a piece of trash. You wondered if Luke saw it too, but your suspicions were confirmed soon after.

“And that’s the second reason why I like coming out here after a bad dream,” he said, “To remind myself that people are good.”

She threw the litter away, and then sprinted down the street until she was too far for you to see anymore. You turned to look at Luke. He was smiling.

For such a small good deed to feel like a personal triumph to him warmed your heart a little. You had always believed that Luke was a nice person, but it was then that you realized that he truly embodied good in every sense of the word.

The more you got to know him, the more you surrendered yourself to the fate of being wholeheartedly infatuated with Luke Skywalker.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You had managed to get Luke to go back to sleep, and, as it turned out, he was still exhausted from the prior night’s events. He passed out in your arms, head tucked under your chin as you rubbed his back.

You woke up a few hours later to find that you were wrapped in his arms as he held you closely to his chest. You studied his features for about thirty seconds before Han’s knuckles were banging against the door, startling him awake. He jumped a little, but you were quick to caress his cheek and assure him that everything was alright.

“It’s just Han being annoying,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He let out a tired giggle.

“I can hear you,” Han called out from the other side of the door, “Are you two decent?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then get out here. We have to go.”

You didn’t know what the hurry was. You reluctantly tried to untangle yourself from Luke’s arms, but with little success. You looked at him skeptically, only to find that his eyes were once again closed.

“Luke,” you said, trying to weasel your way out of his grip, “I bet Chewie’s here with the van. I gotta get up.”

“I’m asleep,” he replied coyly, a small smile stretching over his face.

“Maybe Leia’s right. You’re getting spoiled.”

“I can drive you home later,” he offered, eyes still closed. You lightly hit his shoulder, in spite of your limited mobility.

“I already made him spend the night here. I should really go.”

“Like he took much convincing,” he snorted, and you laughed in spite of yourself.

“Like I said, I can hear you,” Han snapped, and Luke sighed as he reluctantly rolled over on his side, freeing you from his grip. You got up and stretched, and Luke watched you from bed.

“You look good. Wear those home,” he said, eyes lingering on the small bit of your skin that was exposed by his worn out shirt collar. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t get excited,” you told him, and you heard Han sigh from the other side of the door.

“You make it difficult,” he replied, voice groggy with sleep but still carrying an air of mischief.

“I’m gonna leave you here,” Han threatened, banging on the door once again.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

“Hey,” he said, suddenly sitting up, “Before I forget, I wanted to ask you something.”

You froze.

“I’m all ears,” you replied nervously, and you felt your heartbeat increase.

“I have a home game next weekend. It’s a playoff game. I have a few free tickets reserved for family, but my parents can’t come and Leia has a concert the same night. Would you wanna come? One of my aunts is coming, so you wouldn’t have to sit alone. There’s no pressure or anything, but—“

“Yes,” you agreed without a second thought. His face lit up instantly.

“Really?” he asked, suddenly much more awake than he had been before. And how could you regret your quick agreement when he looked so happy?

“Sure,” you replied, swallowing hard. You would do anything for him if it meant that you could see him smile like this all the time.

“That’s—Wow. I was really scared you’d say no. That’s why I haven’t asked you to come to a game yet.”

The idea that you could possibly make Luke Skywalker nervous was almost laughable.

“I have to see if you’re as good as you say you are,” you teased tiredly, leaning over to mess up his hair. He didn’t even bother slapping your hand away; he just smiled.

“I’ll make sure to put in the extra work for you,” he replied, tone flirty but still weighed down by his exhaustion. You blushed and laughed.

“I gotta go before Han kills me. Thanks for letting me stay,” you said, giving him a small wave as you headed towards the door. When you opened it, your roommate practically dragged you down the hallway. You heard Luke chuckle from his pile of blankets on the bed, and he called out a goodbye to you as you struggled to keep up with Han.

“Did you say bye to Leia?” you asked, not seeing her in the living room or kitchen.

“Yes?” he replied, looking at you like you were stupid.

“I was just making sure you didn’t leave without saying anything.”

“Don’t worry,” he grunted, tying up his boots, “I won’t sabotage your chances with Luke by having bad manners with the princess. I’ve been on my best behavior.”

You smacked him in the arm and didn’t bother humoring him with an additional reply. You stumbled out the door and into the elevator, Han’s hand on your upper back as if he were expecting you to turn around and run back into Luke’s arms. As usual, he was being dramatic.

Chewie had his hazard lights on in the fifteen minute parking in front of the apartment complex. When he caught sight of Han, he got out and moved into the passenger seat. Han always preferred to drive. You crawled into the back.

As Han put the van into drive, you saw Chewie’s eyes widen. Then, he broke out into a quiet snicker. You heard Han sigh.

“What?” you asked, trying to follow Chewie’s eyes. Wordlessly, he tugged at Han’s shirt collar and pointed.

There, at the base of his neck, was the beginning of a trail of hickeys. You audibly gasped.

“Not a fucking word,” Han snapped, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

You entertained his request, but you wore a shit-eating grin the whole way home. Every time he made eye contact with you through the rear view mirror, he would let out that same tortured sigh.

In the entire time that you’d known him, you’d never seen Han with a hickey. He prided himself in being a giver, but he was never willing to be tied down to any one person. To him, hickeys were a warning for others to stay away. He didn’t allow his partners to leave a mark. It just wasn’t his style.

Until now, apparently.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, the following week wasn’t great. Han was increasingly absent, which could only mean that he had been serious about repaying his debt to his former employers. You hoped that Lando would make good on his word to keep your roommate out of harm’s way, but you had no idea what he and Leia had discussed. Han didn’t come home until extremely late in the night, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaving your bedroom door cracked so you could hear him enter the apartment. You couldn’t sleep until you knew he’d made it home, but the earliest he’d returned all week was two in the morning.

In other words, you hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep.

You also got your cast off this week, but because your appointment was later in the afternoon and Han’s work with the Hutts started as soon as he was out of class, you’d had to walk there. You were a little bitter about it, and your mood was further worsened when you actually got the cast removed and saw how dry and red your skin was underneath. The doctor told you that you should expect some additional pain as you began to use your wrist more, but you were still irritated the following day when it turned out that she’d been right.

You were practically a zombie by the time Thursday rolled around. There was a dull ache in your wrist and the skin surrounding it looked unappealing to you. On its own, this wouldn’t weigh heavily on you, but the situation with Han had made you so nervous you felt like throwing up every time you thought about it. A combination of your lack of sleep, the manageable but incessant pain, and not knowing whether or not Lando would show up at your doorstep to tell you that the Hutts had gone too far and Han was in the hospital again all had you feeling nauseous and exhausted.

You were so out of it, in fact, that you apparently hadn’t seen Luke wave at you earlier. When you got home, you opened your phone to a few concerned texts from him.

Luke: heyyyy are u ok? waved at u earlier and u didn’t even see me D:

You frowned. You hadn’t meant to upset Luke. You replied immediately.

You: omg i’m so sorry it’s been a rough week i’m just really out of it :(

You likely wouldn’t hear back from him for a while, seeing as it was now evening and he was likely at practice. You needed to try to get some sleep before you went to his game on Saturday. You didn’t want to look ungrateful or disinterested because you were tired.

You sat down on the couch to dull your mind with reality television until Chewie got home later in the evening. Your exhaustion must have been catching up with you, because it didn’t take long for you to doze off.

You awoke with a start when you heard someone knocking at the front door. You looked around in mild panic. You didn’t get many visitors, and Han and Chewie weren’t home yet. You were half expecting the person on the other side of the door to be a police officer who had come to tell you that Han’s work with the Hutts had put him in critical condition again, or worse. With your stomach in knots, you reluctantly rose from the couch and forced your feet to carry you to the door. You were shaking a little when you twisted the knob, but when you finally opened it, you were more confused than anything else.

Luke was standing there, hair tousled and slightly damp, oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants with Adidas slides on his feet. The change in style suddenly reminded you that he was an athlete. He must have just showered and come from practice.

Instead of greeting him, you just stared, eyes wide and tired. He had never shown up unannounced before. He had never even shown up on his own at all, actually. Your eyes drifted down to his hand, which was holding a large brown takeout bag. You blinked.

“Hey,” he said, his brows furrowed as he studied your face, “Can I come in? I brought dinner.”

Despite his obvious concern for you, he still did his best to give you a comforting smile. The gesture made you feel emotionally overwhelmed. You swallowed hard and stepped to the side, afraid that you’d break down crying if you tried to speak.

He smiled again and shut the door behind him, kicking off his slides and placing the bag on the counter. He began unloading its contents, and you realized then that he’d brought you Italian takeout. He’d even ordered a little box of garlic cheese bread. Before you could ask how he even knew where the dishes were, he was reaching into your top cabinet and pulling out two plates. You couldn’t muster the energy to protest and tell him that you were capable of getting your own serving, and you watched idly as he prepared a plate for you.

“Sorry I’m stopping by so late,” he said, focused on his task, “I just got out of practice, but I smelled really bad so I showered in the locker room before coming here. If you want some alone time, feel free to chase me off after I’ve seen you eat something, okay?”

You didn’t reply, instead just watching him fix your food while your mind grew distant. It was dark outside, you realized. Han was out there somewhere. You frowned.

If Luke noticed, he didn’t say anything. He put your plate down on the table and placed his own across from you. Without as much as a word, he put his hand on the small of your back and guided you towards the table, pulling out your chair for you in a display so gentlemanly you’d normally tease him for it. You just didn’t have the energy to do that tonight. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before circling around to his own chair and taking a seat.

“I can go pick up something else if you don’t like it,” he told you, smiling at you again, “Or I can cook something for you. Whichever you’d prefer.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Instead, you felt your eyes begin to burn with tears that threatened to spill. You would not cry in front of Luke Skywalker. It didn’t matter how stressful this week had been. That would just be humiliating.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing quickly and returning to your side of the table. He knelt so that his eyes were level with yours, even as you were sitting. It was a nice gesture meant to make you feel more comfortable, but having to look him in the eye just fueled your panic. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands.

“Sorry,” you mumbled weakly, swallowing your nerves as you tried to pull yourself together, “It’s been a hard week.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told you, and he pulled out another chair so that he could sit across from you, “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. I showed up uninvited and unannounced.”

He was so close that your knees were touching his. You swallowed.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, rubbing your eyes, “It’s not your fault. I’m just a little embarrassed for you to see me like this.”

“Why?” he asked, cocking his head at you, “You’ve seen me cry before. It’s natural.”

You supposed you had seen him cry. For a brief moment, you wondered how your fake relationship had spiraled into something as intimate as this.

“I just—You brought me dinner. And you’re trying to be sweet to me and do something nice. And now I’m about to cry.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” he told you softly, taking one of your hands into his own, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Dinner will get cold.”

“We can reheat it. But if you’d rather eat now, we can do that first. It’s up to you.”

“I won’t be able to make much small talk with you during dinner,” you admitted sheepishly, frowning. He laughed.

“You should know that I can talk plenty to make up for it.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, and that’s all he needed before he was sliding back into his own seat across the table from you.

Luke finished his food rather quickly, likely starving after exercising so much during practice. He decided to fill the silence by talking to you about a book he’d been reading for one of his classes recently. You nodded every now and then and listened intently, but didn’t feel up to giving much of your own commentary. To your surprise, it didn’t feel awkward at all.

When you were finished, he took your plate for you and placed it in the sink. He then presented you with one of the tastiest looking cannolis you’d ever seen.

“I never skip dessert,” he told you, and he placed the small plate down in front of you.

Your mood was slightly improved by the flavorful dinner and dessert, and you felt a little better after eating. You hadn’t exactly put a lot of effort into making sure you had been eating full meals this week, and you were suddenly very grateful that Luke had picked up where you’d been slacking.

Despite your protests, he washed and put away the dirty dishes.

“Alright,” he said when he was finished, smiling at you as if he’d been happy to do the work, “I’m all yours for the rest of the night. Did you still wanna talk? It’s also okay if you just wanted to hang out. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Han and Chewie aren’t home,” you mumbled, sighing, “We can just sit in the living room.”

He nodded sympathetically, as if he could pick up on how lonely the absence of your two roommates was making you, and he followed you into the living room. You took a seat on the far end of the couch, facing him, and he sat in the middle with his legs criss-crossed, as if he were about to meditate. It was so Luke that you nearly giggled in spite of yourself. Once you were settled in, a stiff silence befell the room. You squirmed a little, but Luke didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. He was just patiently staring at you with honest, bright eyes.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked you, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender you could’ve cried then.

“I guess so,” you replied, sighing, “It’s Han. I’m just really worried about him, and I haven’t had a conversation with him all week. I’m scared he’s gonna get hurt again.”

Luke nodded, expression earnest and kind.

“He’s working with those guys again, yeah?” he asked. Leia had likely told him already, but you weren’t sure to what extent they’d talked about it.

“Yeah. I think he’s been really on edge since the Cloud City stuff. He’s worried they’ll kill him if he doesn’t make more progress on paying off his debt, so he’s working with them again. I hate it.”

“It was traumatic for you too,” he said softly, now holding one of your hands in his own, “It would make sense for you to be worried even if you hadn’t been there that night, but I can only imagine that this makes it even harder. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumbled, surprised that his focus was on you and your feelings rather than trying to reassure you about Han’s predicament, “I’m just kind of a nervous wreck. I don’t think I could handle seeing him like that again.”

He nodded, and then another thought suddenly entered your head.

“I should be going with him,” you said, startled by the realization, “He only made it out last time because other people were around. If I start going with him, then—“

“No,” he replied softly, the slow brushing of his thumb over your knuckles a stark contrast to your abrupt panic, “Putting yourself in danger isn’t going to make him any safer. And he has Lando there, doesn’t he?”

“Did Leia tell you anything about that?” you asked, growing a little desperate and frantic.

“Not much. Just that Han and Lando used to be involved in that scene together, and that Lando assured her that they’d be okay.”

You’d been wondering about what Leia’s intentions were from the moment Lando had admitted that she’d contacted him, and who would know her better than her own twin brother?

“How involved do you think she’d get?” you asked, “From what Lando said, it seemed like she might try to set something up where the Hutts get into some legal trouble. But she’d have to know a lot about them to pull that off—“

“She’d do that,” he confessed, sighing and looking down, “She’d walk right into trouble for the people she loves. That’s just how she is.”

“Then shouldn’t I be doing something to help too?”

“Leia is calculated,” he said thoughtfully, “But she can also be reckless. And you’ve already gotten hurt with this stuff before. I don’t think you should be involved.”

“I wish he would stop,” you snapped, throat closing up, “He won’t let me help him at all. I offered to cover his rent and he said no. He just wants to do it all by himself.”

“He’s stubborn,” Luke agreed, now placing his hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I wish there was something more I could do. I’m sure we could make a payment on some of his debt—“

“There’s no way he’d let you do that.”

“I figured,” he sighed, rubbing your shoulder soothingly, “I’m not sure that we can do a whole lot then. Unless you want to go behind his back and turn the Hutts in, but that seems like it could already be Leia’s plan.”

“I feel helpless,” you admitted, slightly panicked once again, “It’s only been a week, and this is driving me crazy. I don’t even know how much he owes them. Or the full story of how the got involved in all of this. How long do I have to stay up wondering if he’s safe or not?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said again, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug, “I can’t change things with Han, but if there’s anything I can do for you while all of this is going on, I’m more than happy to. Just let me know if you need anything at all.”

And you couldn’t help it. You really did start crying then. How could you not? His hand had slid down to your back, and was now rubbing small circles into it. You quietly cried into his shoulder, your head buried there as you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. If he looked at you in a way as loving as how he was cradling you, you would certainly only cry harder.

You felt confused in every sense of the word. You were confused about Han’s plan, and about how Leia and Lando factored into it. You were confused about why Luke had come here in the first place if your relationship was only a facade. You were confused about your feelings for him.

You craved certainty, and you would’ve done anything to have a clear answer about something in your life right now. Something tangible that you could hold on to, because all you had to hold on to right now was Luke, and you weren’t quite sure how real this even was.

“I can’t do it,” you whispered into his shoulder, shaking with the effort it took to speak, “It’s only been a week. He and Chewie are all I have. I can’t lose him.”

Luke didn’t tell you that Han wouldn’t get hurt. He didn’t tell you that he was sure your roommate would be perfectly fine. He didn’t reassure you of the man’s safety at all, and he didn’t try to offer some sort of timeline for how long he thought this would take. Part of you wished he would, but you knew deep down that he couldn’t possibly tell you those things truthfully, because there was just no way for him to know. He was as clueless as you were, and if there was one thing you’d learned about Luke, it was that he was honest. Private, secretive even, but he didn’t seem to make a habit of lying to you.

Instead, he cradled the back of your head as he held you with his other arm. And then, in a small, uncertain voice, he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly, as if he knew that he wasn’t giving you the kind of reassurance that you so deeply craved, “I know it’s not the same, but they’re not all you have. You have me. If there’s anything I can do to make it easier on you, just say the word. I promise you have me.”

That could mean so many things, couldn’t it? You continued to cry softly as he held you, and he continued to take this task very seriously, giving you light and comforting touches while keeping you grounded in his arms. It was exactly what you needed. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed.

After several minutes, you finally pulled away a little, though your bodies still remained touching. He looked devastated when he actually saw the remanence of your tears, and he gently brushed one of them from your cheek with his thumb. He offered you a sad smile then, and you felt so incredibly guilty for making him anything other than happy.

“I think Chewie is working and staying out of the house as much as possible because he can’t stand Han not being here,” you said with a shaky sigh, “He stays busy so he doesn’t feel his absence as much.”

“That makes sense. They seem really close.”

“They are,” you agreed, “But we all are. And now I’m spending my nights here alone. I feel like I’m the only one who can’t get used to this.”

“That’s not true,” he assured you, “You just said it yourself. Chewie’s probably as upset as you are, but he’s just showing it differently. You’re not overreacting.”

You gave him a smile that you knew didn’t reach your eyes. Sometimes, you felt like Luke was leagues ahead of you when it came to emotional intelligence. You knew that he cared for Han and Chewie as well—you’d witnessed as much—but his focus throughout this entire interaction had been you. He knew exactly what was out of his control. He couldn’t change how Han and Chewie were behaving, but he could help you process your emotions.

“Thanks for saying that,” you said sincerely, reaching out and squeezing his hand, “And thank you for listening. I know it’s kind of messy.”

“I’ve had my own share of messy situations,” he replied, and you giggled, “And you can tell me anything. I might not be able to do very much to help, but I want to try.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you mumbled, blushing a little, “You being here is enough. Can I pay you back for dinner?”

“Absolutely not,” he argued, grinning.

“I figured,” you sighed, sinking into the couch, “Well, it’s getting kind of late, and I know that you have a busy weekend coming up. Don’t feel pressured to stay.”

“I’ll go if you want me to go,” he replied, “But I wouldn’t mind watching something with you, if you want.”

“You don’t have to,” you reiterated. He shook his head like you were being ridiculous.

“I like spending time with you. I’d do this every night if I could.”

You were momentarily too caught off guard to reply. In fact, you didn’t manage to reply at all, instead just nodding and reaching for the remote as your mouth went dry. He must have noticed your reaction, because he was hiding a smile behind his hand.

“If you’re gonna stay, you can’t make fun of me,” you warned, lightly slapping his knee. His smile only widened.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him once more.

You put on a cheesy 80s movie that you were sure he hadn’t seen before. As the film played, you noticed that his eyes kept drifting from the screen to you. When you caught him, he didn’t appear to be bashful or ashamed. Instead, he just continued to admire you, a certain fondness in his expression that you had a hard time believing was reserved for you.

For the first time in days, you felt safe again.

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