title: ??
word count: 897
rating: pg
genre: fluff, han’s a nervous ‘lil bean
prompt: Marriage/Loyalty from @techniiciian
He’s pieced together more than enough scattered fragments, Tatooine’s seemingly obscure culture is difficult to understand and Han wants light shed over the darkest corners without having to ask Luke a single thing. Held together by the data he’s compiled and the questionable information Threepio so happily provided, ( much to Han’s annoyance ); Han has confirmed that there isn’t a grand ritual or anything of the like when it comes to a bonding ceremony.
Good. Luke doesn’t care for fancy.
Given, he could simply ask, make positive, so as to not make an utter fool of himself. After all, it isn’t a difficult question for Luke to fathom, quite on the right side of abrupt and completely bewildering for Han Solo to inquire.
It’d probably blindside the kid; perfect because Han doesn’t want another question vaulted back at him. Luke has done that more than enough times with pretty much anything. Now, he all but swears it’s a tactic Luke must’ve picked up while he was in the freeze because Luke would’ve never tried to do roundabouts with Han before, not when he could promptly blurt kraat out or express his opinion through a blatant, vehement expression.
Luke has changed a lot, that’s for sure, but he’s still the same farm boy Han met him as. Their meeting on Tatooine, in that flea-bitten bar, still clear as a cloudless, Corellian summer day, in his mind.
A cherished memory more than anything. Reminds him that even though things are different now, there’s at least something to anchor him to the past, to a time where he witnessed a different side of Luke: ‘The Last Jedi’.
Also surges his pride that there’s virtually no question as to who is closer to Skywalker out of most who’ve gotten to know him. ‘Hard to get close to him’ is what he hears often. Damned right, too! Can’t say he doesn’t miss the way Luke once was… It’s all right though, it really is. For he’s someone who’s able to catch a fleeting glimmer of stolen youth, on that impassive profile of Luke’s; carved straight out of stone, Luke embodies the state of physical calm on a daily basis. Admittedly, it’s infuriating only a third of the time.
The rest of the time, Han thinks it’s rather sexy.
Speaking of sexy — this isn’t sexy, Han silently concedes, all ten fingers carding through his hair for the eighth time, standing in front of his ‘fresher’s mirror. He is dressed nice enough, better than what he’s donned for the past few days in a row: grease slathered coveralls and an extremely heavy-duty visor that’s seen a nasty blaster shot or seven.
Aches to even tip his head back when he inspects the scruff he can’t get rid of, lacking the laser kit for it, which either benefits him or further projects the image that he’s a joke and this is a joke and Han Solo’ll never get to marry Luke Skywalker because he’s a goddamn joke juxtaposed to the last Jedi Master, final defender of the karkin’ galaxy.
But hey, by some unspoken miracles, he’s gotten this far, right?
Right, right, right, he mutters to himself, hands twitching as he slides them flat over his chest, down to his stomach, registers the hard quivers rolling over his gut that’s a savage mix of both anticipation and fear.
Now, since when does Han Solo fear anything?
Well, to tell the truth: he fears absolutely everything, all the godsbedamned time — ain’t quite the point. Though, he probably set himself up for that one.
It’s fine, it’s fine. Things’ll go well, so long as he’s smooth about it.
Albeit something Solo lacks to a near concerning degree, he’d waited more than a year for Luke to get settled on Yavin, adjust to his new academy, the whole flock of new students to teach and to care for. Younglings had run around, left and right, tripping visitors, tripping Han, wreaking utter havoc; in essence, driving Solo up the walls with just his bare hands.
It’s been going great. Fantastic.
So much so that Han realized, not long ago, that somewhere in between the already heavily blurred lines, he’d tasted a forbidden fruit he’s never allowed himself to even consider the name of. Could never afford it, even if it wasn’t at all expensive. Damned cheap thing and easy to acquire in a galaxy like this, full of people and expectations and promise, simply wasn’t something he would’ve ever thought he’d want.
❝Hey, I couldn’t find you. Where have you been?❞
And just like that, Han’s reality warps on the instant. Flips him over as if the Falcon’s gravity settings have gone and inverted because of an overlooked bug in the system. But they ain’t on the Falcon and Han is fairly sure he hasn’t hit the karkin’ ceiling. Even if it feels like his guts might have.
Luke’s eyes have taken on a storm-blue in the gray light of his fresher. Perceptive enough to probe every impulsive turn he could make, pass ambivalence altogether, and take him apart with nothing but unconditional love and acceptance.
Shavit. Solo supposes he’s pretty damn lucky.
❝Are you alright?❞ Luke takes a step closer, and Han forces his mind three steps back.
❝Yeah. You got some time? Need to ask you somethin’.❞
a/n: thank you for bothering to read this. i’ve been improving my english :)
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
areudirty
romaincrisis
