CW: PTSD, anxiety, chronic illness, disability, implied sexual intimacy
Ao3 Link
★★★★★★★★
Usually Bodhi insists you stay comfortable at home when he comes in from off-planet—he knows it can be a struggle getting into this part of the city, and that the crowds here can be overwhelming with so many beings coming and going from Chandrila. But today, meeting him here at the spaceport feels urgent.
So you’re in one of the lounge areas that’s afforded to pilots of Bodhi’s stature which, while a bit bougie, is at least quieter than the area you’d be in if you were waiting for a typical passenger. Still, your mind is buzzing with anxiety. You’ve been having nightmares, and as much as you hate to give them any of your energy, you won’t feel okay until you see Bodhi’s face. And he should have landed by now.
Your little C1 astromech chirps at you—a phrase that roughly translates to deep breath, you are safe.
“I know I’m safe, Cilvie,” you say. “I know he’s probably safe, too. It’s just a bad feeling.”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath anyway. When you open them Red is rolling toward you, your partner’s droid companion whistling in delight as he approaches. And not far behind him is Bodhi in his well-worn leather jacket, a sleepy smile on his face, his dark hair loose over his shoulders. He drops his duffel bag when he sees you. He knew you were coming, but he clearly didn’t expect tears upon his arrival.
“Stars, love, what’s wrong?” he asks, sweeping you into his arms. You hadn’t realized you were weeping until he was wiping your tears away.
“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all. I’m just so relieved.”
Cilvie warbles behind you in binary: scary sleep.
“Nightmares?” Bodhi asks. “Why didn’t you say anything? I figured you wanted to go out to dinner or something when you said you’d meet me here.”
“We could,” you say. “I didn’t want to scare you, I just felt so anxious when I woke up today—I needed to see you as soon as possible.”
Bodhi runs his fingers soft along your cheek. “I’m here, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
As he steps back and takes your hands, you realize he’s wearing nicer clothes than he’d usually wear to fly solo. Not dressed up, per se, but his slightly open collar and dark, tight-fitting jeans are typical attire for date night. You’re starting to feel a little guilty when Red whistles, suggesting he and Cilvie take a cab home so you and Bodhi can go out.
“It is a nice night,” you say. “We could go downtown?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You’ve made your way to the parking garage when Bodhi takes your face in his hands and kisses you, hungrily, as you both lean against his landspeeder in the quiet, nearly empty garage. On any other day, there would be dozens of beings coming and going, but by sheer luck you’ve been given this moment, and you savor it, tucking Bodhi’s hair behind his ears so you can see his face, his warm brown eyes, the bits of silver that have started to appear in his short beard.
An engine sputters, startling the both of you, and you laugh. Bodhi tosses his duffel into the back of the speeder.
“Where to?” he asks, taking your hand as you slide into the passenger seat.
With a flutter in your heart, you reply, “Anywhere you want.”
*
When you’d first come to Chandrila, you and Bodhi had resolved to give yourselves some new firsts, some landmark moments that hadn’t quite happened because your entire relationship had been spent moving between military bases and hidden fleets, sometimes unable to see each other at all. And given the chance to experience the nervous butterflies of a first date after years of being together—maybe it was strange, but it was also exciting.
You wore the jacket Bodhi had commissioned for you, the Chandrilan leather soft and perfectly fitted to your body—the nicest piece of clothing you’d ever owned. And as you rode downtown on his newly rebuilt speeder, you rested your head on the back of his shoulder, your arms around his middle, the smell of him both familiar and new as the fresh air of Hanna City swept past you both.
The sun wouldn’t set completely for a few hours, but downtown was already starting to bustle with weekend energy. You were lucky enough to find decent parking, and Bodhi took your hand as you began walking toward the harbor. Hanna City was entirely built around a port, and you never imagined yourself in a place like this, but your new home continued to grow on you.
“Come here, love,” Bodhi said, his hair tied up in a loose bun, fly-aways a bit wild from the ride downtown. “Let me see you in this light. You’re so beautiful.”
The sun was in the sky behind him, the light like a halo, and you couldn’t help but reach to touch his face, your hand cupping his bearded jaw before tucking a few wisps of hair behind his ear. He leaned in to steal a quick kiss, soft.
The sidewalk was growing busier by the second, and Bodhi guided you through the crowd to a little café. It was a bit of a hole-in-the-wall, but inside it was homey with lush green plants in every corner, chill pop music playing, and plush seating. Toward the back you found an empty corner booth where you sat side-by-side.
“This is nice,” you said. “I haven’t been here before.”
Bodhi pulled a drink menu from the center of the table and said, “Pao told me about it. I don’t know how, but he seems to know all the good places in this city, even though he arrived weeks after us.”
“I think sometimes he has a whole secret life,” you said, perusing the tea selection.
“You know,” Bodhi said, “I hope he does.”
Bodhi took your hand under the table, and it almost did feel like a first date—a first date with your best friend, his handsome face just inches from yours as you leaned in to kiss him before the wait staff could interrupt. This was a perfect moment in perfect lighting, the goose bumps on your arms a pleasant surprise as your lips brushed across his just once before you whispered in his ear:
“I love you so much.”
*
You’d meant to go back to that café where you’d spent your first date, only to arrive and find it was closed, and not just for tonight.
“Well, kriff,” Bodhi says. “I thought this place would always be here.”
You walk up close to the transparisteel door and peer inside, then step back to read the sign again. The place is closed, but not permanently.
“Bodhi,” you say. “It’s just for renovations. There’s construction stuff in there. Our booth might be gone, but the café will be back.”
Bodhi takes your hand and pulls you toward him. “Well that’s good,” he says. “This place will always be ours. Even if they bulldoze it and put in a tourist trinket shop.”
Another couple walks up to the door of the restaurant—they’re speaking in a language you’re unfamiliar with, but you imagine the conversation they’re having is similar to yours.
“Well, where should we go?” Bodhi asks.
“Let’s walk,” you said. “Maybe there’s something new. I haven’t been to this part of downtown for a while.”
“All right love,” Bodhi says.
And somehow this walk in itself is intimate, your hand in his as the two of you squeeze close to dodge other beings on this busy weekend night, a few stars above in the ink-black sky somehow visible despite the city lights.
You make it all the way down to the harbor, the salt smell of the ocean in the air, seabirds out late looking for the occasional scrap of fried fish or pastry from tourists. And just a few blocks down along the water is a food cart selling old-fashioned Chandrilan hand pies. You and Bodhi order and take your food to a park bench not far away. Towering over you is a monument to fallen heroes of the Alliance, unveiled at the park’s dedication years ago.
“I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you met me at the spaceport,” Bodhi says. “But I’m glad we came out.”
Soon, the night birds have started to sing in the trees and, despite the crowds of the city, you feel like you’ve landed in an impenetrable moment. This bench has become yours and Bodhi’s. And it’s just the two of you when you lean into your partner, his arm around you as the evening cools, your hand soft against his chest and then curling over his shoulder as he captures you lips with his, a kiss that somehow says everything you need to hear.
“I was so anxious before you got home,” you say. “But you always know how to bring me back from the dark.”
“Love,” he says. “I can’t think of anything that would keep me from coming home to you.”
When he kisses you again you can’t help but think of all the close calls he’d had, the times he almost didn’t return. About the monument not far from where you’re sitting carved with the names of so many who didn’t get to live this fairytale after the war, never got to see a peaceful galaxy, to kiss the person they loved on a perfect park bench by the ocean. And you are both so fortunate, not just to have survived but to have survived together.
You don’t have to say any this to Bodhi. He was at the doctor with you earlier this week trying to figure out why your chronic pain had been worse in recent months and whether it was related to exposure to a fuel spill while you were stationed on Hoth. And if your pain hadn’t spiked a few days ago, you’d have gone with Bodhi off-planet to see the Navy specialist who had installed his new leg after Scarif—the only doctor he trusts—about a possible adjustment to ease his own discomfort.
But even with your pain and your loss, you both get to have this moment. A moment you know you both savor not just for yourselves but for all the friends who never came home.
“Where did you go just now?” Bodhi asks, his fingertips tracing your jaw.
“I was just thinking,” you say, “about how we got here.”
There’s a stir in the trees as a flock of birds takes off into the night.
“How about I take you home, love?” Bodhi asks, letting his kiss linger on your temple. “I want to show you how much I missed you when I was away.”
*
You’d gone back to his place that night, after that “first” date. It was sparsely furnished, but Bodhi’s place smelled like him—that leathery, woodsy scent you’d become familiar with long before the first time he kissed you on base after Endor. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration—he did have a few photos on a bookshelf, a blanket over the back of the sofa, and Red’s potted plant collection was beginning to take up a little more space than any of you had anticipated.
“So how does this go?” you asked. “This is the first time I’ve come home with you, isn’t it?”
“You know, I have no idea how this goes,” Bodhi confessed. “Before I met you…it was the academy, and then Imperial bases and a lot of time in hyperspace alone.”
“Not a lot of going home with dates,” you said.
“Hard to do that when home is so in flux.”
Home. You suspected that Bodhi’s history with the idea of home was why his apartment still looked like he’d moved in last week rather than six months ago.
“Well,” you said, “we could go sit awkwardly on the sofa, put on a holofilm, and wait for someone to make a move.”
“Sounds enticing.”
“Or you could kiss me right now, because you’ve already waited so long for this moment that you can’t wait another second.”
So he kissed you, with the exact hunger you described—a genuine hunger as he cradled your face in his hands, the short hairs of his beard brushing your skin as you felt him smile. He shrugged out of his jacket, then helped you out of yours and you ran your hands over his chest, remembering the pleasant surprise the first time you’d seen Bodhi without a shirt, the muscular frame that was so often hidden under an ill-fitting flight suit or uniform.
With his strong arms around you he asked if you’d like to stay the night, and you answered with a kiss, stumbling along the hallway toward the bedroom. Gently, he undressed you, and you him, as he pressed kisses along your jaw, and then your neck and shoulder.
As you both slid under the sheets, you tucked a lock of hair that had come loose behind his ear and he said “You are so perfect, love. All of you. You are perfect and I adore you.”
As heat rushed to your cheeks you took his face in your hands and kissed him to keep yourself from crying. This was the fresh start he’d wanted, that you didn’t know you needed, too. And it was everything.
*
You wake to the sound of glass breaking, followed by Bodhi cursing and a warble from Cilvie. You’d been in a deep sleep, but you can’t help but smile as you slowly get out of bed and wrap yourself in a soft robe—an anniversary gift from earlier this year.
“Everything okay out here?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen where Cilvie is shooing Bodhi away so she can clear a shattered plate from the floor.
“Did I wake you, love?” Bodhi asks.
“Yeah,” you say. “But it’s okay. It’s late.”
Bodhi steps around the glass to take your hand. “I told her she doesn’t have to clean that up, but she always insists.”
Cilvie chirps in binary, something about organics being too easy to open.
Bodhi pulls you close, and past his shoulder you see Red in the yard, the little droid tending to his garden. Your head resting in the curve of Bodhi’s neck, you breathe deeply, the scent of recently ground caf beans mixing with the scent of him, a deep comfort on any morning, but especially now, after the nightmares you’d had while he was away.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, running his fingertips along your spine, a slow caress that he knows you enjoy. He kisses forehead, just the lightest brush of his lips.
You pull back to meet his gaze, the look of concern on his face familiar. “Kind of stiff,” you say, “but nothing I can’t manage. Better than before your trip.”
“That’s good," Bodhi says, “but I meant in here.” He taps his index finger tenderly against your temple.
“Oh. Yeah, I feel all right today.”
“No more nightmares?”
“None.”
“Good.”
Bodhi tilts your chin toward him and kisses you, slow and tender. “I made breakfast,” he says. “A bit of it ended up on the floor, but the rest should be salvageable.”
“I’m sure whatever you made is lovely,” you say. “And even if it weren’t, all I need right now is you.”
Bodhi has you pressed up against the refrigerator, one hand on your neck and he other tracing the curve of your thigh when Red comes through the door with a bowl of berries, freshly harvested.
“To be continued,” he whispers in your ear before turning to the little droid and taking the fruit from him.
As Bodhi finishes preparing breakfast you pour yourself a cup of caf, the love in your heart threatening to spill over. You take your caf out to the back patio, followed by Cilvie who mumbles something in binary. It takes you a minute to decipher but you realize she’s said lucky and home.
“Yes,” you say, “this is a lucky home. All of us.”
You give the droid a little pat and take a seat, still in awe at the sky that somehow delivered this to you. When you hear Bodhi’s voice from inside the house, you shiver just a little, a feeling of delight and wonder running through your body. Later today you will show him this wonder. But for now, you see him standing inside with a plate for you, a perfect smile on his face, waiting for you to join him—and there’s nothing in the galaxy that you’d rather do.
★★★★★★★★
Thank you so much for reading. I know it has been a bit of a wait, but I think it has been worth it. I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved.
Prompt number: 5, “I might just kiss you.”
Fandom: Star Wars (All Media)
Warnings/Rating: None/G
Word count: 100
The festive fires were dwindling into embers. Most of the battle’s heroes dreamt in celebratory stupors. Han and Leia had long since snuck away. Only Skywalker was left, standing alone near the village Gemwood tree. He’d survived—but was changed.
Lando walked over, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Go get some sleep.”
“And if I don’t?” The Jedi sounded amused at the order.
“I might just kiss you.”
Luke laughed. A good sound.
“All right, I’m going, I’m going.”
Watching the young man’s black-clad back disappear into the hut, Lando had to admit it hadn’t been an idle threat.
for the hint of a spark by Anonymous - (gen, complete, luke + leia, leia + anakin's ghost)
My first thought upon finishing this was: holy shit this is incredible. Fire and water, earth and lightning, Leia's love for Luke and hatred of their father, dreams and desperation and working through the helplessness of watching those we love suffer - it's all here in stunning prose. Highly recommended.
Architecture (noun) - a unifying or coherent form or structure
Endor morning after fic. For the first time in his life, Luke Skywalker has nothing to do. With no farming, piloting, or Jedi student schedule to keep him busy, Luke has no idea where his life goes after the war.
Fortunately, Han and Leia are here to lay down some ground rules.
Read on AO3 (with more/better description): https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602675
Or here:
For the first time in his life, Luke Skywalker had nothing to do.
There were no farm chores waiting for him. No plans with Biggs and his friends. His name wasn’t on any Alliance duty roster, and there was no Jedi Master waiting just outside for his student to get up, get ready to train.
The sun shining through the window of the tree hut was too low and too orange for morning. How long had he been sleeping, anyway?
It didn’t really matter. He had no plans.
Luke stretched, and his boots hit the far wall. He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. His entire body ached. That wasn’t really surprising. He was more surprised to be alive.
The hut wasn’t tall enough for Luke to stand up in, so he half-crawled his way to the door. Outside, the Ewoks were cleaning up what was left of the previous night's party. Han, Leia, Lando, Wedge… they were down there too, somewhere.
Luke didn’t try to find them. He felt the Force touch him, but the thought of drawing on it made his stomach turn. It made him remember the way he’d felt when Vader… no. He couldn’t blame Vader for that one. Luke had touched the Dark Side on his own.
Each step down the rope ladder was agony. His back, his shoulders, his arms—everything throbbed. If Leia saw him like this, she’d probably drag him to a med center. But her presence was there , safely far in the depths of the village, as he made his own way slowly through the woods.
There was a stream here, a little burble of cold water that was deep enough to scoop water out of but not really deep enough to bathe in or swim. Luke took his shoes and socks off, stuck his feet into the water. It was freezing. He leaned back on his hands, looked up at the sky, and just focused on the cold.
He wasn’t really sure if he was blinking, or even breathing. His mind was blank. He was numb. From the cold or just… the nothing.
He had no idea where he’d go from here.
Time passed. He didn’t really know how long. He wasn’t even sure if it was nice to feel nothing. Or maybe he was just feeling too much, all at once.
Luke didn’t expect to hear Leia’s voice behind him. Even when he did, when he finally registered that it wasn’t just a dream, all he could do was look up and smile sheepishly. He’d been so lost in… whatever this was, that he hadn’t even heard what she said.
She frowned down at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Luke pulled his feet out of the water, shook his head. “I was just… thinking, I guess.”
Worry creased Leia’s forehead as she shouted back into the forest. “Han! I found him. Over here.”
Luke knew it wasn’t right for his heart to ache like this, when Han appeared out of the forest at Leia’s side. This was how it had to be now. Han and Leia. And Luke, and the water, and the sky.
It had always been the three of them before—two at a time, at first, fumbled kisses and half-drunk confessions. It wasn’t just physical, though. They were a family. And little by little, it had started to be the three of them. It was after Hoth, he guessed, that that had changed.
Leia had told him that she and Han had slept together, on Bespin. It seemed strange now, that Luke had been relieved. He hadn’t wanted it to be him and Han, without Leia. And he hadn’t wanted Leia without Han. It hadn’t really been an issue back then, that he was left out—he’d been in no shape physically or mentally for anything more than innocent kisses on cheeks or foreheads. And it wouldn’t have felt right with Han gone, anyway.
Still, he’d thought that once they got back together, once the war was finally over, once they’d won… He’d thought that, just maybe, there could be a future with all three of them together.
But he was a Jedi now, whatever that meant. And they were… Leia and Han.
“Hey.” Han gave him a shy smirk, and looked down for a second at his shoes.
When he looked up, Luke made a point of meeting his gaze. Being awkward wouldn’t make this any better. He had to give them his blessing, and move on.
“So, me and Leia, we were thinking,” Han said, “that we ought to lay down some ground rules, you know? For how things are gonna be from now on.”
Leia bit her lip. “I told him, Luke. About us. About… our father.”
“That’s fine. I don't mind.”
The answer came too quickly. He meant it, and he didn’t. It was her secret to tell, too, after all.
“And... we talked about it,” Leia went on. “About other things, too. We were up all night, just talking about the future. About what this means for the galaxy. And for us.”
Luke shook his head. “It...it’s fine, really. I don’t… I mean, I’ll be busy, right? Passing on the ways of the Jedi, and all. I’m happy for you,” he said, and tried to stand on shaking legs that burned down to his feet, which were numb.
Leia gave Han a questioning look, and Han stepped forward, offering Luke his hand.
“Rule one,” Han said, pulling Luke to his feet, even though he had to be just as exhausted. “You take care of yourself.”
Luke opened his mouth to protest, but Han shook his head.
“No running off without telling me or Leia where you’re going. No freezing yourself to death. Once is enough.”
“I’m not…” Luke began, but his teeth were chattering.
“Yes. You are.” Han pointedly looked at his bare feet, his dripping pants. His ass was wet too, from the grass, and Han gave his hand a pointed look. “Okay if I take this off?”
Luke nodded, and Han peeled off the soaked-through glove.
It was maybe the first time Han had really seen his prosthesis. He’d still been half-blind when they left Tatooine. Luke look a deep breath, steeled himself for an awkward reaction. But Han just brushed his lips against Luke’s knuckles, and said “You get this fixed, okay? And until you do, no water. You’re gonna short circuit or something if you’re not careful. And, uh..." He ruffled Luke's hair. "Maybe find a comb or something, okay?"
He dropped Luke’s hand and turned to Leia. “And you. You may be a big deal in this Rebellion, or... legitimate government or whatever it is now, but you better make time for me and Luke, here. Take care of yourself. Let your hair down more than once every three years. Don’t let politics and war be everything you’ve got.”
“Fine,” Leia answered. “But only if I get some rules too. No running off? That goes double—no, triple —for you, Han. No running off. We’re a family. For good.”
She turned to Luke. “I know this is... a lot to handle. And I don't know what happened on the Death Star. But I need you... to be my brother, Luke.”
Luke’s mouth fell open, but he couldn’t find the words. It wasn't that he didn't want that, it was just...
“Shhh.” Leia pressed a finger to his lips. “I need a brother. But I also… I need you to be more. I’m not really sure how this works.” She gave him a tired smile. “But it works. Somehow. It does.”
“It works,” Luke echoed.
Han nodded. “Yeah. It does.”
A silence fell over the stream and the clearing; just the burble of water remained. Luke suddenly wished he hadn’t taken his shoes off. The sun was going down, the air cool.
“So… I get rules, too, right?” His voice was softer, more hesitant than he intended. “I… don’t really know what happens next. I really only looked as far as… as Vader, and the Emperor. I wasn’t really expecting to live. But I’m glad I did.”
“Han,” he said. “You keep being stubborn. Keep reminding me there’s a world outside the Force and the Jedi. Keep reminding us—me and Leia both—how to live. Really live, you know? Keep the Falcon in the family. Who knows when we’ll need her? And tell me if I get too cocky, okay?
“And Leia.” He turned to her. “My sister… and more. Don’t forget this.” He gestured to the forest around them. “Don’t forget that it’s thanks to your kindness we didn’t become an Ewok feast. Never forget, there’s good in everyone. Even Vader. And... be my first student. I don’t know if I’ll be a good teacher. But you can teach me, too. We’ll learn together.” He looked to Han, including him in this last."
“I came out here… because I don’t know how to live.. after. Everything’s changed. We won, but we lost.”
Leia nodded at this; Han just gave a smirking half smile.
Luke went on: “I don’t really even know who I am now. I don’t know what kind of Jedi I’ll become. But the only rule that really matters is, we do it together….”
It seemed like there ought to be more. Some grand statement. But his voice trailed off.
Han nodded. “We do it together.”
“We do it together.” Leia held out her arms.
And the three of them embraced, as they had a hundred times before. And as they would, a million times to come.
Drabble - Kingston Taylor (original character in the Star Wars universe)
She wove through the crush of personnel in the hangar, swearing under her breath. One of her pilots flashed a thumbs-up to her and she gestured back as she headed for the far side of the hangar, toward the spot where an A-Wing had skidded to a halt against a wall. Word was that they’d pulled the pilot out and that he was still alive, but she wanted to see both for herself.
If it was the one she’d talked down—
You already know that it is.
Kingston Taylor stopped, eyes closing for a moment. She needed to get a hold of herself. Spinning out of control wasn’t going to do her or anyone else any good. They’d already come close enough to that even before the battle had started—it didn’t make any sense to come unglued now that it had ended. Her people were fine—minor injuries only—unless you counted Tag. Rendar wasn’t one of her people, though, and she was confident the crew aboard the Echo had their young captain and whatever had happened to her well in hand. She had to hope they did, at least.
Bridger was with her. Everything will be fine. Nothing to worry about there.
The other Bridger, her XO, had just given birth. A terrible time for that, but it would have been worse if she’d been allowed anywhere near an X-Wing at the time. Her husband had stepped in to fill her slot in the squadron, though Amber had stepped up to fill the hole as XO in Infinity’s absence. The girl had promise—on that, more than one person had agreed.
She took a slow, deep breath and let her gaze sweep the cruiser’s massive hangar. She could see the A-wing—what was left of it—on the deck ahead.
Kingston shook her head and walked out of the hangar.
The pilot would be in medical, and the pilot, not his ship, was her real concern.
• • •
Everything smelled like bacta and blood and it turned her stomach. Sickbay aboard the Home One was packed, too packed, too many bodies, too many people, too much pain—
Calm down.
Kingston sucked in a breath and exhaled it slowly, willing her heart to slow down and her stomach to stay firmly in place. How long it would obey her remained to be seen.
She grabbed the arm of one of the medics that passed. “The pilot from Green Squadron, the one that crash-landed his A-Wing in bay three. Where is he?”
The medic pointed. “Along the wall, human in the second bed. ‘cuse me, Captain.”
Kingston let the medic go and started off in the direction he’d indicated. She could see the pilot now, recognized his face—she’d seen him before, in snatches and in passing, before the battle. A young man, though she was hardly old herself. It was more than that, though. She knew his face from holovids, though he’d been even younger in those, a little sullen, a teenager trapped into his father’s political machine.
Robert Drake. The senator’s son.
It didn’t matter who he’d been, though. Now he was a fellow pilot, one who probably needed a friend. He’d lost his wingman and that was never an easy thing to deal with.
She grabbed a stool and dragged it up to his bedside. Drake was asleep, but the Ice Captain would be there when he woke up.
