A drabble of married life
Somewhere in the future of Empire Reimagined when Sola and Firmus are married about a year:
"Hello, Max," Sola said, glancing up at Veers as the Lady admitted him to the Admiral's quarters with no ceremony as was her wont.
He'd been concerned at this for a little while after his dearest friend and brother married into the Skywalker insanity. Well. Nearest relation to it---but that was semantics.
Piett was in some odd way now the brother in law of Lord Vader, and Max was not going to stop enjoying that.
However.
Having been married once himself to the best woman in the galaxy, Max had some of the social niceties still programmed in his psyche. He didn't ever want to just barge into Piett's quarters as he had when Firmus was single.
He'd mentioned this to the Admiral who merely grinned and slapped his back. "The Lady would never let you in to an awkward situation, Max, I promise."
There was something delightfully more assured about Piett now. Something in his soul had been healed---something that not even the Princess or Max or Scraps had been able to reach, much as they loved him.
His accent slipped out more often. His sense of humor as well. Veers could only bask happily in this change.
And if he thought that perhaps Piett would not have quite as much time for their friendship as before, he was sorely mistaken.
Sola was cross legged on the sofa, her rich hair in a loose bun and strands wisping over her cheeks as she tapped at something on a datapad. A bottle of wine was on the table before her and her glass was half full.
"Perfect timing," she said, gesturing to this. He realized that there were two empty glass waiting to be filled.
Two.
"Get comfortable," she told him, rising and trotting to the galley in her socks to start the kettle. "If you're here, Firmus won't be far behind."
"Sola..." Veers said, unlatching his jacket and shrugging it off. "If I'm ever being a nuisance, I hope you and I can be honest enough to---"
She turned to lean against the counter and raise an eyebrow at him.
Kark.
There were times she was eerily like her niece.
"You are my brother in law in all ways that matter, Max," she told him calmly. "And I have yet to hear even a fraction of the stories that involve you saving my husband's life. You are ALWAYS welcome. And wanted."
Warmth filled his chest.
"Do...you always put out three glasses?" he asked curiously as he seated himself to draw off his boots with a sigh.
"Yes," she answered easily. "I know the habits you two had. I have no intention of taking that from you. I'm just adding myself to it."
She grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Longing swept him and Sola must have seen the change in his face.
"Max?"
"Just..."
The doors hissed open to admit the Admiral who was followed by a galley droid with a generous tray.
"Did you order this, Sola?" he asked, gesturing to the little droid as it beeped happily into the center of the living area. "it followed me here."
"Naturally," she replied, crossing easily to Piett. "You are utter rubbish at meals."
"Henley tell you that?" Piett grumbled, removing his cap. "Because---"
She stopped his mouth with her own and Max enjoyed the predictable flush on his friend's cheekbones as she released him with a gentle pat to his chest.
"No actually," she replied, plucking his cap from his fingers and drawing him to the sofa so he could also remove his boots.
Piett shot a look to the ceiling. "You and the Lady conspiring again?"
"Maybe," Sola said, pouring two more glasses of wine and turning to lift the tray from the galley droid. It beeped and zipped back out, clearly proud of itself. "But Max was about to tell me something."
It was Veers' turn to feel self conscious.
"Oh...it was nothing, Sola."
Piett knew him too well and turned that penetrating hazel gaze upon the General.
"Doesn't sound like nothing, Max," he said calmly, slinging an arm easily around his wife and picking up a wine glass. Veers reached for his own to cover his feelings.
"I was...just being envious, Firmus," he said, sitting back and waving a nonchalant hand. "That's all. Nothing to worry about."
There was a beat.
The Pietts watched him with almost identical looks of concern.
"It's our joy and delight to worry about you, General," Sola said softly as she took a drink, those blue eyes piercing him over the rim of her glass.
And they meant it to their core. He knew this. So he sighed.
"I was just wishing before you entered, Piett, that...that Myra could have met you both. I just---ah---you have a lot in common, Sola."
She smiled.
"That's one of the nicest compliments I've ever been given."
The Admiral, who knew Veers' scars here well, raised his glass. "I wish that too, friend of mine," he said gently. "She had the very good taste to marry the best man I know after all."
Veers allowed his mouth to curl then, gratitude for them both filling him.
"A good principle," Sola agreed, snuggling in close to Piett's side, eliciting a contented grunt from her husband. "To marry the best man one knows. I did."
Max chuckled. "No argument there, Sola," he replied, leaning over to lift the cover of the tray and releasing fragrant scents.
And the wine was rich while the friendship was richer.