Han glances at Leia again. If he doesn’t stop that she’s going to kriffing stab him with her scuttleclaw knife. Which would be a shame because she’d rather use it to eat the scuttleclaw. She doesn’t get enough of them now that they’re not in season in this part of the galaxy and she wants to savour the thing. Instead Han just keeps looking at her from the other side of the table like she’s going to disappear. She is not. Not while there is still scuttleclaw on her plate and dessert to come. She glares at Han. He turns his attention back to his plate and grimaces. Good. Now he’s the uncomfortable one.
How they make it to the end of the banquet she doesn’t know but she manages to only use her cutlery for eating. If someone does not get him out of her line of sight soon, however, there might just be an incident. The band starts up, a lovely jazzy tune that she recognises from the galas of her youth. Men and women up and down the table rise and take to the floor. She remains reclined by the table. Han looks at her and her fingers clench on her dessert fork. She turns. Her brother sits beside her, failing to suppress his smirk.
‘Get him out of my sight before I stick this through his kriffing eyeball.’
Luke, the buffoon, just smiles wider and stands.
‘As you wish, sister dear.’
Leia growls and Han nearly stumbles over his tongue asking if there’s anything she needs. She rolls her eyes and pins him with the glare that made grown senators quake before her.
‘Go away. Just leave me be.’
‘But…’
‘I am not an invalid.’
He assures her that he knows that, he never meant to insinuate that, and isn’t there something he can do. Luke rescues him with a firm hand on the elbow, dragging him from the table and into the crowd. Leia sighs and rolls her aching shoulders. Is that sherbet across the table? She’s glad she kept ahold of her cutlery now.
***
‘What did I do, Luke? I don’t understand.’
Luke grins at him. Han can tell he’s laughing even if he’s not doing it out loud. Kriffing nerf herder. Is it such a terrible thing to worry over his pregnant wife? He can’t see how.
‘Come on,’ Luke’s tugging at him again, ‘You need to relax a bit before you go back or she might actually get violent.’
It’s sensible advice but he wants none of it. He’s a galaxy class smuggler damn it and he will not be dragged around by this little desert boy. Except he will of course. The boy’s his brother by law now but it’s not like he hadn’t cared already. He growls and lets Luke drag him onto the dance floor, eyes sparkling. He resists the urge to scrub his hair until it sticks up even worse.
‘C’mon, old man. I know you’ve got some moves in there somewhere.’
This time he does growl, but he’s fighting a grin and he can see Luke knows it. He grabs the squirt by the waist and hauls him in, ready for a good old fashioned samba when the song changes. This one is slower and sadder and suddenly he’s got Luke in his arms, pressed against his chest. Han’s not sure but he thinks he might be crying.
‘Hey, kid, c’mon now. What’s the matter.’
Luke glances up and his eyelashes are wet.
‘It sounds like the Force. After Alderaan. They’re mourning.’
Han coughs a bit and it’s not because he’s tearing up. It’s not. He clears his throat.
‘Back on Corellia, there was this tradition. When you lost someone to the deep space, when there wasn’t no body left to lay to rest, we’d light a fire and we’d dance. We’d dance to remember.’
He clears his throat again and loops one arm around the kid’s waist and rests the other one on his shoulder. Slowly Luke straightens up and gets himself in roughly the right position. Han steps forward, Luke steps back and they join the music in swirling about the room. Han can see the tears rolling freely down Luke’s cheeks and there’s some awful dust in his own eyes.
They spin and step and loop for eons in the midst of the crowd before the music builds to a last shattering crescendo and then drops softly to swim around their feet before fading away. Han clears his throat and rubs at his stinging eyes. Drat all that kriffing dust anyway. Luke just steps forward and embraces him, clinging until he can let go looking slightly more put together. Han stands still.
Eventually, a lighter, brighter tune begins to fill the space and they retreat from the floor to seek out Leia. They join hands with her and soothe her as she sheds her own few tears. Then they laugh together as Leia brandishes her spoon at her husband.
Re: Han, Luke- Platonic Slow Dancing, friendship WARNING: Kinda sad?
How they make it to the end of the banquet she doesn’t know but she manages to only use her cutlery for eating. If someone does not get him out of her line of sight soon, however, there might just be an incident. The band starts up, a lovely jazzy tune that she recognises from the galas of her youth. Men and women up and down the table rise and take to the floor. She remains reclined by the table. Han looks at her and her fingers clench on her dessert fork. She turns. Her brother sits beside her, failing to suppress his smirk.
‘Get him out of my sight before I stick this through his kriffing eyeball.’
Luke, the buffoon, just smiles wider and stands.
‘As you wish, sister dear.’
Leia growls and Han nearly stumbles over his tongue asking if there’s anything she needs. She rolls her eyes and pins him with the glare that made grown senators quake before her.
‘Go away. Just leave me be.’
‘But…’
‘I am not an invalid.’
He assures her that he knows that, he never meant to insinuate that, and isn’t there something he can do. Luke rescues him with a firm hand on the elbow, dragging him from the table and into the crowd. Leia sighs and rolls her aching shoulders. Is that sherbet across the table? She’s glad she kept ahold of her cutlery now.
‘What did I do, Luke? I don’t understand.’
Luke grins at him. Han can tell he’s laughing even if he’s not doing it out loud. Kriffing nerf herder. Is it such a terrible thing to worry over his pregnant wife? He can’t see how.
‘Come on,’ Luke’s tugging at him again, ‘You need to relax a bit before you go back or she might actually get violent.’
It’s sensible advice but he wants none of it. He’s a galaxy class smuggler damn it and he will not be dragged around by this little desert boy. Except he will of course. The boy’s his brother by law now but it’s not like he hadn’t cared already. He growls and lets Luke drag him onto the dance floor, eyes sparkling. He resists the urge to scrub his hair until it sticks up even worse.
‘C’mon, old man. I know you’ve got some moves in there somewhere.’
This time he does growl, but he’s fighting a grin and he can see Luke knows it. He grabs the squirt by the waist and hauls him in, ready for a good old fashioned samba when the song changes. This one is slower and sadder and suddenly he’s got Luke in his arms, pressed against his chest. Han’s not sure but he thinks he might be crying.
‘Hey, kid, c’mon now. What’s the matter.’
Luke glances up and his eyelashes are wet.
‘It sounds like the Force. After Alderaan. They’re mourning.’
Han coughs a bit and it’s not because he’s tearing up. It’s not. He clears his throat.
‘Back on Corellia, there was this tradition. When you lost someone to the deep space, when there wasn’t no body left to lay to rest, we’d light a fire and we’d dance. We’d dance to remember.’
He clears his throat again and loops one arm around the kid’s waist and rests the other one on his shoulder. Slowly Luke straightens up and gets himself in roughly the right position. Han steps forward, Luke steps back and they join the music in swirling about the room. Han can see the tears rolling freely down Luke’s cheeks and there’s some awful dust in his own eyes.
They spin and step and loop for eons in the midst of the crowd before the music builds to a last shattering crescendo and then drops softly to swim around their feet before fading away. Han clears his throat and rubs at his stinging eyes. Drat all that kriffing dust anyway. Luke just steps forward and embraces him, clinging until he can let go looking slightly more put together. Han stands still.
Eventually, a lighter, brighter tune begins to fill the space and they retreat from the floor to seek out Leia. They join hands with her and soothe her as she sheds her own few tears. Then they laugh together as Leia brandishes her spoon at her husband.