Wedge finds Red Five – Luke Skywalker – by calling in a personal favor with Commander Willard after the battle.
It’s the sort of quiet now that leaves a guy’s nerves raw, that eats at the soldiers on the base until they find an outlet for all of the excess energy, and the rage at the many pointless deaths of todays battle. Wedge isn’t quite there yet, it hasn’t sunken in, but he feels driven nonetheless, like he’s under so much pressure he might crack. It’s threatening to split his head.
The door to Skywalker’s quarters is half open when Wedge gets there, and Wedge wonders about that particularity. Where he comes from, privacy is a highly valued good, which just tells him that he doesn’t know all that much about Skywalker.
Well, okay, maybe a little.
He knocks politely – a quiet rapping of fingers against the half open door. He can see the figure of Skywalker sitting on the bunk, his head bent downwards, but it snaps up when he hears the noise. He’s still wearing half of that pilot suit, tied around his waist. His hair is a mess from the helmet.
Wedge knows he himself looks quite similar.
“Who is this?” Luke calls, apparently aiming for a polite inquiry and landing somewhere between disgruntled and downright hostile. After what they just went through, it’s no wonder. It must have been quite something, coming off that adrenaline high, Wedge thinks.
Which okay. Kind of why he’s here. His palms feel sweaty, and he balls his hands into fists and relaxes them again.
“It’s me,” Wedge says, “Antilles, Wedge Antilles, you remember me?”
“Hey, Wedge, of course!” Luke gets up from the bed, sounding exhausted but earnestly pleased. “Come in, sorry. I’m just a bit tired.”
He smiles at Wedge as he lets him in. Wedge passes in front of him, just barely brushing Luke’s shoulder as he enters the small room. Luke closes the door firmly behind him.
“Well, you’ve got every right to be, after a battle like this.”
There is a chair next to a small table, much the same as in Wedge’s quarters, and Wedge forces himself to sit down and not fidget. Luke seems curious with his wide open eyes and cocked head, but sits down on the bedside closer to Wedge.
“I don’t even know what to do. I can’t even sleep, it’s all still so…”
Wedge smiles a crooked smile.
“…raw,” he offers, and Luke nods with surprise.
“I know all about that,” Wedge says, leaning forward just so. He catches Luke swallowing; realizes he’s been staring. Forces himself to look up at Luke’s face, even though it’s harder.
Luke shifts on the bed. “You were really good today. How long have you been doing this?”
“Longer than I care to admit,” Wedge says with a huff, “But believe me, no kind of experience could have prepared me for this.”
He holds out his hand, palm flat and turned towards the floor. It’s shaking just so.
“Nerves, you see? I couldn’t have made that shot, not in a million years. You were a goddamn miracle, if I’ve ever seen one.”
And he keeps his eyes on Luke for every single one of these words, just to see what he’ll do. Luke stares back like it’s a challenge.
“I had faith,” Luke says like that explains everything. “It’s like… I knew what to do. It wasn’t even a question of how or when, I just knew the moment when it presented itself to me.”
He shakes his head.
“That’s the adrenaline talking, sorry. I really don’t know… it already seems so far away.”
“Like it didn’t really happen to us,” Wedge agrees. Shifts on the chair so he is sitting closer to Luke. This time, Luke picks up on it.
“Yeah, I… I guess.”
He looks Wedge up and down. “Is there a specific reason you were looking for me?”
Wedge plasters that smile onto his face, the one that has worked for him in every space bar from here to the core systems. Uncrosses his legs, runs a hand through his hair.
Oh, boy, he definitely didn’t read this kid wrong. Luke shifts, swallows again, and doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They end up running up and down his upper legs nervously, smoothing out the fabric of the bright orange flight suit. Wedge likes how it clashes terribly with everything about Luke.
“You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want,” Wedge says quickly, because he might be a big fan of post battle sex as stress relief but not everyone is, and as much as he fancies Luke right now, that shouldn’t take precedence. “I’m just offering.”
“Yeah, and I…”
Luke seems really tempted to finish that sentence for a moment, opening and closing his mouth around words Wedge never gets to hear, but then he suddenly surges forward and grabs a handful of Wedge’s undershirt to haul him close and kiss him – a close-mouthed press of lips, but Wedge sneaks a hand around the back of Luke’s head and keeps him there, dragging the kiss out purposefully until he can feel Luke shiver. Then he slowly opens his mouth, coaxing Luke to do the same, and licks inside.
Luke lets out a whine that runs through Wedge’s very core. His hands, still fisted in Wedge’s undershirt, slowly uncurl themselves to run up and down Wedge’s chest. Wedge is sure Luke can feel his erratic heartbeat through the thin fabric.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, but keeps his hand at the back of Luke’s neck, his thumb stroking up and down.
He suddenly realizes Luke is crying.
Luke lets go of him with one hand, wiping the tears away with the back of it. “Nothing, it’s nothing…”
“Hey.” Wedge takes Luke’s hand with his other. Makes no more advances but keeps him close. Whatever it is – he’s willing to listen. That realization alone is a surprise to Wedge. “You can tell me.”
There’s a kind of determination on Luke’s face that Wedge only catches a brief glimpse of as Luke surges forward to press a rather more heated kiss to Wedge’s lips. Wedge groans – he’s already half hard as it is, and Luke’s clear if sometimes clumsy advances do little to help with that – but Luke’s cheeks are still wet against Wedge’s, and he’s determined to get behind this before he proceeds. He slows the kiss down, moving more deliberately, kissing until Luke is little more than panting into Wedge’s open mouth, and Wedge can break away.
“What is it?”
“Biggs,” Luke manages to get out, but his voice breaks again and he shudders, turning his face away so Wedge can’t see new tears welling up. “He was…”
Oh. Wedge stops himself short of slapping a hand on his mouth, mostly because both are still preoccupied with holding Luke, hanging half off the bed and half in Wedge’s lap, crying because he lost… someone. Someone very close to him, apparently.
“Were you two…?” he says, but doesn’t want to come across as insensitive. He can’t say more, it’s making his mouth dry and his eyes itch as well.
Luke nods. “Yeah, before… He left, and I couldn’t, and it was all…”
Another shudder. Wedge still can’t see Luke’s face, but he keeps his thumb stroking the back of Luke’s head, trying to be a comfort for… whatever this is. He’s never had to deal with something quite like it before.
“Hey, like I said, we don’t have to…”
Luke surges up suddenly, pulling Wedge off the chair with him. He stands a little bit shorter than Wedge, but not by much. He wears that look again, brows furrowed, stubbornly determined, even though his eyes are read from crying.
“No, I want to,” Luke says, “I don’t even… I can’t do anything, anyway. He’s gone.”
And then he steps up into Wedge’s space and tugs him into another kiss, this one leaving no doubt about where this is going. Wedge lets go of Luke’s hand to move his arm around Luke’s waist, pulling him in, and Luke groans into Wedge’s open mouth at their groins moving together. Wedge feels it from the tips of his toes to his hairline, it sets him on fire and he’s still on edge from all of the tension of the day.
If this is what Luke wants, then okay. Wedge can’t really call him out on it. More than that – he’ll happily oblige.
He maneuvers Luke against the wall, trapping him between Wedge’s body and the permacrete. Luke seems determined to steal his breath, his hands moving deftly to untie the jumpsuit around Wedge’s waist as Wedge is busy kissing a very visible way down Luke’s neck. Occasionally, he can feel Luke shiver as he hits a sensitive spot, but it’s only fair because with the way Luke is brushing his hand against Wedge’s groin, he’s now fully hard.
Wedge pulls back to catch his breath for a moment. Luke before him looks beautifully disheveled, eyes half closed and his mouth red from kissing, but there’s still a crease in his forehead, and that in turn makes Wedge frown. That is no way to do this.
He dips his head back into the crook of Luke’s neck, kissing one of the spots he remembers making Luke shiver, and biting down gently. Luke takes in a sharp breath at that, something that still sounds like a choked of sob but on the way to something more like pleasure. Wedge does it again, and gets Luke’s hands down his pants for his trouble, taking a hold of Wedge’s dick and giving it a firm stroke. Wedge’s knees buckle.
“Come on,” Luke hisses out, and Wedge chuckles. “Alright.”
He steps back a bit unties Luke’s jumpsuit, pulls down the front just enough. Gives Luke a cocky grin before leaning in to kiss him again, sucking Luke’s bottom lip into his mouth and while Luke is distracted from that, brushing his dick for the first time. Luke groans against Wedge’s mouth, and Wedge takes a proper hold of Luke’s dick, stroking it once, twice, before bringing both of their dicks together and taking them both in hand. At that point, it’s as if Luke completely forgets to kiss back, and just closes his eyes and opens his mouth, panting, as Wedge strokes them together. He uses his other arm to sneak around Luke’s lower back to hold him up, bringing their bodies as close together as the mechanics of this will allow them. Luke breaks the kiss to press his forehead against Wedge’s shoulder.
Tonight, it seems, Wedge is nothing but obliging. He can hear himself cry out as he speeds up, matching Luke’s sharp gasps and short intakes of breath. Luke’s entire body trembles, and Wedge isn’t sure if Luke his sweating or crying into his shoulder. His thumb is moving soothing circles into Luke’s lower back.
“Don’t worry,” he mutters, his voice a hoarse groan more than real words, and he doesn’t even know why he says it but feels Luke sob for real this time, then shudder violently, and release. As he comes, he bites down on Wedge’s shoulder and Wedge cries out, not expecting the sharp sting of teeth, the stimulation suddenly too much. He comes with a quiet gasp, tightening his hold around Luke’s back.
They stand like this, catching their breaths, for what can’t be more than a minute but what feels like a small eternity. Wedge lets go of both of them, helping Luke to climb out of his jumpsuit and then climbing out of his own, stripping them both of their undershirts and tossing them in a corner to clean up later. He coaxes Luke to lie down on his bed, and then, after a moment of short hesitation, climbs in behind him.
He brings an arm around Luke’s waist, and Luke’s body is warm and fits snugly against his. Wedge pulls up the covers over them, and for a while they say nothing.
“He was my best friend,” Luke finally says, “But he was so much more. We never talked about it, but it was always… there; he was always there and now he isn’t.”
He inhales pointedly, focusing on the steady in and out of the rhythm. Wedge can feel every intake against his own chest, matches his breathing to Luke’s almost subconsciously.
“I’m sorry. I knew him for a short while, and he was a genuinely good man.”
Luke nods. “He was.”
Wedge thinks he should probably find it strange that they’re lying in bed naked, talking about Luke’s dead boyfriend or whatever the hell Biggs was to him, but can only find that if that’s what Luke needs, he’s willing to give it. Somehow he made a snap decision when he saw how broken Luke looked, alone in his room. He felt he could relate.
So he pulls Luke closer, revels in the feel of their bodies against each other, and says nothing more. If it’s comfort Luke is looking for, Wedge can give that. He closes his eyes, and breathes, and smells Luke and the scent of the fabric softener on the sheets. It’s warm under the blanket and with Luke by his side.