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The Death Star was destroyed. Pieces of its mangled corpse fell across the moon of Endor’s sky in a shower of molten fire. The barrage of rubble danced to the tune of thousands of cheers ringing through the air.
Not everyone felt the exact same sentiment. Han and Leia’s dearest friend, Luke, had been on the weaponized station, but uncertainty lingered between them as to whether or not he made it safely out before its demise.
“I'm sure Luke wasn't on that thing when it blew,” Han promised beneath his breath. It was just as much of an affirmation for himself as it was for the princess.
Leia nodded her head shallowly. With a small smile, she replied, “He wasn’t. I can feel it-”
“Whoa! Hey,” Luke interrupted sharply. He waved his hand frantically before pointing a finger at his twin sister. “Force check. You can't know that yet.”
Leia groaned. Han could almost see the girl restraining herself from smashing her forehead against the top of the card table. Flimsy as it was, Han was sure it would topple over if her frustration spilled into physical aggression, along with their dice, their character sheets and the tiny models Luke painstakingly arranged for them. For that, Han was grateful for what passed as her patience.
“How come Han didn’t have to roll a check?” The edge of her question was as hard as stone. Han wasn’t sure he liked the way she emphasized his name, drawing it out passed its first syllable mockingly.
Luke shook his head. “He wasn’t using the force, he was just trying to reassure you.”
Leia leaned back against her plastic seat. Twin arms crossed in front of her chest. “How do you know I wasn’t trying to reassure him?”
“Were you?” The knowing twinkle in his eye grew brighter. A wicked smirk spread to the corners of his lips. Although it wasn’t wise to antagonize his sister, he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in doing so.
Leia paused for a long moment. The girl’s eyes drifted to the members of their group, which included her father, stepfather, Lando, Chewie, Han, and Luke. She pursed her lips. “No,” she finally admitted as her mouth twisted into a reluctant little smile.
“Then you roll that d20, missy,” Luke commanded. For emphasis, he lifted the die that had, at one point, rolled over to his side of the table and placed it in front of her. The dull clack of its blunt end echoed throughout the small basement, adding insult to injury.
Leia plucked the pink sphere, gave it a shake within her fist, and allowed it to fall onto the table. At the end of its brief tumble, it displayed a score of “18”. “There,” she cried out her triumph.
Luke gave a short, adorable snort. “Alright then. Using your force sensitivity, you realize that you can still feel Luke Skywalker’s presence. He must be safe.”
With a theatrical clearing of her throat, she looked to Han and repeated, “He wasn’t. I can feel it”
Han nodded to acknowledge her, but said nothing else.
For an agonizing moment, an eerie silence filled the space between the table, only cut by the occasional groaning of a pipe. Discomfort quickly made its presence known. For further direction to alleviate the issue, Han glanced at his Dungeon Master, whose smile had all but disappeared. In turn, his attention was directed solely on Han. His concentrated baby-blue stare was as curious as it was expectant.
The older man suppressed a sigh; the kid was persuasive even without uttering a single word. His eyes shifted back to Leia.
What could he say to her that would satisfy Luke’s story? Well, he thought to himself, the kid is addicted to drama. It was the reason he created these elaborate stories after all. In dramatic fashion, he asked, “You love him, don't you?”
“Yes,” Leia responded simply, as though it were the most obvious concept in the universe.
Han nodded. Tone heavy for effect, he said, “All right. I understand. Fine. When he comes back, I won't get in the way.”
“Oh, Han, it's not like that at all, he’s my brother.”
Han widened his eyes, cracked open his mouth and leaned as far away from her as he could. He contemplated gasping audibly, but the giggles erupting all around him supplied that he had done enough to tease Luke.
“Okay, okay, funny guy,” Luke chuckled. In a more sober voice, he read from the typed script in his hands. “The empire has fallen. The remaining rebels have convened on Endor to celebrate. Luke burns the remains of the father he never knew as a tribute to his regret and forgiveness. Anakin’s soul is at rest and has joined with the other fallen Jedi.”
Cheering and clapping boomed throughout their enclosed space.
---
Anakin and Ben bid everyone a goodnight, citing their old age for their premature departure to their bedroom upstairs. (“Calm down, you’re literally forty-two.” “Oh no, son, I think I’m having a stroke! Catch me. Ugh.” “Dad! Dad, no! Stop!”) Everyone else followed the couple’s lead, trickling out of the house after gathering their materials, their small talk trailing behind them as they went about their way. Han was the only outsider of the Kenobi-Skywalker clan to stay behind.
Luke arranged his multitude of player guide books in a tall stack. As he was about to bravely carry them all in one attempt, an irritated growl escaped his lips. He pawed at his eyes. A grimace contorted his features.
“Something wrong?” Han asked. He tried his best to not allow too much concern to filter through his question, wary of Leia’s persistent presence around them.
Luke nodded. “Yeah, just, my contacts are bothering me. I think I’ve had them in too long,” his hissed.
“Go upstairs and get ready for bed,” Leia demanded. “Han and I’ll clean up.”
“Are you -”
“Yes!” Leia interrupted. To further emphasize her point, she made shooing motions with her hands towards him. With no more preamble, her brother climbed the stairs and out of the basement.
Once the boy was out of sight, Han pivoted towards the table to complete his self-appointed task of gathering Luke’s figurines. For a moment, as he carefully placed each model in their plastic container, he thought he would enjoy the quiet permeating the room. Then, Leia cleared her throat, the bugle horn that announced an upcoming lecture.
Annoyance already coarsed the corners of his silhouette.
“Luke isn’t going to wait around forever, y’know.”
Han didn’t dare look at his ex-turned-friend. The pity in her eyes and the smugness that lined her mouth would only add more fuel to the small fire burning in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he doused the flames with a growl. “I told you, Luke doesn’t like me like that.” There was a finality to his statement, not that Leia was ever good at reading when the conversation was over between them.
“How do you know if you don’t talk to him?”
“Because I know, okay?” Han snapped. The immediacy of his fight dropped beneath his feet. Defeated, he implored, “Drop it.” Han closed the lid on the final figurine case. He took pleasure in the loud clicking noise that punctuating his last words.
“You’re staying tonight, right?” Oh no, he did not like the way her question rolled off her tongue. Unperturbed by Han’s lack of response, she continued. “My room is being remodeled, so I’m gonna have to take the den. Why don’t you stay in Luke’s room tonight?”
---
Leia refused to allow him access to the pillows and blankets arranged in the living room closet. Although he had known the family for years, polite sensibilities prevented him from simply taking the linens and holing himself on the couch. Han was also sure she had nefarious plans for the couch if he stubbornly planned to use it without the extra comforts. He was forced to go to his only other resource.
Han knocked lightly on Luke’s door. A sweet, “come in,” beckoned him inside the room.
The boy sat in front of his computer. The light from the large monitor illuminated the side of visage, shrouded in darkness. Having forgone his contacts, Luke wore a pair of thin-framed glasses that added a level of youthfulness to his nineteen years. Han couldn't fight the swell of tenderness in his chest even if he had tried.
“Keep staring at that screen in the dark and you’ll go blind,” Han tossed the affectionate jab at Luke.
“More blind than I already am?” Luke quipped back without turning away from the computer. His fingers continued to fly over his keyboard. Words manifested themselves in front of Luke at a dizzying pace. Impressive, really.
Han leaned against the cluttered bookshelf stationed next to his friend’s door. “Leia’s keeping the pillows and blankets hostage,” Han explained. “She won’t let me sleep on the couch. Insists I nest here.”
An eyebrow perched itself highly on Luke’s forehead.“Why?” he asked, almost absent-mindedly.
“Dunno, but can I crash on your floor?” Han hoped that his hurried question masked the lie he told.
“It’s a queen,” Luke snorted. “We can both fit on the bed.” While it was not a demand, it was also not an invitation to argue.
Han accepted his fate, caught in Leia’s trap. It was no matter. He could be mature about this. Wordlessly, he accepted the offer and made himself ready for bed.
--
By the time Luke joined him on the other side of the mattress, dusk began to form over the horizon, and Han had little sleep to show for it. Anxiety gnawed away at his coiled stomach. The guardians of Luke’s numerous posters and the clicking of his keyboard did little to lull him to sleep. Several times, he contemplated just driving the forty-five minutes back to his apartment, but ultimately decided to wait it out. He couldn’t spurn Luke’s hospitality, after all.
A light touch against the bare skin of his upper arm uncoiled his stomach, offering a strange level of comfort. Although his pounding heart took solace in the display, it was perceived accidental. That was until the distinct sensation of fingertips trailing down his appendage caused goosebumps to prickle sharply.
Was Luke actually touching him? This kind of tenderness was so foreign coming from the younger male, not that it was unwanted. Indecision froze the older man; should he make Luke aware of his consciousness or continue to feign sleep? For several excruciatingly pounding heartbeats, he didn’t dare move or open his eyes. Holding his breath, he waited for Luke’s next move.
A pair of lips found the meat of his shoulder. Luke’s arm wound its way over his stomach. The boy’s delicate cheek found a home against him. Those actions were unmistakable.
Adrenaline spurred him to open his eyes and slowly turn to his side to face Luke. Han gave credit to the boy’s bravery; he stared up at him, not in fear or denial, but in anticipation. In the smartest move he had ever made, Han leaned forward, capturing Luke’s lips in a soft, gentle kiss. No words were necessary.
--
“Sorry, you and Leia get married and have a kid in my next campaign.”
“Why can’t we get married? I mean, if your character is like you, he can still have a kid, right?”
“Yeah, but I spent all night writing it out and I really don’t want to start over!”
“Ugh! Fair enough. But, I want a divorce from her… better yet, can I just die and make a new character, please?”
“That can be arranged!”
“...You sound way too happy about that.”