Hello there. Thank you very much for clicking. I hope you enjoy this short drabble about the twins which I wrote to celebrate the end of finals this year.
As always all reviews, comments, critiques, etc. are welcome.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. He also owns Howard the Duck, but he's welcome to that cinematic endeavor.
We're running down the grime-streaked halls, dodging laser blasts, my hand clutching your arm in an almost unbearable death-like grip. There is something important in this touch, inconsequential, as it may seem to anyone who stops to ponder it. Something like a bond, a thread, that connects the two of us as we run for our lives.
You're not a ladies' man, that's for sure. But the way you barged into my detention block cell was pretty heroic, or noble, or brave, or something close to it. And I can't deny that there's something in your eyes that attracts me—though not in any sort of romantic sense of the word. That, I'll reserve for that cheeky pilot you're with, if he's to get any consideration of mine at all. But you…just you.
The trash compactor was frightening, though I'll never admit it out loud, and least of all to someone as regal and worldly as you. I'm just a kid running around with a blaster but blast it, there's something about you that caught my eye in that holo message. And in real life you're so much better. So much better. You know what it is? You're worth fighting for. And so I will take a stand. Or rather, run…whoa!
Whoa! Got you. You know, you really are fresh off the farm aren't you? And yet there's some sense of endearment that makes me stand with you and fight against the evil that plagues us both. Or maybe that's more desperation. Because after all, it's not like I had a choice in who was going to rescue me off of this floating sphere of death. But then again I…oh, great going farmboy.
Whoops. Yeah, so that was a mistake. But you can't blame me for trying; I have the best of intentions, though Uncle Owen used to tell me that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Oh, poor Uncle Owen. I…yikes! Take that! And that! We're going to need to get out of here and soon. Wait a moment, I got it!
They say that it's the little things that matter. And in this moment, when you hand me the blaster to command, my sense of respect for you goes up by notches. Most men I've had the pleasure of getting acquainted with would rather I waited in the back until they "took care" of the violent or squeamish things. But you, you don't question. The trust is implicit with you, or maybe you just trust everybody this way. I wouldn't know, but something tells me you're good-hearted.
Deep breath. I've never done something like this before at all, except for in my wildest dreams. But I never dreamed I'd be helping someone as brave, smart, bold, and beautiful as you, Princess. Hang on tight, because we're going for a ride. And I…er…wow.
There's no time really to analyze the look in your eyes once I give you that peck on the cheek. You're probably infatuated with me, but then again, I'm probably the first girl you've seen, other than whatever model was popular back home in farmland. So I won't take any of it personally. But I'm still pleased by your loyalty. And here goes nothing.
It's a miracle that we made it. And wouldn't my father be so proud of me? But there's no time for praises or indeed, even words as I detach the string and take your arm again. It just feels right to be guiding you, and you with me, protecting you from harm. Maybe it's this crazy Force stuff. Or maybe it's just because you are amazing, Princess Leia. I hope after all this running and fighting is over, we can be friends.
For a moment farmboy, I was a little skeptical that this would work. But now I have to say, you've fast risen in what I would consider to be my "standards". And so we continue down the corridors, searching for that crazy smuggler and his pet carpet. And so help me, if we ever get out of this alive, I'll take the time to actually get to know you, Luke.
For what it's worth, I'm really glad we met.