Summary: So, this story is concentrated in the same OOC universe as my previous Star Wars fanfictions. Luke is now fully grown and works for the Air Force. Leia is married to Han, and has shipped their son Ben off to his grandfather for being unruly. Chaos ensues as Ben becomes obsessed with his grandfather!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Star Wars.

Luke Skywalker loved his job.

He was a Senior Airman in the United States Air Force, and he was based in the most exciting place in the world: northern Alaska. His team was researching and developing a type of aircraft that wouldn't need to be de-iced in the cold weather. This project could save airlines millions of dollars; when planes had to waste time being de-iced, flights were postponed. When flights were postponed, airlines lost bucketloads of money.

Luke also loved Northern Alaska. He lived in an apartment near the base, and he liked to pretend that the base was Planet Hoth. Timmy the Tauntaun, his favorite comic book character, lived on Planet Hoth. He even kept a stuffed Timmy in his room, next to his stuffed polar bear.

Keeping stuffed animals wasn't a childish thing to do. No sirree.

Going home, though, was a hassle. Luke had to take a private plane to Fairbanks, fly to Seattle, fly to Las Vegas, and then take another private plane to Naboo, Nevada, where his father lived. He had to take four different planes in total, and the trip took about a day.

But Luke hadn't been home in quite a while. In fact, when his superior told him that he'd earned two weeks' leave, Luke announced that he was taking his leave to visit his family in Nevada. His superior wished him luck.

Luke packed his stuffed tauntaun in his suitcase and took off for the base.

Meanwhile, in Naboo, Darth Vader was having his breakfast. This seemed like a perfectly normal activity, but the truth was, Darth couldn't eat at all: he wore a mask due to a disfiguring accident, and ate through a feeding tube. "Breakfast" meant that he read the paper and pretended to drink a cup of coffee.

"DROIDS!" he hollered as he turned a page of the paper at the dining room table. "GET ME MY COFFEE OR BE DESTROYED!"

The Skywalkers had two droids, R2D2 and C3PO. Vader was a retired from a company that wholesaled robotics parts, and he was able to build C3PO by himself decades ago. R2D2 was acquired by his wife, who'd died in a car crash decades ago. Darth, being the lazy person he was, used his droids for housework.

To Darth's amusement, a droid he'd never seen before maneuvered its way into the dining room. This droid was white and orange, and was combined of two spheres: one shaped like a softball, right on top of one shaped like a basketball. The two spheres rotated together so that the droid could move across the room.

As soon as the droid had reached the table, the basketball sphere opened to reveal a steaming hot cup of coffee. The droid reached out an arm and deposited the coffee right next to Darth's morning paper.

Darth just kept staring as the new droid rolled back to the kitchen.

"DROIDS!" Darth screamed, even louder than before. "EXPLAIN YOURSELVES OR BE DESTROYED!"

Instantly, C3PO bumbled his way into the dining room. "Oh, please don't be angry, Lord Vader," he stammered. "But you see, that horrible washing machine has broken down again. R2D2 is trying to diagnose the problem while I clean up the-"

"This is no time for excuses," Darth growled angrily. "What was that monstrosity that brought me my morning coffee today?"

"'Monstrosity' is a very strong word, Lord Vader," C3P0 trembled. "You see, BB8 is fully capable of running small errands for you while Artoo and I work on much larger problems-"

"Where did you get him?"

"We found him at the warehouse, sir. Artoo programmed him."

Darth had worked at S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D., a wholesaler of robotic parts and droids. Recently, the C.E.O., a man named Palpatine, had recently died in an incident involving a laser. The board of directors had appointed Darth to his position. Finally! Darth was going to be living out his dream—sit around, get paid megamillions, and delegate all the work!

Darth had been living out his dream for exactly one day when the finance officer came to him with the books: there was nothing left. S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D. was going to have to fold. They were in debt up to their heads, and they couldn't repay the debt.

Darth cursed Palpatine and announced he'd had it. It was time for him to retire.

As S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D. liquidated, Darth had been fooling around with parts in the warehouse. He'd started building a random droid, but it looked like Artoo had finished the job for him. Darth was upset, as anyone else would be whose droids were constructing other droids behind his back. Hell, this was droid mutiny, and there was no place for that in the Skywalker house. No sirree.

"BBS, or whatever his name is, is not welcome, do you understand?" Darth demanded as C3PO continued to apologize. "You deprogram him and put him in the garage."

"But-but-Mr. Vader-"

"No buts." Darth picked up his paper to read, leaving C3PO to sulk out of the room.

Suddenly, Darth had a brainstorm and lowered the paper again. "Wait, Threepio. I have a better idea."

"Sir?" C3PO turned around, looking hopeful. He really didn't want to deprogram BB8 after all of the hard work that Artoo had done.

"Give the new droid to the boy. He'll have something to play with."

Threepio froze. This really wasn't the outcome he wanted, but it was better than leaving BB8 to rot in the garage. "Yes, Lord Vader. Right away," Threepio told his master. "But don't you think the boy will be too rough on BB8?"

"I have already altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further," Vader replied crossly, picking up the paper once again. "And clean the princess' room. We don't have anywhere else for the Lukester to stay while he's here."

"Yes, Lord Vader," Threepio replied timidly.

Vader flipped the page again to the classifieds. Despite have to raise the spawn of the princess and that awful Solo kid, boredom was starting to set in…maybe he should find himself a new job.