Luke had never been so happy. He'd thought he'd known happiness when he he'd flown his first X-wing. He thought he'd felt it when he'd blown up the Death Star and become a hero of the rebellion. But, those things, it turned out, were nothing compared to the weight of Wedge Antilles' arm around his shoulders.
He'd just slung it around Luke in a moment of laughter after he'd said something completely ridiculous about Han and Leia. The Rogues, quietly and then not so quietly, had been running a betting pool on the two of them for over a year now. Luke felt a little bad about it sometimes - he thought of Han and Leia as his best friends. But, he couldn't help but poke fun every once in a while. For one thing, they were absurdly obvious in their frustrated feelings for each other and for another…well…Wedge.
"You know," Wedge said, solid arm still draped across Luke's neck warming him up in the chill of their second Hoth night. "You have special access to our dynamic duo, you ever think of…helping them along?"
Another, smaller roar followed, this one both excited and wary.
"Are you suggesting we rig the game, Antillies?" Hobbie accused over the rim of his beer.
"Nahhh, just…move things along. Do we really want to spend another year talking about this?"
Again, the response was mixed - the Rogues gained considerable pleasure from this ongoing debate - but then eventually they settled on a probably not?
"Alright, so," Wedge's breath tickled Luke's ear as he reached up and ruffled his hair. "Luke's just made Commander - he owes us another prank."
Luke groaned, "The last time you almost got me kicked off the base."
Wes guffawed at this and Hobbie countered, "You really think a rebellion - let alone one as flat broke and hopeless as this one - is gonna turn away a bonafide Hero with a capital H?"
Luke colored a little as the guys stared him down and turned his face into Wedge's shoulder before straightening up and saying. "Alright — what'd you have in mind?"
The plan was simple. Make Han jealous. (Though it had taken an embarrassingly long time to come up with. Luke could blame that more on the fire whiskey than on the Rogue's collective brain power.) He would play up the old crush he'd had on Leia - back when he'd thought pilots could only be buddies - and tell Han he was finally going to make a move. Five out of six of the Rogues were sure it would be enough to spur him into action.
"Han's not gonna stand by and watch the blue-eyed wonder steal his girl," Wes said.
"Wouldya stop calling me that?" Luke whined.
Wes held up his hands, "Wasn't me who started it. Talk to Wedge."
"But, Han likes Luke," the usually taciturn Tycho pointed out. "He may not want to interfere."
The men paused for a moment to consider this before unanimously shaking their heads.
"No way, he's Han Solo. He won't back down."
As he boarded the Falcon, Luke tried to remind himself of his mission rather than dissect Wedge's blue-eyed comment for the hundredth time. Did guys usually notices other guys eyes? Did that rhyme?
"Kid," Han said, snapping his fingers in front of said blue-eyes, "what are you doin' here?"
Luke blinked at Han, willing visions of tall, dark pilots out of his head and summoning thoughts of small, sisterly princesses instead.
"It's Leia," his voice jumped a little at the end of her name, "I mean, I have to talk to you about Leia," he tried again, voice now unnaturally low.
Han gave him a queer look before shrugging his shoulders and telling him to come in.
"If you're asking me to go on another death-defying mission that costs me parts and patience rather than making me any credits, the answer is no."
"It's not about a mission," Luke said, raising his hand nervously to the back of his neck. He'd never been a good actor. He was a pilot, and maybe a mystical warrior of old, but not an actor. "It's not about the rebellion at all in fact."
Han turned back to him and squinted again. Luke couldn't tell if it was the dimness of the hallway or Han's usual blend of skepticism and curiosity.
"So, what's it about?"
Luke swallowed, "Can you pour me a drink?"
Han shook his head, but beckoned him into the common space. He slipped into the galley and returned with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
"I pour, you talk," he said, gracefully uncapping the bottle and tipping its amber contents neatly into each glass.
"I want to date Leia," Luke said in a blind rush, before grabbing the nearest glass and throwing it back. He immediately proceeded to choke and cough like a maniac, holding onto the side of the holo table like it was the side of a sand skiff over the Dune Sea.
He finally managed to pull himself together. With a few uneven breaths and a toss of his too-long hair, he chanced a glance at Han.
The look on the pirate's face was far from what the young Jedi expected.
The side of his mouth was quirked up, and his eyes had a soft sort of gentleness, unlike anything Luke had ever seen from the veteran spacer. There was still some laughter lurking in that smirk, but there was no anger, no sadness and no disbelief.
"I want to date Leia," Luke said again, clearly and a little more emphatically, somehow sure that Han hadn't heard him correctly.
"Heard you the first time, kid," Han said, before lifting his glass to his lips and taking a much more measured sip of Corellian whiskey.
"And..and you're okay with that?"
Luke snapped his mouth shut, painfully aware that he was being completely unsubtle - what would Wedge do? Probably shake his head and face palm. - but he couldn't help feeling flustered and a tad bit annoyed.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Han asked, cool as a crispcumber, sipping his drink once again.
"Well…I mean," Luke stuttered, staring into his glass, "Well, why else have you stuck around?"
Han's eyes flashed a bit at that and he swirled the whiskey in his glass to the rhythm of his next statement, "For the money."
Luke's mouth fell open at this, ready to argue, to call Han's buff, but the spacer didn't even blink, returning to his drink as if he were rather bored.
So much for throwing him into a blind, jealous rage, Luke thought. What am I supposed to do now?
"Well, I guess I'll just go date her then," Luke said, sounding about as deflated as he felt. He slid the glass back toward Han and rose to go.
"Just one minute, pal," Han said, stopping Luke in his tracks. Luke turned back smiling, sure this was the moment he'd been waiting for.
"You're gonna need my help."
Luke started to answer, then stopped. Thought. Then started again.
"What in blue blazes—"
"You really think you can bag a princess with the moves your sporting now?"
Now that was just mean.
Luke puffed up his chest and stretched to his full height (aka tilted his chin up so he kind of looked down his nose).
"In case you've forgotten, I'm a war hero and a recently promoted Commander of the Rogue Squadron."
Han waited for him to finish all patient like. Then added:
"You're also a virgin."
Luke tried to argue but the fierce blush dancing across his face sort of ruined that one for him.
"Don't worry about it, kid. You came to the right place. I know how to woo a woman."
Luke looked around the empty echo of the Falcon then back at Han who had crossed his arms.
"Doesn't mean I want to keep 'em."
It was too much for a tipsy, virgin Jedi to take in, so Luke let himself sink back onto the acceleration couch and listen to the rest of Han's pitch.
"You're never gonna get her by acting like a dopey, starstruck dolt. No offense."
Luke reached for the whiskey. "Some taken."
"You've gotta be cool. You've gotta be mysterious. And most of all, you've gotta treat her like a woman. Not a princess."
Leia wished for just one moment as she returned tiredly to her quarters that she could be a princess once more. Of course, she still held the title. She still held the responsibility. But, the perks were greatly diminished.
In her old life, after arguing all day at the Senate or attending local functions at home, she would be greeted at her door by a fleet of efficient servants. They'd glide forward on silent feet and make sure she was undressed, groomed, and laid into bed before she could even crack a yawn. She may have been spoiled, but she'd always known she was lucky.
Now, at 3AM after another interminable strategy meeting that seemed to have only riled her rather than really solved anything, Leia returned to a far different scene.
Her door swung open and she was greeted by a wave of air even more freezing than the hallway. In order to maintain the structure of their current base, command had insisted personnel turn off their heating systems when their room was unoccupied. Clothes littered the floor, her bed was unmade, and an alarming pile of papers and news holos teetered on its corner.
Her greatest secret, carefully guarded by the Alderaanian Royal House Staff: Leia was a slob.
She was about to shove the papers off and deal with the fallout in the morning, when her foot slipped on something directly beneath it.
She squinted down at the floor and found the culprit. A little piece of paper, glossy against the duracrete slab. She bent down to retrieve it and throw it in with the rest of the detritus, when she caught a glimpse of a gaudy holo on the front.
It was a postgram, featuring a brightly colored tourist scene and some black scrawl on the back. Leia was sure she'd never seen it before.
Forgetting her exhaustion for the moment, she crossed to her bed and held the postgram under her rigged up reading light. Leia skimmed with the efficiency of a droid, blinked, sank down onto her bed, then started again.
Leia,
I think you knew this was coming. I know I did. It wasn't from the first moment I saw you. That moment was a blur, and you were just a bright smudge within it. But, as time went on things got clearer, and you got clearer too. You aren't just a leader, you would give your life for any damn person on this base whether he cleaned out muck tanks or flew a warship. You aren't just a firebrand, you have a mouth that could build a man up just as easily as you could tear him down. You aren't just my friend, you're a woman who I can't stop thinking about. Your hair, your skin, your dark brown eyes. The freckle just above your lip. You're something maddening and soothing, the firetrap seed and the aloeleaf balm, all wrapped into one, torturing me and tending to me day after day after endless day.
Things are too clear now. I have to see you. Will you see me?
Secret Rebel
It was…was it? It was a love letter.
Leia looked around her room, unsure of how to react to this fact. She'd never received such a thing and she'd never really desired to. It was silly, sort of old fashioned, and definitely out of line. But…
It was rather intriguing.
She flipped over to the front again looking for any clue as to who might have left it. The bright lights of Spiro gave her no clue, she'd been there once in her childhood but hadn't returned in years. And they certainly hadn't sent any missions there.
It had to be someone well-traveled.
And there was a tone, something about it, that made her think of familiarity. This person wasn't a stranger. His observations were keen and specific.
Or was it a her?
Leia looked up at the ceiling. She didn't have time for this. This was nonsense.
Things are too clear now. I have to see you. Will you see me?
Will you see me?
"How am I supposed to see you?"
Luke paced on the rug in Wedge's room having just finished telling him the sad tale of Han the Helper.
"So, he pulled out this box full of papers and wrote her a letter. He told me to slip it under her door and I did. I mean, what am I supposed to do now? Just…go with it? I think I have to tell him."
"Mmmm…" Wedge rumbled, "Do you?"
Luke's eyes bugged out. "Well, it's that or date Leia."
"You sure he's that good?"
"Oh, he's that good," Luke groused. "Our first year on base he slept with half the female personnel. And only because the other half were married."
Wedge laughed and rubbed his fingers along his jaw.
"So why's he so eager to help you?" Wedge asked.
Luke shrugged, not really in the mood for semantics. "The hell if I know what makes Han tick."
"Well, this has certainly put him in a position of control. But, who's he trying to control? Princess Leia or you?"
Luke gave Wedge a dumb stare, "Why would he wanna control me?"
Wedge shrugged, "Maybe he wants you for himself."
Luke's mouth fell open for the second time that night and he immediately snapped it shut.
"No. NO. Han's not into me…like that."
Wedge gave him a searching smile. "Oh, and how do you know?"
"I—I…I guess I don't," Luke grimaced. "That's exactly what I need…"
Wedge looked down at this, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck in away that set Luke's heart tripping.
"Not that—I mean, it has nothing to do with him being—I like guys—I mean, he's like my brother…I think."
Luke was blushing fiercely now and Wedge was giving him a full-on smile, leaning back on his hands, legs spread in a distractingly appealing sort of way.
"Well, that's a conversation for another time. Truth is, I don't really think Han's leaning that way…yet," he winked at Luke, "I think he's too hung up on Leia to see anyone else."
Luke shook his head balefully, unable to untwist the snarl that was his current mind state.
"Come here," Wedge said, patting the bed beside him. Luke obediently took a seat, starting as Wedge's hand came to rest on his back. He made lazy trails up and down as he spoke softly and methodically.
"Let's play this out. See if we can't catch him at his own game. Either way, we'll get a read on which way the wind is blowing."
"That sounds like cheating, Wedge," Luke said, voice coming out in a breathy sort of way as Wedge's fingers kneaded the nape of his neck.
"You think the other Rogues aren't doing it? This is a bet after all. All is fair in love and pranks."