Chapter 7: Bloodstripes
A pile of bloodstained rags and over half a bottle of Corellian whiskey (the strong stuff) later, Han and Luke found themselves sitting on the floor, under the holotable of the dimly lit Falcon saloon.
The duo heard methodical footsteps coming up the ramp, and they both looked at each other, trying not to laugh. They both were quite tipped from the ale, and they were afraid – or rather, Han was afraid - that Leia would find them like this - drunk as two Hutts on a sailbarge.
Han held his finger up to his lips, signaling Luke to shut his loud mouth, but the other could not hold back a huge grin when Threepio came into view, toddling through the dark room unaware of their drunken presence under the table.
Both men started laughing silently, understanding that they had just been presented with a golden opportunity.
This was just too good.
"Ol' Goldenrod has this wrong idea about me, kid, that I'm some kinda…soundrel or somethin'. …Keeps on comin in here to 'check on me'" slurred Han with his lopsided grin as he tilted his head back on the seat cushion behind him. "I think he wantsta catch me doin' somethin'…bad" – whispered Han, rather loudly as he winked at Luke - "so that he can prove to Leia that I'm not worth her time… that his circuits are still working properly or somethin'"…
"Kriff, I'm not sure my circuits are working properly after…how many did we just have?" said Luke as he held up their shared bottle, now beginning to laugh again.
Luke wasn't sure Han was good for Leia either, if he were being completely honest with himself, but he sure couldn't say no to an innocent prank at Threepio's expense, and he wasn't sure he wanted to have any more ale - or whatever they were drinking - otherwise he would be completely honest with Han, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be at the moment. It had already been quite a day.
Just then, they heard Threepio walking back into the saloon after surveying the entire ship, and both grew really quiet again. As the droid walked up to the holotable, Luke decided to grab Han's hand – saying loudly, "Ooh, Captain Solo, your hands are SO SOFT!" – as Threepio quickly bent over to look both of them in the eye – caught red-handed!
Luke was already rolling on the floor laughing, the whiskey having now fully soaked into his Force-frazzled brain.
"Alright, youngling, that's enough for you!" said Han sarcastically as he grabbed the bottle and pulled his hand away from Skywalker, who was turning out to be quite the impressive prankster, Han thought, shaking his head (but silently approving Luke's hilarious bad behavior).
This, however, was not what he meant by pranking Threepio.
"Captain Solo! My goodness this is really quite enough from you! My circuits are overloading! Just what is Mistress Leia going to say when she hears about this!" -
"She ain't gonna hear about nothin', Professor!", interrupted Han, loudly, now pursing his lips as he looked over at Luke, shaking his head at the Tatooineiian who clearly could not handle his whiskey.
"Really, Master Luke, this behavior is quite unbecoming of you, why just this week I thought, 'my goodness this young man is quite the noble gentleman', and now here he is, holding hands with this space pirate! Artoo is such a terrible influence, why, when he is fixed – oh I do hope he will be the same – I am going to deactivate him for this! Oh dear oh dear-"
"It's ok Threepio!" said the still-laughing Luke – "We were just joking around with you…Han's hands are rough, they're not soft at all!" Luke stuck his tongue out at Han as he slowly got up off the floor to help the frazzled Threepio sit down at the holotable.
Han decided the joke was too good to let die now: "Why, Master Skywalker, it's you that has the deliciously soft hands from all that sand….", said Han with his trademark wink, raising his eyebrows a few times at Luke, and now clearly enjoying this joke a little too much for Luke.
Han would NEVER let Luke live this one down.
This was far too much for poor Threepio to handle though, as usual.
"Oh Master Luke, really, this is far too much for my circuits! It's not my fault I was programmed for etiquette! Sometimes I just can't understand human behavior!", rambled Threepio, as Luke struggled to plug him into the charging panel near the holodeck.
"I think someone's over-tired", said a red-eyed Luke over his shoulder to Han, who was more than amused watching Luke pretend to be sober.
Still sprawled under the table, Han tugged on Luke's filthy pant leg -"Here kid, I think he needs this more than we do – but none for you, son", and handed him the near-empty bottle, while rolling his eyes.
The "kid" was pretty damn tipped at this point, but Han was for all intents and purposes just getting started. He could really hold his liquor, and after years in space, he realized that maybe he had better cut back…just a bit. Afterall, the Corellian wanted to save the really good stuff for tomorrow when they'd really get down to celebrating. And anyway, he didn't want to let himself go and say something stupid, though why he suddenly cared about that, he wasn't quite sure. He didn't want to think about it. Suddenly there had been much more to think about during these past few days.
As Han looked again at Luke standing next to the table, still fiddling with Threepio's corroded power coupling, he imagined how terrible it would be for the kid to wear these old clothes to the ceremony tomorrow. He really looked a-mess, no small thanks to the filth he'd just made Luke clean up with him.
Maybe it was the ale - maybe not - but either way, Han now felt bad.
He had been pretty hard on the kid these past few days. Luke wasn't exactly his idea of good company – he sure didn't know when to shut up sometimes - but still…he was a good guy, and Han was beginning to warm up to him a little bit – a notion that shocked him, thinking back to their first meeting in Mos Eisley.
Still, Luke was nothing like the spineless drivel he was used to back at the cantina on Tatooine; as painful as it was to be around Skywalker - as uncool as he was - Han decided that he would start being a better friend to the younger man. Kriff, maybe Luke could learn to be cool, even.
He'd never admit it to anyone, but Han really needed a friend too – a human friend that he could trust, as much as he loved Chewie like a brother and always would.
Years of dealing with smuggler-types and the related scum that came along for the ride with his profession had hardened him a bit, made him a little more firey-tongued than he sometimes meant to be; he didn't realize it until recently just how much his comments could get him in trouble.
It was painfully obvious that Luke was hurt by his rejections and snarky comments; afterall, the kid hadn't really asked for any of this – the loss, the heroics, the improvised death-wish missions. The one thing he did want was a friend, and Han decided that that much he could give the guy after being a jerk to him.
He could try, at least.
He studied Luke's farm rags again. He really could have just summoned the cleaning crew to come on board and disinfect the whole ship at the drop of a hat.
Could have - but didn't want to.
Han was of the mindset that the Captain cared for his own ship and his own mess; leaving it up to a cleaning crew was not his idea of leadership, it wasn't their responsibility. Why should they break their backs for him when it was his idea to turn around and help? Still, he hadn't had much of a choice in the matter when it came to the girl's rescue…
That was all her Worshipfullness' idea, he thought to himself.
He was none-too-pleased about being ordered around by her.
No one gave him orders. He made sure the Falcon was running properly. He had the final say in the running of his ship, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
The truth was that Han didn't like the idea of anyone else looking after him, for any reason...especially princesses.
He was his own man - had always been, and always would be. Solo until the end.
Who was she to be bossing him around like this? And why the hell was he letting her!?
Han let out an audible groan that lasted for more than a few seconds as he rested his head back on the old seat-cushion of the holo-lounger. It was not very cushy after years of sabacc and holochess.
Maybe this was not the best time to be stubborn about it.
He was glad that they had saved the Imperial woman. At least to one farmboy, she seemed to have been worth the risk of the rescue (which had been considerable); Beggar's canyon wasn't the friendliest place to land an old freighter, and he sure as hell was no medic.
As he had earlier explained to Luke, he wasn't prepared to cut her out of the wreckage, and was even less prepared to stop the bleeding that occurred when he managed to extract her. Had he known better, he'd have cut her out without disturbing the impaled pieces of hull around her, leaving their proper removal to the base medics. Had Chewie not been there, she'd have died. That much he knew.
There was no way to change what happened now, he was just glad that she was alive and in one piece…and that her imminent death as a result of his unpreparedness was thankfully not on his head.
Han had seen Luke walking the base with her earlier today. It made him happy to see the kid smile a little bit. The slight pang of jealousy at seeing the kid with her surprised him. He had rescued her, not Luke. Nobody was entitled to anything…well, except his reward. And that was better than any woman, he told himself.
Despite Luke's happiness, the woman was an Imperial, and likely was not someone to be trusted. Then he remembered that he too had been an Imperial, years and years ago. The Academy. Ugh.
Then he laughed, remembering Luke arguing with him about which of them would end up with the princess. He had been joking when he had asked Luke, 'Whaddya think, a princess and a guy like me?' – because it was so painfully obvious that she wanted nothing to do with him - but he could see the hurt in Luke's eyes – he liked her. That much was plain.
Well, he could have her too, he decided. She was too damn hot-headed. He already had enough to deal with. The kid could stand a little healthy pushing around, he thought to himself with a smirk. Maybe that would shut him up finally.
The smuggler snapped out of it when a voice startled him out of his wandering thoughts:
"Well, it looks like Threepio could stand to be serviced – he's been through a lot, and I think he really has fried some of his circuits…though I think it's more from worrying for Artoo than wondering about our…shenanigans", said a now-more-sober Luke with a gruff laugh that was somewhat unlike the farmboy Han thought he knew.
"I think I'm going to go see if they can do an overnight soak-and-polish on him. I feel a little bad for riling him up like that", added Luke as he was beginning to gather up Threepio to leave.
"Good idea, kid. Hey speaking of getting all riled up, are you planning on wearing that tomorrow? Looks like you could use a soak-and-polish yourself!" said Han looking him over in an exaggerated manner. "You know the ladies aren't going to stand for you looking like a greasy monkey-lizard…"
Luke's eyes got big as he realized Han was right. After seeing all the hustle and bustle around base, and hearing a few whispers in the base hallways, apparently this was going to be a huge ceremony tomorrow…nothing like he had expected.
"Well, I was actually going to wear my flightsuit…you know, with the remaining Rogues…" said Luke as the captain cut him off.
"-Nah, Luke, you – we – are getting the highest honor bestowed by the Rebellion tomorrow…apparently we have to look spiffy… and on short notice. I know, unfair.", said Han with trademark snark.
Luke looked down at Han as he slumped back onto the lounger next to a low-powered Threepio. "Oh I don't know about all this, I thought it was just going to be a reception, maybe some extra mess rations, a little music…I dunno-"
Han cut him off as he got up off the floor, and pulled the younger man back to his feet. "Luke, I know you would never ask, but I know you've got nothing, and credits are good for nothing out here right now. I understand…I've been there too, but now, here we are with this, uh, shindig tomorrow…"
Moving toward the captains' quarters, Han walked out with a pile of clothes and plopped them onto the holotable in front of a bleary-eyed Luke. Chewie had just walked in after finishing the repairs, and chortled inquisitively at the filthy looking duo.
Luke looked at Chewie, and back at Han, surprised by his unexpected act of friendship.
"Well, I'll make it easy for ya kid. I've got chaps in two colors, Imperial Blue, and brown, both with Corellian Blood stripes. I don't really fit into these anymore," he said gesturing to the brown and yellow ones, "…so you can take these until you can get yourself some real nice duds. They're too short for me anyway," he said with a sly smirk that only Chewie could see.
Chewie guffawed at him. Luke really wished he could understand what the wookiee was saying...probably calling him short for the millionth time. It seemed to be the running inside joke between the two.
"Thanks Han. You'll never believe this, but I've never been garment shopping in my entire life, I couldn't even guess my size if I wanted to", Luke said with a laugh. "Do you mind if I try these on?" he asked, gesturing to the cabin around the corner.
"Wait, take these boots and my spare holster too," added Han, still rummaging through the cluttered storage bay. "They might not fit great, but at least we'll look all matchy-matchy-like," said Han sarcastically as Luke laughed and staggered with comedically-unsure footing toward the empty compartment to change.
Skywalker closed the door and looked at himself in the mirror as he removed the blood-stained clothes. He figured it would be best to burn them, as who knew what else had been on the floor of the med cabin. Han was right, he was better off dressing the part of a hero, though he still didn't feel as though he deserved it.
Luke felt plain old wrong wearing Corellian blood-stripes, as Han had earned the garments' characteristic stripes in years past for being a brave war hero ...something Luke now was as well - but nonetheless, he was not a Corellian, nor had he earned these particular stripes that were so prized by Han's people. Alas, it was the best he could do right now, and Han didn't seem to mind.
The stripes were but one more reminder that Han had every advantage over him: he was older, braver, better looking, more confident, owned his own shit, was taller (which he never let him forget, Force knows!), and of course, smoother.
As he changed, Luke sheepishly grinned as he recalled the time that he had feigned blindness to the various female garments falling out of the compartments in the very same chamber he was now changing in on the Falcon, and wondered if they were still in here...
They had been rummaging around for something suitable for Leia to change into after the garbage chute debacle, and Han had caught him laughing at Han's secret stash from lovers-past. Luke knew Leia had not seen, and Han had given him the Eye-of-Palpatine not to tell on him. Perhaps he wished he had back then, so she might see what kind of a guy she was REALLY dealing with.
But, now that Han had returned, maybe he wasn't such a bad guy afterall. Still, he couldn't help but thinking that maybe then he'd have had a glimmer of a chance with Leia, for once. Oh Force, maybe he was just a little bit jealous of the smuggler, always seeming to know just what to do. He had Rue in his life now, and he wouldn't trade that for anything, even if it was just for a short time.
Oh, who am I kidding, Luke thought, shaking the ale-soaked thoughts from his mind. He'd leave the sweet-nothings where they lay, saving the joke for another time, checking himself in the mirror one last time.
"We now proudly present...new and improved, now with better pants!" he announced as he emerged from the cabin wearing Han's pants, boots, and holster.
Luke swaggered back to the saloon area of the ship where Han and Chewie were waiting to accost his new look. With a huge toothy grin, Luke put on his best Han impression, pretending to pull an imaginary blaster from the holster slung low around his right hip, saying, "Hokey religions an' ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at yer side kid!".
Han swatted his hand dismissively at Luke. "Well kid, they're a little snug but that never killed anybody," said Han with an over-emphasized wink, "nobody's gonna notice with me standing up there with you, and you sure do look pretty pleased with yourself. Now go put a shirt on already, ain't nobody here that wants to see that!"
"Alright alright, your Highness I'm goin' I'm goin'!," answered Luke, who was still impersonating Han, much to Chewie's delight. But then Luke sobered a moment as he turned back toward the saloon: "What about you, Han, what've you got to wear?"
"Kid, I'm just wearing what I wear - it's just another day, I ain't out to impress nobody. There's only one lady in the whole kriffin' galaxy anyway, and I already know what she thinks a' me..."
Luke paused and shot Han a knowing look as he began joshing him. "Oh I know, some of that lacy stuff from your room? The princess will love that! Oh,Yesss Captain!", and he did a mock-striptease right there in the Falcon just to make him aggravated.
Han interrupted his dance: "- Kid, I told you NOBODY needs to know about that!...especially Her Worshipfullness. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, maybe… I don't know, start dressing real spiffy-like, polish my blaster..."
Just then, the only voice that could make the two men nervous called suddenly from around the corner…they'd been caught.