Archive: SWAL, StarWarsfic, my homepage
Archive Date: December 25, 1999
Author's Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/destinaf/
Category: Romance, Holiday
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Feedback: Is always appreciated. destinaf@hotmail.com
Notes: This very fluffy and unabashedly sentimental
vignette is just further proof I can corrupt even the most
innocent things. The title is taken from a 14th century lullaby
carol, an ancient medieval motet. The first two lines were what
inspired this vignette: "As I lay on Yoolis night, alone in my
desire it seemed to me..." This is my little Christmas present to
my fellow Han/Luke lovers, but most especially Cara, Irene and
Mona - happy holidays!
Pairing: H/Lu
Rating: PG
Summary: Luke is missing Han.
Timeline: pre-TESB, while the Rebels are based on Hoth; assumes
an ongoing and previously established m/m relationship between
the characters
Als ich lag in der Wiehnachtsnacht,
Ein und voller Sehnsucht, da schien es mir...
(As I lay on Yoolis night,
Alone in my desire it seemed to me...)
--- "As I lay on Yoolis night", 14th Century Carol
Luke sighed a cold breath and watched it become a sparkling cloud of frost. He curled into a ball underneath the blankets, seeking the spots already warmed by his body, shivering his way deeper into the hard mattress.
Hoth's climate had been unbearable in the summer season, when the sleet-storms and blizzards were at a minimum, but the winter season was defined by a constant barrage of snow. His veins felt as though they were filled with liquid ice, and nothing could make him warm again. Space heaters only made the place damp with moisture as they melted everything nearby; living in dry cold was preferable to a soggy state of miserable wetness. The rebel pilots and their support staff suffered in silence as the temperature dropped to unbearable levels in the dead of night.
Luke arched his spine and allowed himself a brief pang of longing. He missed Han's presence at his back, solid and warm, making the frigid nights bearable. When his lover had been assigned the task of flying Leia to a diplomatic conference on Boreth Prime, Luke had hoped he might refuse. Yoolis Night was approaching, and although the holiday wasn't Corellian in origin, Luke hoped Han understood its importance to him.
Apparently, that wasn't the case, because Han was gone in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, with a raucous grin and a wink over one shoulder. Luke shuddered as he entertained the thought that Han might be gone a week or more, and in that time, the holiday would come and go.
With another sigh, the young pilot climbed out of bed and yelped as his bare feet touched the floor. Quickly, he wrapped up in multiple layers of thick tunics and trousers, hauling on an insulated flight suit and boots for good measure. Slowly, his body temperature equalized, and he trotted around the room, lighting a number of fluorosticks.
The artificial glow of the lanterns made his quarters seem even smaller. Luke glanced around at the ghastly glare and retraced his path, switching them all off. He reached under the bed and rummaged about until he found the small pack containing his belongings - always kept at the ready in case of a fast evacuation.
A few moments later, he set two small candles on the bedside table and lit them. The flickering lights bent in the chill draft, then strengthened, casting a warm glow over the room. The tiny flames reflected against the glossy walls, chasing away the monotonous gloom of cold and loneliness. Luke watched, fascinated, as comforting shards of light cascaded about the room, offset by the deep shadows in their wake.
He'd been saving the candles for Yoolis night. Han had never seen one, and it was something he planned to share with glee, so he could watch Han's jaded eyes light with pleasure, if only briefly. Too little gave them joy these days, and aside from the comfort they found with one another, there was not much to distract or amuse them.
Even their blossoming relationship was on thin ice. Han continued to insist on avoiding any discussion of their feelings toward one another. He constantly reminded Luke they were at war, that relationships begun under such stressful circumstances didn't last, and on and on until Luke wanted to shake sense into him.
After all, Luke knew the reason Han stayed with the rebels instead of flying off for parts unknown...and it had a great deal to do with the fact that Luke refused Han's invitation to fly at his side, even though Han refused to admit it. They both made their choices; Han's was centered around Luke. Luke figured that had to count for a great deal, despite Han's reluctance to commit to anything, or anyone, past the current mission. Independence was the cornerstone of Han's being, and Luke was slowly reaching an understanding of that facet of his lover's personality. He'd had to grow a great deal to reach a point where Han's words mattered less than his willingness to stay.
Which, Luke mused, was exactly the reason the Yoolis celebration had developed such significance, at least in his own mind. It was a way to show Han without words just what the man meant to him, and he had built up such excitement about it that his disappointment over Han's absence was all the greater. Family holidays on Tatooine were scarce - but the ancient Yoolis tradition was one of gift-giving and quiet appreciation of loved ones, and Luke hoped Han hadn't accepted the mission to Boreth Prime to avoid Luke altogether.
The thought sent a twinge of hurt through him, but he set it aside resolutely. He wasn't a kid anymore. People had lives and duties; he was old enough that he shouldn't fall to pieces because his plans didn't work out. He'd lost the only family he had ever known, the mentor who believed in him, but had gained new friends, and the freedom to choose his own path. He had so much to be grateful for -- but the nagging emptiness in his heart reminded him he was alone. Luke was starting to believe that was the way things were supposed to be for him - that solitude would be his natural state.
Sadness overtook him finally, creeping inside him and wrapping insidiously around his heart, tugging at his memories. He pried off his boots and squeezed back under the bedcovers, fully clothed, eyes fixed on the candle flames. As his mind began to wander, he set it free to roam among the memories of Yoolis nights past, reliving happy times...the hypnotic, dancing flames lulled him gently toward the edge of sleep...
"Wake up, kid," came a voice at his ear. Luke sat up with a start, bringing his lips into the perfect position for a deep, searching kiss. His mouth parted to allow a sensuous tongue inside, insistent and possessive, and he grinned against Han's lips.
"You made it back," he breathed when he was allowed to speak again. He knew his pleasure showed clearly on his face, and made no effort to keep the happiness from dancing in his eyes. Han's answering grin told him that his joy was shared.
"You have too many clothes on," Han observed archly, fingers already deftly sliding the zipper of the flight suit open to Luke's waist so his hands could snake inside. His warm palms lifted the edges of the many tunics and slipped underneath, sliding up the slender, muscular back. Luke's breath quickened as Han pulled him close once again to kiss him slowly and thoroughly.
The silence of the room witnessed the soft sounds of pleasure Luke made, half-unaware, and Han's answering sounds, quiet words whispered against the younger man's ear as his lips traveled the curve of Luke's neck, crossing his earlobe, finding his way home again.
"Wait...wait," Luke said quietly, and Han pulled back. The shimmering desire in the dark eyes almost made Luke forget why he'd asked his lover to stop...almost. He backed Han off with a shove and scrambled off the bed, diving under it to retrieve his bag once again. Surfacing with a small package in his hand, he presented it to Han, who favored him with a bemused look.
"What is it, Luke?" he asked, turning the oddly shaped bundle over, examining it.
"Open it. That's the whole point!" Luke said, trying to control the silly smile that threatened to erupt into laughter.
Han proceeded to dig his fingernails underneath the wrapping and tear away the outer paper with one yank. "Ohhhhh," he said, and let out a war whoop. "I've been looking from here to Coruscant and back for this damned part!" he said delightedly. "How'd you find one?"
"I asked around," Luke answered, his grin becoming even broader as Han's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Hyperdrive components aren't exactly cheap," he said, dropping it on the bed and tackling Luke, pinning the younger man down. "What'd ya have to trade for it?"
"Nothing I couldn't afford," Luke said, squirming beneath Han, noting the effect his wriggling was producing. Wickedly, he squirmed harder, until he was stopped by the weight of a body pressed full length to his own.
"Didn't give away anything that belongs to me, did you?" Han asked, in a dangerously low tone.
Luke looked into his lover's eyes, startled by the question, and the passion he saw there made him shiver with delicious, fiery anticipation. "No," he said, lifting his neck to nibble at Han's lips. "Everything that belongs to you is safe and sound."
"Better be." Another dark look. "I don't like to share."
A few more seconds of silence passed, while the two men occupied themselves with one another. Han sat back breathlessly, eyes shining, and drew a small package from his inside shirt pocket.
Luke accepted the small bundle carefully, and tilted his head to look at Han. "You didn't have to."
"I know that," Han said, reaching out to brush back the mop of blond hair that had fallen into Luke's eyes. "Open it. Carefully."
Delicately, Luke snapped the string that bound the rag around the object and whisked the cloth away. He gave the small piece of clear, faceted crystal a quizzical look, then raised questioning eyes to Han.
"I picked it up on Yerel awhile back, when I was buyin' supplies for the base," Han said. "Vendor gave me a song 'n dance about how the glass is Force-sensitive, that it does special things sometimes." He shrugged. "It's pretty enough."
"You bought this on Yerel?" Luke said softly. "That was months ago."
"Yeah, well..." His lover shrugged again, aware of the implications of it. "You like?"
In answer, Luke touched the crystal tentatively, smoothing his fingertip across the ridges. Like liquid ink, shades of cobalt and indigo, suffused with emerald green, welled within the glass, the colors mutating slowly in time to Luke's motions. They stared, transfixed by the shifting blues and greens.
"I like," he said, setting the crystal down gently.
"So those are candles," Han said gruffly, changing the subject.
Luke reached out a hand, touching Han's face with the same tenderness and wonder he'd shown his gift. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "Thank you."
In answer, Han turned his cheek into the hand, leaning into the touch. "Wouldn't miss it." He caught the hand there, turned the palm up, kissed it and followed the lines of it with his tongue until Luke shivered again. A quick ritual of undressing, and layers of clothing flew in every direction, scattered across the floor of hard-packed ice. Han burrowed into the covers and drew Luke in with him.
Luke snuggled against the warm, familiar body, closing his eyes with bliss as hands explored him, heating his chilled skin. "Happy Yoolis night," he whispered, and found his answer in the rapturous gift of Han's kiss.