Author's Webpage: http://come.to/prillalar
Disclaimer: SW belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
Pairing: Lu/Wedge
Rating: R
Series: Antilles Diaries
Spoilers: ANH
Summary: Taking a break.
Timeframe: Soon after ANH.
A line of sweat escaped my sodden bandanna and trickled salt onto the corner of my mouth. So I pulled the damn thing off -- I'd tied it too tight anyhow. Behind me, I could hear Luke's laboured breathing. Looking over my shoulder, I was a little concerned by the deep flush on his face. "You OK, Junglewalker?"
"Are you sure the air is good on this planet? It's hard to breathe."
"It's not the heat, it's the humidity." I grinned at him, but I guess he'd never heard that one before. "We're almost there. Hang in there. Or did you want a break?"
"I can make it."
Of course. A little jab in the pride works wonders. The terrain here was pretty flat but we had to push aside a lot of foliage. I hoped he wasn't sorry he'd come with me. When you're a freedom fighter, there's not a lot you can do on a three-day leave.
The bush thinned out and soon we were on top of a sloping beach. Soft grey sand, dotted with shells, blue sea foaming white where it licked the shore. It looked so cool. Quenching. Sweetwater, not salt, or so they told me back at base. One way to find out.
I dropped my pack a good way above the tide-line. "Come on, Luke." I skinned out of my damp clothes, not bothering to do more than pile them up, then ran out into the surf.
The cold shocked my skin, sort of like finding out that a friend is alive after you thought he was dead. I'd had a few of those in my time. I ducked my head under for a couple heartbeats, then tasted the water streaming down my face. Sweet. I skimmed up a mouthful and the coolness ran down through my chest.
"Try it, Luke," I said. But he wasn't beside me. He was standing on the sand, pack beside him, shading his eyes with one hand -- just staring. It confused me before I remembered. I tried to see it through his eyes for a moment: precious water stretching out to the horizon, the hypnotising pound of the tide, wonderful and alien. "Come on in, Luke," I called. "The water's fine."
He still stood there and I thought about coming up to get him, stripping off his gear, coaxing him into the water. Pulling him down to the wet sand, stroking him as the tide swirled up beneath us. I blinked the vision away. Good thing the water was cool.
Then his eyes found me and he nodded. He shucked his clothes and I didn't watch him, just lay back in a float until I heard him wading out. He stopped and just stood there, submerged to his waist, moving his hands back and forth under the water.
Enough, already. I hit the surface at an angle and sent a spray right at his face. He stared at me, looking surprised, confused, maybe a little hurt. And then he smiled. My weakness, my fatal flaw -- Luke Skywalker's smile. And it distracted me long enough for him to splash me back.
The water fight was the most fun I'd had in months, maybe years. A little bit of boyhood back. The heat of the sun, the coolness of the water, the air in my lungs as I yelled. It drove away everything except the moment and we were nearly hysterical when I dove under the water and ducked him.
Mistake. He struggled and sucked in water and I pulled him out again, banging him on the back. Smooth one, Antilles. "Sorry, Luke. You OK?"
Still coughing, he nodded. Good, I hadn't killed him. He had a drowned rodent look, hair plastered to his scalp, making his nose seem long and sharp.
"I forgot you couldn't swim."
"It never crossed my mind before now." He dipped his hand into the water, just swirling it around.
"Do you want to learn?"
"Yeah. Is it hard?"
"Depends how smart you are, Hotshot." I grinned and he flicked a few drops of water at my face. "Got your breath back?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Okay. First you need to learn to float. It's easy. Just don't breathe in. Face down to start."
I helped him and kept my hand under his chest, lightly, as he made the dead man in the water. His back gleamed pale under the sun.
He learned fast, like I thought he would. We went on from floating to paddling almost right away. After a couple of hours, he was stroking respectably. I kept my hands to myself, mostly, and it wasn't that hard.
Luke stood and shook some of the water out of his hair. "Well, professor? Do I pass?"
"You'll do for now. Final exam isn't until day after tomorrow. You might pass, if the teacher likes you."
"What about I pass or the teacher gets a black eye?"
"You just try it, Hotshot." I wanted to duck him again, but his skin was starting to redden a little. "We should put on more UV cream."
"Yeah." He looked at his arms. "You'd think I'd be used to the sun, but I never was."
We splashed back up to our packs and Luke let me do that spot between his shoulder blades. I pushed my thumbs into the muscle and felt him move into it just a little. Maybe I'd try that later.
He turned back to face me. "Do you want to swim some more?"
Hmm. "I think I just want to sit on the beach for a while." I fished my shorts out of the pile. No need to get sand up my ass. I settled down, a little closer to the water. Luke didn't move for a bit and I sort of hoped he'd go back in to swim some more. Easier to watch him that way.
He dropped down beside me, though, and that was fine too. It had been a long day. We didn't speak, just stared out at the sea, the horizon. I dragged my fingers through the sand, combing it into ridges. I dug a little deeper, pulled out a shell and a stone, patted the sand into the beginnings of a castle. Soon we were both working on it, a building high as we could make it. We argued about fortification -- I wanted a moat, he wanted a fence. We compromised on a trench with stakes.
As we knelt to our work, the sun was behind Luke, throwing his face into shadow. "Having fun?" I asked him.
"Yeah." He looked up at me. "I am."
His hair had dried funny -- it was too long anyhow -- and the breeze blew it back a bit. "Any time." Any time, Luke. Dammit, I hated feeling this way. I couldn't afford to feel this way. Like I was fifteen again and writing poetry to toss through Sisu's window. I hated it, but I looked at him and it was too late. I was going to kiss him, going to push him down onto the sand, going to lie beside him and touch him just like she'd touched me, that first time.
I was and I started to lean forward and I put my hand down right on the sharpest twig in the fence. "Damn!" I stared at my palm -- a red mark, but the skin was unbroken. Unlike the moment.
"You okay, Wedge?"
I nodded without looking up. I heard him stand and walk down the beach. Lying back, I rubbed sand into my hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Got your breath back, Antilles? My head was pounding, so I stripped again and swam out into the ocean as far as I thought was safe. Then I waited there, treading water and plunging my head under until my anger was gone. It took thirteen dips.
When I got back to shore, the light was almost gone and I was cold. At the top of the beach, Luke had set up camp, such as it was, and built a fire. I dressed and joined him.
"Hungry?" He held out a bowl of stew to me.
"Thanks, Luke." It tasted wonderful: hot, wholesome, and a little spicy. "It's good."
He smiled and I smiled, then we tucked in and finished it all. Luke made tea and we sat by the fire and talked, about the Rebellion and the action we'd seen, about food, about the plants around the campsite. About nothing. It was comfortable and I felt better.
I was tired and Luke was yawning, so we broke out the bedrolls and settled down on either side of the fire. I lay on my back and looked up at the stars.
"Wedge."
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for bringing me along."
I didn't look at him. "You're welcome. Good night, Luke."
"Night, Wedge."
Tucking my hands beneath my head, I lay there imagining what he looked like sleeping until I figured I could turn and see for myself. Through the flicker of the dying fire, I saw his head pillowed on his arms, face relaxed, smiling a little, hair straggling over his forehead.
I thought about going over there, about brushing the hair away and kissing his cheek. I thought about sliding my arms around him, holding him against me. I thought about peeling off his clothes, stroking his bare skin. About teaching him a few more things. Maybe he already knew them. Never hurts to practise, thought.
But it was myself I touched, not him. In my mind he was awake and he came to me and he was begging for it. Yeah, Hotshot, we can put that pretty mouth to good use. I pushed him down, wound my fingers in his hair, harder than I needed to. Come on, Golden Boy. Work it. In my mind, he sucked me off, eyes wide and locked on my own. Not many more strokes and I was there. Practice makes perfect.
As I drifted off, I dreamed that he'd be with me in the morning, wrapped warm around me, waking me with drowsy kisses along my neck and cheek.
I woke alone, with the sun in my eyes. Luke's bedroll was empty. The fire was cold. Sitting up, I yawned a bit and wondered where he'd got to.
"Luke?" I should make the fire, I thought, brew some tea, eat some breakfast, clean up the campsite.
I heard a splash. "Come on in, Wedge," Luke yelled. "The water's fine."
So I did.