So far everyone's buying it. It makes the disappointment of their informant not showing palatable.
Luke strolls out towards the rain-slick, permacrete street, waiting for Han to catch up.
No spacescapers or bigger, more advanced buildings than huts in the distance. Not many landspeeders or hover bikes, but there's certainly no hauler cars or chopters. A dot of the occasional light pole guides the way, but otherwise, not much electricity happening in the marshy wetlands.
Thunder rumbles overhead when Han joins him, absently pushing his bangs out of his face. They wander in the direction of the rental motor inns, remaining side-by-side. Han mutters down to him, and Luke can sense the discomfort — he does feel a little sorry.
"Mind explaining what the hell that was back there?"
"That did the trick, didn't it? Made us less suspicious, which is what we needed," Luke insists. He's not trying to be difficult, but it's hard to not get exasperated when Han makes faces like a temper-inclined child. "C'mon, Han, are you seriously—?"
He stiffens up, going quiet after a breathy, confused noise. Han crowds him out of nowhere, circling an arm to Luke's waist.
"Don't look up, kid," he tells Luke, lowering his head and whispering sternly. "Lean on me and act like you're close to losing your lunch."
Luke can figure out what's going on in moments, as soon as he feels the new, heavier presence, and smells the pungent odor of what has to be dead, rotting-meat of animal. It waters his eyes, which helps the effect of Luke forcing a groan and clinging weakly to Han's side. The stranger — strangers — based on multiple shadows being cast on the ground.
They gab away in a thick, gurgling language Luke's ears aren't familiar with.
But, before he knows it, Han is leading him away.
"Shoot, we were really in for it…" Han says, nearly laughing out his words, but not releasing the other man.
Luke avoids glancing up, partly for the charade, and partly for the warmth. "What did they want—ow," he complains, stumbling over a pile of litter. Like an idiot. His neck and cheeks redden when Han's burly arm tightens instinctively around him.
"Askin' about you and what business we had being here."
"… We should probably be more careful then."
Or at least get more convincing.
*
Han yells about needing a sparkstick when the lumen-beam on the tablestand whirs off.
With the gentlest nudge of his Force abilities, Luke summons the charge of the lumen globe to return.
It's not like they're getting much done in the room, anyway. Han spends the rest of the evening fiddling with the gears of his old, improved macrobinoculars and cursing, banging his tools. Luke observes him in concealed, unspoken amusement and then tries to convince himself to meditate, pulling his legs into a crossing position and shutting his eyes.
He takes deep, steadying breathes in and out, emptying his mind — until he simply can't.
It's…
Luke opens his eyes, jerking to full attention. Someone's here.
He makes a cutting, sharp motion over his sternum for a 'shut up' at Han who glances over in curiosity. Luke heaves himself off one of the twin cots, reaching hurriedly on the tablestand for a stylus.
On a flimsiplast, he scribbles out: WE WERE FOLLOWED.
Han's eyebrows furrow together.
Luke gestures to the written words, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring.
Taking it from Luke's hands, Han scribbles down with a growing smirk: REALLY? HADN'T NOTICED.
A low, frustrated sound and then Luke yanks the flimsi back.
THEY'RE LISTENING TO US RIGHT NOW, HOTSHOT. OUTSIDE THE DOOR.
Luke crumples it up and throws it in aggravation at Han's chest. He opens up the new message. Recognition and dread floods Han's expression, but only for a minute. Luke witnesses it quickly get replaced by the signature Han Solo grin.
THEN BUCKLE UP FOR THE RIDE. LET'S GIVE THEM A GOOD SHOW.
The anticipation rushes so suddenly and so overwhelming, and Luke feels a molten, floating sensation traveling inside his ribcage. Han's voice projects loud enough, with just the right amount of seduction and impatient attitude. "Come here… don't be like that."
What Luke doesn't expect is to be manhandled, Han fiercely picking him up by the hips like he weighs nothing and depositing him onto Luke's own twin-cot. The older man situates above him, without touching him further, Luke's knees spread open and cradling against Han's hips.
Han counters the outwardly scandalized, flushing look with his own 'get with the kriffing program' stare.
This is it — they're going to pretend to have sex to keep their aliases?
Fill: Better Than a Kiss (Luke/Han - NSFW, blood, nonconsensual drug use) - 2/?
So far everyone's buying it. It makes the disappointment of their informant not showing palatable.
Luke strolls out towards the rain-slick, permacrete street, waiting for Han to catch up.
No spacescapers or bigger, more advanced buildings than huts in the distance. Not many landspeeders or hover bikes, but there's certainly no hauler cars or chopters. A dot of the occasional light pole guides the way, but otherwise, not much electricity happening in the marshy wetlands.
Thunder rumbles overhead when Han joins him, absently pushing his bangs out of his face. They wander in the direction of the rental motor inns, remaining side-by-side. Han mutters down to him, and Luke can sense the discomfort — he does feel a little sorry.
"Mind explaining what the hell that was back there?"
"That did the trick, didn't it? Made us less suspicious, which is what we needed," Luke insists. He's not trying to be difficult, but it's hard to not get exasperated when Han makes faces like a temper-inclined child. "C'mon, Han, are you seriously—?"
He stiffens up, going quiet after a breathy, confused noise. Han crowds him out of nowhere, circling an arm to Luke's waist.
"Don't look up, kid," he tells Luke, lowering his head and whispering sternly. "Lean on me and act like you're close to losing your lunch."
Luke can figure out what's going on in moments, as soon as he feels the new, heavier presence, and smells the pungent odor of what has to be dead, rotting-meat of animal. It waters his eyes, which helps the effect of Luke forcing a groan and clinging weakly to Han's side. The stranger — strangers — based on multiple shadows being cast on the ground.
They gab away in a thick, gurgling language Luke's ears aren't familiar with.
But, before he knows it, Han is leading him away.
"Shoot, we were really in for it…" Han says, nearly laughing out his words, but not releasing the other man.
Luke avoids glancing up, partly for the charade, and partly for the warmth. "What did they want—ow," he complains, stumbling over a pile of litter. Like an idiot. His neck and cheeks redden when Han's burly arm tightens instinctively around him.
"Askin' about you and what business we had being here."
"… We should probably be more careful then."
Or at least get more convincing.
*
Han yells about needing a sparkstick when the lumen-beam on the tablestand whirs off.
With the gentlest nudge of his Force abilities, Luke summons the charge of the lumen globe to return.
It's not like they're getting much done in the room, anyway. Han spends the rest of the evening fiddling with the gears of his old, improved macrobinoculars and cursing, banging his tools. Luke observes him in concealed, unspoken amusement and then tries to convince himself to meditate, pulling his legs into a crossing position and shutting his eyes.
He takes deep, steadying breathes in and out, emptying his mind — until he simply can't.
It's…
Luke opens his eyes, jerking to full attention. Someone's here.
He makes a cutting, sharp motion over his sternum for a 'shut up' at Han who glances over in curiosity. Luke heaves himself off one of the twin cots, reaching hurriedly on the tablestand for a stylus.
On a flimsiplast, he scribbles out: WE WERE FOLLOWED.
Han's eyebrows furrow together.
Luke gestures to the written words, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring.
Taking it from Luke's hands, Han scribbles down with a growing smirk: REALLY? HADN'T NOTICED.
A low, frustrated sound and then Luke yanks the flimsi back.
THEY'RE LISTENING TO US RIGHT NOW, HOTSHOT. OUTSIDE THE DOOR.
Luke crumples it up and throws it in aggravation at Han's chest. He opens up the new message. Recognition and dread floods Han's expression, but only for a minute. Luke witnesses it quickly get replaced by the signature Han Solo grin.
THEN BUCKLE UP FOR THE RIDE. LET'S GIVE THEM A GOOD SHOW.
The anticipation rushes so suddenly and so overwhelming, and Luke feels a molten, floating sensation traveling inside his ribcage. Han's voice projects loud enough, with just the right amount of seduction and impatient attitude. "Come here… don't be like that."
What Luke doesn't expect is to be manhandled, Han fiercely picking him up by the hips like he weighs nothing and depositing him onto Luke's own twin-cot. The older man situates above him, without touching him further, Luke's knees spread open and cradling against Han's hips.
Han counters the outwardly scandalized, flushing look with his own 'get with the kriffing program' stare.
This is it — they're going to pretend to have sex to keep their aliases?