Hues
A SW fic by Morgan D.

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"He looks awful," Han growled to himself.

Sitting across the table from him, Leia heard him anyway. "Who?"

Han lowered his voice to a whisper, so no one else in the crowded mess hall would hear him. "Your brother."

He could have simply said Luke's name, of course. That would have been much safer, and much more logical. Why didn't he? Well, for one thing, Han was still trying to adjust to the idea that the girl he was currently dating and the kid he used to have hot sex with were actually twins. Also, weird things happened when Han said Luke's name sometimes. Weird, embarrassing, hard-to-explain things. Such as his voice getting hoarse all of a sudden, or his skin getting conspicuously warm. Silly reactions Han didn't like and felt much too old for.

Leia frowned and, very discreetly, turned around until she spotted her brother carrying a food tray to a table on the other side of the room. As if sensing her gaze — and maybe he did —, Luke looked back at her, grinned and waved. He didn't join them at their table, though, as he would surely have done in other times — before Endor. Instead, Luke took a seat beside Wasbereth, a beautiful, dark-skinned girl who worked at droid maintenance.

Leia returned her attention to the plate in front of her, not before letting out an impatient sigh. Which would be the twelfth impatient sigh she had let out since she and Han had met for lunch, and about the two-hundredth in the last few days. For some reason Han couldn't fathom, she hadn't been in the best of moods lately. Particularly around him. "He looks all right to me," she muttered.

"Then you're blind, sweetheart." Probably not the smartest tone to use when she was already upset, but if she really hadn't noticed it...

Leia turned again to take a longer look. This time Luke didn't raise his head from the animated conversation he was having with the girl.

"I really don't see it, Han."

Han, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring at Luke. "Green."

"Green?" Leia squinted, examining her brother's face as best as she could from that distance. She caught no signs of illness. "I don't think he looks green, no. He's even blushing..."

"Not his skin, his clothes!"

"What?"

"He's wearing that new green jacket of his again. It's the fourth day in a row."

"So...?"

"Well, someone should tell him that he looks awful in it."

"Ah." Leia rolled her eyes. "Why don't you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"Why me?"

"For one thing, you're the one who's worried about it."

"I'm not worried..."

"And I can't help you there anyway, since I don't even think he looks bad in green."

"It's not green in general," Han tried to argue. "I'm talking about that... specific... sort of... a-Rancor-ate-too-many-Gamorreans-for-dinner-and-puked-his-insides-out shade of green."

Leia made a face, looking at her almost full plate with disgust. "Thanks, Han. I've seen a Rancor eating a Gamorrean, and that was exactly the image I wanted in my mind while I have lunch."

Han smiled at her, apologetic. She responded with a resentful glare.

He did feel sorry, though. He knew very well the circumstances in which Leia had had the opportunity to watch such a distasteful spectacle: when she had stepped away from the Rebellion to pursue the personal mission of going after her lover, risking her life to rescue him from Jabba's palace, and ending up in a slave girl suit, chained to the big slug's throne. Talk about disgusting images.

She loved him. She had given him proof of that time and again. She hadn't been acting like she loved him much lately, but that was what you got with human females, right? Those annoying, unpredictable, incomprehensible mood swings. Hopefully everything would return to normal in a couple of days more, and their arguments would be followed by long making-up sessions, and not by cold silence and embittered glares.

It might help if you'd stop remarking on her brother's clothes, Solo told himself sarcastically. Now that he thought about it, it had been a rather girlie comment to make. Why should he care about what Luke wore? On the other hand, maybe if he complimented Leia for her dress or for her shoes, she would act more, well, friendly towards him?

"I never took you for a fashion expert," said Leia, giving her food another half-hearted try.

"Fashion is not the issue. I just think he should play to his strengths."

"Play to his strengths. What in blazes are you talking about?"

"Well, we want him to find someone, don't we? I mean, we don't want him to feel... you know... lonely." Han kept a smile on his face, hoping the words hadn't sounded as artificial as they had to his own ears.

Leia let her fork drop and pushed her tray aside. "No, of course not. I want Luke to be happy. You want Luke to be happy."

Han frowned at her tone. She sounded sincere, but also... tired? Angry? Disappointed?

"Your point being...?" she prompted. "You don't think Luke is attractive enough?"

"Of course he's attractive!" A second too late, Han wished he hadn't agreed so fast. "But that doesn't mean Rancor puke looks good on him. He should learn to pick clothes that bring out his good traits, learn to match colours and different hues..." And sure, that hadn't sounded girlie at all. "No one will ever want to date him if he keeps wearing that jacket."

Leia arched an eyebrow, and took yet another look at her brother. And because luck was obviously a female entity and Han's luck was accordingly prone to disconcerting mood swings, Wasbereth chose that very moment to give Luke a peck on the lips.

Han found himself clutching the cutlery in his hands.

"Yes, Han, I can see what you mean," Leia sneered.

"I suppose there are those who think Rancor puke is aphrodisiac," Solo grumbled. He wished Luke would glance in his direction, if just for a second. Maybe if he focused his mind firmly on Luke's face, the kid would sense his gaze, like he had sensed Leia's a minute ago...

Nah, nothing. Either it had to be a Force-sensitive doing the gazing, or Luke was simply too wrapped up in Wasbereth's charms to notice anything around him.

Or maybe Luke was just determined not to look at him. That would be just like Luke, wouldn't it? Absolutely stubborn once his mind was made up. He had promised he would forget Han and move on, so that was exactly what he would do. Luke always kept his promises.

With a grimace, Han finally drew his eyes away... and found Leia observing him with a crease on her forehead. It dawned on him that he had been staring at Luke for a long, long while.

She reached out with her hand to brush her fingers through his hair. Her face relaxed somewhat, her lips were curved in a rueful smile. "You should tell him."

Han gulped. "What?"

Her hand came down to caress his cheek, her thumb tracing the old scar on the chin. "About the jacket. You should tell him."

She looked so sad, and so beautiful. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her madly.

He wanted to run to Luke's table, drag him away from pretty technicians and ugly jackets, and kiss him madly.

He wanted to flee in a mad run.

Paralysed, he saw Leia rise from her seat and circle the table to stand beside him. "Go, tell him. But let him keep it, if that's what he wants." She leaned down to kiss him.

Han had expected a possessive kiss, and was surprised by the heart-breaking sweetness of her touch. A full-fledged, sincerely loving kiss, and yet it felt so fragile, as if the softest breeze could blow them apart.

She left without another word or glance at him.

The Corellian turned his attention back to Luke's table, just in time to witness another peck between the kid and Wasbereth. Longer this time. And initiated by Luke.

Han pushed his food tray away, his appetite gone.

Why Wasbereth? Fine, she had some sex appeal. But nothing truly extraordinary. And she had horrible taste. Well, not in men, obviously, but in clothes.

Oh yes, Han knew where the Rancor puke jacket had come from. He had seen Wasbereth giving Luke the dreadful garment four days before. Han had been too far away to hear what they had said, but he didn't miss the girl's unabashedly flirty smiles. He had hoped Luke would have the sense to look for better company, but apparently... apparently, he had been wrong.

Han very much hated that damn jacket.

Eventually, Luke and Wasbereth finished their lunch and left the mess hall. Solo caught himself following them without having really decided to do so.

The couple separated when they got to the elevators, after another kiss. The girl took the corridor that would lead her back to her work, while Luke waited for the car. Only then did Han decide to approach.

"Hey, kid."

Luke greeted him with a friendly grin. "Hey. Where's Leia?"

Han frowned a little, partly at the idea that he and Leia had to be chained together at any given time, partly at the realisation that he had no idea where Leia was at the moment. "You know," he shrugged. "Work."

"How is she?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Well, actually, she's been a little cranky."

"Something bothering her?"

"She hasn't told me anything."

"Ah." Luke's lips twitched in a funny way. "Perhaps..."

"Please don't tell me I should ask her. She doesn't want me to ask her. Either it's one of those monthly things and I'm not supposed to comment on how she's crankier than usual, or she's found something to be upset about me and she'll be even more upset that I need to ask to find out what she's upset about."

"Alright, alright," Luke chuckled. "No suggestions from me. You have much more experience with women than I do anyway."

"Yeah, but I can see that you're working on that." Han pointed in the direction Wasbereth had disappeared, putting a playful — and very false — grin on his face.

"I suppose I am," said Luke, lowering his head to futilely hide his blushing.

Han suddenly felt that it would be really nice if he could sock something. Preferably Wasbereth's nose. Or maybe his own nose — if that was physically possible. After all, it was illogical to resent someone for taking what he had refused first. "So... how's that going?"

"Really well, I think. She's really... nice."

"Well, good for you." Wow, that must have sounded as sincere as a love poem to Boba Fett...

Luke didn't seem to notice anything off, though. "Thanks."

The elevator car arrived, and when all eight people inside had disembarked, Luke stepped inside. Han stood by the door.

"Up or down?" Luke asked.

"Uh... Actually... I wanted to talk to you about something." Did he?

"Come inside then."

Han did. And as the doors closed, he realised that all he wanted was to be near the Jedi for a little while more.

"So... what is it?" Luke prompted.

With no time to come up with something, he grabbed the first thought that came to him. "Hm, it's... about this jacket."

Almost surreally, Luke's eyes lit up. "My jacket?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"Well... it's..." What could he say that would not sound outrageously girlie? "It's not very manly."

"Oh." That clearly took the kid by surprise. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Wasbereth gave it to me."

"I know. But still... I don't think you should wear it."

"That bad?"

"Oh yes," Solo nodded categorically. "I know you don't want to insult the girl..."

"I'm not so worried about that, to be honest."

Han blinked. "No?"

Luke was biting his lower lip, and looking at Han in an odd, anxious way. "It's just... You see, Han..." But he trailed off after that.

"Yes...?"

It was as if the kid was fighting with what he was going to say.

Han's heartbeat gained speed fast.

The elevator doors opened.

"Sorry, broken car!" Solo shouted, hastily pushing back the group of people that tried to come in and hitting the button to close the doors.

"Oh boy," Luke murmured. "Was that General Rieekan?"

"Who cares? I'm a general too now," Han snapped, commanding the elevator to stop between floors. "What were you going to say?"

The Jedi took a deep breath, clearly looking for words.

Han stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

"I am not supposed to..." Luke whispered, as if talking to himself.

"It's okay," Han soothed him. "It's okay, just say it."

Luke nodded, and stared deeply into Han's eyes. "I don't get presents every day."

Solo waited for something else to come, but it didn't happen. "What?"

"I said I don't get presents every day."

Yeah, that was how it had sounded the first time too.

Still, Luke kept looking at him expectantly, breathing a tiny bit too fast through slightly open lips.

"You mean that you get presents so rarely that you have to treasure the few ones you've got?" asked Han, unconvinced. For one thing, it wasn't that rare for the kid to receive gifts. He had always been very popular among the Rebels, and even if his new Jedi status had cast a certain aura that put people at a greater distance than before, there were still many trying to win his friendship or, if they were that naïve, his favours. Not to mention those trying to get into his pants, thought Han grudgingly.

Luke shook his head. "No, I'm just saying..." Another long, deep breath. "I don't get presents every day."

What the hell... "Is that a riddle or something? Because I..." Han held his tongue.

Luke had smiled — and quickly wiped all traces of that smile afterwards — at the word 'riddle'.

Wonderful. Riddles. Han hated them with a passion. "You don't get presents every day."

"No, I don't. Not every day." Luke's tone was encouraging.

"Okay..." With a scowl, Han started a mental list of occasions when people were traditionally offered presents.

He didn't have to think that much.

"Fuck." A glance at the date on the face of his chrono, and he had his suspicion confirmed. "Your birthday. I completely forgot."

"Afraid you did, pirate." But Luke didn't seem upset about it. On the contrary, there was this big, relieved smile on his face.

"Luke, I'm sorry. Really, I am." It wasn't Han's style to even keep track of people's birthdays — Luke's was one of the very few he had memorised —, and he had seldom worried about presents or parties... But considering all that had happened between them, he felt that forgetting Luke's birthday was one discourtesy too many.

Besides, it hurt him now to think that he could have had Luke wearing his present instead of Wasbereth's. Han could not touch his friend's soft skin any more, but that disgusting jacket could...

The kid laughed. "Don't sweat. I came this close to forgetting it myself. I was lucky that Artoo reminded me just in time."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you lucky that Artoo reminded you? It's not like you had to run to buy a present to yourself."

Luke's smile was instantly replaced by a worried frown. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh? What? Am I still missing something?"

But the Jedi didn't answer. In fact, he actually covered his mouth with both hands.

"You can't talk?" Han ventured.

Luke's arms relaxed, and his head bowed in a millimetric nod.

"And I have to figure out the answer for myself," Solo huffed. "Great. You're so much like your sister sometimes."

Luke offered him a tight grin.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment, kid. Then again, what else should I have expected? After all, you're twins..."

Luke arched an eyebrow, his grin gaining an impish edge.

Han banged the back of his head on the wall. "...and twins have the same birthday."

"Usually, yes," Luke chuckled. "Unless there're frozen embryos involved, but that's not our case."

So the mystery behind Leia's crankiness was revealed. "She's gonna give me hell for months because of that, won't she?"

"Months? Nah. More like years or decades." At Han's terrified look, Luke smirked. "Just kidding."

"Why couldn't that whistling bucket of yours have given me the heads-up too?"

"Uh, possibly because you keep calling him a 'whistling bucket'? Artoo can be very sensitive at times."

"Right. Everyone is so damn sensitive."

"I'm sorry, Han. She asked me not to say anything. She wanted to know if you'd remember on your own eventually."

"Will you be in trouble with her now?"

"I don't think so. I didn't really tell you, did I? And she only told me not to say anything. She said nothing about visual hints."

"Visual hints?" Solo frowned. "Is that why you've been wearing that jacket since you got it?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't for its beauty," Luke sighed, scowling down at the garment. "Don't take me wrong, I'm touched by the thought, Wasbereth was so sweet to remember and give it to me... but this colour? I feel like I'm wearing something that Jabba regurgitated."

For reasons he would not be quite able to explain if he had been asked, Han suddenly felt very happy and warm inside.

"You should give her something," Luke suggested. "A belated birthday present. With a big apology."

"I should give you something too," said Solo.

Luke shook his head. "No need."

"I want to give you something. I can't just forget you."

The words somehow managed to echo in the confined space of the elevator.

Stepping away from the Corellian, the Jedi commanded the car upwards. "Our being here must be making things harder for other people."

Han decided to ignore the double-meaning comment. "What should I give you?" Ask me for a kiss, he thought, rather irrationally.

"I really don't need anything more if I have your friendship."

No, Luke would never ask for more than that.

It was Han's problem if he kept wanting to give more.

The doors opened to reveal the contemptuous glares of two dozen awaiting people. Carlist Rieekan was indeed there, and didn't seem very pleased.

"The car is safe for your use now," said Luke calmly, in that distant, ever-sober voice he had whenever he assumed his Jedi-ness.

Without a single protest, the crowd parted to let him pass.

Han did not follow him.

Rieekan, along with nine more people, entered the elevator, and Solo found himself squeezed against the back wall.

"Very thoughtful, General Solo," said Rieekan.

"What?"

"You and Commander Skywalker repairing the elevator on your own."

"Oh. It was nothing."

"Any reason why you didn't want to call a maintenance team?"

"Uh, we were here, and it wasn't that big a deal, we could have the bug fixed in no time."

"I see." As the elevator stopped at another floor, some people left, others came inside, and Rieekan took the chance to stand closer to Han. "Are you sure it's all... fixed... now?"

Han didn't doubt for a second that the question had nothing to do with the elevator car. Rieekan was, after all, Alderaanian and very protective of Leia. "Yes," he said evenly. "All running smooth, don't worry."

"Good. I'm glad."

Han got out on the next stop, not really caring which floor it was.

"General Solo?" called Rieekan after him. "I'll have someone send you the proper forms."

"Forms?"

"Yes, all repairs must be reported to Maintenance, you know." The smirk on the man's face was positively derisive. The doors closed between them before Han could come up with a reply.

Whatever happiness Han had felt a moment ago had vaporised just as quickly.

Muttering curses from a hundred different planets, he started towards the hangar where the Millennium Falcon was. Hopefully he would find Chewie there, and the Wookiee would be able to help him think of a belated birthday present for Leia. And for Luke.

Oh yes, he was going to give the kid something. Something blue, to match his eyes.

To match the way they all felt.

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