another obligatory 'luke can't handle off-planet weather' fic

***

Luke sat miserably at the mess table, arms wrapped around his knees that he had pulled up to his chest. The rest of his squadron watched him with amusement, calmly eating their lunch without so much as a shiver. Luke was immensely jealous of them.

       It wasn't as if he had never been cold before. Tatooine had definitely had its fair share of chilly nights, a fact many people forgot about the desert. However, Luke had never been on a kriffing snow planet. Stars, there were times as a child he thought snow was just a myth. He had never seen rain a day in his life, much less seen it get cold enough to turn into snow. Now here he was on Hoth, seeing what he had taken to spitefully calling 'white sand' everywhere.

       Much like he had on Yavin IV with the rain, Han had been teasing him mercilessly, which was not helping Luke's ever-growing crush on the older man at all. Not that it mattered; it was blatantly obvious that Han had eyes for Leia and only saw Luke as a nuisance equivalent to a younger brother. Since they had met, Han had treated him as nothing more than a naive child, even calling him 'kid' when he addressed him. He didn't hate the term completely, just the connotation behind it that he would never be anything more than a friend to the smuggler. He pouted at the thought, curling tighter into himself. It was times like these he wished Biggs were still alive, another desert-native who would understand his sensitivity to the intense temperatures of off-planet climates and sympathize with him. But instead his oldest friend and first love was nothing but particles in the void of space, blended together with the other thousands of casualties of the Death Star's destruction. 

       A hand tapped on his mess tray and he looked up, sure he looked a mess with his hair a frazzled disaster and his eyes lidded and sunken. He could almost feel icicles forming on his lashes as he looked through them. His bunkmate, Wedge, was smiling sympathetically down at him, the faintest lines of concern overlayed on his brow.

       "You good, Luke?"

       Luke shrugged, trying not to look too much like a huffy child. He knew he was one of the younger members of his squadron—a fact they constantly reminded him of when they were out drinking and refused to let him have any, even though Luke had definitely had alcohol before, thank you very much—but he tried not to show it in his behavior. Han had once had the audacity to tell him that he whined and he had been so offended that he hadn't spoken to him for a week.

      Which, in hindsight he supposed proved the Corellian's point about his oversensitivity, but that didn't mean he had to admit it out loud.

      He sighed, banging his head on the table and startling Wes, who was sitting beside him. The other man poked him in the neck, getting nothing but a groan in response. "I think this planet is finally killing him."

       Hobbie snorted, Wedge elbowing him in the ribs as he did so.

       "Leave him alone. He's from a desert planet," Wedge defended, frowning down at his friend.

       "It's just as cold for him as it is for the rest of us," Tycho commented, raising an eyebrow, "He's just being dramatic."

       Wes kept poking Luke. "Nah, I think these Tatooinians have this thing in their DNA that shuts their body down in any temperatures colder than a breezy day—oomph,"

        Luke reached up and shoved Janson hard in the stomach, the pilot nearly toppling from his seat as Hobbie cackled.

       "You guys suck," Luke grumbled, slowly peeling his head from the chilled metal table, shivers still racking his shoulders. He felt miserable and feverish, confident he had contracted some kind of illness. He had never been off-world before joining the Rebellion, so there was the possibility that he had contracted some rare illness he had never been vaccinated for and now he was going to start a mass outbreak on base.

       Great going, Skywalker. You save the Rebellion one minute and the next you're their downfall.

       Luke sniffled, grimacing as he felt his nose begin to run. The tip of it had already gone numb and he still couldn't feel his fingers through his poorly insulated gloves. He glared up at his unaffected squadmates, sure that they had some weird secret to staying warm. That or his desert body really was naturally designed to shut down under a chill like Wes had said.

        Wedge fought a snicker at the patheticness of his friend's sniffles. Luke sneezed loudly and abruptly, catching the attention of others in the mess hall and immediately going bright red, his head ducked in embarrassment. Wedge quickly softened, reaching over and patting Luke on the shoulder. "Why don't you get some rest, huh?"

        "Bunk's cold too," Luke muttered, making a face at the thought of the hard cot the Rebellion considered a mattress and how the additional thin blanket provided no protection against the bitter arctic air. 

       "What about Solo?" Tycho put in, watching as Luke went from red to absolute crimson.

       "W-What about him?" Luke sputtered, visibly panicked enough that his squadron began to laugh. "Guys!"

      Wes nudged Luke playfully, reaching to ruffle his hair before Luke pushed his hand away, scowling. "Oh come on, Skywalker."

      "What?"

      "Solo."

      "You like him," Hobbie singsonged.

      "I do not."

       "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Luke," Wedge said with a wink. "Han's a decent-looking guy."

      Luke stumbled for words, simply gaping. He was so astonished he nearly forgot about the cold. Finally he just sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Whatever...still don't know what he has to do with me being cold."

       "You said the bunk's too cold," Tycho continued. "So sleep in his ship. Everyone knows he's got his own personal heating system. And you're the only person he'd let use it."

      Luke's brow furrowed.

      "Well, that is if that piece of junk still works," Hobbie cut in, getting a laugh out of Wes.

      Luke shook his head, ignoring them. "Han would let Leia use it too."

      Tycho shrugged thoughtfully. "Yeah, probably. But she's the princess, I'm sure her quarters are warmer than ours."

      "I don't think—"

      "Just go ask, Luke," said Wedge, eyes insistent. "Watching you suffer is only entertaining for so long. Now it's just worrying."

      Wes cooed mockingly. "Aw, Antilles has a heart."

      Wedge glowered at him. "One more word out of you, Janson..."

     "Okay, okay,"  Wes laughed, putting his hands up.

       Luke smiled lightly. "Alright, I'll go if it'll make you guys feel better."

       "Tell Han we said hi!" Wes called as Luke rose to his feet and began his sluggish walk out of the mess. He rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, glad he had his friends.

        Once he made it to Falcon however, he began to have second thoughts. His throat grew dry and his knees grew wobbly. His very uncomfortable bed was beginning to seem a lot more appealing than before. Turning on his heel, he was almost able to escape before he heard the telltale sound of boots thumping down the lowered hatch.

       "Kid?"

      Luke put on a weak smile like his heart wasn't pounding in his throat and turned around slowly. Han was standing there wiping his hands on a oil-stained rag and wearing his parka with the hood down, his welding goggles pushed up into his hair. Luke hated it when he did that—which actually meant that he loved it. His brown hair was a mess of waves all over the place, exposing the entirety of his face—his wicked smile, his sparkling hazel eyes... Luke shook his head, chuckling nervously.

      "Han, uh, hey." He swore under his breath.

      Hey? How old are you, thirteen?

      Han chuckled, raising a curious eyebrow. "You alright?"

      "Yeah!" Luke said too quickly, "I just...cold."

     Kriff.

      Han eyed him up and down, taking in his measly Rebellion-issued jacket, pants and boots. The realization visibly dawned on him and he nodded. "You're looking for the warmest place on base, yeah?"

      Luke shrugged, unable to make eye contact. It was infuriating being reduced to such a babbling mess in front of Han. He hadn't felt like this in years. He was a Jedi, for Force's sake. He was sure Ben or Anakin never did anything like this.

      At least...not that he'd been told. Not like he'd been told a lot.

      Han wasn't an idiot though, he could obviously see the kid's discomfort. Even if he wasn't entirely aware of the full reason for his discomfort, he recognized it all the same. He threw a hand up towards the entrance, a kind twinkle in his eyes.

      "Come on in. I'll get Chewie to heat up something warm for ya." He brightened. "Ever had Corellian stew?"

      Luke shook his head, hair falling annoyingly in his face. He blew it away.

      Han gasped dramatically before jogging down the rest of the ramp and pulling Luke forward by the elbow. Luke jerked at the spark that ran down his arm from the physical contact. "You haven't lived until you've had it. I may have been mainly raised on Kashyyyk, but I've always remembered the recipe."

       Luke paused, looking up at the smuggler. "Kashyyyk?"

       Han shrugged nonchalantly, sealing the hatch behind Luke, shedding his parka, and tossing his dirty rag to the floor where Chewie was sure to holler at him about it later. "Born on Corellia, folks died, taken in by some smugglers, then basically adopted by a Wookiee who we met when I was about...oh I don't know, seven maybe? She was basically my mother. A lot more happened after that of course, but you know how it is."

      Luke listened in intrigue, knowing it wasn't easy to get Han to open up about his past. "That's how you learned Shyriiwook?"

      "Yep," Han said with a pop of the 'p', winking. Luke actively fought the heat rising in his cheeks and instead replaced it with a chilled shudder and another sneeze. Blinking at the sound, Han suddenly moved to the corner and rustled around in a trunk before pulling out a ratty swatch of green fabric. He leaned over Luke's shoulders, the proximity making Luke's breathing stop in his chest.

      Warm hands wrapped the old blanket around Luke and tied it off around his neck like a cape. Luke ran his fingers over the material, smiling. "It's soft."

      Han shoved his hands in his pockets, looking slightly sheepish. "Yeah, well, it's all I got for now. I'll get you more in a sec, I know you must be freezing," he waved a hand up and down, "All desert-y and what-not."

      Luke giggled, ducking his head.

      Han's eyes crinkled warmly before he cleared his throat, pushing his outward emotions down like he always did. "Chewie!"

      A muffled roar came from across the ship followed by the rumbling footsteps of Han's co-pilot. The Wookiee looked rumpled and annoyed until he saw Luke standing in the corner with his blanket-cape. He howled affectionately before stomping over and pulling Luke into him, the boy yelping in surprise as he was suddenly surrounded by giant fluffy arms. A paw began stroking his head, and instead of protesting like he normally did, Luke melted into it, sighing in relief.

      "By the stars, you're so warm."

      Chewie huffed out a chuckle, pulling the much smaller human boy even closer to him. Then he bared his fangs at Han.

      Han gasped in offense. "Hey! It ain't like I made him cold!"

      Trying not to laugh, Luke looked up at his furry friend. "Hey Chewie, Han mentioned something about Corellian stew?"

      Chewie gurgled in response, knowing exactly what Luke was talking about. Not wanting to leave him to freeze though, Chewie barked at Han, who crossed his arms in annoyance.

      "What?"

      "RRGGRGRHRRHHGGR,"

      Han waved him off, "Yeah yeah, I know the one."

      Luke watched their exchange quizzically, wondering if Han would ever teach him some Shyriiwook phrases. How he could decipher what each individual growl meant was beyond Luke's comprehension, but he supposed Han felt the same when Luke once spoke fluent Huttese out loud. It was natural to his tongue, but Han had gaped at him for hours, muttering about how he sounded just like Jabba. Luke hadn't been entirely complimented at being compared to a Hutt, but he supposed it was where Han was most familiar with the language, so he let it go.

      He watched as Han sauntered down the corridor, gone for a few moments before returning with a large coat, the inside laced with clumps of— "Is that bantha fur?"

      "Mmhmm," Han hummed, pulling Luke from the furnace that was Chewbacca's hug and handing him the garment. Luke took it gratefully, running his hand over it before shrugging it on. He exhaled softly, relishing in the warmth that settled over his quivering bones.

      "Does it not get cold on Tatooine?"

      Luke rolled his eyes, "Not this cold, you nerf."

      Chewbacca rumbled behind him and Han nodded at him, the Wookiee lumbering off to leave them alone. Han collapsed into a chair, propping his feet up and gesturing for Luke to do the same.

      Luke sat across from Han, trying to maintain a casual face. The Corellian stretched out in his seat, just enough that his shirt rode up a little, exposing his stomach. Luke whipped his head away, painfully trying not to stare. Han raised an eyebrow at his behavior.

       "You sure you good?"

       "Huh? Oh, yeah. Great," babbled Luke.

      Han nodded slowly, not fully convinced. He put his hands behind his head, gazing wistfully out of the viewport.

      "So how have you been?" Luke tried, watching as Han began to let his eyes flutter closed. Luke bit his lip, taking the opportunity to memorize the details of Han's face, the dots of stubble lined around his chin, the way his calloused hands curled under his oil-caked hair, the shape of his hips--his skin prickled with gooseflesh from the cold.

       "Pretty good." Luke jerked out of his reverie, glad the smuggler's eyes were still closed. He mentally scolded himself for acting weird and looked down in shame. "You?"

      "Fine."

     Han peeked open an eye. "Now I'm no Jedi, but I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say you're lying."

     Luke sighed. "How's Leia?"

     Han sat up, both eyes open. "You're avoiding the topic, Luke."

     "I'm not. Just want to know how Leia is, haven't seen her in a few days."

      Han continued to narrow his eyes at him, noting the lack of eye contact. "She's good. Busy, you know that. Now what's wrong?"

      Luke opened his mouth to respond before Han pointed at him, challenging. "And don't you dare say the cold."

      Chewie walked in then, announcing himself with a roar and unknowingly saving Luke from responding. Han swore under his breath but turned to his co-pilot with a grateful smile. "Thanks, pal." Chewbacca handed him a small pot filled about halfway with a thick, orange liquid. In it were juicy chunks of browned meat, stringy green vegetables, a mix of spices, and cubed peppers. Han dipped a finger into the broth and brought it to his lips, ignoring a scolding bark from Chewie.

       Luke sneezed.

       Han looked up from the pot and chuckled sheepishly. "Right, we made it for you."

      He took the bowl Chewie handed him, pouring a decent amount inside. Luke took it with shaking hands, staring down at the mixed contents.

      Han nodded at him. "Go ahead. Try it."

      Luke continued to stare, thoughtful, before bringing the bowl to his lips and sipping at the broth. Flavor assaulted his tongue and his eyes widened at the sharp spices in his throat. Warmth coarsed its way through his body and he smiled. "Wow."

      "I know, right?" Han smirked, taking his own bowl and handing the rest to Chewie.

      The three of them ate in enjoyable silence, only the sound of slurping and clinking bowls mixing with the dull buzz of the base and the hum of working machinery inside the Falcon.

       Once full, Luke yawned, not realizing how exhausted he was. The cold not only made him ill, but it sapped most of his energy. So much so that he'd begun training less, something that was bothering him a lot. How was he supposed to one day confront Vader if he couldn't even face the wintry weather? Han, as if sensing his thoughts, gathered the bowls and stacked them up on the dash.

      "Come on kid, you can take one of the bunks."

     Luke shakily rose to his feet, drowsily stumbling forward only for a set of arms to hold him upward. Bleary-eyed, Luke looked up slowly, watching as Han pushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. He faintly heard Chewie growl something before he was being lifted off the ground. Awakening suddenly, confused and vaguely alarmed, he was mollified by Han's reassuring shushing, the soothing sound lulling him back to sleep.

      Warm and content, Luke curled into the chest near him and allowed himself to fade into a dreamless void.

      Han looked down at Luke with a fond smile, carrying him with ease as he headed to the bunks. Chewie growled teasingly behind him and Han would've flicked him off if he had had access to his hands.

       He settled for sticking his tongue out at the Wookiee, who ruffed mirthfully.

      Sliding into the room, Han settled Luke down on one of the larger cots, layering another blanket over him and the coat that swamped his small frame. In sleep, Luke looked much younger than he was...which reminded Han how young he actually was. Sighing, he got to his knees and pushed the kid's hair back. He pressed a small kiss to his forehead, blushing as Luke smiled in his sleep.

      Leia had already confronted him about his feelings for Luke, ranting about how the both of them were idiots who should just talk to each other. He wasn't completely sure if Luke felt the same though, despite the princess's insistence. Yes, Luke was shy around him, but who's to say it wasn't just his personality? He was so used to being around such large personalities that Luke's meek demeanor had thrown him off guard. They had been getting very close though, almost like brothers, but Han knew there was more to it than that.

     He took a deep breath before tucking the covers tighter up to Luke's chin, turning out the light and stepping out of the room. After making sure the heat on the Falcon was turned up high and wouldn't blow out randomly from over usage, Han headed back to the cockpit, his head busy with thoughts.

***

A/N

Every so often I get an idea for a short story and something good comes out lol. I'm very proud of this little one-shot, so I hope you all enjoy as well! <3

And Happy Pride Month! 🏳️‍🌈🥰

*space hugs and kisses*

- lucky_ducky_123