Summary: Han has his unique ways to show a friend his affection... Leia is just mentioned, but as I said these short stories will include not only the whole trio, but also one-to-one relationship between two of its members.
Genre: humour
Warnings: none

For KaitoDetective1412 because she sounded like she needed some humour. This is an old one shot of mine I translated, and the original style was quite difficult so forgive me if I made many mistakes. I still hope it can bring a smile on your face (-:

It was late evening in the Red Squadron's dorm of the Yavin IV base, and Luke Skywalker, as he surely deserved, was comfortably minding his own business.

The majority of his companions had decided to have a beer together in the lousy coffee bar on the ground floor, but he hadn't ever appreciated that kind of drink - how he missed his blue milk! This was why the huge, usually crowded room was now all for him. A little moment for himself actually didn't feel bad to Luke, who had settled in his place on the third bunk bed with a good holobook and the enjoyable warmth of the blankets.

However, obviously, something had to go wrong.

The boy was in the middle of a very interesting chapter when the dorm's door opened, revealing an unusually cheerful Han Solo who was happily humming an off-key motif.

"Hey there, kid!" the smuggler exclaimed joyously.

"How many times did I tell you that I don't like being called like that?" Luke muttered.

"That doesn't matter. Come with me, kid, I have to show you something".

"What?".

Han grinned and patted the base of the bunk bed, which scrunched dangerously. "You have to come" he said. "It's important".

Luke rolled his eyes and shifted in the blanket. "Can't I come tomorrow?" he begged. "I'm exhausted, I've been on patrol all day and...".

"Come on!" Han interrupted. "It's a honour! After careful considerations I've come to the conclusion that you are a friend of mine. Not everyone can become friends with Han Solo, we have to celebrate... with something I can only share with my friends".

At these words Luke couldn't help but soften: his smuggler friend (who had been considered such by the younger man for months) wasn't used to showing his feelings so openly.

"Alright" he surrendered. He sighed and picked up from the foot of the bed a jacket to cover the huge T-shirt he used as a pajamas.

"This is what I wanted to hear!" Han exclaimed. "Come on!". He stood on his tiptoes, reached the third bunk and pulled the boy down, too excited to give him the time to get properly dressed.

~~~

After a few minutes the two friends were already by the Millennium Falcon, with Han that couldn't wait for whatever he was planning.

"So, are you gonna tell me what you want to share or not?" Luke asked, now feeling definitely curious.

Han didn't answer; he simply opened the ramp and walked inside the ship, immediately heading for the galley.

The younger pilot couldn't do anything but stare in horror as his friend started to rummage in the different compartments of the kitchen: Han threw on the floor various plastic containers, a few knives, gloves and pot holders, a tin of marinated fish, forks, a few empty bottles of beer and even a small embalmed mammal.

Luke looked away, disgusted, wondering how could a poor stuffed animal have ended up in the ship's kitchen, but Han's triumphant yell interrupted his thoughts.

"Found it!".

The boy glanced at him: merry and delighted, Solo was holding with some reverence a huge, thick, amber glass bottle. What was inside was a mistery to the young Rebel.

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Corellian whisky, matured for ten years and bought - well, conquered - by myself fifteen years ago" Han claimed proudly. "It's a delicacy, something you'll never find in the galaxy, and believe me when I say that I wouldn't let anyone touch it. Only a friend".

Luke suddenly paled, becoming as white as the Hoth wastelands, and gulped. "I'm honoured, Han, really" he murmured. "But I... well... I'm not old enough to drink".

The smuggler didn't even flinch. "C'mon, kid, you can tell everything to me. How old are you?".

The boy's complexion went from a greenish white to a furious red. "Well... nineteen" he admitted. "Almost nineteen and a half".

Han stayed absolutely serious for barely a second, then he bent over and burst into laughter - no one had ever heard him laugh like that. It took him a few minutes to recover, still before his friend's confused gaze, but at the end he managed to put himself together and stand straight.

"Are you serious?" he asked as he wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye. "I said I took that whisky fifteen years ago, and fifteen years ago I was fourteen".

Luke didn't stop looking at him pleadingly.

"Han, please" he tried. "I've never drunk anything so strong. Actually I haven't ever drunk at all... except that time...". A picture of his sixteen-year-old self who had payed the consequences appeared in his mind's eye, and he decided to shut up.

But Han didn't have the slightest intention of giving up: his great friendhip ceremony wasn't going to be ruined by such an excuse. Instead, he wrapped one arm around the kid's shoulders and ruffled his hair as he led him to a proper chair.

"There's always a first time" he said from the depth of his wisdom. "You can't refuse! And I perfectly know when to stop a newbie. Trust me".

Although his friend's words didn't persuade him at all, Luke surrendered. After all a few sips couldn't hurt, right?

"Only a small taste" he warned.

Han smiled happily and took two shot glasses from a cupboard, slamming them on the table.

"Only a small taste" he confirmed as he filled them completely.

From Luke's point of view that wasn't a small taste, but something that could quench the whole base's thirst for at least a week. However, he didn't complain: Han knew what he was doing, right?

The older pilot raised his glass for a toast. "To our friendship!" he exclaimed as he lightly touched Luke's glass with his own. Then, with surprising speed, he swallowed all of his whisky in a single sip.

Luke brought the edge of the glass to his lips, encourage by Han's ease, and tried the liquor.

He immediately started coughing violently as if he was being suffocated and with trembling hands he placed the glass very far from himself: how could one drink that stuff?! It wasn't good at all and it burned everything it met, from the throat to the stomach, as a horde of Imperial incendiaries.

"Kriff, kid, you're a lost cause indeed" Han said as he noticed that his friend looked like he wanted to expectorate his very soul. "Another sip! You must at least finish the glass. Don't you feel the liver that wakes up? It isn't venom, it's good stuff!".

"I-I think it is, i-instead" Luke said between a fit of cough and the next one. At the same time Han had poured more liquid in his own glass and had drunk it, showing his delight with a pleased whine.

The boy couldn't do anything but listen to the smuggler, so he tried to finish the liquor without dying first.
This time it went better and he managed to drink half a glass (although the whisky was disgusting), then he once again ended up like before.

Han patted him on the back in order to calm him down, then, once again, he filled the two glasses with a cheerful exclamation Luke didn't completely get.

And it went on like this for quite a bit, until Han was completely drunk and Luke practically about to die. They had guzzled, respectively, fifteen and eight shot glasses, and the enormous bottle was now half empty.

When Leia entered the Falcon's main space the following morning, she met Luke in the kitchen and cringed. The poor boy looked awful: his face was scarlet, his eyes watering; he couldn't even stand up when he saw the Princess because of a sudden attack of vertigo. The general impression of a very off place person was only increased by the gigantic shirt he was wearing.

"Who set up this disaster?" Leia asked patiently, even if she perfectly knew the answer, as she helped Luke sit more comfortably (having your head on a table all night had to be at least fastidious.

The boy didn't answer and simply pointed the door Leia knew led to the refresher.

"And the shaman of the tribe!!!" a voice sang, a voice that was clearly deformed by alcohol, from behind it.

Leia covered her face with her hand.
"Han?" she called.

"Doesn't love us, so we cry!".

"Han Solo, come out of that room".

"For his love I'm looking, still,
Even down the windowsill!".

The Princess shook her head and surrendered, hoping Chewie would sooner or later throw something on the smuggler's head to make him shut up.

She walked back in the kitchen and pulled Luke up with less effort than she thought, holding him still until he managed to stabilize himself thanks to the wall.

"Let's go to the dorm" the girl said. "Please, do not stay with this man again if not in my presence".

Luke's head dangled forward in some sort of affirmative nod as Han, from the refresher, called out one last time to the shaman of the tribe.