#insert luke saying why am i such a destroyer

[burstingsunrise]

the new fic DESTROYED me its so good wtf thank you for your beautiful brain and your beautiful work

sorry about the destroying 😭 but also thank you for reading...this one means a lot to me for a lot of different reasons and i'm really happy it resonated with you <3

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Survivors of Unfair Choices (12) | FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1742

Warning: SW-verse typical violence, minor swearing

A/N: I’ve finally caught up in writing this series. Thank you for your patience. I had other things to say for this section but this whole queuing thing has been giving me a hard time and I accidentally deleted this the first time.

Series Masterlist

-

You led them through the makeshift command center hidden deep among the vines and roots of the greenery, walking in first. Leia stood at the center, her face illuminated by the holoprojector table as she’s surrounded by other Resistance officers. She looks up and smiles at you.

“General Organa, I’m sorry to interrupt,” you said, stepping towards the table before gesturing to your companions, “This is Finn and Poe. They need to talk to you-”

“Oh, I’ve met Poe, of course. And I need to talk to Finn,” Leia said, stepping forward and grabbing Finn’s hand. “That was incredibly brave, what you did. Renouncing the First Order, saving my commander's life-”

Finn was taken aback. “Thank you ma’am,” he said. You gently scooted him closer and encouraged him to continue, “but a friend of ours was taken prisoner-”

Leia nodded. “Han told me about the girl. I’m sorry.”

Finn looked over at Han, surprised that he would have even been concerned by it. Perhaps, he was used to the First Order’s mentality, where being compromised made you a lost cause and they’d sooner abandon you when you’ve lost your worth.

“General, we’re both familiar with the weapon that destroyed the Hosnian system,” Poe stepped in, patting Finn on the shoulder.

Leia hummed. “We’re desperate for anything that you can tell us,” Leia said, drawing the attention towards the two men.

You stepped to the side, standing between Leia and Han. The smuggler gave you a nudge and smirked.

“So the First Order’s poster boy with the curls, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

You jabbed his side with your elbow, feeling like you were in the academy again, talking while the teacher was giving a lecture. Luckily, Leia’s focus was on Finn and Poe. The defectors. The newly recruited members of the Resistance. Your new friend and your new… boyfriend? You caught Poe’s eyes from across the table, causing a small smile to form on both of your lips before he turned his attention back to Finn. Right, there was a war going on right now. At least you were now on the same side of the war. You didn’t know how you’d manage it if you were to face him in battle as enemies after everything that happened, being stranded on that planet with him. Would he still follow orders?

C-3PO inserted the data device from BB-9 into the base computer, projecting a holographic map. Leia walks around the map, studying it closely in case she missed anything, but she hadn’t. Her face fell, knowing that all that effort to retrieve it, the sacrifices made, resulted in an incomplete map.

C-3PO spoke up, only confirming what everyone could see, “General, I regret to inform you, but this map recovered from BB-9 is only partially complete. And even worse, it matches no charted system on record. We simply do not have enough information to locate Master Luke.”

Leia nodded somberly. “I can't believe I was so foolish to think that I could just find Luke and bring him home.”

Han frowned. “Leia…,” he started.

“Don’t do that,” Leia shot out, pointing at him.

“Do what?”

Leia started to head off. “Anything,” she said over her shoulder.

You sighed. Although you were glad to see them talking, you’d prefer it under better circumstances. “We’ll resume the meeting once we receive the reconnaissance report on the enemy base. Then, we’ll discuss how to proceed,” you told everyone.

They all nodded, understanding the situation that the General and Han are in. A few Resistance members that were part of the inner circle came over to welcome you back, knowing that you did your best in retrieving the map. No one knew if the map was retrievable, that it would be simple enough to show exactly where Luke Skywalker was, but there was hope. Although it was incomplete, it was something.

You walked over to your boys who had watched the entire interaction between the couple and you with the other members, your hands held behind your back.

“Are they going to be alright?” Finn asked, looking over to where Han and Leia left.

You nodded. “They just need to talk some things out,” you said, then smiled, “How did it feel to have the attention of the room?”

Finn let out a short laugh. “It was nerve wracking and… exhilarating.”

“First day with the Resistance and you’re already talking amongst the higher-ups,” Poe teased.

“And what about you?” Finn pointed out, “Flying with the Resistance, heading a squadron, and already on speaking terms with General Leia?”

Poe shrugged. “They needed a pilot and their commander was busy stealing the Millenium Falcon with a stormtrooper, a scavenger, and two droids.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not about to steal my squadron,” you told him.

“I don’t know, (Y/n/n), they seem to like me,” he smirked, “I guess I’m that charming, though, they did threaten to kill me if I hurt you.”

Finn scrunched his nose. “Please stop this, you two. Not sure what I want to be in the middle of, an arguing married couple or a flirty new couple.”

-

When Han and Leia finished with their talk, you cautiously approached the two, wondering if you were stepping out of bounds. They both turned to you, knowing you had something on your mind. Han pulled out a crate for you to sit across from him before taking a spot next to Leia.

“How are you doing, kid?” Han asked. “Although it’s not a complete map, you did bring back some valuable assets. You did good, kid.”

You forced yourself to smile, thinking about the village that the First Order attacked when they came to retrieve the map. “Can’t save everyone, only save who you can, even if it’s just one person, right?” you said.

Leia reached over and squeezed your hand. “Lor San Tekka is an old and loyal friend of ours. He knew what was at risk when he gave us the map,” she said, “We can’t let his sacrifice go out in vain. We just need to keep going and find something else.”

You nodded, then swallowed. “Um, when the First Order attacked the village… I saw Kylo Ren… Ben. He… do you think… have you ever tried to reach out to him again? Forgive me, I-”

“No, no, I understand where you’re coming from,” Leia assured you.

“It’s just that… I am sure that there is some light within him,” you said, “This doesn’t erase what he’s done, but maybe there’s a way to stop him from straying further down this dark path. I am in no way a jedi or anything. I’m just a regular human who flies X-Wings, but I think one of the reasons why he’s so… angry is the fact that he knows there’s light in him and he thinks it’s a weakness. If you don’t mind me asking, General, what exactly happened that caused this?”

The couple exchanged a tired and sad look. When Leia didn’t speak, Han stepped forward and said, “Sending him away to train with Luke might not have been enough for him to see the light.”

“Surely something must have happened for him to turn to the dark side?” you said.

Leia shook her head. “Luke went into exile after the temple was destroyed. We don’t know exactly what happened.”

“Maybe if we reach him and-”

“Why are you so insistent on this, kid?” Han frowned.

You looked up at him. “I escaped a Star Destroyer with the help of a stormtrooper and a commander of the First Order. I encountered Kylo Ren on that ship and he tried to search my mind for the map and I resisted as much as I could and I thought of you, General. You still have an effect on him. Maybe he’s lost and the only one that had reached him at his most vulnerable point was Snoke.”

Leia squeezed your hand again. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to reach him and it might take a lot of energy from me,” she said sadly.

“If we could find Luke, is it possible?”

“Maybe.”

-

Finn had taken his place at the map table, showing a holographic image of the Starkiller base he worked at while surrounded by the inner circle members of the Resistance. You crossed your arms, standing between Poe and Snap.

“The scan data from Snap’s reconnaissance flight confirms Finn’s report,” you said, looking at the wireframe hologram.

Snap nodded. “They've somehow created a hyper lightspeed weapon built within the planet itself,” he added.

“A laser cannon?” Major Brance inquired, crossing his arms.

Snap pursed his lips. “We’re not sure how to describe a weapon of this scale.”

Major Ematt’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s another Death Star,” he gasped.

Poe and Finn exchanged a grave look with Poe shaking his head. “I wish that were the case, Major,” he said.

He nodded over to you, prompting you to press the control. A wireframe of the Death Star appeared on the hologram table. Poe shifted, standing closer to you as he continued with his arms crossed.

“This is the Death Star,” he pointed.

You pressed another control. The image of the Death Star started to shrink and shrink and shrink as the image of the Starkiller Base grew. It made the Death Star seem like a mere moon orbiting a planet. The others began to gasp and whisper. You shook your head, seeing the entire image for the first time. Poe squeezed your hand firmly and it was then you realized how sweaty your palms became.

“This… is the Starkiller Base.”

Han frowned, placing his hands on his hips. It was a lot bigger than expected and it was no secret that hope was draining out of the meeting room the longer they looked at the Starkiller Base. He cleared his throat and shrugged nonchalantly.

“So it’s big,” he said.

Admiral Ackbar stepped forward. “How is it possible to power a weapon of this size?”

“It uses the power of the sun,” Finn answered, “As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears.”

An officer rushes over to Leia with a datacard. Leia grabbed it quickly, her eyes scanning through it. The room was quiet as they waited for the news. “The First Order,” she began, “they're charging the weapon again, now… Our system is the next target.”

-

Taglist: @megzdoodle @psychoticobsession @thescarletknight2014 @marrypuffsstuff @theoralpha @daniellajocelyn @badwolf-212 @gleigh42 @ella-solei @roserrys @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @juliaguliaa

[highsviolets]

of caf & conversations

pairing: non-toxic masculinity, wedge/luke if you squint

summary: “So, Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion: what on earth is keeping you up at night?”

word count: 3k 

rating: G

A/N: lolol I said I would post the update for “steady” this week and then @blonde-avenger and I were talking and, well, this happened. I can never refuse Luke Skywalker shenanagins. Canon + Legends compliant.

OF CAF & CONVERSATIONS, a fic by corellians-only [read on AO3 | external references are linked]

Wedge felt a sharp dig in his ribs as he lifted his cup of caf to his lips. The slim pilot scowled as the precious liquid danced over the top of the metal cup and collided with his flight suit. A stain started blooming on the weighty fabric of his khaki-colored trousers, creating an intricate patchwork of splotches.

“Seriously, Tycho?” he asked, staring in askance at the blonde-haired human male sitting to his right. “What is so important that you couldn’t wait until I finished my caf?”

While the Rebellion was a self-defined group of informal group of fighters, politicians, and the galaxy’s strays that gave little thought to rank, Rogue Squadron was infamous for its blatant disregard for rules and regulations.

Be that as it may, a few unofficial ordinances that governed the squad of ace pilots to preserve what remains of my sanity, Luke had commented dryly a few months earlier, after a particularly colorful incident that featured commandeered Corellian whiskey, a broken ‘fresher unit, and Wes Janson’s bedsheets.

Rule number one: Never, ever, come between Wedge Antilles and his cup of caf.

Everyone knew that. General Jan Dodonna. High Command Leader Mon Mothma. Even roguish Han Solo respected the man’s right to enjoy his caf in peace. Captain Wedge Antilles’ devotion to the caffeinated drink was nearly as legendary as Rogue Squadron itself.

Tycho ignored Wedge’s griping, merely arching an eyebrow. He pointed to the opposite side of the rudimentary mess hall. In the dim light of the glow rods, Wedge could make out Luke Skywalker making his way towards them with a cup of caf in each hand.

“That’s Luke,” Wedge stated baldly, still peeved at the interruption.

Tycho sighed, a gentle sound that belied the fact that his patience was wearing thin. “I know, Wedge. I live with the man. So do you. Or are you confused on that front as well?”

Wedge rolled his eyes in response to his wingmate’s sarcasm. “What’s your point, O Noble and Wise One?”

“The point, my stubborn Corellian friend, is—”

“Wait, was Luke scheduled for a patrol?” Wedge cut him off.

“There we go. Knew the converters would fire up eventually.” Tycho sat back and nodded approvingly, crossing his arms as he did so. The heavy-duty winter uniform did nothing to hide the grace of his movements, a remnant of his Alderaanian uprising that not even harsh training at the Imperial Academy — or the irrevocable loss of his culture — could push aside.

From his relaxed position, Tycho extended a gloved hand and snatched Wedge’s cup, taking a sip of caf. He shuddered.

“Wedge, this is disgusting.” He thrust the offending beverage back into Wedge’s open hands, his tone hurt and betrayed, as though Wedge not properly sweetening his caf was a personal affront to Tycho’s sensibilities.

“That is not caf.” Tycho pointed at swirling black liquid. “That’s what Zraii uses to clean our X-wings.” He regarded Wedge with concern. “Are you sure Wes didn’t swap your cups again?”

“I don’t hear you complaining about how I take my caf when it makes me awake enough to cover your six.” Wedge shot back. “Besides, I’m not the one who worries about his hair in the middle of firefight.”

“If you’re done squabbling like an old married couple, you’re right, Wedge.” Derek “Hobbie” Klivian, another human male pilot from Ralltir, joined them, plopping down on the other side of Wedge.  

“I served a double patrol with Luke yesterday. Neither of us were scheduled for patrol today,” Hobbie added, discarding his outer layer.

Tycho winced in sympathy. Fourteen consecutive standard hours patrolling the Force-forsaken, freezing pile of bantha dung that was Hoth was dangerous, and not for the usual reasons. Hypothermia and avalanches were the most fearsome enemies on this planet — a far cry from the proton torpedoes and firefights that usually incited fear even in the most hardened of pilots.

Hobbie glanced up at Luke, who was rapidly closing in on the trio. “As far as I know, he was in meetings with High Command all day.”

“I don’t know,” mused Wedge. “I might prefer patrol to listening to politicians all day.” He frowned, considering the situation. “Then why is Luke wearing full gear? Is he crazy?”

Tycho shook his head, amused. “Stang if I know. But I’m glad you’ve finally caught on, boss.” He clapped Wedge on the shoulder in mock approval, a grin playing about his lips.

“Wait, am I the last one to notice this?” Wedge’s eyes darted from side to side, a look of incredulity spreading across his features. He was the squadron’s executive officer. Taking care of his pilots was not only his job, it was a source of pride — and if Luke was technically his commanding officer, well, that was a matter of semantics. And Rebels didn’t care much for those.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the last,” Hobbie inserted pragmatically. “I don’t think Wes knows.”

Wedge fixed him with a hard stare, not appreciating the comparison with the accident-prone pilot. “That’s not saying much, Hobbie.”

He shrugged apathetically. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Tycho motioned with his hands in a be quiet motion as Luke approached. “Good evening, Commander,” he greeted Luke pleasantly, his tone abandoning its previous mischievousness.

“Hello, Tycho,” Luke responded in kind, his blue eyes clear despite the sheen of weariness that stretched over his features. “Wedge. Hobbie. Good to see you.”

“Is there something out there, sir?” Wedge gestured with his free hand, the one that wasn’t clutching the cup of caf, to Luke’s quilted white coat.

The collar was turned up to provide maximum protection against the elements, and Luke had piled beige utility vest on top. A scarf fluttered from its haphazard perch around his neck, obscuring the rank cylinders that Wedge knew lay on the left breast pocket.

Luke’s face and sandy head of hair were the only bodily surfaces not completely swaddled in fabric of some sort. The whole ensemble — combined with his boyish good looks and gentle demeanor — had the effect of reducing Commander Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star, to something akin to a young porg.

“Another suspected meteor?” Tycho probed.

Luke’s brows bunched together. “Uh, no?” He shook his head. “Situation’s normal — as though the nine hells of Corellia had frozen over.” He shot a playful glance at Wedge. “You would know something about that, wouldn’t you, Wedge?”

He bent over and placed the extra cup on the table as he spoke, but the movement lacked its usual swiftness owing to the bulk of his gear. Tycho leaned over and pulled out a chair, and Luke sat, nodding at him gratefully. The lightsaber attached to his hip bumped against his leg as he sat, catching the reflection of the glow rods stationed strategically around the room. The movement drew Wedge’s eye, and it occurred to him absently that the antique weapon seemed to gleam even in the dull illumination of the mess hall.

“Actually, I don’t think he would, sir. The nine hells kicked him out, so the powers that be made him our problem.” Hobbie eyed Wedge’s cup warily. “Have you tasted his caf? No sane human can drink caf that strong.”

“When will you three get it in your heads that not every Corellian is a scoundrel?” Wedge asked. He pointed to himself. “My parents ran fueling station. No spice. No smuggling. No bribes.”

“Weren’t you raised by a smuggler after your parents died?” Luke asked suspiciously.

“Well, that doesn’t mean that I was a smuggler,” Wedge deflected. “Besides, I was already a teenager when Gus Tetra Station went up in flames. Booster Terrik didn’t exactly have to tuck me into bed at night.”

Luke snorted in amusement. “With logic like that, I was never a moisture farmer, I was just raised by one.”

Wedge sobered slightly. Like him, Luke’s parents had died, leaving him to be brought up by his next of kin. But Wedge was lucky. He had known his parents still reflected on fond memories from his childhood. Luke had enjoyed no such luxuries.

Tycho butted in before Wedge could change the topic. “I agree with Luke.” He began counting off on his fingers, naming each instance in turn. “So, you never helped him with accounts? Installed illegal parts on his ship? Owned belongings that had been declared contraband by the Diktat? Never went with him to meet a client?”

Sensing defeat, Wedge inclined his head. “Well, that may have happened. And I may have used his contacts to secure my first deals before I went to the Academy. But those were legitimate. I, personally, am not a smuggler.” He raised his chin in an act of defiance.

“Well, well, whatever shall we do with such a disloyal son of Corellia?” Hobbie asked in mock seriousness, as though he were presiding over a trial.

“He’s still a Rebel,” Luke pointed out mildly, sipping his caf. “I think that counts for something.”

Wedge cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to bring the conversation back under control. This was getting out of hand, and Wes Janson wasn’t even here.

“If there’s no patrol, sir, why are you wearing full gear?”

Luke started at the change in topic and then blushed, a delicate tinge of red sweeping across his cheeks even in the coolness of the hollowed out ice cavern. “It’s always best to be prepared, Wedge.”

Wedge met Tycho’s eyes and had a feeling that the puzzlement he saw etched on Tycho’s face mirrored his own.

“Sir, we haven’t seen action in days.” This time it was Hobbie who spoke. “Unless you know something we don’t…” his voice trailed off, the question lingering even as it went unsaid. Is Rogue being deployed?

Luke shook his head. “No, you know as much as I do, boys.”

The mood shifted palpably at his announcement. His pilots, Luke had learned, did not actively seek out conflict, but being grounded for more than a few days at a time tended to make them restless. And impatient, reckless pilots get killed, Luke reflected. Maybe I can get them scheduled for some supply runs. He filed away the suggestion to take up with High Command later.

“Okay, so if you can’t answer that, then why do you have two cups of caf? Are you planning on taking on the entire Imp vanguard by yourself? You never drink more than cup a day.” Luke’s XO indicated the cup on the table and its partner, now clenched around Luke’s gloved hands.

“C’mon, Wedge. If I wanted to take on the vanguard, I’d at least let you vape a few of your own.” Luke turned his head and grinned lightly at Tycho. “Leave Tycho here to clean up the mess and deal with this group of loca kung.”

“Hey! Watch who you’re insulting in — well, whatever language that is,” Hobbie protested weakly and turned to Tycho, hoping he would back up the beleaguered pilot.

“Don’t look at me.” Tycho lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wasn’t the one who insulted you.”

Wedge cocked his head. “Was that…Huttese, Luke?”

Blue eyes averted brown, fixating on some amorphous clump of snow directly above their table. “Maybe.”

Something about the gesture unnerved Wedge, and he began to examine Luke more closely.

Sure enough, Luke’s leg was bouncing, and his shoulders were hunched together, as though he could keep the warmth closer to his body by closing in on himself. He couldn’t see Luke’s hands, but Wedge would bet his last round of sabaac winnings that Luke’s knuckles were white underneath his gloves, latching onto the warmth provided by the caf in a vice grip.

And with the precision of an ion cannon, it all clicked into place. Heavy jacket. Moisture farmer. Two cups of caf. Huttese.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah, Wedge?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh, last night, Wedge. You were there.” He sounded bemused.

“No,” Wedge corrected. “I saw you get into your bunk. I don’t know if you actually slept.”

“Well, I slept.”

“You sure?” Wedge pushed.

“Pretty sure, Captain.” Luke’s tone was firm, and Wedge winced at the use of his rank.

“Just making sure, Commander.” Wedge tossed back the rest of his caf. “Can’t have Rogue Leader operating on backwash fuel,” he added, as though the comment had been a casual afterthought.

Luke’s eyes widened, but he kept his tone even. “Is there something to suggest otherwise, Antilles?”

“Honestly, sir?” At Luke’s encouraging nod, Wedge shrugged. “A few things. The jacket. The caf.”

Luke’s blue eyes narrowed. “You knew I was’t sleeping because I wore a jacket and drank caf? And because you didn’t physically see me sleeping?”  

“Wedge knew you weren’t sleeping because he was stalking you, sir” Tycho put in, easing the tension that had settled over the group. “I, however, had a feeling that you weren’t sleeping because I haven’t seen you hug anyone in days.”

“Tycho?” asked Hobbie. “Shut up. That’s even creepier than Wedge’s assessment somehow. Luke doesn’t want to hear that.”

Hobbie turned to Luke. “I thought you weren’t sleeping because you didn’t make one joke about womp rats yesterday — not once, over the span of fourteen hours, with nothing to stare at but ice, did you mention those infernal creatures.”

Luke shook his head ruefully. “Am I really so obvious?” he questioned aloud.

His pilots looked at each other. “Yes,” they answered in unison.

Wedge met Luke’s gaze. “Look, Commander, we’re just concerned for you. As your friends, not as your pilots. We have every confidence in your ability to lead us, sir.”

Luke smiled wanly, and he looked older than his 22 years. “No cylinders, Captain,” he instructed softly, the fight having drained out of his voice.

Hobbie sighed dramatically and reached up to unpin his rank. “Oh, thank the Force. I hate having to dance around rank like we all haven’t seen each other —“

“Thanks for listening, Luke.” Tycho spoke over Hobbie’s sarcasm and placed a hand on Luke’s arm.

“I can’t very well ignore my best pilots, now, can I?” His blue eyes met Tycho’s own. “Especially when they’re my best friends.”

Tycho smiled.”That’s what we’re here for. He squeezed Luke’s arm before releasing his grip and leaning back into his chair once more. “So, Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion: what on earth is keeping you up at night?”

“Well, we know it’s not women troubles,” Hobbie quipped, frowning when two pairs of eyes fixed him with a steely glare.

“Not. Helping,” seethed Wedge between gritted teeth.

Hobbie ignored him. “Well? Is it?” he queried Luke.

The younger pilot shook his head. “No.”

“Okay. Gambling debts? R2 unit can’t be repaired? Missing family member? A strangling feeling of impending doom?”

Luke shook his head at each suggestion. “None of the above. Although, I think the feeling of impending doom is just you, Hobbie.”

“A pity,” Hobbie returned wryly. “It does wonders for one’s health.”

Luke took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Honestly, guys? It’s not that deep. I’’m just really cold.”

“You can’t sleep because you’re cold?” Wedge blurted, unable to contain his incredulity.

“I’m from a desert planet with two suns, Wedge.” Luke’s voice held a hint of his regular self with the teasing. “What did you think would happen when you put me on a snow planet?”

Wedge exhaled slowly. “Well, when you put it like that —“

“—which I do —“

“that kinda makes sense,” he admitted.

Luke smirked. “Good to know I’m not barvy as well as sleep-deprived and freezing.”

Tycho placed his hands above his head. “Well, I gotta say, that’s kind of a relief, Luke. I thought you had combat fatigue or something. This is problem is a piece of ryshcate compared to that.”

He looked at Wedge. “Did I say it right?” he asked, referring to the invocation of the famous Corellian dessert.

Wedge shook his head. “Well, technically yes, but your pronunciation is atrocious. I think Gamorreans could say it better than you.”

“Gentlemen.” Hobbie extended his hands palm-first. “If we could return to the task at hand, I propose a simple solution.”

“I’m all ears,” Luke said seriously.

“Luke can’t sleep because he’s cold. What’s the simplest way to conserve heat? Stick close together. So, the three of us take turns bunking with Luke to conserve body heat and make sure our dear old Commander finally catches some shut-eye.” Hobbie stated his conclusion apathetically, as though he hadn’t just suggested what sounded suspiciously like a squadron-wide sleepover.

“Hobbie.” Tycho stated slowly. “You hate being close to people.”

Hobbie shrugged. “So get Dak to take my place. Does it matter who it is as long as it’s one of us and it means Luke can sleep?”

Wedge searched Luke’s face for signs of misgiving, but found none. “Are you okay with this?”

Luke considered. “Would you care even if I wasn’t?”

“You know I would.” Wedge’s voice was low and serious.

“Yeah, I’m okay with it.” Luke smiled brightly and met Wedge’s brown eyes. Even without reaching out in the Force, Luke could feel that Wedge was radiating warmth and concern.

“Well, it’s a plan then,” Tycho confirmed, looking between Wedge and Luke. “Wedge, you’re up first.” His eyes twinkled. “Time to take our dear old Commander to bed.”

Luke reached across the table and lightly punched Tycho in shoulder. “Hey, watch who you’re calling old.” He yawned, screwing up his face and rubbing his eyes as he did so. With a concentrated effort, he heaved onto his feat.

“Mind if we turned in?” he asked Wedge. “I know it’s relatively early but—“ Luke blushed for the second time that evening — “I really haven’t sleep in weeks.”

Wedge nodded. “Of course, Luke. Whatever you want.” He stood, matching Luke’s stance, and the two walked away, speaking softly.

Hobbie looked at Tycho, who was watching them with a grin on his face. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“If I didn’t, you’d never know.”