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“It really is old.” Han dropped his chin to his chest while examining the state of the grimy floors, noting a particular fissure near the hallway that kept his free hand hovering near his blaster. Albeit holstered, he still had a record draw. Light fluctuated from a lit torch, the fire casting warm brilliance that flickered over the wall, chasing away obscure shadows to unveil memories long lost in time.
“But I think I could fix it up. Chewie could do the runs, restock me whenever I need more supplies.” Han bobbed his head, acceded to his own methods on the next plan of action before slanting a look toward the front door, expecting Luke to have said something by now. In shrouded twilight, his bondmate stood propped against the enormous doorway, arms crossed, a pensive look tugging his lips thin. Han stepped forward, watched how clear pools of blue reflected glimmers from his torch, spiny glares that pricked at his eyes. Han exhaled in the midst of scrubbing the back of his hand over his face, attempting to quell the volts that volleyed every which way. He squinted and bore the brunt of bright neurological synapses diffusing his line of vision.
“What’s wrong?“
Through clenched teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut again, suspended for a brief moment by the incandescent light that had snatched what few perceptions he had left at night. Folded into an embrace, he leaned against Luke until the episode passed.
“You really shouldn’t be out here, Han.” The hold tightened. “You know what the medical droids said. When you–”
”Yeah, yeah, when I go out at night—which I should avoid doing now altogether—bring enough sources of light to surround me or else I’ll trigger the carbon sickness.“ Han could tell Luke winced when he finished for him, no doubt because of the sing-song tone used. “I’m fine. I just looked at the light too long ‘n it just kinda took me by surprise. That’s all.” Leaning into his embrace, Han accepted the fingers that threaded through his hair.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I know you want to help, but there are plenty of other things to do than hard labor. It’ll be a long time before this temple will be refurbished. It’s been sitting in the forest for Gods knows how long. The shipment carrying crew and supplies to get construction started won’t even reporting in ‘til another two weeks.” Luke gestured to the murky overcast, somber tales latent all over. “And I won’t be back for at least a month; Osarian’s negotiations are proving more difficult than expected.”
“You make it sound like I’ll be alone.” Finally, Han raised his head, eyebrows quirked, and he looked far better than he had minutes ago. “'Cause I won’t be. Sure, Chewie’s gonna have the ‘Falcon to make the small runs, but he’ll come back, and if I’ll be waitin’ around, anyway. Y'know I’m just gonna send him off to Malla.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?“ In spite of Han’s simper, Luke felt a soothing heat burgeoning in his chest. Seeing Han so adamant in aiding in the reconstruction of a desecrated Jedi temple left his heart swollen and chest crowded. “I just want you to be safe while I’m gone. Sleeping out here alone doesn’t seem like it’ll even cut close to ‘safe’.”
Their bond made up for the lapse of time spent staring at each other, absurdly yanking the corners of their mouths until each of them leveled frivolous grins, an act that was considered utterly mawkish in nature, yet, Han’s stomach flipped knowing it was Luke staring straight back at him. A tiny tug on the sleeve of his tunic was all that he needed. Luke stood a little taller and kissed him.
“I’ll still be here, y'know, whether I've got a ship or not,” Han expressed. “'Cause I’ll always be waiting for you.”
"And I’ll always come back to you.“ Luke bit his lip as he strained to see past the already dying flame, molten pieces of debris scattering to ashes near his arm, its descent without control. "I love you.”
"I know.“ That lopsided grin was back, plastering on without prelude, "I love you, too.”