Ambiance: Moxy Fruvous. "Fighters for liberty, fighters for
power, fighters for longer turns in the shower."
Archive: Anywhere. Email forwarding is OK.
Archive Date: September 21, 2000
Author's Webpage: http://come.to/prillalar
Category: POV, Angst
Disclaimer: SW belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
Feedback: Yes, any and all comments welcome.
Pairing: Luke/Wedge
Rating: R for M/M sexual situations
Series: Antilles Diaries
Spoilers: ESB
Summary: A sleepless night.
I felt the shield doors close, rumbling my chest with their low clang. I was tired and I was off shift and I'd won a week's worth of hot water chits in last night's game. So I headed back to quarters and I was halfway there before I noticed something was up.
Like I said, I was tired.
Something was up, but people weren't exactly going out of their way to tell me. Specifically, they were going out of their way to avoid me. I caught Roby before he could give me an uncomfortable smile and the slip.
"What's going on?" My fingers curled into the hood of his parka. "I know I don't smell like a spring flower, but neither do you."
His eyes flicked left. "You don't..."
"Don't what?" Our breath came out in clouds. The cold stung my cheeks. My grip on him tightened.
"You don't know," he said and took my arm. Then he told me.
When we got back from that last botched recon, Luke Skywalker moved in with me. He didn't ask, didn't say anything, just walked in and threw his duffel on the top bunk.I was alone, as usual. Three bunkmates in a row had all been killed in action and now I had a reputation for being unlucky. Maybe we'd balance each other out. "You know what happened to the last three guys to sleep in that bed?"
"I'll be careful," he said and almost smiled.
That night, after the last hand of Sabacc and the last battle rehash and the last dirty joke, we went back together and turned out the light and he climbed into my bunk with me.
I held my breath and clenched my fists until I felt dizzy. Then I started to touch him, not gently, really, but cautiously. Under my hands, I felt his muscles tense and then relax. He began to respond. We moved together in the dark. On the other side of the thin wall, two men yelled at each other over a gambling debt. I lay awake long after Luke was asleep. The bed was narrow and I was used to sleeping alone.
I let go of Roby, but he grabbed me, pinning me with both hands. "You can't go. You know the doors are closed."
My stomach churned. My heart hammered so I couldn't hear. The doors were closed but I could tunnel out. "I have to--"
"You can't." Roby loosened his grip but didn't let go. "Solo will find him." He didn't look convinced.
Acid burned my throat and it took all my concentration not to puke all over Roby.
"C'mon," he said. "I have a bottle in my room."
"No." Ice was sticking my lashes together.
"Come on, Wedge, you shouldn't be alone."
"No!" I broke away from him, holding my palms out so I couldn't punch him. I walked back to my -- our -- room and stared at everyone I passed, daring them to speak to me. No one did.
In the tiny room, I hoisted myself up to the unused top bunk and leaned over to pull a blanket after me. We'd only been on Hoth for a couple of weeks and I wasn't used to the cold. Half-embedded in the ice of the wall was a playing card, thrown there by Luke during his Force practice. He nearly took my ear off. I stared at the ceiling and pretended it was darker.
Solo will find him.
A few days after Luke moved in, things returned to normal. Almost. It was like our lives were divided into two separate parts. During the day, we were back to being pals. Buds. Joking, working, playing together. In the night, we lay together without a word, using each other like strangers. And I still stared at him when I thought he wasn't looking, still waited for his smiles. As much as I had, it wasn't enough.When Luke slept, he curled himself up into a ball and let me wrap myself around him. Sometimes, when his breathing slowed and his body went lax, I'd press my face into his neck, kissing the soft hair and smelling his skin. Then I'd get up and go to the head, to shower and beat off if I could get it up again. To punch the wall and curse myself. Suck it up, Antilles. Be a man.
Then one night, he turned in my arms and kissed me. He stroked my back and I ran my fingers through his hair. It must have been ten minutes before he pulled back. "Thank you, Wedge," he whispered and rolled over to go to sleep. In the morning he looked at me and smiled.
I was happy.
It wasn't everything, but it was a start. The boundaries were broken. We were more like lovers now, more like the last few relationships I'd had. A couple of my friends guessed and teased me a little. Nobody teased Luke, though. I'm not sure why.
Solo will find him.
So I kept telling myself. Ticking off the seconds, the minutes. The cold was slowing everything down -- my thoughts, my heartbeat, the passage of time. Like a vid in slow motion. Freeze-frame of Antilles staring at the ceiling. Instant replay of Antilles pulling off his glove and scraping at the wall, ice collecting under his fingernails. Fast-forward seemed to be non-functional.
No way to find out the ending.
I was happy, but I knew he wasn't mine, not yet. When we sat thigh to thigh in the mess hall, I watched his eyes move around the room, following the princess. Or the smuggler.I don't know if he thought about them when he was in bed with me. But I did, sometimes. Thought about my golden boy on his knees to the smuggler, about him pounding into the princess. It made me jealous and it made me hot.
But I never heard him speak a name except for mine. And we'd probably all be dead soon enough, so what did it matter?
I had to find a way to speed things up, had to move before I went into torpor. I pulled myself up and hit my head on the ceiling. I didn't care. Dropping to the floor, I started doing push-ups, ten, twenty, thirty, lots. Under the bunk, I saw the sock Luke thought he'd lost in the laundry.
Growing up, I went to good schools. I learned a lot of useless things. Now my comparative religions class was coming back to me and with every breath out I invoked another god. One of them must be listening.
Then we came here, to Hoth. We worked hard, different teams, different shifts. But we took what hours we could together and I think the cold brought us even closer than before. I heard that the smuggler might be leaving. I started to relax. Things were working. I wasn't so unlucky after all.I found some ink and stained pictures into the ice beside the bed, scratching the lines in deep. Fish and trees and animals -- things I missed. A caricature of Luke. He tried to do one of me. It was very bad.
I dreamed that I was home and Luke was with me, meeting my parents, walking in the garden. I was awake for half an hour before I remembered it was gone.
Solo will find him. But, dammit, why not me? It's not that I wanted to be the hero...except to Luke, I guess. I just didn't want it to be him -- Solo. Why not me?
I was still doing push-ups and vaguely feeling like I should stop, but it took a lot to remember how. I lay on the floor and the cold seeped into me, clammy sweat chilling me until I started to shiver. Not good.
So I got up and went to the showers after all, staggering a little in the corridor. I pushed in every chit I had and let the water stream over me, hot and hotter. Thawing me. I imagined every flake of snow on this iceball melting away and swirling down the drain. Hold on, Luke.
When the water stopped, I stood there naked for a minute and punched the wall. For old times' sake, I thought, and it made me grin. I got dressed and went back to quarters. Put on my flight suit, ready for the search.
The night was half gone. I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat on the lower bunk to wait. Gods or no gods, he'd be okay. He was the Hotshot, Lucky Luke. In the morning, I'd go out and find him and bring him back.
Then everything would be all right.