The Yellow Jacket
Characters: Luke/Mara
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Moving can make you find some new things, and not all of them can be hung up or placed on a shelf.
There was no easy way to combine two lifetimes' worth of accumulated shavit into one relatively small suite of rooms. Staring at the maze of boxes, crates, and assorted luggage bags, Mara sighed, and raised an eyebrow at Luke, who was dreamily poking through a bag of trinkets on the lounger.
"Wake up, Farmboy," she said, snapping him out of his daze. "I want to find our bed so we can sleep in it tonight."
"You mean the jungle isn't working out for you?" Luke asked, but there was a little grin on his face. It was uncharacteristically sly for the Jedi Master--well, uncharacteristic around anyone but her and his immediate family. The jungle afforded them something that was sometimes lacking here at the main Academy facility: privacy. But after a few days of camping out and, well, enjoying the sights, Mara was ready for a real mattress, in a structure that wasn't made of cloth.
"I mean I want to share a bed with my husband before we both get yanked in separate directions," she replied. "You get those shelving units set up like I asked you to while I was gone?"
"Yes, they're just waiting to be moved where you want them," Luke replied, and gestured to where said units were neatly put together. "Are you sure we got enough?"
"It'll have to do. Besides, a lot of this I'm sure we can let go." Furrowing her brow, Mara used the Force to move the units around the living area where she wanted them, positioned just so against the walls and around the seating area.
All that was currently seated on the chairs and couch were more boxes, and Mara scowled. Where had all this stuff come from, anyway? She was sure she hadn't adopted any pack-rat tendencies, that she was too practical... but, as she began unboxing things and sorting through them, she realized that each piece had some sentimental value attached to it. This was something she'd acquired working as a waitress, all those years ago; that was a shouldersculp she'd once used on a mission as the Hand...
There were some with memories attached that she didn't want to bring with her into her new life with Luke. Some that reminded her of the trip with Lando, and of how closed-off she'd been while Luke was running around the galaxy with his perfect little Old Republic Jedi, and just thinking of how Callista would choke on her own spit if she knew Mara was married to Luke now...
The pile of 'sell or get rid of' pieces grew steadily, until Mara sat back from her assorted boxes of kitsch with a satisfied grin. A few pieces, quickly arranged on the shelves, and the rest put back into the boxes and taken out to the Sabre.
When she got back, she went to check on Luke's progress. He'd been hanging up clothes in their newly expanded closet, going through them in the process. They worked on this task together, talking as they did so. Little things about each other, mostly, snippets of thoughts, things that they could share openly between the two of them and not keep hidden away for want of making sure their relationship remained strictly professional. Luke teased her for having so many dresses (though he mentioned he wouldn't mind seeing her in all of them), and she made a particular note that they needed to get him into more colors than black.
She was in the middle of another jab about the monochromatic nature of his clothing when she came across the most hideous jacket she'd ever laid eyes on. "What is this?" Mara asked, pulling it out of the luggage crate it was in and holding it up as though she was holding up a large, dead insectoid. It was synthleather and bright yellow, and ugly as the backside of a Hutt. "Stang, I don't think I've seen anything quite this nauseating since Jabba's palace."
"Hey," Luke cut in, a funny look on his face. "It's not that bad."
"It's bad, Skywalker," she shot back. "And it's old. As much as I want you to have color and variety, this is not what I had in mind." She made to put it in the pile of clothes to get rid of, and Luke made a strangled noise, performing an acrobatic maneuver over a pile of crates to snatch it away.
"We're keeping it," he said. Mara raised a brow.
"Don't tell me you're attached."
"Do you know about this jacket?"
"Obviously I don't, or I'd have not said anything before I put it in the throw-away pile!"
Luke ran a hand over the still-supple material, a fond look on his face. "This is the jacket I wore to the award ceremony held after the Battle of Yavin. The medal's in one of those boxes out there... but what I remember most is when I bought this jacket."
Mara's look of amused concern turned into one of interest, and she pushed aside a pile of pants that hadn't been worn in two years and sat on the bed. "I didn't think they had clothing stores in Rebel bases."
"I got it off one of the freighters that came in for the ceremony," Luke explained, sitting on top of the pants beside her. "They had it in with some other bits of sundry, and the credits were the first I'd made by myself without having to dig sand out of vaporators first. So I got it, and wore it. I thought it looked dashing, myself."
Mara laughed. "You have horrible fashion sense. Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Considering that most of my clothes are black... but you can't speak. You wear those flight suits all the time."
"And I don't hear you complaining..."
"I don't, as long as others keep their eyes and hands off my wife." Luke's hands, though, were very much allowed, and one snaked around her torso now. "Anyway... I really want to keep it. I know you think it's hideous, but..." His hand tightened on the jacket. "It means something to me. Besides, if we have a son--"
"He'll be dressed better than you, and will have the strength of will necessary to wrest that jacket from your hands and throw it out an airlock," Mara finished, but her expression had gone soft, and she leaned her forehead against Luke's cheek. "It's fine, Luke. Besides, you need more color in your wardrobe."
Mara couldn't miss the sudden sparkle in her husband's eyes as he kissed her lightly and got up to hang the jacket lovingly in the back of the closet. "Sorry. It's probably not very Jedi-like to be sentimental."
"But it is very much like my husband." Mara got up and wrapped her arms around him from behind, smiling into his back. "And that is who I married."
The unpacking wasn't done for another week, but from that moment on, the whole apartment felt like home.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Moving can make you find some new things, and not all of them can be hung up or placed on a shelf.
There was no easy way to combine two lifetimes' worth of accumulated shavit into one relatively small suite of rooms. Staring at the maze of boxes, crates, and assorted luggage bags, Mara sighed, and raised an eyebrow at Luke, who was dreamily poking through a bag of trinkets on the lounger.
"Wake up, Farmboy," she said, snapping him out of his daze. "I want to find our bed so we can sleep in it tonight."
"You mean the jungle isn't working out for you?" Luke asked, but there was a little grin on his face. It was uncharacteristically sly for the Jedi Master--well, uncharacteristic around anyone but her and his immediate family. The jungle afforded them something that was sometimes lacking here at the main Academy facility: privacy. But after a few days of camping out and, well, enjoying the sights, Mara was ready for a real mattress, in a structure that wasn't made of cloth.
"I mean I want to share a bed with my husband before we both get yanked in separate directions," she replied. "You get those shelving units set up like I asked you to while I was gone?"
"Yes, they're just waiting to be moved where you want them," Luke replied, and gestured to where said units were neatly put together. "Are you sure we got enough?"
"It'll have to do. Besides, a lot of this I'm sure we can let go." Furrowing her brow, Mara used the Force to move the units around the living area where she wanted them, positioned just so against the walls and around the seating area.
All that was currently seated on the chairs and couch were more boxes, and Mara scowled. Where had all this stuff come from, anyway? She was sure she hadn't adopted any pack-rat tendencies, that she was too practical... but, as she began unboxing things and sorting through them, she realized that each piece had some sentimental value attached to it. This was something she'd acquired working as a waitress, all those years ago; that was a shouldersculp she'd once used on a mission as the Hand...
There were some with memories attached that she didn't want to bring with her into her new life with Luke. Some that reminded her of the trip with Lando, and of how closed-off she'd been while Luke was running around the galaxy with his perfect little Old Republic Jedi, and just thinking of how Callista would choke on her own spit if she knew Mara was married to Luke now...
The pile of 'sell or get rid of' pieces grew steadily, until Mara sat back from her assorted boxes of kitsch with a satisfied grin. A few pieces, quickly arranged on the shelves, and the rest put back into the boxes and taken out to the Sabre.
When she got back, she went to check on Luke's progress. He'd been hanging up clothes in their newly expanded closet, going through them in the process. They worked on this task together, talking as they did so. Little things about each other, mostly, snippets of thoughts, things that they could share openly between the two of them and not keep hidden away for want of making sure their relationship remained strictly professional. Luke teased her for having so many dresses (though he mentioned he wouldn't mind seeing her in all of them), and she made a particular note that they needed to get him into more colors than black.
She was in the middle of another jab about the monochromatic nature of his clothing when she came across the most hideous jacket she'd ever laid eyes on. "What is this?" Mara asked, pulling it out of the luggage crate it was in and holding it up as though she was holding up a large, dead insectoid. It was synthleather and bright yellow, and ugly as the backside of a Hutt. "Stang, I don't think I've seen anything quite this nauseating since Jabba's palace."
"Hey," Luke cut in, a funny look on his face. "It's not that bad."
"It's bad, Skywalker," she shot back. "And it's old. As much as I want you to have color and variety, this is not what I had in mind." She made to put it in the pile of clothes to get rid of, and Luke made a strangled noise, performing an acrobatic maneuver over a pile of crates to snatch it away.
"We're keeping it," he said. Mara raised a brow.
"Don't tell me you're attached."
"Do you know about this jacket?"
"Obviously I don't, or I'd have not said anything before I put it in the throw-away pile!"
Luke ran a hand over the still-supple material, a fond look on his face. "This is the jacket I wore to the award ceremony held after the Battle of Yavin. The medal's in one of those boxes out there... but what I remember most is when I bought this jacket."
Mara's look of amused concern turned into one of interest, and she pushed aside a pile of pants that hadn't been worn in two years and sat on the bed. "I didn't think they had clothing stores in Rebel bases."
"I got it off one of the freighters that came in for the ceremony," Luke explained, sitting on top of the pants beside her. "They had it in with some other bits of sundry, and the credits were the first I'd made by myself without having to dig sand out of vaporators first. So I got it, and wore it. I thought it looked dashing, myself."
Mara laughed. "You have horrible fashion sense. Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Considering that most of my clothes are black... but you can't speak. You wear those flight suits all the time."
"And I don't hear you complaining..."
"I don't, as long as others keep their eyes and hands off my wife." Luke's hands, though, were very much allowed, and one snaked around her torso now. "Anyway... I really want to keep it. I know you think it's hideous, but..." His hand tightened on the jacket. "It means something to me. Besides, if we have a son--"
"He'll be dressed better than you, and will have the strength of will necessary to wrest that jacket from your hands and throw it out an airlock," Mara finished, but her expression had gone soft, and she leaned her forehead against Luke's cheek. "It's fine, Luke. Besides, you need more color in your wardrobe."
Mara couldn't miss the sudden sparkle in her husband's eyes as he kissed her lightly and got up to hang the jacket lovingly in the back of the closet. "Sorry. It's probably not very Jedi-like to be sentimental."
"But it is very much like my husband." Mara got up and wrapped her arms around him from behind, smiling into his back. "And that is who I married."
The unpacking wasn't done for another week, but from that moment on, the whole apartment felt like home.