Chapter Text
“Wherever [he] was, there was Eden.”
-- Mark Twain, The Private Lives of Adam and Eve
Honey flowed differently. It took its time, bent the light as it passed through it. It was admittedly maudlin but sometimes Luke wished he had the patience to take his time, to linger in a moment.
Now he knew what honey felt like.
They stayed like that, slumped and breathless, for a long moment in the kitchen. Bodies and bodies and bodies. Luke had slid from his perch on the table and crawled along the floor until he came into contact with Din’s warm flank and he nosed blindly until Din let him into the circle of his arms with a murmur. Boba was not far behind them but had paused – as the most sensible among them – to grab a washcloth and a glass of water, which Luke had slurped from gratefully as he reclaimed the ability to move his tongue.
He felt unmoored in time. The sun had set but he had no reckoning of it, no understanding of when. All he knew was the now and the need and the warmth of the summer air on his skin. Once Boba returned, he sank to his knees and slowly sprawled along the floor until he came to encompass Luke’s back. And he started to touch and a half-breath later, Din’s hands were tracing the lines of his body in tandem. In the background, he heard the crickets chirping in the field behind the little cottage and the hum of bees and the heatwave.
It was unfamiliar to him – to love and be loved like this. Every touch felt like a revelation. Boba’s broad hands spanned his ribs and traced along each notched vertebrae and mole while Din rubbed fluttering circles on his thighs and stomach, playing with golden hairs that had been clumped together by all manner of fluids and Luke felt his eyes drift shut despite himself.
Now, in this quiet moment, he didn’t know who to touch first or where. He wanted to demonstrate how much this meant to him but he felt like his words were inadequate. Too much love in his body and too much to let spill out his mouth. If he were to open his veins, was that what he would find?
He pressed closer anyway and he hoped that his sigh was eloquent enough.
And maybe it was.
Din had closed his own eyes at some point and he spoke without reopening them. “Luke.”
“What?” Luke smiled against his breastbone so he could feel it without even looking. A hand settled in his hair, stroking.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say it again.”
Fall
“You sound happy.” Leia’s voice was tinny over the phone and outside, the rain pattered against the panes of the window.
There was a toddler pressed against his chest, snoring quietly into his armpit and drooling carrot-y drool against his shirt. There were two dogs poised to trip him the instant he stood. There was still canning to be done, and hives to close up against the mounting cold, and he had promised to help Boba with the forge and the quencher and the pumpkin patch. On the floor in the next room, Din sprawled silently. Probably asleep, given the depth of his breathing.
They were all like honey.
“I am,” Luke said, pressing his hand against the wood of the kitchen chair that Ben had carved in his youth. “God, I am.”