soooo.... happy star wars day, everyone 😏 you know i had to do it.
of scoundrels and nice men
Charles doesn't have time for this. He doesn't have time for Pierre's stupid fucking banged-up ship to be – to be stupid and banged-up, and not working when he really really needs it to work. He needs to get to Cloud City, and he needs to get there now.
Instead, he's stuck in some dingy back corridor in the Tauri, soldering some godforsaken component back on to the wall because this goddamn ship just can't hold itself together for more than five minutes. Much like its owner, Charles thinks darkly, returning to his task with renewed force.
As though thinking of the devil summoned him, Charles hears the telltale thud of footsteps making their way down his dingy little corridor. Well, Pierre can walk wherever he likes. Charles isn't going to stop working on his behalf, because someone needs to make themselves useful around here.
He keeps working even when he feels Pierre come up behind him, chest pressed all the way up against Charles' as he leans around him to see what he's doing. He's insufferable, and Charles hates that his heartbeat quickens from his proximity, pulse suddenly thrumming loud in his ears.
"Do you need a hand?" Pierre asks, and Charles can hear the smirk in his voice as he adds, "princess?"
Charles' shoulders jerk in annoyance, involuntary, and he almost drops the tool he's working with. He catches it, but manages to hit his hand against the side of the ship in the process. "Stop calling me that," Charles snaps, hanging the tool over a protruding part of wall and discreetly tucking his one hand into the other to try and ease the throbbing.
Pierre steps away from him, and sure enough, he's smirking. "Sure, Charlito," he says, and that's a nickname that Charles likes, usually, but like this, it makes him want to grab Pierre by the shoulders and shake him. If his hand didn't feel like a living bruise, he might actually have done it.
And that's… Charles hates how easily Pierre gets under his skin. He's a Prince of Alderaan, and the youngest person ever to have a seat in the Imperial Senate – he should not be letting Pierre slip under his guard this easily. He shouldn't.
And yet, Pierre pushes past all of Charles' walls of carefully constructed diplomatic training like they aren't even there.
"You make it so hard sometimes," Charles says curtly instead of voicing any of that.
"I know, I know," Pierre replies, easy and lazy and cocky and everything Charles should hate more than anything. That doesn't stop his breath from catching when Pierre pushes into his space, again, blue eyes devastatingly earnest as he reaches for Charles' hand.
"Admit it," he says, and his eyes are so blue, his grip shockingly gentle when he untangles Charles' hands from each other, taking the hurt one between his own fingers.
"You don't think I'm that bad. Not really," Pierre continues, and then he starts rubbing gentle, soothing little circles against the back of Charles' throbbing hand, and that's…
Charles didn't think Pierre had even noticed. He thought Pierre would just keep being an annoyance and a menace, as usual, trying to get a rise out of Charles because he knows he's the only one who can get under Charles' skin like this.
He certainly didn't think Pierre would do something like this. Something which implies that he might… care. About someone that's not himself.
"Maybe," Charles allows, when the silence has stretched for just a moment too long, but Pierre's gentle grip of his hand still hasn't faltered. "When you're not acting like a scoundrel," he adds, because he will can't give Pierre a win that easily, after all.
"Scoundrel?" Pierre echoes, arching both eyebrows. Charles knows that he's taller – he is – but somehow, Pierre still manages to smirk down at him. "You know, I like the sound of that."
"Of course you do," Charles mutters, trying to turn away and pull out of his grasp.
But Pierre doesn't let him go. He tightens his hold on Charles' hand, using it to tug him closer, hard enough that Charles all but stumbles into Pierre's chest.
Pierre's other arm is at his waist immediately, catching him and stopping him from hitting the wall, but also keeping Charles' body flush against his.
"You like me because I'm a scoundrel," Pierre says, and he's leaning forward, dipping his face ever closer to Charles'. Charles knows that he should move, probably, or at least shake his head, but the best he can do is part his lips in belated indignation as Pierre just keeps leaning closer.
"I happen to like nice men," Charles says valiantly, and Pierre's lips curve up like he was waiting for that, somehow.
"I'm a nice man," he whispers, and his face is so close now that his nose brushes against Charles' own, his breath warm on Charles' lips.
"No you're not, you're –"
Charles isn't even really sure why he started that sentence, because he knew from the start that he wasn't going to finish it. Not with Pierre looking at him like that.
He's ready for it, anticipating it when Pierre kisses the end of the sentence off his lips. Charles falls into it immediately, and Pierre's hand tightens on his waist, steadying him and pulling him closer all at once, and it's everything. After months of bickering, and winding each other up at every possible opportunity, and furiously pretending that he doesn't want exactly this, it's everything.
At least, it is until a too-bright android's voice chirps behind them, "Sir, sir! I've isolated the reverse power flux coupling!"
Charles jerks away from Pierre like he's been burned, feeling his cheeks flaming as he takes three or four hasty steps back. It's not enough, because he can still feel every place Pierre's hands touched his body prickling with a phantom heat. He wants to go back, to have Pierre touch him again. He wants to run as far away from here as possible.
Pierre watches him go, an mix of emotions Charles can't even begin to read swirling in his blue eyes.
"Thank you, 63O," Pierre says at last, shoving past the android with a low noise that sounds almost like a growl. "Thank you very much."
"Oh, you're perfectly welcome, sir," GR-63O replies, sounding genuinely delighted, and Charles doesn't know if he should laugh, or throw up his hands in despair, or curse at the android for ruining this for him.
The only thing he does know? Things between him and Pierre are never going to be the same way again.
I love him, he thinks, and if he imagines just hard enough, he can see the smirk on Pierre's face, and hear the way he'd reply, I know.
