Work Text:
He's on a planet he doesn't remember the name of, his skin reeks of sweat and something sweeter. He feels all his senses come to terms with wakefulness in slow succession, and he begins to stretch ever so slowly in the systematic way he does that's a product of a body and mind desperate for routine in a life sorely bereft. He doesn't get past curling his toes and flexing his ankles when he stops under the weight of his first major realization of the morning.
She's breathing.
She's laying beside him and he feels the tears well up in his eyes as he lets it sink in. She's right beside him, his skin is microns from her skin and she's breathing the same air he was breathing a minute ago before the sheer happiness overwhelmed him and found a home lodged in his throat instead of in his chest. So there he is, Grand Master Luke Skywalker, weeping in his marriage bed because his sleeping wife is breathing.
She's been breathing for decades, he thinks to himself as he blinks rapidly, cursing his ability to channel the force but his inability to control his own emotions. This isn't anything new, this isn't special, but it's overwhelming his brain and it feels like he's short circuiting.
How is he going to survive the rest of his lifetime with a woman who reduces him to wet eyes and quiet gasping breaths just from the way the sun skims the creamy skin of her naked back and the way she breathes? How is he going to look her in the face and watch her eyes hazy from sleep stare back at him as he says good morning, without dissolving into a puddle of awe? As she starts to stir he frantically begins to scrub the tears away from his eyes, knowing no amount of friction will wipe the pathetic look from his face...but maybe she'll allow him this. This moment to bask in the wonder of her breathing the air he breathes.
He can hear her eyelashes brushing against the pillow as she begins her own process of waking up. Their process, he realizes, because from now on they will wake up together. In the too-small bunks in the Millennium Falcon, to the more spacious berths in the Jade's Fire, and inevitably the cells found in the underbelly of some godforsaken planet. They will do this together, and for a brief moment his heart breaks because he knows it won't always be this easy, it's going to be hard and he's so sorry for that. And maybe they won’t always do this together, maybe she will be half a galaxy away from him, but he lets himself believe for just a moment that this is the start of every morning he will ever wake up to for the rest of his living days.
She's the one who pulls him out of his daze, isn't she always? Face half pressed into the ridiculously plush pillow leaving one green eye to peek out at him almost shyly, the ring on her hand catching the light as her fingers tumble in a jaunty wave. He knows nothing about this woman is shy, and that she won't be shy when she stops wearing that ring because she can't afford to slip one day if it compromises her grip. And that's okay, because she's wearing it right now and she's sighing “C’mere, farmboy.” as she reaches out to draw him closer, and he has no idea as to how he's still breathing.