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They're beautiful. The scars. The ones that Luke wishes he could trace with his fingertips. The ones he wishes he could look up close without needing a reason, without having to explain the inexplicable rush of tangled messiness whenever Luke sees him. Without an ounce of shame. The shame that clogs his skin whenever he remembers that he can't feel like this, that he shouldn't—
The Jedi do not have attachments
He's told Luke of how the scars came to be, what they mean. The day he lost everything, he'd said. The rueful smile had cut something deep in Luke's chest, wanting and wanting to remove the hurt, the guilt, the grief in his expression.
The raised skin is simply another part of him Luke has come to appreciate, to love, and admire like every other bit of his being. If Luke focuses hard enough, he would be able to conjure the image perfectly. Those light pink lines carved into his skin, a straight slash over the bridge of his nose and a curve over his jaw. Blaster burns.
By my master's troops. My friends.
Luke knows he can draw up the rest of his expression in his mind. From the light quirk of his brows, down to the creases by his eyes as he grins, even the small scar cutting into that self-assured yet humble grin.
Luke once wondered how could someone's eyes be so blue they're practically a starry grey. The colour of the ever bright hyperspace.
When they first met, Luke was reassured by his steady, serious presence. Here was an older Jedi with a commanding aura, almost severe in his grimness. Unlike Luke, he no longer stumbles in the dark, and Luke knew this Jedi could guide him.
But then he smiled.
It'd stolen his breath right out his chest, disarmed all of his defences. Luke had never seen something so beautiful.
He was radiant and sweet. Charming and dazzling and capable all at once. Something Luke considered himself lucky to be able to see almost every day.
All of the horrific things his friend had gone through are unbelievable. Unbelievable how something so precious can still shine despite the cracks.
"What are you looking at?" Cal asks, tilting his head to the side, that same light smile playing on his lips.
Luke blinks.
He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He swallows hard, hoping to the Force that everything is clouded or walled off by his defences.
He shakes his head, hands clasped in his front, anything to sway the older Jedi's attention off of him.
Is this what Leia felt around Han all the time?
Flustered and tongue-tied? No wonder she always had a short fuse with the ex-smuggler.
But Luke can't even invoke the slightest bit of indignation, even to save his dignity. Because this is Cal. He wouldn't ever tease Luke like that. He’s too kind for that. A fact that only makes his heart warm and his face flush even further, ensuring he's trapped in a cycle of pining he can't break out of.
He clears his throat and shakes his head again, sliding on the well-worn serene expression.
"Just you."
Cal stares at him. Silent. Ever-present. The smile never faltering.
"Alright," Cal murmurs, bright blues twinkling—looking boyish and mischievous despite his age, "Then you won’t mind if I return the favour, right?"
Luke grips his wrist tighter, feeling the knobs of his prosthetic to ground himself. "Of course not."
Cal inclines his head. The scar on his lip stretches with the growing grin on his face. "Good. I'm glad."
Luke finally looks away, the heat in his ears unbearable.
Stars.
If Cal focused on the side of his face any harder, he'd be burning a hole. The soft chuckles coming from Cal only worsen the curling heat in his gut.
"You're enjoying this too much," Luke levels out, despite the tumultuous need to keen or scream in the back of his throat.
"I know. Can't help it," Cal says, laughter still in his voice. Luke relaxes when he realises the amusement in Cal's tone isn't there at his expense but simply at Luke's, admittedly, guilty reactions.
"You're easy to rile up under those 'Jedi faces' you wear."
Luke raises an eyebrow at him, resisting the urge to step back when Cal steps closer—needing to crane his neck up to meet those blue eyes. Force, he's tall.
"What do you mean?"
The smile on Cal's face is undeniably fond, easy and bright. Sweet.
"You pretend like nothing bothers you when I know for fact—" Cal ducks his head closer. Luke flinches back, eyes wide and breath trapped, "—that you can be as fiery as Leia when you want to be. Sometimes even more."
"What makes you think that?" Luke manages to breathe out, eyes catching onto the pink lines over Cal's stupidly pretty face.
"Besides knowing who both of your parents are, I know you, Luke." Cal's smile dims into something more rueful. "And I know that countless of the Jedi I knew before… before the Purge, the ones you call 'real Jedi’," Cal trails off and reaches out with his un-gloved hand to brush the underside of Luke's chin, the touch light but searing on Luke's skin, "could never do half of the things you've done. And not for a lack of trying. Trust me on that."
Luke's brain fizzles out at the second feather-light touch as if he's BD-1's malfunctioning broadband antenna.
"Y-You're really enjoying this, huh?"
Cal's calloused fingers retreat and Luke forces down the whine in his throat. Concern crosses the redhead's features. "Should I stop?"
Kriff, never do.
"It's fine. I-I'm just—" Luke clears the hoarse croak in his throat and straightens up, pulling his wobbly shields together. "—I'm confused, that's all."
Understanding replaces the concern, and that same bare hand reaches out for him. "Then let me clear it up for you—"
"We're landing soon."
Luke jumps out of his skin, looking at the doorway where Cere stands. There's a knowing glint in her eye that Luke doesn't particularly love.
Luke swallow and nods. "We'll be right there, Cere. Thank you."
Luke chances a glance at Cal, blinking at the look of irritation on his friend's face. He's never seen Cal look that annoyed before. It’s new. And exhilarating, like every other new thing he learns of Cal.
Cere and her ex-padawan share a silent conversation, mostly consisting of Cal’s widening stern eyes and shaking head. After a few more confusing glances, it ends with Cere leaving the bunk with a secret smile on her face.
The annoyed exasperation dissipates when Cal looks back at him, only to adopt a sheepish expression at Luke’s unwavering stare.
"Uh," Cal starts, flustered, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink as his scars. Luke has to tamper down the blazing flare of fondness. "We should go."
Luke has to bite back the smile threatening to crack through. They should go. They’re about to land on some other backwater planet for the third time in the week, on some wild goose chase for a rumoured Jedi artifact. It’s reckless, impulsive, and completely unlike the Jedi reputation he’s built upon himself. But he’s realised in the past two months he’s spent in the Mantis Crew’s company, he’s never felt so alive—not since the Empire fell and the New Republic was erected.
Here, drifting in the stars, in the middle of Wild Space, Luke has never felt more at ease, has never felt more like himself.
(Back when it all first ended, when he’d defeated the Emperor and brought his father back, it was so frighteningly easy to lose himself. He’d thought himself the last Jedi in the entire galaxy. The weight of the dead Order fell onto his shoulders like an unmovable rock, and the mountainous work ahead of him chipped away at him slowly until he’d become a shell of a perfect Jedi Master.
Then, Cal found him. Luke’s saving grace. He dragged Luke out of the muck, out of the isolated emotionless misery of a Jedi who decided to take on an impossible task. He breathed life back into Luke, stoked his passion and shooed away the self-doubts, reminded him of the reasons why he wanted to be a Jedi in the first place.
Cal gave him a reason to go on. Cal told him that he wasn’t and will never be alone again. Luke couldn’t be surprised when the feelings started.)
Unsure where the burst of confidence comes from, Luke gathers it all into his hands and steps right back into Cal's space, leaning back to meet his eyes fully.
"This isn't finished," Luke says, matter-of-factly.
At first, Luke wonders if he’s overstepped the blurry boundaries, only to stop and stare as the pink in Cal's ears turns to full-blown redness, scarred lips parting in silence. The blues of Cal's irises thin out, lost in the blackness of his blown pupils. Luke shouldn’t want so badly, but he does. He truly does.
The older Jedi nods once, slowly as if he were unsure, then faster and more absolute.
"Ah—yeah, sure, of course, Luke. Anything you want."
The words, like Cal himself, are maddeningly enticing. But Luke did not earn the title of Master Jedi for nothing.
"Come on. Everyone's expecting us. You know how impatient BD gets," Luke says, turning on the heels of his boots, his serene 'Jedi face' slotted right back in place. The brief flicker of fond disappointment in the Force doesn’t change Luke’s mind.
"You're enjoying this too much," Cal remarks behind him, amused.
"I can't help it," Luke says, grin in his voice, echoing Cal’s words, "You're easy to rile up."
A hand encloses around his elbow, pulling him around right before he can exit the bunk. Cal stares down at him, eyes flickering down lower.
Luke finds his own eyes wandering away from those grey blues, onto the scar on his nose, the scar on his jaw, the scar on his lips.
"You keep staring at them,” Cal murmurs, unsure.
"Because they're beautiful," Luke blurts out quietly, unable to help himself. And regrets it instantly.
But Cal doesn't look upset nor does he wince at Luke's reckless words, only looks pensive and even a little—a little stunned.
"They are?" Cal asks slowly, ever so soft. Luke can only nod gently, not wanting to look away from those sweet pink lines.
"They're you," Luke admits, baring a piece of the secret he's kept close to his chest. If only to let Cal know how much Luke treasures him. "That's why."
Cal's pensive expression deepens and he bites down on his lip, scarred and irresistible and pink and kriff—
"That shouldn't be allowed," Luke huffs, breathless and this close to losing it. Cal laughs then.
"Hey! Both of you! Do you guys want to get thrown to the walls when we land? Cause that's what's gonna happen if you don't stop ogling at each other!"
"Perfect timing, Greez, as always," Cal mutters under his breath.
"Okay, we've really got to go this time," Luke says. He steps backward and grabs onto Cal's gloved wrist, pulling Cal out of his bunk, grabbing his friend's poncho on the way out.
Luke always makes an effort to avoid Cal's bare hand, not wanting the older man to touch his prosthetic on accident and see something that could hurt him. But, like right now, he's surprised when Cal only switches it out, grabbing Luke's bare hand with his own, the warmth delightful as always.
"You think Merrin's gonna be mad that her bet is a few days off?" Luke asks, glancing over his shoulder. Cal laughs again, shrugging. "We can pretend. Like you said, we haven't finished that conversation. It’s not official till then, right?"
Luke tightens his grip on Cal's hand, feeling it curl tighter around his in response.
"Guess that's a no, then," Cal murmurs, grinning so wide and sweetly Luke's heart tumbles to the floor, overflowing with warmth and affection he can't contain.
"Not to mention, you've got an awful Sabacc face," Luke comments lightly, not letting Cal snipe back by tugging him out into the open space of the Mantis ship and the curious eyes of their friends.
"Ha! I won! Guess you two owe me," Greez calls out to Merrin, who looks irritated despite the smirk on her face, and a chuckling Cere. BD chirps happily, sprinting to them and dancing around their feet.
Luke can feel Cal's eyes on the side of his face and turns to meet those bright blues.
He's beautiful. Cal Kestis. And Luke supposes there is no need for the shame anymore. Not here. Not where Cal can dispel every single of his worries with a careless sweet smile.