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The streets are bustling. More crowded than usual, which for Coruscant is not a statement to be taken lightly. People flood the narrow streets, their voices raised high just to be heard. It’s not usually your style: noise, crowds, bright lights, it can all get a little overwhelming. But then, the hand in yours tightens its grip, squeezing for just a moment. When you glance to your side, the wonder on Echo’s face instantly washes away all your agitation, and reminds you why you’re braving the Life Day markets in the first place.
He hadn’t understood at first. Weeks ago, when he had told you the dates of his next block of shore leave, your giddy reaction had confused him. Even after you had explained that he would be with you for Life Day, he didn’t seem to grasp why you were so excited.
“You… You’ve never celebrated Life Day, have you?” you had asked, cautiously. Echo’s gaze had dipped a moment, as though in shame, like it did any time he was faced with natborn customs he wasn’t familiar with. After a beat of hesitation, he shook his head.
“I’ve heard of it. Don’t really know what it is, though.”
You had made your mind up in that instant to give Echo the best first Life Day you could. The two of you had been an item for only a few months, but already it was clear: if a man this kind, this gentle, this thoughtful and selfless didn’t deserve a real, bona fide, downright magical holiday, then nobody did.
From the look on Echo’s face now, your plan had started off well. His eyes are shining, darting frantically from one thing to the next. The lights, the musicians, the stalls with their gifts and comfort foods, he’s as eager as a tooka pup to take in every little detail. You love these moments with him, when you get a glimpse of the young man underneath the soldier, buried beneath layers of war. The two of you pass through an ornately-decorated archway, garlands of fresh foliage climbing the canopy, bright sprays of flowers and winking lights nestled among the green. Despite the crowd, the tension eases from your shoulders, and you find yourself smiling right back when Echo looks your way.
“It’s beautiful,” he says. The usual crease in his brow has lifted, and his smile is easy. “I’ve never seen so much green in the city. Is it like this every year?” You nod, trying not to look too starstruck by the twinkling lights reflected in Echo’s eyes. But damn him, he’s not making it easy. He looks gorgeous, dressed in the first of the gifts you had gotten him: a pair of slacks, a dark shirt and matching deep blue jacket.
“Something to make you feel more at home when you’re on leave,” you had explained as he had opened the parcel in your apartment that morning. “Less bulky than your armour.” Self-consciousness had quickly set in on you then, to make you worry you were being too forward, or too presumptuous. But just as you had started babbling about having the gift receipt and Echo being able to exchange it if he wanted, he had cut you off with a swift, deep kiss. Tender but firm, the way he always did, the way that had you melting into his embrace. You were glad for his arm around the small of your back, or your knees may have given way.
“You
always
make me feel at home,” he had said, before a boyish grin spread across his face. “But you couldn’t pay me anything to return these.”
While you had always loved seeing Echo looking proud and polished in his ARC trooper armour, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now, huddled into his new jacket and draped in one of your scarves. He looks relaxed, almost domestic, and happy. It’s hard not to be infected by his excitement, and soon you’re feeling like a child again, almost giddy with the holiday spirit. The two of you wander a while, passing choirs of people singing familiar holiday tunes and small children weaving frantically through the crowd. You pause a moment to admire a vendor’s table, your eye caught by a display of etched glass flowers. They’re beautiful, catching the coloured light and throwing it back as though lit from within, intricate and resplendent. You try to call Echo to look at them, but raise your head to find his attention is elsewhere. There’s a stall nearby selling mudhorn eggnog, the warm, spicy scent hanging thick in the air. While Echo tries not to look distracted by it, you catch his slowed steps and lingering eyes and tug him back over to get you both a cup. You can’t help but laugh when he lights up like a child after taking the first sip. He downs the whole thing in minutes, while you’re still nursing yours the whole train ride home.
It’s a relief to be home, both to get out of the cold and to get a break from the crowds and the noise. Your apartment is warm and cosy inside, trimmed with its own decorations, albeit much more modest than the market. Sweet-smelling flower garlands hung by the door greet you when you enter, rich red with gold ribbons tying them together. As you step through the door, Echo takes your hand in his and holds it tight.
“I want to thank you,” he says softly, turning to face you. “Really. For all of this.” He takes your hat, and you can’t help your smile.
“You don’t need to thank me. I couldn’t let you miss the markets. And I had fun, too,” you tell him. “Besides, it’s not over yet.”
The main event of the day was indeed yet to come. The most important part of Life Day, you had told Echo, was spending time with family, with loved ones over an entirely-too-big meal.
“You sure you’re okay having all of them over?” Echo asks you with a nervous chuckle. “They can get a bit… much.”
“They’re your family,” you reply, without a hint of hesitation. Echo has told you stories of his brothers. Lots of stories. He never stopped talking about them, in fact. Fives, especially. It never stops being cute how excited he gets whenever he has another piece of gossip or misadventure to share. From what you can gather, this dinner is sure to be an eventful one. “Besides, if they’re anything at all like you, it will at least be as fun as it is chaotic.”
Echo laughs.
“I’ll do my best to keep them in line. ARC Trooper’s honour.” He flashes a grin, and you pause a moment just to admire it in the soft, warm light, and to thank whatever god is on your side that you get to be part of this man's family.
“I really do mean it, though,” Echo insists. “Today has been perfect. Not just because of the markets, or the gifts, or the dinner. It’s perfect because I get to do it with you.”
For a moment, the two of you are caught in something strange, something beyond words. Echo’s gaze is intense, but you can’t seem to look away. Slowly, he reaches out, gentle but sure as ever, and tugs at your scarf until it falls from your neck. Your lips part, and Echo takes his chance.
“Think we could make it even more perfect?” he murmurs, and you barely have time to give a shaky nod before his lips are on you. Your scarf falls to the floor, his hands more eager to find grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You move slow, shedding your jackets in a pile by the door, kisses growing slowly deeper, longer, more hungry with every snatched breath. Echo’s hand dips below the waist of your pants, gripping tight to your hip. He uses the hold to walk you backwards toward the couch, edging you back until you’re perched on its arm.
“You looked so gorgeous under all those lights,” Echo says against your mouth, combing a hand tenderly through your hair. “Wish it could be like this every day. Just you and me.” Your heart stutters in your chest, both soars and plunges through your stomach. You
ache. How did a man this perfect end up being yours?
But for all his suave, romantic charm, Echo
also
has a downright devilish streak of mischief in him. He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker. You’re floating, hanging on each kiss, every touch sending shivers across your skin. A warm hand creeps up under your shirt. You gasp. Echo smirks. And then, just as quick as it had started, it stops. Echo pulls back, laughing softly when you lean forward to try and chase his lips.
“Come on,” he says, his tone downright
smug.
“We’ve got a lot of cooking to get done before dinner.”
You try to glare at him, but it’s hard when you’re still trying to both catch your breath and fight the flush on your cheeks.
“You’re a jerk.”
“I’m
your
jerk. “
He pulls you into the kitchen, then leaves you with a lingering peck on your cheek. You jump when he drops his arm to pinch a handful of your ass.
“I’ll make it up to you tonight.
Promise.
”
And as much of a tease as Echo can be, he
always
keeps his promises.
Hours later, you‘re left with a mountain of food, the two of you covered in splotches of spilled sauce and dusted with flour. There’s far too much to fit neatly in your kitchen, and soon the plates are stacked on the counters and in the chiller.
“Are you sure we’ll need all of this?” you ask, lifting a roasted tip-yip out of the oven and struggling to find a free space for it.
“Trust me, we’ll get through it,” Echo laughs. “You’d be surprised how much the boys can eat.”
As if on cue, you hear voices from down the hall, raucous and quickly getting closer. It’s all the warning you get before they’re at your door. They’re everything Echo had warned you of; loud, boisterous, and overwhelmingly energetic. But they’re also just as warm and kind as Echo. It seems Echo has told them about the traditions of the holiday, too: as they enter, Kix presents you with a bottle of wine, and Jesse, a small potted plant. Fives offers a box of fancy-looking chocolates, as well as, much to Echo’s humiliation and his brothers’ glee, a box of less-fancy-looking condoms. Echo looks like he wants to sink through the floor, his face flushed bright red. Despite your own sheepishness, you can’t help but find it almost heartwarming how his brothers instantly treat you like one of their own, childish jokes and all. You even find yourself laughing along.
Somewhere in the distraction, things must have changed hands, because when the commotion dies down and you turn around, Echo is also holding a small box. He offers it to you, bashful in a way you haven’t seen from him before. It’s clear why when he gets a chorus of teasing ‘
ooh
’s and ‘
aww’
s from his brothers. You pull away the ribbon around the box, breath stolen from your lungs when you open it. The blue etched glass flower is just as beautiful as it had been displayed in the market stalls.
“I saw you admiring it,” Echo says with a timid smile. “So I comm’ed the boys for some help. I– I hope it’s–”
“It’s beautiful. I love it,” you interject, trying to fight off the prickle behind your eyes. You have no hope, however, of fighting down your smile: it’s so wide your cheeks ache.
The flower takes pride of place as the centrepiece of the dining table as you all sit down. The meal is everything a Life Day family dinner should be: loud, messy, happy, and long. You get to know Echo's brothers well, through three courses, dessert, a cheese board, and caf. And as a bonus, you get a whole lot of new stories about Echo that they're all too happy to regale you with. Many that, judging by his reaction, Echo is a little less than pleased to have shared. Luckily, another mug of eggnog is enough to placate him. There's even time for a cheesy Life Day holo-film before the hour gets late and the others have to leave.
The hour is late, but it’s finally just the two of you once more. You're nestled into Echo's side on the couch, warm and fuzzy from the rich food and the pleasant company. Your eyelids are getting heavier by the minute.
“I want this every year,” Echo says suddenly, and you can't help but hold him tighter. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, one that starts sweet and chaste. But soon, his lips are travelling down to your temple, then your cheek. Maddeningly, he skips past your mouth and dips instead to mouth at your neck. You give an appreciative hum, leaning into the touch, your heart beginning to flutter. As close to sleep as you had just been, you're wide awake when Echo speaks into your ear, sending shivers across your skin.
“But for now…I still have a promise to keep.”