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“What do you mean there are no more flights?” Eli growls at the attendant.
She sighs. This is likely not her first angry customer of the day and she is even less likely to help him given his human-ness, political rank aside. “The weather is too inclement. All flights are grounded.”
“This is Csilla. The weather is always inclement.”
She eyes him. “To you, perhaps.”
Eli barely suppresses a groan. “When is the next flight to Naporar?”
“Tomorrow night.”
He nods. “Great. I'll take that one.”
She nods and prints his ticket for him. “Safe travels.”
The rotten bastards of the public space line didn't even offer him a hotel voucher, and because his luck is infinite, all of the restaurants in the space port have closed up for the night. He finds the most pathetic vending machine he has ever had the misfortune of witnessing and punches his selection. It gets stuck, because of course it fucking does.
Resigning to spend his night hungry, he finds a quiet part of the port and calls Thrawn.
“You're early,” Thrawn says by way of greeting.
“I'm actually going to be very, very late. Some winter storm has grounded all outbound flights.”
“I see,” Thrawn says, his disappointment easily recognizable.
“I'm so sorry. Go to the lighting without me.”
“Not when next year will provide the same opportunity.”
Every year, there is the Light of the Solstice Celebration. On the outskirts of the capital, there is a reservoir with clear crystalline stones. Lights are placed behind the rocks and ignited at once to light their way into the new year. He has never gone, has never had the time to go. But the war is over now.
Eli never thought his life would be like this—that he could comfortably plan something a year in advance. That he would be disappointed to miss out on a holiday celebration with his partner. It is these little things to which he still finds himself adjusting.
“Alright. Next year then,” he says, smiling to himself while he settles further into the angular plastoid chair.
“Are you in a hotel?”
“No,” Eli sighs, pinching his nose.
Thrawn tuts, clearly upset by this injustice.
“I've slept in worse places.”
“That is not the point.”
“I don't think they would have given me a room even if I was Chiss. Every flight is grounded, there are probably a lot of angry people right now.”
He sighs, tempered by the lay of the land. “Did you at least get dinner?”
“Yeah,” Eli lies as he scrounges through his bag and finds an emergency ration of nuts and dried berries. He knows Thrawn probably slipped this in his bag and he smiles to himself.
“What did you have?”
“The snack mix you packed in my bag.”
He huffs. “You never remember to eat until everything is closed.”
“Which is why I firmly believe that every city should have at least one twenty-four hour dive.”
“Ah yes, make your procrastination someone else's problem.”
“I'm a politician now, that's exactly what politicians do.”
“A temporary assignment under the Syndicure does not make you a politician.”
Eli smirks. “What did you have for dinner?”
“I made soup for us, but seeing as you are not here, there will be ample left overs for tomorrow.”
Eli's stomach rolls. “I miss you.”
“It has been a week. We have been apart longer.”
“Yeah, but now I'm old and comfortable.”
“I do not recall the spaceport seats being particularly soft.”
Eli shifts. “Well, I'm not comfortable at this moment, but you know what I mean.”
“Indeed, I do. What time is your rescheduled flight?”
Eli tells him and their conversation ebbs and flows for hours. They discuss their respective weeks, their work, what they are frustrated by—Thrawn's students continue to flourish, but those who have parents who could be mistaken for a hovercraft cause issues for him.
Eli tells him about his week balancing the finances for the Syndicure and how, though he hardly slept and worked incredibly long hours, he doesn't feel like he accomplished anything.
“The Syndicure has always been corrupt. Your efforts will not cure it overnight.”
“Yeah,” Eli says, eyes focused on the metal rafters overhead.
“You did well. Do not let the political pollution convince you otherwise.”
Years ago, that would have made him blush, and maybe a little hard. Now, he just feels warm in the way only kind words from your partner can make you feel. “Thank you.”
Thrawn hums, trying to disguise a yawn.
“I should let you go,” Eli says.
“You will not sleep in such a public space.”
“Nah, probably not, but you aren't in a public space so you don't have an excuse.”
“Yes I do.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Your absence.”
Eli has been shot before, and his words have the same searing impact. “It's only been a week.”
“Yes, but I have grown much older and more comfortable.”
Eli laughs. “Only a few more hours.”
“I will be waiting.”
~
Eli always travels light. The habit started somewhere during his time with the Empire, and so, when his flight finally lands he doesn't bother stopping at the luggage corral.
Thrawn doesn’t lean. Half the time Eli thinks his spine is made of durasteel, but seeing him and his ramrod spine standing next to one of the pillars in the arrivals hall makes his knees weak.
“Hey,” he says lamely. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Thrawn scoffs. Eli fished him from some backwater planet years ago. A trip to the space port is negligible. “How was your flight?”
Eli shrugs. “I'm just ready to be home.”
They walk to the speeder, doing their best to seem like two friends and not lovers. Only when they are in the speeder does Thrawn take his hand. Eli leans over and kisses him.
His lips are dry, but Eli doesn't mind, he is too caught up in the sensation of coming home in more ways than one. He pulls away and Thrawn chases his touch. “When we get home there's more of that in store.”
“Is that so?” Thrawn says as he puts the speeder in drive.
“Oh yeah.”
The drive is short, but the conversation is warm, especially with the way Thrawn keeps his hand on Eli's thigh while he drives. They climb up the five flights of stairs to their apartment and Thrawn pushes open the door.
Eli had expected the apartment to be dark. The sun goes down horribly early at this time of year, but instead a warm glow beckons him into the apartment.
“What's all this?” Eli asks, looking around.
Thrawn has pulled out every piece of glassware they have and placed them throughout the house with twinkling lights.
“The Solstice.”
Eli looks up at him and Thrawn takes his hand.
“The war may be over, but time has always been ruthless. We are only guaranteed today.”
“Then I guess we better make today count then, shouldn’t we?”
Thrawn leans closer, his lips grazing Eli’s. “Indeed, we should.”