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Whoever wishes to find Emperor Vader to deliver messages, request for audiences, and the likes, never quite knows exactly where said Emperor might be. Sitting at his desk in the throne room? It takes luck. Hidden away in the hangar of the former Imperial palace to tinker with whatever mechanism he can get his hands on? Very likely. Walking the corridors? Hard to miss. Monitoring his son’s progress in his studies and his intake of meals throughout the day? Indeed. If the stars align to make visits coincide with therapy days for SCAR squadron, then the Emperor might be found in a training room, sparring with Task Force 99 - for therapeutic purposes.
Currently, however, Emperor Vader is in a furniture shop.
Trying a sofa.
Or, better, a sectional sofa, now that it has been made clear that one Emperor, one Jedi Master, one bounty-hunter, and seven stormtroopers do not fit on a regular Corellian sofa, nor on any other models whose complicated terminology Vader has forgotten already.
(Fortunately, there are barely any witnesses besides a brave manager who’s keeping an eye on the shopping party, concerned about the worrying amount of weaponry strapped to some of the elements of said party and the damage that might befall the shop. The other customers all fled. The employees hid behind the counter. Even the assistant droids took refuge behind several smaller sofas.)
“What do you think?” Luke asks, sandwiched between Vader and Fett, who’s in turn crammed between Luke and Sergeant Kreel, who’s practically sitting on top of his piled squadron.
What is Vader supposed to think? It’s a sofa! It’s going into Luke’s office at the Temple, why does he need the opinion of his father, his body-guard, and his father’s self-entitled body-guards?
“I can’t breathe,” Fett complains quietly, resigned to his fate of bounty-hunter-turned-sofa-hunter.
“Zuke is sitting on my hand. I can’t feel it,” Shrap whines.
“Yeah, this one is quite small…” Luke agrees, somehow managing to squeeze himself away from Fett and Vader.
With a collective groan, the unlucky escorts all stand up, hurrying to follow Luke, whose attention is on another, bigger, L-shaped sofa.
(Luke decided he needed a sofa in his office. For reasons that escape Vader, Luke wanted his father to come along. Because it’s his job, Fett was already escorting Luke when he went into Vader’s office, thus saving him from boring paperwork and postponing the inevitable confrontation of bureaucracy versus Emperor. Because they had just left therapy and had the remainder of the day free, Sergeant Kreel and SCAR squadron promptly annexed themselves to the shopping party heading to the hangar.)
Pulling his cape aside for the humpteenth time since he set foot in the shop, Vader sits down at Luke’s right. Immediately, the cushion sinks under his weight and the structure groans pitifully. Fett sits at Luke’s left, dutifully followed by Kreel, Misty, Aero, Cav, Shrap, Mic, and Zuke - the couch groans again under the weight of his armour, giving Vader an odd sensation of… relatableness.
Flopping back onto the backrest, Luke wiggles on the cushion.
“Feels comfy,” he comments, then looks up at Vader for his verdict.
What is Vader supposed to think?? He’s not a man to sit around, he is the least qualified person in this shopping party to judge a seat!
“I can feel the springs…” Aero grunts, trapped between Mic and Zuke on a cushion that is, for design purposes that Vader can’t understand, narrower than the others.
“You’re wearing armour,” Mic points out.
“Exactly!”
“Ok, moving on!” Luke decides, jumping to his feet and making a beeline to yet another sofa two aisles down. It’s also L-shaped, with cushions so wide that Luke’s feet don’t touch the ground if he leans back. Finally, something for Vader to point out and fulfil his role of dutiful father!
“That is not ergonomic, young one!” And without even deigning to sit down, Vader takes Luke’s hand and pulls him up. He’s vaguely aware of Shrap throwing himself on the sofa, either for science or for the simple pleasure of getting to sit without being sandwiched between his comrades.
“You already have a desk with two seats and those meditation pillows. Why don’t you just keep some foldable chairs in a corner?” Fett grunts under his breath, earning Vader’s approval for the practicality but a deadpan look from Luke.
“The meditation pillows are perfectly adequate,” Vader points out (he doesn’t like the pillows), jumping in at the opportunity provided by Fett. It’s not like Vader doesn’t like spending time with his son, doing… normal activities. Such as shopping. Vader just doesn’t like feeling useless, and he is feeling exceedingly useless in this furniture incursion.
Looking around, Vader spots a couple of Rodians (probably, distracted customers who haven’t noticed the shopping party) using the same method as Luke’s: sitting down to judge the comfort level of the sofa. The male Rodian looks incredibly annoyed (before looking absolutely terrified upon seeing Vader) and once again, Vader experiences the pleasing feeling of relating to another sentient.
A loud gasp from Zuke has everyone turning around to look at him and watch him ignore Kreel’s direct command of Zuke, no in order to march towards… Vader doesn’t know what it is, but it’s a monstrosity that immediately makes Zuke disappear into its fluffiness. Misty follows his comrade and sits down as well, only to sink into the softness until only a pair of kicking legs is left.
What kind of trap is this and why is it available for the common citizen?
“That’s perfect!” Luke exclaims, without even having tried it, which only adds to Vader’s confusion: isn’t the whole point of this expedition to sit on the maximum sofas as possible and pick the most comfortable one? That thing isn’t even sofa-shaped! Before Vader can ask for a clarification, however, his son is gone, claimed by the devouring softness of whatever that contraption is.
Sergeant Kreel follows, then Cav and Shrap and Mic and finally Aero, who, despite his reluctant approach, is pulled into the trap by none other than Kreel (judging by the wristcomm, it’s him - only one arm is sticking out of that fluffy aberration.)
With a long, deep, suffering sigh, Fett walks up to that glorified cushion and jumps onto it. Judging by the OOOFFF and laughter that follows, he seems to have landed on one of Kreel’s men, much to Luke’s amusement.
Never to be accused of bad parenting again, Vader strides forward, takes momentum (and a little help from the Force) and leaps into the fluffy, giant trap.
Thankfully, it is indeed fluffy and soft and very shock absorbing, otherwise Luke would have gotten seriously injured from 120kgs of father landing on him.
“What is the purpose of this… giant bean bag, young one?” Vader asks, later, after the gargantuan task of removing the bean cushion from the transport ship, carrying it through the halls, and squeezing it through the doorway of Luke’s office has been fulfilled.
It’s a miracle of the Force that this obnoxiously huge cushion fits inside. It dwarfs everything around it - everything but Vader. It’s emerald-green and looks incredibly smooth to the touch. Vader can’t tell, since his prosthetics aren’t fitted with sensors… yet.
“Look at them,” Luke says quietly, tilting his head to the side, amused. But as much as Vader looks, he can only see a pair of legs or the occasional arm sticking out here and there from the depths of the bean bag.
“Your body-guard and SCAR Squadron are lost in there,” The vocoder doesn’t allow for amusement, but the bond Vader shares with his son is filled with it. With a chuckle, Luke shakes his head fondly.
“You’ll see,” Luke replies, cryptically Jedi to the point of making Vader audibly roll his eyes.
Whenever Vader is particularly upset, he seeks out his son. Only Luke has the power to calm him down, and since Vader has promised to keep Force-choking to a minimum, it seems only reasonable that he ditches whatever is disturbing his mood in favour of enjoying some therapeutic, quality time with his son.
He finds Luke in the archives, surrounded by books and datapads and using R2’s and Fett’s help to organise everything. Since Fett seems to have a penchant to tidy up and organise meticulously (and since R2 has given up on trying to electrocute him), Vader decides it’s a good idea to leave them to sort everything while he takes his son away.
Yet, it’s Luke who ends up leading the way into his office, and once the door is closed, he points at the monstrous bean bag.
Vader blinks once, twice, looks at his son, then at the bean bag again. Like it’s a creature capable of destroying him, Vader approaches slowly. He glances over his shoulder again, to see Luke nod.
Like he did in the shop, Vader leaps gracelessly onto the bean bag. It swallows him without complaint, and now that Vader isn’t worried about smashing his son under his weight, he takes a moment to appreciate how it feels… to be awkwardly sprawled on something this soft.
It’s almost like… floating. Of course, he’s tangled in his cape, and where his suit and prosthetic limbs find pressure to dig into him, it’s uncomfortable. But not painful. Still, he blocks it all from the Force, unwilling to let Luke feel it.
As if on cue, Luke lands next to him and immediately curls up by his side, then rests his head on Vader’s stomach.
It still shocks Vader how Luke is always so willing to be near him, to touch him.
Slowly - he’s still learning, after all - Vader reaches out with a hand and rests it on Luke’s blond head, then starts combing through his hair as gently as he can.
And this… this feels good. Comfortable. Soothing. Just lying here, in this soft devourer of bodies, with his son, in companionable silence. Vader’s frustrations and rage ebb away, dissipating in the Force, and he focuses on the love and calm and happiness Luke is filling their bond with. Their Force-signatures intertwine, their feelings mix and father and son are one in the Force.
Vader does not sleep. He meditates to rest his brain and replenish his strength, and leaves his body to the care of his suit. Right now, however? Vader dozes off, floating on that soft, foamy cloud with his son using him as a pillow.
When, shortly after, Vader wakes up with a startle, he is momentarily confused as to why he’s moving in such a sluggish, clumsy way. Memory is quick to return, and he doesn’t even need the Force to feel Luke’s reassuring presence - he can feel the weight of Luke’s head on his stomach, can feel him right next to him. He can’t look down because of the mask, so he prods Luke’s Force-signature, gently.
He’s awake.
“So, what do you think about this bean bag, father?” Luke asks, smugness lacing his voice and amusement rippling through their bond.
“It’s preposterously comfortable…” And yet, Vader still does not understand why Luke has decided to put it in his office. Instead of admitting it aloud, he’ll just wait for Luke to explain it. He knows his son will.
“And what do you do when you’re comfortable?” Oh, Luke is enjoying himself. Since he still has a hand on his son’s hair, Vader ruffles through it mercilessly, earning a soft laugh. “You relax, father… right?”
He did relax.
“Then, why is it not in an area of public access?”
At that, Luke chuckles and props himself up as best as he can on the unstable, soft surface of the bean bag. He was a kind, patient smile on his smile:
“Would you relax in public? Or any of your troopers? Or Fett? Or Thrawn? Or Veers? Or Piett?” Of course not. At Vader’s lack of response, Luke grows only a little more smug and flops down, this time lying halfway over Vader’s stomach. Content, Vader places both hands on Luke’s back.
“You chose this one because it got a much more enthusiastic response. In public,” It makes sense, now. And the reason as to why Luke wanted a sofa instead of meditation pillows.
Whoever needs guidance and counselling, eventually finds their way to Luke. From the rankless trooper to the Emperor himself, Luke Skywalker - currently the only Jedi Master in existence - hears everyone’s woes and offers comfort and advice, either in the form of a smile or deep conversations. But there are those who, though not particularly talkative, find peace in Luke’s soothing presence.
(It had been Vader commanding Kreel to talk to Luke, since Kreel was resisting group therapy so much. SCAR Squadron are among the finest and Vader would not let the squadron fall apart due to internal convulsions and Kreel’s stubbornness. After a few sessions of fixing lightsabers and doing some training with his squad under Luke’s supervision (and eventually, with Vader himself), things began to improve and negative reports stopped reaching Veers…)
So, that’s why Luke wanted a sofa in his office… To receive and to make comfortable those who seek him.
“Besides…” Crossing his arms under his chin, Luke gives Vader a fond look. “... you did say once that the meditation pillows are uncomfortable for you, father.”