Rating: R for lots of m/m foreplay

 Summary: Leia throws Luke a public birthday party, but the
 private one is more fun.

 Spoilers: Post RoJ, no profic

 Disclaimer: These are not my characters.  They are property of Lucasfilm,
 and I prmise to give them back.
 Distribution: Any and all.  You want it, you got it, just ask.
 Feedback: The voices will dance in your honor.
 Author's note: Inspired by the Q&A thread and a stupid filk of Greensleeves

 *****
 Gift-wrap
 c 2000 Angelia Sparrow
 *****
 *****
 Obligatory Opening Quote:

 Men, Men may I never lack
 I like the front and I like the back
 Tights, tights are just gift wrap
 And I love to open presents
 *****

 "I ain't goin'!"  Han announced for the third time in an hour.  Agitated, he
 slipped back into the rougher dialect of his smuggling days.  The echo
 reverberated down the long polished hall of their house.  "This is a stupid
 idea."

 "Humor me," came the response from a room down the hall.

 "Wasn't your stupid idea, kid.  It was your sister's."  He flopped onto the
 couch with an air of resignation.

 "So Leia decided to throw me a birthday party.  Well, throw us a birthday
 party.  It'll be fun.  I haven't had one since I was ten.  Not a real one."
 Luke still hadn't come out of the ‘fresher, but continued anyway.  Han,
 tired of yelling through the house, wandered down the hall to lean in the
 doorway.  "You never saw the farm house on Tatooine," Luke said.  "You know
 what one looks like?"  Han grunted an affirmative.  "Now imagine eleven kids
 chasing through the courtyard, startling the droids, and shaking the
 vaporater.    Aunt Beru was a saint about it."

 "But it's still a stupid idea.  I was planning a quiet evening, dinner
 someplace fancy, and maybe a few gifts.  Your sister's whim upset my plans."

 "And we know how wise it is to refuse Leia's whims, don't we?  Is it my
 fault our birthday falls on the Coruscant New Year?"

 "No, but--"

 "And is it my fault Leia decreed we'd celebrate it the old fashioned way?"

 "No, but--"

 "And if you say ‘but' one more time, I'll be kicking yours until you go get
 dressed!"  The smaller man stood toe to toe with his lover, a mock scowl on
 his face.

 "Don't tease, or we'll never make the party."  Han kissed the pouty lips
 that were so close to his own, being careful not to smudge the carefully
 painted face and fled down the hall to their room.

 "Now who's teasing?"  Luke, finally satisfied with his appearance, followed
 him.

 In the bedroom, Han was slipping on the unfamiliar garments.  "I still don't
 get why she decided on a costume party.  And why did I let you choose this?"

 "She said she was tired of seeing us in black all the time.  And masked
 balls are a very old Coruscant tradition.  You look utterly dashing, my
 love."  Luke stretched up to kiss him lightly.

 "And you look ridiculous.  But if you were any hotter, we wouldn't be making
 it out the door.  Shall we see what her worshipfulness has cooked up for
 everyone else?"

 On the small hall table, lay the masks they had chosen.  Luke tied the
 burgundy velvet scarf around Han's head and helped him adjust it so the
 eyeholes were comfortable, and topped it off with a wide brimmed black hat,
 with one side pinned up and full of burgundy and white feathers. He picked
 up the small white leather domino on a stick that was his, and slipped the
 loop around his wrist.  Han handed him the floor-length, electric blue
 thermo-silk cape, and slung on the synthvelvet roqulaire that came with his
 own costume.  As a final touch, he pulled on the wide cuffed, embroidered
 black leather gauntlets, and arranged the lace of his shirt cuffs around
 them.

 Luke was opening the door, when he found his back pressed to the frame and
 his mouth being plundered.  He relaxed into the kiss, and arched into the
 gloved hands stroking his bare chest and toying with the crossed straps of
 gold-chased blue leather.  Finally allowed up for air, he checked his
 face-paint in the hall mirror.

 "If we don't leave now, we're gonna find out just how hard this codpiece is
 to unlace," Han said in his ear, setting the jewelry there dangling.  Luke
 slipped out the door as quickly as he could, and into the waiting skimmer.

 Leia, resplendent in red gown and towering headdress, greeted them warmly as
 they came in.  They were a bit late, but not the last to arrive.  Then she
 took in the costumes.

 "Whose idea was this?" she demanded.

 "His," they both pointed at the other.

 "What possessed you to dress as a Finarian temple prostitute?"  She took in
 the blue harness, with the nearly inadequate pouch barely covering
 proprieties, the low blue boots, and the elaborate gold and blue swirls
 painted on her brother's face.  It did set off his eyes, she had to admit.
 "And how could you let him?  I thought you were the jealous type."

 "Ah, it's just a costume.  Now if he was actually working in the Temple of
 Finar, then I'd be jealous."

 "No, you'd be the first in line," came the Princess' tart response.  "Was
 this his idea too?"  She took in the velvet mask, the gathered lace at the
 neck and collar of the under-shirt, the extravagant folds and swoops of
 burgundy velvet that terminated at the top of his hips.  The white and
 burgundy striped codpiece set off the white leg and the burgundy leg of the
 tights he wore under the high polished boots.  "A Lovrian highwayman?  And
 how much padding did he add?" she added, casting a critical eye on the
 bulges under the stripes.

 "Nice!"

 Luke drew his lover away before the ongoing, if not unkind quarrel could
 continue.  "Let's dance."  He tossed over his shoulder as they left, "Oh,
 it's all real."

 The dance floor was a-swirl with couples and groups gyrating to the heavy
 rhythm popular for dancing.  A few half-familiar faces turned up in the most
 bizarre attire.  Surely the revered Dodonna, bouncing slightly out of time
 to the rhythm, should have had better taste than to show up as a Traviganian
 Satyr, and his partner, Mon Mothma, had done up as a chromo-wing flyer from
 Ruur.  Lando had, of course, dressed very flashily, but with only a red
 half-mask as an attempt at hiding his features.  Three women sat with him,
 listening to his stories, all human, although one was costumed as a Twi'Lek.
   Surprisingly, Wedge made a pretty fair Jedi, even if the lightsaber was no
 more than a tarted up flashlight.

 The rhythm gave way to jizz, and Luke dragged Han forcibly toward the punch
 bowl.  As they both drank, he recognized the tune and gave his lover a big
 innocent grin.

 "Sound familiar?"

 "All jizz sounds alike to me.  I hate the stuff.:"

 Luke's grin spread even more.  "It's the Modal Nodes.  The same song that
 was playing when we met back on Tatooine.  Took me most of the trip to get
 it out of my head."

 "I never knew you liked jizz wailers."  The music finally changed to
 something slow and melodic.  "This is more my taste.  You wanted to dance,
 let's dance."  He swept the younger man into his arms and propelled him
 around the floor slowly and gracefully.  He gave a firm enough lead that
 there was no confusion.

 At least until the music changed and a pair of high level female pilots cut
 in.  Luke, unaccustomed to leading, found he enjoyed it.  Being the taller
 partner intrigued him, and he spent almost two hours on the floor,
 partnering anyone who asked.  He didn't notice that Han had retired to a
 small couch after about half an hour until he was deep in conversation with
 Leia.

 "It's good to see Luke looking so happy," she commented. "Does he still have
 nightmares?"

 Han nodded.  "Not as often.  The last batch was about a month ago.  You
 remember negotiating with the fuzzballs that insisted on calling you ‘Lady
 Vader?'  Same thing with the Gu and him.  He took it hard."

 "We cannot help who our father was.  I just fear his shadow will hang over
 all we are trying to build.   I know Luke fears becoming like him.  As Luke
 is so fond of reminding us, fear is the path to the Dark Side."  She spoke
 to Han, but her eyes followed her brother, propelling an adoring lieutenant
 through an old-fashioned slidestep.

 "It's that right hand that usually worries him.  He'll wake up, and go and
 sit, watching the traffic and rubbing that hand.  He won't come back to bed,
 and he doesn't sleep again until his body demands it.  I'm glad I'm the one
 wearing gloves tonight.  I don't think he's even aware of the fact he wears
 them constantly after a nightmare.  Sleeps in them, even, like he can't
 stand to touch anything.  But, hey," he lifted her chin to look at him, "I
 didn't want to depress you on your birthday."

 She smiled at that.  "Do I get a birthday kiss, too?"

 "From both of us," he promised, his own lopsided smile surfacing, only to
 vanish as he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose,

 "Are you okay?" she asked.

 "Gettin' old.  Leftover present from my father-in-law.  Gets too late and my
 eyes start goin'.  Double vision, blurs then nothing."

 "That's why you don't fly much anymore."  The suddenness of the revelation
 startled Leia.  She realized Han was seldom to be found on his beloved ship,
 only flying the missions she requested of him, and never alone.
 "Hibernation?"

 "What else?  Here we go again, on depressing subjects.  Let me tell you the
 joke I heard making the rounds of the officers' mess.  I know you don't hear
 much up in the Senate chambers."

 Luke watched his sister and his lover, not trusting himself to not be
 jealous.  When Leia laughed at something Han said, he scowled, even though
 he suspect they were only talking about him.  No reason to let them have all
 the fun.  Their history was just that, history.  It was unworthy of him to
 even suspect otherwise.  When the dance ended, he excused himself from the
 floor, picked up three cups of punch and made his way to the couch.

 "Hey, Leia, where's the cake?" he asked, forcing the humor into his voice.

 "Coming in about half an hour."

 "C'mon, kid, I promised Little Sister here birthday kisses from both of us.
 How old are you?"

 "Twenty-six, and you know it, you pirate."

 "So you plant thirteen on the right and I get thirteen on the left."

 "But I'm only twenty-four," protested Leia.  "Alderaan had a longer
 planetary year than Tatooine."  Her brother's lips brushed her cheek,
 followed by his lover's on the other side.
 "On second thought, what's a couple years between friends?"  Her entire face
 tingled by the time they were done.

 "Have I told you how much I like your dress?"  Luke asked.

 "That reminds me," Leia said, handing him a holocube.  "Happy birthday.
 This is your present."  She activated it in the portable reader she took
 from an inner pocket.  The holo of a very young woman, almost still a girl,
 wearing the same dress, appeared.  It changed as it rotated, showing her at
 different ages, sometimes with a teen-age boy.  "It's Mother.  You asked
 about her once.  I cast around among the Alderaanian expatriates and found
 some records.  I compiled it for you."

 Luke froze the holo of her looking adoringly up at a young blond man in pale
 clothes and a tan cloak, a lightsaber on his belt..  "That's Father too,
 isn't it?"  Leia nodded, not really trusting her words.  Luke hugged her.
 "Thank you.  Han, you've got a pocket.  Hold this till we get home, would
 you?  I want to know it's safe."  He handed the cube over, and Han stowed it
 in the deep pocket of one sleeve.  He rummaged in the other, and brought out
 a flat box, which he handed to Luke.

 "This is for you.  Happy birthday."

 Leia opened the box.  "It's beautiful!  You carved it yourself, didn't you?"
   In the box, made from a fragment of wood from one of Endor's mighty trees
 was a highly polished triskelion on a slender chain.

 "I did.  I'm glad you like it."

 "Thank you."  She turned her back and held it up.  "Help me with the clasp?"
   The carving lay just below the hollow of her throat.

 They sat in silence and watched the guests dance for a while.  A small bell
 sounded and Leia hugged them both before rising to oversee the delivery of
 the food.  She unobtrusively left the holoplayer.  Han picked it up and
 brought out the cube.  He said nothing, but held them out to Luke.

 Luke moved closer to him, and put the cube in the player.  He relaxed a
 little when Han's arm went around him.  Silently, they watched the three
 dozen images that Leia had collected.  Luke froze it again at the image of
 his parents, and looked closely.

 Han made a mental comparison between the man in the holo and the one in his
 arms.  Definite height difference, but the same blond hair and blue eyes.
 Same cleft chin.  He didn't say anything, and the line of thought began to
 disturb him. He knew it would disturb Luke, who was already fearful of
 becoming his father.

 Threepio appeared at their elbow.  "Master Luke, Captain Solo, the Princess
 sends the cake with her compliments, and regrets her duties have called her
 away from the party for the moment.  She asks if you would be so good as to
 play host until she returns?"  He offered the tray he carried.  Large slices
 of cake, in a variety of flavors, were arranged on good plates.  Luke,
 indulging his sweet-tooth, took a pale green Kashyyk canopyberry slice and a
 rich-looking Coruscant Decadence piece.  Han opted for a flourescent yellow
 cloudfruit piece.

 "Keep eating like this, kid, and you won't be able to wear costumes like
 that anymore," Han teased, as Luke forked a bite of the dark brown slice
 toward his mouth.  Halfway there, he changed its course, and moved it up to
 hover in front of Han's mouth.

 "And explain to me why that would be a problem?" he asked as Han took the
 proffered bite.  "Your eyes are as green as Mon Mothma's wings tonight.  If
 you have a problem with me dancing with the ladies, you should be on the
 floor instead of getting cozy with my sister."

 Han nearly choked on the cake as that slipped out.  "What?" he sputtered.
 "We were talking about you!"

 The cool screens slammed down over Luke's face, warding off a fight while
 looking extremely bizarre with his costume.  "We will discuss this at home."
   They finished the cake without looking at each other.  "We can dance some
 more, or we can leave early.  Your choice."

 "Luke, my darling, it is your birthday and your choice," came the soft
 reply, accompanied by strong arms in soft velvet enfolding him.

 The endearment, so rare from his lover, startled Luke.  "I'd like to stay,"
 he said softly.  "I'd like to dance, and enjoy myself.  Shall we dance?"

 A lilting female voice over a merry, bouncy tune had begun, and they joined
 into the lively dance.  Through the slow pavane, through the circle dances
 and the lines, they danced.   Then, as they paired back up for a slow Three
 Step, the first trouble emerged.

 "You're leading again, Luke."

 "So follow."

 Han held his tongue and tried to follow, but his own training kept getting
 in the way.  What should have been pleasant was turning into a small battle
 of control.  Finally, the song ended.

 "Can we go?  Everything's goin' blurry."

 "Oh!  Of course.  Let me find Leia and we'll make our goodbyes."

 She had returned, and Luke found her near the door.  "Han's ready to leave,
 so we're off.  Thank you.  For everything."  She noticed how close the
 Corellian was staying, and that his hand never left Luke.  Leia hugged her
 brother, and then Han.

 "Take care of each other."  She touched the triskelion.  "And thank you,."

 Luke piloted the skimmer home, as Han sat beside him with closed eyes.  Once
 inside, Han stripped off the hat, mask, gloves and boots, set the holocube
 too carefully on the hall table, and lay down on the bed.

 Luke slipped out of the costume and washed off the paint before coming to
 sit on the bed wrapped in a soft tan robe.  "You can quit faking now."

 "What?"

 "You're not blurry.  You're well past that.  You were at blurry when we
 started dancing.  Why do you think I was leading?  You couldn't see the
 other dancers."  He untied the collar and sleeves of Han's shirt, and
 stripped it off of him.  "And you know the med-droid's orders."

 "I know, I know, at the first blurring go someplace dark, and rest or sleep
 if possible.  And report in to the med-unit as soon as possible."  Luke
 winced at the nagging sing-song in which Han recited the directions.

 "Now, you're going to have a nice shower, and then you're going to bed."

 "Dammit kid, I'm not an invalid or an infant."  Han pulled away and gained
 his feet, only to feel Luke's hands come around him from behind and a soft
 kiss on the back of his shoulder.

 "Or maybe I should have said, I'll finish unwrapping my presents and _we'll_
 have a nice shower..." He trailed his tongue over the taller man's shoulder
 blade as his fingers untied the laces of the codpiece.  "Can you see
 anything?" he asked, sliding the tights to the floor, and helping his lover
 step out of them.

 "The lights are on, and the big things like the bed."  Han made his way
 toward the ‘fresher, Luke never letting go of him.

 "Close your eyes.  Sit.  I'll run the water," Luke ordered.

 "Listen, about the leading thing.  Sorry that got ugly."

 "No, it didn't.  Were you and Leia really talking about me?  What made her
 laugh?"

 "Dumb joke.  I was trying to change the subject from your nightmares and my
 eyes.  I don't think it worked."

 "Water's ready, love."

 Han slipped under the stream, enjoying the way Luke had gotten it just
 right, as always.  He felt a wet body press next to his, and smiled before
 sweeping his lover into a kiss.

 "Mmm, bed later," Luke said, beginning to lather them with the soap.  "I
 don't care for sex in the shower, remember?"

 "I remember."  Han kissed him again.

 "Wash your hair or not?"

 "Not.  I hate going to bed with wet hair."  He bent his head to lick the hot
 water from his lover's cheeks.  "Here it is your birthday, and you're taking
 care of me."

 Luke kissed him hard.  "Do you hear me complaining?  Come on out, the
 water's going cold."

 "Remind me to install a bigger water heater tomorrow."

 They toweled each other off, and luxuriated in the heated room before
 returning to the rest of the house.  As Han buried his face in Luke's hair,
 kissing behind his ears, Luke said gravely, "The only thing you are doing
 tomorrow is going to the med-center and being checked over.  If Two- Onebee
 says you need a trip to the bacta tank, you're going, and no excuses this
 time."  He turned around and caught his lover's face with his hands,
 bringing it to him until their foreheads and noses touched.  "I love you,
 and I want you well.  If you keep this up, you won't be able to fly at all.
 And a grounded Han Solo can't be a pleasant person."

 "You're determined to get me into that red slime, aren't you?  All right,
 I'll go tomorrow morning."

 "Come to bed.  I want to enjoy what's left of my birthday by making love to
 you."

 "Hey, what about the resting in the dark like the med-droid ordered?"

 "We can rest in the dark.  Afterward."