maskormenacelogs | must i paint you a picture

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must i paint you a picture

WHO: Han Solo and you!
WHERE: Heropa.
WHEN: part 1: 11th-12th, part 2: the weekend after the swear-in
WHAT: it's summertime and Han's going stir-crazy, which clearly means it's time to repaint the house eye-searing colors. damn it, Han.
WARNINGS: probably none, unless clone shenanigans happen?

[one: prep time || 11th-12th]

[The first thing Han does is buy better, sturdier ladders. There's at least one kid who's willing to help him out, and damn if Han's going to let him fall because of the rickety old thing collecting dust and rusting away in the house. No, he's going to get new, sturdier ones that aren't missing rungs.

The second is to buy the paint supplies. And that's why he's parked just outside a very large store at the moment, hauling out his new purchases: paint rollers, trays, buckets of paint, the works. He makes several trips, occasionally stopping to rest up against his car because, wow, all this stuff is heavy.

Someone should ask him what he's up to.]

[two: house painting || 14th-16th]

[After the chaos of the swear-in, Han's looking forward to just spending the weekend working on the house. Still, he finds himself waiting until both his housemates are out of the house before he starts hauling out the supplies he bought. Once they're gone, that's when he ventures out and goes to work on the house.

The thing about painting a house is that it takes more than one or two people to get the job done quickly, so Han would in fact appreciate the help—his goal is to at least get most of the house in this color scheme by the end of the weekend, and he didn't exactly ask his housemates (or the neighbors) if they were keen on getting the house painted.

But, uh, at least it'll stand out, right? That's what matters here!

Also, a little note for all you, ah, aesthetically-inclined folks out there: once the heat gets less bearable, Han's changing into a thin, sleeveless shirt, the better to cope with the kriffing heat out here. So, you know, come help him out—one way or another, you're sure to get an eyeful.]

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On one of those trips… suddenly some of Han's purchases are walking alongside him.

…No, they're not; someone else has picked some up and started helping Han without being immediately noticed.

"Let me guess," came Cassian's voice from the far side of a shoulderload of supplies. "Starting a taxi fleet with a sunspot motif?"

Cassian's been pretty sparse since their night on the town, though as reunions go, this isn't without a touch of penance for that.

Han's just glad to actually see Cassian again, because their night on the town went—really badly. He hasn't brought it up, because it doesn't exactly seem like something he can just talk to someone about even on a private channel, and because he's had a lot more on his plate, lately.

He shifts his load a little so he can get a better look at Cassian.

"Nope," he says. "I like just having the one taxi." Plus it's already obnoxiously yellow, so. "No, this is for my house."

"Of course." Cassian cranes back his head to give Han a smile-crinkled look. "Any reason?"

He coughs. "Well, there was a kid who came over one time," he says. "Took a nap in a tree 'cause he mistook my house for his own, so I figured—hell, why not make it a little different from the rest?"

As promised, as soon as Friday comes around, Harry is back under Han's tree, looking up at the house with what he hopes seems to be a critical eye. He's never painted anything before, the Dursleys hadn't redecorated much, and he's got a few spells that might help, but most of this is going to be purely effort. A lot of effort. This is a big house, and he can't see anyone else turning up to help out.

But he's ready, managed to scrounge up a ripped pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt and everything.

"Hi. ...wow, they're going to see your house from space, I think."

Edited (nah prose) 2017-07-16 04:19 (UTC)

"That's the point." Sort of. "Or—look, the point is to make it stand out." This is all your idea, kiddo, Han's just taking it and running with it as far as he can go. Pretty damn far, as it turns out, because he's already set up some ladders for Harry to climb. They're sturdy enough to take the weight of a fifteen-year-old boy, and Han should know, he'd checked.

"All right, we'll work near the ground first, then start painting higher up." And here Han pushes a paint roller into Harry's hand.

"I think it's going to stand out in about five minutes." It already stands out, just from how vivid the paint colors are in their trays. But he takes the roller with enthusiasm, then hears Hermione's voice in his head. He hasn't got any cleaning spells that still work, none he can think of anyway. For once, maybe it's better to be prepared.

Harry sets the roller down again, pulls off his glasses and casts Impervius on them, puts them back on, then picks up the roller and approaches the house with glee. This is going to be bloody brilliant, and he won't need to clean paint flecks off his glasses by hand after he's finished either.

Han passes a good few minutes just painting the house, humming some half-remembered tune from about three years ago as he goes.

Then he looks over at Harry and says, "Hey, so about that broom thing—could you make anything else fly? Or is it just, what, a broom made specifically for flying?"

Harry, typically, already has Day-Glo orange paint in his hair somehow, despite barely getting started, but it's probably a measure of his enthusiasm for the job and his enjoyment. Even the heat of the day doesn't feel so bad when he's doing something like this.

"Yeah, there's lots of types of brooms for flying. I had a Nimbus 2000, that was my first broom, but I've got a Firebolt now," he says as he rolls paint over the white side of the house, making sure not to leave any bits untouched. "It's the fastest broom in the world, I think maybe it still is. But there's, like, Cleansweeps and stuff, and some bigger types of brooms that more than one person can ride on. Dunno if you could make just anything fly though, I don't really know how they're made. You'd love it though, they can go really fast, I'd pit my Firebolt against a landspeeder if I had it here with me."

Han hadn't mentioned landspeeders yet, but in his enthusiasm, Harry forgets about that part, and the "try not to let on when you know someone's life is a story in your world" part.

Nimbus 2000, Firebolt, Cleansweeps. Those fly over Han's head, just as surely as Han's talk of space travel and Kessel Runs and asteroid fields probably flies over most people's heads, and he's hit with the sinking feeling that this is what it feels like, to not have the context for something that someone else sees as completely normal. Those words make sense individually, but strung together the way Harry does, they sound nonsensical.

...wow, this probably is what other people feel like when Han goes off on a tangent, huh.

"Yeah, but it can't go any faster than the Falcon." Because, look, Han's got to uphold his ship's honor here. "If it and your flying stick were here, I guarantee you, the Falcon would outdo your broom every time." Obviously, Han.

Then it sinks in.

"How do you know what a landspeeder is?" Sorry, Harry, Han already knows his life is a story in somebody else's world, and frankly it's Annoying. This is evidenced by the next sentence out of his mouth: "This is something from Goldfinch's movies, isn't it."

"Well yeah, obviously, nothing can go faster than the Falcon." Obviously. "It's just a broomstick, it's not even meant to go into space."

Harry is drawing breath to explain, and to start talking about Quidditch (always hard on the heels of any explanation of broomsticks) but he falls silent. Oops. He'd been telling himself not to do that and he's just done it without thinking. But then the name catches his attention and he turns around, frowning. "Emily, you mean? You met Emily Goldfinch too?"

He reaches up to wipe his sweaty forehead, leaving a paint streak. "Sorry. Er, yeah, it is. But I'm one too. A story, I mean. In other people's worlds. She told me. There's movies and books."

Han is preening now. Hell yeah, his ship is the best. He will defend her until the day he dies.

"We talked over the network and she called me," give him a moment, his brow furrows as if he's trying to recall what Goldfinch mentioned, "Harrison Ford? Don't really know who that is." The sheer irony of a guy who looks just like a young Harrison Ford saying this goes completely unnoticed by Han.

He does wince in sympathy, because that's an existential crisis just waiting to happen. "Lucky you, I just have eight movies," he says, sardonic. No one has yet told Han about the two universes' worth of supplemental material. Or the actual structure of the movies. Or the encyclopedias. "You know, generally after somebody tells me I'm not real I get myself a drink. You want one?"

[like blue, archie still uses his crobat to fly around the city. why not? hm fly is legit.

fortunately, he's not too high above the ground when they-- or rather, crobat sees the house. it shrieks, diving down to try and attack this bright menace! archie yells in alarm - usually, crobat wouldn't do something like this. he's been getting lax with it - and slips off, hitting han's lawn with a thud and plenty of swearing. all the while crobat is losing its mind and hitting the walls with its wings.

hello.]

[Of all the things Han expected to find on his lawn today, a guy literally falling out of the sky just as Han's coming out wearing this and drinking some water is not one of them.

He looks at Archie for a moment. Then looks at the bat with four wings hitting the wall and screeching at high volume. Then back at Archie again.]

That thing yours?

[hot]

Yes, [archie replies, still laying on the grass. he wonders if he should get up or just let his soul leave his body right here, right now.] I don't think he likes the colours...

I'm not painting it for him.

[He's doing this to fuck with people, actually.]

Tell him to back off before he breaks something. [He's actually mildly concerned about that four-winged bat right now, mostly because repeatedly crashing into a wall is not good for their health, surely.]

Crobat seems to think everythin's for him nowadays.

[because you've spoilt him since you arrived, archie.]

C'mon now, Cro! Stop being a dumbass! [he calls out. fortunately, the bat is entirely fine. it's the house-- crobat's wings might've scraped some of the paint off the wood. it chitters angrily, then glides back down to archie.] --No! Ya ain't gettin' a pat, ya stupid bastard! You're smart enough ta know that was bad!

I wonder why.

[There's something in Han's tone and in how his eyes flick briefly to Archie that implies that he can probably guess. Then Crobat glides back over and Han groans, drops his face into a hand.]

Great. Now I'm gonna have to repaint that bit. [Ugh, stupid four-winged bats.] Can't you keep that thing on a leash?

Ehh...

[he flushes red.]

Sorry, bro. [and returns crobat, glaring at it.] I can pay for the damage an' help ya repaint it...

[He shakes his head.]

Keep the money. [A pause.] Don't tell anybody I said that. [Han sighs, then runs a hand through his hair.] But yeah, I could sure use help with repainting that.

[he snorts. oh, han.]

You got it, bro. Sorry again. I'll make sure Crobat stays away from this street. I really don't know what got into it... maybe the sun caught it's eyes or somethin'.

[ Luke was heading out the door, nursing a cup of coffee as he went to see if the morning paper arrived yet, when he had to stop dead, squinting at the house next door. Han's house, which... currently looked like a neon rainbow had vomited on it. The colors were so offending that he couldn't even look at it properly, and... well, there was only one person that could do this and think it was a good idea. ]

Han...

[ He wasn't awake enough for this. ]

[In Han's defense, he got the idea off some kid who hijacked the tree out front for some shade. So, you know, blame Harry Potter.]

Hey, Luke! [Where's Han right now? He's working on the walls higher up now, with a paint roller in his hand.] Whaddaya think?

[He is absolutely trolling Luke right now. Also, the rest of the neighborhood, and his housemates, who may probably kill him for this, but it would be worth it.]

I would tell you, but I can't look at it long enough to form an opinion.

[ There is just so much bitter in his voice, it's like the Dark Side set up a tent in his throat and camped there forever. ]

Do I even want to know why you thought this was a good idea?

[ Also, weren't their houses technically government property?! ]

[Should he feel bad? Probably. But, nah, Han doesn't really feel that bad about the color scheme.]

One of the neighbors said the houses looked the same, and I figured, why not make mine stand out? [Yeah, now it's going to be a pain to look at.] Makes it easier to find it.

[Han, one of your superpowers kinda renders that redundant.]

It... you...

[ This is it. This is what makes him turn to the Dark Side. This right here. ]

You are a human navicomputer, Han!

I already know that, don't shout.

[Which means he is absolutely just painting his house this eye-bleeding color scheme just to fuck with people.]

[ Luke looked like he wanted to scream, instead pressing his hands to his face and walking away... ]

[ ...but he didn't seem to stay away for very long? Before Han had a chance to turn back to his hideous work, Luke's voice came from the opposite side he had walked off from, almost like he had just looped around the house for the hell of it. ]

Do you need help, Han?

[ ...wow, his attitude changed quick. ]

Changed your mind, huh, kid?

[But, yeah, he absolutely needs help. He waves a hand at one of the paint trays, filled with a neon green paint that would be a pain to have to wash out of his hair and clothes.]

Just paint over the front door. [He gestures to the front door, already turning back to start painting the wall.]

Sure, Han.

[ Oh, it would be a pain, hunh? It would be a shame if something actually... happened. A mischievous grin appeared on Luke's face as he reached out with a hand, grasping the neon green paint tray with the Force. It hovered up, up behind Han... and then turned over on his head. ]

[ Luke was already bolting back behind the house once the deed was done, stifling back laughter as he went. ]

[Han's peacefully rolling orange point onto the wall when someone overturns a tray just above his head, so not only does is there neon green paint on Han, there is now also splashes of neon green on the walls as well, as if the house needed to be even more of an eyesore.]

Luke! [Han whips around. Where in the hell is Luke Skywalker?] You sneaky little nerf herder—

[ Luke came back around from the front at Han's shout, stopping short as he caught sight of Han... looking a little green. He bit his lip, the fact that he was a little concerned drowned out by the fact that he was struggling not to laugh. ]

Han? Are you okay?

Am I—

[He sputters. Lets out a savage curse in Bocce that we're just not going to type here.]

No! You dumped paint on me!

[ Instead of owning up to it, Luke leaned back, giving Han a confused look. ]

No I didn't; I was in front of the house...

[ ...has Han finally been land-locked for too long? That was definitely what it seemed like if he was dumping paint on himself and blaming Luke. ]

I'll... try to find something to wash you off with.

But you were right here—

[He stops, mutters something dark under his breath as he pushes his hair back from his face so he can better see without, you know, neon green paint getting near his eyes.]

Yeah, go ahead. [But he will be watching you, Luke. At least up until he's out of sight.]

[ As soon as Luke was out of sight, a blast of water followed by innocent, Luke-sounding giggling hit Han full in the back of his head, getting literally everything wet, from Han to the house, to whatever wet paint was still lingering around and getting completely waterlogged. How he managed to get the water to shoot out that much from the hose was anyone's guess, but the Force was probably involved. ]

[Cosima's on her way to her favorite coffee shop in Heropa (yes, she's found a favorite coffee shop in every city) when the very bright house that wasn't very bright just a few days before catches her attention. She stops in her tracks, scanning the scene with a grin. She waves at Han when she spots him, giving him a thumbs up for his handiwork.]

Wow. This is an impressive commitment to your aesthetic.

Thanks. Wasn't my idea, though.

[He squints at her for a second. The voice is familiar, certainly, he's pretty sure he heard her over the network before, but the face is—well, her face is also startlingly familiar. Casually, he says:] Hey, you know someone named Sarissa, by any chance?

[Cosima looks even more amused by this news, stopping her coffee mission in favor of learning more about what inspired the home renovations. She makes her way up the front walk, moving closer to the freshly painted house.]

No? Whose idea was it?

[Cosima's used to being recognized first as one of her sisters by now, even if she always feels a bit like a socialization slacker when it happens.]

I'd hope I'd know my sister.

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must i paint you a picture

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2 literally falls out the sky into this prompt

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2!

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