Thread by @crossing_winter

I wasn't planning on turning this into a twitter fic but here we go kids strap in gotta write something short and cracky to cope with What My Ship Says About Me i guess

https://twitter.com/crossing_winter/status/1169604599034064901

There are many things that Breha Solo can put up with.

Failing math for example. It's hard, and she's failed it four times and is already planning to take her Quantitative Reasoning Credit in the Philosophy Department (bless First Order Logic. Bless it.)

Splitting up with her ex-girlfriend--that had been hard. Really hard. But people grow apart, and college is when you're supposed to be discovering yourself, right? She can put up with that.

Even her little brother Han making fart jokes all the time like he's still twelve.

She can put up with a lot. She can, will, has put up with so very much. That's what burgeoning adulthood is, she's led to believe. She's not ready for it, but by god, she'll do what she can.

"I got some new lube, that cheap stuff from Amazon just is weirdly sticky," coming out out of her grandmother's mouth, and her grandfather nodding, his big brown eyes going boyish and hot and being magnified behind his oversized glasses

She knows--she knows--that grandma thinks she's whispering. She knows this.

The problem is that neither Grandma Rey's nor Grandpa Ben's hearing aids allow for whispering anymore. They've lost the capacity to talk quietly.

Sometimes it's funny.

It's not funny right now.

"You're the one who keeps getting the cheap stuff off Amazon," Grandpa Ben replies, running his knuckles along Grandma Rey's arm. It would be sweet if they weren't talking about lube. "You're not homeless anymore. You don't have to pinch pennies."

"It was a bargain with that new vibrator," she says and Breha wants to melt through the floor.

"Which vibrator?"

"The one with the bigger grip and dials. The good one."

"Oh right. The good one." Grandpa Ben nods, clearly agreeing with Grandma Rey's assessment of her vibrators.

"I like that one," he adds after a moment. "It seems to work well."

"It does," Grandma Rey agrees. "I'm charging it now. I want it to last as long as you do."

Breha looks across the table at her mother, who is deep in conversation with Han about college admissions.

"No, sweetheart," Mom is saying, "We won't be disappointed if you don't get in. You know that." She is not paying any attention to her parents, which is why she probably isn't hearing Grandpa Ben's not-murmur of,

"I just picked up my new prescription. Four Hour Ben is back."

"Better than seventeen second Ben," Grandma Rey replies.

"That was one time."

"It was at least the first six times," Rey replies lovingly, resting her hand on his leg under the table. "But I didn't care. I just like making you squawk."

"I'll give you squawking," Grandpa replies, his voice simmering with the sort of promise that Breha will probably need months of therapy to recover from.

"Is that a threat, Mr. Solo?" Grandma positively purrs.

"It's a promise, Mrs. Solo."

"Dinner's been lovely, dear," Grandma Rey calls down the table, interrupting mom and Han's conversation. "But I think it's bedtime for us."

Breha knows that bedtime for her grandparents is early. They tend to eat and then retreat and watch hours of television together.

She hates that she knows that that's not what they're doing tonight.

Slowly, they get to their feet. Grandpa helps Grandma with her walker, and the two move slowly--not as slowly as usual--out of the dining room and towards their bedroom on the first floor.

"It really doesn't matter what college you end up at, Han," Breha tells her brother, doing her best to bleach her brain of the conversation she'd just heard. "Seriously. It's what you make of it that matters, and you're going to do what you do anywhere you go."

"Yeah, but I'd be the first in our family not to go to--" Han begins and Breha really doesn't want to hear the delighted, "Oh Ben, I've missed this," that Breha hears drifting loudly through the house, coupled with her Grandfather's groan of pleasure.

"Mom, can we go upstairs or something? Or on the porch?" Breha asks and her mother's face twitches in a way that implies battlescars when she hears Grandpa groan, "More, Rey. God, I can never get enough of you."

"Let's clean up the table first," she says.

"Mom," Breha whines.

"Look, they're going for four hours and if we do this now we can beeline upstairs when hopefully we won't have to hear the real dirty talk. Move, soldier," her mother commands.

THAT'S IT THAT'S AS FAR AS IT'S GONNA GO

A SHORT ONE (UNLIKE 1) BEN'S DICK AND 2) THIS FOUR-HOUR SEXCAPADE)