“Because it’s free?” Matt responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if they hadn’t already had this conversation a million times, back when she actually liked that the Falcon was in the middle of nowhere. Not Lydia’s best opener, all told, which only piqued Matt’s curiosity about the reason for her visit even further. If she started in on him with something that weak, did that mean she actually… wanted something from him?
Clocking Lydia from over his boots, Matt’s eyes narrowed.
Watching Lydia without looking like he was watching her was a skill Matt perfected long before they ever dated. It made sense back then, when the idea that she might reciprocate the feelings Han still felt for Leia and Matt was beginning to feel for Lydia was at once the most exciting and terrifying thing that had ever happened to him, but of course he couldn’t show it. Because, even when he was falling for her, there was also that idea that letting her get wrapped up in his bullshit – again, for Leia – would only end badly. Funny how that instinct turned out to be right.
Still, it was no wonder he was falling back on old behaviors from the early days. Pretending it didn’t bother him that she was here, pretending to care more about the part in his hand than the woman in front of him as she set foot in a space he thought she’d never cross again – that was the Solo/Silva way, pretending that there was a firm divide between what he wanted and what he didn’t deserve. It wasn’t perfect, but it got him through that chunk of time before Lydia had almost been killed, and the thought of her dying without knowing that all of his crap was just an act had finally broken him. As long she didn’t almost die again (admittedly not an easy task for an Evans), keeping up the same old act could get him through this awkward post-break-up/post-closet kiss period, too. Probably.
Anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting? That’s twisted, even for me.
Matt’s cool briefly cracked at Han’s little aside, thankfully at the same time Lydia started to remove her jacket. More and more these days he could never tell whose side Han was actually on, Team Make-Up-With-Lydia or Team Keep-Hiding-in-the-Desert-Like-a-Moof-Milker, and the witty cynicism didn't help. Hiding his irritation, he pushed off the console and swiveled the chair to face her, though he still leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. As an afterthought he tossed the part onto a nearby shelf, scratched his face, and shrugged. “Been a while since I was home for Christmas. Guess I’m a little out of practice.”
That was a fault he didn’t mind admitting to, and which she knew perfectly well. Holidays and calendars didn’t work the same way from him as they did for most people. The missions Camelot gave him and Gabe rarely gave a shit about the most wonderful time of the year, and more often than not they missed out on the celebrations. And unlike Gabe, Matt didn’t have the kind of family where missing Christmas dinner year after year meant very much. His parents and his sister were too busy doing their own things, and they all counted themselves lucky if they managed a phone call sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.
He’d made more of an effort to get into the holiday spirit, though, when he and Lydia were together. Mainly in the form of mistletoe around the Falcon, but still. That counted, right?
Crossing his arms over his chest, Matt send Lydia a surprisingly even look, considering the turmoil he was trying very hard to keep under wraps. “You really came all the way out here to insult my precious Christmas cactus?”