Author's notes: For those of you keeping track, this is my second annual fun and fluffy fic to celebrate my wedding anniversary; you have been warned. I confess that I preferthe EU's - or I guess it's Legends now - version of Han & Leia's future after the OT, rather than the story told in TFA, and for the most part I'm going to stick with that. However, I have borrowed, with permission, the basic premise, and some of the characters from StatsGrandma57's series of stories concerning Ben Solo. If you haven't read them, you might want to take a look..
Quick as a Flash
"Okay, cut in the sublights."
Leia reached over with a practiced hand and threw the switches to bring the Millennium Falcon's sublight engines online while Han pulled on the throttles to disengage the hyperdrive. She watched expectantly as the mottling of hyperspace morphed to incandescent streaks and finally solidified into stars.
"All right, Flyboy," she said. "Let's see what this big surprise is you have planned for—"
Leia stopped, mid-word, as she gaped out the cockpit canopy, blinking at the blinding light of the twin stars that washed out the blackness of space in front of them. "Tatooine," she managed to choke out, even as she worked to pull up the screens that would filter out at least some of the binary star's brightness, allowing Han to see clearly enough to pilot the ship. She turned to stare at her husband in disbelief. "You thought Tatooine would be the perfect place to spend our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary?" she asked him.
Han Solo risked a glance away from the heavy traffic orbiting the large yellow ball that was the planet Tatooine. He smiled crookedly at his wife, at once both ingratiating and a little sheepish. "I wanted to go someplace that would take us back to the beginning," he explained, as he turned his attention back to the approach and landing process. "You know, our roots. We might rekindle some memories."
The look Leia shot her husband would have quelled a man less inured to the princess's sharp temper—and sharper tongue—than Han Solo. But they had been married for twenty-five years; he'd grown accustomed to riding out the storms—sometimes he enjoyed them.
"You thought—," Leia began tartly, then stopped. She took a moment to martial her resources. "Memories," the princess began again, her voice dangerously calm. "Like Jabba the Hutt, hibernation sickness, sarlacc pits, sandstorms, Tusken raiders? Those kinds of memories?"
"Hey, I met the kid and the old man here. If I hadn't taken them on as passengers you'd never have had the chance to meet me," Han forged ahead. "And you gotta admit, we had a pretty good time here in the Falcon after you and your brother cooked Jabba's sketto for him."
Leia remained dumb, staring at her smirking husband in disbelief. She recalled that arduous trip back the Millennium Falcon after they had destroyed Jabba the Hutt and his crew; leading her stumbling, half-blind love through a sandstorm—and wearing only a sand cloak over that demeaning slave costume—to the relative safety of the freighter.
"Yes, indeed," Leia agreed with an acid smile. "It was great. After I got the sand out of every pore and crevice of my body."
"And wasn't it worth it?" Han smiled his best scoundrel's grin.
Their lovemaking that day, as the Falcon had rocketed back to the Rebel fleet, had been straight and to the point, Leia remembered, since Han had still been suffering from the aftereffects of six months trapped in carbonite. It had also been especially precious to them both, a reunion neither one had really believed was possible. Leia felt her ire start to slip away.
"I married a gundark," she told her husband.
"Yeah, but I'm a sexy gundark, aren't I?" Han asked, his eyes glinting.
Leia rolled her eyes and tried to keep her lips from twitching up into a smile. Her success was minimal, which only elicited another broad grin slanting across her husband's face. The princess returned her focus to her copiloting duties.
"So, where on this pestilent planet do you plan on our spending our anniversary?" Leia's eyes flicked from the traffic sensor plot between the two seats to the seemingly erratic traffic patterns in the skies above the planet. "We need to get our position in—if you can stomach the misnomer—the landing queue."
"It shouldn't be a problem," Han answered, banking the Falcon away from the randomly orbiting clumps of other spaceships. "Put in for a slot in Anchorhead."
"Anchorhead?" Leia didn't try to keep the horror out of her voice. What could Han expect to do in that tiny farm town?
"Anchorhead."
####
Leia pulled the hood of her sand cloak tightly around her face, grateful they weren't facing a sandstorm this visit, as she waited for Han to retrieve their bags from the ancient speeder they'd rented. After they'd docked and secured the Falcon in Anchorhead's poorly kept docking ring, the princess had to concede that she was pleased Han had installed new anti-tamper equipment on the ship, even after she'd chided him for its extravagance. Here in Anchorhead, a spacecraft as well known as the Millennium Falcon would tempt thieves. Of course, any ship here might attract thieves; it didn't seem like the criminal underworld had much to choose from.
The couple hurried past dust devils playing up the sand in the sunken courtyard, and into the reception area for the Sidi Driss Inn. They paused in the entrance way, shaking off their cloaks. Leia winced at the chittering sound of sand hitting the floor—parenting three children had made her appreciative of clean space—but a cleaning droid appeared almost immediately to suck up the debris. The lobby they stepped into was tidy and welcoming.
"Leia! Han!" A weathered, but attractive looking woman rushed from behind a computer console and threw her arms around the princess. "I'm so glad to see you again," she declared, stepping back to inspect the woman she still grasped by the arms.
"And it's wonderful to see you again, Dama," Leia returned the embrace. Dama's dusty brown-colored hair had gone to steely-gray in the years since Han and Leia had last been to the Inn, and the sand-blasted lines on her face had increased, but her smile was broad and welcoming.
"Look at you," Dama continued, the smile enhancing her austere desert beauty, even while it deepened the lines on her face. "Three children and you haven't changed a bit." Her sharp eyes danced with pleasure.
"Liar," Leia laughed companionably. Her own hair hadn't grayed yet, at least not so much that she couldn't hide it, but now she, too, wore age lines around her eyes and mouth.
She could feel a bit more of her irritation at Han's choice of vacation spot slipping away; Dama was almost family, after all. She was the younger sister of Luke's aunt Beru, and she'd helped Leia, Han, and Chewie out of a very bad situation the last, and only, time they'd been to the Inn.
"Captain Solo," Dama turned her attention to Han, reaching out her hand to him. "I've set up the suite just as you asked. I hope you'll find everything to your satisfaction."
Han reached for the extended hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled Dama close and planted a kiss firmly on one of her cheeks. The older woman's face grew pink, and Leia could hear her quick intake of breath.
Gods! Leia thought, a tight smile on her lips. Work it, why don't you, Flyboy? You haven't changed a bit. Han still delighted in making a lady blush, Leia knew, even after twenty-five years.
"I'm sure it'll be great," Han continued, squeezing Dama's hand before he released it. "Thanks for all your help."
With one last, glowing smile aimed at Han, Dama moved back to the console, and back to business. "The suite is in the luxury wing, so you shouldn't be disturbed during your stay, and the cleaning droids will only come if you summon them." Dama entered a few things onto a screen, and a pad embedded in the counter lighted with a faint orange glow. "If you would both just enter your palm prints here, you'll be able to get into the suite." First Han, then Leia, scanned their handprints, giving them sole access to their accommodations.
The business of registration complete, Dama kissed each of them on the cheek and demanded that they stop by for a visit before they left.
"Let me get someone to carry your bags to your room," she offered.
"I may be old and gray," Han responded, smoothing his silvering hair. "But I think I can still manage a couple of bags." His scoundrel's grin reappeared. "Besides, the sooner I get her Worship all to myself, the better."
####
"Gimme that!"
With laser fast reflexes, obviously not hampered by advancing years, Han snatched the datapad out of his wife's hands.
"Han!" Leia grabbed for the device, but using his height to his advantage, her husband held it just out of her reach. Her eyes shooting blaster bolts at Han—which he ignored—the princess fumed; she didn't want him to see what she'd been doing. It wasn't that the datapad contained secrets vital to the survival of the free galaxy; Han truly didn't care one credit about the machinations of the New Republic Senate. No, Leia didn't want him to see she was sending off a quick message to her sister-in-law, Eimear.
Leia understood she was being foolish, yet somehow the mother in her couldn't help it; she needed to check to make sure everything was going all right at home. Ever since her eldest child Ben had suffered from severe mental illness in his teens—requiring both in-patient care and months of treatment—Leia had become irrationally overprotective of all her children, even though Jana had adjusted quite well to her Force abilities, and Kira was a normal, Force-free, impossibly precocious ten-year-old. Ben had worked through his illness to become a strong, caring, and independent young man. Her children were fine; she knew that a few short days away was now reason to worry.
Intellectually, Leia understood she was overcompensating for the feelings of guilt she still felt about Ben's illness, and how much he'd suffered because of it. The princess grasped, at least in theory, that her son's disorder had to do with chemicals in his brain, and not the fact that his mother had been away from home, working on rebuilding a free government, much of the time he was growing up. However, she couldn't shake the feeling, inside her mother's heart, that somehow she had caused his problem. Luke's wife had been quietly supportive of her during that time, and the two women had become close friends.
Now, Eimear and Luke were in charge of watching Kira, who had inherited her father's—and her mother's, Leia thought with a wry smile—sometimes reckless sense of adventure, along with an unquenchable sense of curiosity and unbridled wanderlust. The wanderlust she got from her father. Also, growing up with two much older siblings, the youngest Solo child was mature beyond her years. Or so Kira thought. The princess didn't envy her brother and sister-in-law the task of keeping up with quick-witted, sharp-tongued Kira, along with their own young son. As long as they could keep the girl from trying to summon a speeder-taxi to get to the park—which Kira was perfectly capable of doing, Leia had warned her brother—or ordering too many new holobooks, they should be fine. If Leia could just check in with Eimear for a nanosecond…
"Sweetheart," Han said with tender understanding, "I'm sure everything is just fine." The datapad landed on a nearby table with a clatter as Han tossed it aside. He cupped Leia's face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss her on her forehead. Leia felt a familiar warmth in her chest; Han always knew just how to comfort her. She leaned against his broad chest and shut her eyes.
They immediately popped open again as the pad rattled against the table, indicating an incoming message. Han uttered an oath under his breath as he scooped up the device, then his mouth relaxed into a half-smile.
"See, what did I tell you?" he asked as he handed her the pad. "Nothing to worry about."
Leia, put the datapad down, the message read. Relax and enjoy your trip, everything is fine here. Eimear.
Leia breathed out a tiny, self-conscious laugh as she read Eimear's message, silently thanking her sister-in-law for her thoughtfulness. Replacing the datapad on the table, she tipped her head up so her mouth was near Han's chin.
"So, Flyboy?" she asked, tickling her lips against his face. "What now?"
Bending his face down to hers, Han left very little room for doubt as to what was next on his agenda.
####
Stretching languidly in the oversized tub—large enough to accommodate a Hutt with ease—Leia let her toes float to the surface as she gazed around the suite. Han certainly had done a wonderful job. Not only had he arranged for several bottles of Emera wine—her favorite—but he'd also managed to get a large box of dark chocolate. That alone must have cost a fair number of credits, but even more impressively, he'd contrived for sprays of flowers to decorate the bed chamber. Flowers on Tatooine were more precious than gold or platinum. Casting a sidelong glance at her husband, floating next to her with eyes closed, she didn't want to think about what this must be costing. He must have gotten both Chewie and Lando to help him with the arrangements. Gods! She hoped that none of these wonderful gifts had been stolen.
Of course they hadn't, she assured herself, Leia knew that Han didn't smuggle anymore. They'd probably just conned someone in order to get a ridiculously low price.
Leia felt her left eyelid begin to twitch at the thought. It might be better, she decided, if she didn't consider that possibility.
Besides, there were far more pleasurable things to think about. Shifting a little to one side, Leia ran a gentle hand along Han's collar bone, trailing a stream of warm, fragrant water off her hand as she moved up to trace the line of her husband's jaw. Without opening his eyes, Han nipped at her fingers.
"Hey, your Worship, I'm trying to rest here," he objected. "The night's still young," Han reminded her, a slow half-grin spreading across his features.
Leia's eyes flew automatically to the sky window above the tub. Sure enough, the first stars were twinkling in the deep purple of Tatooine's late evening sky. It still amazed her that Han always knew what time it was, and the local time at that. It must be due to all the years he'd spent in space. There were at least another nine hours left till the first of the twin suns breached the horizon, ushering in a new day. That left plenty of time for just the two of them; they might even sleep. After all, she wasn't twenty-five anymore; she needed her rest. And after this afternoon, she could use it.
The suite really was beautiful, though Leia wasn't sure how much of it was Han's idea, and how much of it was Dama's. After taking the time to unpack their belongings, she and Han had indulged in one bottle of the wine, and just enough of the chocolate to tease the taste receptors on her tongue. Then Han's tongue began to tease her, and the afternoon had proceeded quite pleasantly.
Twenty-five years and three children certainly hadn't dulled the ardor that Leia felt for Han Solo; in fact, the years had strengthened it. Instead of the desperate, burning need that had seemed impossible to fulfill in the early days of their relationship, her love for Han now was a part of her, every bit as necessary as her heart or lungs—more necessary, even—while heart and lungs could be replaced, Han could never be. Not that Leia regretted their first, passionate kisses, or the slow trip to Bespin, when they seemed to race against time to satisfy the desires the two lovers had denied feeling for one another for so long. The princess smiled and shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the side of the tub; memories causing the tingling feel of her desire to spread down her legs and up her midsection.
Or maybe it was Han's fingers moving deftly along her inner thigh, their destination obvious.
"Oh, you're awake," Leia opened her eyes and turned her head toward Han, giving him a sultry smile. "I guess you've recharged your batteries."
Water sloshed over the side of the tub as Han turned toward Leia, the hardness of him pressing against her thigh leaving no doubt in Leia's mind as to the condition of his power pack. Han lowered his face to hers, his mouth greedy and his tongue probing. Automatically, Leia threw her arms around his neck.
Scented bath water poured across the tile floor around the tub as Leia let go her grip on the tub and immediately went under water, Han still on top of her. The couple reemerged, laughing and coughing.
"Han," Leia sputtered as she grabbed for the side of the tub. "Unless you brought underwater breathers, this isn't going to work."
Shaking back his dripping hair, Han leaned against the side of the tub. "Right as always, your Worship," he agreed. With a strong hand on either side of her waist, Han lifted his wife to a seated position on the side of the tub, then hoisted himself out to sit next to her. Clambering to his feet, he offered his hand to Leia. He smiled his most roguish smile, hot and sweet with promise.
"Let's take this back to bed, where it belongs."
####
You could fit two people into one drying tube; Leia hadn't thought it was possible. Of course, they'd had to stand very close together, not that this was a hardship for either of them. They weren't quite dry when they made it back to the bed, but really, Leia thought wildly, what was the point? Lovemaking with the love of your life was a wonderful thing, but it was messy, as wonderful lovemaking should be. Nothing irritated her more than the sight of actors in holos, just replete from the throes of passionate—and artistic—intercourse, without a hair out of place, and their makeup perfect. It just wasn't natural.
Whoa, there, Leia thought, talk about distracting yourself!
Leia still delighted in the feel of Han's hands on her body, his teasing tongue and demanding mouth, the strength of his thighs, his hardness deep inside her… Leia's sigh was pure bliss. Resting her hand on Han's sweat-slicked shoulder, she levered herself onto her elbow and leaned in to kiss the corner of her husband's mouth; the love she felt for him so strong she couldn't keep it restrained. Smiling in response, Han pulled her close, brushing away the tangled mess of her hair so he could kiss the sweet spot he knew so well at the nape of her neck. With a contented sigh, Leia turned so Han could pull her close, and they both went to sleep.
Seconds later, or so it felt to her, Leia woke to Han pulling her even closer against him, muscles tensed. It wasn't foreplay this time, but another sensation she was all too familiar with, wariness.
"Han, what is it?"
"Shh!" he hissed at her.
Leia remained still, senses attuned to anything that might be amiss. The suite was still; though next to her, Han remained on alert.
"Han," she began again. "I don't think—"
"I heard something," he interrupted her. "A rustling. I think something's in here with us."
A cleaning droid? But no, Leia remembered Dama telling them the droids would come only if they were summoned. "Maybe you just dreamed it," she suggested instead. "This is Tatooine. It just sort of naturally makes you feel like something's after you."
Then there was a scratching sound from beyond the doorway in the sitting room, followed by a soft thud. There was no denying it, something was in the other room.
"Did you hear that?" Han asked her, his tone impatient. Quietly, he rolled off the bed, grabbing his blaster from its holster as he crouched down, moving with slow, measured steps toward the bedroom door. He looked over his shoulder when he felt Leia's presence next to him. He opened his mouth, ready to order her to stay back, then shut it again with a snap, obviously realizing it would be a fruitless command. His wife had shoved her tangled hair behind her ears, and now crouched alongside him, her small, hold-out blaster held expertly in her hand. A quick, hot smile crossed his features; Han had always thought his wife never looked sexier than when she was ready for a fight—the fact that she was currently naked only made her appear even more so.
Leia grinned in response, knowing, as always, what her husband was thinking, and secretly contemplating the fact that two naked humans were probably no match for whatever Tatooine had chosen to throw at them this time. Chances were it wasn't a Hutt, but other than that who knew: a womp rat, a baby krayt dragon, a stray bounty hunter?
Something small, and dark as a black hole, skittered out from behind a chair in the other room and took refuge behind their empty bags, which the couple had left by the suite's entrance way. So, not a krayt dragon or a bounty hunter. Han raised his blaster and sighted on their bags.
"I really hate to blast a perfectly good bag," Han muttered as he started to squeeze the trigger.
Something niggled at Leia's brain, a long ago image she couldn't quite place. Then—
"Han, no!" She darted forward, shoving down his blaster arm.
"Leia! What are you doing?" he snarled at her.
The black form flew out from behind the bags, aiming its small body at the gap underneath the suite's sofa. It might have made it if it hadn't lost traction in the bath water still covering the tiles next to the tub. It slid to halt by to a low table. Careful of her own footing, Leia walked over and retrieved their intruder.
"Han, take it easy," she scolded him as she scooped up the tiny creature. "It's a pitten; a baby pitten."
####
Han wore his trousers commando; Leia had wrapped a sheet around her naked form. They both sat on the sofa, looking at the tiny, black pitten that stared warily back at them with copper-colored eyes. It hadn't moved since Leia had set it down on the table it had nearly crashed into.
"How in the hells did a pitten get in here?" Han asked.
"I have no idea." Leia extended one finger toward the creature; it sniffed at it with the disdain only a pitten can summon. "It seems awfully young. I wonder if something got into its nest; maybe it's the only one that escaped a galoomp, or a krayt dragon." The princess inspected it, a sad look on her face. "It's really cute," she commented.
"I don't see any way it could have gotten in here." Han looked suspiciously at his wife. "You set this up, didn't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Leia answered, derision in her voice. "How could I? You made sure I didn't know where we were going."
Secretly, Leia wished she had thought of it, and had been able to pull it off. Ever since Spot, the Solo's first—and only—pitten had passed on at the very senior age of twenty, the family had been without a pet. Leia didn't count the fish, though Han kept insisting that they were enough. Han had brought Spot home on a whim, when that pitten had been no bigger than the one staring at them now, and somehow man and beast had become the unlikeliest of friends. Spot's death had left Han adamant that there would be no more pittens; he had told Leia privately that he couldn't bear the thought of losing another one, the old softy. He was determined, though, and no amount of cajoling from herself or the children could change his mind.
Leia mourned Spot, too. She found herself missing the furry little miscreant at the oddest moments, like when she was cooking dinner and she realized she didn't have to fight him for the nerf, or when she and Han were just about ready to consummate their passion, and they didn't need to stop and check to make sure they didn't accidently flatten the pitten in their enthusiasm. Now, an orphan pitten, she assumed it was orphan, had just appeared out of nowhere; it had to be a sign that this little creature was meant to be theirs. Luke always said the Force worked in mysterious ways; well, Leia could work with whatever came her way.
Han heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, the pitten watching every move he made. He headed toward the control panel by the door.
"You aren't just going to shove him out the door, are you?" Leia asked him, real panic in her voice.
"Of course not." Han was offended that she would even ask him the question. "I'm going to call Dama; tell her what we found," he explained. His eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. How do you know it's a he?" he asked her.
Leia scooped the little thing up into her hand. "I'm just guessing," she admitted. "I don't know, it just feels like a boy."
Ignoring Han's ribald comment about how well Leia knew what boys felt like, she walked over to her husband. "See," she said. "He has to be a boy." She flipped the pitten over, revealing a white splotch on its underside. "He has a fig leaf." Leia pointed to the position of the white spot.
Han snorted, in spite of himself. He ran a gentle finger between the pitten's ears as Leia checked its rear end.
"Definitely a boy," she announced from the tail of the pitten. She was delighted to see Han smile, though she was less so when he continued to the panel by the door, and punched the call button.
"Dama?" he said when she answered. "You don't know anyone who's lost a pitten, do you? We seem to have one in our room."
"I'm so sorry," Leia heard over the comm. "I'll be right there."
"At least put a shirt on, Han," Leia directed. Han's eyebrows rose at her cool tone, but he seemed unwillingly to yield.
While her husband went to locate a shirt, Leia sat with the small black furball, stroking two fingers down his back. He was different from Spot; sleeker and not as furry. That made sense, since this was a hot, desert world. To her horror, Leia discovered that her eyes were tearing up at the thought of giving up the pitten. She knew she missed having a pet, but this was ridiculous. She blinked furiously. Leia wanted to keep the little guy, but she didn't want Han to think she was being dramatic to manipulate him. She wasn't that kind of person.
Han returned, pulling a shirt over his head. He tossed Leia her robe as he sat down next to her on the sofa. "He is kinda cute," he conceded.
"He'd be a great way to teach Kira some responsibility," Leia answered hopefully. Han only shook his head.
"I think teaching Kira responsibility might be a lost cause," he answered her, with a fond paternal grin. Once again, Han reached over to pet the small pitten. "I just don't think it's the right time," he continued, almost wistfully. Leia's eyes narrowed in speculation; was Han weakening?
The pitten chose that moment to surprise them both. In one huge—relatively speaking—leap, he jumped from Leia's hands and clambered up Han's arm, pausing on his shoulder to rub his head against Han's ear. Leia watched hopefully as the look on Han's face softened. The pitten was now rubbing his face on the back of Han's head.
"You put him up to this, didn't you?" The accusation in Han's voice was negated by the look of happy resignation on his face.
Leia only raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
The door to the suite chimed. Leia quickly shrugged into her robe, then went to admit Dama, holding her breath and willing Han to change his mind. When the door opened, the held breath exploded from Leia in a startled whoosh. Dama walked in, a smile on her face and her eyes twinkling. In her hands was a small bowl of ground nerf. "I figured the little guy might be hungry." She looked enquiringly at Han, who now had the pitten over on its back and was tickling the white fig leaf. "So, what are you going to name him?" she asked as she put the bowl on the floor. The pitten righted himself and raced to the food bowl, diving face first into the nerf.
Leia continued to stare at Dama behind Han's back as he watched the pitten eat. She didn't understand how any of this had happened.
Dama smiled sympathetically at Leia's obvious confusion. 'Chewbacca,' she mouthed as she left the room.
####
Leia cut out the sublight engines as Han pushed the throttles forward to engage the hyperdrive. The Millennium Falcon leapt cooperatively to lightspeed. The small, black pitten seated on the control console watched the mosaic of hyperspace pass by him with huge, copper-colored eyes.
Reaching behind her seat, Leia pulled out the box that held the remains of the of dark chocolate-two pieces. She took one for herself, offering the last one to Han. He popped it into his mouth and stared thoughtfully at the pitten.
"What do you think Kira will name him?" he asked Leia.
Kira's mother's face scrunched up into something that could be described as pain. "Gods alone know," Leia said. "Knowing Kira, it's kind of a frightening thought."
"I think we should name him. That'll keep him from ending up with something too ridiculous. Or completely unpronounceable," Han added. "I do know Kira." He extended his arm toward the pitten, who immediately raced along it to perch comfortably on Han's shoulder. Han reached over to scratch its ears.
"You've already got a name picked out, don't you?" Leia set the now empty box on the seat behind her. The pitten eyed it curiously.
"Yeah, I do," Han admitted. He looked sidewways at the pitten. "I think his name should be Flash."
"Flash?"
"Yeah. You saw how fast he can move." Han smiled approvingly at Flash.
Flash chose that moment to make a move of his own. With a very impressive show of strength, the pitten bunched up his hind legs, wiggled his tail, and flew across the cockpit to land in the empty candy box.
"Kriff!" Han swore, rubbing his shoulder. "You need to watch those claws, little guy."
Leia laughed, and once again found herself overwhelmed with emotion for the Corellian smuggler who'd become the other half of her very existence. She rose, and turned his face toward hers with an insistent hand on his cheek.
"Happy anniversary, Han."
Their kiss was long and deep.