Disclaimer: Apologies to both George Lucas and Joe Diffie, but there are just some ideas of which my poor brain won't let go.
Rated: PG, for possible innuendo.
A/N: Loosely inspired by Pick-Up Man, a Joe Diffie tune. Set shortly after A New Hope.
Rose-Colored Glasses
You came in that thing? You're braver than I thought.
--Princess Leia, Star Wars: A New Hope
Han Solo would have found elements of the Rebellion almost comical, if it weren't for the growing list of names read at the end of each day, ten or twenty more brave (or foolish) souls who had gone on to better places, greener pastures, or simply evaporated into space. Depending on one's thinking.
The humor came in little moments, though, sneaking up on them all when they were weariest, when they'd all wanted to curl up and die. Luke had slipped and gone ass-over-tea-kettle down the ladder from his X-Wing; Chewie had hit his head on the entrance to a meeting room. Leia had overheard a Bothan joke and snorted café out her nose.
What was most amusing, however, was that the Rebels managed to create a bar in every hideout, no matter how little space was allotted. He had seen generals sleep three to a bunk for the guarantee that they could get Corellian ale at 0300 if they wanted it.
Upon further review, it really didn't surprise him.
Han and Chewie sat at one of those bars now, the former three-ales deep, while the other sipped on his first. It was hard to tell, but passers-by were fairly certain the Wookiee had an eyebrow raised at his irate friend.
"So what if she's a piece of garbage?" Han said, voice carrying across the sparsely-populated area. "Plenty of women have given a lot to see the inside of her!"
Chewbacca grumbled something, and chuckled.
"Oh, c'mon Chewie! Remember that first run we did? We landed in that crowded space port, and immediately those two Twi'leks were all over us, begging to get a look…" Han's words slurred and his voice trailed off.
Chewbacca reminded him that the two women were prostitutes trying to escape the local constabulary.
Han frowned. "Well, what about that time at the casino? Remember how you had to keep me from going off to the wedding chapel? That one loved my ship!"
Chewbacca pointed out that Han had nearly married a man, and only local planetary laws had made the ceremony null and void.
Han coughed, looking around to see how many people had understood his hairy friend. Determining that only the bartender and the wait-droid could possibly have heard, let alone translated, the smuggler relaxed.
"Okay, fine." Han stared into his quickly-disappearing drink. A cock-sure grin spread across his face. "You can't deny me the red-head on Coruscant! We had to sneak away in the middle of the night while she was buying groceries. Remember how she just loved to run her hands over the…" Han felt his face flush. "Never mind, that was something else."
The Wookiee sat silent for a moment before letting out a long string of guttural noises, pitching up at the end.
"I am not selling her back to Lando, no matter how much he wants for her! That ship has seen me through some tough times…and some tougher women. I won't abandon her because of one lousy princess!"
"This lousy princess?"
Han turned around to see Leia Organa, dressed in her usual white, standing behind him, head cocked to the side and hands on her hips.
Chewie let out another chuckle.
"Uh…Your worshipfulness, I was just saying…"
Leia put up a hand in dismissal. "Say no more, fly boy. The General wants to see you. Apparently he thinks more highly of the Falcon than I do." She looked at the table, then at the two friends. "You might want to sober up first, though. He won't let you fly drunk."
Han leaned back into his chair, hand to his heart. "I've done some of my best flying while drunk!"
"That's what we're afraid of." Leia turned to leave but changed her mind for a moment. "Luke says it's the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy. I hope he's right; we're going to need it."