Prompted by #60 - "Why don't they just kiss already?" and Han-Leia Appreciation Week Day 2 - Favorite Scene. The Han-as-a-butch-lesbian AU you either always have been waiting for or else didn't know you needed. Just a wee bit trashy. Crosspost from Tumblr.
Not Nice Men
"Would you please stop calling me that!" Oh she loathed how her voice sounded saying those words – all righteous and tight and particular, all why're-ya-so-uptight-princess, all Ice Bitch, all can't-take-a-joke and what-crawled-up-her-ass. It wasn't her fault, she didn't used to snap like this, it was all – it was you, she thought frustratedly, cheeks burning, your insufferable-ness has made me insufferable!
And then that voice, all smooth ease, all taking-my-time and surefooted smugness. "Sure, Leia."
Gods, how her name sounded in that mouth– like the handsome woman was savoring it, letting it linger on the tip of those bright white teeth, the tip of that that – Leia flushed again, willing herself not to notice but how could she not notice – that – yes, she shivered – tongue–– "Oh, you make it so difficult sometimes."
So difficult – strolling through the halls of every base with that smirking swagger, peeling off her snow goggles to reveal a face flushed with work and wind and shaking out that cropped copper hair, raking long fingers through it with slow, confident movements, the way the tight bloodstripes hung low on her lips just so… how her ever-present blaster flashed like a cheeky grin on her hip, like a wink just for her… Dammit, this was getting out of control.
Totally out of control. Oh, sure, she knew what everyone said – damn, only two broads on the whole base and of course they've got eyes only for each other, why don't they just kiss already – but first of all she wasn't going to put on some fetishized sapphic show for hungry heterosexual male eyes and second of all Leiajustwasn't that way, anyway – surely it was that Leia wanted to be Hana Solo, to be that cocksure and walk that easy, surely it couldn't be that Leia wantedher…
Hana was smiling, genuine and golden and leaning back against the bulkhead all calm and cool. "I do, I really do," she allowed, eyes dancing. "You could be a little nicer, though."
Leia wrinkled her nose – nicer, ugh – men were always telling her that, be nicer, be gentler, be more accommodating, like they were threatened by everything that could reveal a woman to be a strong – but Hana wasn't a man, she was…
"Come on, admit it," Hana was continuing, watching the flash and flood of emotions cycling through Leia's face. "Sometimes you think I'm all right."
"Occasionally…" Leia murmured. She blushed pink and turned away, rubbing her aching hand – delicate and nimble, fingernails filed neat, flushing again at another memory – my nails are so unkempt, I feel so unlike myself when I feel sloppy and Hana's you keep 'em short too? Here, I've got clippers and then that wink before slipping into her bunk – her bunk! – to retrieve them, Luke choking on his laughter, you keep 'em short too – "…when you aren't acting like a scoundrel."
Hana laughed, a full, genuine, delighted sound, a sound like she'd never learned to restrict herself to a coy giggle, like she'd never had a mother admonish not so loud, Leia, you must always laugh like a lady. "Scoundrel? Scoundrel? I like the sound of that."
And then before she could move her hand was in Hana's, the older woman's long, calloused fingers massaging out the cramp – so gently, so expertly, so––
"Stop that…" Leia murmured.
"Stop what?"
Everything. Everything! Stop making me feel this way, feel a flush of heat every time you look at me, feel dizzy and angry and thrilled and confused each time we spar, feel like there might be infinite ways of being a woman when all I've ever known is this cloistered, dignified, tiara-clad one… How could Hana's hands possibly be so rough and yet so soft all at once––
"Stop that," Leia insisted, the words tumbling out of her mouth in an anxious rush. "My – my hands are dirty."
"My hands are dirty too." Looking right at her, now, her chin dipped so to meet the younger woman's gaze, her head cocked contemplatively. Looking right at her, not bothering to sneak glances or pretend to be otherwise occupied, letting Leia see herself being seen. Seen straight through. "What are you afraid of?"
Leia felt her voice escape her lips in a soft hush. You know exactly what I'm afraid of. "Afraid?"
That hand again, taking hers, brushing one curious finger over her palm, the back of her hand, each fingernail, like she was headed into some uncharted place but would take her time in the discovery, like for Leia she had all the time in the world… that voice so confident but gentle, sturdy but soft, murmuring, real considerate concern behind the small smile, "You're trembling…" Amused, hushed, kind… this towering, taut bundle of compelling contradictions…
She was whispering now, too. "I'm not trembling."
Hana's voice itself felt something like that careful but playful smile, the one flashed to Leia across the room during interminable meetings or over Luke's head when he was being absurd, the private one, the one Leia knew – hoped – no, knew was just for her. "You like me because I'm a scoundrel," Hana murmured to Leia, their faces impossibly close–– "There aren't enough scoundrels in your life." Too close – too close, she wasn't that way, only two broads on the whole base and of course they've got eyes only for each other – could everyone see it? everyone but her? – she wasn't––
Leia titled up her chin, turning away. "I happen to like nice men," she announced, the hint of emphasis on the last word intending to be damning but sounding like so much a lie, even she could hear it…
Nice men, nice men. What had nice men ever gotten her her? It's so cute that you're so passionate about politics, you look adorable when you get riled up like that, you really ought to smile more. Crisp grins and combed hair promising I'll be the one to tame you, to make you into a natural woman. Behind closed doors saying they couldn't wait to get their fists in all that hair of hers, promising I'll be the one to melt that bitch – not a departure, really, from those words of you shouldn't be so uptight, you shouldn't be so loud, the crass ones just speaking the subtext of the polite admonishments. I'll fix you, I'll tame you, I'll make you sweet. Hana called her sweetheart but Hana never wanted to make her any other way, Hana liked her fiery, Hana never wanted to make her sweet…
"I'm not nice men?" Her voice low, husky voice wryly ironic, teasing, her eyes dancing and thrilled.
"No, you're not," Leia admitted faintly. She spoke more to herself than to the tall, gleaming woman before her, her voice not an assertion but a realization, a belated epiphany, a truth she somehow felt she'd known her entire life. "You're not, you're––"
A woman, Leia thought desperately, surrendering herself to this bright, clear truth, and then Hana's lips were on hers and they felt exactly like she'd dreamed they'd feel: firm but soft, insistent but gentle, and so, so loving and so, so warm. A woman, a woman, a woman.
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Bless you, thoughtful commenters; bless you, fellow Star Wars lesbians.