A/N: This just wouldn't get out of my head, so I had to write it (I'm blaming you, Laura). Set during the trip to Bespin. It was initially supposed to be light and fun but it ended up a little more serious than intended. Either way, I hope it's enjoyable-it's been sitting on my files since last week, so I can't stare at it any longer, haha. Thanks to Alexa and Laura for being awesome editors and helping me so much! You guys are the best. Any mistakes are totally mine.
Modifications
They are both panting when it happens. The words, low and quiet, perforate the heavy air inside the crew quarters of the Millennium Falcon. It's still floating amid the air when he realizes what he's just said, a moment later. It's still hanging over them when she realizes what she has just heard, two moments later. Their breaths are short and shallow and their hearts are still beating quickly. It should be a very memorable moment. They're lying side by side, on their backs. Leia still has her undershirt on. Han never took his socks off.
His fingers stand frozen in his hair. He's trying not to panic. Maybe it won't be a memorable moment at all. Maybe she didn't really hear him? It's not something that should be said lightly. Or, at least, it's not something he says lightly. He didn't mean it, not really. Actually, he didn't mean to say it. Because—well, he meant it.
Amid his internal chaos, he hears a laugh. More like—a giggle. Leia is giggling? Not exactly what he expected as a reply, but it'll do. Better than many alternatives. For once, he chooses to keep quiet. She turns her head towards him, her chest still heaving up and down. Her lips look red and a little swollen. Her braid stopped looking like a braid a while ago, he imagines.
"You're just saying that because we just—"
"No," he blurts out, not really meaning to sound so harsh. She quietens down instantly, but is still smiling, apparently in disbelief. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk that Corellian whisky after dinner. Judging by Leia's giggles—maybe she shouldn't have, either. His mind feels fuzzy and too honest for his own good. "No, I mean, yeah, we just, uh… but that's not—what I mean is, I'm not saying that just because we had sex."
There's a slight blush on her cheeks, but maybe it's because she's still recovering. Han takes a deep breath. This is still too new for them. Well, maybe it's been a long time coming, but the whole physical thing is just… too new. Barely a week in the making. So, very early. Too early. What was he thinking? He wasn't really thinking two minutes ago, was he? His brain still feels like it's on hyperspace. Which they most definitely aren't, since the hyperdrive isn't working.
Leia sighs, sitting up slowly, hands going to her hair. He watches, mesmerized, unable to move, as she slowly undoes the rest of her braid, her fingers running between locks of hair.
"If it's because of what happened on the dejarik table, I'm pretty sure that's considered a kind of sex as well," she says matter-of-factly, and his mouth feels a bit dry when he thinks of that. She turns her head and gives him a smirk, dark eyes glistening with mischief as the light control panels of the cabin bathes them. He might have lost his breath if he wasn't controlling it.
Han finds the will to move, finally, and runs the back of his fingers on her spine, up and down. Her skin is starting to feel cold again.
"Thanks for that, by the way," he says, watching as her attention is again on her own hair.
He should let this be. She doesn't seem focused on his words, anyway. He's sure it can easily be forgotten, but he wants to say more. Let her know that these aren't just meaningless words. He meant them. He still means them. He's known it for months, anyway.
"But that's not what I meant."
In the back of his mind, he knows he will later blame his slight intoxication, the effortless way with which Leia can look stunning under him, over him, or in front of him, and that her voice can actually be very low and very soft.
And she's not wrong, well, they just had sex. For the thirteenth time. But who's counting? Certainly not him.
Leia stops trying to fix her hair and looks at him—really looks at him. Her mouth opens slightly and he doesn't think her eyes have ever been so big. He doesn't think time has ever gone by so slowly.
"Oh," she mumbles.
Han's heart sinks in disappointment. That's not exactly what he was hoping for, if he's being completely honest. Part of him wants to ask her if she feels the same, and another part of him wants to get out of here and lock himself up in the cockpit for the rest of this trip.
He opts for not doing anything at all and what follows is an extremely loud silence. Maybe his ears are playing tricks on him, but he can almost hear the echo of his words floating above the bunk. He pulls his hand away from Leia's back and blinks up at the ceiling wearily. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her eyes looking down, fingers running through locks of her hair absentmindedly.
Silence has never bothered him so much. Awkward? A little. Uncomfortable? Very. Just because they are sleeping together doesn't mean his feelings are returned. Giving in to physical need may mean nothing in the end. Maybe in the past—hells, two weeks ago, even—he would have probed her to answer him, but things are different now, and for the first time—for the first time he's wondering if anything should have changed at all.
Movement attracts his attention and he turns his head to see Leia moving out of the bunk and putting an oversized shirt on – an old shirt of his, covering her down to her knees. Chewie is currently on his shift in the cockpit, and Leia knows that, so Han can only interpret this as some kind of distance from her.
"I have to use the refresher," she says when she notices he's staring. Her eyes seem nervous, and he hates this. "I'll be back in a few."
Han nods, watching as she walks from the bunk to the refresher on the right. He closes his eyes, not really feeling the customary drowsiness post-sex, and mentally curses at himself and all his ancestors, whoever they may be, for being so stupid when it comes to women—or just Leia. He hears the sonic running after a few moments, and knows that Leia will probably take a while to come out. All of sudden, he feels tired—tired of this trip, tired of the endless days fighting for something he isn't sure that can be conquered at all, tired of the uncertain future that lay ahead of him.
With a sigh, he stands up and puts on his pants, but decides not to bother with a shirt; he only means to check on Chewie and make sure everything's running smoothly in the cockpit. It's still only the beginning of the night cycle and despite the hyperdrive not working, no further problems of that same caliber have been discovered.
Almost ten minutes later, he enters the crew quarters again, and Leia jumps at the sound of the door opening. She relaxes when she sees him and he gives her a strained smile as he walks towards his own bunk; they're too narrow for them to share, most of the time, and they only ever sleep together when they're too tired to move afterwards—which is not today's case.
"One of the gun turrets seems to be malfunctioning," he said, only because he doesn't feel like standing in silence again. He takes off his pants and folds them. "Had to send Threepio down there to see what's wrong, but it's probably easy to fix."
"I'm sure Threepio will find what's wrong and three more malfunctioning items down there," Leia says jokingly and with a tentative smile. She's combing her hair.
Han arches his eyebrows and sits on his bunk. "Well, if they're fixable, I won't care if he finds ten malfunctioning items down there."
She laughs, turning her body towards him completely. She puts the comb on her bunk and doesn't seem inclined to braid her hair now, as she usually does before bed. "Yes, you do. With all the fixing that's been going on here, we won't have any of that done by the time we reach Bespin."
"I'll do my best, sweetheart," he said, lying down completely.
Before he can get comfortable, however, Leia walks towards his bunk and he watches, dumbfounded, as she sits.
"Scoot over, flyboy," she says, and Han moves until his arm touches the wall.
"It's gonna be a tight fit," he manages to say before she's lying down on her side, right next to him.
"Well, then, we're lucky I don't take up much room at all," she quips. He moves on his side as well, hoping she can be more comfortable, and meets no protest when he slides his arms around her waist, bringing her even closer.
He tries to relax; Leia feels soft in his embrace and her breathing feels steady. She snuggles close, and Han reaches over to massage her neck and soothingly runs his fingers through her long hair. She smells like soap, and of him, and the combination is heaven.
She moves slightly in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position, and he moves along, trying to adjust. Leia moves her head and hits her nose on his chin, and Han hits his elbow hard against the wall. He swears and Leia is still scrunching up her nose when he looks at her again.
"You okay?" he asks, and Leia lets out a laugh.
"I'm fine. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he says, shaking his head as he flexes his arm twice. He risks a glance in Leia's direction, and her gaze is serious, fixed on him. "Bet you're missing your Alliance bed," he says.
"I almost do. Almost," she adds, then looks around. "I've often wondered why you didn't have your own quarters."
"Ah, it was always just me an' Chewie," he answers easily. "It's not like we carried people around often. At least not until we met the kid. But I like the idea of the captain having his own cabin. Chewie sure wouldn't mind."
"You said he wasn't bothered with us," Leia says immediately, and Han almost cringes – Chewie isn't exactly bothered with them, but he's definitely noticed them; it's a good thing Leia doesn't know that much of Shyriiwook – yet.
"He isn't, but it's more about, uhm, privacy," Han says, propping his elbow onto the bunk and looking down at her. "You have to admit, having our own cabin would be great right now."
"You should add that to your list of possible modifications," she says quietly, fingers touching the hairs on his arm. "Although for me a bigger bunk would simply do. To avoid accidents."
He lowered his head towards hers, the ghost of a smirk passing his lips.
"Avoid accidents?"
Leia nods. "Of course."
"That the only reason?"
"Mhmm," she says lazily, eyeing him through her lashes. "Why? Do you have other reasons for that, Captain?," Leia questioned playfully.
"I was just thinking about the dejarik table, is all," he arches his eyebrows. "That wasn't exactly my doing."
She gasps, feigning affront. Han can't help but grin.
"I didn't hear you complaining," Leia says. "But back to the Falcon…"
Perhaps he could think of modifying one of the holds into a proper cabin – with a proper bed, or at least a bigger bunk, and maybe even a private refresher. The bunk would be pretty easy to modify, anyway. He never felt the need to have that for himself, it's always just him and Chewie. But in the future…
Way too early to think about that, Solo.
"A proper galley would be nice too," Leia's voice brings him back to the present. "Since we're talking about modifications," she adds when his eyebrows arch.
"Yeah, I don't think we'd survive another sub-light trip in the current situation," he says seriously. A smile is tugging at her lips. "Anything else, Princess?"
She pretends to think about it.
"How about an actual shower? With water."
"How about I just buy another ship for your highness?"
She laughs. He's not quite used to that yet; it still makes his heart burst whenever he hears any resemblance of happiness from her. It's not a common occurrence when they're on base, and he cherishes it—and he wonders how long it'll last.
"No," she says at last, shaking her head. "I've grown quite fond of your old girl. In fact, I don't think I'd ever choose to be stranded on another ship for over a month."
His heart swells with pride, not only for the Falcon, but also for Leia. The ship would have to be home for her for the next few weeks, and to hear her say that after so many days have passed makes him feel relieved.
"But then," Leia continues, after a moment, "if it were any other ship, we wouldn't be stuck here with no hyperspace, limping our way to Bespin."
He glares at her, playfully.
He shakes his head, and sobers up. "I could do something about the galley though – if I intend on having you on the ship again in the future. I know the food rations are pushing us."
She arches her eyebrows. "And the bunk?"
"That's easier. Consider it done," Han tells her, and she gives him a smile. "Not sure about the water shower, though."
Leia feigns a deep sigh. "That's okay. We'll have to make do with the sonic shower, I guess."
They share a smile, but it doesn't last; the realization that their time together is limited comes too quickly and he's sure she's thinking the same. Perhaps they should be glad that the hyperdrive isn't functioning and they're able to have this. In any other scenario, she would have been reunited with the Alliance and he would be long gone.
He lowers his gaze, unable to look at her any longer; if only he had managed to pay Jabba before they got into this ridiculous, impossible situation. The ship isn't the only thing that needs changing; the mission to Ord Mantell was merely a warning of what's to come. He should have handled it years ago.
"I'm sorry," her voice is quiet, and he frowns, wondering what exactly she's referring to. "About earlier. I should… I shouldn't have left."
Realization hits him, and he scratches his jaw. "Oh. No, it's fine. It was as much a surprise for me as it was for you."
"I doubt that," her mouth is a thin line. "I'm sorry about my reaction, though. It wasn't—very proper."
He closes off without meaning to, but it's his turn to grow defensive; to him, the subject finished, and when she talks of propriety, a part of him is incredibly annoyed and another grows angry at her words. He doesn't want to say something he will regret though, and remains silent. Arguments with Leia have too much in stake nowadays.
"I'm still getting my head around the fact that this is where we are, right now," she goes on, "when two weeks ago we were on Hoth and I thought I'd never see you again."
"Well, I'm right here," he says somewhat coldly.
She gives him a pointed look – which is enough for him to know that she's sensed the change in his mood and she doesn't like it. Well, he doesn't like the conversation either, so maybe they're on the same page about this.
"Yes," Leia continues, ignoring his tone, "but for how long?"
"You think I like this situation?" his immediate reaction is to defend himself. "You think I like that Jabba sent the galaxy's best bounty hunters to look for me? I can't stay anymore, Leia. You know that."
"I know that, and that's why I didn't—what you said, before—this is why I couldn't say it," she explains, her words fast. "I can't think about what will happen when we get to Bespin because you were always going to leave, and now we're here, like this, and I—I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I don't know what I'm supposed to do when this is over."
"When this is over?," Han questions.
"Oh, don't act as if you're still not leaving when we both know you are," Leia replies in disbelief.
Han's voice gets louder. "It's either that or I keep risking everyone with the price on my head."
"We all have a price on our heads," Leia says, matching intensity of his voice.
"Yeah, but I've got two of 'em, and I can't do anything about the Empire, but I should have handled this with Jabba a long time ago," he sighs. "I can't risk it anymore. But I'll do whatever I can to come back."
He takes a deep breath, and looks at her. She's silent, processing everything, and he knows she doesn't agree; he knows that deep down she wants to face Jabba with him, and while he's afraid that this could be their end, he can't risk losing her. There's too much in this for him to lose the game. It's one thing to run from the Empire when everyone around you is doing the same, but running from bounty hunters was riskier.
He couldn't risk it two weeks ago, when things were so complicated and awkward with Leia. He sure as hell won't risk it now.
And they're used to these arguments; they're just not used to them being pertinent to their relationship, Han realizes. His words seem to silence her momentarily, and Han's afraid of where this argument might go if it gets away from them.
"I think you're afraid, Leia," he says tightly, his voice low. "That's what always held you back when it came to us."
The soft tone in her voice is not what he expects.
Leia's palm touches his cheek. "I don't—I'm not afraid of us, Han," Han looks down and realizes they've distanced themselves on the bunk. "I'm not afraid of feeling, but I can't… I can't deal with this. Not when I don't know what will happen on Bespin, or when we go back to the Alliance, or when you see Jabba. I've lost too much and—It's the uncertainty that I fear. Not you, or us."
They stare at each other for a long time; deep down, he understands. She's seen too much and lived through too many tragedies despite being so young. Self-preservation is something he understands and is a master of, whereas Leia doesn't do it enough. Han takes a deep breath.
"I don't want to fight," he says at last; it's not a lie. She opens her mouth to speak, but he continues before she can say anything. "I know, we fight all the time. About stupid stuff. But I don't want us to fight about this, because there's no need to. We don't know the future, we can only keep guessing. I don't need to hear you say what you're feeling. It won't change anything for me."
Leia nods slowly. "I don't want to fight either. And I don't want to keep guessing what will happen," her fingertips trailed towards his bottom lip. "I have a feeling we won't get it right, anyway."
Han huffs. "Please don't say you have a bad feeling about this."
Leia's fingers move to the scar on his chin, and she laughs. "No, not particularly. Maybe later, though," she confesses. "I can have good feelings too, you know."
Han inches his face closer.
"Yeah? 'Bout what?" his fingers slip under the shirt she's wearing, and her skin is soft and warm.
"I have… a good feeling about tonight," she says, only hesitating for a moment. "And about the breakfast that Chewie will cook in the morning. And about that water shower, in the future."
Han nods, impressed. "Sounds good. Anything else?"
His nose is touching hers. Her eyes roam around his face. He can almost hear her thinking.
"Interesting feelings…about you," she reveals, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
He's mesmerized.
"I hope interesting means good."
She nudges her nose against his, eyelids fluttering, and sighs. "Pretty good."
His thumb is now caressing the skin under her breast, and she's lowered her hand to his neck. Their lips are almost touching, but for a moment he can't act. He watches her and savors the moment; He doesn't need to hear her blurting all her feelings to him. He knows they have to take this slow—maybe he's going too fast in his mind, but in reality he's certain that she'll catch up in no time. She always does.
She opens her eyes, slowly, but she doesn't seem confused as to why he hasn't kissed her yet.
"You said… I don't need to tell you what I feel for you," she whispers. "You didn't need to tell me either, but you did. And I want you to know that I… I liked it. Very much."
Han smiles. He gets it, and she does too. He was running, but she'll catch up. She always does.
"I knew you would," he says, and she smiles too, lips touching very lightly, the barely there distance between them just waiting to see who will move closer first.
In the end, they both do.