Starch Wars: Mind the Gap
By Justine Graham
A/N: Written for the lovely JennyCBS , who said: we're going to need a follow-up to Captain Tightpants. Or a missing moment, perhaps? Where Leia sees more than she bargained for?
I cannot resist you, Jenny, because you are seriously awesome…a tireless supporter, and a budding author to boot! Here's your wee missing moment, I hope you…uh…like what you see.
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Leia tried hard not to look.
She kept her eyes trained on Han's retreating back as they left the briefing room, hearing the chastising voice of her Aunt Rouge in her head.
A lady doesn't stare, Lelila; it's simply not proper.
She focused instead on the sight of his broad shoulders in a crisp white shirt—if she didn't miss her guess, that was marginally tighter as well, stretched deliciously taut over his broad shoulders, highlighting and defining the clean lines of his lean, muscled frame underneath. It wasn't her fault then, really, for the way her gaze arrowed straight down from there to his narrow waist and his slim hips. And she certainly couldn't be blamed for the way that damn buckle at the back of his worn holster rig caught the overhead lights of the corridor as they passed beneath; it glinted like a beacon, winking at her as if conspiring to draw her attention, shouting hey, look here! in a silent invitation she simply couldn't refuse.
Her eyes dropped lower still, drifting down over the tight curve of his backside, and what she saw stopped her in her tracks.
Either Han didn't realize the extent of the damage to his Bloodstripes, or he didn't care. He continued on down the corridor while Leia stood stock-still, a hot flush creeping up her neck that rose higher with each glimpse of the Corellian's very bare ass that flashed in the split seam of his trousers with every step.
Watching him move away, Leia tamped down the flood of random thoughts that sprang to her mind, ones that would rattle her poor aunties' sensibilities, if they only knew: I wonder if that skin is as smooth as it looks and how did he get so tanned there, anyway? But they were heading into a very populated section of the base and, no matter how attractive a sight Han Solo's bare ass was, she couldn't have him walking around with it on full display.
She cleared her throat loudly, and then again a little more forcefully when he didn't get the message immediately. "Han," she called out. "Hold up."
She trotted toward him then, closing the distance between them as he stopped and turned in her direction.
"Whatsa matter?" he asked.
"I couldn't help but notice that you're…um…not wearing anything under your pants."
"I know, I couldn't. Not unless I wanted to cut off blood flow to parts of me I happen to like."
Leia dropped her eyes, feeling the wave of heat in her cheeks that had just started to subside bloom once more. "Well, you're going to incite a riot if you traipse through central like that." Leia shrugged out of her flight jacket. "Here," she said, handing him the garment. "Tie this around your waist. It'll have to do until we find you something else."
"Thanks," Han nodded. He took the jacket, and flashed her that damnable half-smile of his in the process. "Couldn't help but notice, huh?"
"Shut it, Solo," she muttered.
Han grinned, and wrapped her jacket around his waist. The arms were too short to tie in front, so he settled for threading them through his belt loops instead. When he was finished, he turned around and struck an exaggerated pose, giving her an eyeful of the undeniably pleasant sight of his rear end, made strangely more appealing, more weirdly intimate somehow, draped in the worn military green fabric of her jacket. "Better?"
"Better," Leia said, and quickly moved ahead of him to take the lead, blowing out the breath she didn't want him to realize she was holding. "Let's get going."