a/n: just more trip-to-Bespin goodness.
Downtime
The trip to Bespin, it seemed, was going to consist of very little beyond waiting for something on the Falcon to break, fixing whatever broke, and filling the intervening down time with petty bickering and other mindless attempts to stave of the life-threatening boredom that came with extensive space travel outside of hyperspace.
It was the downtime Leia dreaded; her dynamic with Han had already developed a new layer of tense and uncertain, brought on by the kiss in the circuitry bay; now she was faced with essentially living with him for weeks on end – and so far, it had only been five days. Due to a few extremely volatile fights that resulted from her taking initiative – incorrectly, in his opinion – in regards to fixing something, or cleaning something, she had resigned herself to stubbornly refusing to do anything until she was explicitly asked to.
Which why she was so uncharacteristically still in bed hours after she'd woken up. With nothing to do, she'd found a book to read on one of Han's old datapads and curled up lazily in the blankets and pillows. She was only mildly invested in the book, but it was something to do, and her mind was half-focused, anyway.
Most of her downtime thoughts were consumed by Han, and what Han was thinking, and what Han was planning, and what Han wanted from her, or with her, and what Han was going to do next -
-and just like that, the object of her ruminations barged into the – well, to be fair, his – cabin, immediately rummaging around in a drawer for something.
"Cozy, Princess?" he drawled, shooting her a look over his shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day you just laid in bed all morning."
He slammed the drawer shut and started looking around, frowning. Leia considered him for a moment, and then turned onto her side, hugging the datapad to her chest. She propped her head up on one hand.
"Do you need my help?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "I could get up and interfere with your ship with my infuriating female notions, if you like," she offered crisply, quoting back something he'd yelled at her when he caught her trying to clean his things.
He paused in his search, and flashed her a grin.
"On second thought, stay," he said, waving his hand gallantly. He winked. "I need a good memory if you in my bed."
She felt herself blush, but she didn't look away. She sat up, crossing her legs and leaning back against the wall of the bunk. She slept in the thin white t-shirt that had been the lowers layer of her snowsuit and her Alliance-issue undergarments – the sheets covered her lower half. He looked over her a moment – her hair was loose, no braids in sight – and then averted his eyes, clearing his throat quietly. She watched him upend another drawer and then shifted, tilting her head.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
He shrugged, and didn't answer.
"Do you need me for something?" she asked, managing to feel a bit of guilt for lounging about.
"No," he said flatly. "There's nothin' to do," he griped under his breath.
He had no idea what to do with himself on a lengthy trip like this with nothing – at the moment – to fix. He had a faulty hyperdrive and a famous Princess and the combination felt like a ticking time bomb.
He sighed after a moment, and then did turn to her, rubbing his jaw.
"You seen an old datapad?"
She blinked at him for a moment, and then shifted her arms, showing him one she'd been cradling against her chest.
"This?"
"Where'd you get that?" he demanded.
"That drawer," she said, gesturing to one he'd just torn apart. She hesitated. "It only has books on it," she noted.
"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "It's somethin' to do," he muttered, his eyes going from it to her.
She realized then he was looking for it because he was bored, too – and he wanted to…read? Somehow, she had a hard time picturing Han Solo reading anything other than repair manuals, if he even abided by those. She looked down at the object and then leaned forward slightly, holding it out.
"Here," she said. "I marked my place."
He shook his head, shrugging.
"Keep it," he muttered.
She frowned, suddenly quite self-conscious for lying around in bed, for not even getting up to check what might need to be fixed or inventoried or investigated. She tilted her head back and considered him, and then compressed her lips before speaking:
"Han, tell me if you need me to do something," she said. "I'm not above it."
He blinked incredulously.
"I don't think you're above it," he said, laughing shortly. "Let's get one thing straight, Princess, if I needed you to pull your weight, I'd ask – think you're above it," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "You get your hands dirtier than half the enlisted soldiers in your ranks."
Leia lifted her brows slightly, and drew one of her knees up, wrapping her arm around it. She appreciated his recognition; she felt inexplicably relieved to hear that he didn't think she was a spoiled brat – despite the gaudy, sarcastic titles he bestowed upon her.
He held out his hand suddenly, pointing at her almost aggressively.
"Stay in bed," he told her, point-blank. "There's no point in getting up."
"I only had a lie in because – "
"—because you can," he finished, shrugging. "I told you, there's nothin' to do," he repeated – he'd only been joking, when he teased her about sleeping in. He just wasn't used to a Leia who wasn't micromanaging everything within an inch of her life by sunrise.
He cracked a grin.
"C'mon, Your Worship, you haven't relaxed in years, just enjoy it," he encouraged, running his hand through his hair.
She rested her head against the wall of the bunk, looking at him intently. He started to leave, turning on his heel, and gave her a charming smirk.
"If you want me to join you, just say the word," he drawled suggestively. "Turns out I've got plenty of time to excite you."
Leia swallowed hard – was the whole trip going to be like this?
"What if I do want you to join me?" she asked abruptly.
Han froze in his departure, and after a moment, turned back to her, his hands hanging at his sides lamely. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her in something like disbelief, and she lifted her chin bravely, hoping the erratic, panicked rhythm her heart was beating out didn't show on her face.
"What?" he asked finally.
"Get into bed with me," she said.
His cocky expression tried to make an appearance, but faltered.
"C'mon, Leia," he retorted.
She held his gaze, and said nothing. His jaw tensed, and he seemed frustrated.
"You're not serious," he accused brashly.
She hesitated for the barest second, because she'd started out just trying to nettle him, to tease him like he did her, but some part of her recognized that this was all but inevitable, and there was no better time to test it.
"Yes, I am."
He stood there, a mixture of anger and uncertainty on his face, and she set the datapad aside, leaning forward. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder and when she sheets move he could see she wore nothing but the t-shirt and panties.
He didn't move, and she smiled faintly.
"Caught you," she said quietly.
"Caught me what?" he demanded.
She licked her lips, and swallowed hard.
"You're just as scared of this as I am."
His knee-jerk reaction was to deny any sort of fear, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He dealt with his inability to come up with a witty response by striding forward as boldly as possible and sitting down on the edge of the bunk.
Being on the same level with her, he regained his bearings somewhat, and looked her straight in the eye.
"I'm not scared of you, Princess."
She smiled at him intently.
He realized he was, to an extent, indignantly repeating her words from the circuitry bay, and he grinned a little sheepishly. He lay down across the bunk, propping his head up on his palm.
"Well, here I am," he said dramatically. "In bed with you."
She reached out to touch his face, her fingers running lightly over his jaw, up to his temple, and then through his hair. He watched her wordlessly, desperately on edge, wondering what she was going to do. She moved closer, bent towards him, and pressed her lips lightly to his. Despite the terrible angle, it was difficult for him to resist grabbing her and refusing to let her go. From his position, the only place his arm could go was over her legs – and that's where it went, before pressing against her stomach, his hand venturing under her shirt.
Her skin, her ribs, jumped under his touch, and she broke the kiss, sucking in her breath sharply.
He looked up to study her face, and what he found wasn't fear of anything physical, it was fear of the emotional, of being hurt; the very fear she'd accused him of just moments before – if only because both of them knew, inherently, that this would never be just a mere fling.
"Han," she began shakily.
The cabin door flew open, and Han looked over in disbelief – chagrined, he swore that if it was that damn finicky droid come to interrupt again he would space it without a second thought – but it wasn't, it was –
"Chewie," he growled dangerously.
Chewbacca huffed something mildly and then seemed to notice Han and Leia in the same bunk, Leia in an unusual amount of disarray, Han with his arm around her. The Wookiee stopped, tilting his head.
[Well you just said you were going to find something to do. I didn't know it was her.]
Han grit his teeth.
"Get out."
[This is it?] Chewbacca growled, his eyes on Leia protectively. [It's about damn time.] He warbled, and then, leaving the room, he added, under his breath: [Idiots.]
"What did he say?" Leia asked softly
"Ahh," Han began. He proceeded diplomatically. "He said have a good time."
Leia blushed and shook her head. Han shifted around and sat next to her, leaning back against the bunk as well. He slipped an arm around her waist and sighed heavily, looking down at her. Maybe he was scared of her. He talked a lot of talk, but when it came down to crossing the line, he hesitated. He knew she'd been through a lot, and he didn't want to screw up; he didn't want to end up as one of the things she'd been through.
He was surprised when she rested her head on his shoulder, and laced her arm through his, slipping her fingers into his and squeezing his hand.
"It's going to happen, Han," she said quietly. "Us."
He raised his eyebrows at her. She took a deep breath.
"I want it to," she assured him. "But I – can't just fall into bed with you. I – I only just confronted how I feel, and I need time to…let it simmer."
He thought about that for a moment, and nodded. Leia's resistance was legendary; so unlike the total lack of restraint he'd had in chasing her around Hoth. He nodded again, and smirked at her.
"It's a long way to Bespin."
She leaned into him heavily, pressing her face into his shoulder and closing her eyes, and she thought if things kept going the way they were, she could think of all the downtime with a little less dread.
references: ESB: "Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to excite me!" "Sorry...Haven't got time for anything else." / "...my hands are dirty too, what are you afraid of?" "I'm not afraid!"
story #299
-alexandra