Intermission

by Erin Darroch and Justine Graham

A/N: Surprise! This little tidbit was crafted for our dear Knighted Rogue, with all our love and best wishes for a very happy birthday! (Psst! We borrowed your enviro-shield thingy for the shower….)

Rating: Rated 'T' for non-explicit minor suggestive adult themes.

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Han drifted slowly up from a deep sleep, rising from the depths of an incredible dream as if borne upon the gentlest wave. As consciousness gradually returned, he became intensely aware of the woman who lay nestled in the crook of his arm, her compact body snug and warm against his own—and suddenly full mental alertness came surging back with a happy jolt. He cracked open one eye and tilted his chin down to peer at the top of his companion's head, feeling a beatific smile begin to stretch across his face as he took in the sight. The sense of amazed joy and wonder that had accompanied him into slumber now returned in a vivid rush and sent his heart bounding in his chest as he dropped his head back onto the pillow and heaved a contented sigh. His smile grew wider still.

So it wasn't a dream.

Han wasn't a religious man, nor one prone to superstitions or irrational beliefs. But he spared a moment nevertheless to send a silent thanks to whatever mysterious forces might be responsible for the latest turn of events.

Leia's petite form was half-draped across his, her warm weight a welcome anchor, with one small hand splayed across his bare abdomen and one slim leg thrown over his hip. It was the same position in which they'd drifted off to sleep, happily fatigued in the wake of their parting for the third time that night.

Han released an incredulous chuff of air. Three times in twelve hours? Such joyous and nearly inexhaustible fervour was utterly unprecedented in his experience. But it wasn't the only unique aspect of the evening they'd just spent together. Trapped in close quarters aboard his small ship, with nowhere to run and few places to hide, they had finally been forced to confront their true feelings—and then to face one another—with bittersweet memories of Hoth and their last mission together, and all of the misunderstandings and calamities of the past few months, whirling in their minds.

Han's pulse jumped as he recalled the intense and momentous events of the night before. On the edge of desperation where his relationship with Leia was concerned, he'd made the first move back in the direction of where they'd left off on Ord Mantell, daring to breach her reflexive and increasingly feeble defenses with a last-ditch kiss. To his relief and delight, she had turned the tables on him then, responding not with outrage or dismissal, nor with frosty indifference, but with warm capitulation, guiding his mouth back to hers, whispering willingness and consent, and simultaneously laying down a challenge that made the blood thrum in his veins.

Okay, Hotshot.

Han's head was still spinning from the impact of that momentous event—though it had taken them a while to recover the mood after Threepio's untimely interruption. But inevitably, after settling the most pressing practical matters of destination and survival, they'd been drawn together once more, compelled to engage at last in an extensive discussion of the only remaining point of contention between them: Han's imminent departure from the Alliance.

And what a conversation it had been.

Leia, true to her nature and apparently having now made up her mind, had gone all-in, taking Han's breath away in the process. His heart clenched at the memory of how bravely she had shed the last, tattered pieces of her emotional armour. Beautiful Leia, with her big brown eyes shining and the faintest of trembles in her delicate chin, had finally laid her heart bare, erasing in an instant every doubt that had plagued Han's mind since the debacle on Ord Mantell. She still wasn't at all happy about his plans to face Jabba on his own, of course, but at least she was no longer fooling herself—or trying to fool him—about the true nature of her feelings.

Witnessing that bravery and the depth of her emotion had been at once humbling and liberating to Han. As his defenses crumbled to dust, he'd found the courage to make his own confession, all of the words locked away in the sheltered corners of his heart finally spilling out of him in a torrent.

Fuck it, he'd thought wildly, his stomach doing flips as he took the plunge. If she's all-in, I'm all-in, too.

And like the final tap of the sculptor's chisel, the heaviest piece of the obstruction between them fell away, revealing the first true glimpse of the shape beneath. They were in love; deeply, indelibly bound together in a connection forged slowly over time, and made even stronger now by its open acknowledgement. Han's throat tightened, remembering those tender confessions. What Leia had said to him and what he had said to her in return—both the words and the nearly-overwhelming rush of emotion that had accompanied them—would be burned into his heart forever. Tilting his head down, he pressed a reverent kiss into her fragrant hair.

The faint floral scent flooded his senses and triggered even more memories—vivid recollections of the passionate aftermath of those terrifying and exhilarating moments, when all of the yearning that had been pent up inside them for years had been released in a frenzied flood of desire. They'd fallen upon one another almost ravenously at first, desperate to make up for lost time, unable to get enough of each other. The hours that followed—seemingly endless spans of time filled with gratified sighs and shared laughter, whispered reaffirmations and the silent wonder that came with discovering one another for the first time—had been the most intimate and intense of Han's life. Their first union had been the purest physical expression of love that he had ever known and the second, a few hours later, had only intensified that connection. The third time—initiated by Leia's hand gliding with purpose over his hip, waking him from a sound sleep—had felt as natural and right as waking up with her in his arms felt now.

Han lifted his head slightly to glimpse the chrono embedded in the bulkhead at his feet and felt his eyebrows climb. That last sweet interlude between them had taken place more than an hour before, in the small hours of the ship's "morning" cycle. They'd been sequestered in the bunkroom now for much longer than he'd anticipated and he was suddenly acutely aware of how long he'd been absent from his usual post. Chewie would understand—hell, he understood better than anyone what it had taken for him and Leia to get to this point. But Bespin was a very long way away, and there was much work to be done to get them there. It was time to move.

But he didn't move; not right away. The feeling of holding Leia as she slept was the fulfilment of a longed-for wish and Han was loath to bring the interlude to an end. He lingered for a while, revelling in the novel and thrilling sensation of her warm breath tickling his bare skin, and the feel of her soft body pressed intimately against his own. To his astonishment, he felt the first stirrings of reawakening desire and had to suppress the impulse to laugh out loud. At thirty-two, he was in his prime and he had ached for Leia for a long, long time—but even so, his body's perpetual state of readiness was remarkable and kind of amusing. Although he now keenly regretted having arranged with Chewie to get an early start on their lengthy list of repairs before they'd parted ways last evening, he reckoned it was probably a good thing he had an excuse to leave the bed.

Shifting just enough, he angled his head back against the pillow so that he could watch Leia as she slept. In the faint blue glow of the overhead light, he could see her dark lashes twitching against her cheeks as if she were in the throes of a dream. He tightened his arm around her, fingertips absently stroking the thick strands of silken hair that tumbled down her back. Gods, she was beautiful. But the thing that really made his heart trip over itself was the newfound certainty that she truly did love him and want him, the way he had loved and wanted her for so long. That felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he still couldn't quite believe his luck. Unable to resist the urge, he stretched down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, and then another, and another.

Reflexively, Leia's fingers curled against his abdomen. A warm wave of affection surged through Han as she stirred and turned her face inward, burrowing her nose into his chest with the most adorable snuffling sound. Her eyes opened slowly and she lifted her head, her half-lidded gaze wandering about the darkened cabin with a befuddled expression before settling blearily on his face.

"Time is it.…?" she mumbled in a voice thick with sleep.

Han smiled down at her upturned face. "Early," he returned in low whisper.

"Mmm...oughta get up," she breathed, though she made no effort to disentangle herself from his embrace. Instead, she nestled a little tighter into him and closed her eyes once more, and within moments had seemingly drifted off again.

He gathered her a little closer, tilting his head to press another soft kiss into her hair. He couldn't blame her for being exhausted; the frantic escape from Hoth had taken a toll on them all, and the emotional wringer they'd subsequently put themselves through hadn't helped matters. Add to that the fact that they'd only slept a few hours at a time through the night and it was no wonder if Leia needed a little more rest. The first item on the day's schedule of repairs had been to refit the aft power converter's cooling units, and he was counting on her small hands to help him swap out the blown condensers. For a brief moment he considered gently nudging her awake again, but quickly revised his plans. There was no point in both of them being dead on their feet, he reasoned, when there was no shortage of things he could do on his own or with Chewie to bring the ship back to full functionality. The condensers could wait. And besides, Leia looked more relaxed and peaceful than he'd ever seen, and he knew that no one was more deserving of a bit of peace. It was best to let her slumber just a little while longer.

Reaching up to the panel overhead, he increased the light level just enough to see his way clearly, and then carefully inched away, moving with glacial slowness to avoid jostling Leia too much. He eased out of the bunk and then dropped to one knee to sort through the mix of discarded clothing that lay strewn across the deck plates. Finally finding his own garments, he dressed quietly at the edge of the bunk, keeping a watchful eye on Leia's slumbering form. Then, keeping his footsteps light, he crept to the hatch and palmed the controls. Turning back toward the bunk, he held his breath until the noisy whirr of the hatch subsided, releasing it only when Leia shifted and curled up on her side, and then was still once more.

With her dark hair fanned out all around her and her delicate features relaxed in repose, Leia struck such an alluring image that Han felt his whole body tighten in response. He was seized by the sudden urge to return to the bunk and crawl back in beside her, kiss her awake and show her all over again what she meant to him. But there would be time enough for that later, he counselled himself, as he lowered the cabin lights from the hatchside panel and turned away. Right now Chewie was waiting, and Han couldn't let his friend down.

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