Disclaimer: Obviously I didn't invent Star Wars or any of its characters. Thanks to the Great George Lucas for doing that for us. The title is from Smashmouth, so you guys don't sue me either!
This is my first posted fanfiction, just a short little vignette, any feedback is appreciated (but if you're going to flame, please give specifics!)
And Then the Morning Comes
Leia stood up from the pilot's chair as the Millenium Falcon finished shuddering from the jump into hyperspace. She was exhausted but exhilirated at the same time; they'd escaped. They were alive. A smile spread over her face. Han was safe, awake, and with her. Her heart fluttered, nervously but wonderfully at that beautiful novelty. Leaving Threepio switched off behind her, she made her way back into the ship's sleeping quarters where he lay on the lower bunk.
"Hey, nerfherder," she said to him gently. Chewie chuffled at them, ruffled Han's hair and discreetly left the room, sealing the door behind him.
"Hello, your worshipfulness," he replied in kind, gazing at her a little vaguely. He could see the shape of her body in the bright ship's light, the color of her clothing and her gorgeous brown eyes as she knelt down beside him and ran her hand along his arm.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Tired," he said honestly, "a little queasy." He blinked, then grinned up at her mischievously. "And very glad my vision is coming back. Nice outfit, princess."
"Thanks," she said sarcastically. She'd had that one coming. It still irritated her though; rescued hours ago, brought back from virtual death, and already he was pushing her buttons.
Smooth, real smooth, Han reprimanded himself, noticing the expression on the princess's face. He'd forgotten one small detail about the woman in his life; she lacked a sense of humor. He decided to keep quiet for another moment or two.
Leia dismissed her slight annoyance and went behind the door, sighing, to sit down with an embarrassing "clank" on the edge of the bathing unit. She began searching for the fasteners so she could get out of the stupid metal bikini and forget the whole ordeal. So she could lean back in his arms, finally, and have one single night of sleep without nightmares...
"Leia? " Han stood by the door, opened it tentatively.
Leia looked up at him. "Han. You need to be resting."
"It's okay, I can see now. I feel a lot better," he insisted, walking over and sitting down beside her.
"Han, I just need to get out of this stupid outfit and-"
He lifted her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth, cutting her off. "Looks like you could use some help," he said, softly. He ran his hand along her bare shoulder, reaching for the fasteners that held the top half of her outfit in place.
Leia inhaled sharply, surprised at how nervous she felt. It wasn't so easy to just pick up where they'd left off... "Han-"
"Relax, Leia," he whispered, carefully lifting away the metal decor to reveal her soft bare skin beneath. It was probably only the third time he'd ever called her by her first name. "You love me, remember?"
"I remember," she said, gently taking his hands off her and holding them in her own. Her voice quavered. "Han, we're in the middle of a war..."
He scrutinized her face briefly, and his expression changed to that of someone wounded. "Oh. I see," he said, standing up, angry. He thought immediately of her last words to him before he'd been plunged into icy darkness; had she lied? "You must've just gotten carried away in the moment back on Bespin. You didn't really mean it, did you? Well that's fine, princess."
"Han, calm down, I-"
"Go ahead and get dressed," he snapped. "I'll be in my cabin." With that he smacked the panel of refresher door and stalked out.
Leia stood there, stunned. She'd been taken off guard by his advances, and then again by his sudden change of mood. What the hell? She was hurt, angry, and wondering how their reunion had suddenly gone so sour. That ingrateful, selfish, immature... she sighed. Her anger, for once, hadn't the vigor to stay alive. She'd waited too long for this moment, to see him again. Now it had gone wrong, and for all her diplomatic experience she couldn't see a way to smooth it over.
Han, for his part, couldn't stay angry either. Not at her, not now. He really wasn't mad at her anyway, just himself. It was pretty clear she didn't love him, not the way he'd thought. She'd said those words to a dying man who hadn't died after all, how could he have believed them, expected her to carry them through? And now he was behaving like a jerk, and he knew it, but pride wouldn't allow him to take it back. A princess and a guy like me...? Bitterly Han came to the obvious conclusion. She'd had plenty of time to spend with the "Jedi Knight" while he'd been frozen and hanging from the wall. In that state especially, he couldn't hope to compete. His jealous heart slammed itself against his ribcage; he sat on his bunk, trying to smother his irrational emotions before they overwhelmed him. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe Luke was right, she really was too good for him....
Leia stood close to the door, hand poised over the panel, practically holding her breath. She was afraid to open it, wary of the look she would see on his face when she did... but... after all this time, she wasn't going to end up in another petty drawn-out fight. She opened the door and stepped out, wearing a simple white shirt. He sat on the bed, staring straight ahead. "Han..." she said, very quietly. He looked up at her, said nothing, returned his gaze toward the cockpit with an expression of wounded resignation. She crossed the small room and stood next to him. She waited a moment, then gingerly touched the top of his head, his ear, his face.
He looked up at her again, so childlike in some ways but so aged in others. "What is it, Leia?" he asked resignedly. "Are you going to tell me the news? How you spent the last year without me around? Go ahead. I'm listening," he said, tensely, bracing himself.
She sat down on the bed, folding her hands in her lap, and kissed him on the temple. "I spent the last year, Han, looking for you." He looked at her, surprised but still unsure of himself. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Leia gently turned his face to hers. "I meant what I said, Han."
They stared at each other for a moment, and he pulled her into his arms, gratefully running his hand down her partly braided hair.
"I missed you," she whispered, close to his ear. She slid her hand down his back, and beneath his shirt. He was tense, she noticed. Smiling, she broke free of his embrace and moved behind him. "It's been a long day," she said, rubbing his shoulders. She felt the tension draining from him slowly, a year's worth of catching up having worn him down.
He smiled, relaxing at her touch. "You could say that," he said. And after a long, long night, now that he was with her, Han didn't mind that at all.