First Kiss

He knew it was unlike him – a fact Chewie kept reminding him of in deep, mocking growls laced with a concerned undertone, to which he felt like responding, It was just a kiss but never did – but he couldn't bring himself to look for her until much later, long after the feel and smell of her seared onto his own body and mind had been slowly drawn away by the ship's recycled air. Though he refused to admit it – what for he didn't know, as he was certain the Wookiee already sensed his feelings – he was terrified that he had lost her, pulled her in for a second just to push her away forever. He didn't know when, but somewhere along the line it had become very important to him to prevent this from happening.

Eventually, he did find her, curled up in his seat in the cockpit, alone and in the dark, watching the stars fly by with wide, pained eyes. It was the last place he would have thought to look. He thought it was funny she'd pick his chair, with the whole ship at her disposal. He was sure she'd already found half a dozen hiding places he didn't even know existed; could it mean something that she had chosen here?

He knocked lightly on the door frame, causing her to jump slightly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Han." She said it like a sigh, as if somehow seeing him had lifted a weight off her chest. He wasn't sure if it was a sign to continue or not – of course, it was always on the positive side when she refrained from throwing things in his direction.

"Well?" He leaned back against the doorframe. If their past confrontations were anything to judge by, he'd be here for a while.

She sighed. "I don't really have an explanation, if that's what you're–"

"Is it always like this with you?"

She met his eyes for the first time. Her expression was genuinely confused, though even that emotion thinly veiled the hurt underneath. "Like what?"

"Do you treat all your boyfriends like this?" He stopped, not sure how to phrase the question eating unbidden at his heart. "I mean, not that I'm your boyfriend or anything, but . . ." He trailed off, feeling lost.

Caught off guard by the seriousness of his question, the petite princess sat in silence for a long while. Han began to give up hope that she'd ever respond.

"What other boyfriends?"

"Guys who, uh, courted you? Or whatever? Back on–" he was almost afraid to say it "–Alderaan?" Seeing no spark of recognition in her eyes, he continued. "Boys you liked?"

She shook her head slowly. "I didn't have time for romance. You're the first person I've ever even . . . Well, besides those storm troopers back on the Death Star. They didn't exactly understand boundaries."

At first he thought it had just slipped out, that she hadn't meant to say it. Her voice was so soft, with none of the confidence she usually commanded in their frequent verbal spars. But her eyes remained downcast, unwilling to meet his own – and he realized she had decided, to some extent at least, to open up a little. And she was afraid of the repercussions of this small act of trust. Her eyes shone with unshed tears – his princess never cried, even when life was at its worst – and he could sense that she was about to run. He caught her hand as she passed him and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Sweetheart," he said. "Leia."

Unable to do anything else with the effort she was exhausting trying to hold in the desperate sobs that threatened to wrack her thin frame, she burrowed deeper into his chest.

"And you didn't tell anybody?" he asked finally when she'd pulled herself together.

"Well, you can't hide that sort of thing from medical droids," she stated matter-of-factly, vaguely aware of his disapproval but unsure what she had done wrong. Han decided not to press the issue. It was her own business, after all. He was lucky she'd told him at all.

She slid from his arms and began to make her way out of the cockpit, thoroughly tired of the deep conversation. He grabbed hold of her again and tugged her back, taking his rightful seat and settling her in his arms. She looked vaguely uncomfortable, but she didn't resist, and he didn't miss when she snuggled closer, disguised as a shift in position.

Realization dawned on him. "So . . . I was your first kiss?"

Her expression darkened. "But I've just told you I already had–"

"Don't say it like that," he interrupted, trying for a breezy tone but settling on something more ominous. "It doesn't count. Doesn't matter."

"Oh," she said, and to his surprise, a faint blush tinged her cheeks. She grinned shyly. "Well, then, yes."

He grinned, looking a little too smug, in her opinion. Then the smile slid from his face. He scowled. "You kissed Luke."

"Doesn't count," she shot back easily. She had relaxed from the tight ball of tensed muscle. This test of wits was what they did best, after all – though they might have to add an additional, less vocal activity to their list now. "I've never really felt anything beyond friendship for him. I was just trying to make you jealous. I was tired of you making all those suggestive jokes and still treating me like some sort of ice princess at the same time." She smiled. "Luke's like my brother. That's all."

"Was it weird, then?"

"A little, yes." Her shy grin was back.

"Well, it worked," he said. "Making me jealous. A pointed glance was shot at her current location, and she began another squirming retreat, only to be restrained by her arms once more. Was it just him, or were her escape efforts getting more and more halfhearted each time?

"This is nice," he murmured into her hair, seemingly oblivious to her renewed discomfort. She gave a small laugh.

"If you mean nice and warm, then yes. If there's one good thing about this blasted ship, it's that it's warmer than Hoth."

"And I'm on it."

"Yes, you are."

"So that's two good things." He flashed her his crooked grin, the one that made her heart race in her chest.

"If you say so, nerfherder." Her tone was annoyed, but the small smile dancing around her lips said otherwise. She was so close. He just had to lean down and–

"Sir! Are you aware that the odds of that wire you used to connect the main power circuit to the shield generator lasting until our arrival are approximately 1614 to 1?" C3P0 stood expectantly in the doorway, clearly waiting for a response to his emphatic message.

"You know what, Goldenrod?" Han asked menacingly, unable to stop Leia from rolling off his chair and making her way to the door. "I think you and I need to have a little talk. In the airlock."

"But sir! What kind of talk could possibly require that kind of setting for effective communication?"

"Exactly the kind of communication I have in mind," Han muttered, and Leia, still hovering in the doorway, laughed.

"You two try not to kill each other," she said, earning an alarmed look from the droid as realization dawned.

"You can't go hide again," Han insisted as she disappeared from sight. He followed her out the door.

Her response didn't make him feel any better. "Sure I could."

"The ship's not that big," he called after her, a phrase he would have never uttered under other circumstances. "I'll find you. And you have to eat or sleep sometime – use the bathroom, too!"

She was halfway down the hall when he caught her, whirling her around and drawing her lips to his.

"There's your second kiss," he said once they regained their breath. "The third one's on you." He definitely wasn't imagining the broad grin lighting up her face as she edged down the hall, trailing her fingers on the wall behind her as she left. He sighed.

"Better hurry, Princess, too. Gods know I've waited long enough already."

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KnightNight7203