a/n: this was on my to-do list for the week, so i figured i better get it done and published!

Good

Leia woke up alone.

Sleepy, with a head full of uncoordinated, disjoined thoughts, she tried to remember why that seemed strange; she was always alone – she certainly always slept alone – yet this felt odd, and as she opened her eyes, so acutely aware of her solitude, she still wondered why it made no sense – and then all at once, her vision blurry, but alert, she realized she was not in the spare bunk, but curled up in Han's.

The memory of the previous night's events washed over her completely and, overwhelmed for a moment, she closed her eyes lightly, tucking her head into her arm – oh, yes; Han – a shiver ran down her spine, and she shifted, his sheets sliding against her bare skin; she slid her arm out, running her palm over the empty space – Where are you?

She took a deep breath, thinking of his lips on hers, his hands against her ribs, tangle of legs – she felt at ease, and then a snap of panic coursed through her, and she lifted her head, looking around, looking for him – her blood felt like ice for a moment; why would he leave her to wake up alone, the morning after - ? but then, she quelled the panic easily; they were trapped here, stuck on the Falcon in wild space, there was nowhere for him to run –

Yet, what did it mean?

She sat up, drawing the sheets up to her neck, twisting her fingers in them there – before she could start to let her thoughts run wild – is this setting a precedent, was this nothing to him? – he didn't act like it was nothing last night – the cabin door slid open with a soft swish and Han stepped through the door, half dressed, and moving gingerly – clearly in an effort to be quiet.

He turned on his heel, and saw her, wide-awake and looking at him cautiously, and his expression fell. He seemed – disappointed, though she immediately identified it wasn't directed at her – and he strode forward, mustering a half-smile. He hung his hands in metal grooves along the top of the bunk, and looked down at her, tucking his chin contritely.

"Hey," he said softly. "Mornin'."

Leia closed her lips for a moment, tightening her fingers in the sheet.

"Morning," she returned.

She saw his muscles flex as he tightened his grip on the bunk. He shook his head apologetically.

"M'sorry, Leia," he said. "I figured I'd be quick – there was an alarm goin' off in the cockpit, and with this ship it's," he ran his hand over the bunk wryly, "better not to wait and see," he trailed off, and looked back at her. "I didn't want you to wake up alone."

Leia breathed out quietly, hoping he didn't sense the mild alarm she'd been feeling. She said nothing, keeping that to herself, and slowly laid back down. The sheets slipped off her, and she made a quick, instinctive movement to snatch them and cover herself back up – and then stopped, her hand falling lamely to her side – it didn't matter; he'd seen everything.

He noticed the movement, and leaned his head under the bunk, grinning at her. She smiled back, turning her face into the pillow and laughing quietly. She ran her hand over the empty space in the bunk, tapping her fingers gingerly.

Han cleared his throat.

"You," he started carefully. "Want breakfast?"

Leia looked at him without answer, biting the inside of her lip – she wasn't hungry, she wanted him to get back into bed with her. There was really nowhere to run on the Falcon, not when they were stuck like this, but she wanted to feel like he wasn't, somehow – running. She pulled her hand towards her stomach and then, inadvertently, tucked it under the sheets, slipping her hand between her legs self-consciously.

Han watched her, and loosened his grip on the bunk. He sat down on the edge, turning towards her.

"Han," she began quietly, pressing her hand against herself protectively. "What do we do now?"

It was a scary question, perhaps – too heavy, even, in some respects, but she felt vulnerable – translucent, and breakable.

He looked at her silently for a while, and then turned his gaze elsewhere, staring thoughtfully at the pillows – and she was desperate to know what he was thinking, what was going through his head as he decided what to say.

He seemed to make a decision, and climbed fully into the bunk with her, stretching out next to her. He pulled at her elbow until he had her hand out from under the sheets, and slid his palm against hers.

"Leia," he murmured, his lips close to hers. "I love you."

She blinked at him, startled – he took in the look on her face and merely nodded, leaning forward to kiss her. He ran his hand up her arm around wrapped it around her shoulders, nodding again. He kissed – the corner of her mouth, her lower lip, a spot near her nose – and she brushed her knuckles against his chin earnestly, drawing away only a little, to catch his eye.

"Don't," she started, her breath catching – like she'd been running for her life, though she hadn't been exerting herself at all. "Don't say that only because we've – "

"I'm not," he mumbled. He moved his hand up to cup the back of her head in his palm. He kissed her again, catching her eye – "I'm not," he said again.

Leia licked her lips, her hands trembling. She clutched at his wrists and hands, arms tangled up close to their faces – her elbow knocked against his.

"It's – that's – a lot to say, Han – "

"Do you believe me?" he asked huskily.

Leia's heart fluttered against her ribs, a shimmery thing, gauging the sincerity of his touch, his tone – and in a rare turn, for her, she dispensed with logic, and based her answer on the look in his eyes, and the way he made her feel.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding.

"Good," he said simply. He pulled his fingers gently through her hair, resting his head on the pillow with hers and smirking gently. "'Cause I don't know what we're gonna do next," he confided.

Leia laughed under her breath – she supposed she didn't either. Love was a binding sentiment, though, and it meant so much, and it answered the question, in a way – because at least this wasn't meaningless to him. She rested her palm on his check, and started –

"Well, I – Han, I – "

He shook his head, shushing her.

"No," he drawled mildly. "Not just because I said it."

She gave him a look.

"That doesn't seem fair," she murmured.

Han shrugged. He closed his eyes, and shifted closer.

"It's fair," he assured her. He nodded emphatically.

Leia compressed her lips. She felt – relieved, but it wasn't because she didn't feel anything for him, she just – Han was, she had discovered, an intensely physical person; he could use words flippantly, but his touch was – deliberate, meaningful – he hadn't laid a hand on her until he was sure.

She understood an element of that – she curated her personal space fiercely, to be sure – but she had worked in words her entire life, she understood the power behind them, and no matter how she felt, vocalizing – that – right now, it was almost impossible.

And he – understood that.

Somehow.

She rolled onto her back comfortably, staring up at the overhead of the bunk. She closed her eyes.

Han cleared his throat.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" he ventured.

Leia turned her head, nodding silently.

Han hesitated, and she blinked her eyes open, waiting. He placed his hand on her abdomen and slid it lower, closer to her hips, raising his head.

"Was it," he started, and cleared his throat again. "Was it any good?"

She looked at him curiously, and noticed he seemed almost – nervous. She parted her lips and tilted her head, a little amused.

"Was it…?" she carefully started to repeat.

"Any good?" he finished for her. "For you?" he pressed. "Was I okay?"

His brow furrowed anxiously, and she was thunderstruck by his insecurity. She pursed her lips, finding, even, that she needed to clarify, to make sure he was actually asking –

"In bed?"

Han nodded.

Leia tucked her head down for a moment, her face flushing pink. Unable to help it, she laughed, pulling a hand to her mouth and trying to stifle it. Han tapped her shoulder, trying to get her to tilt her head up.

"Why're you laughing?" he asked warily. "That's not my favorite reaction," he noted dryly.

"I," she started stammering. "It's not – you're not the one I – thought would worry about performance," she said, stumbling over the words. She started laughing quietly, but good-naturedly; certainly not making fun of him. "I'm the one who – "

"That's why it matters," Han said gruffly. "'Cause you – 'cause I should make it – " he broke off, grimacing at himself. "Was it any good?" he repeated finally, because that was more simpler, and easier to get out.

Leia smiled softly, nodding. She brushed her fingertips against his jaw.

"Yes," she whispered honestly. She leaned in to kiss him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "Yes, it was good."

Han's muscles relaxed under her touch, and he grinned, relieved.

"Think you'd do it again?" he teased huskily.

Leia giggled, catching his eye brightly – without a word, she nodded, and he pulled her closer, tight and secure against him, and she had the feeling that it wouldn't really have mattered to her if he was any good at all, as long as it was him.

someone asked me if I thought they said "I love you" before or after sleeping together, and if I thought Han or Leia said it first, etc. I already had this fic planned, but - that question got it put down on paper!

-alexandra

story #349