Written in response to a request for a fic with Han and Leia in a bubble bath. Set about a year post-ROTJ, shortly after the holos from the photo shoot in "Three Baths" have been released. Originally posted to Tumblr for Scoundress Saturday.
Bubbles
Every muscle on Han Solo's body was aching.
The war had been over, really over, for more than a year, but the responsibilities of command were not. As a general, Han could have gotten away with simply supervising many of the drills his troops were charged with, but he prided himself on not being that kind of general. If the beings under his command were expected to do it, he'd sure as hells be willing to do it, too. Today's drill had been a hell of an exercise, though.
What am I, some old man? he wondered, and then answered his own question. To them, yes. Half of the beings under his command couldn't have been more than twenty-two standard years, and even the younger veterans of the Rebellion were just that—veterans. They'd won, but the war had aged them all beyond their years.
He perked up a bit when he reached the lobby of their building. Just a few minutes more, and he could collapse on the couch next to his beloved Princess. Maybe if he was real nice, she would make him a drink.
But when he opened the door, the apartment was still dark. Damn, he thought. Must've gotten caught working late again.
He began taking off his boots. He'd comm Leia after he got settled, see how much longer she was going to be.
He'd just gotten the second boot off when he heard a sound coming from another room. Instinctively, he drew his blaster and took a safe position by the wall, listening.
"You can put that away," said a familiar voice, calling from the other room. "It's just me."
He couldn't help the grin that fell across his face. "Leia?" he called, following the sound of her voice toward the 'fresher.
"No, your other wife," she said dryly, and he was ready to make a similarly smart response to that when he opened the 'fresher door, and stopped short.
Their large whirlpool bathtub was filled with bubbles, and Leia was lounging in the midst of them, her dark hair piled atop her head and an extremely satisfied look on her face. Han couldn't help gaping a little bit.
Leia looked amused, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Speechless, flyboy?"
He recovered, his grin making its way back to his face. "For you? All the damned time, Sweetheart." He began taking his clothes off. "What's the occasion?"
She smiled at him, her tone nonchalant but her expression teasing. "I thought General Solo might need more bubbles," she said, a reference to his recent holo shoot for a popular magazine.
He slipped into the water, savoring the warmth. "How did you know?" he asked, his aching muscles already starting to relax as he sank further into the tub.
"Had a feeling," she said, floating toward him.
"Mmm," he said, pulling her to him for a kiss. Her lips were soft, and tasted like—
"Whiskey?" she murmured softly as they moved apart. At his questioning look, she moved to the side of the tub behind her, reached back for one of the glasses, and offered it to him.
"Always a step ahead of me," he said, taking the glass and sipping. "Love that."
"My strategic mind at work," she quipped, taking a sip from her glass. "I did almost forget something, though." She turned her attention to the perimeter of the room, lifting up a hand and making a slight waving motion, at which the candles that had been placed all around them lit up.
"Nice," Han said, grinning. "Sure do know how to romance a guy, Princess."
She laughed, and it made Han's grin go even wider. How many times had he longed for that laugh, and the little crinkling of her eyes that went with it? Would he ever stop thrilling when he was the cause of that laughter? He thought not. He hoped not.
His aching muscles were all but forgotten now; he just needed those lips, those arms again. He put his glass down, giving her a look that he hoped would come close to capturing his intentions.
She clearly got it, abandoning her glass to draw closer to him again. In an instant, her arms were around him, her lips on his, her curves pressed to his chest. As his lips caressed her, candlelight flickering around them, Han thought, this. This woman, so delicate and powerful, so wry and loving, so brilliant and tender. This love, so improbable and so real all at once. This was the fountain of youth, the divine, the Force, whatever. This would always be worth fighting for, no matter how old he got.
