"Good evening, Princess," Han Solo greeted.
"Good evening, Han," Leia Organa answered coldly.
"I found this in my nightstand, is it yours?" He showed her a small datapad, pink with tiny images of Captain Space inside read hearts all around.
"Yes, it's mine," she nodded, taking the datapad but being extremely careful not to even brush his fingers.
"Intriguing choice," Han added conversationally, leaning on the hatch frame, one hand over the proximity sensor that kept people from being crushed by the sliding panel.
Oh, gods, she looked so beautiful in that robe and with her hair down! It was evident that she had just taken a hot shower by the glowing quality of her skin. Skin that now he knew was even softer than the most costly shimmersilk. How he longed to touch and kiss that skin again.
Leia Organa sighed. "Donors have a strange sense of humor, lately."
The Corellian leaned down, closer to her. "Won't you lemme in?" He whispered displaying a lopsided grin. "People are startin' to stare."
In fact, a couple of young Calamarian ensigns looked away promptly when the Princess glared at them.
"Sure," she said, vacating the door. This conversation would have had to take place sooner or later anyway. The sooner the better.
Leia retired to the farthest end of the cabin, trying to put as much distance as she could between the smuggler and her. Which was not much really, since, typically, she had chosen one of the smallest rooms available.
Han Solo crossed the threshold but did not go further. He let the satchel he was carrying over his shoulder slide to the floor and leaned back on the now closed hatch. Crossing his arms on his chest and flopping one boot over the other, he asked with an inquisitive expression on his face. "You didn't come back last night; you didn't answer my comms today, what happened, Leia?"
The Princess placed the datapad on the small table, while studying the familiar figure before her. All traces of sickness were gone and he looked healthier than ever. His skin had recovered its tanned complexion and his muscles bunched beneath the double-breasted shirt. He probably had convinced the med-droid to give him some extra treatment. If he only would not look so handsome.
She finally locked eyes with him. "I did come back last night," she informed him.
Han Solo kept his best sabaac face on and queried again, trying to look innocent. "Was I asleep? Why didn't you wake me up?"
Leia's mouth twitched as if she was about to lose control over herself. "You weren't asleep," she finally blurted, "you were busy." The last word crossed the distance between them like a vibro-blade thrown at his chest.
"Oh," the Corellian observed, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, 'oh'," she mockingly imitated him, but there was no amusement in her eyes.
"I never said anything about exclusiveness, did I?" It was his turn to sigh now.
For the first time, the Princess avoided his eyes. Quietly, she agreed. "No, you didn't."
A smirk tugged slightly at a corner of Solo's mouth, but she did not see it. "Well, I'd like to address that topic now," he said.
"Suit yourself," she spat, regaining her spirit.
Han Solo abandoned at last his lazy pose and advanced towards Leia with every intention of taking her in his arms, but the defensive stance she suddenly adopted stopped him dead in his tracks. Stepping back, he raised his hands in gesture of conciliation, or maybe surrender.
"Hey, sweetheart, let me explain," he pleaded. "It was not what you think!"
"Not what I think?" she repeated incredulous. "You better have a good excuse then," she said shaking her head, promptly aware that the phrase itself was a concession. Get a grip, Organa!
Han Solo smiled at her slip and enlightened her about what she had missed.
Lee G'Mendez broke the kiss and stared at him for a while.
"You kiss like a married man," she said after a pause.
His eyes widened. "I do?"
"Who's the lucky girl?" the blonde continued. "No, don't tell me," she said waving his hand. "Let me guess... The Princess, right? She finally said 'yes'?"
Han Solo flashed an apologetic lopsided grin.
"Alright, I know when to cut my looses," The blonde affirmed, smiling sadly. "Good luck, Han, you're gonna need it."
"You think THAT is a good excuse?" Leia Organa almost shouted, incredulously, hands on her hips.
"What do you want me to do, Leia?" he started, using his hands to illustrate his point. "Stamp my butt with 'Property of Leia Organa'? Paint the Falcon's hull with 'I love Leia'? Lee's a good friend, the least she deserved was a goodbye kiss! Sooner or later everybody will get used to it!" The speech was not fully coherent, but succeeded in catching the Princess's attention.
"Get used to what, exactly?" She shuffled her feet, repressing the unwanted smirk that the image of that tattoo brought to her lips. She was not sure if she wanted to hear the answer to her question.
"To the fact that I'm now with you and I wanna be only with you!" He screeched a little, and she knew he was really nervous now.
"I've heard that line about good friends before..." Leia backfired.
"And you think I'm goin' around telling women that I love them too?" His arm described a half circle around him, as to comprise all the mentioned females. Lowering his voice, he added in the earnest tone she never heard out of him. "Look, Leia, I know that I can't prove to you that I won't do what I won't do... I guess you'll just have to trust me about this."
The Princess delayed her answer, breath suddenly caught in her throat. Oh, goddess, Winter was right. She could tell when someone was lying to her. And he was not. In his own warped way, he was telling her again that he loved her and that he was going to be faithful to her.
The nerfherder was right. It was a matter of trust.
And the problem was that, in the end, she trusted him. Irrationally, illogically, instinctively trusted him.
"How many?" She asked tensely nevertheless.
Han Solo shrugged but answered straightly. "Too many." Running his fingers through his hair, he added. "I won't tell you that none of them meant anything, because that won't be true, but you... you are different, you know."
"The Falcon could use some paint," the Princess deadpanned at last, crossing her arms on her chest. Her strained face relaxed a little and a wicked grin stretched her lips when she continued. "And you'd look cute with a tattoo."
"Your wish is my command," he said, smile lighting his eyes and thumbs hooking in his belt. He would not make the first move. Although things looked better than fifteen minutes ago, he had a feeling that he had not been completely forgiven yet.
"She told you that you kiss like a married man?" Leia asked, her eyes narrowing.
The Corellian let out a heartfelt, relieved laugh. "Yeah. I think I just kinda lost my reputation."
"I would say so," she answered nodding.
Then, with two quick steps, she crossed the room to him. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she pulled him down roughly until they were nose to nose.
"I want a full list," she declared, right before kissing him.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was a wild, angry touch, as if by attacking him that way she could erase all the other women from his body and his mind. Still pulling his shirt down hard, she grabbed his biceps with her free hand, her nails digging in the flesh covered by the coarse fabric.
Her actions had caught him once more by surprise and, for a while, the only thing that filled his consciousness was the sensation of her biting his lips, the hungry contact of her body pressing his own against the wall. The small pain in his arm that was so close to pure pleasure. It was in this moment that he fully understood that what had been less that a week for him, had been long, scary, lonely months for Leia.
Only when she broke up for air he remembered her request. Panting, he asked with dismay. "All of them?"
"Every single one," she confirmed, before kissing him again. This time it was more a duet than a solo, as they both slowly molded and melted to their concavities and convexities, her arms coming to rest around his neck. His own hands were not idle anymore, remembering quickly the old-new familiarity with the slim figure under the silken robe.
When one of her hands started to feel for the buttons of his shirt and her other slid deliciously down his back - far, far back, - he knew without doubt what she wanted and expected. Smiling brashly, he helped her expose his chest, where she greedily applied her lips, as proficiently as if she had done that hundreds of times. Shivers went up and down his body under her bold caresses and for a selfless moment, he wondered what had he possibly done to deserve such attentions from this wonderful woman. A Princess, nothing less.
His shirt had just sled down his muscular shoulders and they had slowly started to move together to her promising bunk, when a thought crossed his head.
"What about your reputation, Princess?" He said, real concern in his voice. "People saw me entering here..."
She looked up at him, a tender grin planted on her slightly swollen lips, sparks coming out of the dark eyes.
"I think my reputation went down with yours, flyboy," she answered.
Without hesitation, they resumed their coordinated movement towards the bunk but neither of them noticed, until it was too late, that one of Han's boots was pinning the hem of her long robe to the floor. Caught in their feelings, they only perceived that something was wrong when both of them were tumbling down unavoidably.
With quick reflexes, although somewhat constrained by the shirt folded around his elbows, Han managed to push Leia over to the bed, while his shoulder connected with a heavy thud to the panel across it. She landed unharmed on the mattress, but as the edge of her robe was still caught under the boot, it shifted and stretched over her shoulders, leaving her right one and a good portion of cleavage bare. If it weren't for the hidden safety fastener, things could have been even worse. Or better, depending of the point of view.
Laughing unstoppably, she sat on the bed and checked on Han, who was clutching his shoulder with a wince on his face. They were still disentangling themselves from the damned robe when someone knocked on the door.
"Leia, are you all right?" Mon Mothma's rich contralto voice asked with concern.