a/n: this stands on its own, unrelated to anything.
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She lounged casually on the cool ceramic of the 'fresher sink, her back pressed lazily against the mirror, head tilted thoughtfully as she watched Han shave. It was a daily ritual, but one she liked to admire, and on weekends – when they slept in and eschewed work and responsibility – she often made a pastime of watching him, of having inane conversations with him while he drew the razor carefully over his jaw.
The heels of her bare feet tapped lightly against the cabinets beneath the sink.
"Would you grow a goatee if I asked you to?" she ventured, arching a brow.
Han arched a brow right back, focusing on his razor.
"You hate facial hair," he retorted.
"If I asked you to," she repeated.
"What's in it for me?"
"My amusement."
He snorted.
"Sure, Sweetheart," he quipped, scraping off stubble and frothy shaving cream and flicking it – first into the sink, and then playfully at her.
She swatted at him, pursing her lips, and folded her arms, drawing one leg up. She perched the arch of her foot on the edge of the sink.
"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked.
"I'll cook," he said immediately, shooting her a wary look in the mirror.
Leia grinned.
"I want fried shuura," she said silkily.
"You hate shuura."
She hummed under her breath, gazing at his profile.
"What would you do if I broke all of your favorite things on the Falcon?"
Han turned the sink on, coming to the end of his routine.
"Guess I'd have to find a way to still love you," he fired back.
"Ah, would it be hard to find a way?"
Han glanced over at her.
"Hmm. Maybe not if you're wearin' that shirt, and sittin' on the sink like that," he quipped.
She smiled placidly.
"What if I woke you up every two hours all night for the next," she sighed breezily, "four months? A year?"
Han laughed, shaking his head and rinsing off his razor, and his face. As he patted his jaw dry, he flicked water at her, and raised an eyebrow.
"What kind'a flirtin' is this?" he asked, amused.
He turned off the water, and leaned forward, pressing one knuckle against the sink to brace himself, and reaching over to rub her knee affectionately, giving her a curious look.
Leia pursed her lips sweetly.
"I am just determining your threshold, your capacity for continued love, if you will – "
He tilted his head, shrugged slowly.
"Ahhh, you're pretty stuck with me, Princess."
"Am I?" she asked, well aware of the answer, tilting her chin up. Her heart raced with anticipation. "Well, what if you have to share me?"
"Share you?" he repeated. His eyes narrowed – "With who?" he demanded.
"A rival of your own making," she answered cryptically.
Han gave her a look, and Leia turned her head, drawing her teeth over her lip, biting back a glittering smile, and closing her eyes for a moment, opening them to look back at him.
"What if," she said again, less flirtatious, "I told you I'm pregnant?"
Han straightened up a little, his hand stilling against her knee. He swallowed hard.
"Are you gonna tell me that?" he asked.
Her head lolled against the mirror. She moved her knee back and forth a little, equivocating, her eyes shining.
"I may," she said, "if you don't mind a house full of broken things, and never sleeping, and sharing – each other – "
He moved closer, squeezing her leg to hold her still, leaning closer.
"Leia?" he breathed.
She sat forward, placing her hand over his. She laced their fingers together tightly, held his gaze, and nodded. The grin that burst over Han's face caused her to start laughing. He lunged forward and pulled her into a hug, sliding her forward on the sink and pressing kisses to her temple and the top of her head.
"So, we're doin' this, huh?" he mumbled, his heart hammering in his chest – "The whole damn thing?" he asked.
The idea of being married to her had always seemed like enough of a privilege, but that he could have more with her, the sort of thing he'd never had as a child – it was both unimaginable, and wonderful.
Leia hugged him closer, pressing her forehead into his hair, and thinking of all the unbelievable events that had lead them to the purity of this moment.
The End
-alexandra
