Dinner
by CorellianBlue
(first published 2001, revised 2020)
Warnings: language, sexual references
-2-
The simple touch of her arm locked through Han's—even if it was through layers of clothing—sent a pleasant buzz through Leia. Her escort was tall, handsome and all hers. She loved him and was happy and proud to be on his arm. That was, until they left the relatively deserted corridors of the officers' quarters.
The main decks and accessways of the Calamari cruiser, Azure Blue, were always busy, and particularly now, bustling with organic and droid members of the crew. However, at the sight of the princess on the arm of the Corellian general, activity came to a stand-still. People pressed themselves against bulkheads, granting the couple unhindered access and taking advantage of the clear view to openly ogle.
At first, the princess noted, Han kept his focus on the act of accompanying her along the corridor, his gaze locked straight ahead. But as the stares and scrutiny continued, he took to glaring at members of the crew, his eyes hardening with each step he took. Leia's smile became brighter and friendlier, in direct counterpoint to his irritation.
When they walked past an unfortunate junior non-commissioned officer who made a strangled gurgling/giggling noise in his closed mouth, Han halted his forward movement and backed up, tugging Leia along with him, oblivious to her flat shoes sliding on the polished surface of the deck or the way she clutched onto his arm to regain her balance.
The technician immediately came to attention as Han stopped in front of him, back ramrod straight and eyes fixed ahead. Han straightened his own shoulders, intimidating the younger man with his height and his rank.
"You gotta problem there, Corporal?" General Solo asked, a grimace twisting his mouth.
"No, sir," the tech crisply responded, his eyes staring at a spot on the bulkhead immediately behind Han's ear.
Han leaned into the corporal's face. "I thought I heard you say somethin'."
"No, sir."
Han's grimace tightened into a smile devoid of humour. "Are you sure, soldier?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excuse me, General," Leia interrupted, granting the junior NCO a reprieve. "We need to press on or we'll be late."
Her composure seemed to have a calming effect on Han's ire; he pulled back from the corporal.
"At ease," he tersely directed the younger man, before allowing Leia to draw him back into his hyperlane and continue down the corridor.
Maintaining her smile towards the crew, Leia settled back into his arm, softly admonishing him so only he could hear, "You need to ease up, Han. They're curious."
"They need to mind their own damn business," he complained. "Should've better things to do than follow our sex life."
"The Rebel Alliance thrives on gossip. You know that best of all, because I distinctly recall you contributing to the rumours about us."
Han used his free hand to point at himself and asked incredulously, "Me? When did I ev—" The sideways glance she gave him stopped him mid-protest.
Leia fondly squeezed his arm. "Besides, we're just confirming what the whole Alliance has known for years."
He frowned. "Which is?"
"We've been having an affair since Yavin and have now decided to bring it out into the open."
That seemed to brighten his mood. "Oh, that." He waggled his eyebrows at her, a glint in his eye. "Nice thought, though, isn't it? Me screwin' you since Yavin."
They stopped at the turbolift and Leia matched his smile. "I think you'll find that I'm the one who has been 'screwin''—" she successfully imitated his distinct Corellian inflection—"you."
"Absolutely, Your Worship. You know I'm happy for you to do whatever you want to me. You can drag me around by my—"
Leia was grateful the turbolift's arrival trill cut him off before he could further elaborate on exactly what he wanted her to drag him around by. Which was just as well because the hatch opened to a full lift car.
The princess and her general stood graciously to one side to allow more curious crew members to disembark—one accepting, the other barely tolerating, the casual glances, double-takes and open stares. With the turbolift car empty, Han raised a gallant hand, gesturing for Leia to move in ahead of him while he followed. He took up a position behind her, indolently leaning against the side of the car so he faced her back. Once the doors had closed and Leia had selected the deck level, she turned towards him, tilting her head up to watch him. His smile was a cross between whimsical and slimy.
"If you're going to grin like that all night, someone is going to think you're an idiot," she told him, her amusement evident. "And I'm not sure they'll be all that far from the truth."
"I'm not grinnin'. This is a grin." He bared his teeth as if in pain, and she indulgently shook her head at him. His smile slipped back into place and he pointed at his face. "This is my reflective smile," he explained, smugly crossing his arms.
"Oh? And what are you reflecting on?"
"All the great sex we must've had on those missions we went on together."
Leia sniggered. "Only you would come up with that."
"Sure. We've been screwin' around since Yavin. We musta been screwin' around on all those ops and missions as well." He grabbed a handful of the waist of her dress, placed the weight of his other hand against her hip, the heat of his palms and fingers searing through to her skin. "Right under Luke's nose." His fingers curved further around her hip and she allowed him to tug her closer. "Sometimes, sleepin' next to him. Your own brother." His eyebrows raised dramatically. "How in hell did we get away with that? We must be sneaky bastards."
With the benefit of hindsight, Leia was a bit creeped out by the image. "That just sounds…wrong."
Still, she had to admit that it was an intriguing thought: not making love to Han while Luke slept soundly besides them, but the idea of discovering, years earlier, the real man—the real Han—who had hidden behind a mercenary's face. They could have saved themselves years of arguments, aggravation and frustration, sexual and otherwise, if they had gotten their act together sooner.
"I hate to tell you, but if we started sleeping together at Yavin, I most likely would've have dumped you out of an airlock by now," Leia quipped, the twist to her lips betraying her true sentiments. "You know how fickle princesses can be."
Han's eyes sparked at the challenge. "Oh, you woulda, would you?"
Leia placed a condescending hand on his forearm. "Babe, I'm only using you for sex. I thought you knew that. Everyone knows that. It's the main topic on the holo-dirt channels already. 'Princess Leia fucks Han Solo because he's a hyperdrive motivator in bed'."
His gaze burned with an intensity that took her breath away. "You can use me and abuse me, Princess." His voice rumbled through her as he lowered his mouth towards her neck. "I'm happy to be your palace slave any day."
The pulse flicked at the base of her throat, and she swallowed at his suggestion. Surely every princess deserved at least one slave. One Corellian sex slave… "Later tonight, perhaps?"
"Your wish is my command," Han promised.
His lips found the erogenous zone behind her ear and she sighed at the hot, sweet touch of his mouth.
"Tell me what to do," he pledged, "and I'll do it."
The open-mouthed kisses he pressed down the length of her neck were delicious. Leia closed her eyes and dropped her head back, enjoying the wash of desire streaming through her, ignoring the thought that he could wind up with her make-up all over his face, shirt or jacket.
She held onto his forearms for stability and he stepped closer, pressing his hips into her stomach, pulling her hips against his thighs. The vaguely rational thought that she was necking with Han in a turbolift—on an Alliance cruiser—flitted through her brain. Good thing we're alone, came the responding self-justification.
Han made his way up the other side of her neck.
"You sure you don't wanna go back to your cabin?" he murmured into her skin.
Part of her did want to rush him back to her cabin and take him up on his 'palace slave' offer. She was already composing several royal decrees for Han to enact.
But, Leia reasoned, there was a time and a place for everything, and they were expected for dinner. His amorous attentions were another ploy to get them out of the function. If he was forced to wait until the evening finished, he may appreciate her even more—if that was possible. And the heightened sense of anticipation would generate additional fire to their lovemaking when they did eventually make it into bed.
Running her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, Leia could not resist tempting him further. "Let's do it here, now."
Han froze, pulled away from her quickly. Incredulity creased his brow. "What? Here? Now?"
He stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging open slightly, as she unfastened the front of his trousers.
"On the floor. Against the wall. Whatever." Her fingers tugged at his belt, and she dragged the tail of his shirt from his trousers. "But we've got to be quick."
From the dazed look on his face, Leia could tell his head was spinning, and he was too confused by her actions to notice her furtive glance towards the turbolift control panel.
"Oops," she said rather brightly. "Too late."
The arrival trill sounded and the hatch to the turbolift slid open, thankfully to an empty corridor. Leia slipped him a cheeky grin and moved out of the car. He stared at her blankly as she stopped a few metres down the corridor, an expectant cant to her head, waiting for him to follow. He shook his head, glanced down at the state she had left him in. A self-deprecating smile softened his features.
"I'll get you for that, Organa," he warned, pointing his finger at her accusingly.
"Promises, promises."
He emerged from the lift re-fastening his trousers and tucking his shirt back in. "You're a tease."
Her eyebrows arched. "And you're not?" She turned her attention down the corridor towards the elaborately etched hatchway at the far end. Without looking back at him, she said, "Besides, you love it when I lead you on."
"Lead me on, yes," Han agreed, moving next to her. "Leave me hanging there, no."
Leia glanced at him. "Your shirt's sticking out the front of your trousers." Then she looked more closely at his groin. "Or maybe it's something else."
Han readjusted himself again, straightened the front of his shirt so the fasteners lined up and tugged his jacket down where it rode up his back. Leia flicked lint from his shoulder and conducted a cursory inspection of him. A smear of her foundation was smudged across his upper lip and across his cheek. Hoping he hadn't caused too much damage to her appearance, she wet her thumb with her tongue and wiped away the flesh-coloured make-up from his freshly shaved face. He stood there, resigned to her ministrations.
She pulled back from him slightly, gave him a final look over, "Right, I think we're ready now."
"I'll never be ready for this," he muttered.
Leia braced herself and ignored his remark. She looped her arm back into his elbow and, with a cleansing breath, they headed towards the dual doorway.
"This seems kinda familiar," Han said quietly, more to himself than to the princess.
Leia looked at him curiously. She had no idea what he was talking about.
"Walking arm-in-arm towards a set of doors. Heading off to dinner. Blissfully unaware of what lies in wait for us behind—"
"Stop it." Leia drew him to a halt immediately in front of the hatch and pulled her arm from his. A flush of anger rose to her cheeks. "Don't you dare equate this to Bespin."
Han guiltily averted his eyes.
"We're going to dinner, not to some horrible fate. If you can't cope with that, you may as well head back to the Falcon now. Alone. And don't think I'll be joining you later." Breathing heavily through her nose, she stared up at him, wondering if he would take her up on the 'easy out'.
His face tilted down as he looked up at her from beneath his brows, remorse colouring his eyes. She did not respond to his meek half-smile.
"Sorry." He rubbed the side of his finger across the scar on his chin. "Shouldn't've said that."
Leia simply nodded, trying to compose herself and to dissipate her anger. Bespin had been bad enough for them both without Han resurrecting painful memories and treating it as a joke.
Without further words, she released her breath through her nose and touched the entrance sensor. A chime sounded somewhere behind the doors. Moving her lips, Leia tried to find her smile again and ended up settling for an inadequate facsimile.
So much for that wonderful night out, she thought sourly. He's deliberately ruined everything.
Regardless of his apology, Han would be receiving harsh words once the night was over. For now, she hoped she could make it through dinner without getting more upset and annoyed with him.
Her eye caught movement as Han wiped his hands down the seams of his trousers. She turned her head to watch him. He was unaware of her study, his gaze riveted on the doors. He slid a finger down the side of his collar, loosening it enough to swallow deeply, his larynx bobbing with the effort. She watched the muscles in his jaw bunch beneath the skin as he chewed on the inside of his mouth. The aura he generated in the Force was more erratic than earlier.
Any thought of chastening him further cycled out the airlock. Han was more than a little nervous and probably with good cause. For the first time in years, he was way out of his depth.
Leia only had time to offer him a glance of understanding and forgiveness before the doors opened and a white protocol droid welcomed them. The droid asked them to kindly wait in the tiled lobby while it fetched its mistress. With the droid gone, Leia slipped her hand into Han's.
"You'll be fine," she whispered, squeezing his fingers. "I'll make sure they don't eat you alive."
"I'm not nervous," he said defensively.
Leia smiled and stood up on her toes. "I know." She kissed his cheek, rubbed away the lipstick mark almost as soon as she left it. Their eyes met and he silently thanked her with a small smile.
"Leia, how wonderful to see you. Thank you for coming."
The intimacy between Han and Leia splintered as if it was pane of glass. Leia pulled away from Han as the Commander-in-Chief approached them, a friendly smile on her face. Leia warmly took the outstretched hand, tilted her head in deference.
"You're looking elegant tonight, my dear," Mon Mothma intoned.
"As are you, Mon. Your gown is superb."
The material of Mon's gown seemed alternately matt and burnished, catching and reflecting the ambient light, with highlights sparkling off randomly stitched beads. It was the most festive dress Leia could recall seeing her wearing, so distant from the plain, formal attire she usually wore. There were even traces of carmine through the elderly woman's otherwise non-descript hairstyle.
"It's a pleasure to relax and dress up," Mon explained, an uncharacteristic levity in her voice. Her gaze turned to the patiently waiting Corellian, her trained eye quickly assessing the accuracy of his uniform. "Good evening, General Solo."
Han took the Commander-in-Chief's hand, hesitated as he appeared to be unsure what to do next, then sketched a shallow bow over the top of it. "Ma'am."
Mon Mothma visibly blanched at the informal title but did not chasten him. "I'm surprised to see that the uniform of a general actually suits you. You should consider wearing it more often. We might make a soldier out of you yet, Han."
Han's eyes instinctively narrowed, but he offered a lame, "Uh, thanks."
Mothma seemed bemused by his response and Leia repressed a grimace.
"Are we the first to arrive?" she asked.
"No," Mothma replied, her attention returning to Leia. "The other guests are already here."
Leia frowned. If anything, she thought they were early. "I didn't realise we were late."
The Commander-in-Chief smiled and ushered them towards the door she had appeared through.
"You're not late. There was a last-minute agreement to convene early for pre-dinner drinks. My staff tried to contact you; however, I understand you had the privacy filter set on your comlink."
Leia checked the rush of blood to her cheeks and caught Han's eye. Immediately after her work shift, Leia had spent a rather enjoyable 40 minutes with Han in their cabin onboard the Falcon. She had been slightly more than uncontactable.
Han chanced a surreptitious wink at her, and Leia's blush appeared in full force.
They followed the elder stateswoman through the doors and into an anteroom peppered with the dinner guests, perhaps 20 in all. Faces, both strange and familiar, immediately turned towards them. Leia knew at least one half of each couple, and in some cases, she knew both. Apart from Mon Mothma, Han would only be familiar with the military officers. The other guests would all at least have heard about Han Solo: the Corellian smuggler who now warmed Princess Leia's bed.
With a simple turn of her head, Mothma commanded the attention of the gathering. "Our final guests have arrived."
Leia recalled an adage her adoptive father, Bail Organa, used to say: If you wish to make a lasting impression, ensure you arrive last.
"Nothin' like being late to make an entrance," Leia heard Han mutter.
"Leia." Carlist Rieekan stepped forward, grasped the princess by the shoulders and pressed a kiss against her cheek.
"Carlist. When did you return?"
Leia enthusiastically embraced her old friend—her father's old friend—unconcerned with the inappropriate display of affection. After the Battle of Endor, the Alderaanian general had departed to collect his wife from whatever hiding place she had been sequestered away in since Rieekan had become an active member of the Alliance. Wherever it had been, it had ensured she was safe and protected from the Empire. With the Imperial forces dealt a decisive blow at Endor and the Emperor gone, the families of Alliance members were now coming out of hiding, electing to be re-united with their loved ones, regardless of the dangers still posed by remnant Imperial elements.
"Not two hours ago." The greying general patted his midriff. "I was lucky the dress uniform still fit."
"And Irris?"
As soon as she mentioned the name of Rieekan's wife, a middle-aged woman stepped up from behind him. Her hair was greyer and cut short, the Alderaanian braids removed to hide her origins, but Leia recognised the sharp-featured face. Her blue eyes sparkled like cut topaz. Irris Rieekan, academic and university lecturer, was still a handsome woman.
"Leia."
The two Alderaanian women hugged, enjoying the bonds of friendship and compatriotism they shared. In that moment, their simple embrace spoke more than words and they comforted each other for things lost: time, innocence, friends, family—a whole world. Leia held at bay the darker emotions of grief and despair, choosing instead to focus on the joy and happiness in her life. With Irris back, here was proof that life could return to a sense of normality.
Leia glanced at a major factor in her life that provided her with great joy. Han stood awkwardly to one side, uncertain what part he should play in this reunion, his face showing his discomfort.
"Irris," Leia touched the elder woman's arm, "allow me to introduce you to General Han Solo. Han, this is Irris Rieekan. Irris is an old friend from way back."
Irris smiled fondly and patted Leia's hand. "Not that far back, thank you, Leia." She turned from the princess to the Corellian general, her face lighting up in recognition. "General Solo. I've heard a lot about you."
"Don't believe a word Carlist has told you," Leia advised.
"I never do," Irris remarked. She extended her hand towards Han. "General, a pleasure."
Han returned the firm handshake, his discomfort easing slightly. "Please call me Han. Whenever someone calls me 'General', I keep lookin' over my shoulder to see who they're talkin' to."
General Crix Madine, a compatriot of Han's, was standing nearby and appeared to have overheard the remark as he snorted into his drink. Rieekan cast a sidelong glance towards the blond Corellian general.
"Well, Han, you can call me Irris. None of these formalities between friends."
Carlist Rieekan met Han's eyes and the two men shook hands.
"I suspected there was something going on between the two of you just prior to Endor," Rieekan told him, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Hell, I suspected something was happening back on Hoth."
"Corporate Sector," Han offered helpfully. "Remember when you sent us there? That's about where it all kicked off."
"It was Yavin," Leia interrupted.
Han's eyes widened in consternation. Leia linked her arm through his and leaned closer to Carlist and Irris.
"Right from the very beginning," she said quietly, "he couldn't keep his eyes off me."
Han made a pained face. "Back then, if I even looked at her wrong, she used to bite my head off."
"Aah," Irris interjected, "then it was love at first sight. The first time I met Carlist, I detested him."
Leia hung onto Han's elbow and clutched at Irris's arm with delighted fervour, ignoring the two men.
"That's exactly right. I hated Han too. Or I thought I did. He was the most arrogant, conceited, ill-mannered man I'd ever met."
Han rolled his eyes.
Irris suggested, "I bet he went out of his way to annoy and aggravate you."
"Yes!" Leia eagerly agreed.
"But he also liked to encourage rumours that you were seeing each other."
"Mm-hmm."
Irris nodded knowingly. "And that's exactly what Carlist was like."
"And at this point," Rieekan declared, taking Han by the other elbow, "I think Han and I shall mix with our colleagues while you two compare notes."
With an uncharacteristic smirk on her lips, Leia let go of Han, allowing Rieekan to escort him away.
"Be good," she whispered, but Rieekan was already introducing Han to the Mon Calamari admiral at Ackbar's side.
Irris sidled up next to Leia. "I'll grant you this much, Leia," she told her. "He's very easy on the eye."
Leia found herself blushing at the compliment intended for Han. "He certainly is. Sometimes, I have to pinch myself."
Irris became serious. "And he's good to you? Treats you well?"
Leia gave Irris a reassuring smile, unperturbed at her maternal concern. "He's wonderful. You don't have to worry. He may not have had the most respectable lifestyle, but at some point, someone loved him. I like to imagine that helped to instill some innate decency in him."
"And you love him?" Irris asked.
"Yes."
"Carlist likes him," Irris assured her. "I just wanted to ensure you did too."
Leia immediately replied, "Han's my best friend."
"That's good enough for me."
The women accepted glasses of wine from a droid waiter.
Leia took a sip, allowed her gaze to track warily around the room as she said, "I only wish it was good enough for everyone else."
Irris nodded in acknowledgment. "I heard a few opinions expressed earlier."
Leia wasn't sure she wanted to hear what those opinions were but asked anyway. "Yes?"
"Nothing directly to me, of course. I'm a new-comer." Irris's smile became bleak. "I just overheard a few tasteless remarks. From both civilian and military sides of the house."
Leia's grip on the glass increased as she attempted to calm her rising annoyance.
"When all is said and done," the princess said, "in some regards we are no different than those we oppose. I'm afraid there are as many xenophobes and elitists in the Alliance as there are in the Empire."
"We're just more discrete and self-righteous," Irris suggested. "But I do know this: Bail would be proud of you."
At the mention of her father, Leia's attention returned to her old friend and she felt slightly foolish for focusing on the ill-informed beliefs of others.
"Your performance as a leader of the Alliance has been admirable and your judgment unquestionable. I'm certain Bail would approve of your General Solo. He would be pleased that Han makes you happy. And he'd respect your right to select a partner of your choice, regardless of what others think."
Leia's smile was small and gracious, but inside she bloomed with warmth and gratitude. "Thank you, Irris."
Irris's blue eyes gleamed. "I'm only reminding you what your heart already knows, Leia."
With sudden clarity, Leia realised she had been awaiting her father's approval, not the endorsement of anyone else. And Bail Organa, the man that he was, would have approved of Han. If not upon first meeting him—Han did have a slight problem with first impressions—but eventually, Bail would have seen who Han Solo really was. Just as Leia had.
The Alderaanian women looked towards their men. Carlist appeared to be involved in an intense discussion with Crix Madine, and Han was on the wrong end of an interrogation from General Dodonna. A scowl was bunched across the younger man's forehead and he hugged his arms across his chest.
"I think I should rescue Han from Jan," Leia explained. "They've never liked each other much. And it's about time I introduced him around to the others, so they can meet who it is who has captured their interest lately. You never know; they may actually like him." She valiantly tried to ignore her previous observation about Han and 'first impressions'.
"And I think I need to catch Carlist's attention before he wallops Crix Madine," Irris added.
"Was fighting the Empire ever this difficult?" Leia pondered.
"Perhaps," Irris said, "One thing's for certain: our boys do like to keep us on our toes."
"Never a truer word was spoken," Leia agreed. "We definitely need to sit down and have a long conversation when tonight is over. No men. Just you and me."
"And a good bottle of Toniray, if we can get our hands on one. I understand it can be rather difficult to obtain one of the remaining offworld bottles."
Leia's mood sparked at the mention of the teal-coloured, carbonated wine her adoptive mother served at dinner parties.
She placed her arm companionably around Irris's waist. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Irris Rieekan. A bottle of Toniray would be perfect. And I think I know just the scoundrel who should be able to get one for us."