Hello :)
This is my very first Star Wars fanfiction and also my very first fanfiction written in English.
I published it last week on a German fanfiction page and translated it now.
It is a songfiction based on the song "Poison" by Alice Cooper.
I've had this song in my head for quite a while and when I rewatched Star Wars the other day it clicked in my head and I had to write this :) Since this is a very new thing to me I would be very happy about feedback from you :)
Disclaimer: the characters and Star Wars itself obviously doesn't belong to me.
Update: I wasn't aware of the fact, that it is forbidden to copy the song lyrics. I'm very sorry for that!
Han sat lazy in his pilot's seat with his feet up watching the stars. Normally they sped past him much faster, but thanks to the defective hyperdrive he now had enough time to study the stars closely. The coordinates of cloud city on Bespin had long been logged in and there wasn't much for him to do. They had already put more than half of their odyssey behind them. Many, long days and every single one of them he wanted to shut down Threepio and banish him to the far corner of the Millennium Falcon. Many, long days and every single one of them he had thought of her. Especially of one evening, images kept shooting through his mind. A tingle ran through his body as he thought of his name escaping her lips, hesitantly at first, then lustfully. And yet the following day they had fallen back into their old patterns. She still was cold towards him, and they still argued about every little thing. Leia didn't miss an opportunity to tell him that they wouldn't be stuck on this ship if he finally decided to trade the bucket of bolts for a decent ship. She complained about the lost time almost daily. General Rieekan and the others would be worried if she stayed away too long.
During their last argument, about an hour ago, she had built up before him in the hallway to the cockpit and fixed him with her cold stare while telling him that the whole thing here and the rebellion in general was just a joke for him anyway. Han had been seething with anger, and he didn't even know what had triggered this argument. As always, they had worked themselves up until it got personal. Like it's fun to let the discussion turn into a kick below the belt. But this time, hearing her words hurt. Leia had often accused him of not caring about the rebellion, but that wasn't true. The rebellion and Leia meant more to Han than he was willing to admit. It was not without reason that he was still here, although he has often announced his leaving. Something had always held him back. He had hoped that she would see it after their night together, but as suddenly as she dropped her walls for him, they were rebuilt, and she stood before him as the ice princess she had always shown. He didn't understand it and it drove him insane.
She glared at him angrily. Her eyes flashed cold anger. But suddenly, without another word, she spun around and hurried away. Had she seen sorrow in Han's eyes? And if so, did it even make a difference to her?
Going after Leia was useless, he had to learn that the hard way. Thus, he had retired to the cockpit and was lost in his thoughts. He should just choke off their argument, like any other and forget about it. That's how they were. But this time he couldn't just forget about it. Did she really think that poorly of him? That he only stayed for the money. How could she dislike him so much after they made love? Maybe it meant nothing to her. The thought made his heart ache. He didn't want to believe it because this night meant so much more to him. His thoughts drifted there.
As usual, Chewbacca was in bed before them. Han had the suspicion his co-pilot thereby wanted to give them more time to themselves. Threepio had as well called it a day. That's what Han looked forward to every night; his peace without Threepio's annoying, metallic voice pointing out more and more faults with the Falcon. So, it was only Leia and Han sitting at the Dejarik table in the main hold, which they had converted into a bar table. Han had opened one of his best whiskeys that he could get hold of on one of his supply runs. They enjoyed the liquor and the warm and calming feeling it created. It was a good evening. Leia seemed relaxed and laughed a lot. There were only a few moments when he had seen her like this. She was always the politician and rebel leader; intelligent, skilled at negotiations and aloof. She rarely allowed herself a break, let alone a free evening. Han studied her closely. She sat across from him on the bench, one leg drawn up, an arm wrapped around it, and her whiskey glass balancing on her knee, holding it with her free hand to keep it from slipping. Her hair was in two braids that she had pinned up throughout the day, but now the braided plaits hung over her shoulders. Her brown eyes glared boldly at him over the edge of her glass as she took a sip.
"You should take an evening off more often and join a game of sabacc.", Han remarked.
He enjoyed seeing her light-hearted. And it certainly wouldn't hurt her to have a little more fun. Leia knew that Han, Luke, Wedge and Wes met on the Falcon regularly for sabacc nights, and often spent their free time together otherwise. Occasionally she would join them after a long day at work, just to allow herself a moment of distraction before throwing herself back into work.
"You just want to see me beat Wedge and Luke again. Their wounded pride."
She giggled and took a sip, her glass almost empty.
"You know I can't. There's just too much to do, to plan and to decide.", she added more seriously.
"Sometimes you should put your own needs above the rebellion. A hilarious evening in good company will not immediately plunge us into complete chaos."
Han feared he had gone too far. He didn't want to spoil the mood of the evening with another pointless argument. But she seemed to take his statement calmly.
"Good company.", she quoted him, "Like today?"
She winked at him and drained her glass. She put it down and got up. It was one thing to see her relaxed, but he couldn't recall her ever winking at him. At least not in that way, almost like she was flirting. She had turned on music. He couldn't remember the last time, he heard music on the Falcon. Often it just distracted him and got his mind on things he shouldn't be thinking about. After the first notes, however, he suddenly remembered the last time he had heard this particular song. He blushed. Leia didn't seem to notice, or just ignored it, as she slowly began to move to the rich sounds. Han carefully watched her movements. She had her eyes closed gently, her hands slid down her sides and rested on her hips as she moved to the rhythm. He swallowed hard.
He imagined himself coming up behind her, putting his hands on hers and letting the music guide them. As if she read his mind, she opened her eyes and bit her lower lip. He had unconsciously held his breath. If he didn't know any better, he would believe she was trying to seduce him. He was unsure. He would love to be seduced by her, hold her and show her that there was more beneath his smuggler's entity. Yet, a small voice screamed inside him. He should resist her seduction. He shouldn't complicate their relationship. There was no room for feelings now.
Leia swayed her hips lasciviously to the music while maintaining eye contact with him. His mouth went dry. Something in the way she looked at him made his pulse quicken. Her often dismissive look stuck seductively on him. Something in her eyes promised more. He downed his whiskey in one big gulp. Ignoring the small voice inside, he stood up. She held out her hand to him. He let her pull him closer. They were so close he could feel her hot breath on his neck. In a smooth movement, she wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands came to rest on her hips. As if on its own, they moved together to the hot sounds, let themselves be carried away. Their moves seemed perfectly synced, just as they had always danced together. He felt her body move against his, felt her heartbeat. He slowly ran his hand up her back until it rested between her shoulder blades. She looked up. Her eyes glowed with the same fire he felt inside him. Simultaneous, they came towards each other, their lips met.
He focused on the movement of her lips on his, on the sensation of being able to kiss her. Breathless they parted.
"Leia..." he began. He didn't want her to do anything she would regret.
But she shook her head vehemently: "Kiss me, hold me."
To emphasize her demand, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. They threw all restraint overboard. The kiss deepened. Han cautiously approached and ran his tongue over her bottom lip. She complied with his request and parted her lips. Their tongues met stormy, longing. Her kisses made him want more. The feeling of her lips on his hooked him as if they were poisonous. A sweet poison he wanted more of. Her hands were in his hair, holding him close. His hands wandered down her back, down her sides, until he reached her butt. He pressed against her, wanting to be even closer to her. They stumbled backwards until Leia felt the cold wall against her back. Her hands slid over his strong shoulders, over his stomach, down to his pants. A tingle ran through his body in anticipation of what was to follow. His heart was beating wildly. They parted, foreheads resting against each other and gasping for air. Her cheeks were rosy, and she smiled at him. She grabbed his hand, entwined her fingers with his, and pulled him toward the sleeping quarters.
What he wouldn't give to be able to be near her again as he was that night. The passion she had stirred in him was getting on his nerves. He couldn't think of anything but her. His worries about the bounty on his head faded beside her. It was as if his feelings for her were spreading through him like a wildfire, overshadowing everything else. Like a poison spreading within him.
"I've been trying to tell it Captain Solo for hours, but he doesn't seem to be listening." Threepio's tinny voice snapped Han out of his thoughts. That mechanical voice alone let hostility arouse in him. Chewie growled a response that Han didn't quite get, but moments later his co-pilot stepped into the cockpit and demanded his help with a repair. Threepio had discovered yet another weakness with the Falcon. Grimly, Han got up and followed Chewie. Apparently, a fuse had blown, causing the heat pump to stop working. If it were up to him, he wouldn't fix it now. He could manage without warm water for the last few days before they arrive on Bespin. But that would give a certain princess just one more reason to bitch about his spaceship. He gave in with a sigh at the thought of another argument with her, possibly escalating again and getting personal. Ending with him getting hurt. There were already enough points of friction that he didn't have to provoke this. In the main hold, he and Chewie lifted the floor panel for the maintenance access, exposing the Falcon's mechanical insides. Han slid down and took a closer look at the problem.
"Captain Solo is handling it now, Mistress Leia," he heard Threepio report.
"Well finally."
The sound of her voice stopped him. He listened, but she said no more, didn't check on him. She would often join him when he was busy making repairs, commenting on his work as if she could do better. But not this time. He heard the sound of her walking away and went back to work. However, he could hardly concentrate. Her melodic voice made him experience a rush. A warm feeling spread inside him. Like a drug running slowly through his veins, releasing a euphoric effect. Her voice was enough to stir hot memories.
Her hands left a tingling sensation on his warm skin. Han watched her. The steady rise and fall of her chest. A thin film of sweat shimmered on her chest. A consequence of what lay behind them. Leia leaned over him and kissed his lips, continuing over the corners of his mouth to his ear. He felt her hot breath against his ear.
"Oh, Han," she whispered. Her voice trembled with excitement. The way she said his name in her husky voice sent goosebumps all over his body. Her fingers lazily stroked down his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her with him as he turned around. She squeaked briefly as she suddenly lay beneath him. He ran a hand down her side, feeling her tremble under his touch. Then he took her hand and lifted it over her head, tangling his fingers with hers. His free hand cupped her breast. She held her breath. He tightened his grip; she squeezed his hand that held hers above her head. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped his name.
"Are you ready?"
His head snapped towards her. He immediately blushed, his cheeks glowed, he felt caught. How long had he been stuck with his thoughts that he hadn't noticed she was there? She sat cross-legged on the floor and looked down at him. Her tone was as sober as he was used to. Nothing in her voice suggested their night together. No seductive undertone, no aroused tremor in her voice. Oh, what he wouldn't do to hear his name escape lustfully from her lips one more time.
Leia raised an eyebrow and eyed him critically. Only now he realized that she had asked a question. He shook off his longings and focused his gaze on the cable chaos in front of him.
"It's as good as repaired."
Han carefully untied a cable. Apparently not careful enough. A small cloud of smoke rose, and a brief burning pain shot through him. Cursing, he backed away. The smell of burned skin crept into his nose. He rubbed his hand. So that wasn't it. After a moment's thought, he was able to properly reconnect the cable to the circuit. He pushed himself out of the maintenance access and directed Chewie to try the according switch. A few moments later he heard the Wookiee report from the cockpit that it worked.
Han turned to Leia, who had gotten off the floor and was looking at him questioningly. Her shyriiwook was good enough for simple conversations, but she had to rely on Han's translation for technical matters. And those were common on the Falcon.
"Your Highness can take a hot shower again," he explained with a slight bow.
Ignoring his taunt, she stepped closer to him and took his injured hand in hers. She eyed the red spot from the electric shock. A small blister had formed. His first instinct was to pull his hand away. He didn't want her to touch him, not when she treated him so indifferently, but the feeling of her gently holding his hand was too tempting.
"You got some bacta pads? It doesn't look bad, but we should avoid bursting the blister and infecting it."
Their eyes met. He didn't dare to say anything, torn between the urge to hold her, to kiss her and the voice of reason admonishing him to put more distance between them. He wanted her so bad; too bad.
Involuntarily his thoughts wandered to their first kiss. It was almost the same situation as now. He had held her hand, massaged it softly and surprised her with the kiss. But she hadn't flinched, she'd returned the kiss. That first kiss left him longing for more, like it was a drug. But Threepio had interrupted their moment. He had feared she would withdraw completely afterward and avoid him, but she covered the incident as if nothing had happened. Just like she ignored their night together. The certainty that it had meant nothing to her hurt him. On Hoth he had been so sure that she felt the way he did.
Han took a step back, took one look at his hand and shrugged.
"It can wait until I return you to your rebels."
Her eyes darted quickly from his lips to his eyes. It was such a quick movement that at first, he thought she would just blink. But then he noticed the shadow that fell over her face. Was that disappointment he saw flashing in Leia's eyes? He couldn't explain it, but the thought that she might have thought about their kiss too made his heart skip a beat.
Something in him protested. He couldn't surrender his heart to Leia like that. Not if she didn't see in him what he saw in her. He had to resist her charm to avoid getting hurt. He couldn't love her. Not if they were friends and she would be around him every day. Not when his love for her was like poison, that threatened to plunge him into despair. He left her standing in the main hold. On the way back to the cockpit, he heard her calling after him.
Late in the evening she came to him. She sat silently in the co-pilot's seat and watched him from the side. He had preferred to eat dinner alone in the cockpit. Neither Chewie nor Leia had commented. Still, he hadn't missed her sad look. He didn't want to think about this change in her attitude towards him. He didn't want to think anything.
"Han," her voice was so low and so gentle that he almost didn't hear her. Since he was still staring straight ahead, she leaned towards him, put a hand on his cheek and carefully turned his face towards her. Reluctantly he allowed it.
"Han, I don't want to go on like this."
He didn't reply. She withdrew her hand. With each moment of silence, he became more aware of her nervousness. She had crossed her legs, her foot bounced impatiently up and down, her hands played restlessly with the stitch of her shirt. When she couldn't stand the silence any longer, she continued. Staring at the stars ahead.
"On the one hand, I want it to be as it was before. But I also want it to be more."
"What means as before or more to you? As many arguments as before or more?"
Her eyes darted to him, fixed on him, pain in her eyes. Pain? What reason did she have to be hurt? She played with his feelings; she was cold towards him after they spent a night together. Not the other way around.
"Do you think I enjoy arguing with you all the time?"
Han shrugged indifferently. "You seem quite happy to point out my mistakes and call me a scoundrel."
She arched an eyebrow in amusement, "You are a scoundrel."
She quickly returned to sincerity as she continued, "I... It's just easier to argue with you than to give in other feelings. And anyway, I shouldn't have those feelings when you're planning to leave."
Leia looked down at her hands, which had stopped and were folded in her lap. He questioned his sanity as he replayed her words in his head. Could it be true? Is it possible he had misjudged the situation of the last few days? Had his frustration blinded him so much that he didn't see through her phony mask? Wasn't he the only one who got hurt? Did they hurt each other?
Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind. A chaos of doubt and hope mixed with the warm feeling that spread through him when he looked at her. Possibly she was a drug to him. A poison. But perhaps he was for her too.
Now it was him who put his hand on her cheek and gently turned her head towards him, to face him. He had so many questions, wanted to say so much, but for the moment he just wanted more of the sweet poison. His thumb brushed her cheek. She closed her eyes, surrendering to his touch. He leaned closer to her. His nose brushed hers. She opened her eyes and in one fluid motion his lips met hers in a kiss. She scooted closer to him. He broke the kiss, pulled her onto his lap and lowered his lips on hers again. He felt her soft lips on his, timidly moving them against his.
"If you want to," he breathed between two quick kisses, "I'll be just your scoundrel, princess."
She let her bright smile be her answer before engaging him in another hungry kiss.
Maybe she was his poison, and he was hers. But this sweet poison was what they wanted; a sweet poison shared with the right partner becoming a cure.