Ah, friends. I'm happy to say that I've had a burst of creativity. Almost exactly half of this post was written two months ago, but I needed a few nudges from real-life people (one who reads this and one who doesn't), cyber-people (despite the death threats), and the resurrection of one particular longstanding favorite fic of mine to get the last half written and voila! Post completed. And I'm actually excited to post it. I've been waiting to post this particular post for awhile now.
(Evil cackle)
So, here you go. Chapter 21, ironically with no mention of alcohol at all … but an amusing self-correcting mistake from the past chapter. :)
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When the knock came, Leia was seriously considering taking a match and setting her hair, fake and otherwise, on fire. Ripping the giant mess out would require a higher pain threshold than she could support at the moment; she decided that the straightening, and then curling, and then the product, and then more of the product, and then the touch up was really a stupid way for anyone, male or female or anything in between, to prepare him-, her- or itself for a not-date that did not include a man Leia found exceedingly handsome when his foot was removed from his mouth.
Because it was not a date. Not really.
Technically, it was their second not-date.
By the time the knock sounded, most of the hall was clear. Fifteen minutes ago, it was like another world. The situation resembled more the commencement of a battle campaign than the hallway of a dormitory where residents were not allowed candles or ion cannons. Attempting to hunt down a pink sash she had loaned to … what the hell, they all looked the same anyway … Leia had come across not one, not two, not three, but twenty-five rooms chock full of girls preparing themselves for their respective kickoff dates. Hot curling utensils were being volleyed across the open spaces, eye makeup skimmed the floor. The air was heavy, not with the souls of fallen soldiers, but the mustiness of powdered makeup and concoctions of hair stabilizing products.
It was a thicker smell than that of a battlefield, Leia thought.
By the time the knock came, the hall had cleared up. The whole procedure had occurred faster than Leia could pronounce her own name. At one minute to seventeen hundred hours, doors were open and the sounds of floormates barking orders to each other could be heard above the virtuosic rhapsody of hair-drying droids. Then she heard the sounds of twenty-five doors slamming shut at nearly the same moment.
Apparently, every date on campus was arriving at seventeen hundred hours.
When the knock sounded, Ivoen had squealed and thrown her comforter over Stribur's various beauty appliances and products with which she'd been mortally engaged for the past two hours, then sat on the mess with an oof and crossed her legs politely at the ankle. Leia had glared at her and opened the door.
"Hey," Han bent and kissed her cheek, then continued into her room like he'd lived in the place himself before she moved in.
She moved to close the door, when a second face popped into her view and a hand grabbed her elbow. She was about to shove it off – dealing with would-be "partners" here had become a daily chore for her – when she took a better look at the blue eyes and the blonde bangs that fell into them.
She pushed Luke into the hall, closed the door, silently prayed that Han wouldn't do something stupid with Ivoen in the room, and leaned in close to him.
"I thought he was kidding."
Luke's eyes rolled. "Me, too."
"Aren't we being a bit careless here? Me alone is risky enough. The three of us out together is like … something really bad."
"Tell me about it," Luke blew hair out of his eyes. "Except I think I called it 'stupid."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because your boyfriend decided to change the codes on his ship so I couldn't get back in once he made me leave it."
She blew out a breath. "Okay. So we just need to get you back so you can override it."
"Override it? With what, my fingernail?"
"Come on. You can do anything, Luke. I've seen you hotwire speeders and reprogram them in less than ten minutes."
"Number one – " he ticked off a finger " – that was both a prank and a dare. Number two, I had the Rogues' hydrospanner and enough rations to forge a decent electrical conductor. And three, Han's always been a better programmer than me, and I doubt I can access anything he wouldn't want me to."
"Which leaves you here –"
"As the third wheel, yeah."
Leia huffed and crossed her arms, ready to pick a fight with her not-boyfriend, when a slightly Han-ish thought came to her.
"If you can't beat him, Luke – "
"Leia –"
She threw her farmboy a smile, then opened the door and pushed Han out of the way to get a clear line of sight to Ivoen.
"Ivoen, I'd like you to meet your kickoff date, Kiel Lee. Kiel – " she tugged on Luke's hand hard " – meet Ivoen Sorreh, your date for the evening."
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Leia had decided that these really strange and at times superfluous missions for the Alliance had their uses. Besides the inherently pleasing pastime of, say, wearing Han Solo's nerfhide jacket or experiencing what had to be some of the most idiotic amusements known to sentient culture, she could engage in the fine art of watching Luke Skywalker fail miserably in an actual date scenario.
It was truly spectacular.
At dinner, Luke had not only accidentally spilled a glass of water on Ivoen's favorite skirt and suffered from a sort of eye blinking phenomena that left him unable to see out of one eye, he had also made a curious habit of mentioning water whenever his end of the conversation turned dull or disinteresting. Ivoen did an admirable job of nodding and adding in small talk when Luke reiterated his appreciation for her spoiled skirt, but Leia could tell that she, too, was nervous. Her voice fluctuated with the effort of controlling its pitch, so that at times she spoke in the voice of a six-year old Falleen and others like that of a one hundred and sixteen year old Rodian.
And Han and she appreciated it all immensely.
They were seated in a small diner less than a kilometer from the campus. The restaurant, while aimed for the middle-class, was themed like a safer, cleaner dive from Coruscant, complete with large, sweeping bar and short-skirted waitress that did more flitting than walking and called their customers "honey." The lamps were barely lit and the atmosphere seemed musty – less because of bad housekeeping and more because the air filtered through the place seemed recycled and bereft of energy. Nonetheless, the meal had been decent, if only because Luke and Ivoen ceased their conversation, and because the Coruscanti breadcake was much better here than at the university cafeteria.
"So, um, Rimmas, how long have you known Kiel?"
The question from Ivoen was unexpected, if only because Leia had been under the impression that Ivoen didn't want to speak to her again. Ever. "Well, actually, as long as I've known Jace."
Han shook his head. "A bit earlier, actually."
"It's true," Luke chimed in, apparently eager to participate in a decent conversation. "I ran into Rims, introduced her to Jace, and, you know, it kind of went on from there."
"You went after his brother?" Ivoen's eyes glinted. "How cruel."
"Well, no. I, uh – " Leia turned toward Han for assistance. " – I didn't really go after anyone, so. Yeah. Are we all set to go here?"
"No, no. I think Ivoen deserves to hear the full story." Han was smirking and Leia was hating it.
Luke grinned. "Absolutely."
Leia sat back, let the two of them win for once, and tried to be gracious because Ivoen and Luke were starting to relax.
"It all started when Kiel started to follow Rims around when she went on shopping trips and casino runs – "
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"Do you think Kiel likes me at all?"
Ivoen was poised in front of the mirror in the public stadium freshers as she asked the question, but turned towards Leia when she didn't answer the question.
"Of course he does." Leia reapplied her lip makeup for the third time that night. "He's just a little – young, you know."
"How old is he?"
Leia looked up. "Well, uh, nineteen. But he's more sheltered than Jace is and way more conservative."
"Obviously." Ivoen tried to tame down her slightly-frizzed hair. "They don't act anything alike. It's almost impossible to believe they're brothers."
"Yeah." Touché. "Yeah, right."
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Leia had watched smashball. Once. Before Bail had banned it from sheer disgust and a fear that his only daughter would be influenced by the uncensored violence the game inevitably espoused.
She had liked it.
She had liked it a lot.
Watching it now, live, next to Han, Luke, and Ivoen, the experience seemed to have changed. The one time she had watched it, the commentator's remarks had drowned out the other … noise.
If by noise, one meant the profanity slipping out of Han Solo's mouth.
She knew males of her species tended to enjoy contact sports of all kinds, but had never had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand. The court, a smallish mass of yellow at the center of seventy rings of spectators, was almost completely hidden beneath the blurs that Leia was tempted to call the teams, although she wasn't sure who was who or what was even supposed to be happening. She was getting the general feel of the score by Han's comments, which, by his opinion, was achieved despite the Adumari's rather blatant disregard of the rules and a one-sided interpretation of the foul calls.
Or something.
From Han she expected this behavior. It was a safe bet that the most reckless man she knew would be as careless about his language at a smashball game as he was about illegal supply runs for the Rebellion.
What was surprising was the level of language coming from the posterboy of the Rebellion.
Now, granted, Luke's language was not nearly as … creative … as Han's. But she was sure she'd heard a few curses coming from her left, and what sounded to her like some colloquial Huttese, which, by its very nature, was bound to be vulgar.
She filed the apparent proficiency in Huttese away as something to investigate later.
Despite her companions' attempts to insult everything on, or off, the court, she could call their behavior conservative in the midst of the general chaos inside the stadium. Blue and gold flags waved throughout the rings, and various sets of small explosives had detonated inside the building as a means of distracting the players, which, unfortunately, worked more often than not and prompted the expulsion of nearly fifteen separate people from the game. And the general uproar always centered on the surprisingly talented Arik Nemsba. If Leia was correct, Nemsba, number twenty-two, had scored two of the three goals thus far, and had managed to remove an article of his clothing with each succeeding goal his team made.
At this point, he still had, Leia guessed, three more goals to go before he would be down to boxers and helmet. Not that she was complaining.
Best keep that thought to herself, she decided, sneaking a glance at Han.
Then she reconsidered. It was only their second date.
Second not-date.
Not enough for him to get possessive.
That is, if not-dates worked the way regular dates did.
She was beginning to have problems telling the difference.
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"I am not going back there."
Han and Ivoen were both staring straight at her, with Ivoen's attempt at innocence looking much more authentic than Han's.
"Rims, please." Ivoen's voice sounded like it could cut through durasteel. "Let's go."
"I had fun," Han added.
"Of course you did. If you two want to go, go."
Ivoen's face perked up, ecstatic, Leia was certain, in the prospect of going to a frat party with Han on her arm. Han, on the other hand, looked less enthused to be leaving with Ivoen.
He shook his head and grabbed her hand. "The things I give up for you, sweetheart ..." He pulled on her hand to follow him, taking her further away from Luke and Ivoen. Leia spared a glance toward the reluctant pair, held up her other hand for them to wait, and turned around toward Han. She followed him as he pulled her around a building – the library, she thought – and saw him stick out two fingers in front of her face.
"Two things," he said.
Leia nodded.
"Okay, first – " he breathed, grabbed her face and kissed her.
Leia wasn't sure what exactly he thought he was doing, kissing her in the middle of a public place – or something like it, seeing how it was the library and no one ever voluntary went anywhere near it – and being so damn good at it. His hands were cold – freezing – and she was shaking, though she was entirely certain it had nothing to do with the weather. Her hands latched onto his forearms, attempting to stabilize herself and bring him closer to her. He stepped forward, moving his head, and Leia was aware that she had sighed somewhere in the mix, but it felt too good to be this close to him and she closed her eyes and felt herself drowning.
When he stopped, he didn't move his head away and hadn't dropped his hands. She looked up at him; he opened his eyes and grinned at her. She wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to respond to his first request, thinking that whatever he had planned for number two was pretty much a given, considering what she was currently feeling, but he stepped back and reached into his pocket with one hand.
Leia was back to feeling cold.
"And two – " he rummaged around in his pocket for a second, frowned. If Leia had found her voice yet, she might have made a comment about being distracted, but it had decided to evaporate with every gram of common sense she had to her name.
"I found this at the hibridium complex," he grunted, and started checking the pockets in his shirt. "I know it's here."
"This is my datapad? Or my compact? You kept switching names."
"Your earring …"
"My – what?"
"One of your earrings, the tracking ones. It's – ah. Here."
He pulled out a flash of metal, and Leia's chest suddenly shrank. The earring was disassembled, or at least the top half of it was, and the hook had been misshaped.
Her mind flew through the possibilities, denied some of the more ridiculous ones, but finding it difficult to subside the panic that was piling on her shoulders the more she thought about it. She resumed her shaking and her breathing started to go haywire, sputtering through her lips – which had been dancing just a few seconds before – and making her feel like she was suffocating.
"Are you alright?"
She shook her head and rummaged through her purse, grappling around.
"No. Here," she held out the matching red earring, fully assembled and the red shining in the streetlamp light. "Do you see this?"
Han nodded, confused. "Yeah?"
"This is the one I'm supposed to have. That one – " she breathed carefully, then peeked around the edge of the library building, eyeing Luke and Ivoen as they chatted.
"That one was left at the Sorreh's house, hacked into the communications system."
Han's forehead creased. "Okay."
Leia put a hand to her mouth, imagined the walls creeping in on her, felt Vader breathing subsume hers, felt her chest shrink again, her heart pounding, all of her screaming to get out of there as fast as possible.
"We have to get out of here." She dropped her hand, grabbed his arm. "Now. We have to get out of here right now."
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KR does small, little, tiny unglorious dance at the thought of finally reaching a very fun plot point that she's been dying to post since she first thought, "You know, Leia in college sounds like a fun thing to write"…
So, feedback? Por favor? Pajalsta? Please?