AN: The next two chapters (really just two parts of the same thing) represent some lightness and a much needed levity after their recent emotional confrontation, and the overall exhaustive emotional weight Han and Leia have been dealing with since Ord Mantell.

Lovestruck

(adj.) experiencing intense romantic feelings; infatuated and besotted; powerfully affected by the sudden awakening of deep love

With the dilemma of their kiss and the larger impasse of their undisclosed feelings for one another addressed, it freed Han and Leia to tackle the minutia of an unanticipatedly lengthy space voyage. She was fortunate that as a regular traveler on the Millennium Falcon — Han's piloting services and presence universally assumed on her missions at this point — she'd taken to keeping a small convenience kit on board. It was easier than continually carting little things back and for, and it sometimes proved a necessity when the ship had to be diverted, return dates were delayed, or other emergencies occurred.

The presence of her kit already made things simpler, but it contained only the basics for hygiene and presentability. An unplanned multi-week voyage could still have meant other female difficulties, but here Leia was fortunate, too. Though it wasn't luck but careful planning she had to thank; since she'd joined the Rebellion full-time after the Battle of Yavin, she'd opted to receive a contraceptive implant. At the time, birth control was far from a concern of hers — although as a female in wartime all gruesome possibilities had to be considered should she fall into enemy hands — but the implant had the happy bonus of halting a woman's cycle, a monumental benefit when she was frequently running for her life, with zero conveniences and often a ditch, cave, or hidden alleyway as her bed and safe house for the night.

Less auspicious was the clothing situation. She really ought to have stored a go-bag of clothes on the Falcon too, but it was harder to predict what sorts of clothing would be needed for each individual mission. It varied according to planet, location on planet, time, season, local customs, whether it was a more diplomatic or undercover mission, and so forth. She always packed on a case-by-case basis, which left her now with literally just the clothes on her back.

It worked in her favor that Hoth had such an extreme environment, leaving her several layers of clothing to work with. Underneath her snowsuit, Leia had on a set of thermals, with regular leggings and an Alliance standard issue women's athletic tank beneath that. It gave her several combinations to work with. Most problematic was that she had just the one set of Alliance basics: a simple underwire sports bra and no-frills panties. Her initial thought was to go without basics while they were being washed, rotate out the other clothing items in the same manner — though worn on their own they were relatively thin — and just hope all the low-cost fabrics held out to the repeated use for the length of the journey. But, thinking ahead, Han had already anticipated, and solved, the problem.

Those who didn't know him well assumed Han to be gruff, blasé, and likely clueless about women's everyday necessities. Those familiar with him knew he was anything but uncaring, and with Leia in particular he tended to be incredibly solicitous. As in all things with her, he showed exceptional consideration for her needs in a quiet and understated manner: a pile of carefully selected clothing simply showed up on a crew bunk that night without the need of request from her or explanation from him.

In this, Leia benefited from Han's lean body type beyond just the usual visual pleasures it offered. His trim waist and slim hips worked in her favor for making do with his borrowed pants. His height was, of course, problematic, but pants could be rolled many times over and pinned into place if need be. His shirts were huge on her petite frame but could work cinched with a belt over her leggings, or even qualified as short dress length without any bottoms at all. From numerous and now commonplace stints of cohabitation on missions, she was privileged with information few others knew: Han Solo owned and wore such conventional things as sleep pants, shorts, and t-shirts; the ones he gave her now would be a perfect choice for bed. She also happened to know black boxer briefs were his basic of choice, so the stack of hip briefs — and even one pair of micro briefs — he provided her were eyebrow-raising to say the least. As was the image they induced of their original owner wearing them.

The fact that he left all this for her on a crew bunk was in itself the result of a back-and-forth negotiation between them. Han had straightaway offered her his cabin for the duration of their trip; it was the common arrangement on missions flown on the Falcon. Leia had countered with the fact that on this trip there was no one else along with them and no need for privacy concerns when she would be the only one in the crew quarters, and it was outfitted with closing doors the same as his cabin. Han had rebutted that his cabin had a lock and the crew quarters did not, prompting Leia to shoot back with the question of whom exactly he thought it would be necessary for her to lock out. After that devolved into kisses that left them thoroughly off-track, she'd conclusively settled the matter by telling Han she would feel more comfortable not putting him out of his home for weeks on end and simply sleeping in one of the perfectly adequate crew bunks that already surpassed the coziness of her bed back on Hoth. Han eventually capitulated, but reluctantly.

Of course, it had occurred to Leia that they could share his cabin. In the three plus years of knowing each other — more than just knowing, but of intensely close friendship — it was far from an unheard of sleeping arrangement. There had been the tents, sleeping sacks, and trenches of missions gone bad; the occasional cave; once or twice, a tree. But there had also been many actual beds shared over the years, from those in rundown motels to luxury resorts. They'd long since passed the point of taking turns on the couch or floor. They'd even progressed beyond sharing the bed but sleeping head-to-toe, or with a pillow barrier, or whatever other nonsensical and totally ineffective modesty barriers they'd thought up during that first year of missions together. In fact, they'd shared his very bunk on numerous occasions: Falcon flown missions with too many people and not enough beds — on one memorable occasion keeping the Rogues up all night with suppositions, bets, and newly calculated odds; after she'd had nightmares; when the heat had gone out or just been inadequate on Echo Base. First and foremost, even above and beyond their attraction to one another, they were loyal friends, and friends could share a sleeping space without blinking an eye; it was as simple as that.

Yet now, to Leia, it didn't feel so simple, with them taking steps — albeit baby ones — beyond friendship. It put sharing his cabin into suddenly fraught waters. Han had apparently sensed it too, as he'd never once suggested that during their room negotiation.

And, indeed, though they were still just twenty-four standard hours in, Han had faithfully kept his promise to take things slowly, at a pace she set. He'd kissed her good morning, and kissed her goodbye when she took her shift on watch, but those had both been gentle, fairly chaste kisses. The closest they'd come to a repeat of the unrestrained passion of that circuitry bay kiss had been the night before after the comments on his locking cabin door, and even then Han had stopped short after just barely grazing his tongue over hers.

His clear respect for her and devotion to her boundaries touched Leia's heart — and regions further below. She had always expected, she was quickly discovering unjustly so, that if she ever gave Han any sort of greenlight he would waste no time in trying to promptly get her into bed. Finding the actual truth to be just the opposite raised her already high opinion of him, and was frankly sexy as hell. The combination of good man and roguish scoundrel was a lethal one for Leia, especially when it came in the package of Han's looks and charisma; his bravery and aptitude; his humor and sarcasm; and something he would never admit to but that she found hopelessly lovable, his secret goofiness and endearingly disguised blunders.

Han's reluctance to come on too strong and his dedication to her sense of ease and comfort were laudable qualities that had an — what she guessed to be unintended and unknown on Han's part — aphrodisiac effect. But such noble selflessness simultaneously caused a less pleasant twitch of empathy when she sensed the effort with which he was ever so carefully holding himself back.

She wished to take things slowly, yes, but that didn't mean Han wasn't allowed to kiss her in the more heated manner he so perceptibly desired. With her skittishness and the mixed signals she'd sent him over the years, Leia blamed herself for making him think so. Obviously, he felt in danger of her changing her mind about them at any moment. It was a mistaken belief that stood to be corrected, and while alone together preparing an afternoon meal later that day, she pondered over how best to do that.

Han unknowingly gave her the perfect opportunity.

He was smearing slices of bread blue with a generous helping of bantha butter for the grilled houjix cheese sandwiches he was making them when, without warning, Han asked in a low tone, "Can I see your hair down again?"

Leia looked up in surprise from peeling off the lid of a can of pukkha broth. She'd been lost in her own reflections, while concurrently focused on the task of heating up the soup as their accompaniment, and hadn't given a second thought to flitting about the relatively compact food preparation area, skirting close behind, alongside, and reaching across him as they each navigated the small space, fetching items from the cupboard, drawers, and chiller. But now that he'd made her aware of it, there was a thrilling sort of tension in the room.

Han wanted her; recognizing that awoke the same feeling in Leia. His sweetly hopeful request, mixed with an air of desire, was the closest he'd come to trying for more than a gentle kiss — and, being honest with herself, it was a welcome advance. In her heart of hearts, she could admit that she craved being seduced by Han. Just because she wasn't yet ready to bring that seduction to completion didn't mean she wouldn't enjoy his attempts. In short, she imagined that Han Solo really and truly putting the moves on her would be an immensely enjoyable experience.

Pouring the broth into two bowls, she paused to smile coquettishly up at him. "Maybe." And she made sure to skim the side of her arm along his hip as she carried the bowls past him over to the nanowave.

Her tone sold the answer as a provocative one, not quite a 'yes' and not quite a 'no' but an unmistakable invitation to keep trying. "I gotta earn it, right?" he smirked.

Hearing that, Leia placed the bowls inside the nanowave and turned back to face him, dropping her saucy manner and turning serious. "You don't have to earn anything," she told him sincerely. "I've known you for years; you've already proven the caliber of man you are. It isn't about that. I—"

"It's alright, Leia," Han interrupted, affecting a chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I was just jokin' around."

She shook her head. "I don't think you were," she said kindly. "About the earning it, maybe. But not about the request to see it. And that's okay. I've been meaning to say that to you all morning: it's okay to admit what you want. Isn't that what we're doing now? Telling each other what we feel, when we feel it?" she repeated his words from the night before. "It's okay to want the things you want. No more pretending with me, either. You're not going to frighten me away, Han…And you know," she added, whirling back to punch the buttons to start the stove, "wanting goes both ways."

With the nanowave humming to life behind her, Leia crossed back over to his side. "It's okay to say you want to see me with my hair down. I want that, too." And she genuinely did.

It wasn't that she had some deep longing for him to admire how her hair looked loose and free, any more than she guessed it was a particular need of his — though she supposed men did find women's hair sexually attractive. It was about the rare privilege of it, the measured intimacy it signified for anyone familiar with the Alderaanian custom.

Leia had never spelled it out for anyone, not even Winter, but in her adolescence she'd crafted her own unique version of her home's hair tradition. The general rule, at least in its most ancient configuration, was that an Alderaanian woman's hair was always braided or tied up in some fashion until she was married, whereupon it was her husband's wedding-night honor to take it down, and even then, her husband would be the only men to ever see her hair down beyond fathers, brothers, and other close family members.

In modern times, however, that had grown to be considered old-fashioned. At the time of the Disaster, most native women had evolved the rule from 'no men but family ever' to 'no men but family prior to marriage'. Starting with her mother, the royal house too accepted this modern interpretation. A single woman's hair always pinned up in public was something her aunts called a sign of modesty and "maidenhood", but to the planet as a whole it was a symbol of marriage itself. Alderaanian women didn't wear wedding rings, but those you saw in public with loose hair you instantly knew to be married. Of course, many modern Alderaanian women who followed the marriage custom had often let men see their hair down privately, in the same way that most women did not wait for marriage to become sexually active. But in public, those same non-married women continued to braid or pin up their hair.

For Leia, though she hadn't had the chance to live it in practice before her planet's destruction, she had opted to adopt an amalgamation of the public and the private, the modern and traditional practice. She wouldn't wait until marriage to wear her hair loose in public, but she would until she'd taken a lover. In her mind, the two were nearly synonymous; she needn't be married to a man to have sex with him, but she wouldn't have sex with him until the relationship was very serious and viewed as permanent on both sides. Only then would she take her hair down in his presence — and, married or not, she would still largely wear it up in public, as she considered her loose and free hair to be something personal that not all eyes were entitled to at any point.

"I want to have my hair down with you," she reiterated. Admitting as much, even wanting as much, was unprecedented for Leia, much more than she thought he knew. "Just not quite yet."

Nevertheless, not allowing him that yet, maintaining some continued boundaries didn't mean she wanted Han to be restrained around her. "But you don't have to hold back with me," Leia assured him. "I'll tell you if it's too much, too fast." She worried at her thumbnail with her forefinger, debating over delving into this and hoping she could do so without wounding his pride. "It's okay to kiss me."

"I have kissed you," Han answered, sounding nettled. "Twice already today."

"Now who's getting excited, Hotshot? Luckily, we've got plenty of time for anything else," she teased softly.

Frowning, he moved the grill pan, now with the assembled houjix cheese sandwiches, onto the stove. "I would've kissed you more, 'cept we were in different parts of the ship."

"I'm not insulting your virility, Han. I'm saying: it's okay to kiss me the way you want to kiss me."

Intrigued, his brow went up. "Is it now? Sure you know what you're invitin', Princess?" he drawled, moving in closer.

"Hmm, reasonably sure, yes," Leia coyly flirted back. "But shall I rephrase it for you? It's okay to kiss me the way you would have on Ord Mantell."

At that, Han's brow shot clear up to his scruffy bangs. "Ord Mantell, huh? Now I'm sure you don't know what you're invitin'," he said in a deep, velvet baritone that tripped though her veins to settle down low in her core.

He brought his hand to her side, his fingers curling over her lower ribs, and Leia wrapped her own arm about his waist. "Are you, though?" she riposted alluringly.

His other hand went up to the back of her neck and Han bent to kiss her. It started out slow, but with a barely contained sizzle that sparked to the surface when Leia pressed into him and her breasts brushed over his chest. Ignited, he wrapped both his arms fully around her as she brought her hand up to his face, opening her mouth to him and deepening the kiss.

It was then that Chewbacca walked into the galley, stopping in his tracks with a whir of surprise at finding them mid-clinch. Leia turned first, breaking the kiss, and then Han followed suit, looking over in annoyance at the spoiler of yet another moment.

Discovering the Wookiee in the doorway, Leia took a discrete step back so that her body wasn't so fully meshed to Han's, but she remained in his arms as they awaited Chewbacca's reaction.

It was the first time anyone, other than the clueless Threepio, had discovered this new development in their relationship. Would he tease them? Chide them for taking up with each other now, at such an ill-conceived time as this: with Han about to leave, them arguing over it for the past month, and the group of them presently trapped for a standard month to collectively bear the brunt should this thing go south and Leia and Han wind up fighting even more bitterly than before?

Perhaps, Leia supposed, Chewbacca was truly stunned to witness this about-face from his human friends, going from being at each other's throats to at each other's lips. Han's guess was that his partner, who'd been actively encouraging this from the very beginning, resented not having already been told about this change in their relationship status. Either that or it was equally likely Chewbacca was just enjoying watching them sweat.

Whatever the reason, the Wookiee took his time in giving any outward reaction at all. Until at last he barked, [Finally], in long-suffering relief.

"Yeah — finally," Han emphasized, drawing Leia back in till her body was pressed to his again. "So give us a break, pal, and head back to the engineering station and those control panel repairs."

With a nod, Chewie started to leave, but Leia broke from Han's embrace, calling after him. "No, don't go." To Han, she affectionately scolded, "Hush you. We're all stuck together for weeks and weeks. You don't really expect him to have no one but Threepio to talk to?"

"And why not? Goldenrod's got plenty enough to say to fill years' worth of time."

"Oh, Han, stop." She gave a playful shove to his chest that was really more of a teasing graze of her open palm over his peck.

Han suspected it was meant to be purposefully maddening. Intended or not, it had done its job. She'd invited his desire and she more than had it — but now with his copilot as an uninvited chaperone!

"Chewie, stay and have lunch with us."

Correction, invited by one of them, but sure as hells not wanted by him, Han thought.

Chewbacca walked back into the galley, evidently taking Leia up on the offer. She gave him a welcoming smile and shot a taunting wink Han's way, confirming his suspicion that she was deliberately enticing him, the little minx.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to their sandwiches before they burned. This would be a long lunch, he knew, and an even longer — though mutually satisfying — battle of seductive wills until they could finally work some of this tension off in bed.

Chewie had been right; there was no more appropriate word for this trip than finally.

"No hard feelings, pal," Han told him later, once they'd all sat down with their food, he and Leia with the soup and sandwiches they'd made, and Chewbacca with a Factryn meat pie. "It's not that I don't want to see ya, but…you know how it is," he shrugged.

[You wish to be alone with Little Princess], Chewbacca ascertained.

"Well, I don't mind you watchin', but I think she'd have a problem with it," Han quipped, earning a cheerful scowl from Leia.

[Such a thing is understandable, particularly in the beginning. I remember how it was with Malla], Chewie growled wistfully. [It is long past that time for the two of you, even by human standards. I was almost going to let Young Jedi's squadron lock you up together in one of the storage closets.]

"When did that ever work any of the other times?" his partner argued.

"I don't know, Han," Leia cut in slyly, laying her hand on his forearm. She licked her lips and then bit her lower one enticingly. "Once or twice, it came very close…"

The lip thing may have been unintentional, but the way she was rubbing his arm definitely was no accident. He shouldn't have underestimated her in any competition — diplomatic, political, or seductive. "Yeah, so did I," he retorted, and to even things out a little he dipped down into that timbre that drove her mad. "Remember Kala'uun?"

Her blush told him she recalled it well.

It was on a mission to Ryloth about a year ago. Following an unusually successful and lucrative meet-up with a Rebel operative, they'd all gone out for a rare night of leisure and celebration at some of the city's tourist shops and cantinas. After more than a few drinks, things began to descend into debauchery and Wedge had been uncharacteristically persuaded by Janson to lock Han and Leia in one of the by-the-hour privacy cells of a Kala'uun joy cave — with nothing but each other, a bed, and some Zeltron spiced wine.

"I remember," Leia replied in a breathy whisper, her eyes locked on his.

Han had to admit, taking it slow did have its benefits; this anticipatory buildup was certainly one of them. One thing was for sure: when they did finally come together, it would be with enough heat to spark ignition in even the Falcon's broken hyperdrive.