AN: I couldn't resist stealing a single line of dialogue from an old 90s film, a sentence that captured my girlish fantasies. From my youth, I made it my goal to see every Harrison Ford movie. Random Hearts was a truly bad film, but one in which he utters a particular line in such a delicious manner that it has stayed with me through all the years since. If you too sat through that film, see if you can find it.
PEREGRINATION
(n.) a slow, wandering journey; a period of escape and exploration
Only a fool makes the same mistake again and again, Lelila, and thinks somehow the outcome will change. That favorite adage of Bail Organa, one he'd repeatedly told his daughter, ran through her mind now. Well, Father, Leia thought with humor — enjoying the memory, not pained by it, which was happy progress in itself — Han and I are blissfully being fools.
Fully aware it was almost certainly a hopeless task, they were nevertheless spending the day trying yet again to repair the hyperdrive. Leia couldn't help it; as much as she was enjoying herself on this gift of a forced sabbatical with Han, even a perceived shirking of duty simply wasn't in her nature. She couldn't bear to not do everything in her power that she possibly could to get back to the Alliance, fulfill her responsibilities, and see justice for Alderaan. And Han couldn't bear to not do everything he could to make Leia happy. So, fruitless as it surely would be, the pair had stationed themselves in the engineering bay late that morning and set about earnestly trying to fix the parts that were the least destroyed.
They had been at it all afternoon, with a surprising degree of progress. The alluvial dampers were back in passable enough working order, and they'd entirely rebuilt and stabilized the charge planes. While the motivator remained badly damaged, they had managed to restore it from almost nothing back to more than half its working properties. There were ongoing issues with the inter-level conduits, however, which was where their current efforts were focused.
The Falcon's hyperdrive unit was large — more squat than tall, nearly the height of Leia's shoulders — and circular in nature. They'd faced its intricate inner workings with a targeted plan: their heights being what they were, Han worked at the top of the unit while Leia tackled the lower parts; Han started out on one side while Leia worked at the opposite, allowing them to pass tools and glances over the top as they conversed. Over the hours, their repairs had brought them around to each other, meeting in the middle.
Still and all, despite the hard and often frustrating work, they were in good spirits — even doing actual repairs instead of just "canoodling", another of her father's favored euphemisms for the behavior she and Han usually descended into whenever they were meant to be completing a task. They may have been less than diligent soldiers since leaving Hoth, but they didn't mind seriously working now. With a corner of the ship to themselves the entire afternoon — Chewie still had another forty standard minutes left on his shift at watch, and Threepio was occupied running diagnostics in the rear gun turret; purely busy work meant to make him feel useful and keep him out of their hair, not coincidently in a spot as far away from Han as physically possible — they made good use of their alone time while simultaneously being productive.
Happy and laughing, talking with each other as they worked and authentically enjoying one another's company, it reinforced in them both an intense appreciation for the long-nurtured roots of friendship that grounded their relationship and provided a deeper foundation to the visceral passion and immediate physical attraction. They just genuinely liked each other and delighted in time spent together.
"Can you hand me that hydrospanner?" Leia requested from her kneeling position on the deck plates, gesturing with her neck to the FastTurn-3 resting near Han's wrist atop the hyperdrive unit.
Wordless, he grabbed it and passed it down to her, his focus primarily on the piece of conduit he was trying to bend back into place. Leia's fingers brushed his thigh in the handoff, however, the crest of her crown of braids grazing his groin as she bent back to her task, and instantly all of Han's attention was on her.
"Absolutely," he answered belatedly. "Anything else I can give you?" he offered, shooting her a rakish grin.
Leia smirked back — the hair had been inadvertent, the glide of her hand had not — and retorted, "At the moment? No." His overstated disappointment, half pout-half sigh but with an accompanying wink to let her know it was all in good fun, made her laugh. "Come to think of it, you can give me something."
Han's eyebrow rose with interest. "Yeah?"
"Some information."
"'Information'," he repeated with mock distaste.
She retaliated by gently poking his shin with the hydrospanner. "Yes, information. On this supposed friend of yours. Lando Calrizi."
"Calrissian. It's Lando Calrissian, though be sure to call him Rizi; Chewie'll get a kick out of that," he told her with a smile. "Why? What do you want to know about him?"
His tone wasn't quite evasive, but she picked up definite notes of guardedness. "I want to know everything. You've had me a little distracted lately, or I would have asked before now. We're about to drop in on this man unannounced, uninvited, and entirely at his mercy. Under Alliance protocol this would be labeled a high risk mission."
Han shook his head in the negative. "You don't got to worry about Lando. Think he invented the phrase 'lover not a fighter'. Besides, hyperdrive or not, I wouldn't be bringing you there if I thought you'd be in any real danger."
There was the slightest pitch to his voice at the end that made her sense she may have faintly hurt or insulted him by incidentally implying any sort of lackadaisical approach to her safety. "I know that, I do," she soothed. "But you know how prepared I like to be in these situations."
"Yeah," he snorted, "I'm familiar with your four-in-the-morning briefings. Not much to tell, though. Like I said, he's a gambler, smuggler, scoundrel like me — that about covers it." Picturing Leia meeting Lando for the first time, no doubt all polished and sleek and adorned with his latest fashion-statement cape, Han had to rethink his last statement. "Actually, Lando's nothin' like me."
"Well, that's promising, at least," she teased, shooting him a wry smile as she got up to fetch a tool from the box this time.
"He's a mercenary. He's done some work for Jabba, too." Han waited until she was beside him again, though still naturally well beneath him, to finish. "But sabacc's his drug of choice. He started out young, took to cards the way I took to racing."
Leia considered that as she crouched back down, fusioncutter now in hand. "When you talked about the mining colony at Bespin you said he 'conned somebody out of it'. That's not a very encouraging choice of words if we're meant to trust this man."
"We don't got to trust him, just use his port," Han sardonically pointed out. "Our credits talk as well as anyone's, and Lando's not a bad guy. He's just a grifter, a con man more than anything else. He's always got something cooking. He'd call himself a gambler, and he is professionally rated…but let's just say he ain't exactly honest about it."
"Meaning he cheats," Leia muttered, her face buried in the open panel as she worked.
"Meaning he cheats," Han confirmed. "That's how we met. He won the Falcon in one of his high-stakes tournaments, but back then he didn't know the first thing about flying. He needed a skilled pilot to show him the ropes."
She straightened back out of the panel, blowing a stray piece of hair off her forehead. "And that's where you came in."
"One thing about Lando: he's got fancy taste, always wants the best. And when you want the best pilot, you come to me." He looked down at her with a smug smile. "You know all about that, dontcha, Princess?"
"When I want the most conceited pilot, maybe," she grinned, tugging playfully at the leather of his tie-down.
"Nah, Lando's got me beat there."
"He sounds like quite a character. How did you ever get him to give up the Falcon?" Leia got up to her feet, wiggling the left one that had fallen asleep, and gave a mock gasp of inspiration as if just figuring out the answer to her question. "Oh but wait, you said he had high tastes, so he probably couldn't wait to get the old girl off his hands."
Han bit back a smile but the amusement shone through on his face. "You're very cute, Worship, when you're being a wiseass." He ran his finger over her jaw, leaving a smudge of grease on her pretty chin that made him smile triumphantly.
Leia swiped it away and stuck her tongue out at him, a gloriously childish gesture she hadn't been carefree enough to indulge in since she was eleven.
Han's thoughts at the sight were far from childlike. He caught her by surprise, swooping down and capturing that perfect wasaka berry pink little tongue in his mouth and sucking it a tempting moment before just as quickly returning to his full height.
She gave him a breathless look of question and he merely shrugged self-assuredly. "Hey, you can't tempt a guy and not expect him to take the bait. Especially when he's a scoundrel."
Leia laughed; he truly relished that she'd called him that and would seemingly never get over it. "Fair enough," she accepted. But when Han turned back to the repairs on his open panel, she craftily stretched a hand up to cup his firm backside, giving it a soft pat before withdrawing, a gesture that instantly took the smug wind out of his sails. "Now back to your friend, Lando."
"No, let's get back to those fingers of yours." It was the first time Leia had touched him that way and he wasn't about to gloss over it. He grabbed for her hand, but she put the discarded hydrospanner in his instead. Han tossed it back atop the hyperdrive unit without a second thought. "Nu-uh, Highness, you can't sidetrack me so easily. What was that? Felt an awful lot like gettin' fresh with me. If I ask nicely, will you do it again?"
She ought to have known he wouldn't let her get away with such a move without comment. "That was turnabout, Captain," she answered. A flare of impish lust gleamed in her eyes. "As you said, you can't tempt a person and not expect them to take the bait."
"Tempt you?" Han stretched out his arms in exaggerated innocence. "I was just standing here."
"In your skintight bloodstripes. That's temptation in itself, and you know it; that's why you wear them so tight."
It honestly wasn't before, not entirely, but it sure would be now. Han bent to kiss her again, but she evaded.
"Mm-mm, we're being good mechanics today; we promised Chewie." She gestured to the broken hyperdrive, indicating he should get to work as she did herself, bending back down and busying her hands within the charge planes.
"Tell me how you got the Falcon from Lando," she urged, both to distract him enough to return to his work and because she was genuinely curious. "I know you won it at sabacc, but how did you manage to if Lando is such a gifted con man? Or was that particular game your con?"
"Lando loves to say it was," Han bristled, "but we both know I—" He directed his infamous finger point at himself for once to indicate his veritable victory. "—won her fair and square. I don't need to cheat. Sweetheart, you've played with me; you know I'm just that good."
"You are an excellent strategist," she conceded. "But you don't quite rise to the level of 'that good'. No one could possibly be as good as you think you are. Not even you."
"Might be right about that…" He aimed a grin her way, always thrilled by Leia's sharp comebacks and cleverness. "There was no big con with the Falcon, though. Just a straight game where I outplayed him. But I didn't win her right away. She was Lando's for a while. His 'high tastes' are the reason you enjoy that water shower in the fresher, and our larger than average bunk."
Leia didn't miss that he called it 'our', but she let it pass without expressing how much she like the sound of that. "So you weren't the first to make upgrades then?"
"The first where it counted. Lando never did a thing to enhance her speed, engines, hyperdrive, defense shields, blasters — none of it. Lando's not a real pilot, not in the heart of him, so he was only interested in improving the surface stuff. But learning to fly did open doors for him. He started getting some smuggling gigs, and we ran in the same circles. Had some good times together over the years, I gotta say." Han chortled to recall the incident with the Tonnika sisters. When Leia gave him a curious look, he explained still chuckling, "There was this one time, with these identical twin sisters, where—" Her expression stopped him mid-sentence.
"Yes?" she prompted with an air of mostly feigned jealousy.
Han shook his head. "'S not important — not what you think, either. I'll tell you that story some other time. Point is, we got on well enough, Lando and me. In a friendly-rivalry sort of way."
"Rivalry?" She gave him a raised-brow glance. "This is sounding better and better. Tell me the truth, Han: what are the odds Lando shoots us on sight the moment we enter Bespin's atmosphere?"
"I never listen to odds, remember?"
"Again, not encouraging."
"You were pretty encouraged when I flew us through that asteroid field," he countered.
Leia smiled at that, still impressed by flying skills such as she'd never before seen. "I was last night, too…" she slyly returned. This time the look she gave him was full of hot intent.
The evening prior, she'd been assigned the final watch before Threepio took the overnight shift. Han had come to keep her company, and they might have been blasted out of the sky for all that they'd been paying attention to their surroundings.
"There were several hundred credits back on Hoth placing the odds on that in 'impossible' range, and I'm thoroughly delighted you didn't listen," Leia told him in sassy flirtation.
Throughout her watch she'd dropped several hints, assorted variations on how much she loved it when he licked and nibbled her ear. Han had known what she'd been getting at but enjoyed teasing her too much to give in right away. Until she finally outright asked him to suck on her earlobe. Her bold, aroused request was more than he could take — and something the majority of the Rogues had wagered against with their Kiss or Kill? bets. That Leia would eventually give in to Han was running 60/40 in favor at last count, but that she would ever be the one to do the propositioning was a solid 90/10 against.
Han turned a seductive smirk her way and shuffled a few steps closer. "Wanna beat some more odds?" he offered suggestively.
"Later. Right now, I want you to reassure me about Lando."
"That's easy," he dismissed. "Lando's got no problem with me."
He very purposely didn't mention that the last time they saw each other — about a standard year before Han picked up a certain fateful job in Mos Eisley — they had something of a falling out after he bedded a woman Lando was interested in. That alone wasn't anything new; they often stole women out from under each other, running with the same crowds and out for a similar take. There was nothing remarkable about Han showing interest in easy sex with a reportedly skilled partner, and yeah, one-upping Lando was an added bonus. Except the lady in question was rich, and Lando's talent at charming females — human or otherwise — being what it was, Lando had been certain she was his meal ticket to fortune. Until Han had the nerve to get there first, and the balls to cut out immediately afterwards. That's what really got to Lando. If Han had been on the take too, it would have been a stinging loss but something he could understand, respect even. When it was just quick sex, Lando figured Han could've had that with any women, and choosing his mark was purposefully spiteful. To top it off, Han had also pirated Lando's smuggling gig away in the process.
Though they hadn't parted on the best of terms, Han didn't think there would have been a rush to draw blasters if they'd run into each other since. Nor did he suppose they'd been actively trying to avoid each other. He had been busy with the Rebellion, while Lando had been administering an outpost at Cloud City. It was reasonable enough then, Han told himself, to assume he wasn't lying to Leia about any score to settle between them, and that it was merely time and circumstance, not animosity, that had kept the former friends at odds.
"The Falcon was a fair win. There's no bad blood over it." Of that, he was certain; Lando was many things, but not a sore loser. "It was just a standard sabacc game in a dive cantina, typical spacer stuff, only that time the cards weren't in his favor. Simple as that. Lando could've tried to renege but at least with me, for a change, he was a man of his word….Think he knew I always wanted her."
He would have denied it, but Leia saw Han steal a reverent glance around the ship, his gaze sliding over bulkheads and deckplates the way other men would look into their lover's eyes. "A match made in all the galaxy's heavens, hmm?" she fondly remarked.
"Something like that, yeah," he responded, clearing his throat. "Lando called the Falcon an eyesore, never appreciated her the way I did. She was in need of some work, sure, but she had good bones, a lot of potential for a man with vision. Still, even without being shiny and new, a freighter is a freighter, and Lando understand the loss there, but he was a good sport about it. Course that was before my modifications. Long before the Kessel Run made her famous and the whole galaxy learned how this bird can fly."
"The Falcon aside, while Lando was partaking in all these con artists' schemes, you really never had any of your own takes?" Leia probed skeptically. "You were, after all, both mercenaries. Doesn't that sort of thing come with the territory?"
"I may have skimmed off the top of a cargo load a time or two — or three. And I would've sold out a client in a heartbeat if the money was right," Han admitted without ignominy. "But I had no hand in rigging sabacc games, if that's what you mean. That sort of thing wasn't 'in my purview'," he said, emphasizing the last.
Leia snorted. "Quoting Dodonna now, are we?"
"Defending shitty behavior by saying at least I wasn't shittier seemed like the appropriate time." While they'd been talking Han had noticed her wrestling a stubborn coil that wouldn't come loose, and seeing she still couldn't get it, he set down his own spanner. "Here, let me help you with that," he said, squatting down beside her to lend a hand.
There was a time, early in their acquaintance, when Leia would have taken umbrage at such a move and not allowed it. But she recognized fairly quickly that with Han, unlike far too many of her male colleagues, such an offer wasn't because he thought her weak or incapable. He was merely helping out, one mechanic to another, in just the same way that she often helped Han when a space was too small for him to crawl into, or the piece he was working with was frustratingly tiny for his big hands. By now, there was as much give and take in their side-by-side work routine as there was in their friendship as a whole, and Leia scooted aside without a second thought to let him work at the coil.
"Never saw the point in fixin' cards," Han returned to the topic at hand as he reached in to give the part a simultaneous twist and tug. "Every card game is already a take: you bluff, and you misdirect, and you read your opponent right out of their credits. That's where the sport is. There's no fun in cheating. Long as you know what you're doin'—" He grunted as the coil came loose with a sudden pop. "—you're walking away with a pocket full of credits anyway."
He passed the stubborn helix over to Leia. "Closest I ever came to one of Lando's scams was a gambit I had going with Chewie for a while, but even that was more strategy and psychology-for-the-upper-hand than any actual cheating."
"Hmph," she chided, setting to work on repairing the damaged coil now that it was free of its plate, "so what you're saying is you were a master strategist just for a lark…And you wonder why I used to get so mad at you for refusing a commission with the Alliance."
"It wasn't 'just for a lark'. There were credits at stake. Else I wouldn't've been there."
"A sound argument," Leia granted, "although, I'd counter with the fact that an Alliance commission does come with a salary." She let that insinuation hang in the air a moment before going on. "I'm curious: how did your gambit work? Now's your chance to brag about how brilliant you are."
"Never said it was brilliant," Han qualified as he finished with his part and moved to close up the top panel. "It rode on the assumption that beings are predictable and stupid — and that works every time."
She looked up from her work, treating him with a nodding glance of concurrence. "I'm sorry to say, from my time in the Senate, I understand your point well."
"And I used that to my advantage. Wookiees are known for how strong they are, right?"
Since both Leia's hands were busy, she gave a confirming tilt of her head. "The Empire certainly knows they are," she alluded to their enslavement and use as free labor.
"Yeah, and that gives 'em a reputation." Han shook his head in cynicism. "Despite no Wookiee I've ever met actually deserving it. Take Chewie."
"He's the sweetest creature I've ever known," Leia finished his thought. "Except perhaps Luke."
He snickered at her addendum. "Exactly. Unless you cross him, Chewie wouldn't hurt a blister gnat."
"And even then, the gnat must have had it coming," she interjected with a warm smile for the Kashyyykian member of their space family.
Han brandished a grin of endorsement. "But unless they personally know a Wookiee, beings don't believe that. They'd never buy that between the petite human princess and the two-and-a-quarter meter, fanged Rwook, the Wookiee is the gentler by far."
"That's because beings don't know the petite princess well, either," she retorted.
"I'm glad I do," he affirmed, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "So this is how it went: you know the whole thing about how Wookiees are sore loser who'll rip out your arms?"
"The stereotype, yes," she returned, "and I think the Empire is at least half responsible for the circulation of that belief. What you said earlier about defending shitty behavior applies."
"And like most stereotypes, that one hasn't a lick of truth to it. But it makes gullible, narrow-minded beings fear Wookiees on sight. Chewbacca's got the wisdom to use that to his advantage, so the setup was easy money. Me and Chewie would both buy into a game," Han described his ruse, "and I'd start casually throwing it out there that Chewie's got a long history of arm-ripping after a bad loss. Scared the druk out of anyone who was playing against him, so worried about Chewie they'd get distracted; it totally threw off their game. They'd be so focused on him that they didn't pay any attention to me, and I'd win every time. Except for the few times we agreed I'd let him win so people won't wonder why he wasn't ripping my arms."
"And no one ever saw through this?" Leia wondered. She handed Han the finished coil, figuring since she'd had difficulty removing it she may have the same replacing it. "That's a sad commentary on our galaxy."
"The certain element we were hanging with, anyway."
She gave him another raised-brow look. "The 'certain element'? That makes two of Dodonna's pet phrases in less than five minutes."
"But 'a certain element' sounds so much more poetic than 'a bunch of smugglers, criminals, and spice heads', don't you think?" he quipped.
"Yes," she returned dryly, "because that's what Jan is most known for: his moving, poetic oration."
That made Han smile. Their entire conversation — the whole afternoon, really — had reinforced how much he loved her quick wit. "Guess not," he grinned, bending low to see into the charge plates. "But round the cantinas, I'd become known for my moving, poetic sabacc skills. Until someone finally did see through us, or at least started questioning it, since no one had ever witnessed Chewie actin' that way. And once one guy publically — loudly, repeatedly — raises a point, others start to agree. Particularly when they've all lost piles of credits."
"Well, it was good setup while it lasted," Leia commended. Despite the underhanded nature of it, she had to admit she was impressed, and it wasn't as if the beings in question hadn't had it coming for so readily jumping to prejudiced conclusions. "I hope you took those bigoted gamblers for every credit you could."
"Oh, believe me, Sweetheart, we did. It was plenty lucrative for plenty long. Once we were made, we were both ready to call the thing, but then—" He paused for effect, paused in his work too, shooting her a wickedly self-satisfied smirk. "—I got an idea. See, I have this old friend, another smuggler. Riyec Reed's his name, but what's important is that he's a Besalisk. And not just any Besalisk: a Besalisk who was born with only three arms."
Already guessing where this was going, Leia's eyes widened with hilarity. "You didn't!"
"I did."
His confirmation brought with it a rush of feeling, such deep and utter tenderness for this ridiculous, adorable, multifaceted man before her.
Anyone could see at a glance that Han Solo was a handsome, rugged maverick who exuded raw, virulent masculinity and sex appeal. Capable, skilled, charismatic and appealing — those were all obvious givens. Very few were ever privileged to know of his silly, fun-loving side. Even fewer got to actually experience it. She considered herself extremely lucky to be amongst that miniscule, fortunate number. "You are a nerfherder," she admired on a besotted giggle.
Han's smile was no longer smug but thoroughly smitten, endeared by her heartfelt laughter and mirthful enjoyment of his story. "Yep, for a cut of the credits we got him to play along."
Leia lightly nudged his arm with her shoulder and asked affectionately, "How do you come up with these things?"
"Aw, Worship, that one wasn't even hard. You should see me do something really brilliant." He waggled his eyebrows at her temptingly.
"I have." Her expression radiated love as she looked at him. "Many times."
Han shaped his hand around her leg, stroking a soft circle with this thumb. He started to lean towards her, about to forget it all — resetting the coil, fixing the hyperdrive, even telling his story — and give over to the flirtation they'd been toying with all afternoon. At the last moment he managed to wrench himself from the spell with an addled shake of his head that brought a smile to Leia's lips.
"So you convinced them your friend was a past victim of Chewie's arm ripping…." she prompted, encouraging Han to continue his tale.
"Not a past one. An in-person, before-their-eyes victim." Remembering the success of past shenanigans was an effective distraction, and his narrative was re-enlivened as he got back into the story. "We found this fake prop arm and staged a scene at Chalmun's. Riyec beat him out of a thousand credits, and Chewie proceeded to rip out Riyec's 'arm' in front of the whole crowd and throw it across the cantina. We had fake blood and everything. Can't even say it was all about the credits at that point. Part of it was for a lark."
"I'll bet," she answered with jollity, thoroughly tickled by it all. "I wish I could have seen their faces! And it worked? They were afraid of Chewbacca again after that?"
"For a bit." Han almost forgot himself again, enjoying her smile much too much for effective concentration on intricate repairs. He canted his head, entranced, but bent back to the charge plate before he could change his mind. "Course it would never work at Chalmun's now. Between the bucketheads running around and Jabba's goons, no one blinks an eye at flying limbs or straight-up murder nowadays. But back then, a display like that kept us in steady sabacc credits for a good year or so. There," he announced as he finished replacing the coil. "'Fraid that's all we're gonna be able to do."
Leia nodded in agreement and grabbed the edge of the access panel, swinging it closed. Without glancing over, Han immediately started fastening it into place.
"Just don't have the materials we need to fix the rest," he acknowledged, "if it could even be done." He screwed in the last pin, then turned to look at her — and stopped short.
His shirt that Leia had on was so long on her — more the length of a dress than a tunic — that she'd been left sitting on it as she worked. Trapped beneath her, when she'd reached up to close the panel she must have overstretched the shirt, causing its upper fastener to come undone.
While Han found nearly everything Leia did alluring, he was utterly captivated by the sight of her now: the way the exposed swells of her breasts rose and fell on her soft breaths; the creamy smooth expanses of skin that looked oh so warm and inviting until the only thing he could comprehend was how much he wanted to burrow his face into their silken suppleness.
Even so, Han attempted to solder on with his thought. "The hyperdrive field guide looks to be totally shot, and I'm not sure that the…the—"
Leia's gaze swung from checking the tightness of the panel's seal over to Han, curious at his mid-sentence pause.
Observing the inquisitive scrunch of her eyebrows, he had enough wits left about him to try to cover his lustful preoccupation. "I, uh, I just think that...that...um…."
Leia followed Han's eyes downward to see what had him so transfixed he was beyond coherent speech, and found the neckline of her shirt had fallen down to expose a good half of her Alliance-issue bra, along with a significant portion of cleavage. She smiled in tender amusement as she realized she was the distraction.
"Oh." There was no scandalized rush to cover herself; she merely casually pulled the shirt back into place, feeling for the open closure. "Sorry." The pleased flush of her cheeks belied that assertion.
In fact, when Leia finished refastening the clasp and met his eyes with the look of a vixen, a spider quite pleased at the outcome of finding him caught within her web, the satisfaction was so blatant on her face that Han had to laugh. "Sweetheart, you don't look very sorry."
She shook her head, smirking. "No. I guess I'm not."
Han flashed her a devilish grin of his own and took hold of her arms, gently guiding them both from resting on their legs up unto their knees where he could better align their bodies. "I think you like driving me crazy," he amorously asserted.
"I absolutely do. Always have."
"Good thing you like it so much. 'Cos it's a condition you've got me in pretty much all the time." He skimmed his hands down her sides and drew her to him by her hips. "At a moment's notice…one look, one touch…and I'm completely out of my mind."
Leia wrapped her arms around his neck, using the leverage to press herself against him. The warmth of her breath lit Han on fire as she touched her lips to his ear and whispered, "Then let's make you crazy."
They fell into one another easily — the heat of the other's mouth, the press of the other's body, the magnetic pull that was there between them from the very start. By the time Han laid her back flat against the floor, Leia hadn't a single thought for the potentially grimy state of the deckplates. Dirt and engine grease were the furthest things from her mind when he was kissing her like that: impassioned, as if she were the very air he needed to breathe.
His hunger fueled her own and she pushed her fingers up into his hair insistently, one hand riffling through the softness of his wayward locks, the other griping at the nape of his neck, holding his mouth to hers should he get any idea of relenting even the tiniest bit.
They went on in that state for an indeterminate amount of time — she always lost track of time, and everything else, when they were together this way — until the slide of his tongue against hers was so inflaming it was all she could do to keep still. Want had become need. That need remained nebulous; she couldn't put it to words exactly, but at the moment it boiled down to more. More of this, more of him: more friction, more pressure, a driving demand for more rising up from somewhere deep inside.
Han's arms bracketed her body, an elbow resting on either side of her. He was leaning over her but kept his chest above hers, kept their lower bodies carefully apart, his hips alongside hers on the deckplates. All at once that contributed to her feeling of not enough, to that need for more.
She pulled at him, tugged at his shirt near his ribs, even took fistfuls in her hands, urging him to roll atop her as she craved. The action sparked him to further fervor, but he didn't take the hint. Leia tried again, this time endeavoring to take matters into her own hands. Hooking two fingers into his gun belt, she pulled in an attempt to physically haul him up off the floor and onto her, but the angle was bad and he proved too heavy.
Han made a sound in response and moved his hand to wander up her thigh, his kisses trailing down her neck. It still wasn't the action she needed and the yearning became so strong that Leia finally verbalized it, the daring request springing from her lips almost of its own volition. "Han, get on top of me."
His lips stilled against her throat. "W—" he faltered. It sounded like an invitation, but in his current aroused state everything had a sexual overtone to him, so she likely hadn't said what he thought he'd heard. He lifted his head to look down at her with dazed, lust-addled eyes. "What?"
"Lie on top of me," she repeated breathlessly.
As when presented with all things that seem too good to be true, Han waited for the catch. "…Y'sure?"
"Yes, yes," she assured him with restless impatience, so wound up she was tense with it. He'd awakened something inherent and urgent in her that insisted on satisfaction. "Roll on top of me."
He continued to stare at her uncertainly. Of course that was what he wanted — Leia naked in his bunk all the way to Bespin was what he wanted — but such a position was hardly conducive to 'taking it slow', as she'd said she wanted. On the other hand, here she was, not just consenting but outright asking for more, and you don't look a gift bantha in the mouth.
His gaze locked on Leia's, Han slowly moved his body over hers.
He continued to support himself up on his arms, however, hovering above her without contact, and the more cried out, imploring and rapacious. Leia shook her head. "Not above me. On top of me," she reiterated. Her tone dropped to a smoky whisper. "I want to feel you, the length and the weight of you on top of me. I need your hips bearing down on mine," Leia hungrily professed. Done waiting, she took ahold of his hips and pulled them down onto hers.
The feel of Leia, warm and real, beneath him — the curved softness of her body tantalizing his every place they touched — was a fantasy come to life, powerful and all-consuming, even more so after such protracted celibacy. At the very second of contact his cock jumped eagerly, his whole body quaked a little.
Leia didn't miss his tremble, or the almost stricken expression of ecstasy-mingled-with-torment that had overtaken Han's features. It was a novel and intriguing development, one that gave her a heady sense of power and singularity — to know that her body could so easily elicit such a strong reaction out of his, an experienced man well into his thirties, far from a hormonal teenager. It left her feeling desirable and omnipotent, sentiments that served to further stir her.
She wiggled beneath him and a groaned, "Oh fuck", spilled from Han's lips.
Leia gave a husky laugh. "It feels a bit like it, doesn't it?"
Han moved against her, a reflexive nudge of his hips that inadvertently proved the need went both ways; now she was the one releasing a sound of helpless pleasure. It only added to his, but he remained apprehensive for her sake. He wasn't totally clear on if and where lines remained that shouldn't be crossed. Plus she was such a little thing, a biological fact that seemed all the more apparent when she was beneath him, engulfed by his much larger body.
"You sure you can breathe?" Han continued to hold the majority of his weight of off her, concerned it was too much for such a tiny woman. "'M not crushing you?"
"Mmm, no, no," Leia assured him around a sigh. "It's good; it's really good. Come here. Closer." She wrapped her arms around his back and drew him down further until he finally gave way and let his body be entirely plastered against hers.
The feel of her breasts pressing into his chest was Han's final undoing. "Kriff, Leia," he murmured in a rush before reclaiming her mouth, kissing her frantically. His hands made their way to her hips, holding her desperately to him, intensifying the contact in a delectable way that made her moan softly.
He moved his attentions across her jaw, just about to take her earlobe between his lips, when Leia asked, "Remember this year's combat recertification?"
It took Han a few seconds to process that, wrap his mind around the breathily spoken words, but once he did he knew instantly what she was referring to. He lifted his face and meet her eyes with a smile that made it clear 'remember' was an understatement. "Yeah. Wouldn't call that forgettable."
As frequent mission partners, they'd been training together for years in hand-to-hand combat. For Leia, it was a requirement with the Alliance; for Han, it was a requirement to keep her safe. In their time on Hoth, the primary focus had been on escaping a situation where a larger assailant — which in Leia's case meant nearly every assailant — overpowered you and had you trapped. Echo's recertification trails had been the first time she'd successfully mastered the maneuver they'd been practicing.
More to their current point, in the process, it had led to Han pinning Leia to the mat, and even under those conditions it was distracting. The circumstances then were nothing like they were now. Their feelings weren't out in the open, the situation wasn't romantic, and the physical contact wasn't intentionally sexual in nature. Still, he'd wanted her, badly.
"This is what I wanted to be doing," she divulged with a look of dreamy desire that set a fresh rush of blood to his groin. "I wanted that this year….and every year before."
The first certification trail had been six months after Yavin, so that tracked. The times when he'd teasingly accused her of enjoying their exercises were too numerous to count, as were Leia's denials, but there was no mistaking the heat in her eyes or the quickening of her breath whenever they ended up in close, provocative positions.
"I knew you were hot for it," Han crowed, allowing himself a moment's satisfaction of bragging swagger before kissing her quickly and confessing, "I wanted that, too. Gods, how I wanted you."
"I've wanted you for so long," Leia continued in her soft, unburdening admission; it was freeing to get it all out there, to no longer have to pretend. "I've lost track of how long. It seems like it's just a part of me, a given, to yearn for you, ache for you. People call me the Ice Princess, but I'm far from it. You have no idea how much I've wanted to let go, let myself be swept up by all you stir in me. No one would ever call me that again if they knew even half the thoughts I've had about you."
Ignited, Han's eyes darkened to a deep, burning green and he exhaled an audibly shaky breath of raw hunger. Their desires seemed to feed off each other: Leia's sigh instantly followed; her body so worked-up he could actually see the excited thrum of her pulse in her throat. He set his open mouth to it — sucking the pulse-point, kissing across her throat, nibbling along her collarbone and all the way down to the edge of her bra. It had been so long for Han — and this was Leia, finally, lying soft and hot and eager beneath him. It set off a nearly overwhelming craving to reach down, take hold of her legs and wrap them around him. He had to actively force himself not to.
But it seemed the impulse was mutual; with a soft sound of surrender, Leia drew open her right thigh. It was tentative — a far cry from wantonly spreading her legs and coiling them about his waist, the way he'd imagined — but it was enough to allow her to curl one of her legs around his, satisfying the need to be closer, to further intensify the pleasure, gratify the building pressure at their juncture.
Their gazes met for one electrifying moment, then he brought his mouth back to hers and they were kissing ravenously again. Leia ran her stockinged foot up and down the back of his calf, mimicking the stroke of their tongues, and with a lustful grunt, Han slid both his hands beneath her bottom. He cupped her ass, raised her hips up against his, had the primal urge to nudge her legs the rest of the way open and thrust into her until they both found passionate oblivion.
That was the sight Threepio encountered when he came tottering in from the ring corridor.
Seeing Leia laid out on the deckplates with Han's mouth fastened to hers, small moans emanating from the tangled pair, he deduced an injury must have befallen the princess during their repairs, some unfortunate accident from which she needed to be resuscitated.
"Mistress Leia!" he cried in alarm.
Han was known for being instantly alert, but he was so lost in Leia that it took him a spell to realize what was happening around them — that there even was an 'around them', or indeed anything else in the galaxy beyond each other. Gradually, their surroundings reformed, like waking up from one of his more vivid sex dreams. Except Leia was much too warm and real. And Threepio never showed up, not even in his nightmares.
Han automatically curled his body around Leia's in a shielding stance as he raised his head to growl at the droid. "Get outta here."
Ignoring him or not hearing at all, Threepio gibbered on in a panic. "Oh dear, oh dear! What calamity has occurred?! How can I be of a—"
"GET. OUT." Han's menacing command was controlled, not shouted, and all the more ominous because of it.
"Sir, I cannot and will not abandon my mistress while she's incapacitated," Threepio insisted, "suffering in the throes of a grave injury and at mortal peril! To do so would be against all my protocol. I could never—"
"Threepio," Leia stopped him before his theatrics brought in Chewie, as well.
She was no less frustrated or left in the lurch by the interruption than Han, but Leia was infinitely more well-versed in 'politeness at all times'. She nudged Han off of her and rose to her feet to get control of the situation.
Carefully patting her hair back into place was the only discernable sign she betrayed of any self-consciousness. "As you can see, I am not incapacitated."
"Oh, thank the Maker!"
"There is — and was — no medical emergency," she assured him.
Han got up, albeit more stiffly, to stand beside Leia. "Ya hear that? She's not hurt. So you can leave. Now."
"Are you certain?" Threepio persisted. "The situation seems unorthodox, and I see what appears to be fresh bruising on the princess's neck."
Pointing out emerging love bites was the final straw. "Kest!" Han shouted, tearing a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Would you shut up?!"
"But Captain Solo, it is my duty to inform you that proper resuscitation should be performed from the victim's side, not atop them. The additional weight will only serve to exacerbate the—"
"I'm gonna space him, Leia," Han warned, making a move towards the droid.
"No you're not." She grabbed his arm and tugged him back. "He doesn't realize, Han."
"He's an etiquette droid." Han tried his best to adjust himself in now painfully tight pants while maintaining some level of inconspicuousness. "Shouldn't he know it's not good etiquette to bust in on us, again, and keep going on like that?"
"He doesn't realize what he's walked in on." Leia turned her attention back to the droid whose golden face somehow emoted lingering anxiety. "Threepio, you may go now. I assure you, I'm fine. Truly. I wasn't injured."
When he still hesitated, she suggested, "Perhaps you could check the latest trajectory and ETA stats so I can include them in today's report, should we ever regain remote communication capabilities." She sweetened the pot by adding, "It would be of great help to me."
Given a vital task, puffed up with a sense of purpose and importance, Threepio hurried off with a determined stride toward the cockpit.
"Hells," Han muttered once he was gone. "You'd think specializing in protocol would've meant some kind of protocol on male/female human interactions."
Leia shook her head with a chagrined smile even as she kept half an ear toward the hallway should Threepio double back. "It's our fault, not his. Proper protocol never would have allowed him to walk in on such a scene in the first place."
Han sidled up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "Never said I was proper." He bent low to nibble her ear. "That's why you like me."
"Could be, partly," she allowed, "but we're both to blame for this. You kissed me first, but I was the one who asked you to lie on top of me."
"You could ask me again…." He punctuated the offer by tugging her earlobe with his teeth, trailing the gentle bite with the sweep of his tongue.
"Stop that," Leia laughingly rebuffed. She turned in Han's embrace to face him, gliding her hands low over his hips to the small of his back. "I know what you're doing, and we can't start things back up now. If we don't get to the cockpit to take a look he's only going to come back down here to find us."
Han huffed out a longsuffering sigh. "Fine," he grumbled. "Still think we're better off spacing him. Or we could use him for parts. I bet something in there would make a great conduit."
Later that night, after cleaning up following a long day of work, sweat, and grease from crawling — and later lying — about the deckplates, a freshly showered Leia headed to the number three hold to do some laundry.
Situated on the opposite wall of the galley, there was already access to a plumbing hookup from this hold, so it was naturally where Lando had the autovalet installed, a rare luxury for a ship of this size and nature. If she knew nothing else about the man, that bit of foresight and good judgement was at least encouraging.
And very appreciated right about now.
The clothing she'd been wearing when they left Hoth could be fashioned into just a couple of different outfits, and only a small selection of the articles Han had provided her were actually functionally wearable on her much smaller frame. That meant it was time to do some wash before she had nothing left at all to put on.
She giggled fondly to herself remembering how when she'd told Han of that intention he'd argued that he was "all in favor of you wearing nothing". She'd countered with the objection that nudity would be much too cold on his drafty ship — an assertion he pretended wounded him to his very core, but only as an excuse to steal a conciliatory kiss.
"Speak of the devil," Leia mused when Han walked into the hold less than a minute later, halfway through the autovalet cycle.
"So I'm a devil now? Worship, you're the one with eyes in the back of your head," he contended cheekily, referring to the fact that she'd known he was there even without turning around.
Still facing away from him, she continued folding clean, dry clothing from the last load but easily picked up the thread of his banter. "Not eyes. Maybe a nose. I could smell you. And sense you, too."
"Smell me?" Han repeated, playfully affronted. "Excuse me, Princess, I showered."
She laughed at that, giving him a smile over her shoulder. "Not a bad smell. A you smell: leather, Nabooian pine, a hint of engine grease, and something else uniquely you, something…" Leia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, searching for a way to describe it. "…masculine and appealing."
Han bent and buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in. "Flame-rose, gingerbell, starflower, and blartree blossom. And something uniquely you," he parroted, "some kinda royal pheromone that drives me to distraction." He pressed a kiss to her right temple. "Somethin' contained and wild all at once. Something—"
He'd begun turning her around when it caught his eye, stopping him mid-thought: the slight wiggle of her there, the unconstrained curves; soft and natural lines of her body gently swaying with her movement as she fully spun to face him.
Wordlessly, Han reached up and ran his hand along her collarbone where a strap would be. That was confirmation enough but he wanted to actually see it, and he nudged her shirt down over her shoulder to bare her skin.
"What?" she questioned with a smirk of confusion at his stupefied, afflicted expression.
"You're not wearing a bra."
Leia spared a quick glance down to her breasts, then back up at him. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it. "I only have the one. It's in the wash." She shrugged, perhaps a bit defensively.
The jiggle of her shrug didn't help him any. "You're not wearing a bra," he repeated, slower and further affected.
"Han." She touched his arm, amused but empathetic. "You look like you're in pain. Should I go put it on?" She took a step toward the autovalet, thinking by this point it would be clean if not exactly dry.
"No." He gripped her shoulders, halting her progress. "Stay right here. Just like this."
Han's eyes slid down to her chest, and under his steady perusal he watched her nipples harden to aroused peaks beneath the fabric.
"Ever since the engineering bay…." His gaze traced over each breast one more time before dragging back up to her face. "….I can't stop thinking about it. Got it stuck in my mind."
"You can't use Threepio for parts, Han. Even if it would get the hyperdrive working."
"No, that's not it," he replied with a grin that left an aching flutter in her lower belly. "Still a great idea, but no, I was thinking about something else."
Feeling sensual and receptive, and wanting to further explore those feelings, she hooked her fingers into the edge of his belt and pulled him closer. "Something more pleasant, I hope."
"Kriffin' inspiring." He purposefully dropped his voice into that deep, erotic register he knew stirred her, and whispered against her lips. "I was thinking about your mouth."
Leia sighed into the kiss that followed, stretched up in an effort to deepen it, but after only a few moments Han eased back.
"I want to ask you something: back in the engineering bay, before we were interrupted, I got the feeling…." He slid his hand up to her neck, stroking his thumb softly over her jawline. "Don't wanna overstep — I know what you said at the beginning, and I respect that — but it seemed like, if Threepio hadn't come in, you might have been ready to take things a little further? Do more than we have been?"
Her eyes tracked over his face thoughtfully, not at all surprised that he'd been able to read her so well. Han had always picked up on even her subtler signs, and asking him to climb on top of her wasn't exactly subtle. "I think maybe I would have been."
Now that Leia was removed from the heat of the moment, it was difficult to appraise just exactly where she was at with this, and so she chose her words carefully. "I certainly wanted more…." She knew her feelings, then and now; it would be impossible not to identify such an intense diffusion of longing and desire.
What remained uncertain was if feeling could yet lead to action that she wouldn't later wish to take back — and there were no takebacks in this; her aunts had certainly ingrained that notion.
"Then again, I—" She hesitated, not out of concern for disappointing him — though something close to that did niggle at the edge of her consciousness — but because she was still working it out herself.
"You can tell me," Han gently encouraged when she didn't go on.
"I may have had second thoughts later. After." Leia reluctantly realized the full depth of that truth even as she said it.
"Well, we can't have that."
His reply was spoken simply, quickly, so quickly she feared there were hurt feelings there. "Not that what happened was bad," she rushed to explain. "I didn't mean to imply that—"
"Leia, it's fine." Han shook his head, brushing off her worries. "Listen to me; I like what we've been doing. I like it plenty," he underscored, catching her eye with a slyly seductive smirk, "believe me. There's nothing wrong with taking our time, easing in to more. I'm enjoying it all."
"So am I," Leia agreed, smiling softly. She needed him to know she wasn't angry or upset, and very much wanted to continue on their present course. "I want that too: easing in to more."
She took a step closer to him and the accompanying bounce captured Han's attention again, darkening his eyes and tightening the muscle in his jaw.
"Maybe…" Leia moved closer still until their bodies were mere centims apart. "…we could do some 'easing in' right now?" This time she disregarded his belt, just wrapped her arms about his midsection and pulled him the rest of the way to her, and he leaned down to press his mouth to hers.
As their kisses progressively increased in passion, Han's hands made their way from her upper back and shoulders down to her waist and back again in an enticing circuit. Gradually, the caressing up-and-down touches of his right hand advanced around to her hip, following the line of her body higher and higher with each upward pass before retreating. Until, ultimately, he allowed his hand to glide up over the side of her breast, his palm softly conforming to her.
Leia shivered and gave a sharp intake of breath somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
Han instantly withdrew his hand as if he were six years-old again, caught making a still-clumsy attempt at pickpocketing. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Kest!" he cursed himself, moving away to give her space. "That was stupid, out of line. I got carried away, but I swear I wasn't trying to do—"
Leia reached out and touched his bicep soothingly. "I didn't say you had to stop." Her face lit with a wry smile. "Han, that wasn't a sound of objection. I liked it. I liked it plenty," she mimicked his earlier words and the intent behind them.
Her affirmation brought an immediate stirring to his already aroused groin; to say he was relieved that he'd misinterpreted her reaction would be a colossal understatement.
Leia's inexperience was her free choice and, Han reminded himself, becoming 'experienced' would also be her free choice, not some way that she was taken advantage of. Likewise, there was a fine line between trying to be respectful and always requiring Leia to make the first move. She may not be ready for actual sex — her free choice — but now that she'd begun an escalation beside the hyperdrive unit, and she'd specifically given her consent about this, he was more than ready to take up the lead.
"In that case," Han smirked, all but crooned, "where were we?" He bent to murmur just shy of her mouth, "Oh, that's right: I was bein' a scoundrel."
Leia shot up on tiptoes to bring her lips the rest of the way to his. Her tongue was in his mouth in an instant, swallowing his stuttered sigh. His hand moved back up to her breast just as Chewie plodded in.
The Wookiee had learned from the start of this journey to make plenty of noise before he entered a room in which Cub and Little Princess were alone together. Ever observant, he didn't miss the placement of Cub's hand on a certain sensitive part of Little Princess's anatomy. Still, he didn't feel culpable for the ill-timed interruption. Nearly any time these days seemed to be ill-timed for them. He'd given fair warning, adopting a particularly lumbering gait all the way from the main hold. It wasn't his fault if they were otherwise distracted.
[Cub, it's your time at watch], Chewbacca announced, watching as the pair pulled discreetly apart, [and past time for my evening snack. So if you two would stop snacking on each other….]
Leia looked away apologetically; Han looked purely annoyed at another disruption. "Give us a minute, will ya?" he huffed, tracing his fingertips from her shoulder down her arm. What he wanted was to pull her against him and get back to their easing in, his time at watch be damned — old Goldenrod could go.
Chewie, however, preempted him with a barked, [Don't even think about it. I have seen enough of this already.] Only the night before, they were all eating together around the dejarik table when Cub had left the room for more Whyren's. When he came back he immediately started nuzzling Little Princess's neck, then kissing her ear, whispering things to her that made Little Princess blush.
That was how it was these days. They were always at each other, either lovey-dovey or hot and heavy, neither of which he particularly cared to bear witness. He wished they would just mate, bond, and get it over with — those were the things life was made of and meant for.
But humans, especially these two humans, had hang-ups about that sort of thing. Thus, he was left to suffer their lovesick behavior, but it did provide ample opportunity for ribbing them. [This, Cub, your libidinous appetites; this is why you cannot get any repairs done.]
Leia would have imagined Han would take exception to the 'libidinous' part, or perhaps make a cutting remark over who really had the uncontrollable appetite. Instead, it was the accusation about neglecting the Falcon that got him.
"Can't get any—?" Han broke off, outraged. "Did you see the charge plates? We built—"
[I have seen little evidence of any work on this ship, but plenty—]
"Bantha shit. There were completely fried, and we managed to—"
[But plenty], Chewie continued, rumbling over him, [of evidence of another kind in the high color on both your faces. And your—] He waved a paw at Han's groin. [—situation below the belt.]
Here Chewbacca couldn't contain a woofing laugh that abated his partner's mood from ire to good-natured frustration. "Get outta here, ya furball," Han said.
With another laugh, Chewie did, heading next door to the galley.
Han turned his eyes to Leia with a shake of his head. "Think we should space Chewie, too. Have the place all to ourselves."
"Be nice, I don't think we're the best company right now," she reminded him. "And to be fair," Leia added with a sly smile, "he isn't wrong — about my color or your...situation." She ran her eyes down his body in appreciative appraisal.
Watching her assess his erection with hungry approval sent every last bit of Han's pulse rushing hot and low into his groin, leaving him almost painfully hard. Now he did pull her back against him. "One of these days I'm gonna get you all alone, Sweetheart, that's a promise."
Leia sighed, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'll hold you to it."
[Take it back to your bunk], Chewie jestingly demanded around a bite of food as he passed back out of the galley. [I want to avoid regurgitating my nerf jerky.]
AN: The 90s movie line in question: "I was thinking about your mouth." It was worth a tedious two hours and fifteen minutes just to hear it spoken by Harrison Ford in such a way. It's one of the only things I still remember about that movie.
Also, if you haven't yet, be sure to check out "A Debate of Hospitality". It's a one-shot companion piece to this story, an additional scene that takes place at the beginning of Chapter Two ("Lovestruck").