A/N: Timeframe here is mid-ESB during the flight to Bespin. Inspiration came from personal experience. :-) Get your minds out of the gutter! LOL! (You'll see why that's so funny later.)

Personal Matters

Leia woke to the sound of banging. This was not a strange occurrence. Not since she had found herself an unwitting, long-term passenger upon the limping starship paradoxically named the Millennium Falcon. She swung her feet out of the bed, quickly dressed and wrapped her long hair into a quick bun. Slowly following the sound of Corellian curses and tinkering metal, she happened upon Han Solo in the outer corridor of the ship. He was lying on the ground with his left arm shoulder-deep inside an access panel in the wall.

"Trouble?" She asked, raising one eyebrow.

"You could say that." Han replied through clenched teeth, although his eyes remained trained on the task at hand.

"Anything I should know about?"

"You could say that, too."

Uh-oh. Leia had grown up in a house full of women. Although her father had been a huge part of her life, she couldn't really say that she was privvy to his every mood like his wife, her mother, would've been. With that perspective, she had grown up knowing that women were moody creatures and, with her limited knowledge on the subject, she had grown up thinking men were not. A week into the trip with Han and Chewie aboard this small ship had her revisiting that notion, several times over. "Are you in a mood this morning? Because if so-"

"Blow it back, Chewie!" Han yelled over his shoulder.

Leia continued, "Because if so, I'll just stay out of your way."

"Probably a good idea," Han replied curtly. And then raising his voice, he said, "Okay, stop! Stop!"

She watched as Han seemed to fiddle around with something inside of the ship. Leia watched intently. "If there's something wrong with the ship, I think I should be made aware of it."

"Nothin's wrong. Just some...unchseduled maintenance."

"So, just curious, does that mean you ever do scheduled maintenance? And how is it that you tell the difference, I wonder?"

Han sat up, pulling his arm out of the access panel. He gave her a quick look. "Now's really not the time." He then stood up and yelled, "Going aft, Chewie. Send it that way!"

She followed. "Han, I don't understand why you just won't tell me what's going on. It seems that you're intent on making matters worse by keeping me in the dark. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think," her sentence was cut off when she ran into the back of him as he halted unexpectedly. He only afforded her a quick glance before he crouched down, opened another access panel and continued with his work. Leia continued, "I'd think that I had done something to upset you."

Han heaved a heavy breath. "Hold it there, Chewie!" He yelled, before turning to her and dropping his voice. "Look, it's nothing you did. I'm not upset. I just need to get this fixed, okay?"

"What this?"

"Well," he said, his voice straining as he stretched his arms up into the innards of the ship. Leia looked around, she had never seen him working on the Falcon around this corridor. She wasn't exactly sure if there were any mechanics in the area. The puzzle grew even greater. "If you really must know," Han was continuing, reaching further with his arm. Then, he seemed to relax, as if he might've finally reached his goal. "Me and Chewie've been chasing this problem all morning. It's something we've never seen before. And that's sayin' somethin'." He raised his voice, "I think I got it, Chewie. Button it back up and we'll pressure test it."

"So what was it?" Leia asked, exasperated.

Han smirked as he began to remove his hand from inside the access panel in the ship. At first Leia didn't know what she was looking at. Han had produced something wet and grungy and disgusting looking. Somehow she knew what it was the instant that he said it. "Hair."

She felt her cheeks burn. "Oh."

Han stood, stretching his legs and holding out the nest of long, auburn-colored hair pinched between two fingers. "I don't suppose you can do anything with this, Your Long-hairedness? Reattach it maybe? Or...say...knit a life-sized Wookiee?"

"No," Leia answered, her voice low with embarrassment. "I do recall, however, that my father had installed special drain covers at the palace...for just this sort of thing."

"Special drain covers?" Han asked, nodding his head in over-exaggerated understanding. "I'll get right on that."

She lifted her shoulders up meekly. "Sorry."

Before Han could respond, Chewbacca came lumbering around the corridor barking and hooting. Leia was still learning Shyriiwook, so she didn't catch all of it, but she definitely heard something about late breakfasts and the benefits of short fur. Her hand went instintively - protectively - to her hair, enticing an amused guffaw out of Han.

"She's says she'll take that under advisement," Han yelled at the departing Wookiee as he gave Leia a quick wink. "C'mon," he said with a tilt of his hed. "I think a big breakfast will smooth everything over."

"I certainly hope so," Leia mumbled, as she had visions of herself with short, braided strands of Wookiee fur on her head.