A/N: Still stuck in this little universe. Pretty soon the whole story will just be embedded here and then I'll be done...

Timeframe: Sometime during the Rebellion (post ANH)

Hope

They walked quietly through the underground bunker. It was dank and the lighting flickered in time with the speeder traffic above them. Exposed valves and piping lined the low ceiling and walls and various fluids leaked here and there. Plastered along the dingy walls were maps and articles, hand-written flimsis and propaganda posters. On the faces of the resistance fighters there was an unmistakable determination and pride as they lead their guests through their hard-fought-for domain as if it were a grand palace. On their lips were stories of their successes, however small. On their faces were the lines and scars of battles and of loss.

Leia Organa looked on with pride and awe. These were the people fighting on the front lines, taking their lives into their hands every single day. Every world, every system had a story like this to tell, had people like this fighting to keep the dream alive, the dream that she fought for and longed for so desperately that she could taste it. On her lips were endless words of encouragement and endearments, her eyes and face lit up with rekindled energy and motivation for her cause.

This was the stuff the Rebellion was made of.

Han Solo, on the contrary, looked on silently and soberly. His normal lop-sided grin flattened into a grim scowl, his opinion of this 'grand palace' quite blatantly obvious. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in every exaggerated sigh and noncommittal "uh-hum" as the rebels spoke to the famous pilot and asked him questions. She knew that where she saw hope, he saw futility and the contrast arced between them through furtive glances shot at each other from across the room. Each time their eyes met a silent conversation volleyed through the air, one made up of "this is its?" and answered with "this is everythings!".

Later, when Han and Leia found themselves in a small room to share for the night, only a patchwork curtain separating them from the others, the pair found that they had little to say to each other. Leia stood in the silence, slowly looking around and taking in their accommodations. The lone bunk and mattress was small, stained and devoid of any kind of pillows or linens. On the walls was evidence of other beings that had stayed there before them. Scribbles and holos pinned haphazardly telling a story all of their own.

Han sighed loudly. "I guess I'll curl up on the floor," he said, kicking some empty ration ampules out of the way and shrugging off his jacket.

Leia looked again at the floor, at the trail of small rodent dung that disappeared behind a chest of drawers. "We can share," she muttered, looking back at the small bed and deciding that it was only marginally better than the floor anyway.

"Deal," Han replied quickly. Tossing his jacket near the head of the bed and toeing his boots off. "Don't worry, Princess. I'm too tired to make any attempts on your chastity and-."

"That declaration is quite sufficient, Captain," she interrupted, not wanting to hear any further discussion about it or to start an argument.

Staying here had not been part of the original agenda but was owed to an unforeseen setback. A setback due to circumstances that Leia had considered unavoidable but that she knew Han did not look upon in quite the same light. Better to placate him, she reminded herself since, whether she felt she should or not, she currently owed him a favor. Besides, it wasn't as if they had not slept beside each other on previous missions, in closer quarters than this. There had been single man tents and even a large shipping crate once. Rebel fugitives couldn't often be choosy. He would tease her, she was sure, but she knew how to handle herself – handle him.

She watched as Han crawled onto the bed and turned sideways with his back pressed against the wall. He scooted back a few times, trying to offer Leia as much room as possible while the small cot squeaked and groaned in protest. Squaring her shoulders, Leia braced herself. Here was where he would usually insert the usual lewd comment while patting the bed and waggling his eyebrows. But no, to her astonishment, he did not. He simply bunched up his jacket as a makeshift pillow, laid his head down, sighed and closed his eyes.

Leia stood there looking at him for a long moment stretched out on the small bunk as she worked diligently at ignoring the slight twinge of something that could or could not be categorized as disappointment slowly creeping through her. Not wanting to dwell on it long, she shook it off and, mimicking his routine, shrugged off her jacket, kicked off her shoes and settled on her side beside him. She was cognizant of the feel of him pressed against her back and of exactly which parts of their bodies were touching. Leaning forward, for as much as the bed would allow her to, she concentrated on separating herself from him instead.

Sleep did not come quickly, as it often didn't for her. So she laid there silent and still as Han's breathing became steady, his breath brushing against her neck and her hair. If she had not been positive that he was indeed sleeping, she would've elbowed him in the ribs when she felt his arm drape over her, weighing down heavily across her waist. As it was, she left it there where it had fallen. For, although she would never admit it, she enjoyed the feeling of being close to him and, feeling comfortable in the safety of his unconscious slumber, she even allowed herself to lean back into him as she had done before. She closed her eyes. It did feel safe in his arms. Both in way of protection but also in a way that she couldn't experience with him when he was awake and his attitude and remarks would cause her to shrink back and pull away.

How long she had been sleeping she did not know, but a sound had awoken her. She stilled for a moment listening, wanting firstly to ensure that the base was not being attacked. The cause of the noise hit her swiftly, however, awareness spreading a warmth of embarrassment over her in its wake. The noise consisted of harsh breathing accompanied by an unmistakable rhythmic pounding.

Someone in the large common sleep area, a pair of the rebels, was making love.

Appalled at the initial realization, she calmed herself and, if not very slowly, started to accept it and even understand. Living in close quarters, being on the run left no semblance of a normal life, of privacy, she rationalized. Regardless of these revelations however, it was making her extremely uncomfortable all the same. Making the heat of Han's body against her back and the weight of his arm across her stomach all of a sudden take on a sharper edge. Her body stiffened, claustrophobia slowly grabbing hold of her.

"Are you alright?"

Han's voice. She groaned inwardly. The fact that he could hear and most definitely had also puzzled out what was happening just a few meters away from them made the situation all the more unbearable. She clamped her eyes shut and decided to feign sleep and not answer him.

It only took a few heartbeats for him to raise his head, lips at her ear and whisper, "Leia?"

She squeezed her eyes together even tighter. Retreat still feeling like her best option.

"It's only sex, sweetheart."

"Drop it, Han. I mean it," she warned through clenched teeth and clenched eyelids.

"It's," he said, trailing off for a moment. "Kinda nice when you think about it."

She shook her head, blowing out a breath and working through the flight instinct that had taken its hold on her. "I'm afraid to ask," she sighed.

"Look at me."

Realizing she had allowed herself to open her eyes, she clamped them down again. Not a breath. Not a move.

"C'mon," he pleaded. "I'm serious. I swear."

The pair that had awoken them were still going at it. The longer they went, the louder they seemed to get. Leia rolled her eyes, knowing she was probably making one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She turned onto her back so that his face was hovering over hers. The fact that his hand remained on her stomach, fingers flared so that they covered her entire abdomen, did not escape her.

"Those two," Han whispered, lifting his chin in the general direction of the noise. "Finding something together in the middle of this. Facing the odds they face every day. Never knowing whose coming back, who'll survive. Day in and day out."

"I'm struggling to understand which part of that you think is nice, Captain."

A very satisfied groan traveled across the room and the pounding rhythm slowed perceptibly. In the dim lighting she could see Han wink at her. "That part," he said smugly.

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes again and huffed as she moved to get out of the bed.

Han held her easily as she was not inclined to fight with him in such close quarters. She laid her head back again, but kept her eyes closed. "What I mean is," she heard him say, the breath of his words tickling across her face. "Is that people who don't believe in what their fighting for. In a…tomorrow. They don't do that."

Leia bit her lip and shook her head, thinking. Han was seeing in the night what she had seen during the day. That fact didn't surprise her; the pair would often arrive at the same conclusion on things even if they, almost without fail, would take a different route to get there. She tried to remember how intractable she thought he had been acting earlier and, as a point of pride, forced herself to look at this situation through his point of view. After a moment she opened her eyes to look at him. "I guess," she said. "I can see your point."

The noises had died down to soft whispers, the occasional moan or giggle and the unmistakable sound of kissing. "You guess?" Han repeated. "You mean you don't know?"

"I know," she said. "That conversing with you any further on this subject is not advisable."

"Not advisable for who, exactly?"

"For whom," she corrected.

He tilted his head back and laughed noiselessly and she watched him. Watched his lips as they came back together and he lowered his head toward her. "I should've known, all this time," he whispered. "That correcting my grammar is a form of foreplay for you. Isn't it?"

"Of-," she sputtered and while lifting up to extricate herself from the situation, unintentionally brought her mouth closer to Han's hovering lips.

And…

He kissed her.

Just like that.

If she had been expecting it she could've begged him off with a few tactful arguments or sharp words, depending on his mood and hers. But he hadn't even given her that opportunity and now…

Now, she was tasting his tongue as it ran along the underside of her lip and she felt her own tongue darting out to meet his in return. His hand that had been resting lazily on her stomach had curled around her hip and was drawing her to him earnestly. She felt out of breath, out of reality. She felt like she should stop, but couldn't bring herself to do anything but capitulate. No wrong chose of words, she told herself, she couldn't bring herself do to anything but actively participate.

Perhaps grammar did play a large role in foreplay for her…

Before she could argue or analyze her actions any further, he pulled away. He was watching her closely, still holding her against him as she caught up to her thoughts, worked at catching her breath.

"Han," she breathed.

"I like when you call me that," he said.

And this, this voice that he was using, this conversation wherever it was going was in the tone that they used when they weren't being Han and Leia as everyone pegged them. Weren't scowling and arguing, bickering and snapping but…communicating. It happened more often than most would think. It just happened most of the time when they were alone, like this, unplanned, unrehearsed and guaranteed to be absolutely unparalleled.

He studied her eyes for a bit and then asked, "Do you have hope, Leia?"

She swallowed.

This was the man that had met her during the worst days of her life, had talked her down off several ledges, held her during unspeakable meltdowns and drove her utterly and completely crazy as it fit his mood or fancy. His actions were impossible to anticipate and usually proved even more difficult to decipher. Han never followed convention. Even this, this kiss wasn't as it should be. But she knew that it wouldn't have happened any other way. She would've argued, she would've dodged and he most certainly knew that.

And she knew that she wouldn't have him or it any other way.

He was watching her as her mind raced. She thought of his question. Did she have hope? Sometimes she had so much hope that it scared her. Hope like these rebels whose situation seemed futile and hopeless. Hope every time she touched down on another planet and met another group such as this. Or hope as she watched their rag tag band of fighter pilots lift off and dart off as she stood on the tarmac and watched their slipstream break up and fade away. Hope, she thought, was the one thing that they hadn't been able to strip away from her.

Hope.

She thought that Han was referring to another kind of hope, however, a more personal kind. The kind of hope that she felt when she leaned against him in the quiet and felt his hand resting on her hip.

"Leia?" He whispered. "Did you hear me?"

She smiled and nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes," she said softly. "And yes."

A/N: I wrote this two ways: one with a kiss and one without. Since I prescribe to the belief that the kiss in the space slug during TESB was their first kiss, I wouldn't necessarily see things playing out as I've written them above. But dang, the version with the kiss was just so much better (when is it not?!) so I published it this way. Sue me if you'd like.