3. Day 2

She had awakened in Han's arms, astonished and embarrassed. He had barely given her a soft 'Hiya, sweetheart', when she squeezed out of his embrace and was suddenly all business. The Corellian followed her with an amused look in his eyes.

Han had sacrificed his cabin for her but there were other practical problems to solve. Evidently, she had no luggage and no other clothes to change into. And after all the adrenaline of the day, she desperately needed at least a sonic shower and a change. To her annoyance, she had to borrow one of Han's shirts to use as a nightgown. But she promptly turned Threepio on and entrusted him with the task of cleaning her clothes for the time she woke up.

As she slipped between the sheets, the Princess reflected on the cumulated facts that had lead to her sleeping in Han Solo's bed, wearing Han Solo's shirt. Although the man himself was staying in the cargo bay, his presence in the cabin that usually was his was ineludible. To her surprise, she found this arrangement even more uneasy than sleeping in his arms itself.

As Leia turned on the well-worn mattress, seeking a comfortable position, she noticed some bumps and hollows in it.

Blast.

The thing had the form of his owner imprinted on it. She tried to not think about which other activities besides sleeping had carved his frame so deeply there. Uncomfortable, she arched her back, avoiding the depression in the center.

So much for sleeping.

Those thoughts led again to her considering her current association with Han Solo. She had intended to clarify things between them when she invited him to join her in the gunner turret. Instead she had accepted another kiss and, following a foolish impulse, she had kissed him back. And then she had fallen asleep, for Force sake!

Where was this going? This was not her, why was she doing this? They had nothing in common, what did he want from her? For that matter, what did she expect from him?

She didn't have answers for any of those questions. They had been friendly antagonists for so long. Or antagonistic friends. One of those. But she would have a word with him tomorrow. She would be kind but firm. Definitely.

She did not.

After more than two hours of trying, Leia gave up sleeping. She slipped out of bed, opened the hatch and snatched her jumpsuit out of Threepio's hands. The faithful droid had been waiting outside her door, patiently. She ordered him to remain in the cabin untill further notice. It was too late - or too early, actually - to endure his endless babbling.

She greeted Chewbacca in the cockpit and went to get some caf. The protocol droid had informed her that Captain Solo had retired to the cargo bay an hour ago.

The Princess occupied the next hours filling her report of the Hoth battle in a borrowed datapad. The grim details slowly pushed Han out of her mind.

Princess Organa was thinking of getting her another cup of caf and maybe something to eat with it when a soft brush on her head and two strong hands on her shoulders startled her. Han.

"Mornin'," he said, "you want some breakfast?"

For an answer, she cursed in her native language.

"Not a mornin' person, uh, Princess?" the Corellian teased.

"I entered the wrong command!" Leia panicked. "My report is gone!"

"Let me see," Han Solo said, suddenly worried. Snatching the datapad from her hands, he fidgeted briefly with the controls. "Nah, here it is," he said as he gave it back to her.

Princess Leia scrolled down the file and sighed. "Yeah, I only lost the last half hour of it."

"Sorry."

He looked actually guilty. That was something new. She arched her brows and frowned, dismissing the subject.

A few minutes later, he planted two mugs of fresh caf on the table and two bowls of something that looked like wet, yellowish mud. He started to eat with obvious appetite, finishing the scorching stuff in no time. "I've got to relieve Chewie. 'Later," he said and disappeared toward the cockpit, taking his caf with him.

The Princess inspected her breakfast reluctantly. It was probably now below the boiling point of water, so she dared to taste it. It was some kind of precooked cereal, soft and somewhat sweet, with a dash of unidentifiable spices. Nevertheless, it brought a comfortable sensation in her stomach once it arrived there.

She didn't want to be harsh on Han; he was so obviously trying to be nice. Maybe if she just ignored him...

It was really a very long day.

Chewbacca came by, ate his dinner and went to his cabin to catch some sleep. Princess Leia finished her report and joined Han in the cockpit. He was still worried about the long-range scanners being down. The only way to have some warning in case they've got company was to keep always an eye on the screens. They would have to take shifts watching it.

"Count me in for that," Leia volunteered, "I don't want to be a passenger."

"You sure you wanna be under my command?" Han questioned, deploying a crooked smile.

"Sure." Maybe that would keep him at bay. Smuggler's honor and all that.

"Alright, let's go through the basics," the Captain started.

She spent four hours in the cockpit that day, checking endlessly an incredibly long list of switches and dials, under Han's surveillance. Very close surveillance. Evidently, he didn't read that part of the Command Handbook.

After a quick bite, she renewed her acquaintance with the macrofuser, under Chewie's supervision this time. But in her fifty-second consecutive hour without sleep (not counting her short nap in Han's arms the day before) she misunderstood the signaling of her hairy fellow and welded the piece the Wookiee had patiently reconstructed upside down.

The roaring and shouting that followed made Captain Solo jump out of his seat and run to his crew, fearing to find one of them gravely wounded. Instead, he discovered Chewbacca cornered by a fiery Princess yelling at the top of her lungs "You didn't tell me that! You didn't!"

Watching the show, Han considered teaching her some Shyriiwook in the future, so the three of them could stay alive until arriving at Bespin. And Chewie would collaborate gladly in that project. First he had to do something about the Princess's sleep, or lack of, really. He had noticed the dark circles under her eyes earlier and her jumpiness, but thought it was something she had to solve for herself. Untill it affected his ship and his crew.

He grabbed Leia by her shoulders and directed her to the lounge. She protested, to no avail. "Sit there," he ordered. She fumed a bit, but obeyed. Han sat by her. "Have you had a decent amount of sleep, let's say, six hours a day, in the last week?" She reddened and shook her head. "Four?" More shaking. "Two?"

"I'm sorry," she said, for some strange reason on the verge of tears.

"You should apologize to Chewie, not me."

"I will."

Chewbacca roared gently from the other compartment.

"He says it doesn't matter, he'd never rip arms out of their sockets to somebody smaller than a ten-seasons-old Wookiee youngling," Han translated.

"Thank you, Chewie." The Princess sounded relieved but utterly exhausted. "I think I'll try to sleep now."

"Wait. I'll give you my special." The Corellian fussed for a while in the kitchenette and returned with a steaming mug. "Drink."

She sniffed the contents of the mug warily.

"Hey, trust me," he smirked. "It's just blue milk with some Kashyyykian honey. Luke left a container last time. Oh, alright, it has a good shot of Whyren's Reserve in it, but that won't hurt you."

She lifted the mug with shaking hands and drank, cautiously at first and eagerly later. The warm dissolved partially the knots in her stomach and the delicate fumes of the liquor tickled in her nose.

Then, he took her hand and dragged her gently to the main cabin.

They stopped by the hatch, but before she could dismiss him, he swiftly slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

She raised her head a bit surprised, looking into his eyes. Han took advantage of it and leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss. A kiss that deepened when he pushed her slightly off-balance, pressing her against the curved wall with his body.