A/N: If anyone is wondering, Leia's clothing in this story is influenced by the elegant and thoroughly modern style of French first lady Carla Bruni Sarkozy. I just couldn't imagine Leia slogging around in the post-ROTJ galaxy in the same damn white robes or other overly floofy or fussy garments all the time. And, after all, higher hemlines correlate with economic growth and political stability.
Hurt So Good
"Jas, could you get Threepio in here?"
"Yes, Minister."
The golden droid's head appeared around the edge of her open door in a few seconds. The Rodians had just left, and Leia was exhausted.
"Come in, Threepio."
"Oh, oh – was there an error in the Rodese documents, Minister?"
Leia rubbed a hand under her eye, stretching out her weary tired muscles, "No, Threepio. I need you to go on a errand for me."
"Of course. I am happy to be at your service."
"I commed in an order to the manager at CorCor Boutique for a dress. I need you to go pick it up and bring it back here."
"Do you want me to go right away?"
"I need the dress here before 1800 so, yes, go now."
"Is there anything else I can pick up for your while I'm out?"
"No, but get it back here in time."
"Yes, ma'am."
Leia shook her head as Threepio scuttled off.
The Minister of State chewed on her thumbnail and pondered the dress on the hanger in front of her. There wasn't enough time to send Threepio back to CorCor to exchange the dress, and nothing in her office wardrobe was appropriate for the occasion. The Battle of Kashyyyk Memorial dedication wasn't her stage – she was attending more as a friend than as a government official – so the two formal gowns she had on hand were too attention grabbing.
The dark green tailored shimmersilk looked innocuous from the front. It had a high neckline, long, tight sleeves and sharp, stiff shoulders. The garment was perfectly of-the-moment but the modest hem that reached just past her knees kept it polished. The plunging back, however, was something else entirely. There was no way to cover it up without ruining the overall look of the dress.
That the first place Han Solo's wandering hands would go would be her bare lower back didn't help things.
In one swift movement, she grabbed the dress and stepped into it, sick of the second-guessing. If the holomagazines blasted her for the choice, she would have to ignore it. Perhaps she could even slip into the event relatively unharassed. A diminutive human female could certainly hide behind a Wookiee or two. As she pulled the dress up to her waist, Leia realized with dismay that she would have to remove the foundation garment binding her breasts because it wrapped around her back.
"Great," she wriggled out of her underwear and tossed it on the floor.
Then she heard her main office door open.
"Shit," she waddled over to the 'fresher door panel, one arm covering her breasts, and punched it shut, "Shit."
"Minister?" Jas's voice came through the intercom near the sink, "Hellooooo? Minister?"
"I'm uh, a little busy at the moment, Jas."
"Your escort is here. I'm just letting him into your office."
"Tell him," she sucked in a deep breath and noted the time – 1800 on the nose, "Tell him he can just wait."
Han's voice answered, rather than Jas's, "So, you got this set up so you can talk to people while you're in the 'fresher?"
"Yes, Han," she finally got her left arm into the tight sleeve.
"Isn't that, I dunno, a little awkward?"
"It's only awkward if you make it awkward. Like finding out you've kissed your brother in an unsisterly way."
"Point taken," he was silent for a few moments as she got the bodice of the dress adjusted, "You're not gonna make me wait forever out here, aren't you?"
"I still have to fix my hair."
"Maybe you can just leave it down."
In response, she flipped on her small hairstyling droid. It whirred to life and would drown out anything that came through the intercom. She released it and kept her head still as the droid pulled and twisted her hair. The styling cycle gave her a chance to inspect her make-up and dab kaff extract crème under her eyes. She didn't really care that she didn't look perfect – it was more trouble than it was worth, and tonight she'd be around people who had seen her dirty and bruised and bloody anyway.
The droid had begun to weave her hair into a loose updo and she reached behind her head to deactivate it.
Immediately as the buzz ceased, Han's voice came through the intercom, "You done yet?"
"Dampen your thrusters, flyboy. It's been seven years, so you can wait another minute."
"Yeah, yeah, well, hurry up."
Leia shook her head, freeing the waves the droid had created. Maybe making this one concession to the man waiting in her office early in the evening would prevent further concessions later. Be generous early, Bail had always told her, and get what you want in the end.
She reached for the 'fresher door and palmed it open.
Both Han and Leia had honed exceptional Sabacc faces, so when the Minister of State saw the slack-jawed look on the former smuggler's face, she knew her expression had to mirror his. She'd expected him to show up in exactly the same thing she'd seen him in earlier in the day, but instead, he'd donned a relaxed but exquisitely tailored dark suit. He was also sitting in her office chair with his feet on her desk.
Her brain kicked into gear, "Out!"
He made no effort to move, "And she opens her mouth."
"Whatever. Are you ready to go?"
"Hey, I was here on time."
"Well, I had a bit of a problem with my dress."
"Yeah, yeah. Your security detail is already waiting outside, too," he pointed toward her door.
"At least they know to protect me from you."
"I promised you I'd be nice."
"'Nice' means something a lot different for you than it does for most beings, Han," she walked around the desk toward him, "Can I get in here please?"
He dropped his feet and pushed the chair back but didn't get up. Leia wedged her way in between him and the desk to retrieve her holdout blaster from the top drawer. Leaning over slightly to pick up the weapon, she felt a hand on the bare skin of her back.
The sensation of his warm fingers in such intimate contact with her body caused an involuntary shiver that sent a flash of heat from her scalp to her toes. Leia carefully laid the blaster on the desk and went about fastening a tiny jeweled holster to her wrist as if nothing was happening. She felt him move and shift his weight forward. Probably emboldened by the fact she hadn't pulled away or the turned the blaster on him, he began tracing the edge of the fabric sitting at the base of her spine.
His voice was low and husky when he finally spoke after what seemed to Leia like an eternity but couldn't have been more than five seconds, "This the problem with your dress?"
She slipped the blaster into place on her wrist, "Yes."
"Funny, Princess, I don't see what the problem is."
She'd made a big deal to him – to everyone, really – that it had been so long since her relationship with him had ended. Yet, somehow, the bickering, the touch, and the affection made seven years collapse into the blink of an eye. Time warped around them. Deep in her mind, Leia knew it wasn't just the psychology of human relationships but that it also had something to do with the Force. Luke had explained to her once that one of the Force talents that she had that made her such a successful negotiator was an ability to subtly manipulate how those around her felt time. Here, with Han, she was tricking herself, just as she seemed to have stretched out the days on their journey from Hoth to Bespin all those years ago.
"I'm ready. We don't want to be too late and have Chewie even madder at you," she reached around her back and grasped his hand, tugging on it slightly to get him up.
She smiled as they walked toward the door, interlacing her fingers with his.
When they stepped out of the hovercar, the media gallery erupted.
"So much for making a quiet entrance," Han whispered in her ear.
She turned her head slightly toward him, "Well, they'll be getting what they want, won't they?"
"You mean us?"
"Thanks to that little piece in the Sun. I'm sure the media is just dying to confirm it."
They walked close together, but not touching, toward the platform set up for distinguished guests, about a hundred paces past the press, "Confirm, huh?"
"You know what I meant."
He bumped her lightly with his torso, "I do, huh?"
She smiled widely as they reached the reporters and holographers and said through her teeth, "You do."
So close now, she was able to distinguish the individual voices, some in Basic, some not, trying to get her attention. She kept smiling and laughed a bit as she waved toward the various recording devices.
"Minister! Over here! Hot dress!"
She wasn't sure if the arm Han had slipped around her waist made her more or less self-conscious. It wasn't that Leia hated the media or appearing in public, but she had signed up to be a politician, not a celebrity. She glanced over at her date who, despite all of his protests about being the center of attention (she and Luke had to carefully coax him to even appear in front of the troops to receive his medal at Yavin), appeared to be hamming it up for the press. She knew he was nervous – could feel his tense muscles – but no one else, save perhaps Chewbacca, would be able to tell from his outward appearance and demeanor.
"Hey, look over here, Minister! General!"
"Good to see you back together!"
"Let's get a good holo of that dress, Minister!"
Han's voice rumbled over the din, "Can we get movin'?"
"Just smile and wave. It'll be over soon."
He groaned.
"You wanted to be my date, Han."
A Twi'lek in the front row called out, "Leia! Han! Kiss for the imager!"
Apparently others thought that request was a good idea, and the gallery exploded in a chorus of "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
Leia looked up into Han's face to find his signature half-smile plastered on it, but felt her own smile faltering.
"We can't," she whispered and tried to fake a laugh.
He loosened his grip on her slightly, just enough to turn her in his arms to face him, "No tongue, I promise."
In her peripheral vision, she saw him hold out an accusatory finger to the press, but kept focused on her.
"Don't even try."
Han was leaning in and was so close, so very close. Leia closed her eyes, and his lips were instantly pressed against hers. The kiss lingered a moment – long enough for holos to be taken – but remained chaste and ended quickly. She opened her eyes to see him smirking down at her and she felt uncomfortable. Kissing him, however briefly, stirred up strange feelings of familiar excitement. More than that, however, was her uncertainty about the authenticity of the kiss. Had he done it – had they done it – because they were egged on? Or because they wanted to anyway, and the pressure offered a convenient excuse?
Admonishing or mocking him was always easier than admitting anything to him, so she slipped into the safety of that, "Scoundrel."
"So it was good for you, too?"
She rolled her eyes. On the platform, Luke spotted them and waved.
"I see my brother. Let's go get a seat."
"Lead the way, Princess."