A/N: Yes, yes, I went away for a long time. Apologies that is has been many moons since I last posted an update. I promise this story will not "left undone." Enjoy!

As always, I don't own anything.

And the Wanting Comes in Waves

"Gossip travels fast, huh?"

Leia glanced over her shoulder and shook her head, "You have no idea."

"I guess you're probably used to it, though," Han leaned against the blue marble wall next to the controls for her apartment door, "The holos barely leave you alone."

Someone from the media had followed her hovercar back from the Kashyyyk Memorial celebration, and she and Han had run into a rag-tag band of holoreporters hanging around the entrance to her apartment building. She had to have her security detail park on the roof to avoid both the rowdiness of the scene and the embarrassment of finding holos of her and Han entering her apartment building at night splashed across the holonews in the morning.

"You never get used to it."

Her door slid open to punctuate the statement, and Han followed her in.

"Wow."

Leia spread her arms wide and gestured around the main living area of her flat, "So, this is home."

Han paused awkwardly in the doorway, "Not exactly what I expected, Princess."

She reached around him to palm the door closed, "What were you expecting?"

"I dunno. Not a bachelor pad?"

"Bachelor pad?"

"It's just …" he waved a hand around at the appointments in her apartment, "Not very girly."

"Since when have I been girly?" Leia chuckled and moved toward her refrigeration unit, "Do you want something to drink?"

"You offer all the guys you bring back here drinks, Sweetheart?"

"Only the ones who make it this far with their pants on."

Han clucked his tongue, "I'll keep that in mind. What do you have?"

She scanned the contents of the refrigeration unit, letting the cool air and warm light from inside wash over her, "Um, hmm. Sparkling wine. Bitter ice ale. Keep that around for Luke …. And I think there's some sort of expensive brandy in the cabinet. Or water, obviously. Tea?"

Leia felt his eyes on her; his gaze was almost like to physical touch. She shivered.

"How 'bout the wine?"

She pulled the bottle out, and kicked the door of the unit closed with her foot. Her hands went to work on the cork.

"You think we can finish the bottle? It'll go bad if we don't."

He reached across the counter, from where he'd taken a seat on a high stool, to take the bottle out of her hands, "I don't think we're gonna have a problem. But are we gonna drink straight from the bottle? It's still a little early for that."

"I'm not getting drunk with you."

"Relax. It'll take more than this to get either of us drunk. I know you can hold your liquor just –" The cork popped and Han caught it in his palm, "Just fine."

Leia soon produced a pair of glass goblets, and Han silently poured their drinks.

"To what?" He held up his glass.

Leia swirled her wine, "To the Wookiees."

"Sounds good to me," Han tilted the rim of his goblet toward hers and quirked his lips, "To the Wookiees. And old friends."

"Old friends."

They drank.

Talking was easy. They'd made their way to the long lounger in the living space that had a full viewport overlooking her building's courtyard and beyond to the dense complex of government buildings that made up the capitol.

After their sensitive conservations earlier in the day, they both seemed wary, and so stuck to neutral topics, like the New Republic's tax policy for corporations of various kinds. Leia was genuinely surprised that Han was quite knowledgeable about galactic political economy and could speak eloquently on several related subjects. Though she would never admit it to anyone, she learned a handful or two of things from him as they emptied the bottle of sparkling wine. She would also never admit to anyone that she liked just listening to his voice: hearing the syllables he purposefully dropped and the ones that he didn't, the harsh edges he carved out on certain words, the sometimes musical lilt of his Corellian drawl, and the varied and odd speech patterns that were uniquely his.

Their discussion of economics and politics eventually fizzled out, and they sat in companionable silence until Han gestured to the large window with his empty glass.

"This is quite the view, you know. Did you buy this place?"

"It's on government lease."

"So if you aren't appointed to a new term, you lose it?"

"That's the idea," she finished her drink and set down the goblet, "But I won't be appointed to another term."

He, too, set down his glass, and shifted so his left arm ran rested on the back of the lounger behind her shoulders. He furrowed his brow, "How come?"

"A whole new set of ministers will probably be installed when Mon Mothma leaves office. And, anyway, I'm sick of Coruscant. It was different living here when I was a Senator, and I felt I had some sort of great political purpose. Now … I just want it to be over."

"I didn't … huh."

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"What, Han?"

"I don't know … I can't imagine you not bein' involved in the New Republic."

"I see Luke, who seems so happy with the path he's chosen. I … I don't have that. It's never felt absolutely right."

"This the Force talkin'?"

"No, this is Leia talking. Anyway, it's not important. I'll plot that jump when I get to it."

Han shook his head, "The Leia I knew would have never said that kind of thing."

"That's because I'm not the Leia you knew. This one goes day-by-day," Leia pushed herself up with a hand on his knee, "I'll be right back."

"Okay," he stretched out and yawned, brushing a hand across her back, "I'll be right here."

"Don't fall asleep on me."

"Got plans for me, Princess?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I don't want to have to drag you to a hovercar if you're passed out."

"I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight."

"Nerfherder," she tossed over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bedroom, toward her 'fresher.

Hidden in the small room, Leia smiled to herself and tried to shake the fuzziness out of her mind. Half a bottle of wine made her tipsier than she would care to admit. There was every reason in the galaxy to send Han back to his own accommodation when she went back out there, except she didn't really want to. It wasn't that late, she told herself, and he was being a perfect gentleman. Well, more or less a perfect gentlemen. She wasn't sure what that glancing touch was when she got up, but he was behaving himself. She'd enjoyed their conversation.

Leia wiped a damp finger under her lower lashes to clean up her smudged make-up and roughed up her limp hair. I like this you, he had said on their way to her apartment, echoing comments he'd made to her earlier in the day when they'd fought in her office. The sentiment made her feel uneasy – a little angry, even, now that she thought twice about it – like he was summing her up, and like she hadn't actually been good enough before. She'd changed a great deal in the past seven years, but she wasn't looking for notice or approval from Han Solo or anyone else. In truth, she didn't want his approval.

She didn't know what she wanted from him.

Nerfshit.

The sudden wave of intense desire she felt was chased by a wave of panic that rose from her toes and twisted around her stomach.

"I can't do this," she said to her reflection and drew in a sharp breath.

Leia palmed open the 'fresher door and strode quickly through her bedroom and out to where she had left him.

"Han, I – of course."

She rolled her eyes: he was asleep on her lounger.

She left him sprawled in her living room, quietly snoring and covered with a light blanket.

As Leia wiggled out of her tight dress, she glanced nervously at her door. She didn't have a proper panel installed in the bedroom since she lived alone. There were no signs that Han was stirring, but she didn't want him making a surprise appearance as she was undressing. It wouldn't be terrible, she admitted to herself, but she honestly didn't know what she would do.

She also wasn't sure why she hadn't awakened him and sent him on his way, but she couldn't deny the minor thrill of sleeping under the same roof he was sleeping under. The Minister of State was reminded of her early time as a Rebel princess, camping out on the Falcon on long missions. She didn't like the fact that Han sleeping twenty meters away was comforting, and so tried to shake off the feeling as comfort-in-familiarity, good only because it was a known hazard. In any case, he was safe – she was safe – when he was asleep.

A nasty voice rang through her brain, As long as he stays asleep.

"I hate," she whispered harshly as she threw her shoes in the direction of their rack, "feeling like this."

Rifling through her wardrobe to look for something decidedly unsexy to wear to bed, Leia wondered why, exactly, Han had wanted to come back to her apartment with her and had made no effort whatsoever to seduce her. He'd given no explanation as to his choice of escape from the celebration, and she hadn't asked. Acquiescing had been so simple, had felt right at the time ...

She felt even more unmoored than she had fifteen minutes ago when she'd panicked in the 'fresher. Indulging in one overdramatic sigh, she settled on a huge shirt and stretched-out leggings, and slipped into bed. Sleep would help; everything would be clearer in the morning.

For a long time, she watched the traffic lanes outside the large viewport and counted the muffled breaths of the man sleeping in the adjacent room.

It was an old habit.

Leia blinked. Noise. Adrenaline awakened her immediately, and in one motion, she pulled a small blaster out from behind her pillow and sat up.

The noise was coming from her refresher unit and she trained her weapon on the access point. She watched the panel a moment for movement.

"Who's there?" she barked.

"Hold your fire, Sweetheart," came a voice, "I'll be right out."

Leia let her blaster drop to the green coverlet. Filtered light from Coruscant's cityscape illuminated the dark shapes of her furniture. A quick look at her bedside chronometer told her there were still two hours until sunrise. With a few deep breaths, her reflexes relaxed and she pulled back from the edge of action.

"Should I even ask?" she called.

The door slid open, and yellow light spilled into the room, framing her ex-whatever-he-was, and casting a glow over his bare shoulders.

"Hey, sorry, I couldn't find the panel on your other 'fresher, so …" Han jerked a thumb back toward the common space.

"You scared the hell out of me."

"You forgot I was here? I'm hurt, Your Worship."

"Thank your lucky stars I didn't shoot you, Han," Leia flopped back down on her pillows and closed her eyes against the man standing, half-naked, two meters from her bed.

"I may be old, but I can still dodge blaster fire if I have to."

"And I'm still a better shot than you think."

"How do you know what I think?" Without opening her eyes, she knew he'd crossed his arms and taken up a defensive posture just this side of the 'fresher door.

"Educated guessing."

He didn't say anything, and after a moment, his silence and stillness got to her. Leia couldn't resist the temptation to open an eye and gauge him. He was just standing there, watching her. She thought she could make out a lopsided grin on his shadowed face.

"What?"

He uncrossed his arms, "That's an awfully big bed for such a petite princess."

She flung her forearm over her face, "I told you: I'm not a princess anymore."

"Still a big bed," she sensed his shift in the 'fresher doorway and movement toward her.

"No."

"No what?"

"Your sleeping quarters are in the other room."

The mattress sank as he sat on it. Leia dropped the arm that had been covering her face, and looked at him again. He was watching her with a deadly serious expression steeling his features. The city lights that had been playing across the cold objects in the room now played across his tousled hair and the thick muscles of his back and upper arms; he was bulkier than she remembered, and every bit as devastatingly handsome.

He reached out to touch the fingers of the hand that had fallen to her side.

"I missed you, Leia."