Domestic Bliss

by justinegraham

Han and Leia forever. Completely AU post-RotJ vignettes and longer chapters featuring our favourite couple playing house. For the record, we utterly ignore Mickey Mouse canon. Never happened. These two will be together forever, and nobody gets murdered. Co-authored with Erin Darroch (erindarroch). We don't mind where you leave your reviews; we share them with each other!

3. You and Me

Authors' Notes: This chapter is the first (probably of many) that earn this story its 'M' rating. Also, this was supposed to be a brief, fluffy little chapter but, apparently, neither one of us is capable of either brief or purely fluffy, alas. Adult content, some angst. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed this fic so far; we have a few more updates coming after this one. Stay tuned!

You and Me

By Justine Graham and Erin Darroch

Leia Organa stepped through the sliding doors that led from the sheltered interior of the water taxi out onto the wide wooden deck and then inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharp tang of the salty sea air. Although the seating area inside the hovercraft—entirely enclosed within glassine panels—was comfortable enough and offered unobstructed views of Lumelemi harbor, the weather was simply too beautiful to spend the entire duration of the twenty-minute ferry indoors.

A fine spray rose from the repulsors that held the craft aloft as it zipped along, hovering about a half meter above the surface, coating sections of the polished wooden deck with a film of salt water that glinted in the late-afternoon light. Minding her footing, Leia made her way carefully to the edge of the deck and leaned on her forearms against the cool metal rail. The rays of the setting sun had turned the normally deep-blue depths of the harbor into shimmering liquid gold, and the stiffening breeze was starting to kick up a gentle swell. All around the taxi, Leia watched with interest as watercraft of every description criss-crossed the bustling harbor, from commercial ships heading in to unload their cargo, to various forms of pleasure craft, waveriders, and old-fashioned sailing vessels making their way to shore to berth for the night.

Leia closed her eyes and tipped her face to the warmth of the lowering sun, enjoying the exhilarating rush of the breeze that mingled with the excitement bubbling up inside her at the thought of seeing her new apartment—the home she would be sharing with Han Solo—for the first time.

Home. It was a word Leia had all but forgotten—had deliberately tried to forget. It had been virtually eliminated from her vocabulary on the day Alderaan was destroyed, and she'd been continually on the move ever since, fleeing from one temporary base to another, darting from one mission to the next, trying with all her might to make her losses count for something. Now, almost seven months after the destruction of the second Death Star and with the ragged Imperial remnants fleeing the Core, she dared to hope that the Alliance was actually going to win the war and bring to fruition the goal for which her parents and her friends—and so many others—had paid the ultimate price. Finally, with the end in sight, she dared to think of home.

In anticipation of victory, the Alliance High Command had already begun preparations for making the transition to a new government. As a high-profile public figure and one of the leaders of the Rebellion, Leia had accepted an appointment on the Provisional Council, along with the allocation of an official residence within easy commuting distance of the new Senate Building. The apartment on the harbor's edge was likely to be only a temporary home, but it promised to be a significant improvement upon her cramped cabin aboard Home One, or any of the numerous tiny, stark quarters she'd been housed in on hastily thrown-together military bases around the galaxy. And, unlike any of the other places she'd inhabited over the past few years, this time she wouldn't be living alone.

The little thrum of anticipation fluttering in the pit of her stomach increased tenfold as she caught sight of the modern chromium and glassine structure in the distance, easily distinguishable from the rest of the buildings on the boardwalk by the rounded facade of its sides and the broad, brightly colored awning that spanned the front of the building at street level. She imagined Han waiting for her there and felt her pulse race a little faster. By the time the taxi slipped into its berth against the dock, her heart was beating a staccato rhythm against her ribs and she had to expend some effort to calm her breathing.

Taking advantage of the slight delay while the taxi was being secured in its moorings, she scanned the wharf for any signs of suspicious activity, acutely aware that there could be someone amongst the crowd who wished her ill. Though the war was drawing to a close, she'd long been a highly visible symbol of the Rebellion and it was an uncomfortable but inescapable truth that she still represented an attractive target for assassination. Alliance picket ships maintained a perimeter around the planet to forestall the possibility of a concerted military attack, but individual fanatics could still easily slip through the streets of Hanna City unnoticed, and Leia was mindful of the need to remain vigilant in such a public location.

She felt a flash of gratitude that she need not rely solely on her eyes and ears for information, though; she had another sort of vision at her disposal, one that transcended the limitations of her physical body. Even as she scanned the milling crowd with her eyes, she reached out with the Force to ascertain any potential dangers, drawing upon the months of training she'd had with Luke when they were both still on Endor. It was only the start of what she hoped would be a steady development of her newfound powers, but it was already proving useful in ways she hadn't even imagined. Opening her senses to the energies of the myriad beings criss-crossing the wharf and the broader boardwalk beyond, she was relieved to find that they were all largely oblivious to her presence, intent as they were upon their own business and personal concerns.

Sensing no threats, she extended her senses a little further, penetrating through the turbulent sea of life and emotion flowing all around her, searching for Han's distinctive and familiar energy—one that drew her towards it like a beacon in the darkness. His was the first such signature she'd learned to identify in that mysterious dimension, and she'd practiced that particular skill almost every day since, honing it to perfection. She smiled when she found him, enjoying the sensation of his presence nearby and delighting in the fact that the myriad emotions she could sense swirling about him closely mirrored her own.

After the captain gave the all-clear to disembark, Leia readjusted the strap of the leather satchel slung over her shoulder, holding it securely against her body with a tight grip, and joined the queue of beings already lined up at the exit ramp, graciously enduring the bumping and jostling of the other passengers as they moved in a slow trickle off the vessel. Leaving the quay, she then turned and began weaving her way through the pedestrians traversing the boardwalk, angling in the direction of her new home. As she neared the building a few moments later, she cast a glance upwards and felt her heart give a little jolt.

High above, leaning on crossed arms against the balcony rail nine stories up, was the tiny but distinctive figure of Han Solo. She saw him raise his hand and give her a little wave. Though she couldn't make out his features at this distance, she could envision the half-smile and the familiar spark in his hazel eyes, the one that simultaneously melted her heart and quickened her pulse. She lifted a hand in response and smiled, and then hurried her pace toward the broad double doors that led to the foyer.

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

Ten long minutes later, Leia finally stood in front of the apartment door, willing herself to control her breathing, gazing at the ornate placard bearing the Aurebesh inscription "9-B", which was affixed to the wall overtop of the security scanner.

Upon her arrival to the building's foyer, she had been enthusiastically greeted by both the superintendent and the head of security who, thrilled with making her acquaintance, drew her into a spur-of-the-moment briefing to review the safety and security features of the luxurious, modern building, clearly hoping to impress her with its advanced technologies. Not wishing to appear ungrateful, Leia had allowed herself to be drawn into the impromptu meeting, conscious all the while that Han was upstairs, awaiting her arrival. When she'd finally offered her polite thanks and made her way to the pair of glassine turbolifts that serviced the building's seventeen floors, she was almost jittery with excitement.

Underlying her anticipation, however, was a curious feeling of nervousness that seemed to intensify as she lifted her hand to the access panel. She let it hover there for a moment, noting with a sense of wonder how her stomach fluttered and her throat felt tight. Just as she was about to press her palm to the surface of the panel, a faint chime sounded and the door slid opened with a soft hiss, revealing the tall figure of Han Solo on the other side.

They stared at each other for a moment before Han cracked a grin. "Now's the part where you say, 'Honey, I'm home'," Han instructed. "And I open the wine."

Dropping her hand and raising her eyebrows, Leia made a show of peering around his frame to the vestibule beyond. "You have wine?"

Han's rueful expression said he wished he'd thought to procure some. He shrugged. "Not this time, Sweetheart."

"That's okay. I don't need a drink," she informed him, smiling. "I just need a…." Before she could finish her sentence, Han reached for her, drawing her gently over the threshold and into his embrace, then lowered his head to hers and kissed her. His touch was tender, and for a moment all Leia could do was cling to him, lost in the pleasurable caress of his lips and the sensation of his warm body pressed intimately against hers.

Han broke the kiss and drew back slightly, just enough for Leia to see the flecks of gold sparkling in his hazel eyes. "First kiss in our new place," he murmured, cocking one eyebrow. "How was it?"

Stunned with pleasure, awash in the rush of endorphins that seemed inevitably to follow Han's caresses, Leia nevertheless kept a straight face as she gave a nonchalant little shrug. "Not bad," she opined, sliding her bag from her shoulder and bending slightly to set it down on the floor, before straightening to meet his eyes once more. "Let's see what the second one is like…." Sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him back down and claimed his mouth again, kissing him more deeply. His warm response sent tingling frissons up the length of her spine and set her nerve endings alight.

"Well," Han said in a low rumble when they finally parted. "Welcome home."

Leia broke into a broad smile at those words, feeling a little thrill at how that phrase seemed to connect her to Han in a whole new way. They'd lived in close proximity for years, of course, but always with a line of demarcation when it came to personal space; he'd always had his ship, she'd always had her quarters, and it had taken an exceptionally long time—and fairly extraordinary circumstances—before they'd even begun sharing a bunk. Han's reminder that they now shared a home made Leia's heart leap and flutter in her chest.

Han released her and took a step back, taking both of her hands in his and gazing down at her with a faint smile that shifted gradually into uncertainty, then transformed into a somewhat awkward expression that indicated he wasn't quite sure what to do next. Feeling just as bemused as he appeared, Leia stared back into the depths of his changeable eyes—and then burst out laughing. Releasing his hands, she covered her face with her splayed fingers and shook her head as she gazed at him, unable to put into words what she was feeling in that moment.

Han gaped at her for a moment, and the look of curiosity on his face, mixed now with slight confusion, wracked Leia's body with another little spasm of laughter. A slow grin began to spread across Han's face as the light of understanding dawned in his eyes, and his deep baritone laugh mingled with hers. Drawing her back into his embrace, he wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"It does feel a little weird, doesn't it?" he murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Leia drew a deep breath and expelled it, trying to quell the giddiness that gripped her. "Utterly surreal," she agreed. "But I must admit…," she tilted her face up to his again, "the kisses help."

Han took the broad hint with good grace, obliging her with another sweet kiss on the lips before he pulled back and turned her with him towards the interior of the apartment. As they moved a few steps deeper into the vestibule, the door hissed shut behind them and Leia drew a deep breath.

"Tell you what, Princess," Han proposed, draping an arm over her shoulders, "Let me give you the grand tour. This," he indicated with a wide sweep of his free arm, "is the...uh…."

"Foyer," Leia supplied, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.

"Yeah, that's the word," he grinned. "Lucky for me, the rest of the rooms have normal names."

The broad entrance foyer was unfurnished, but handsomely decorated with floors of polished wood in a rich, dark tone, and a warm candlelight color on the plain walls. The walls themselves were edged with elegant molding at both the base and the crown, the latter drawing Leia's eye upward to an expensive-looking light fixture mounted semi-flush to the hand-finished, textured ceilings. Though the apartment building was smaller than many of the others on the boardwalk, and relatively unassuming from the exterior, it was evident that the interiors had been constructed with the highest quality materials and with expert craftsmanship.

Finally registering what Han had said, Leia glanced up at him. "So, you've already scoped the place out?"

He gave her a meaningful look. "I've been here twenty minutes," he reminded her, "and patience ain't my strong suit."

"Sorry," Leia murmured, slipping her arm around his waist and peering up at him. "I wanted to come straight up, but I got waylaid by the custodians downstairs."

"Yeah, I figured as much. They waylaid me, too," he told her. "I made a couple of circuits while I was waiting. It's a big place, kinda fancy. Something tells me High Command has ambitions for you."

Even without venturing into the rest of the apartment, Leia could see that what Han said was true; the apartment had been selected by someone who assumed she would require or expect a degree of luxury. She grimaced at that realization, wondering if she should have made her expectations a little clearer. She'd been offered even grander accommodation than this at first—the penthouse suite in the same building, in fact—but had declined it and requested something less palatial instead, feeling a little dismayed and slightly embarrassed by the non egalitarian mindset that had prompted such a proposal. Although she recognized the need for a certain level of security in her living arrangements that was concomitant with a certain level of grandeur, she was also aware—as Han seemed to be, as well—that there was a political element to the choice of accommodation. Fleetingly, she wondered what the political ramifications would be once High Command discovered that she'd chosen to share her accommodation with Han, but she quickly set that concern aside. It wasn't the only significant piece of personal information she was withholding from her peers, and she suspected that those other secrets, once revealed, would put her relationship with Han into sharp perspective for anyone who dared to question it.

The vestibule opened onto a broad central avenue that ran perpendicular across the length of the apartment. Directly ahead, Leia could see a bank of tall windows on the other side of a spacious, sunken living area. It was unfurnished, but with its roomy footprint and ample natural light, the space felt welcoming, and Leia could envision it becoming a favorite location to relax and unwind at the end of a day.

She was suddenly grateful that High Command had allocated funds to furnish the place, and even more grateful that the building's concierge had a selection of color schemes, styles and layouts from which to choose, as well as staff to put their choices in place; otherwise, she suspected, the task of furnishing and decorating the apartment might never be accomplished. The demands on her time seemed to double with each passing day as the work of the Provisional Senate got underway in earnest, and Han would soon be deployed again to parts unknown for an indeterminate length of time. Furthermore, Leia suspected, Han didn't know any more about interior design or decorating than she did; they could use all the help they could get.

"Some view," Han commented, gesturing towards the windows and the balcony beyond. "You can see the whole harbor from up here, and the edge of the Silver Sea. C'mon, I'll show you."

He'd taken a few strides in the direction of the living area when Leia noticed something odd; Han was bereft of footwear, sporting nothing but a pair of socks, thinning slightly at the heels, on his normally boot-clad feet.

"Han," she asked with amusement, "what happened to your boots?"

Swiveling back in her direction, he gestured. "Over there, by the door. I took 'em off."

Arching one eyebrow, Leia stole a glance behind her. His scuffed and well-worn spacer's boots were indeed beside the door, lying in a heap where they'd been discarded. "And you took them off…why?" she queried.

"Well, look," he said as he gestured again, this time at the carpeted floor of the sunken living room. "Some bright spark thought it'd be a great idea to put white carpets down in there."

"They're not white, they're cream."

Han stared at her for a moment in bewilderment, as if she'd suddenly begun speaking in Shyriiwook, then shook his head slowly. "Okay, cream, then."

"So you took your boots off to keep the carpets clean?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that what people—?" Han rolled his eyes and glanced away, looking slightly discomfited. "Ah, hell, I'm used to walkin' on deck plates, Princess. Didn't want to mess anything up…."

Leia struggled to hide a smile. For a man who was used to living on a tramp freighter, unaccustomed to such plush surroundings, she found his efforts to keep their new place pristine incredibly endearing.

"What's so funny?" Han's voice held a slightly defensive tone that made Leia shake her head to forestall any misunderstandings.

She pressed her lips together, riding out a little wave of melancholy that swelled beneath her breast, a familiar feeling that nevertheless took her unawares every time it happened. "Nothing. It's just—."

"It's just, what?"

"It's just a little...funny…in an odd way," Leia told him as she bent to slip off her own shoes and then stepped over to set them down next to Han's boots on the floor. Straightening up, she turned back in his direction and gave him a smile that felt a little tremulous. "We seldom wore shoes indoors...well, at home, I mean. On Alderaan."

"Ah," Han tilted his head back in sudden comprehension, then gave her a wan smile and opened his arms.

Leia crossed the short distance between them and slipped into his embrace once more, burying her face against his chest for a moment and feeling grateful for his quiet understanding. For years, she hadn't been able to speak of Alderaan without first steeling herself and hardening her heart, and even then she'd been able to talk about bare facts, and only when it was strictly necessary. Fondly recalling happy times with friends and family she would never see again, and speaking in an idle way about the lost customs of her family's household was not something she'd ventured to do until very recently, and only in the presence of the beings she trusted most—the three who'd become her new family—Han, Luke and Chewbacca. The danger such recollections presented to her composure made it risky conversational territory that Leia usually tried to avoid.

"No shoes in the house unless we were entertaining formally," she murmured against Han's chest, tentatively continuing her reverie. "It was common practice to slip them off at the door so as not to track in dirt from the streets...something we did at the homes of close friends, too, on casual visits." Leia drifted into memories of those long-ago days before she'd become involved in politics, government and rebellion; simpler days, before the Empire took away everyone and everything she held dear. She gave herself a mental shake, shrugging off the gloomy thoughts. "Anyway," Leia stretched up to place a soft kiss on Han's jaw, and then drew away, smiling. "It's probably not even necessary here. The carpets in a place like this are sure to be treated with some type of high-tech saniguard."

Han gave a little grunt of acknowledgement. "Good to know."

"But now that I think of it," Leia mused aloud, "I don't suppose I've had a place since then where I could safely walk around in my bare feet…." Her voice trailed off, as she lapsed into private thought. It was an odd little detail to recall at this juncture, she supposed, but it was true; not even in her cabin aboard Home One, nor in any barracks or officers quarters on any base, and of course not aboard the Millennium Falcon. The old freighter's environmental controls did only the minimum to mitigate against the bitter cold of space travel, and there were always loose bits of wire and detritus littering the deckplates, threatening injury to tender feet.

By contrast, the hardwood floors of the foyer felt pleasantly warm and smooth against her skin. Peering down at her own bare toes, Leia glanced at Han's stockinged feet and then angled her gaze upwards and smiled. "You never go barefoot," she observed, realizing as she spoke that the only time she ever saw him without footwear was in the shower or in bed. "It feels wonderful. Try it."

Gamely, Han stripped off each of his own socks, and then tossed them carelessly in the general direction of his boots. He stood in his bare feet on the hardwood, flexing his absurdly long toes and grinning down at Leia.

"I told you it feels great," she confirmed with an air of satisfaction. "And see that switch by the door? The floors are heated. You'll never need to wear socks indoors again."

Han shook his head, still grinning. "Careful, Sweetheart. If I get too used to these little luxuries, I'll have to modify the Falcon to match."

"There are worse things you could do to that rust bucket," Leia smiled.

"Hey," Han said in a tone of happy revelation, jerking a thumb back in the direction of the control switch for the underfloor heating. "Does that mean you'll stop sticking your freezing feet on me when you get into bed?"

Leia gave him a sweetly sour smile and then gestured towards the sunken living area. "You were showing me around, remember?"

Leaving the vestibule, they crossed the broad hardwood expanse that bisected the apartment from east to west, and then stepped down into the plushly carpeted living room. Leia paused for a moment to scrunch her feet into the thick, soft pile, luxuriating in the feeling of the fuzzy fibers caressing the spaces between her toes, and then gave Han a pointed look until he copied suit. They grinned at each other and then Han swiveled around and gestured at the far wall, cocking his head to one side. "Whaddaya think, Princess? Hundred and fifty centimeter holovision screen mounted right over there?"

"A hundred and what?" Leia snorted. "Do you need corrective vision surgery or something? I don't think so."

Han feigned a pained expression as he sank down to the carpeted floor, and then tugged gently on Leia's wrist until she sat cross-legged beside him, both of them facing the blank wall in question. "Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun," he cajoled, leaning his shoulder against hers. "I can just imagine it right now. The smashball Galactic Cup is on, we're rooting for the Outer Rim planets, you're bringing me bottles of ale…."

Leia elbowed him and cocked an eyebrow. "We're rooting for the Mid-Rim planets, you mean. And I suppose you also imagine me in the kitchen rustling up the appropriate comestibles to go along with that ale?"

"That depends on what you're wearing while you're rustling," Han leered playfully, then sat back on straightened arms and gave her a quizzical look. "What the hell is a comestible, anyway?"

"It means food," Leia explained, silently marveling over the fact that Han's ribald banter had completely lost its ability to rile her.

"You, cooking? Hell no, Princess. I like being alive," he teased, defending against her punitive jab with ease. "Anyway, I'd never expect you to cater to me; besides, the guys would bring the whole spread anyway. Voronki wings, fried greezi…"

"What guys? Leia questioned, angling her head back in his direction and narrowing her eyes.

"You know, Luke, Wedge, Hobbie...those guys."

Leia turned up her nose. "In other words, Rogue Squadron would happily contribute to your coronary syndrome."

"Sweetheart," Han said, leaning in close so that his breath stirred tendrils of her hair against her cheek, "you're the only thing in this big, wide galaxy that has ever had any effect on my heart."

With a snort of amusement at his blatantly mushy attempt to make her smile, Leia tilted her face to his and they shared another kiss, one that lingered and gradually shifted into a series of sensuous caresses that brought a flush of heat to Leia's skin. "Ah," she sighed dreamily when their lips parted, "that certainly makes this place feel a little more like home."

"Happy to be of service," Han grinned, rising to his feet and extending his hand to help Leia do the same. "A kiss in every room, then," he proposed, giving her a wink, "to help us settle in."

"Deal," Leia agreed, taking his proffered hand and standing up beside him. "And if the Lothal Loth-Cats ever win the Cup, you can have your hundred-centimeter holovision screen."

"Hundred and fifty," Han corrected, hooking an arm around her shoulder and guiding her toward the balcony doors. "Don't sell the Cats short."

Han palmed the door control and the glass panel slipped open with a soft hiss, admitting a rush of cool sea air and a distant wash of noise from the city far below. Leia stepped out onto the balcony, gasping a little at the sensation of cold duracrete against the bare soles of her feet. Han followed close behind and the two of them crossed the short distance to the edge, then leaned companionably over the broad chromium rail that topped the thick, tempered glassine panels of the balcony enclosure. Nine stories down, the harbor continued about its business as scores of watercraft plied the deep waters, the hum of repulsors blending with the purr and whine of engines and the occasional clang of a bell. The boardwalk was similarly teeming with activity; at this hour, the numerous cafes, pubs and restaurants along the harbor's edge were doing a brisk business as colleagues, friends and families gathered for an evening meal or drinks. White-winged bulabirds soared and wheeled through the air above and below the level of the balcony, their shrill cries playing counterpoint to the faint, happy shrieks of children racing and jumping everywhere along the busy thoroughfare.

"Hard to believe there's a war on, watching all that," Han remarked, bumping Leia's shoulder gently with his own.

Leia nodded her agreement but didn't speak. She'd been thinking exactly the same thing, and though she was well aware that there remained an enormous amount of work left to be done to drive the still-dangerous Imperial remnants out of the Core—and, eventually, beyond the Outer Rim—she was unable to stifle the leaping sense of hope she felt as she watched the perfectly mundane scenes far below.

It's going to end, she thought with sudden clarity, and felt her stomach flutter as the truth of that notion finally hit her. This war is actually going to end, and we're going to have a home where we can watch smashball games with our friends, and walk around in our bare feet, and sleep in a real bed. The relative modesty of her new personal ambitions made her smile.

The lowering sun created lengthening shadows that fell across the water, and dark clouds were bunching up on the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of impending rain, mingling with the sharp, salty tang of the sea on the breeze. Flickers of lightning illuminated the distant clouds, and the first faint rumblings of thunder echoes across the waves. At this altitude, the breeze was brisk, and Leia shivered a little as she squinted against the light buffeting that whipped strands of her hair free of its loose arrangement. She was wearing a simple but elegant ensemble, comprised of a neatly fitted tunic over loosely tapered trousers, and while the lightweight ivory fabric of her top was suitable for a day at the Senate House, it did little to protect her from the elements.

Attuned to her unspoken needs as he always was, Han slipped an arm across her lower back, encircled her waist, and tucked her in close against his body. She leaned into him with a sigh, tipping her head up to meet his warm gaze, and smiled. The breeze ruffled his hair and the slanting rays of the setting sun kissed his handsome face, illuminating the light bronze of his skin and the green-gold and grey of his eyes as he looked down at her. Leia scanned his features at close range, lifting one hand to let her fingers follow her eyes, tracing the contours of his brow and cheek, down to the edge of his jaw, rough with late-afternoon stubble, before grazing a thumb over his generous lower lip. He bent his head to capture her mouth with his, and Leia turned in his arms, sliding her arms up around his neck, and giving herself up completely to his kiss. The tantalizing movements of Han's mouth against hers combined with the stroke of his hands rubbing gently up and down the length of her back to generate a heat that warmed her from within, but the chill of the ocean breeze nevertheless raised a shiver to her exposed flesh. Bereft of even the modest boost in height provided by her shoes, she'd stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him, but now subsided, drawing her arms down between them to shelter in his embrace.

"You're cold," Han observed, releasing her to run his fingers over the prickled skin of her forearms. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go check out the rest of the place."

Nodding her agreement, Leia turned and led the way through a second sliding glass panel a little further along, this one opening into the room adjacent to the living area and opposite the kitchen. The space was clearly meant to hold a dining table—a rather large dining table, judging by the generous dimensions of the room. Finished with the same neutral colors on the walls and the same dark wood flooring as in the rest of the apartment, the dining room abutted the broad central avenue that bisected the apartment, which opened into the spacious kitchen beyond. There, the polished wood planking gave way to gleaming tile floors rimmed by handsome carved-wood cabinets that surrounded a central island, forming a deep U-shape that felt open and inviting.

"Now, that beats the mess hall any day," Leia commented, brushing past Han and starting for the kitchen.

"Ah-ah-ah," Han admonished, catching her hand and giving her a gentle tug back. "No fair skippin' rooms."

Leia smirked up at him as she turned, happy to indulge again in their little housewarming game. Han tucked a few stray wisps of hair behind her ear and tilted her face to his, one hand gently cupping her chin, before lowering his head to capture her lips in another deep, lingering kiss that left Leia swaying on her feet.

"That's the dining room checked off," he murmured, peppering her chin and jawline with a few more tiny little kisses before nibbling his way to her ear. "And if you've seen one kitchen you've seen 'em all." He lowered his voice to that subterranean rumble that made the fine hairs on Leia's body try to stand on end. "Let's go find our bedroom…."

Leia hid a smirk. Han knew exactly what he was doing with that deep, gravelly voice and his warm lips just brushing against her ear, but as tempting as she found his suggestion, she wasn't quite ready to give in.

"Ah-ah-ah," she echoed his earlier admonishment, expending some effort to keep her voice from trembling. "No fair skipping rooms, remember?" Leia carefully extricated herself from his embrace and moved forward into the kitchen area. She raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of Han's holster rig tossed haphazardly on one of the counters. At some point during his explorations of the apartment, she surmised, he must have removed it and set it aside, satisfied that the empty apartment held no threats to their security.

Already leaving his things lying around, she mused with a smile. Reaching out as she circled around one side of the broad island, she traced a finger admiringly over the polished granite counter top. "It's beautiful."

"Pretty slick, eh? And the appliances have all the latest tech," Han remarked, circling around the island from the opposite direction to meet her halfway. Though he continued to make small talk about the miscellaneous merits of the kitchen, his gaze upon Leia was intent. "I can imagine cooking some pretty nice meals in here."

"You mean you can imagine Chewie cooking some pretty nice meals in here," she rejoined.

"Hey, I can cook!"

"Sure. As long as it's reconstituted root mash."

"Well, Your Highness, that's a damn sight better than your last effort. Some days I still catch a little whiff of burnt Nerf steak, floating through the Falcon. I think it seeped into the bulkhead, along with all the smoke."

"Tell you what, Flyboy," Leia retorted, "I'll leave you and Chewie to handle the cooking, if you'll leave ordering takeout to me. That I can do like a pro." Her gaze tracked around the kitchen, slightly awed by the sheer size. On its own, it was larger than most of the quarters she'd occupied in her entire tenure with the Alliance. "Still, it is a little bit much, isn't it?" She gestured at the expensive-looking appliances, the gleaming metal sinks with their stylish fittings set into glossy granite countertops, and the exquisite craftsmanship of the modern cabinetry. All of the elements combined to create a space that seemed almost absurdly luxurious, even to Leia's more refined sensibilities.

Han shrugged.

"Is it too much, this place?" Leia asked, not realizing until she'd said it aloud that the idea was a little worrisome. She wondered with a slight feeling of unease if Han could ever really feel at home in a place like this. She had been so excited to begin this new phase of their lives, she hadn't considered that the change in circumstances and setting might be discomfiting for him. Growing up as a member of a Royal House, Leia was accustomed to luxuries far surpassing these, but after more than ten years with a ramshackle old Corellian freighter as his only abode, Han was assuredly not. She realized, with a glimmer of self-reproach, that she hadn't even thought to ask him before she agreed to take this apartment, without first investigating the type of accommodation High Command had in mind.

"Doesn't bother me," Han said, breaking into her thoughts. He reached for her and drew her near. "I don't care where we live."

We. Han used the term so naturally, in a matter-of-fact tone that removed all doubt from Leia's mind and gave her a warm glow inside. But it wasn't just his words; she could feel the strength of his commitment radiating from him through the Force, and she could see the absolute sincerity and love in the depths of his hazel eyes.

"So you'd live anywhere?" she teased, encircling his waist with her arms and tilting her head back to look at his face. "Somewhere even grander than this, perhaps?"

"Anywhere with you, Princess," he murmured in a serious tone, and then pressed his lips against her temple.

Leia's heart, already full to the breaking point, swelled a little more in her chest, and her throat tightened. "How is it that you always say the right thing at exactly the right time?" she managed.

He shrugged and drew back to look at her. "Maybe 'cause I had so many years of practice saying the wrong thing?" Han cracked a grin. "Anyway, I know that mushy stuff gets you every time."

Leia broke into a grin of her own at Han's attempt to lighten the moment, but she knew that his underlying sentiment was sincere. The waves of energy and emotion flowing to her through the Force had reached an almost palpable intensity, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She reached up to cradle his face in her palms and drew him back down to her, kissing him softly at first, then with greater ardency as he edged closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.

The flame that had been ignited in the foyer and stoked by the kisses in the living room, on the balcony and in the dining area flared anew and Leia slid her hands upwards to thread her fingers through Han's hair as she returned his advances with growing intensity. She melted against him and felt him begin to edge her gently backwards, until the small of her back touched the firm granite lip of the center island behind her.

"These counters are perfect," Han opined, running his hands across the smooth surface to either side of Leia's body.

Breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder, Leia gave a shrug, somewhat bemused by his resumption of small-talk. "If you say so."

"Yeah, they're nice and deep," Han continued, drawing his arms in and encircling Leia's waist. "And just the right height."

As soon as he said it, she realized what he had in mind, just in time to clutch at his shoulders as he boosted her up, laughing, onto the counter. Now at eye level with him, Leia felt the liquid pull of desire tugging at her core the way it always did when Han looked at her this way, with that sultry glint in his hooded eyes. He nudged her knees apart and stepped between them, settling himself between her thighs as he leaned in and tilted his face towards hers once more. She met him halfway, parting her lips to allow the tip of his tongue to slide inside, teasing and then tangling with her own, sending wild shivers racing along her every nerve. Leia gave herself over to the exquisite sensations evoked by the movements of his mouth on hers and the insistent motion of his hands as they skimmed up her sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts and brushing lightly against her nipples with a tantalizing touch. He eased forward, closing the tiny gap that remained between them. Ghosting his hands down the length of her spine to the small of her back, he rocked his hips against her, leaving Leia with no doubt whatsoever as to his current state of mind or his intention. She hooked her legs around his narrow hips and moaned softly, rolling her own hips in response, as a jolt of pure pleasure coursed through her body. It was rare that they had an opportunity to indulge in the simple pleasure of being so openly physical with one another, at least anywhere apart from the bunkroom on the Falcon. Here, though, they were completely alone. The fact didn't appear to be lost on Han either, who seemed keen to take full advantage of the situation. Through the hazy mist of building desire, though, Leia's inner voice of reason whispered to her, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders to nudge him gently back.

"Not on the counter," she cautioned, panting lightly.

"Why not?" Han grunted, his eyes at half-mast and his lips still intent upon traversing the skin of her throat.

"Well," Leia tilted her chin up, trying to keep her thoughts together as his warm mouth continued its downward travels. It didn't help at all that his hands were now on her thighs, the heat of his palms palpable through the thin fabric of her fitted slacks. She squirmed with pleasure as his thumbs moved inward in slow synchrony, drawing gentle, inexorable patterns up the inside of her thighs. "It's...it's...unhygienic," she finally managed.

Han's lips and thumbs ceased their movements as he lowered his forehead to her collarbone, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"What?"

"Never mind, Sweetheart," he murmured, still smiling, and then shifted his angle to nibble on the tender lobe of her ear. "How about the floor, then…."

"Cold tiles? I don't think so."

Han drew back and gave her a sly grin. "The floors are heated, remember?"

"Nice try."

Han put on an exaggerated expression of disappointment as he took a step back, but then he repositioned himself slightly to one side, slipped one arm around Leia's back, tucked the other under her knees and lifted her. Leia gave a startled little yelp and grabbed onto him.

"What—, wait, Han," she admonished, laughing. "Put me down."

"For some reason, there are two bedrooms," he informed her, ignoring her token protests as he swiveled around and then paced, with Leia in his arms, to the edge of the kitchen area. "One at either end," he motioned with his head first in one direction down the open central corridor, then in the other. "Though why they gave you two is beyond me. Hope nobody thinks I'm gonna be sleeping in the guest room."

"I asked for two. And it's not a guest room; it's for Chewie." As she spoke, she released the grip of her hand on his shoulder and reached up to smooth back the hair from his forehead and temple, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of touching him.

Turning his head, Han stared at her blankly. "For Chewie?"

"Of course, for Chewie. You don't think we'd expect him to stay on the Falcon when he's planetside, do you?"

Leia saw the light of amazement and gratitude kindle in Han's eyes, and a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "He's as much at home on the Falcon as I am, but he'll appreciate the gesture and the change of scene," he said with certainty. "In fact, he'll love it. Hope the place comes with a cleaning droid, though. There's gonna be Wookiee hair all over."

Leia smiled. Cradled close to Han's chest with her bare feet dangling and her arms wrapped around his neck, she thought perhaps she should feel ridiculous. Instead, she felt quite the opposite; nestled in the warmth of his arms, she felt abundantly cherished, treasured, and secure.

"So, pick a room," Han prompted, giving her a little jostle. "Which one do you want to be ours?"

"Aren't they exactly the same?" Leia queried absently, tightening one arm around his neck to draw herself up close enough to kiss his stubbled cheek. She carried on kissing him then, nuzzling his jaw and the tender skin behind his ear. He was so warm and he smelled divine, and something about the way he was carrying her, his strong arms holding her aloft with apparent ease, made her thrum with desire.

Han paused, his answer delayed as he seemed to lose himself for a moment in the sensations she was causing with her lips against his neck. Leia saw his eyes flutter briefly, and he cleared his throat. "They're almost identical," he rasped, "Except one has a fresher with a shower big enough for two, and the other has a hot tub."

"Hot tub," Leia voted, the fingers of her free hand already beginning to work at the fasteners of his shirt.

"Good choice," Han confirmed, turning left as he exited the kitchen, and then moving towards the broad corridor on the other side of the entrance vestibule. "Farthest from the kitchen. When Chewie's in there ransacking the chiller in the middle of the night, he ain't gonna hear you making any strange noises."

Leia drew her head back and thumped him lightly on the shoulder. "Hear me?" she said, in a tone of mild indignation. "You're the one who makes all the noise."

"Ask Chewie," Han said with a wicked smile, glancing down at her as he walked. "I think he may have a different opinion on that."

"Han!"

"What? Can I help it if he's got better hearing than the rest of us? Besides, it's not like he'd ever say anything." Han's grin widened, showing a flash of even white teeth. "Not to you, anyway. So," he asked, finally reaching the threshold of the expansive bedroom, "where are we going to put the bed?"

Leia looked around. The spacious room was easily quadruple the size of the Falcon's bunkroom, if not a little bigger, and it was positioned on the same side of the apartment as the living and dining areas, which meant that the vast windows on the wall to their right overlooked Lumelemi harbor. Although the sun was now only just above the horizon, its lingering light filled the room with a warm, golden glow. The wall on their left featured a closed door that led, Leia presumed, to the adjoining fresher.

"There," she said, nodding towards the far side of the roughly rectangular room, opposite the door. "With the head of the bed against the wall."

"Perfect." Han crossed the room to the spot Leia had indicated and lowered himself to one knee, setting her down with care on the plush carpeting.

Leia released her hold around his neck and started to lean back but, before Han could straighten up, she slid her hands down the front of his shirt and gave the fabric a gentle tug. "Lie down with me," she whispered, stretching out on her back.

Looking down, Han held her gaze, a faint smile playing around the corner of his mouth, as he knelt beside her and stripped off his black vest. "I plan to," he informed her, raking her supine form with his hungry eyes. Leia smiled back, watching as his nimble fingers made quick work of the remaining fasteners of his shirt. He tugged the hem free and shed the shirt, too, tossing it aside in the direction of the vest. Admiring the flex of lean muscle as he moved, she waited until he'd finished, then patted the carpet beside her hip.

"I mean lie here, next to me."

Han's smile turned slightly quizzical, but he complied, planting one hand on the floor and swiveling around to sit on his haunches, before stretching out on his back alongside her, tucking one bent arm behind his head. Leia relaxed into a similar position beside him, then reached between them for his free hand and entwined her fingers with his.

She was conscious of having abruptly halted the progression of Han's romantic plans—and her own plans, too—and spoiling their momentum. But as Han had set her down on the floor of what would soon become their bedroom, she'd been hit by a wave of strangeness and, inexplicably, a ripple of fear. She had a distinct, surreal sense of disembodiment, as if everything were going just a little too fast or happening to someone else. Feeling slightly disoriented, and finding herself unable to understand the origin of her sudden, intense reaction, she felt the need to pause for a moment to calm herself, catch her breath, and try to bring order to the churning mix of emotions that swirled within her.

"It's strange," Han murmured after a long moment, breaking into her jumbled thoughts. They lay side by side, hands clasped between them, staring up at the ceiling. Han sighed, crossed his long legs at the ankle and gave her hand a little squeeze. "I feel it, too, Sweetheart. Hard to believe this is actually gonna happen—it is happening." His deep voice was soft with reflection.

In his usual fashion, Han had cut straight to the heart of the matter, almost as if he'd been gifted with the ability to read her unspoken thoughts, and was now answering them. Leia thought back to what Luke had said to her recently about the Force, about how he believed that those who were sensitive to its energies might fall somewhere on a spectrum, rather than into one category or another. Luke had even had the temerity to suggest that Han might have the faintest glimmer of that mysterious ability, a vanishingly minuscule amount that nevertheless manifested in his life, appearing as exceptionally good luck or unusually reliable intuition. At times like this, Leia wondered if Luke might be right.

"It's just that…." Leia released a shuddering breath. "For a long time, I tried to reconcile myself to the fact that I would never have a home again, not really." She paused, wrestling with herself, unwilling to give in to self-pity but feeling a pressing need to share with Han all of the emotions that weighed so suddenly but so heavily on her heart, feelings she'd long ago suppressed so that she could function, but which now bubbled up, unbidden, to the surface. She wasn't ordinarily given to great outpourings of emotion—not even with Han, not even in private—but now she felt compelled to speak, knowing on some intuitive level that she needed to face those feelings head-on if she wanted to move forward and embrace the new life that lay before them. Drawing her strength from Han's reassuring presence beside her, she took another shaky breath. "And now that I know I will have a new home, a real one, with you, all I can think about is—" she cut herself off, biting her lip and wishing she had the courage to put the fear into words.

"All you can think about is losing it again," Han supplied. He lifted their joined hands up to his lips and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. "I get that, Sweetheart, I really do. If there's one good thing about having nothing, it's the fact you've got nothing to lose."

"Yes, exactly." Realizing that Han truly did understand, Leia breathed a little sigh of relief. "Before Alderaan was destroyed, I never imagined the possibility of such...enormous losses. I never could've imagined it. It was beyond my scope, entirely."

Han didn't reply, but his hand tightened around hers, offering silent support. Above them, the last light of the Chandrilan sunset glanced across the textured ceiling and began to fade. Leia relaxed a little, settling her head more comfortably atop her own bent arm as she drew her knees up and pressed her bare feet into the plush carpet.

"That's the day I stopped wishing for anything other than the Empire's destruction," Leia continued. "It was all I wanted, all I could think about, for a long time. I was so focused on that, on retribution and… and...justice for my people and...peace...for the whole galaxy…." She paused, closing her eyes for a moment, thinking how grandiose her words sounded, even to her own ears.

"You stopped wanting anything just for yourself," Han observed in a quiet voice, "and you found out that not wanting anything is a pretty good strategy, 'cause it means you can never be disappointed or hurt." He made a rueful vocalization, halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Yeah, I get that, too."

"But now I do want something for myself," Leia whispered and, although she wasn't confessing secrets Han didn't already know, it felt good to say it aloud, to let him hear it. "I want it so much, Han, more than anything. But I also know," she paused, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, "Now I can imagine what it would mean to lose—" she cut herself off again, feeling frustrated with her sudden inability to fully articulate her thoughts, especially at this moment, when it seemed so important for her to do so.

Han released a heavy sigh. "Takes a lot of guts to build another life, Leia, after what you've been through," he acknowledged. "But courage is one thing you've never lacked. You're the bravest person I know."

Leia pressed her lips together, blinking against the sudden sting of tears. "Am I?" she asked, at length, unable to raise her voice above a hoarse whisper. "Then why am I so afraid? Why do I have the feeling that, when I least expect it, this life that I've worked so hard to build—that we've worked so hard to build—will disappear?"

"'Cause you know that's the way life is, Princess. I wish it was different, but the truth is—you never know how long anything's gonna last. And nothing's permanent."

Startled and dismayed by his candor, Leia turned her head to look at him. She stared at his profile for a long moment before he finally rolled his head to the side to meet her gaze. In the fading light of the Chandrilan sunset slanting through the windows, his eyes were a warm, dark green. He gave her a gentle smile.

"It's a fact of life, Sweetheart," he elaborated carefully, squeezing her hand and holding her gaze. "I could get vaporized over Galantos next month, or you could wind up on the wrong end of some assassin's blaster on the way home from work one day, and that would be that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Leia asked, her voice rising querulously.

"Yes? No. I dunno, maybe…," Han said. "I mean…I find it comforting. Sorta."

Leia stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

Han took a deep breath and released it in another sigh. "Look, Princess, I just mean that how it ends...well, that's probably out of our control. And yeah, unless we manage to go out together, one of us is bound to go first, right?"

His stark exposition of her greatest fear made Leia quail inside and she turned her face away, feeling the shaky grip she had on her emotions beginning to falter. She closed her eyes against the truth of it, and bit her lip. When she didn't answer him after a moment, Han released her hand, shifted onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Sweetheart…." The soft entreaty in his tone made her open her eyes and Leia turned her head to find his gaze fixed directly on hers, his eyes warm with love and compassion. He lifted one hand to brush back a few strands of hair from her forehead with his fingertips, then buffed the back of his knuckles softly, affectionately against her cheek.

"You said it yourself," Leia managed, her voice trembling. "It's bound to happen, and it's out of our control, just like—"

"Yeah, the end is out of our control," he interjected gently, dropping his hand down to rest on her belly, the warm, intimate weight of it there a source of sweet comfort. "But before it ends—whatever happens between now and then—we're in charge of that, right? You and me. And it's true; some day, one of us is gonna die." Han dipped his head down slightly to recapture her faltering gaze. "But in the meantime, there's gonna be a lot more days when we don't."

Leia went completely still, as Han's voice seemed to reverberate around the otherwise silent room. The truth of his words resonated within her, humming like the low, deep ring of a gong. After a long moment, she exhaled, realizing only as she did so that she'd been holding her breath. She was struck by the acuity of his words and how swiftly they seemed to have shifted her focus, turning her thoughts away from the inevitable, unknowable end, and back to the present. She gazed up at him, and then reached to touch the curve of his cheek, stroking the coarse stubble along the contours of his jaw. When did you get so wise, Flyboy, she wondered, allowing a faint smile to touch her lips.

"I haven't had a lot of good things come my way in life, but we've got something good here, Leia, something so good," Han said emphatically, his gaze intent upon hers. "Hell, I couldn't even imagine this before I met you, never mind want it for myself. But this…," he slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her close, edging his body tighter against hers as she tilted towards him, allowing him to envelop her in his warmth. "This is…this is…." Words finally failed him and he just shook his head, mutely conveying his feelings with an eloquent gaze.

Leia felt overwhelmed. She could hardly compose a coherent thought, never mind find the words to respond to Han's unprecedented deluge of emotion. He was normally even less disposed towards misty sentimentality than she was, and they almost never discussed their feelings outright. In the early years of their long courtship, Leia mused, they'd gone out of their way to avoid discussing their feelings, being far more inclined to express themselves in other ways. But everything had changed after the events on Bespin. And then, following his rescue from Jabba the Hutt, Han's commitment to Leia became manifest, overt and unquestionable, and hers to him had been richly rewarded and reinforced. That they should once in a while resort to putting at least some of those strong feelings into words was perhaps to be expected, but it still left Leia feeling a little stunned, her heart full to bursting.

"Who knows what life's got in store for us at the end," Han continued, his deep voice breaking into her reverie and calling her attention back to his earnest face. "But I'm banking on it being a long, long time from now." He raised his eyebrows for emphasis, holding her gaze. "Until then, it's you and me, Sweetheart, and we're gonna have a great time." His face relaxed into its most charming grin. "Who knows, maybe we'll even manage to get so old together we can't even chew our burnt Nerf steaks, and we'll have to live out our days on reconstituted root mash."

Moved beyond words by the outpouring of Han's heart and touched by his attempt at levity, Leia gave him a shaky smile. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under her head in a position mirroring Han's own, so close to him that she could feel the rise and fall of every breath he took, with their free limbs entwined.

He was right, she affirmed in a moment of absolute clarity. She felt a great sense of relief for having unburdened herself, simply by acknowledging her fears aloud and for having shared them with Han. But even more importantly, his gentle words had guided her towards the understanding that loss was inevitable.

No, she amended to herself, not the understanding of that fact—the acceptance of it. She already understood it well enough. She also understood that any attempts to avoid loss or to mitigate it would be futile; if she dared to love Han—and she did love him, fiercely, with all her heart—and wanted to make a life with him, then she might someday face devastation all over again, and there was no way around it. To try and evade that possibility would be to deprive them both of something truly special, meaningful and lasting: a life together that would make their eventual end, whenever it came, worth the pain of parting. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision so that she could focus on Han's face.

The fading of the light had changed his eyes from warm green to cool grey, and he held her gaze unwaveringly, tracking her movements as she lifted herself up on one elbow once more and offered him another tremulous smile. He shifted and followed suit, returning her smile with one of his own, while Leia struggled to find the right words to say. It was ironic that Han, often laconic to the point of being terse, had been able and willing to spell his feelings out so plainly, while she—the consummate, articulate politician—could scarcely speak. But, in this moment, words were too weak, too limiting and imprecise to possibly convey the depth of love and gratitude that filled her heart. Although nothing material had changed since she'd broached the subject a few moments earlier, and though the point Han had made was a simple one, Leia felt profoundly moved by it, fundamentally changed, as if a switch had been flipped inside her head, forever altering her perception.

Yes, one day, she would lose him—or he would lose her—but in the meantime….

In the meantime….

She leaned toward him, and he met her offered kiss, his warm lips clinging to hers in a series of soft, slow, lingering caresses that made Leia's pulse throb. The gentle pressure of his mouth against hers and the cradle of his hand around the back of her head held her in sweet suspension for a long moment, his touch connecting them like the completion of a circuit that brought all of Leia's senses flickering back online.

Flooded with sensation, she was astonished all over again by the taste of him, the texture of his lips, the scent of his skin; and then by the sound and feel of him moving, pulling, pressing, wanting her, asking for more. Through the Force she could feel him yearning for her, his desire as potent as her own. His hand, now on her waist, slipped over to the small of her back, and then he pulled her tight against him, so tight she could feel the powerful beating of his heart, hard and fast, and her own rhythm surging almost in time. She lifted a hand to caress his face as one kiss blended into the next, marveling anew at how their lips fit so neatly together, lock and key; the way the muscles of Han's cheek and jaw moved under her fingertips as he deepened the contact between them, gently coaxing her lips apart with the teasing tip of his tongue. She opened to him, welcoming the warmth of his tongue now sliding against hers in increasingly intimate communication, telling her everything, and asking again. She moaned—the only answer she could give in that moment—and felt Han smile against her lips.

Breathlessly they shifted and strained to get even closer, arms and legs tangling as they began tugging and pulling at each other's clothes, craving more, not stopping until both were bare and they were entwined once again. The touch of his fingers in her hair, finding and removing every pin and tossing them carelessly aside, reduced her artful arrangement to glorious ruin, tumbling all around her shoulders and down her back.

And then they slowed their feverish tempo, clinging together as they kissed and caressed, their whispered endearments and breathless moans filling the room with erotic susurration. Leia ran her hands all over Han's body, covering him with a million kisses as she strived to convey through touch all of the words she couldn't speak. In reply, Han devoured her, his hungry lips and tongue everywhere on her skin, his powerful hands stroking every centimeter of her body, fueling her desire and making her feel so treasured, so wanted, so loved. In the deepening twilight their eyes caught and held, communicating silently their understanding of the significance of the moment: their first nightfall together, wrapped in each other's arms in a home they now shared, made all the more joyful by the refreshed perspective imparted through Han's wise words.

He rolled onto his back, taking Leia with him, the two of them moving together in synchronous harmony. From this position, Han took a loving inventory of her form, sliding his hands over the contours of her body from head to toe. She straightened above him, and his warm palms skimmed up to cup the weight of her breasts, stroked across the curves of her shoulders, and trailed down over her elbows. His fingers traced the fine bones of her hands and encircled her wrists; trailed in lazy patterns around her knees and then up the length of her thighs, reverently cataloging every subtle feature of her exposed skin. Leia reveled in his touch and the impossibly delicious frissons of sensation that coursed through her, elicited by each new caress of exploration.

She balanced astride him as he touched her, her knees and toes digging into the soft carpet pile as she shifted forward, running her hands appreciatively over the taut planes of his abdomen and chest, as fascinated as she always was by the feel of firm muscle under smooth flesh. Her long hair swayed as she moved, then dropped like a curtain all around his face when she leaned down to kiss him, capturing his lips with gentle fervor. With her body curved around his, she planted open-mouthed kisses along the line of his jaw and down the angle of his neck, then nestled her face into the hollow just above his collarbone, nuzzling his warm skin and pressing little kisses there, too. Beneath her, Han's powerful body surged with desire, his restless hands kneading, soothing, warming her everywhere, before sliding down to cup her bottom. Gripping his shoulders to steady herself, Leia pressed the aching center of her core, already slick with need, against his hard length, using her body to make him arch beneath her, delighted to render him slack-jawed and gasping. In the darkening room, the only sounds were their harsh breaths and the low groans of pleasure that escaped Han's lips as Leia stroked and kissed and squirmed against him.

Straightening up, she gathered her hair away from her flushed face, twisting it and winding it around itself to make a loose, heavy knot at the nape of her neck. Han watched her with hooded eyes, his hot hands still roaming, thumbs and fingers raising shivers of prickled flesh as they traveled over her skin. Leia felt the vague heat of friction blossom in the tender flesh of her knees as she rocked against him, but it was little more than a fleeting thought, more than overshadowed by the intense sensations of his calloused fingers trailing over the sensitive, quivering skin of her breasts and belly. His roughened thumbs stroked the crease of her thighs, and her world narrowed down to pure sensation, to the feel of his hard muscles tensing, the rumble of his voice, incoherent but imploring, and the heat of his desire rising hard and insistent beneath her.

Leia rose above him, just enough to tantalize, just enough to make his eyes fly open and the grip of his hands tighten on her hips, before she reached between them and brought him, rock hard and throbbing, to her core. Han hissed a breath through his teeth and arched his hips, groaning his desperate need for completion, but Leia hovered above him for a moment longer, just out of reach, teasing his arousal and exulting in her ability to drive him—and herself—half-mad with desire. When she finally sank slowly down, taking him into her body with a breathless gasp, Han groaned deep in his throat, focusing on her with dark eyes that glinted with hungry desire. Then he smiled, his white teeth flashing in the fading light, his eyes crinkling up in an expression of such pure and simple happiness that it made Leia's heart ache to see it. She smiled back, her heart overflowing with the same pure feeling. Reaching for his hands, she guided his touch back to her breasts as she began a steady, languid rhythm, speaking to him with her body in an ancient language she was only just beginning to comprehend, one of commitment and absolute trust, where every touch was a softly whispered affirmation, every gentle stroke of skin against skin bearing witness to the depth of the bond they shared. And then, for a long time, there was only sensation—blissful and sweet—without thought, without weight, without words, and with nothing but the echo of their own ragged breathing and the primal sounds of their bodies communicating in the language of love.

At length, and with a feral growl, Han gathered her into his strong embrace and shifted, rolling in one swift motion and taking her with him. Her hair, falling from its makeshift knot, cascaded wildly over her shoulders as they moved, and then splayed out across the carpet above her head as she came to rest on her back. She gasped as Han settled his weight between her thighs and began moving within her once more, driving his hips forward with thick, generous strokes that made Leia's eyes roll back in sheer pleasure. The change in position brought with it a delicious, heady new sensation of fullness and friction that made her moan and writhe, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him, urging him to quicken the pace, longing to take him deeper. He was so attuned to her, so in touch with her unspoken desires, and he knew how much she craved this, craved his weight upon her, filling her senses with his scent and his heat. He enveloped her not just with the warmth of his physical body, but with the even warmer aura of his presence; his unseen essence, suffused with all of his love and devotion, flowed through her in dizzying waves through the Force, mingling with the blissful sensations he elicited from her body.

Groaning her name over and over, Han's rhythm changed and the language between them became something different, something demanding, almost needy. Leia felt her body balancing on the verge of that glorious precipice, the rhythm of Han's powerful movements pushing her closer to the edge with every fluid thrust. The only word she could speak was his name, and she breathed it, moaned it, her voice pitching up to a keening edge, saying his name like a plea for the sweet release that only he could give.

And then he found it: that exquisitely delicate combination of angle and pressure and pace that fractured her senses and shot her over the brink—into blind oblivion and roiling, rhythmic waves of pure pleasure. Moaning, still breathing Han's name in fervent supplication, Leia arched her spine, clutched at his shoulders and took him with her.

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

A flicker of lightning briefly illuminated the dark room and brought Leia, blinking, back from a foggy state of satiated bliss into hazy awareness. The celestial display outside the windows was followed a moment later by a roll of thunder, somewhat muted by the apartment's sound-dampening panes and the noise-attenuating materials built into its sturdy walls. Through the glass, Leia could see a slice of the grey Chandrilan sky, but it seemed the sun had set while their attentions were focused elsewhere, and what remained of the evening's silvery light was little more than a dull illumination that fell upon the darkened sill, too feeble to penetrate any further. The rain that had threatened earlier had begun in earnest, pattering steadily against the window and trickling in thin rivulets down the pane.

Leia tried to stir, feeling pleasantly woozy, but found she couldn't move much more than her head and one arm, sprawled as she was on the floor with half of Han's limp, heavy form draped over her like a living, breathing blanket, his tousled head resting next to hers. The weight of his limbs across her body was a sweet comfort, making her feel warm and protected, and she took a moment to savor the feeling, trying to commit every subtle detail to memory. The reality of their responsibilities—and the inevitable absences that came with them—often kept them apart for longer than either of them cared for, and it was fond memories of moments like this from which she drew the strength to endure those separations.

Leia threaded her fingertips through Han's thick hair as another flicker of lightning briefly illuminated his face. His eyes were closed and his features slack, but the flicker of his short lashes against his cheeks told her he was still awake, although clearly in a state of deep relaxation and enjoying her tender caresses. Smiling, she trailed her fingers down his neck and along his collarbone. His skin was still slightly damp from their exertions and, though it was fading, she could still feel heat pulsing just below the surface. She continued her tactile travels, walking her fingers over the well-defined muscles of his shoulder, then curving around the compact bulge of his biceps before sliding her hand down the angle of his arm, enjoying the tickle of crisp hairs against her palm. His broad hand, draped possessively over her hip, twitched to life when she touched it, and curled around hers in a warm grip.

Leia adored studying Han when he was in this state—slightly dazed from the intensity of their passion, deliriously happy and relaxed. A little too relaxed, in fact. With much of his weight resting on her ribs, Leia became acutely aware of her inability to draw a full breath. She nudged him gently, and then again—a little more insistently—when he didn't respond. He finally roused, lifting his head to meet her gaze with slightly bleary eyes and a drowsy smile, mumbling apologies as he lifted his large frame off her. Rolling onto his back, he gathered her into the crook of one arm and folded his other behind his head. Nestling against his long body, Leia planted a kiss on the smooth plane of his chest, sighing at the familiar, salty taste of his skin, and then rested her head, the fingers of her free hand splayed across his abdomen, feeling content for the moment just to listen to the lulling rhythm of his heart.

At the sound of another, more ominous rumble of thunder, Leia slanted her gaze back up at the window. Outside, the rainfall had intensified and was now falling in heavy sheets that sluiced down the pane, obscuring the view of the dull grey sky. Intermittent flashes of lightning lit the dim room with ever-increasing frequency, with rolls of crashing thunder following closely behind.

As if in response to the elements, Leia's stomach rumbled audibly. Han chuckled, covering her hand with his own where it lay across his belly, linking his fingers with hers and giving them a gentle squeeze. "Something tells me you haven't eaten," he sallied.

"I'm starving," Leia admitted. "I had such a busy day, I barely had time to think about food."

Han grunted. "Yeah, I'm hungry, too. Turns out all this settling down gives me a big appetite." He yawned around a smile and then released a contented sigh. "We can pick something up on the way back to the Falcon. Though we might wanna wait out that storm. It's a long walk back to the speeder."

"That's okay. I'd rather order in, anyway," Leia said, tipping her face up to his. "I'd like to stay here, just a little while longer, if you don't mind?" Her body was cooling rapidly; she shivered, and snuggled back into the shelter of his embrace to stave off the chill.

Han tightened his arm around her and angled his head to press a soft kiss into her hair. "Fine with me, Sweetheart. Whatever you want," he murmured. "But I'll leave the ordering to you. You're the pro, right?"

"Right."

For an age, they lay wrapped in the warmth of each other's arms, listening to the muffled howl of the wind and the pelting of the rain against the glass.

"So…," Leia ventured at length, her voice sounding a little tremulous to her own ears. "You really think we can do this?"

"Do what?"

"This…" Leia gestured vaguely, indicating the apartment and everything to do with it. "You know. Be...domestic?"

"Uh, looks like we're doing it right now?"

Leia disengaged herself slightly from his grip, shifted up onto one elbow and drew back to study his face. "I'm serious. What about all the other stuff? Cooking, cleaning, shopping…." She gestured again, feebly, feeling out of her depth. "I don't have the faintest idea how to run a household."

"Sweetheart, you know how to run a rebellion, and you're about to be running the galaxy; I'm sure you canrun a household. Or we can. You're not alone, remember?" He gave her a lopsided smile, absently stroking the bare curve of her hip with his free hand. "Anyway, what's to 'run'? Cooking, cleaning, shopping; that's what droids are for. Get Threepio in here and put him to work. He'll keep the place clean enough, and he can order food and stuff, keep the place stocked." He shrugged one shoulder against the floor. "Just do me a favor and deactivate his speech module so I can live with him."

"Threepio would be useful here, that's true," she acknowledged, ignoring the gibe about her loquacious protocol droid. She straightened up into a sitting position, cross-legged and facing Han, who remained supine with his legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked behind his head. "But we still have a bit of work to do. The concierge is waiting for us to choose the furnishings and the layout for the rest of the place so he can place the orders and arrange it all. And I asked him to leave the bedrooms out of his plan, so we need to attend to that..." She trailed off, feeling unaccountably embarrassed.

Han, alert to her tone, cocked one eyebrow. "You asked him not to furnish the bedrooms? Why?"

Leia bit her lip. "I thought we could do that ourselves. Just...to make it ours." She gave a little shrug. "That's why the walls aren't painted in here."

Han craned his head around, peering at the walls in the dim light. "Aren't they?"

Leia smiled. "Didn't you notice?"

He turned his head back and allowed his gaze to roam down Leia's nude figure before lifting his eyes again to give her a meaningful look. "I had other things on my mind."

Leia smirked, privately marveling at how perfectly comfortable she felt sitting in front of Han with nothing on apart from her long hair to cover her nakedness. Absently, she twirled a strand of it around one finger. "Anyway, if we want a place to sleep any time soon, we'll need to buy a bed."

"There's more room on the floor for what I've got in mind," Han commented, stretching all four limbs out like a starfish, bumping up against Leia's knees as he did so. Thunder boomed and a sustained flicker of lightning flooded the room, briefly illuminating his toned, bare body; he was even more unselfconscious in his nudity than Leia was. "Who needs a bed, anyway?"

Leia gave an exasperated huff. "I need a bed." She drew one bent leg up between them and pointed at her reddened knee, which had begun to throb with an intense burning sensation after he bumped it.

He tilted his head up and squinted at it. "What am I lookin' at, Princess?"

"Carpet burn," she informed him, feeling mildly outraged at having suffered an injury under such circumstances.

Han snorted and let out a hearty laugh, probably at least in part because of the tone of righteous indignation in her voice. She gave him her most withering look and he sobered, then hitched up on his elbows, craned his neck forward and placed a light smooch on her abraded kneecap.

"First thing tomorrow, Sweetheart, I'll head over to the Tangham district and find us a bed. There's a lot of furniture showrooms down there by the river, or there used to be. Handcrafted, carved wood. Sturdy." He winked at her. "Nice stuff. I'm sure they can point me in the right direction for a good mattress, too."

Leia stared at him, mildly surprised at his knowledge of such things. Before she could ask for details, though, he shrugged, anticipating her question. "Years ago, back when we were still, uh, legit, me and Chewie had a short stint running rough exotics for an export company in the Expansion Region. Boa-wood, homogoni, Analayli thornwood, stuff like that. Not much profit in it, but it was steady work."

Leia filed that little detail away in the catalog of information she'd collected over the years about the nature of Han's life before they'd met. He wasn't secretive about it—at least, not anymore—but neither was he given to telling many stories about his past. She smiled in appreciation of his offer to go shopping for a bed. "That sounds perfect," she agreed. "But you don't need to do that on your own. I want to go with you, so we can choose together."

It was Han's turn to be surprised. "I thought you'd be tied up at the Senate House all day. Worlds to save, laws to be made, a galaxy to run...?"

"There's a mountain of work to be done," Leia acknowledged. "But mainstream culture in this part of Chandrila mandates a four-day work cycle, with one day off in between weeks. Tomorrow is the 'weekend', so the Senate's not in session."

Han's expression was wryly dubious. "And you're actually gonna let that stop you working?"

"Yes," Leia stated categorically, lifting her chin a little defiantly. "I am."

"It's a date, then," Han said decisively, clearly happy to accept her assertion without argument. "Some nice furniture, a few knick-knacks, a little paint—whenever you're ready to subject me to that ordeal," he said, and then automatically defended himself against the jab of Leia's fingers to his ribs. He gave her a wide grin. "Don't worry, Sweetheart; pretty soon, this place is gonna feel just like home."

Leia smiled in return, and then leaned over to place a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips. "You know," she whispered, nuzzling his face with hers, trading more kisses around their shared smiles, "it already feels a lot like home to me."

-:¦:-:¦:-:¦:-

End notes: Han Solo's "absurdly long toes" are courtesy of the amazing Cicatrick and her doubly amazing story New Hope, Indiana. If you love Han and Leia and you haven't read that yet, what are you doing here!? Go! Go now!