Thanks for the comments, chibijem, Freshman11, MultiFandomGirl1424, violetkitty, MrsScruffyNerfherder, and EsmeAmelia. :)


Two things crossed Leia Organa's mind as she awoke tangled in Han's spare sheets on his bunk in the Millennium Falcon. The first: Han had been true to his word and hadn't touched her once during the night. The second flitted in and out of her mind so fast that she almost missed it: I wish he had.

She shook her head in order to clear it. Where did that come from? Han is my friend, same as Luke.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the two always fell into different categories. Luke was a boy. Han was a man. Luke was sweet, fun, and sensitive, everything she should want in a boyfriend. Han was not. And yet ...

There was something alluring, something mystical and seductive about the pirate. Leia never quite knew where she stood with him, which kept her on her toes.

Why didn't he ravish me last night? I'm hotter than most of the one-night stands he hooks up with.

Leia, get a grip, she chided herself. The man is ill. Besides, if he had attempted to bed me after promising he wouldn't, I'd have killed him.

As she pulled herself free from the knot of covers, Han burst in carrying a tray laden with tea and an assortment of delightfully-scented dishes. "Don't get up yet, your highnessness," he said with a lopsided grin. "I made breakfast." He stood before her in a simple tan tunic and pants, waiting to present the feast to her. Leia caught a whiff of spicy nerf sausage and wastril bread.

She gave him a shy smile, touched by his thoughtful gesture. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Dewlanna taught me," he said, as he set the tray in her lap. Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he added, "She was like a mother to me growing up." He shrugged, appearing slightly bashful.

The word "mother" caught Leia's attention and reminded her of Han's nightmare the previous night. He so rarely spoke of his childhood; this might be the only opening she had. "Was she similar to your mother?"

Han laughed. "Dewlanna was a Wookiee." As his laugher died, he added in a sober tone, "She was a good being. She took better care of me than my biological mother did." His voice slowed, stalled. He fumbled over his next words. "I don't ... I don't remember my mother. She died when I was five." A shadow crossed his face, and Leia could see Han retreating behind the mask he wore far too often. She was sorry she had asked the question.

"How are you feeling?" she asked around a bite of gartro eggs. Han was wearing the same clothing she'd seen him in when she found him throwing up on the floor of the refresher. Did he wear a certain outfit when he felt ill? There were so many things she didn't know about the pirate.

Han sighed and sat on the foot of his bed. "I comm'ed Rieekan this morning." He looked away and folded his arms over his chest. Leia swallowed her food and waited for him to continue, but he didn't add anything else.

"You have another migraine, don't you?" she asked, setting the tray aside and reaching for him. He sighed heavily again, confirming her suspicions, but didn't move. She crawled out of the bedding and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "I can't live like this any more," he admitted quietly. "Luke is right. It's not fair to Chewie. He's afraid to leave me alone." He withdrew his hand and tried to pull away, but Leia held him tight. "I told Rieekan to schedule the testing. I'm gonna be admitted to the med lab this morning. Luke offered to go with me." Leia fought an irrational surge of jealousy that Han had turned to Luke for help instead of her. As if Han could read her mind, he added, "Luke comm'ed me right after I talked to Rieekan. He insisted on coming."

Leia let go of Han so she could see his face. His hazel eyes held a haunted expression, like a man about to attend his own execution. Was he upset about the upcoming medical testing or was he unhappy about feeling so dependent on Luke? Leia couldn't tell. Maybe both. She reached for his hand and he grasped hers back.

"You should finish your breakfast, your worshipfulness," he said, releasing her hand as he rose to stand.

Leia reproached him gently. "You shouldn't have cooked for me if you weren't feeling well."

"Who said I made this spread for you?" He gave her a crooked grin. "I wanted a decent meal before I'm trapped for a week in the med lab."

As he sauntered out, Leia quickly ate the food that Han had prepared. Most of it, she thought as she sipped her tea, is quite tasty, a definite cut above the mess hall. But she couldn't stomach the nerf sausage; it was so spicy that it burned her tongue. Typically Corellian, she thought. All bluster and no substance. The old adage took on an entirely new meaning now that she knew Han. Leia felt guilty that she'd once disregarded a whole planet based upon Alderaani prejudices. How many other inappropriate judgements lurked in her upbringing?

After she'd finished the meal, Leia tackled her hair. Some mornings, she awoke with her braided coil neatly intact. Not so today. Loose strands poked out everywhere; it looked like she'd spent the night rolling around in the sheets. Given how late she'd arrived last night, Luke wouldn't have been surprised to find that she'd stayed over with the captain, but this wasn't the impression she wanted to give. The thought of the young Rebel finding her alone in Han's bedroom wasn't appealing either. As she left Han's cabin, Leia unwound her braid, pulling out the pins and collecting them in her hand. Why hadn't she thought to bring a brush?

She ran her fingers through the long strands to pull them free from the braid. Hair down, she went looking for Han. Leia found him sitting in the lounge, eyes closed, with an iced bacta pack on his forehead and a cup of caf in one hand. Chewie sat nearby and whuffed as she came in. He indicated Han with a tip of his head and then met her gaze, pain and worry apparent in his blue eyes.

Leia shared a concerned look with the Wookiee before speaking. "Don't worry, Chewie. They'll take good care of him at the med lab."

As the Wookiee nodded, Han's eyes blinked open and he sat up. The chilled bacta slid off his face and into his lap. "Hey, your worshipfulness," he drawled. Leia noticed him discretely trying to hide the bacta pack. Was he that embarrassed to show weakness around her, even after she'd seen him at his worst? Apparently, he was. She looked away to give him an opportunity to stow the evidence.

When she returned her gaze to Han, any trace of vulnerability had been carefully tucked away. "You really should wear your hair down more often, your high-and-mighty-ness." He leered at her.

Leia frowned. "I don't suppose you'd have a brush, flyboy. Not like you ever use one."

Han placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me, Princess. But, uh, to be honest, I don't know where one is. Chewie has a bunch, though."

Leia inwardly cringed at the thought of her scalp touching a brush that had run through Wookiee fur. But she wasn't about to give Han Solo the satisfaction of knowing just how uncomfortable she was. Leia appealed to Chewie. "Can I borrow a brush?"

Chewie nodded, and she followed the big Wookiee to his quarters. She wasn't surprised to find the oversized bed covered in mess. But the neat display of combs, brushes, and hair picks on the dresser, combined with nearly every hair and fur taming product known to the galaxy, caught her off-guard. She chose a small brush and some gel before excusing herself to the refresher to plait her hair.

By the time Luke had arrived, Leia was seated in the lounge with Han and Chewie, her hair neatly braided and pinned up, all evidence of her night aboard the Falcon discretely hidden. She hoped.

"You ready?" Luke asked, looking at Han.

His friend took a deep breath and stood up. "Not really," he admitted.

Leia had planned to accompany the two men to the med lab. But looking at them now, she realized that Luke was the right person to help Han get settled. She had the distinct sense that Han might lie to the intake droid about how poorly he was feeling if she was there to listen. "Luke, when do you go on maneuvers? Maybe Chewie or I should visit Han then."

The spacer grumbled. "I'm not an invalid. I do not need round-the-chrono supervision." He glared at his three friends in turn, arms folded, a deep scowl on his face. "This is exactly why I don't wanna do this. You're making too big of a deal out of it."

"I'll comm you," Luke said to Leia and Chewie, ignoring Han's outburst. He gestured at the Corellian and pointed at the entry ramp of the Falcon. "Let's go."

As the two men left the ship, Chewbacca wrapped a furry arm around Princess Leia's shoulder and howled, a low mournful noise.

"I know," Leia said, looking up at him. "I feel exactly the same way."