Bring Your Flowered Hat - this was a song challenge response

Set before the events of ESB, H/L

"Kiss me out of the bearded barley
Nightly, beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress.

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the sparkle-flies dance
Silver moon's sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me down by the crooked old tree
Swing me upon its wooden swing
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We'll take the trail marked on your father's map,"

Princess Leia Organa finished reading from the flimsy. She looked across the battered metal dining table at Luke Skywalker, still wearing his orange flight suit from the morning practice session, and smiled at the smitten young pilot. "That was written by a very famous Alderaanian poet."

Luke leaned forward, putting elbows on the table and cupping his chin against the palm of his hand. His long bangs flopped into his eyes, and he pushed the bothersome locks out of his way. "Very pretty." It was difficult to tell if Luke was referring to the poem, or the Princess.

"I've always loved that poem," Princess Leia told Luke wistfully. "It's so, so…"

"Idiotic?" Han Solo finished as he came sauntering over to the table.

Leia glared up at the tall Corellian, annoyed at his unexpected intrusion. "You wouldn't know good poetry if it bit you in the backside."

The spacer grinned, and turned a chair around the wrong direction before flinging his long legs over the sides to straddle the seat. He folded his arms along the back edge before saying, "You sure do like to bring my noticeably great attributes into any argument."

"Who invited you to sit down with us?" Leia questioned, her tone frosty. "Luke is interested in expanding his horizons and learning about the finer things in life, unlike you."

"I know good poetry when I hear it," Han argued. "Listen to this Corellian ditty – 'There once was a hairless Wookiee from Kashyyyk, who went on a bender with a blue Bith from Playkack. Then the Bith got all plastered, which made the Wookiee drink faster.."

"That is NOT poetry!" Leia interrupted hotly. "That's just a crass limerick."

"And kissing some guy with a beard named Bartlay isn't?" Han shot back.

"Barley, not Bartlay." Leia gave a long-suffering sigh. "You know that isn't what the poem is saying."

"Really?" Han asked, jerking the paper from her fingers, and scanning the words. "'You wear those shoes, and I will wear that dress'? Who gets turned on by shoes?"

"It's artistic license," Luke tried to say in Leia's defense.

Han's eyes went back to the flimsy. "Okay, then. What about, 'Lift your open hand. Strike up the band and make the sparkle-flies dance.' Explain that one."

"I, err, I'm not too sure," Luke admitted with a shrug. "Maybe he's a band director?"

"Or a magician," Han said with a laugh.

"It's supposed to inspire romantic images," Leia explained. "I wouldn't expect you to get it, Solo."

"I get it just fine," Han said. "If this is a guy talkin' then he's sayin' he wears a dress? And if it's supposed to be a girl doing the talkin', then why is she telling her lover to bring his 'flowered hat' and beggin' him over and over again to kiss her? What kind of guy wears a dress or owns a flowered hat? Certainly not Corellians. We're all male, through and through."

Leia stood up quickly, sending the light-weight chair she'd been sitting on crashing backwards. "Thick-headed, dim-witted, egotistical MORONIC males!" She stomped away, her face flushed with rage.

"Why do you deliberately get Leia so upset all the time?" Luke questioned his friend as he watched the Princess disappear out of the Rebel dining hall.

"'Cuz it's so much fun gettin' her all worked up into a lather," Han replied with a laugh, much to Luke's dismay. Han looked down at the poem written in Leia's delicate script, and folded the flimsy into a square before stuffing it into his vest pocket.

Five years later, shortly after Han and Leia's wedding day

"Where are you taking me?" Leia said, tugging at her new husband's hand as he led her down a winding path through some pretty woods.

"I've already told you," Han replied, his lips twitching in amusement. "We're going on a picnic."

"But it's getting late," Leia objected. "The sun is setting."

"Don't worry so much," Han replied. "This trail leads to the hotel's private park area. It's fenced in and there's plenty of security at the entry. That's why we're paying the big money to stay here. 'Sides, the hotel was nice enough to pack food for us, wine included."

"Wine?" Leia questioned. "You just want to get me drunk and have your way with me."

"Too late," Han said, smirking. "That already happened this morning. And last night. And the night before… and the night before that…"

"I should warn you that since this is our honeymoon, you probably shouldn't get too used to it once we get back to Coruscant."

"Empty threats," Han said. "You can't keep your hands off of me, and you know it."

Leia shook her head, her brown eyes sparkling with affection. "What's in that second basket?"

"It's a surprise," Han said. "No fair peeking, either."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Eventually Han stopped walking, set down the baskets, and checked out the directions that the hotel had provided. "According to this hotel map, we're in the right place."

"Here?" Leia asked, looking around at the small meadow.

"Yeah," Han said, pointing at a large tree. "It's even got a old-fashioned tree swing for us to use."

Leia glanced up at the branch. "That rope looks like it's seen better days."

"I'll be right back," Han said suddenly. Without giving her a chance to reply, he snatched up the smaller basket and ran off behind some bushes.

"Hey!" Leia shouted. "Where are you going?"

"I'm right here," Han yelled back, although he was out of sight. "Unpack the picnic basket, okay?"

"Fine, make me do all the work," Leia complained, opening the box and shaking out the red checkered blanket. She turned on small lanterns for light, and spread out various containers of food. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"This is what I'm doing," Han said, jumping out from behind a bush.

Leia's mouth dropped open from shock. "What's that on your face? And what in the stars are you wearing on your head?"

"Are you referring to my dashing beard?" Han asked, stroking his new 'growth'. "Or my lovely hat and shiny shoes?" He hurried closer, giving Leia the full view of a scraggly gray beard, the glittering, jewel-encrusted orange shoes, and an outrageous purple hat decorated profusely with flowers, ribbons and fake sparkle-flies, which appeared to have some type of power source since they were frantically blinking on and off.

"Have you lost your mind?" Leia spluttered out. "Where did you get that crazy stuff?"

"Do you like it?"

"No!"

Han actually looked hurt. "Why not?"

"You look like an idiot! Are you sure that dead womp rat covering your face doesn't have an insect infestation?" Leia protested, looking furtively around the meadow. "There isn't anyone else around that can see you, is there?"

"We're all alone," Han reassured her. "I'm crushed, Princess. Really crushed you don't like my costume. It was your idea, after all."

"MY idea? Since when?"

Han reached into his pocket, and thrust a crumbled old flimsy in her direction.

"This is an old Alderaanian poem," Leia said as she read the words. "In my handwriting."

"You don't remember how I got that?"

"No, I can't say I do."

"You were reading it to Luke, and I was teasing you. You got mad at me and stomped off."

Leia gave a rueful smile. "I did that a lot back then."

"Yeah, you did," Han said. "But to be fair, I always tried my hardest to push your buttons."

"So what's with the beard, and where did you get it?"

"Second-hand thrift store." Han tugged at the ratty hair on his lower face, which was attached by a band around his head. He took off the hat, and gave a dramatic bow. "Bartlay, the Bearded One at your service, ma'am. Would you like me to open the wine?"

Leia laughed, unable to stop herself. "Certainly, Bartlay. It looks like a fine vintage."

As he tugged open the cork, he asked, "I'm glad you noticed my dazzling shoes, as well as my flowered hat. The poem does ask for those particular objects."

"Yes, it does," Leia agreed, taking the glass of wine from her husband. "You've done a commendable job following instructions."

"Would you like me to push you on the swing?"

Leia gave a dubious glance over at the object. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"It should be," Han replied, which sounded less than reassuring to the Princess.

Still, she allowed herself to be gently pushed back and forth for several minutes, before, dragging her feet on the grass and halting the swing.

"Why are you stopping already?" Han asked.

"I was just thinking."

"About what a wonderful, romantic man you're married to?"

"Well, so far I haven't seen the romantic part of the poem." She twisted her torso around to look up at her 'bearded' spouse, still wearing that ridiculous hat. "The poem orders 'Bartlay' to kiss his lover, and you haven't done that one time."

Han grinned and moved around to the front of the swing, pulling Leia to her feet. "As you wish, my Princess." He moved his face closer…

"Wait!"

"Now what?"

"The beard and the hat have got to go, or I'll never be able to get into the proper mood."

Han quickly discarded the offending pieces, and under the sparkling, silver moonlight, he kissed his lovely bride.

THE END