They had researched the basic things, of course. Air quality, gravity, and climate were always listed in a planet's characteristics for human tolerance. Han wanted to know about dangerous snakes in the region. Leia had not known he had a thing about snakes, but she liked to know things in general, and if he wanted to know something, then she would, too.
They sat side by side in front of the holoscreen, the whole planet spread before them in satellite images. Leia liked to study. She would point her finger. "There," she'd say, and instruct the screen to zoom in on the area.
"Seein' is believing," Han would answer. "Let's go ourselves."
They explored, traveled the regions. Han wanted a port city so his ship was nearby; she wanted land. She also wanted museums and art.
"Schools?" Han had asked, his face all funny like he couldn't believe he was asking.
Leia had shrugged. "Later."
It was a surprise, a pleasant one, to learn each other slowly, like they had all their lives. Leia needed to research, to land somewhere already knowing a great deal about it. It soothed her somehow, to be prepared. Han barely listened, but that was okay. He said he was holding auditions. "Which planet gets our vote?"
As it turned out, there were eleven species of snake, five varieties dangerous, each employing a venomous bite. That, somehow was tolerable to Han. "Not too many," he had said, "and no constrictor kinds; that's good." Leia wondered just where the hells he had lived that made knowledge of snake populations such a priority.
They bought a house, painted it white. "It's got to be white" Han said. She thought it might be because of her, what she was wearing when they met, what she mostly wore during their long acquaintance. In the living areas she chose earthy colors, accented with shades of red but the bedroom had blue.
It was the tree outside the window that sold it for her. Han hadn't cared as much about the where or what it- they- looked like. It overwhelmed him, she thought. Not her and him; he was fine about that. Eager, even and- he made it fun. But the how of it, what it should look like. He wanted her, he wanted quick access to his ship, and he didn't want snakes. That was all he articulated about settling down. She handled most everything: divided the labor, filled the rooms, stocked the pantry.
The tree had a graceful shape. The leaves were small needles, and they were soft. They were a green that contrasted well with the textured brown-gray of the bark, just so rich to the eye. They moved in winter, when the landscape was hard and brown and cold, but the tree held a promise she couldn't resist. She could see along the limbs outside their window; the smaller branches didn't grow so thick that they concealed the wood. It was elegant and decorous.
They slept well. The bed was large, and gave her another fact Leia hadn't known about Han: he slept on the diagonal. And under the pillows. She couldn't breathe like that. She thought she would suffocate.
He took up a lot of time and space at night, and sometimes she shoved his long legs that were too close to her with her feet. She had a thing about physical space. She knew it, and she knew it wasn't something she was going to get over easily, not without a few years of counseling or just admitting that her wartime capture had left a psychological scar.
One night it wasn't his heavy leg atop hers that woke her up, and she lay there a moment, and arranged the silky fabric of her nightgown which had bunched up around her thighs. His leg was next to her, as usual, but something was different.
There was sound. Birdsong. Leia kept her eyes closed and rolled on her back, and Han's leg moved into the warm space she had vacated. She listened to the strong voice of the bird, clear and melodic. How had she not heard it before?
Next to her, Han's elbow lifted, releasing his head trapped underneath the pillow. He looked at her, asking a sleepy question, and rolled over, taking his leg with him.
The bird was in the tree, outside their window. A nocturnal bird, Leia mused. It hadn't come up in their research of dangerous animals and snakes. She wondered what it type it was, and why of all nights it had started to sing.
Han's arm, nicely contoured with muscle and warmth, was moving, and his hand groped by his head. He was trying to free a pillow, and before Leia realized what was happening, he tossed it at the window.
Leia smiled. "It's a bird," she said in the hush of nighttime.
"Tell it to shut up," he grumbled.
She smiled again, and rolled on her side to take hold of that nice arm. They lay for a time, listening separately. It was a proud song, Leia thought. Han threw a second pillow.
Leia chuckled as it landed with a useless thump on the floor. The bird kept on singing. "Careful, you're running out of pillows," she said.
"Mmmph," he grunted.
"At least it's not a snake," she soothed. "It could be a snake."
He moved again, scooping her before him like a shield. "No."
The dark of the room took her smile again. She would be his shield, she thought. It seemed an easy enough job. "Go get the pillows," she said over her shoulder.
His speech was sleepy, mumbly. "Go get my blaster."
She laughed incredulously. "You'll shoot the bird into silence?"
"Fire a warning shot."
"Come on, get the pillows. I use that one."
"Sleepin'."
"Not very well," she countered. "You can't bury your head under your missing pillows, and they block out sound."
He kissed her head. "You'll snore for me. Go to sleep."
"I can't. There's a man in my bed throwing pillows."
He squeezed her, and she felt his laugh exhale into her hair. One hand roved over her body, settling on her throat. "The man'll stop," he promised seductively.
"Because there are no more pillows."
Han's head lifted, swiveled to take inventory. "Two left."
His hand was heavy. She placed her own over his, asked for its forgiveness, and lifted it a bit.
"I'll get them," she sighed. She returned his hand to his own body, and lifted the covers. When she got out of the bed, Han groaned in protest, and he took her pillow.
Leia paused at the window sill. She peered through the glass, hands on the silk covering her thighs, trying to find the source of the song, but it was too dark. She crawled back into bed with the pillows, dropping one on Han's arm that held hers clamped over his ear.
"It's spring," she said.
"Mm?"
"How long have we been here?"
His elbow made a shrug for her.
"It's spring," she said again, settling back down to face him. The cool air of the room felt nice and she left the covers off.
Han sighed.
"I wonder if he's nesting," she said.
His voice was muffled from under the pillow. "He?"
"He. Birds to me are he."
"Hm." Han's head emerged from the pillow and she saw the gleam of his eyes looking at her. "Don't you need a she?"
"Well, of course. But the males do the work."
"Ohhh," he said in an enlightened tone.
She rapped him on his bicep. "Not like that. I'm not assigning female power," she chided. "It's from observing. At home. The males made the nest as part of the courtship, and they are beautiful-"
"Hard work, bein' beautiful."
"There was one kind that sang through the night while she sat in the nest on their eggs, warning predators I guess, and protecting their territory."
Mentioning home was a rare thing for her, and Han marked the moment. He raised himself on his elbow, and propped his face on his palm, and the other was tracing the line of Leia's curve, from her breasts to her hips and back. He was encouraging her to say more, if she liked. Instead goosebumps rose and she pulled the blanket over her again.
"Mmm," she sighed, forgiving the action of pillow tossing. Sleep was demanding its time, and his hand on her hip was happiness. "I'm comfortable."
"I didn't do much gettin' you this house," he said quietly.
"I chose the beautiful mate to make it a home," she said affectionately. "And you painted it white. High up on a ladder in the cold."
He nodded. "Think I'll have to do it again. I didn't know this paint doesn't take well if it's too cold. Shoulda used spacecraft paint."
"Gray. No."
"I'll sing all night. How's that? 'La-la-laaaa. This is my Princess's nest, la la. Stay away if you know what's best, la la.'"
Leia burrowed an arm through Han's open elbow and pressed her face to his chest. His skin was warm and she moved so just a cheek rested near his heart, which thumped in her ear. "No birds, no snakes," she murmured.
"La, la, la," Han finished his song. He dropped his elbow and lay back down, tucking Leia's head on his arm.
"City boy?"
"Mmm, no," he murmured. "More like space lane boy."
"Space lane," Leia repeated thoughtfully. "There are no snakes in space."
He grunted. "I know a certain asteroid where a space slug lives."
"Oh, right," Leia smiled. She lifted her head to peer at him and barely discerned jaw and chin in the dark. She traced his jawline with a finger. "Space lane boy," she said again. "That's how you're so well-traveled."
"You knew that." He put a hand on her shoulder, bracing her so he could pull his arm out from under her head.
"Yes, but-" Leia paused. She was realizing there was a lifetime behind them, too. "Were you auditioning planets even then?"
A corner of his mouth lifted under her finger. "No. Ships. Me, maybe."
Leia pushed up so they were face to face. Somehow she knew what he was saying. "You were a stowaway."
His shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Easy to sneak on freighters. Loading crews don't pay much attention."
"You always wanted to fly."
"Fly away."
Leia blinked thoughtfully in the dark. Outside, the bird's voice was strong. "You sang for me," she told Han.
He laughed. "I guess I did. Must be nesting."
She smiled. "I like it here."
"Yup."
She rolled over, both to let her tuck her to him and to be his shield, and the bird still sang but they somehow managed to fall back asleep.