#flick fic

[waitjustaflick]

Fanfic: The New Years Ch 1, Star Wars | FanFiction

I can’t resist a ‘New Years’ reblog. Just in case you haven’t read this little bit of Han and Leia goodness... 😘

[waitjustaflick]

Gravity

Hey @erindarroch - it’s easier to respond on here than FFN.  I am on a hiatus from Gravity right now.  Real life is too busy for me to delve into writing world.  However, here’s a teaser from sometime around Chapter 3.  I will pick it up again once things settle down which could be in a week or a couple months.  I will say, I have a real life situation that is mirroring this Han and Leia dynamic so perfectly, so I definitely want to channel my feelings about it into the story soon.

The Bria was never in the same hangar twice.  Leia didn’t know if Han and Chewie did this on purpose or if it was just a matter of available space.  Today, the ship was housed on the far west side of Mos Eisley in a row of warehouses facing out into the desert.  The lower sun was skimming the horizon as Leia drove up in her speeder, painting the walls with a bright, hot pinky orange.  

The weather was oppressively hot as it often was after a spate of sand storms.  In times like this, Chewbacca would stay indoors as much as possible, his fur making the heat all the more unbearable, so as Leia disembarked, the only sentient she saw was Han standing, hands on hips, studying a scorch mark across the nose of his ship.

It took Leia a flick to process the fact that this Han was a little different than any she’d seen before.  As she blinked at him in the saturated light, she realized that the part of him that was painted the same blinding pink as the rest of the building was not his usual white(ish) shirt, but a wide swath of skin.  The shirt was stuffed in his back pocket, and his back was displayed against the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

Leia’s breath caught in her throat as he turned toward the sound of her powering down speeder.  He winced at the brightness of the sun, and raised a hand to shield his eyes.  This gave Leia just enough time to arrange her face before he registered her person.  

“What took you so long?”

Leia tried to focus on her speeder, the ship, the blazing suns.  Anything but the chest that was displayed so nakedly before her.

“Something going on at the farm,” she said, throwing her goggles and wind jacket into the speeder, “It doesn’t matter.”

She took a breath and turned to face him, blood immediately rushing to her cheeks.  He looked…good.  Leia had always known he was handsome.  She’d admired him since the first time she saw him, but something had changed in the last few months.  He’d been impossible to grow attached to when he’d been fighting her very presence.  When every other word out of his mouth had been, “What are you still doing here?”  But, once he’d made the decision to help her, everything about him had changed.  

That was the first real thing Leia had learned about Han Solo.  He didn’t change his mind easily, but if he did, he didn’t look back.

In the last few months, Leia had gotten to know the man behind the bluster, the mirth behind the smirk.  He’d become less of a character to her and more of a sentient.   Complex, aggravating, and real.  He treated her like a little sister, sometimes gruff, but always kind.  And Leia wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.  So, when these moments came up, she did her best to ignore them.

Leia had seen too many times what happened when boys and girls got involved.  The way the lads at school would love them one day and despise them the next.  The way they ceased to be anything but objects like speeders or sand skimmers, things to be lusted after, used and then discarded.  Leia didn’t think Han would ever do that to her…honestly, didn’t think he even wanted to.  But, she wouldn’t do that to him either.  She wouldn’t allow herself to have the crush she wanted to have.

But, even as she told herself this, she couldn’t help gazing at him.  He didn’t have an ounce of embarrassment, and there was no reason he should.  Her male friends ran around this way often, especially when they were out on the dunes.  But they didn’t look like this.  The were always too long or too squat, concave or rollypolly, half-baked like a piece of desert bread.  

Han was not half-finished.  Han Solo was a masterpiece.  

“Well, come on,” he said.  “We’re gonna work on the main shield today.  As you can see,” he gestured at the laser burn behind him, “it shorted the last time we needed it.”

He shook his head and touched the black mark again. It was mostly cosmetic, but a bit of the durasteel had been penetrated blurring the bolts and making Leia wonder.

“What would happen if it went all the way through?”

“In space?” he said, tapping the part that had turned to slag, “depends on whether we can get the shield back up.”

Leia moved forward to examine the burn more closely and to listen to the captain.  Han never missed the opportunity for a teaching moment.  She tried to ignore the shape of his arm and the sense of his presence, now close beside her.  She could almost smell him, a combination of the dampness of his sweat, a fragrant natural smell that spoke of a more verdant world.  Pine soap, he’d said, when she’d sniffed curiously at her hands after using the fresher.

“The shield is a force field,” he said, “Best invention sentients ever came up with.  Without force fields we would never make it out there,” he murmured, pointing up the now-magenta sky.  

“Is that the same as the Force?” Leia asked, recalling the mysterious power the boys sometimes told stories of between races.

Han chuckled, “The Force?  You are a kid, aren’t you?”

Leia felt her cheeks heat up a little, and her heart seize up as Han turned a fond, teasing smile on her.

“Well, you said Force field.”

“That’s science, kid, not magic.  The force doesn’t exist.  It’s just an old hokey religion some guys in robes came up with to make themselves feel special.  And to hoodwink the general public.”

Leia’s face was burning now and her heart felt the slightest bit heavy.  She’d always loved the stories of the Force.  They’d made her feel connected somehow, like the universe wasn’t as mundane and as senseless as it sometimes seemed on Tatooine.  

“How does it work?” she asked, pressing forward away from her embarrassment, “the force field?”

“It’s a plasma projection, sort of like the laser that comes out of a blaster,” he took his blaster out and twirled it turning to take a shot at the desert earth.  Leia didn’t jump, already having grown used to Han’s impulsivity, so at odds with his careful treatment of her, “But unlike that laser, it repels rather than rends.  Like the opposite side of a magnet.”  

Leia frowned, “So, why is it so important?”

Han reholstered his blaster and flexed his hands.  The gesture made all the muscles on his arms stand out in sharp relief.  He didn’t seem aware of this at all, but Leia was all too aware.

“It repels everything, blasters, matter, and the vacuum of space itself.  Only thing it doesn’t repel is itself.  That’s why ships can enter ship bays through it.”

Leia knew about this.  She’d read about space all her life.  It was hard to imagine such a vast field of nothingness, punctuated by bursts of stars and pockets of planets, but she understood the concept intellectually.

“If the shields are up, the Bria is safe as houses,” he scowled then, “but if they go down, she’s a sitting duck.  If a blast gets through, we’d all be dead meat.  Nothing can survive in space.  But, if the shields only flickered,” he put his hand over the slag mark, “then the force field would keep the ship intact and keep us all breathing.”

“So, what happened here?” Leia asked, setting her hand next to Han’s, pinky a hairsbreadth from his.  

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, farm girl.”

“Tell me,” Leia said, grabbing his hand, as he made to pull away.

He looked at their hands, his face an odd mixture of sanguine and wary.  She released him, feeling her face heat yet again, feeling the imprint of his skin on her palm.  “If I’m going to learn how to fix it, I have to know what could go wrong.”

He considered her for a flick, before lowering his hand.  The light had turned purple and the temperature was already dropping, he stepped back from her and tugged his shirt from his pocket.  Shrugging it on, he adjusted the collar than ran his hands through his hair.  The strands temporarily lay flat, before pushing out again, a little bit wild just like their owner.  Leia turned back to the ship, catching herself yet again in the act of staring at him all too blatantly.

“Ran into a pirate gang,” he said, “Didn’t want to let us leave their sector without a cut of our profits.”

“Why didn’t you just give it to them?”

Han’s eyes flared, “Give it to them?  The hell I would.”

“Isn’t it better than being dead meat?” Leia asked, glancing back at the mark.

“No,” he said, with a finality she’d become increasingly familiar with, “Living with your tail between your legs isn’t a life worth living.  Besides,” he said, voice leveling out a bit, “it’s bad business.  If I gave a cut to every pirate, or Imperial, or backwater farmer,” he said with the flash of a teasing smile, “who threatened me, I wouldn’t have a credit to my name.  Or Jabba’s.”

Leia nodded, and bit her lip.  She hated thinking about him out there with Chewie sometimes. She hated that dark little part of her mind that would conjure up every awful thing that might happen to them.  And she’d never even know.  They’d just disappear one day, winked out of existence and cut off from her little corner of the universe.  And then where would she be?

She wanted to tell him this.  She wanted to ask him to look out for himself, to come back to Tatooine, to her.  But, Han was anything but sentimental, and Leia wanted to be just like Han.

“Show me how to fix it,” she said, turning her back to the burn, “No more flickering.”

Han looked a little surprised at her steeliness, then satisfied, giving her a sly grin.

[waitjustaflick]

https://rebelscumwoman77.deviantart.com/art/Fixing-The-Falcon-744659002 A couple weeks ago a reader reached out to me and asked if they could illustrate ‘Near Misses’ - I was soooo flattered and excited. Literally, a dream come true. I love the look on Leia’s face here - sort of how I imagine all of us looking as we scroll through pics of our man Harrison. I am attaching the part of the story they took this from. It’s like a fun puzzle seeing where they got their inspiration from. Thanks friend!!! ~~~~~ Han is teaching me how to use a micro-fuser. You see, my favorite new hobby is finding excuses to be near him. Where before I tried to avoid him or ignore him or at the very least insult him, now I can't get close enough. Literally can't. If it wasn't for the constant slow burn behind his eyes, I would think the man wanted nothing to do with me. The last couple months have been a constant game of cat and mouse, only with me as the frisky feline. If someone had told me I would be chasing after this man two years ago, I would never have believed them. The very thought makes me blush, but I know it's true. After Florn, everything changed again. Suddenly the worries that had held me back for so long seemed silly, superfluous in the wake of my recovery. I want Han. Han wants me. Nothing could seem more simple and more obvious. Except nothing is ever simple when it comes to this particular man. Or maybe it's just my own feelings that make it all so confusing. Yes, I'm chasing him. But I want him to chase me. I want him to make a move. To make me his. I have never felt this way about anyone. Everything before Han seems so innocent, so tame. Now that I am no longer fighting it, my desire has only grown. It's a wild thing that paces through my chest and waits for its moment to strike. Now seems to be such a moment. He is bent over a toolbox, his too long hair falling into his eyes. I have never seen him with his hair this long, and I can't help but like it. I imagine running my hands through it and a tingling pleasure creeps up my arms just at the thought. But his hair is the least of it. The cooling system on the Falcon is broken, necessitating this fix. He came into dinner complaining about it, grumbling that he'd have to do it himself since Chewie couldn't stand to be in the ship for longer than a minute at its current boiling temperature. Wookiee pelts can't be shed. I saw my opportunity and grabbed for it, quickly volunteering to assist. Both Han and Luke looked at me askance, but I claimed I needed to brush up on my mechanical skills. A leader should always be well-rounded. They seemed to accept this. Enough to get me here. I've had to get crafty like this lately because I don't want to be too obvious. Some still-reserved part of me can't abide that. But, I also want to give him every opportunity to see that I've changed, that I can own up to what I feel for him and take a chance. What do you feel for him, Organa? Right now, it could be classified as pure, unbridled lust. After an hour of working in this stifling heat, he finally pulled his sweat soaked shirt over his head and threw it to the side. It's the first time I've ever seen him shirtless and... Holy Gods. He is beautiful. The perfect balance of lean and muscled, covered with an inexplicable tan. As if some heavenly painter had glazed him in gold. Between space travel and base life, I doubt he has time to be in the sunlight much, so I imagine it's just him. He's just this irresistible. He turns back to me and studiously avoids looking at my own scantily clad form, raising his eyes to my face. "You ready?" Gods yes. I nod primly (to counterbalance my thoughts) and hop down from the box I've been sitting on. It's late at night, but both of us are night owls so we decided to get started. The exhaustion of the day and the end of a long week of tireless work is making me a bit loopy. I almost feel tipsy, a feeling I rarely experience these days. I have the sudden wistful longing for wine - something light and crisp - as I feel another blast of heat. The space the system is situated in is tight and there's no way for him to show me what to do without us both squeezing in. I couldn't have planned a better set of circumstances. For a moment, I wonder if some lusty goddess is in my corner. Just in case, I send her a quick prayer of thanks. Of course, after I have slipped in, the correct tool in hand, I start to get nervous. I want him so badly, but if I get him, I'm not sure what I'll do with him. I've kissed men. But that's all. I'm almost twenty-two years old. In my old life I'd have been married by now. Even with my political career, I know this to be true. It was expected of me and, in some ways, I wanted it. Being royal and a public figure is a lonely life. Deep down, I longed for someone I could trust, someone I could... He's behind me now and my heart is pulsing against my ribs, making my breath come in shallow little sips. It doesn't help that it's even hotter in here. Sweat trickles from my hair, down my neck and I can feel it accumulate in places I wish it wouldn't. Han is silent for a moment. I close my eyes, wishing I could know what was going through his mind. He reaches an arm around me and guides my hand up to the first spot I'm supposed to fuse. At the touch of his hand on my wrist, I feel the desire roar forward. What if I leaned back into him? What if I turned around and kissed him? Then what? Han takes a deep breath and finally speaks. "Just press it lightly right there. You want to make sure this wire stays grounded, or you won't get a spark." I decide to focus on the task. Guiding that little line of molten light seems so much more manageable than making sense of the three metims of solid masculinity behind me. There is something satisfying about taking two pieces of metal, solid, unyielding, never meant to fit together and melting them down until they join.

[waitjustaflick]

What tips do you have for writing UST? You are a master at it.

Okay, so I have been thinking about this anon’s question a lot.  And here we go:

I think we write what turns us on, dear anon.  I am a total romantic who has suffered through a lot of unrequited love in my life.  So, I think I get turned on by the idea of a man having heroic (and sometimes neurotic) reasons for fighting his feelings for a woman.  (Cause then all those guys secretly DID love me…)  This isn’t to be like “oh woe is me…” - I have had relationships in the last few years, but when I was growing up and my brain was forming, all of my experiences with love were of the UST variety.  So in some ways, I think that my ability and desire to write that springs naturally from that slant.

But, I am a growth mindset person, not a fixed mindset person, so here are some ideas to jumpstart your UST writing.  I said this to Erin when she was my secret santa: just remember no one least of all Han and Leia wants to be vulnerable (but they also desperately want to be seen and connected with).  Just this basic idea of going to any length and using any rationalization to halt the natural fall into love is the main ingredient of UST.  Luckily, us humans are incredibly neurotic - we can fuck up any situation we find - so you have endless material to draw on.  Just have your characters question and doubt literally every thought they have about the other person.  Or let them have all the romantic thoughts in the world, paragraphs and paragraphs of them, then throw one thought of vulnerability into the mix and watch it fall apart.  

Vulnerable thoughts include extrapolations of “I’m not good enough”, “I’m not safe”, “I’ll get hurt”, “He/she will get hurt”, “I don’t deserve this”, “What if it ends that horrible way that the other thing ended?” and then you layer more palatable excuses on top of those thoughts because no one ever wants to actually even be that vulnerable to themselves.  “I don’t have time for this”, “I’m only here for the money”, “Love is trivial in a time of war”, “They would never like me that way”, “It’s just lust”, “This kiss will open the door to a lot of things I’m not sure I want or am ready for”, “Shit, what if somebody sees?”  Also, they can have heroic thoughts about protecting or respecting the object of their desire that are often just covering up the original thoughts from above.

I think good UST comes down to what the main characters are thinking.  It’s not about the situation stopping them from consummating their love, it’s about their own insecurities and fears stopping them from consummating their love.  Think about in your own life how delicious something feels when it is slightly forbidden - that frisson of knowing you shouldn’t but having an undeniable urge to do it anyway is why I love to write UST.  For me, the tension often goes out of the story once they get together (except for in Never Will I Ever - for some reason even though they were married for two thirds of it, I was able to keep the tension taught and alive for myself.)  The tension is everything, dahling.

That’s all for now, but feel free to message me with more questions!  

[waitjustaflick]

A comedy of errors influenced by Cyrano, You've Got Mail, and my take on the world of lajulie. Written for the Han and Leia Secret Santa Exchange on tumblr. It's all in good fun - enjoy!

Naturally, I’m the last to the party. @lajulie24 this story is for you!  Because I am your Secret Santa.  Tada!  I mixed a proprietary blend of your Secret Santa form, your answers to my asks and your tumblr with whatever I felt like writing!  It was such a treat to write something a little funnier and with a few more supporting characters than I usually work with!  (Also another adorable pairing…)

I hope you enjoy your prezzie as I have certainly enjoyed making it for you!!!

PS) This also turned into a rather meta tribute to the whole Exchange.  :P

[waitjustaflick]

Han doesn't have time for any of this. And he doesn't care. So there.

Hey all!  I am having so much fun writing in this universe.  I love playing with younger versions of Han and Leia, a Han who isn’t so cool yet and a Leia who doesn’t have her sh*t together.  Hope you get some Sunday night reading in!  

[waitjustaflick]

Cross My Heart

Happy Halloween!!!  This is a Treat Prompt, though it features one Tricky feline.  I changed the prompt a little so that I could set the story Pre-ESB because I live for UST.  (Or I am lazy and that’s what I find easiest to write…)  Also played with a first person Han POV because why the hell not?  Here’s the prompt: 

On a mission to provide aid to Lothal in the aftermath of the Rebels’ victory a Rebel victory, a black Loth-cat keeps crossing Leia’s path, leading Han to wonder at a Corellian superstition he heard as a child.

~~

Shoulda left the Rebels months ago.  Don’t know why I’ve stayed.  Every week, I think, now’s the time.  Pack up the falcon, tell Chewie to can it, and leave.  Fly back into free space, into the only place I’ve ever felt like myself.  

I certainly don’t feel like Han Solo here.  Han Solo doesn’t take orders.  He picks and chooses what he’ll take on (sometimes with a blaster to his head but still).  He doesn’t do charity work ‘cause he knows what a lost cause is and it ain’t gonna be him.  He has colleagues, clients and enemies.  He doesn’t have friends.

Friends are where it all goes wrong. Sure, they seem nice enough - ask you how you’re doing, share a bottle of whiskey, care if you live or die.  But then there’s more.  There’s always more.  Friends ask for things, friends want you to do favors.

“They’re stranded, Han…” she said, “We can’t just leave them there with no way to call for aid.  All we’ll do is make contact, set up a communication system then…”

I don’t know how she does it.  She isn’t charming.  Not like me.  She’s steely and bossy and thinks she’s a damn hero.  It’s insufferable really.  Wouldn’t even call her a friend if it weren’t for all the times she’s saved my life.  

Every week I tell myself I won’t give into her. I remind myself that she’s annoying and pint-sized and just plain exhausting.  And I almost believe it until she crosses my path again. Then somehow every care in the world falls away except for the one that has to do with making Leia happy.  

I must have a mother thing.

I snort as I adjust the ridiculous poncho she’s put me in.  I barely remember my mother.  She died (or left?) before I was nine years old.  Feel like I should remember more.  Wasn’t that young.  But my life got pretty crazy for a while after and it seems to have scrambled what came before.  I remember she was pretty.  Red hair, bright like most Lothalians. And she was the one who gave me these eyes.  

She wasn’t a delicate woman.  When her mouth was closed she seemed sweet and timid, but once she opened it you knew where she came from.  She would curse and spit like the sailors she’d bedded in the brothel she came from.  But she was kind, not two-faced like my father.  She said what she meant and meant what she said.  And late at night, after another hardscrabble day, she’d tell the best stories.  That’s when she was really beautiful, when her eyes got all twinkly and she’d share that hidden longing for magic I see in most women.

Don’t see it in Leia.  Wanted to for a flick.  Maybe.  But, she’s all business all the time.  And it’s not even a good business.

“Remind me again how you’re paying me?”  I ask, slipping on the mask she’s shoved into my hand.

She tenses and I can practically hear the crackle of her temper.  I feel am answering surge of frustration.  

“How many times do I have to remind you, I ain’t in this for your revolution?”  

“Or me?” Leia snaps, turning to pin me with that dark brown gaze.  She has good eyes, I’ll give her that.  Deep, compelling, hard to sneer at.

But I make an attempt.

“That what you want, Princess?  Want me following you around like a puppy dog?  Like—”

I almost say Luke.  But there’s that friend thing again.  Now it’s messing up my zingers.

Still, it seems to snap her out of it.  She recoils ever so slightly which puts me even more on edge.  

“I certainly do not want that,” she sniffs, “I just thought…never mind.  We’ll take a portion of the relief fund for your retainer.”  

She makes me feel so small sometimes.  And Han Solo is not small.

“This thing doesn’t run on dreams, you know?  Or on hope,” I purposely reference her rallying cry, “it runs on fuel.  Fuel that’s harder to get and more expensive than it’s been in 20 years.”

Leia glances up at me, and I feel my stomach knot up like it does around her.  It’s that mother thing.  Makes me feel like a naughty little boy.

“I know,” she says carefully, “and I’m willing to pay you, was planning to, but when you ask like that.”  Her nose scrunches up and the knots sort of dance into my chest.  It’s not a normal thing for knots to do.

“Yeah,” I sigh, trying to release them.  “Know I drive you crazy.”

The side of her mouth quirks just a bit, and out they go.  I feel back to normal except for that queasy feeling I get when I know she’s won.  I’ve prioritized her happiness once again.

“Alright, well, we’d better get going.  Those transponders aren’t going to deliver themselves.”

Leia nods and slips her mask on as well.  I can’t help but feel relieved by the reprieve from her eyes.  They peek trough the the mask but are shaded into an almost nondescript darkness.  Nothing striking about those.  

We both look ridiculous, her in a black witch’s costume and me in a nerferder get up because of the holiday on which we’ve landed.  The night of the Veil happens once every three years on Lothal and causes general commotion on the planet.  A three-day long festival encircles the day when the veil between this plane and the spiritual one supposedly comes down.  

I pretended not to know any of this when the Princess briefed me, but the truth was I knew it well.  Many of my mother’s stories, the only things I remember with crystal clarity, happened during or around this day.

I’d almost told her when she’d mentioned this place. Felt it on the tip of my tongue.  Of course, I bit down on that impulse.  Can’t be spilling my guts to every pair of pretty brown eyes, but I remember that almost now as we venture into the Lothallian night.  

Never told anyone about my mother.  Told a few people about my father.  Mostly other smugglers when I was starting out.  He was both proof I knew the business and a way to show them I’d be better.  Tore him down with all the berks that knew him.  

But, never had a reason to talk about my mother.  Doesn’t really matter when she’s gone and I’m grown.  But I feel the strangest desire to talk once again.  Almost a pressure on my tongue.  

I open my mouth just as a streak of black dashes across Leia’s feet. She squeals and jumps back, knocking into me.  I reach down on instinct and steady her shoulders.  The feel of warm skin through cheap satin almost singes my fingers.

“You okay?”

She lifts her hand to her chest then let’s out a soft laugh.  Something about the sound of her mirth and the feel of her skin makes my head swim.  I step back and shake my head, searching for whatever it was that scared her.  It’s only as I almost give up that I see the little critter sitting on a fence post bordering the outskirts of town.  

“What is that?” I say, squinting up at the small, squat beast with luminescent green eyes.

Leia catches her breath and looks to where I’m pointing.  

“Ohhh…” she breathes, “it’s a loth-cat.  She’s so pretty.”

I frown as a foreign chill goes up my spine.  I’m not one for superstition, too smart for that, or too old.  But I can almost swear I hear my mother’s voice in her rough Lothallian accent.

If their path be crossed by a loth-cat “Tis your true love you’re staring at

She always swore that’s how she’d met my dad.  My good for nothin’ father, selfish and shifty and stupid.  But she loved him.  Enough to make me almost believe in his goodness.

He was sitting in the parlor - at the grand piano - she’d said.  And the madam’s loth-cat - a rare, and prized pet to have on any planet - had jumped onto my father’s lap.  

“For a minute, I thought she’d claimed him for herself. But not in a mo’ she glared right at me with them laser eyes and crossed straight to the floor.  Knew he was mine right then.”

She’d smile wistfully at that, sometimes straight my father, who was probably too drunk to notice.

Love made you do the stupidest things.  

“Might want to keep going, Princess. Loth-cats are bad luck.”

She peers over her shoulder at me, flashing a mischievous smile.  

“How would you know?”

I squint at her.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think I saw a flash of magic behind that mask.

“Know better than you.  How many folktales did your fancy tutors tell you?”

She tilts her head, “None.”

“Well, then—“

“But the cooks told me plenty.  And my chambermaid Giirta.”

The loth-cat looks down in interest, it’s tails twitching to and fro.

“Alright,” I murmur, curious in spite of myself, “and what’d they tell you?”

Leia’s mouth opens slightly then shuts right as the loth-cat meows.

“Nothing,” she says, her voice returning to her normal alto timbre, “I don’t remember anything about a loth-cat.”

I am tempted to take her word on this.  I should drop it anyway except…except…

I know her tells.  I know when she’s tired, her shoulders slump and that famous Princess posture goes straight to hell.  I know when she hasn’t eaten in half a day, her tongue’s as sharp as vibroblade and quicker than my quick draw. And I know when she’s stretching the truth, she bites her bottom lip.  

Just like that she’s doing right now.

“Never heard about them, huh?”

She shakes her head and makes a real good show of getting back on the road.  Apparently neither the loth-cat nor I want this conversation to end cause he chooses that moment to leap off the fence post and onto my shoulder.  The damn thing claws my neck trying to get a grip then leaps across my body and scampers into the brush.  

By the time its over, I think I have aired out every Corellian curse that I know.

I finally look back at Leia to see her mask pushed up and those troubling brown eyes wide with shock.  I touch my hand to my neck and circle back to a couple curses as I look at the bright swath of blood.

“Now that was bad luck,” Leia said, voice substantially softer.  She briskly moves into my space and reaches for my hand.

She clicks her tongue like a little matron and lifts her hand to my chin.  I try to focus on the burn of the scratch rather than the brush of her fingers.  It’s just the damn nursery rhyme putting weird ideas in my head.

“He got you good,” Leia says more soothing than serious.  “Wait a moment.”

She reaches down into the bag she’s been carrying and draws out a small box.  She sets it on the fence post, the same one the loth-cat just vacated, and reveals its contents.  

“You brought a bacta kit with you?” I ask, unable to keep the shocked skepticism out of my voice.

She pins me with a look then lays out her supplies.

“I’m always prepared.”

Something about her demeanor, the back to business air, makes me want to rattle her.

“I can tell you what it means,” I say, smoothing out my tone to silk, “If you want.”

For a moment I don’t think she’s heard me as she plucks something from the pile and strides purposefully towards me.  It’s a damp cloth that she dabs gently on my neck.

“I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

She circles back to the box and returns with a substance both warm and cooling.

“Oh I think you’d be interested in this one, Princess,” I say, enjoying the way her lips tighten and her nostrils flare.  I’m pretty sure she’s blushing though it’s hard to see in the bleached light of the moons.

She finishes molding the bacta to my neck then takes a step back.

“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

My answering smile is so big it threatens to displace her handiwork.

“Now, why should you say that?”  I counter, “You don’t even know what i’m going to say.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve caught her now, but she parries as she always does.

“If it’s coming out of your mouth, it’s bound to be insufferable.”

I throw my hand to my heart caught now in a full-on performance.  “Now, is that a nice thing to say to the love of your life?”

Leia starts then stares for a long moment.  I almost have enough time to regret the foolishness coming out of my mouth when she steps towards me one more time.

“Ah…right,” her voice is more of a purr now, “I do remember something along the lines of…” she pantomimes a frown of concentration then recites as if by rote:

“If their path be crossed by a loth-cat ’‘Tis your true love you’re staring at”

She’s centims away, close enough to breath in.

“So it’s you then?” She asks, eyelashes aflutter.  “My knight in…tarnished armor?”

There’s a hint, more like a hold-full, of challenge in her eyes.  For a flick, I consider taking her up on it, dipping my head and taking those lips, nibbling them the way she had when she told her fib.  Instead, I do the stupidest thing I can possibly do because, well, I’m me.  

“Yeah, I’m the knight.  And you’re the Princess.  Just like in all those stories my mama told me.”

The word drops like a detonator into the silence of the night.  Leia falters.

“Your…mother?”

I realize too late what I’ve done, ended the fun and ushered in something private and tender and painful.  A new wound exchanged for an old one.

“Forget it, “ I say, stepping back and turning to look at the town over the length of farmland field.  “It’s a stupid superstition.  Let’s keep going.  We don’t have all night.”

For a moment I think she’ll actually do it, actually listen to me for once.  I don’t know why that makes me feel s—

“Who was she?” Leia asks, almost like an afterthought, as she packs up her bacta kit.  

I don’t look at her, considering my options.  I could shut her down, but we’ve got a long night ahead of us and I’d rather not do it in silence.

“She was a no one.  Poor as dirt.”

Leia listens for more.  That tell is a tilt of her head.  I look away, feeling the words rise in response.

“But she loved me,” I can feel Leia’s eyes on me, and for a moment, I hate myself.  “She tried.  S’more than I can say about anyone else.”

I hear the song of crickedas seem to swell as Leia takes this in.  

“She told you stories,” she says finally as she slips the box back into the bag of transponders.

I want to shrug this off, go into my well-worn routine, but there’s something about the still serenity of the night singing around us.

“Yeah,” I say, letting the weight of some long lost thing settle in my chest.

“So, tell me one,” comes Leia’s voice, cool and clear.

I look over at her and she’s already turned back to the road, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve.  She’s nervous too.

What’s she got to be nervous about?  I’m the one about to spill my guts.

And out they come, earnest and detailed and oh-so-embarrassing.  She laughs and cajoles and clamors for more.  As that phantom longing grows in my chest, rather than diminishes, I think once again, I shoulda left the damn rebellion.

But somewhere in the Lothalian night, there’s a black cat that just might know better.

[waitjustaflick]

New Story

Excited about this little tidbit that came to me upon waking this morning. This is a first draft with no edits and just the beginning, but I wanted to share. Call it the prologue...

~~

It starts when she picks up the baby on Tellorr. At first, I am struck. Something about the sight of her cradling a little squib tugs on some thread under my ribs. She looks...different. Strong, but tender. The smile on her face is one I haven't seen, her eyes completely clear with no shade of pain lingering in the background.

I try to imagine her as a mother. It's startlingly easy as she makes a little noise at the fussing infant. I can see her surrounded by tykes, eyes alight in the same way, teaching them about the days gone by when peace was something that had the be fought for. She turns and smiles at me, eyes still full of starlight but now shaded with something even more different...

[Cub, the family is sick.]

Chewie's warble is as quiet as it gets, but his paw is insistent on my shoulder.

"Huh?" I say, still stymied by the last part of my day dream. Leia looking right at--

[It looks like the Dreamer's Flu. Did the Princess have a shot?]

This gets my attention. I let go of the vision, a little reluctantly, and look at the people around her. They are a sorry lot. The mother is looking at Leia with wide, swimming eyes - she seems alert enough. But the old man next to her and another woman around her age stare off into the distance mumbling to themselves. Sweat pours down the man's face while the woman shivers uncontrollably.

I look back at Leia who has the infant tucked against her shoulder now. She is murmuring soothing songs into its ear and that string is pulled just a little more.

"We gotta get going, Princess," I sound regretful and maybe I am. It's not every planet turn I get to see something so lovely.

Recently made a deal with myself. I can be however I want in my head. Was getting real tiring trying to pretend I didn't want Leia. She's pretty much the only attractive woman on base after all. I can think whatever I want, just gotta keep my hands and my other parts to myself.

Because the truth is, I don't want to hurt her. It's the strangest feeling. Or feelings. On one level, I want her the way I've always wanted a pretty woman. Well, maybe a little more than that - add in her sharp tongue, her stunning wit, those compelling eyes and craving might be a better term. But, I---I worry about her. She's so young. It took a while for me to wrap my head around. She acts like a dowager. But, she's barely out of her teens. She doesn't have anyone to protect her from...creeps like me.

So, I do that. I have my thoughts. Then I protect her from them. It's weird. Don't ask me about it.

Leia glances at me. It seems like that string is connected to her eyes because it goes taught. Everything tightens when she looks straight at me.

"We have a little time. He's almost asleep."

My eyes narrow inspire of myself. Why does she never listen to me? Even when I'm trying to be all big brotherly.

"Chewie sees some white helmets over the stalls. You want to bring them here?"

That gets her attention. Her serenity disappears (shame, that), and she turns back toward the mother. The woman is shaking her head and pleading with her in some language. Leia looks pained as she answers back. Of course, she knows it. She reaches toward me.

"Do you have any money?"

"I have what you paid me," I make show of looking over my shoulder to hurry her along.

"I'll pay you back," she looks pleadingly at me. "Please, Han."

There's nothing like that sound from her lips. Undoes me every time. She could probably ask me to blow my own brains out and I'd do it if only she said, "Han."

"Alright, Princess. Just hurry up."

I hand her the embarrassingly light billfold (the Falcon's been a fussy girl lately), and she shoves the credits in the woman's hands. The woman looks grateful but her family continues to stare and moan. Without conscious thought, I am gripping Leia's shoulder and guiding her by the waist. She stumbles a little, but she doesn't protest, keeping pace with me, back in soldier mode. I feel a little pang of guilt about lying to her. But then I remember the shivering woman in the doorway, and I let that go.

"You've been vaccinated for Tellorish flu right?"

~~

Get ready for Force-enhanced flu, terrified Han and heroic Chewie! I have the story in my head, just gotta find the time to get it down. Let me know what you think!