Work Text:
“Shut up,” Han said under his breath.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something. I can feel it.”
Han could hear the smile playing on Lando’s lips as he spoke. “And what am I thinking exactly?”
“I have no idea, but whatever it is, I don’t like it. Now shut up.”
A few moments passed while they crouched in the dim corridor in silence, waiting. Han out in front, closest to the action (and the danger), as always.
“What if I’m thinking about how good your butt looks in those pants?”
The remark startled Han. A little too much. He was glad Lando couldn’t see his face. It wasn’t that Lando never made comments like that—sometimes it felt like that was all he did. It just…it just startled Han every time.
“I would say now’s not the time,” Han said, making his voice as harsh as he could manage.
“Are you implying that there will be a time later on?” Lando was absolutely grinning now, Han knew it. That exact tone. That was the one that drove him crazy. The one that made him want to punch Lando in his stupid smug face, with its perfect smile and cheekbones.
“I didn’t mean—” Han stopped before he could say it. He sighed. “Look. Just shut up already, would you?”
“Whatever you say, Captain.”
The way Lando said Captain sent a shiver down Han’s spine. Maybe he just liked being called Captain. Or maybe he liked the fact that it was Lando saying it… Han shoved that thought out of his mind. It was too much to deal with right now, smack dab in the middle of a job that would either gain him 50,000 credits or lose him his head.
“You know, calling me Captain implies you’ve finally accepted I’m in charge of the Falcon now,” Han said, to cover up anything Lando might have noticed.
Lando scoffed. “I think you’re reading into that.”
“I’m just saying, that’s what Captain means.”
“You can tell yourself that if it helps you feel important,” Lando said. “Now listen, I’m tired of waiting. Either we need to make our move on the shipment or you need to make your move on me before I get too bored and lose my mind.”
Han spun around to face him. They were…closer than Han had anticipated. Lando’s eyes popped a little in surprise before he composed his face into its usual roguish smile.
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect that to work, but sure. Let’s do this.”
He was already a few inches closer before Han realized what was happening.
“Are you insane?” Han shoved him away. “We’re trapped in hyperspace on a Mandroxan Cartel ship full of people who would immediately kill us if they found out we were here, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
“That’s always what I’m thinking about when you’re around, baby,” Lando said. It infuriated Han, truly infuriated him, for no reason he knew. This was just the way Lando spoke to people. Usually Han could put up with the flirting—joking, he corrected himself, because he knew Lando couldn’t be serious—but suddenly he couldn’t stand it. In that moment, Han was so glad this would be the last job they ever pulled together, even if they did both make it out alive.
“I’m so sick of your shit!” Han exploded, albeit in a whisper. “Can you just stop it? Please?”
He hoped it sounded more like an angry outburst and less like a desperate plea. Confusion entered Lando’s eyes, and his brow furrowed. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Han had hoped for, but at least he had shaken the playboy shtick.
“Han, I—” Lando started to say, but just then they heard footsteps coming down the corridor perpendicular to the one they currently stood in. They froze into an urgent silence as they were forced back into the zone for the job they were here to pull off. Whatever conversation they were about to have could wait. Han was actually relieved. He would rather face armed Mandroxan gangsters than a heart-to-heart with Lando.
Han peeked around the corner and saw two figures approaching that appeared to be guards of some sort. They were both an average height, with wide shoulders and thick arms and legs. Han couldn’t tell their gender or even species underneath the head-to-toe plasteel armor they both wore. They were exactly what Han and Lando had been waiting for.
Han turned back to Lando and gave a thumbs-up. A new sense of energy and enthusiasm filled him now that it seemed their plan could actually work.
As the guards passed the side corridor where Han and Lando waited, they each ambushed one. Han got the bigger one because somehow, even on less than a moment’s notice, Lando could maneuver himself into the least precarious position in any situation. It was part of what made him such a good smuggler and gambler. It did not, however, make him a very good partner. Han made note of this as the guard’s huge arm came crashing down on top of him. Han dodged it just in time and managed to grab the guard’s heavy staff. By the time he conked the guard on the back of the head and dragged their unconscious body into the side corridor, Lando was there, head and torso already swallowed up in the other guard’s armor.
“Thanks for the help,” Han said.
“Anytime,” came Lando’s muffled voice through the helmet. Han got the feeling that something was off with him. The word was more strained than Lando’s quips tended to be.
Maybe Han was imagining it. Even if he wasn’t, why should he care? He didn’t owe Lando anything. Well, money. That’s why they were here together in the first place. But friendship, concern, emotional support? Never.
“Oh god,” Han said when he pulled the helmet off the guard he had knocked out. “This one stinks.” If he pulled a face and wrinkled his nose overdramatically in an attempt to get a laugh out of Lando, he would never admit it. He didn’t get a laugh anyway. He didn’t get anything. He peeked over at Lando, who was pulling on the boots of the other guard.
“I’ll need a hand with the gauntlets,” Lando said, turning to Han. Han whipped his head around to face the floor in front of him so Lando wouldn’t know he had been looking at him.
“Yeah, sure,” Han said. “Just let me get this stuff on.”
He pulled the rest of the armor off his guard and fitted it onto his own body. It was a little too big in some places—namely the arms and the thighs—but it held its shape enough that someone wouldn’t be able to tell unless they were paying close attention. If Lando were his usual self, Han thought, he probably would’ve said something along the lines of It’s a good thing I’m the only person here staring at your ass, or we’d be made. Han didn’t miss it.
He missed it a little.
When he had pulled his own boots on, he walked over to Lando, who handed him the gauntlets without a word. Han fit the first one onto Lando’s forearm. For some reason, he started sweating way more than he should be, and he felt like a balloon was inflating inside his chest. He wished he had put on his helmet. They were so close now, Lando could see everything on Han’s face if he wanted to.
Which, Han told himself, wouldn’t matter, because nothing was happening on his face. Nothing was happening at all. This was nothing.
“Is that too tight?” Han asked.
“Tighter,” Lando said. It was innocuous, but Han felt a hitch in his chest all the same. He tightened his grip on the gauntlet, on Lando’s forearm, and strapped it down.
Sweat trickled down Han’s side inside the stuffy armor, and he still didn’t understand why. He wanted this to be over with, to get on with the job, to get Lando his credits and get rid of him for good.
“There,” Han mumbled after haphazardly fastening Lando’s second gauntlet. He stepped back as soon as it was done, as if releasing a spring that had been pressed tightly between Lando and himself.
It wasn’t fair, Han thought, that Lando could see his face but he couldn’t see Lando’s. He looked anywhere but at the helmet’s black eyes. He hoped against hope that Lando wasn’t laughing at him under there.
“I’ll do yours,” Lando said, reaching for the other set of gauntlets.
“I got it,” Han said. He didn’t need anything from Lando. He didn’t want anything from Lando. God, he just wanted this to be over.
They made their way down the main corridor toward a set of double doors. They both stood tall, squared their shoulders, did their best to step in unison, just like real guards. Han gripped the guard’s staff, felt the weight of his own trusty blaster where it rested in its holster against his thigh. Tension crackled in the air around them because really, they could be caught at any moment. They had seen blueprints of the ship and knew where they were going, but they had never planned to be on board this long. They were supposed to dock the Falcon on the belly of the Mandroxan ship, sneak into the cargo hold, grab the spice shipment the Mandroxans had stolen from the Hutts, get out, return the spice to the Hutts, and get paid. Simple enough. But then the ship had jumped into hyperspace and hadn’t dropped out for an hour at least. They were stuck on board, and they had no intel on personnel movements, security protocols—they didn’t even know where the ship was headed. At this point, they were flying by the seats of their pants.
The best they could do was try to fit in while they got ready to grab the spice and high-tail it back to the Falcon the second the ship dropped out of hyperspace.
“You’re sure this is the cargo hold?” Lando asked when they reached the double doors at the end of the hall. He held the guard’s clearance chip, hovering over the door’s automatic lock.
“I’m sure,” Han said.
“You’re sure sure? Because if we get lost on top of everything else, I don’t think we’re making it out of here.”
“Trust me,” Han said, half-smirking, half-grimacing under his helmet at the irony of the request. “This is the cargo hold, and the spice is right on the other side of that door.”
What he didn’t say was that he and Chewie were the ones who had put it there. That they were the ones who had stolen it from the Hutts in the first place and sold it to the Mandroxans. That they were stealing it back in an attempt to get paid twice for the same score.
Lando didn’t need to know any of that. If they succeeded, he would get the money Han owed him plus his own cut of the Hutts’ reward, and he would be happy. If they failed and both cartels found out Han had double-crossed them… Han didn’t want to think about that at the moment.
Lando swiped the guard’s clearance chip, and the doors slid open with a decompressing hiss. As Han had known it would, it revealed a high-ceilinged, dimly lit room which contained several stacks of crates and nothing more. Han’s eyes flitted immediately to the far corner, where he and Chewie had unloaded the crates of spice. They still sat right where he had left them.
“There,” Han said, pointing. He set off in the direction of the spice and Lando followed as the door slid closed behind them with a soft swish.
“How can you possibly know that?” Lando asked.
“I guess I’m just better at this than you are.”
“In your dreams.”
Han smiled. They were partly back to normal, at least.
Which wasn’t what he wanted, he had to remind himself. He was through dealing with Lando. He didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t even want to see his face. Or he really, really wanted to, but that possibility was too scary to dwell on.
As they moved through the room, they found no one else was in the cargo hold. It was the second thing in a row to work out in their favor. Either things were starting to look up or something terrible was about to happen.
When they reached the far corner and stopped, Lando unlatched the lid of one of the crates and pried it open. A soft glow emanated from inside, reflecting in his shiny plasteel helmet.
“What do you know,” he said. “You were right.”
“Always am,” Han said. They both knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but what else was he supposed to say? I’m right because I’m lying to you about all of this.
“That’s some awfully specific intel to have.” Lando narrowed his eyes. “Who did you say your source was again?”
“I didn’t. And I’m not going to.”
Lando held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I can respect that.”
“So,” Han said. “We’ve got the goods. Now we, uh. Wait. I guess.”
“Not much else we can do.” Lando settled down onto the floor, his back against the spice crates. He pulled the helmet off his head and leaned back. His hair was sweaty and matted from the helmet, and Han realized he had never seen Lando without perfect hair before. It made him seem a little less untouchable.
Han wished the ship would drop out of hyperspace right that second. He didn’t know which would be worse, sitting in awkward silence trying to pretend Lando wasn’t three feet away from him or continuing the conversation they had almost started earlier.
But the ship didn’t drop out of hyperspace. So Han sat down too, against a stack of crates across from Lando. He removed his own helmet, knowing his own fluffy hair must be a hundred times wilder than Lando’s. Han had never been untouchable in the first place.
A few minutes passed, and it seemed they were taking the awkward silence route. Either that or Lando had actually fallen asleep. The cargo hold was so dark that Han couldn’t see whether his eyes had drooped shut. Typical, Han thought. Lando could have a nice nap while he sat up watching out for both of them.
Then Lando picked his head up, and his eyes drifted over to Han. Han didn’t realize he had been staring until their eyes met. The corners of Lando’s mouth turned up in a smile, but it was…sad? Wistful? Han couldn’t tell, and then it was gone.
“Are you going to elaborate on your little outburst?” Lando asked.
Oh. So they were going to talk after all. Shit.
“It wasn’t—I didn’t—”
“Come on, Han. You’re sick of my shit? What shit would that be? I’m dying to know.” That confusing smile was gone from Lando’s lips now, replaced by the old smug and playful smirk. Just like that, Han was furious again. Because it always came back to this and it always would. This was who Lando was. A player in a game that never ended.
“All of it,” Han said. “I guess I shouldn’t say I’m sick of your shit. I’m just sick of you.”
Lando’s hand fell over his heart. “You wound me.”
Han shook his head and stared at the ground. This was exactly why he didn’t want to talk to Lando.
“I’ll stop complimenting your ass, if that’ll help,” Lando said. His voice was a touch softer than it had been a moment before. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I know exactly what you meant, Han thought. It’s what you mean all the time, any time you talk to anyone.
All he said was: “Great, thanks.”
For the first time in his life, Han believed that there really might be some higher power in the universe, because just then, he felt the familiar lurch in his stomach of a ship entering real space. He leapt up from his seat on the floor a split second before he heard the cargo hold’s door swish open.
The next few things happened so fast they blurred together, and yet every second was its own distinct universe.
A hand grabbed Han’s arm and dragged him down behind the crates. The same hand wrapped around his back and held him firmly in place, pressed him close to the person it belonged to. A voice whispered in his ear, the touch of its breath filling every part of him: “Follow my lead.” And then soft lips touched his, brushing against them, moving around them. He had the sense to taste them. He had the sense to close his eyes. And then a new voice, one he didn’t know, one that lacked all the tenderness and concern of the first one, was shouting. A boot was kicking at his legs.
Han opened his eyes, and he remembered where he was. A pair of glaring humanoids, a man and a woman, stood over him. Him…and Lando. Lando Calrissian, who Han was lying on top of. Lando Calrissian, whose arms were wrapped around him.
“Explain yourselves,” the angry woman said. “Now.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s all just relax,” Lando said, untangling from Han and sitting up. “We were just having a little fun.”
“We don’t pay you to have fun,” the angry man said. “Where are you supposed to be?”
“We’re supposed to be checking on the cargo.” Lando flashed a smile as he gestured vaguely at the crates surrounding them. “Here it is. Safe and sound.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. Leisurely, as if this kind of thing happened to him every day, Lando stood up and brushed off his pants. He reached a hand down to Han, whose brain still hadn’t switched all the way back on yet. Absentmindedly he grabbed Lando’s hand and pulled himself up off the floor.
“I haven’t seen you before,” the woman said.
“First time working on this ship,” Lando said.
“This is one hell of a first impression.”
“What can I say? I like to stand out.”
“What about you?” the man said, shoving Han on the shoulder. “Do you speak?”
“Um,” Han said. “Not as well as him.”
Lando laughed. “You do have a point there, my friend.”
The man and woman still wore stern brows, but their shoulders had relaxed. Maybe…maybe Lando could actually pull this off.
Or maybe not.
“Hang on,” the man said. He examined Han’s face. “I know you. You’re the one who met us on Takodana with the spice. You and that big shaggy thing.”
“Aw, man,” Han said. His hand was slowly inching down his thigh toward his blaster. “I really wish you hadn’t called him a thing.”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, his hand closed around the handle of his blaster, and he drew. Before the man had a chance to move, Han fired a bolt through his chest. The woman took one long stride forward and reached for her own blaster holstered at her hip, but Han was faster. He fired at her once, and her body fell in a heap on top of her companion.
“Han Solo,” Lando said. “You’ve been very bad.”
Han glanced at him, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. “Not now. We gotta get out of here. I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting very fast.”
“Already pretty interesting from where I’m standing,” Lando said as he began loading the crates of spice onto a cart. Han joined him.
As soon as all the spice was loaded up, they took off running down the corridor the way they had come. Han pushed the cart in front of him.
“Chewie,” he yelled into his comm. “You need to get ready. Now.” Han and Lando turned down the side corridor where the two guards still lay unconscious. “Right now!”
Chewie let out a warbled roar on the other end of the comm that let Han know he needed a minute.
“It’s kind of urgent,” Han said as a siren blared over the ship’s intercom.
At the end of the short corridor, he and Lando reached the door to the hatch that sealed the ship’s airlock, and it was time for the part of their plan that was perhaps the most insane of all. Chewie would park the Falcon right outside this door and open the boarding ramp. And then they would all pray to the higher power Han was starting to think might exist that both ships held still long enough for Han and Lando to clamber across the ramp and get inside.
There was a high chance both of them would die and their corpses would float off into the void of space never to be seen again, but hey. 50,000 credits.
The comm crackled to life and Chewie grunted his assertion that the Falcon was ready for them.
“Ready for this?” Han asked Lando.
“You know it.”
Without thinking, Han grabbed Lando’s hand and held it tight. He mashed the control to open the hatch, and there was the Falcon hovering beside them, waiting with open arms for the two people in the galaxy who loved her most. Han and Lando charged ahead together, each pushing the cart with one hand. For one breathless second, they were surrounded by nothing. And then the walls of the Falcon closed in around them as they tumbled onto the floor.
Lando scrambled over to the control panel to shut the boarding ramp tight behind them.
Their eyes met, Han still sprawled on the floor beside the cart full of spice, and they both busted out laughing.
“Son of a bitch,” Lando said. “It worked! You absolute madman.”
Just then a blast from an ion cannon rocked against the Falcon’s shields. Chewie yelled from the cockpit.
“Yeah, well, it got a little complicated,” Han shouted back. “Just get us out of here.”
Han and Lando made their way to the cockpit, stumbling when another blast hit the Falcon. Han collapsed into the co-pilot’s chair beside Chewie, and Lando stood behind him, gripping the back of his seat. A few seconds later and the stars were streaming past the viewport as they made the jump into hyperspace and out of danger.
Han took his first real breath since he and Lando boarded the Mandroxan ship. It was really over now. They were alive, they had their goods, and they were on their way to the biggest pay day Han had seen in a while.
All that, and the only thought in Han’s head was:
Huh. So that’s what it feels like to be kissed by Lando Calrissian.
“So when were you planning on telling me about your little scheme?” Lando asked. They were in the main hold, Lando opening each crate and inspecting the contents while Han sat and had a drink. After everything today, he really needed just to sit and have a drink.
“Oh, right,” Han said. He stared at the table in front of him. “I, uh…I wasn’t.”
Lando smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, I figured.”
“I guess you’re pissed?”
Lando stopped what he was doing and looked at Han, pursing his lips. “Not really. I’m impressed, mostly. Stealing from the same people you sold to is a gutsy move. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“But if something had gone wrong—”
“Something did go wrong.”
Han considered that a moment. “Ok, true. But if we had gotten caught—”
“We did get caught.”
“Oh.” Han paused again. “Yeah we did.”
Everything he had feared would happen had in fact happened, and yet here they were.
“Look,” Lando said. “If anyone had figured out what you’re doing and lived to tell about it, if they’d captured us and—god forbid—told the Hutts what you did and that I was working with you, sure, I’d be pissed. But you pulled it off. You handled it. No hard feelings from me.”
“You know the Hutts will kill us, or worse, if they find out,” Han said. “They won’t care that you didn’t know I double-crossed them.”
Lando shrugged. “Life’s no fun without a little risk.”
Han didn’t understand what was happening. He had just gotten Lando tangled up in one of the most dangerous cons of his life without even telling him about it, and Lando was being…nice. Too nice. It bothered Han.
It especially bothered Han, because something else had happened on the Mandroxan ship, too. Something Han hadn’t even thought to be afraid of. Remembering the sensation of it now, he felt the blood rush into his face.
He was angry, right? That’s what this feeling was? He was angry at Lando for kissing him, even if it was just an attempt to cover their asses. Maybe…because it was just an attempt to cover their asses? Maybe because it wasn’t something more?
No, Han thought immediately. That didn’t make any sense. He didn’t want to kiss Lando, for any reason. He certainly didn’t want more than that, whatever more was. He didn’t even like Lando. God, he was annoying. With his slick grins and snide comments. His flashy outfits and sculpted hair. Lando was a slimy, phony guy. That was all he was…even if he had let his guard down for a moment in the cargo hold of the Mandroxan ship and given Han a peek at what was underneath. The whole point of bringing him on for this job was to get him out of Han’s life forever. Because Han. Didn’t. Like. Him. He didn’t like him at all.
All of this was true—logically, objectively true—and Han knew it.
So why was he, right now, watching Lando from across the room and imagining what it would be like to have those hands moving all over his body?
“Everything checks out,” Lando said. He secured the lid back onto the last crate of spice and sat down at the table across from Han.
“Good,” Han said, acting as if everything was normal, as if his heart wasn’t beating twice as fast as it had been when Lando was across the room from him.
“You’ll be glad when this is all over, huh? When you don’t have to deal with my shit anymore?” Lando smiled, like it was a joke, like it was just another of his snarky quips, but there was a hesitant look in his eyes. He was hovering just on the edge of something, it seemed.
“Absolutely,” Han said. “Can’t wait.”
Lando nodded. And then they were sitting in silence, stewing in their own heads, once again. Han found himself wishing that once, just once, they could say aloud the things they thought in these moments.
“You know, Han, I—” Lando started to say, but he caught himself. “Actually, I don’t think you want to hear that.”
Han swallowed. “Try me.”
Lando’s eyes flickered to Han’s.
“I was just going to say, I haven’t wanted to kiss someone that badly in a while. You didn’t disappoint.”
A million thoughts exploded in Han’s head as a jolt like an ion blast shot through him. He didn’t say anything. He had to keep it cool, and if he opened his mouth right then, he would not be able to do that.
“I was going to say that,” Lando continued quickly, “but I didn’t, because I said I would stop flirting with you.”
In an overwhelming instant, Han realized that this was it. This was his chance to stop pretending, even with himself, and reach for something he wanted, deep down in his bones. He couldn’t deny it anymore.
Actually, he probably could—but he didn’t want to.
“I never said I wanted you to stop flirting with me,” he said, holding eye contact. “Maybe I meant that I want you to stop flirting with everyone else.”
Lando’s eyes opened wider, and his mouth fell open a little. Slowly, a smile dawned on his face, and there was no charm in it. This was not an act. It was real.
That was all Han needed.
He launched himself across the table and grabbed the front of Lando’s shirt, pulling him in closer. This time, when their lips met, Han’s brain did not switch off. He was vividly aware of every second, every movement, every breath. Lando’s lips parted, and Han hungrily slipped his tongue between them. With anyone else, all of it might’ve been too aggressive. With anyone else, Han would’ve moved much slower. But this was Lando.
Without breaking their lips apart, they stood up so that they could be closer. So that they could touch more of each other. So that there could be no space between them.
Han forced Lando backwards until he smashed into the wall. The impact rocked through both of them, and Lando’s teeth nicked Han’s lip. The metallic taste of blood touched his tongue, but it didn’t stop him. He used his body to pin Lando to the wall as Lando’s hands moved up his back, down his sides, as they caressed his face and raked through his hair. They were warm and gentle and confident and better than anything Han could have imagined.
Finally, after minutes or hours or lifetimes had passed, they broke apart, breathing heavily in the hot air they shared between them.
“So that’s what it’s like to kiss Lando Calrissian,” Han said.
“What do you think, Captain?”
Lando’s voice was low and gravelly, and Han’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. Lando smiled, eyes bright. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“I think,” Han said, smirking as he shoved Lando harder against the wall, “that I want to do it again.”
Even as their mouths crashed into each other once more, Han couldn’t believe any of this was happening. He couldn’t believe he wanted Lando Calrissian, of all people. He couldn’t believe he got to have him. And he couldn’t believe it had taken them so long.
What he did believe, though, was the feeling in his gut and the solid surety of Lando’s skin against his. They told him that nothing mattered except for this moment. They told him to give up figuring out his feelings and just let himself have what he wanted.
So he did.
In the captain’s quarters, hours later, Han lay beside Lando in a bed that had belonged to both of them at some point in time. For right now, it belonged to both of them together.
Lando was the one to break the peaceful quiet filled only with the sound of their breathing.
“Not so sick of my shit now, are you?”
Han rolled his eyes, though Lando couldn’t see it in the dark.
“You really never shut up,” Han said.
“Nope. You better get used to it.”
He was right. Han would have to get used to it, because he wasn’t getting rid of Lando Calrissian any time soon.