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In the shade of the trees of Ajan Kloss, Leia closed her eyes, resting. If the Emperor was truly back, if things were as dire as she feared… how would they ever win?
Same way we always do, she hears Luke say, his Force ghost coming to sit next to her. Lotta luck. Little bit of stupidity. And the Force.
She chuckles, reaching out her hand, as if he could hold it. He covers hers with his, as if he could provide any warmth. Don’t give up.
“I won’t,” she says. “I never do, do I.”
It usually pays off.
“Sometimes.” Her expression turns rueful, as she thinks back to Han, over all the years she’d never given up on him, and how it had never worked out in the end. She sighs.
You know, sis. Some people do date again, after a divorce. Luke says it with such a smug grin, as if he is still just a kid, getting on her nerves. She shoves him, though it does no good.
“I tried.”
Reading romantic holo-novels doesn’t count.
“I went on a date! Once!” Leia suddenly hopes that no one else is around to hear such a ludicrous statement from their leader’s mouth. She’s the commander of the Resistance. She’s not supposed to have romantic relationships. She’s not supposed to have anything fun, anything indulgent… Which was exactly what the night of her so-called date had been.
Really.
“Okay, it was more like a… it was more of a run in on Eriadu,” she mutters, color high on her cheeks. “We did… I mean. There was kissing involved.”
And a lot more besides, from the sound of it. Luke waggles his eyebrows at her. Who was this person? Anyone I knew?
The past tense is a painful reminder that Luke is gone, that this is his ghost, no matter how real he feels. Leia grimances. “Sort of.” She thinks of her fingers grappling against cold Beskar as her body arched in pleasure, her breath catching in her throat as gloved hands slid under her Rebellion uniform jacket. She thinks of him, the person she never should have kissed, let alone trusted, and blushes. And despite herself, she thinks for a moment of how happy she’d been when she’d woke in the morning, to find him next to her, his battered green armor in a pile at the foot of her bed.
All right sis, Luke holds up his hands. You keep your secrets. But please. Don’t give up hope.
“For the future or for my dating life?” she asks ruefully.
Luke winks. Why not both?
Luke fades away a moment later. She lets him go, knowing that, as always, it could be the last time she speaks to him. No one really understands Force ghosts, least of all Leia. She lets the conversation go, too, throwing herself back into planning and hoping and leading.
She doesn’t hope much for her dating life, though, annoyingly, that memory doesn’t fade away as easily as the rest of the conversation. The bounty hunter’s voice lingers in her mind, as it has for nearly a decade now. Her face heats as she remembers the way he’d groaned her name, the way he’d whispered that she was beautiful, something no one had said in a long time.
THe way she had felt, for that brief night, completely whole. Boba Fett had given something back to her, with his words, with his actions, with his kisses, that night. She’d met him in fury, hoping for a battle, a brawl, something to replace the aching emptiness inside. The two had clashed, that had been true, but the battle had turned heated in an altogether different way.
How long have you wanted me? She had asked him, sprawled out in the Slave I’s narrow bunk.
From the moment I saw you.
She had laughed, assuming it was a joke, assuming Fett had been more occupied with his dark tasks on Cloud City.
He hadn’t laughed. Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, traced a line down her collarbone with his free hand, and smirked. And, eventually, I always get what I want.
So do I. She’d said, but that had been a lie. She had spent a lifetime focusing on everything others wanted, ignoring her own desires. She still, as the planning re-commences, has that skill, pushing aside everything, everything but the lingering memory of his kiss, for the sake of the mission.
You should work harder on that, then, Leia. He had said. If you did, you might be happier.
I am happy.
Are you? He’d raised one eyebrow.
I can be happy. She corrected herself. When peace has been won.
Then I will look forward to that day. He’d smiled.As if he didn’t play a part in the absence of peace. As if his selfish actions never made a mess for someone else. As if…
As if he’d actually cared about her happiness.
Boba’s smile lingers for a long moment, as Leia tries to stare at the blinking holomap, focusing instead on the task at hand, rather than the memories of the rare moment where she’d allowed herself an indugence. Eventually, the memory fades and the battle begins.
---
Leia had asked for all ships, asked for help from every planet, every moon, she had hoped anyone would show up.
She just hadn’t expected… him.
“There was a bounty on your head,” Boba says, putting his feet on the table. She’d dragged him into her private quarters, when the Slave I had landed right next to the Falcon, as if it belonged there. As if his appearance among the Resistance wouldn’t ruffle any feathers. As if… Leia shakes her head. He’s as confident as ever, which means he’s attractive as ever. “Which I never cashed in. Coulda bought a planet.”
“That’s hardly an act of kindness.”
“You sure about that?” His hand rests on the helmet in his lap. Leia finds herself wishing he was wearing it, just so that she wasn’t so damn distracted.
“Fine.” Leia snaps, her tone going flat and bored. “Thank you, Boba, for not killing me.”
“Welcome,” he replies.
There’s a long pause.
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “And thank you for your help with the battle against the Final Order.”
He lifts one shoulder in an effortless shrug.
She hesitates, not quite sure what she should do with an attractive man in her private quarters and no battles ahead to busy herself with. Somewhere, distantly, she hears Luke’s laughter, and her scowl deepens.
“Mm, seems like you’re a liar.” Boba Fett tells her.
“Why… what do you mean?”
“You said you could be happy, when the war’s over.” He raises one silvery-black eyebrow. “Last I checked, the war’s over. But you’re not happy.”
“Why you…” She strides over to him, pushing his feet off the table. His boots hit the ground with a thud, as he maneuvers so she’s trapped between his knees. Boba smirks. She puts her hands on her hips. “Did you help out just so that--'' So that she’d be happy?
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he retorts, but there is a glint in her eye. “Total control, by Jedi or Sith, is bad for business.”
“Business,” she repeats.
He inclines his head.
“If that’s all, then--”
But Boba moves forward, faster than she’d thought he could, given the years that had passed. Strong arms wrap around her waist, tugging her forward, until she’s fallen onto his lap, her hand splayed on his chest plate to hold herself steady. It’s embarrassingly similar to how she’d last spent time with him (only that time there had been far less armor between them) and her blush deepens. Fett’s hand moves from her hip to her neck, then, down her shoulder, his fingers sliding under her tactile vest. It’s been so long since she’s been touched like that, Leia shivers.
“Boba…” she gasps out.
His smirk widened, before leaning closer to kiss her neck, then, her lips. The kiss is hot, hungrier than Leia thinks she deserves, being the age she is, until she remembers that Fett just as old, if not older. If he has no shame in making out like a teenager, why should she? Leia’s free hand travels over his shoulder, up to the bristly dark hair, to tug the locks gently, as the kiss deepens.
Boba groans, softly. His arms tighten their hold. Leia doesn’t think he’s going to let go anytime soon, and she is very sure she doesn’t want him to. The war is over. FInally. Maybe it really is time for her to get what she wants. Maybe it’s time to be just a little selfish.
She’ll let someone else hand out the medals, thank the heroes.
She’ll let someone else lead, just for a little while.
For right now, she wants this hope, this foolish, incredible hope, that she’s finally stumbled into something deliciously, indulgently good. “Is that the only reason?” she asks, breathlessly, as his hand dips lower, touching even more tender skin. “Just business?”
“No,” Boba chuckles, his voice a warm growl. His teeth graze her bottom lip, gently. “galactic domination is also bad for pleasure.”