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It’s been three standard weeks since she’s seen him.
Leia’s getting used to this, the way Han flits in and out when it suits him with nothing resembling a clear schedule and no knowing with what illegal, strange and sometimes outright dangerous cargo he’ll arrive at their front door. It drives her up the wall, but she supposes she has only herself to blame for not asking more probing questions when he called on the way back from his latest job.
It’s been three standard weeks, and she doesn’t want to pay too much attention to the way her heart skittered for a moment when she heard his voice earlier, but if she’d asked the right questions, she might have insisted he stay away longer.
‘You told me,’ she says, trying hard not to breathe deeply, ‘that you’d been smuggling fertilizer.’
To his credit, Han is keeping an acceptable distance away from her now, though he has no business looking as cheerful as he does. She wonders if his most recent cargo has laid waste to his olfactory receptors.
Chewie emerges from the ship, a forlorn air about him that seems much more appropriate. Leia manages to keep herself from heaving and takes another step away from them as the Wookiee moans at Han.
‘You’re not gonna die; stop being dramatic,’ Han tells him. He turns back to Leia and points out, ‘I wasn’t lying!’
‘I assumed you meant chemical fertilizer!’ she exclaims.
He shrugs. ‘I’m told this stuff’s more potent.’
‘You don’t say.’
The slight breeze through the open hangar changes direction and the smell becomes overwhelming, even from a distance. She makes a choked noise of disgust and covers her nose with her hand.
Han’s brow furrows and he sounds more than a little put out when he says, ‘Listen, Your Highness—’
She cuts him off. ‘If you’re about to suggest that my not taking kindly to you showing up stinking of—what exactly do you smell of?’
‘Uh…’ He scratches at the back of his head, weight shifting from one foot to the other. ‘You know, I didn’t ask for many details on this one.’
That’s fine; Leia realizes as soon as the question is out of her mouth that she doesn’t want it answered. ‘Regardless,’ she says, ‘if you’re about to suggest that I’m being snobbish, you can save it. I’m surprised you haven’t triggered an evacuation.’
‘Ah, c’mon. You’re exaggerating.’
‘Am I? Have you smelled yourself?’
He takes a good sniff of his shirt and then coughs. ‘Fine. I take your point. But for the money the guy paid us I’d have hauled it twice as far as we did.’
Chewie lets out a groan. Leia doesn’t need to be fluent in Shyriiwook to know that his feelings about whether the job was worth it differ from those of his co-pilot.
‘Did he also pay you to roll around in it?’ she enquires.
Han bristles. ‘Okay, you know what, Princess? This was a tough job and we don’t appreciate all this…’ He breaks off, gesturing as he searches for the right word. ‘Snark. Do we, Chewie?’
Leia backs down a little. She supposes they’re in a far worse position than she is. She doesn’t want to imagine how the Falcon must have smelled while the job was ongoing. ‘I’d just have been grateful for a word of warning.’
‘Sorry,’ he says, with another easy shrug. ‘Smuggler’s habit. The less you can get away with telling people, the better.’
‘Well, the Alliance is already well aware that everything you’re doing is varying degrees of illegal and has no intention of turning you over to the authorities,’ she reminds him. ‘So with us, in the future, perhaps you could try for just a little more transparency. Or, failing that, deep-clean your ship before you come within ten light years of us.’
‘I’ll give it a go,’ he promises. He turns his head and smells his shirt again, then grimaces. ‘Listen, the shower on the ship’s busted; you mind if I—?’
‘Please,’ she says, giving him and Chewie a wide berth as they pass. ‘I’m begging you.’
***
‘What is that?’ Leia demands, as Han comes hurrying down the Falcon’s boarding ramp.
‘Hey, sweetheart; good to see you,’ he says, stopping just long enough to thrust the small, fur-covered white thing into her hands and rushing over to the edge of the hangar.
‘Han!’
‘I’ll explain everything in a second,’ he calls over his shoulder as he yanks a fire extinguisher off the wall. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll replace this.’
‘You have multiple fire extinguishers on your ship,’ she reminds him.
‘Used ’em,’ he says.
‘What, all of them?’
‘I’m in a dangerous line of work; it happens!’
She nods at the creature he’s handed her, which truly appears to be nothing more than a ball of fluff with eyes. ‘Yes, this does look particularly hazardous.’
From inside the ship, she hears Chewie give a panicked yelp. Han’s eyes widen.
‘I’m coming!’ he yells. To Leia, he says, ‘Even so, I wouldn’t let that thing bite you.’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t?’ she asks, and raises her voice to call after him as he dashes back up the boarding ramp. ‘Where would I be without your brilliant advice?’
The thing squeaks and squirms in her hands, showing tiny fangs. She adjusts her grip on it, trying to move her fingers out of nipping distance, and makes a mental note to walk very fast in the other direction the next time she sees the Millennium Falcon docking.
For now, it seems, she’s expected to just stand around waiting for its captain, which she does, irritation building by the second.
Han and Chewie both look rather ruffled when they reemerge from the ship.
‘Everything’s under control,’ Han announces, bright and self-assured in a way that is very much at odds with the singed sleeve of his shirt. He sets the fire extinguisher down on the duracrete floor of the hangar with a loud thunk. ‘How are you?’
‘Please take your pet back,’ Leia says.
‘She’s not a pet; she’s cargo,’ he tells her, scooping the little animal out of her hands. ‘And she’s about to make us a nice pile of credits.’
Chewie growls.
‘Yeah, I know some of it will have to go on repairing the fire damage and the wires they chewed through,’ Han snaps. ‘We’re still gonna turn a profit, so quit complaining.’
‘“They”?’ Leia repeats, heart sinking.
‘We have thirty onboard,’ he says. ‘Only someone didn’t properly shut the crate, so they escaped and caused some trouble.’
Chewie makes another low grumbling sound.
Han looks up at him. ‘It was not m—You know what; I’m not having this argument with you again.’
The Wookiee grunts.
‘Right,’ Han agrees. ‘Could’ve been either one of us.’
Chewbacca responds again, but Han chooses to ignore him this time.
‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘they’re all rounded up and back where they belong now. No harm done.’
‘And what are they, exactly?’ Leia asks, looking at the creature. Han’s cuddling it against his chest in a way that might almost suggest he’s become attached.
‘Snuzzleguffs,’ he says. ‘People like ’em as pets.’
‘Snuzzleguffs…’ She racks her brain for a moment and then looks at him, alarmed. ‘Aren’t they poisonous?’
Han makes a “pfft” sound. ‘Barely.’
‘You see, I was hoping for “no”.’
‘These are just babies,’ he says. The snuzzleguff attempts to roll out of his hands and he shifts to stop it slipping, remarkably unconcerned about its brief baring of teeth. After a second it settles against his chest again. ‘Besides, they don’t often try to eat humans.’
‘Again,’ she says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, ‘I’d feel much more comfortable if you’d offer me some absolutes. How long will you and your furry friends be staying?’
‘Not long. I thought I’d give them their dinner while we’re here, though.’ He scratches the snuzzleguff’s head. ‘Wanna help me? Chewie’s already refused.’
‘No,’ Leia says, exchanging a look of solidarity with Chewbacca. ‘I don’t.’
This turns out to be a mistake, because Han asks for other volunteers. Word gets around that there’s a number of small, round, fuzzy creatures in the hangar as fast as any order High Command has ever given, and people are soon flocking to cuddle them, willfully heedless of Leia’s repeated warnings that they’re venomous.
‘Hope I didn’t mess up your day too much,’ Han says to her later, as they sit on the floor of the hangar bay. The snuzzleguff baby he had before has made its way back to him, and he’s cradling it gently in his arms. She’s certain she heard him making cooing noises at it earlier. It might be endearing if she wasn’t still annoyed at him.
‘I expect it would have been more productive had you not turned our base into a petting zoo,’ she tells him.
‘You’re not having enough fun, Princess,’ he decides. ‘Me and Chewie had best be making a move. Look after this while I go break everyone’s hearts, would you?’
He deposits the snuzzleguff in her lap and heads off to collect up the rest of them before she can protest, leaving her staring after him.
Winter Retrac soon comes and takes his place, sitting cross-legged opposite Leia and stroking the snuzzleguff’s soft fur. ‘You know, he’s really rather cute,’ she says.
‘Don’t tell him that,’ Leia mutters. ‘His ego’s inflated enough as it is.’
Winter’s brow furrows. ‘I was talking about the snuzzleguff.’
‘The snuzzleguff is a “she”,’ Leia says quickly, and as her friend’s expression shifts into a knowing smile, she adds, ‘Shut up.’
***
‘Pass me that fusing pen,’ Han instructs Leia, his hand popping up above the maintenance hatch to point over to her left.
She picks up the pen, which has seen better days, judging from the way it’s starting to rust at the bottom. ‘You could do with a new one.’
Han makes a non-committal sound.
Maybe she could get him one, she muses. Perhaps he has a birthday coming up.
She gives herself a mental shake. She’s not sure he’s a birthday gift sort of person, and besides, gifts of any kind are the last thing on anyone’s mind at the moment.
‘Leia?’ He waves his hand insistently over the top of the hatch. ‘Fusing pen?’
‘Say “please”.’
He sighs. ‘Please. Quicker I get this done the quicker I can get on with whatever it was you called me for, you know.’
‘I don’t see why that means manners should go out the window,’ she retorts, putting the fusing pen into his outstretched hand, which disappears back into the space in the floor.
‘Thank you.’
She smiles. ‘You’re learning.’ She moves forward and kneels at the edge of the hatch, looking down at him. ‘Han, why don’t you just let a repair droid in here to fix that? I’m sure we can spare one.’
He looks up at her, appalled. ‘Sure. Let’s let ’em go to town on the whole ship while we’re at it.’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That’s their intended purpose.’
‘Not on my ship, sweetheart.’
‘It really couldn’t hurt,’ she coaxes. ‘This thing’s falling apart at the seams.’
‘No droids,’ he snaps.
Leia considers dropping a wrench on his head. ‘Then at least let me do something.’
‘No need,’ he says around the fusing pen that’s now between his teeth. ‘I’m almost done.’
‘You said the same thing twenty minutes ago,’ she reminds him. ‘And you would have been right, if you’d only stopped being so damn stubborn and asked for some help.’
‘I don’t like anyone working on her except me and Chewie,’ he says, squinting at the wires behind the panel he’s pried open.
‘Yes,’ Leia says, ‘and much as your tendency to guard your ship like a jealous lover is a charming trait, I really did call you for a reason, so if there’s any way we could speed things along—’
‘Hold on.’ She has to move back a little when he sticks his head over the edge of the hatch, grinning up at her. ‘I heard “lover” and “charming” in the same sentence.’
‘And with all other words removed it might have been quite complimentary.’ She looks away from him, leaning over to inspect his cargo—a single crate containing nothing but what appears to be a stack of sketchbooks. Rare though it is, paper seems a remarkably mundane thing for Han to be smuggling, and she reaches in to pick out the top book, curious.
‘I don’t work for the Alliance, remember?’ he asks, hauling himself out of the space in the floor. ‘I can’t be at your beck and call every minute.’
She looks back at him, that particular frustration that relates to Han and his inexact relationship with the Alliance flaring in her chest. ‘Oh, yes, you’re so put-upon. You know, there are people who are here risking their lives every minute of every day—voluntarily, might I add—while you’re off smuggling—’ She opens the sketchbook in her hands and abruptly closes it again. ‘Porn. You’re smuggling pornography.’
‘I am not smuggling porn!’ Han says indignantly. ‘I’m a guy with standards! Those are very tasteful nudes!’
‘You know, I usually feel that the less I know about your business dealings, the better,’ Leia tells him, ‘but I have to ask: why?’
‘Why am I smuggling them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because the folks who sit on the Imperial Board of Culture are a bunch of stuffed-shirt, killjoy prudes.’ Han reaches over to take the sketchbook off her, idly flipping it open.
‘And I take it these pieces are suddenly in high demand?’
‘Got it in one. Getting censored by the Imps is a gift to an up-and-coming artist.’
‘I hadn’t figured you for such an art enthusiast,’ she says archly.
He shrugs, still absorbed by the contents of the scrapbook. ‘She’s talented, I think.’
Leia snorts. ‘What a surprise.’
‘I’m serious!’ Han exclaims. He hands the book back to her, open on a sketch of two lovers entwined. ‘You don’t agree?’
She looks at the picture, if only because it seems like a much better option than looking at his face. ‘She does seem to have… captured the moment,’ she admits, feeling her cheeks beginning to grow warm.
If Han notices, he doesn’t say anything. ‘They both look like they’re enjoying themselves,’ he agrees, gesturing to the two figures. ‘And each other. I like that.’
Her heart rate picks up in a way that’s distracting, to say the least. ‘That’s your standard, is it?’ she asks, wondering how it’s possible that she’s sitting with Han Solo in the hold of his ship discussing erotic art, and, more to the point, why she feels so flustered when she had a comprehensive sex education and is perfectly well-equipped to talk about such things like a mature adult.
‘Hey, there are worse standards to have.’ He meets her gaze, mouth quirking up at one side. ‘Wouldn’t you say, Your Highness?’
There’s a long beat that hangs between them while all her words stick in her throat. After the silence has stretched on for just enough time to tip over from “awkward” into “mortifying”, she forces out, ‘I wonder how long it will be before everyone hears about your cargo and we lose another day’s work?’
He winks at her, which does nothing at all to help with the blushing. He’s definitely noticed by now. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ he says. ‘But if you want, you can buy one.’
‘Why would I want to buy one?’ she asks.
‘Consider it an investment. They’re gonna be worth a lot some day.’
‘I’ll pass,’ she says dryly, putting the sketchbook back into the crate with the others and standing up. ‘Whenever you’re ready to join us.’
As she leaves, she tells herself he must have the heating set too high.
***
‘Is it at all possible,’ Leia asks, as she takes in Han’s two extra passengers, ‘that I’m just very, very sleep-deprived and hallucinating?’
Han winces. ‘I’m sorry,’ he tells her. ‘I am. I feel terrible about this, really.’
She supposes that’s something, but of course he wastes no time in ruining it.
‘It’s not my fault, though.’
Chewie smacks him around the head before Leia can even think about how much she’d like to do so.
She rubs at her temples. Godsdammit, this was supposed to be a quiet day. Comparatively speaking, anyway. How she didn’t factor in the strong possibility that Han Solo would sweep in and make it less quiet, she has no idea. ‘You realize this goes against every possible rule we have regarding you bringing your day job onto our base?’
‘What rules?’ he demands. ‘We never talked about rules!’
‘Oh, did we not?’ she asks icily. ‘Then let’s do it now: no living creatures, nothing that requires us to hose the place down three times to get rid of the smell, and it would be just lovely if, on occasion, you could keep in mind that this is supposed to be a covert operation.’
‘I don’t see anyone else complaining,’ he says.
Chewie growls.
‘I don’t see anyone else complaining except you and Chewie,’ Han amends.
‘That’s because no one else wants to come anywhere near here,’ she says. ‘I’m only here because I thought I’d enjoy yelling at you enough that it would make up for—’ She indicates behind him. ‘That.’
Han reaches out to pet one of the scrawny, odd-looking creatures. ‘And did it?’ he asks.
She narrows her eyes. ‘It’s unclear.’
‘If it helps, the Grizmallt nerf might not even be a true nerf.’
‘It doesn’t help,’ she says flatly. ‘Still, it’s good to know that you’re now an expert in the field of xenobiology. I’m sure that will come in useful.’
‘You ought to know by now, sweetheart,’ he says, breezy. ‘I’ll get interested in anything just as long as you pay me enough.’
In fact, Leia knows this is far from accurate, but she can’t be bothered to have this argument again. Instead she asks, ‘Can I pay you to get interested in not disrupting my day?’
‘Sure, I could work out a price for that, though I think you’d miss me,’ Han says. Before she can assure him that he’s quite mistaken, he continues, ‘Some collector offered me ten-thousand credits just to bring him a couple of these. They’re pretty rare, you know that?’
‘Yes,’ she says, ‘but I don’t care. How did you even get them on the ship? More to the point, why did you bring them off the ship and into my base?’
He holds his hands up. ‘Honestly, Princess, I wasn’t even planning on stopping here, but they were getting antsy and you were close by.’
‘Hmm. It’s almost as though they weren’t intended to travel on a light freighter.’
‘I just need to let ’em stretch their legs,’ he says. ‘In my defense, I didn’t think you’d find out. I meant to get Luke on the comm, not you.’
‘Luke’s on a supply run.’
‘Yeah,’ Han says. ‘So really it’s kinda his fault.’
She shakes her head at him. ‘You know, there are times where the extent to which you infuriate me is quite staggering.’
He gives her a winning smile. ‘But I make up for it all the other times, right?’
‘No,’ she replies. ‘All the other times you infuriate me a manageable amount.’
‘Huh,’ he says. His smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘I’d never have guessed.’
He thinks he’s charming and he’s not.
He’s not.
She closes her eyes and takes one deep, calming breath. ‘Well,’ she says, opening her eyes and smiling back at him, showing teeth. ‘Perhaps in the future I’ll have to be more expressive.’
***
She finds him cleaning his blaster, a pleasing orderliness she wouldn’t have expected to the way he’s got the component parts laid out on the table in front of him. Less pleasing is the fact that the table is in the mess where they eat every day, but given what she’s about to ask, she’ll let it slide. She rolls her shoulders back and approaches him.
‘I have a job for you.’
Han glances up at her. ‘Sorry, Princess,’ he says. ‘I would, but I gotta take off again soon. I need something that earns real money.’
‘I know that,’ she says. She sits on the stool next to him, facing away from the table so that she can lean back against it. ‘I’m offering you real money. I want to hire you in your capacity as a smuggler.’
He pauses for a second in the cleaning of his blaster. She’s got his attention now.
‘You do?’
‘Yes.’ She examines her nails studiously. ‘All that talk of being the best in the galaxy isn’t just bragging, I hope?’
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Han says. He gives her a sidelong glance, as though sizing her up. ‘You know, I don’t come cheap. I’ll cut the price ’cause you’re a personal friend, but—’
‘Seven-thousand,’ Leia interrupts. ‘I took the liberty of cutting the price already.’
He gives a low whistle, throwing the oil-stained cloth aside and turning to face her, hands resting on his knees. ‘Seven-thousand, huh? To do what?’
‘Just a short trip to Zeltros.’
‘Zeltros as in “threw a party a few thousand years ago and never called it a night” Zeltros?’ Han asks, raising his eyebrows.
‘More importantly for our purposes, Zeltros as in “managed to remain completely free of Imperial rule” Zeltros, but yes, I’ve heard it’s rather fun.’
‘Then you should come with me,’ he suggests. ‘You could use a break.’
‘That’s a nice offer,’ she says, ‘but you won’t be there for very long. The deal is already set up, and you’re expected. You shouldn’t need to spend more than an hour or so planetside.’
He eyes her, fingers drumming against the tabletop. ‘What’s the catch?’
‘What makes you think there’s a catch?’ she asks innocently.
‘Ah, now, don’t play games, Your Highness. No way you’re offering me seven-thousand credits for a job as easy as you’re making it sound.’
‘The job’s exactly as easy as it sounds,’ she says. ‘Certainly for the best smuggler in the galaxy, which is why we’re willing to pay highly—it’s worth it for someone we trust to do the job and do the job well. I don’t anticipate you having any trouble with the run at all.’
‘Okay. So what’s the cargo?’
‘Hmm?’
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ‘You heard me.’
‘Ah, yes.’ She smiles back at him. ‘Ten espionage droids.’
‘Aha!’ Han points an accusatory finger. ‘I knew there was a catch!’
‘Yes.’
‘What exactly is this revenge for, sweetheart?’ he asks, setting his elbow on the table and leaning in close to her.
‘You’re terribly self-centered, you know,’ Leia says, raising her eyebrows. ‘We need the droids, and I’ll give it to you that you seem to be good at what you do. I don’t throw away thousands of credits to exact petty vengeance.’ She pauses and then adds, ‘By the way, you’ll be seven-thousand credits richer, so let’s not pretend you’re getting nothing out of this.’
‘All right,’ he says. ‘It’s fine, anyway. I’ll just turn ’em off.’
‘It’s your ship,’ she concedes. ‘Finish what you’re doing here and then come and find me; I can brief you on the particulars.’ She goes to stand and then looks back at him. ‘Oh, one thing I should mention—your contact’s Basic is somewhat lacking.’
Han shrugs, picking up the nearest piece of his deconstructed blaster and turning it over in his hand. ‘I know most trade languages.’
‘I assume you never bothered to learn droidspeak, though?’
‘Come on!’ The piece of metal hits the table again. ‘The seller’s a droid too?’
‘The seller is a Zeltron who seemed very busy.’
‘Uh-huh, so instead it just had to be a droid, did it?’
‘I couldn’t arrange it any other way.’
‘Sure you couldn’t,’ he mutters. ‘No, Your Worship, I never learned droidspeak, though I’ll certainly start working on it.’
‘An admirable goal,’ she says. ‘But I suppose for now you’ll have to take Threepio.’
He gapes at her, for once speechless, and she’ll relish this moment for the rest of her life.
‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ he agrees finally, glaring at her. ‘But you know what? Joke’s on you, ’cause I like that guy.’
‘Do you really?’
‘Sure. He’s…’ Han grimaces, the word, it seems, difficult to spit out. ‘Fun. Just a laugh a minute. We’re pals, me and Threepio.’
‘Well, then, I certainly look forward to hearing about all the laughs you have together on this trip,’ Leia says sweetly.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘I look forward to telling you. Give me five minutes and then you can brief me.’ Mostly to himself, he mumbles, ‘Not revenge, my ass.’
‘It’s not,’ Leia insists. ‘We need the droids and you’re the best person for the job, like I said.’
Han perks up a bit. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yes.’ She grasps his shoulder and smiles. ‘The revenge, which is for far too many things for me to list, is a nice aside.’
The look he gives her is almost admiring.
***
‘What did we say,’ Leia asks, voice steely as she looks at the crate in Han’s arms, ‘about telling us what you’re bringing in before you get here and not after?’
He and Chewie exchange very pleased looks, although Leia can’t think why. ‘Well, that would have ruined the surprise, wouldn’t it?’ he says.
‘I’m not sure I like your surprises, Captain.’
‘Remember the fertilizer job?’ he asks her.
‘I think I have some vague recollection,’ she says. She nods at the crate. ‘I assume I’d know by now if that was more of it.’
‘Nah. The guy who bought it put it to good use,’ he says, putting the crate down, and crouching next to it, producing a multitool from his pocket and setting about opening it. ‘And say what you want about it—the stuff works. And I was thinking… I sometimes take liberties with the Alliance—don’t say a word, sweetheart—and it’d be nice to give something back. And I was also thinking maybe you were sick of ration bars. So.’
He pries the lid off the crate and Leia’s breath catches.
She can’t remember the last time she saw so much fresh fruit. Just the sight of it, piled ripe and bright in the crate, plenty of types she recognizes and some she doesn’t, is enough to make her mouth water.
‘For you,’ Han says, plucking a vibrant orange sunfruit out and handing it to her. ‘And there’s more onboard. It won’t all keep, but—I don’t know, Princess; you’ve got a lot of Rebels here. Think they might be able to help out?’
So he’s into giving gifts, after all. Leia looks down at the sunfruit and feels her lip tremble.
His smile fades. ‘Oh—hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. If you can’t use it we can take it away again; we just thought—’
‘No, no,’ she says quickly, swallowing. ‘I’m—this is so unexpected and—and so sweet of you.’ Feeling a sudden, desperate need to do so, she wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight. ‘Thank you,’ she manages. ‘Both of you,’ she adds, gesturing to Chewie to come join the hug.
Han grunts as the Wookiee happily complies. ‘You called me “sweet”,’ he says, but it’s not teasing; his voice is soft as his chin rests on the top of Leia’s head.
She nods against his chest, arms tightening around him. ‘Just this once,’ she says. ‘Don’t expect me to make a habit of it.’
He lets out a chuff of laughter. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘I’m sure I can summon some very willing volunteers to come and help you unload this.’
Reluctantly breaking away from her, Han nods. ‘We’ll go and get started.’
She smiles at him, eyes shining, and bites into the fruit as she turns away. When she’s out of hearing range Chewie nudges Han, growling softly.
‘Shut up,’ Han mutters.