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“Attention, Rebel Alliance, we are arriving on Coruscant. Once we have landed, I will call—page the two people—the… personnel assigned to today’s mission and give them their cover stories.”
Han Solo shook his head affectionately. The Rebellion’s newest pilot, Emmett, was incredible at flying his passengers to their destinations, but he couldn’t make a professional-sounding announcement to save his life. He got the point across, at least.
Briefly Han wondered who his partner would be and what their cover story was. Of course, he didn’t have time to think much about it before he was being paged to the cockpit. Emmett grinned at him.
“Alright, Han. You’re a couple on a romantic trip to Coruscant. That’s what you’re going to tell anyone who asks. You’ll drop the cover for the smugglers, of course, but anyone who’s not related to your goal gets the couple-on-vacation story.”
Han just stared for a moment.
“I’m… finding it a little hard to pretend to be a couple all by myself…”
Emmett laughed and slapped his forehead, making Han roll his eyes.
“Of course. I forgot to page your lovely lady friend.”
Han raised an eyebrow—he didn’t have any “lovely lady friends,” not since joining the Rebellion. He didn’t want any, either, unless it was—
“Paging Princess Leia Organa, please join us in the front for a briefing.”
Han’s heart skipped a beat. Had Emmett read his mind? Leia was just about the only woman in the Rebellion he’d want to be with. Not that he actually wanted her, of course. Just… if he had to pick one Rebel to date, it would be her.
When he’d admitted that to some of the others, though, they’d teased him relentlessly for having a crush on the Princess, even though he absolutely did not.
The only reason his heart was beating so quickly was because he got flustered when anyone suggested they were together—obvious proof he didn’t like her, he wasn’t excited about it or anything. Though his heart didn’t slow down any as the Princess herself entered the cockpit.
She was beautiful, with her large brown eyes, her soft yet stern features, her hair somehow always in place.
She turned to Han, who froze for a split second.
He hadn’t been ready for a conversation at that moment, he was still lost in thought. Nothing to do with who the conversation was with.
“Yes, Emmett? I take it Han and I are going on this mission together?”
Emmett nodded, a bit too enthusiastically in Han’s opinion.
“Of course. Now, you are Harrison and Carrie Brightmoon, a young couple from Tatooine taking a romantic trip to Coruscant.”
Han avoided looking at Leia when Emmett mentioned their cover story, only glancing at her when necessary as the details of the actual mission were being discussed.
Apparently there were several new smugglers on Coruscant, most of them non-human. Han and Leia were there to convince them that while the Empire could pay them better, the Rebellion didn’t discriminate against non-humans. When they were done, they would hopefully have at least one new Rebel with all the skills of a smuggler.
When the briefing was done, Emmett sent them out with a grin, exclaiming, “Enjoy your trip, Mr and Mrs Brightmoon!”
Han’s heart swelled with excitement just like it always did before a mission—and he was certain he was not feeling any more excited than usual, regardless of certain impossibly beautiful, sharp-witted, Alliance-leading princesses.
“You’re from… Tatooine, right?”
Han nodded, hoping his worry didn’t show on his face—Coruscant was the capital of the Empire, they had to get this right.
Han had a blond wig on and was wearing a tunic just like the ones their friend Luke Skywalker often wore, while Leia wore large glasses and a similar tunic, with a long red-haired wig in a simple ponytail. Despite the relatively plain outfit, she looked as stunning as ever, and Han found himself gazing at her often, how her pulled-back hairdo revealed the elegant shape of her face, how the glasses only made her brown eyes more captivating, how the casual tunic made her seem… free, almost. Like she’d left every duty and worry and unpleasant thought back on the ship with her uniform.
Leia nodded at the desk clerk, a young golden-colored Zabrak who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.
“Yes.”
The clerk managed a smile.
“How’s Coruscant so far?”
Han smiled back in the same tired way.
“Very… different than Tatooine.”
Han wasn’t from Tatooine—that was Luke—but he’d been there enough times to get the idea, and he never wanted to go back.
The clerk nodded.
“I’ve heard. Well, you’re in room 1138, you can find your way alright?”
Leia nodded. Han sure hoped she’d be able to find their room. Even more than that, he hoped it wasn’t a room meant for a couple—that would be a bit too awkward.
After dropping their luggage off in their room—the Alliance had packed them some clothes that hopefully looked the part of “couple on vacation”—Han and Leia changed into their fanciest clothes and headed for a restaurant. They needed some food, and a good place to plan.
Han tried not to stare as Leia came out in a golden evening dress with her false hair intricately braided and piled on her head. He wondered what she would look like dressed like that without the disguise.
She sent him a smile.
“You clean up nicely.”
Han glanced down at his own suit. He was glad he didn’t blush easily, or else he’d be as red as a tomato at the moment. He was beginning to have a definite suspicion that his friends were right about him and the Princess, but he still held onto the possibility that he was just flustered about going on a “date” with someone when he didn’t like them that way.
Although that possibility was seeming less and less likely, especially when Leia, as they entered the restaurant and found their table, took his hand as they helped each other into their seats.
The touch of her hand sent sparks through him, and he had to take a moment to clear his head before ordering—and pulling out the map so they could make their plans for the next day.
Princess Leia pointed to a location on the map.
“I know you might not want to think about food as we’re eating now, but our breakfast reservation tomorrow is at eight-thirty, at Henrietta’s.”
Leia referred to a popular restaurant and spa on Level 1313, but she pointed to a specific back alley on the lower levels. Han understood. They hadn’t had time to develop a code or anything, but they were both trying their best to understand what they meant while speaking as if they really were a couple of tourists.
“And our friends will meet us there?”
Han nodded.
“Just look for two Nautolan, a Zabrak, three Trandoshans, and a Mikkian.”
He looked at Leia meaningfully.
“They know me from work. I haven’t actually met them, but they’ve heard of me from their bosses.”
Leia nodded. Usually she would be suspicious of working with a smuggler, but Han had softened her stance a bit. He had a nice personality, once you got past the rough exterior.
Though he didn’t look very rough at the moment. She’d teased him about it in the room, but she really did think he looked nice in a suit.
Though for some reason she wished he had his normal hair, he just didn’t look like Han in that wig. Not that she had any reason to care. In any case, she enjoyed working with him more than any other Rebel. Not that she’d ever admit it to him, or anyone.
Especially not after the day she’d heard a couple of Rebels teasing him about her. She was used to overhearing the occasional newbie being teased for admiring her in any way, and normally she didn’t mind. They were usually just starstruck after serving under a princess. But for some reason the idea of people thinking she was with Han really irked her. Obviously she would never date someone like him! Regardless of their current situation…
Leia wondered what Han’s friends would think of this. She wouldn’t tell them, and she hoped Han didn’t either.
Aware that an awkward silence had cropped up between them as they ate, Leia cleared her throat.
“So, you’re going to talk to them about their standing with the CEO, and then see if they’ll join us at the country house?”
Han nodded.
“Sounds like a plan.”
At that moment, the waiter stepped up to the table.
“I’m so sorry if I’m interrupting, but were you finished with your meal?”
Han glanced in Leia’s direction.
“I was, were you?”
Leia nodded.
“Of course.”
Realizing that their previous conversation had sounded more like business colleagues planning a meeting—which was honestly the truth—Leia added, “And thank you for taking me tonight, dear.”
Her heartbeat quickened for some reason, especially as Han turned to her and smiled lovingly.
“You’re welcome…”
Leia felt her cheeks warm as he held her gaze for what seemed longer than necessary.
The waiter cleared their throat.
“If you’ll just pay, I’ll be on my way, and you can have your romantic moment together.”
Leia laughed nervously.
“Thank you.”
Han was a good actor. She’d gotten caught up in the moment herself, imagining a young couple in love like they were pretending to be.
Han’s pulse was still racing as he entered the hotel room. He hadn’t exactly been pretending when he’d given her that look. It was pretty exciting, telling everyone they were together, even though nobody saw them as Han and Leia.
He wished it were real, though he knew she’d never return his feelings. He could have sworn her cheeks had gotten a little pinker when he’d looked into her eyes, but it had probably been the lighting.
As they sat down, it occurred to Han that they would, in fact, have to share a bed that night.
“Do you want to go shower?” Leia asked suddenly.
Han nodded, glad for the subject change.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go first?”
Leia shook her head, removing her glasses and wig and letting her glossy brown hair fall down.
For some reason, that image—Leia in a golden dress sitting on the bed with her hair spilling over her shoulders—remained in Han’s mind for the next several minutes.
Leia tried to collect her thoughts as she cleaned off.
Why had she reacted like that earlier? It wasn’t like she fell for anyone who so much as looked at her or anything. She’d gotten a lot of admiring looks from just about everyone in the Rebellion, for one reason or another, and she had never once been flustered, even on the occasion someone admired her in the romantic sense. The only option was that she had feelings for him. But that wasn’t the case… was it?
Han began turning off the lights, walking slowly to each switch, taking as much time as he could before he had to climb in bed with her.
There was no denying it anymore, Han had fallen head over heels for the Princess. He spared one last glance at her before turning out the light.
She was somehow even more beautiful than she had been at the restaurant, sitting on the bed in a white nightgown, her hair in a simple braid. She looked like something out of a movie, but at the same time so ordinary, nothing like the legendary Rebel leader Han was used to.
And the idea of being in the same bed as her all night was almost too much to bear…
Han hoped she couldn’t hear his heart pounding as he climbed in next to her, putting as much distance between them as he could.
Leia crawled under the covers, trying her best to ignore Han. His sleep shirt was a simple gray T-shirt, much less elegant than his suit from earlier, and a far cry from his usual vests, which gave him an air of confidence, but there was something endearing about the way he looked in it. Han Solo, smuggler turned Rebel, seemed larger than life at times, more of an archetype than a person, but here he looked just like anyone else.
Leia smiled to herself as he pulled the blanket up to his shoulder. She still didn’t know what this feeling was—or maybe she did know but didn’t want to say—but at the moment, it didn’t seem so bad. She was happy like this.
Ever so slowly, she placed her hand on his. She noticed him stiffen.
So he felt it as well? Or was it just wishful thinking?
“Hey… I just wanted to say, good luck tomorrow. And don’t beat yourself up over it if we can’t convince them.”
Han sent her a smile.
“You too. Thank you.”
He paused, moving closer. Leia’s heart skipped a beat, though she moved towards him as well.
“Good night, Your Highness—Leia.”
Leia smiled back at him, not even caring that she was probably staring at him like a schoolgirl staring at her first crush.
He was giving her the same look, though, as far as she could tell in the dark.
“Good night, Han. You make a wonderful fake date. And an even better partner.”
She didn’t mean it like that. She meant a partner in their mission.
But, lying here together, their mission forgotten, feeling as if they were the only two beings in the world, was there really a difference?