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“Great fucking job, laser brain. You just had to put on a damn show, didn’t you?”
“I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this. We got the Datachip, didn’t we?’’
Leia panted, her breath caught somewhere between the edge of her throat and the base of her chest. She leaned exhausted against the cold metal wall behind her, her hot breath fuming like vapor waves in the chilling night air. Her brown eyes could almost pierce Solo with their infuriated gaze if she concentrated long enough. The Corellian merely rested a hand on his chest so as to recover his own forces, cheeks red and mouth hanging open slightly dry from the race they had just been through – and not yet won. The brunette’s teeth gritted together in frustration, her fists clenching as she was getting ready to serve Solo a well-deserved punch in the stomach. But she let go of the thought a moment later, her energy already half consumed from cutting through the busy streets of one of the lowest Coruscant levels, getting lost through crowds of strangers and noise, hoping that those bounty hunters had magically lost their trace.
It was supposed to be an easy mission, so easy and danger free that the princess had been confident enough to ask the scoundrel to join her. One of the Rebellion’s underground contacts had gotten some information about a group of bounty hunters selling delicate Imperial data for a relatively cheap price – of course, almost nobody could contact those guys if they didn’t have any sort of relation; they were almost like ghosts (no wonder they called themselves The Phantoms) – tales anyone has heard about but very few had ever had the chance to actually encounter one, not to mention three.
Leia, being the skeptical being that she was, hadn't embraced this route at first: they had no idea how they obtained such classified information; what if they were agents of the Empire, planted like fishing bait so as to attract the desperate Rebels into falling for such a pathetic trick? For over a month she had dismissed the idea whenever their contact had brought it up, insisting that such a possibility was a once in a lifetime encounter they might not run into ever again. And, for once, the Rebellion council had agreed: the sad truth was they were desperate, and any form of help was another pillar to sustain the roof of their movement was more than welcome.
At last, accepting a sour defeat, Leia had agreed to trust their contact's words and decided to meet personally with The Phantoms, despite the sense of threat floating into the air whenever she thought a bit too much about it.
It was supposed to be easy: meet at the assigned location, have a peaceful deal and see whether they could purchase the documents promised without digging too much into the Alliance’s funds and leave. Of course, Leia had expected some disagreement and even a bit of a fight regarding the price differences – she’d been told that The Phantoms weren’t cheap work, but they were trustful and took nobody’s side; they valued their clients’ privacy, Han had confirmed her upon conducting his own little research on them, and never turned down an opportunistic deal.
It was supposed to be so fucking easy.
Honestly, they wouldn’t be running for their lives if Han hadn’t taken the impulsive decision to shoot the woman hunter when nobody was paying attention and snap the trophy of their mission out of her hand like the damn smuggler he was. Leia’s right wrist was still a bit sore from the way he had violently grabbed her without a proper warning and stormed out of the cheap motel room they had arranged as their meeting point into the dirty, filth-drenched streets of the Lower Coruscant. The Phantoms had followed them, Leia had almost gotten shot and Han barely dodged a bullet as they jumped off an old fountain in the center of the main plaza. The entire time she had clung to Han as if he were holding her life on a thin thread hanging between his very teeth – and honestly speaking, she wasn’t necessarily wrong, slipping her hand into his own and digging her fingernails into his flesh as if afraid he might accidentally let go of her. They must have taken at least five different corners in less than three minutes, going left and right at each little crossroad and into the narrowest and darkest alleys. The brunette had no idea how come Han knew when and where to turn so precisely, but judging by his still mysterious and vague past, it definitely wasn’t the first time he had to run for his life on those streets.
And there they were: catching their breath in an awfully tampered space between a restaurant and some pawn shop, sheltering under the cover of shadows as their tired breaths tangled together, trying to come up with a plan how to get back to the surface, hop on the Millennium Falcon and leave before things escaladed out of control.
“This is all your fault.’’ the princess hissed. Han carelessly rolled his eyes, arranging the collar of his yellow-ish shirt. Leia swore it was the very same shirt he had worn when he and Luke had rescued her from the Death Star. If she recalled it being overworn before, now it was almost a rag. Did he really own almost no clothes?
“Will you trust me with this, princess? It ain’t the first time I have to save my skin from a gang of hunters. I know what I’m doing.” the man had replied, yet the brunette still gazed at him with a visible irritation along with some reluctant trust. It was true, Han had saved them through the needle’s eye multiple times through his extended stay in the Alliance quarters — subject that, for some reason, they had both avoided as if it were a contagious illness. Leia bit her lower lip, avoiding giving him a solid answer. For the first time since she knew him, Solo looked genuinely hurt. “Come on, Leia. Haven’t I been your safety net multiple times? Don’t you trust me?”
‘My safety net. Strange choice of words.’ Leia thought, carefully measuring the scoundrel’s words. She was sure there was some kind of secret meaning behind them, but her mind was already in full panic alert and she would get nowhere if she were to try to deduce the encrypted message. ‘But I guess he isn’t completely wrong, is he?’
The princess sighed, letting go of her passing irritation and characteristic stubbornness. Fine, she’ll lay her life into his hands yet again.
“You still have the chip, right?”
“What, you think I’m careless enough to lose something so important? My, I’m truly offended.’’ Han tsked, but Leia rolled her eyes unamused. He slipped a hand inside the inner pocket of his vest and collected a small black case, cracking the little box open just enough to peek an eye inside and spot the outline of a Datachip. He quickly shoved the object back into his coat, checking their surroundings with a characteristic paranoia.
“So, I’ll assume that you have a plan?” the woman inquired, resting her arms on each side of her waist.
“Um, not exactly.’’ the Corellian confessed unproud of himself. “I mean, we have to get out of this place. And we have to not get recognised. . . Guess we’re going shopping.’’
Leia frowned in disbelief, her expression sour as if she had bitten straight up from a lemon.
“This is your grand scheme, really? Going clothes shopping?” she replied, half hoping Han was only messing with her for the sake of it.
“Listen, sweetheart, we can’t stroll through Lower Coruscant and expect to make it to the top alive while being dressed like walking targets. We have to blend in.’’ the smuggler explained, cocking his head just slightly out in the streets before gesturing at the brunette to follow him. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this a thousand times.’’
“Ran for your life chased by bounty hunters on one of the lowest floors of Coruscant?’’ the princess questioned in a half sarcastic manner. To her surprise, Han chuckled.
“Oh, you’d be surprised.’’ he sketched a crooked smile, slipping her tiny hand into his own as a form of security and for his own inner peace – one could never know when danger might just snatch you with its pointy, sharp claws. Leia hadn’t really foreseen his gesture, though the sensation of their fingers tangled together was nothing unfamiliar. They had to cling to one another a few times in the past, faking romances and holding hands for the sake of show or not to get lost from one another in crowded places or unfamiliar surroundings. And though she had grown accustomed to the feeling of his harsh, calloused yet strong palms wrapped around her aching and blistered little fingers, it still made her face mimic the colour of a bright, freshly blossomed poppy in a wheat field. She made sure to pull her hood over her head in a swift movement so as to shield herself until her face would stop burning. “How many credits do you have, princess?” his question had managed to shake her back into her senses.
“Not much. I was supposed to Comm the Alliance once the exchange would go accordingly and we’d have our hands on the Datachip and they’d send us some money to transfer. Though, as you can see, our plan has drastically changed.’’ she replied with half a mouth, speaking only loud enough so the two of them could hear.
Han took an unexpected turn around the corner, stopping in front of a shabby old store with dirty windows. Inside there was a skeleton-like mannequin on which a pair of leather pants and a cheap fur coat rested, next to which rested a huge cardboard sign with the words ‘50% SALE’ written in black marker.
“This should do.’’ the Corellian muttered, gently letting go of Leia’s hand as they stepped foot into the clothing store. Awful music buzzed from the cheap speakers and a stinging, sickeningly sweet smell hung in the air. “Pretty far from being the fanciest thrift store I’ve been to, but I don’t think we’re in a place to comment. Doesn’t look half as bad though, does it?”
Before the woman had time to reply, a hoarse, angry and terrifyingly familiar voice came from outside. The princess and the scoundrel froze, staring a quick glance in each other’s direction. It was her, the bounty hunter woman he had shot. And judging by the way she spoke, she was mad. They were close – The Phantoms had found them and they were dangerously close.
“Grab as many clothes as you can and see what fits best. We pay and we get the fuck out.’’ Han hissed, a worrying note of fear sprinkled in the tone of his voice, and the brunette nodded without even bothering to comment. They split in different parts of the store, picking up hangers off the racks without even bothering to look at what they chose, stumbling into boots and heels on their way to the changing rooms.
Leia closed the fitting booth door with a loud thud!, allowing herself a moment of peace before hanging each clothing article on peg bare and taking a closer look at the clothes she had picked. She let a small current of curses slip through her lips, rubbing her temples as she stared in despair at the options before her. Guess she’ll have to work it out.
No pants would fit her. They were either too small and refused to zip up properly or too long and rolling them up would make her look weird. The two skirts she had accidentally picked were way too short for her liking, even during those desperate times. Just when Leia had lost all hope, she stumbled upon a pair of flare leather jeans similar to the ones she had spotted in the shop window earlier. Far from something she would wear on a regular basis even under normal circumstances, but they were fine – she’d borrow Han’s belt to tighten them up a bit if he wouldn’t mind. She ran into the same issue while searching for a shirt, damning her small size. Eventually, one of the blouses fit her – it was a warm, pleasant shade of golden yellow, though it was more of a piece of fabric that tied with the help of two sets of ribbons at the back rather than a blouse. It had no sleeves and was decorated with golden sequins and glitter, exposing her arms entirely and half of her back. Leia would have to bribe for a jacket so she won’t be forced to parade with her scar-branded shoulders and back through the streets.
As she finished dressing up, the woman sighed, taking a look in the mirror and barely recognising herself. It was true, it had been quite some time since she had worn anything but practical clothes, fit for dynamic missions and working out jobs around the Alliance quarters. Occasionally, she had to attend a few missions undercover, and those had been the only moments had been able to slip into a slightly different attire, a luxurious dress or a formal outfit. But damn her if she had ever had the chance to wear anything close to. . . this. The princess found herself quite surprised by the image – her image – reflected in the dirty looking glass. It was magic what some clothes could do to a person: no right minded person would think that Leia Organa, the last Princess of Alderaan and infamous Rebel Head, would have the guts to walk the streets of Lower Coruscant dressed in a glittery golden crop top that didn’t even cover her stomach fully and a pair of leather jeans.
The thought made the brunette smile proudly in the corner of her mouth, almost amused.
Leia allowed herself another spin in the mirror, admiring her new alter ego before working out her hair. She had only freed the braided tail off the bun at top of her head and loosened a few hair strands so that they’d cover part of her face and give the impression of unkept bangs. She took one last look at herself before heading out of her fitting booth.
“Did you find something?” Leia whispered to the neighbouring dressing room in which Han had locked himself in, knocking gently at the door and being greeted with an intelligible answer. “Are you alright?”
“Define ‘alright’.’’ the man replied through gritted teeth. The brunette frowned as she decoded the words ‘fucking back zipper’, wondering what curious pair of pants he had found. Eventually she heard him sigh defeated, followed by another frustrated ‘fuck’. “Hey, princess? You promise you won’t laugh?” his question had been sincere, wrapped in a thin layer of worry and something Leia was certainly not used in associating with Han – fear.
“I– Yeah, sure. But I don’t understand, why would I laugh?’’ the woman responded with her own question, very much confused by the whole situation. She overheard another sigh, then the click! of the doorknob as the scoundrel opened the fitting room and stepped out. Leia felt a ball of yarn forming in the heart of her throat as she stared astonished at the man before her, her face growing warmer and redder than the most scarlet rose in the galaxy.
Han stood helplessly before her, boots resting behind him, leaning against booth’s mirror-wall. He wore nothing besides a pair of funny socks with a Loth Kittens pattern and a dazzling, velvety and blue dress, almost as dark as the night itself. It was sleeveless, revealing his strong, slightly muscular arms, with two thin straps resting on his shoulders that kept falling off no matter how much the smuggler struggled to keep them in place. The material contoured each curve of his body in a way that Leia could barely describe, contrasting the shape of his hips and falling in a majestic drape that almost reached his ankles. The skirt was split on the left side, and the woman caught herself peeking at his calf and strong thigh just a little – maybe a little too much considering basic decency rules.
He looked. . . gorgeous. Force, Leia wasn’t sure if she herself had even looked half as good ever in any dress than Han Solo did in that moment.
“Could you, um. . . You know.’’ the Corellian said with half a mouth, his cheeks coloured in the palest shade of pink possible, avoiding her gaze sheepishly. “Help zip me up, please?”
The brunette’s mouth hung slightly open, unable to utter any proper words, her mind utterly stricken by the image of the man she had known for almost a year now. The same man who had risked his life multiple times, who had joined her in a number of dangerous missions and had almost never shown the slightest sign of fear, shame or concern regarding his own person. Leia could barely believe that Han Solo, the heartless, money-hungry captain of the Millennium Falcon who, for some unknown reason, had thrown his himself in the wolf’s mouth for her multiple times by now, was the same man that stood now face to face with her, pleading with reluctant, timid eyes to help him with the zipper of his dress. The woman cocked her head to the sides, peeking at the clear surface of the mirror behind Han and noticing how he was struggling to keep up the back of the dress.
A soft chuckle slipped between Leia’s lips as she finally came back to her senses
“What do you think, fly boy?” she replied, almost as if she were enjoying the situation they were in. The princess gestured at him to turn around, and Han dutifully obeyed. With a quick movement, she closed him up. “How come that you ended up in this? No offence, it looks. . . great. It really does.”
The scoundrel’s cheeks flushed to her question, turning his head around just so to hide the obvious redness.
“It’s, um– Nothing else would fit.’’ Solo gulped, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation as the brunette’s reflection materialised next to his own in the mirror.
He didn’t seem to pay that much attention to her at first, too preoccupied studying himself and how the dress seemed to fit him almost like a glove if it weren’t for the way it ended halfway at the length of his calves and how the fabric slightly hung at his chest a bit too much, where breasts were supposed to push it up. Leia’s hand was still clinging to the man’s back, her index finger tracing the line of the zipper and was surprised to feel the man’s back muscles so stiff and tense like they had never been before – not when they encountered Boba Fett for the first time and they almost paid the price with their lives, not when she would banter him about making up his mind about joining the Alliance or not; Hell, not even when him and Mon Mothma had a really ugly fight two weeks ago in the middle of the hall and the princess had been sure that she was gonna kick him out for how he had talked to her. She watched as the scoundrel ran his own hands over his chest and hips, as if attempting to recognise a strange, foreign shape that didn’t belong to him. And, when she dared to peek from behind his shoulder, the woman noticed a kind of glimmer in the Corellian’s eyes unlike anything she would have expected: something that could only be likened to pure shame.
But what did he have to be ashamed for? For putting on a dress? Leia hadn’t laughed about it, and as far as she knew, there were plenty of other men out there who enjoyed wearing skirts and dresses. A small, confused yet visible frown appeared between her eyebrows as she watched the smuggler toying nervously with the draped neckline.
“If you don’t want to wear it you can just take it off, I’ll grab something else for you.’’ the brunette tried to reassure him, caressing his shoulder gently in a gesture of support.
Han blinked, gaze flickering towards the reflection of the woman beside him, letting a bitter sigh escape the cuff of his lips.
“It’s– Fuck, I just– Why did I even put this thing on?’’ the Corellian stumbled upon his own words, covering his face with both hands as if he were scared of Leia judging him, or worse, making fun of his embarrassment.
“Han.’’ the woman gawked at him utterly puzzled for a moment, taking his hands off his face before their eyes met, her mouth hanging open as she searched for the right words – or any words, if she were being honest. “Han, look at me: what’s wrong, really? It’s just a dress, a damn piece of clothing. And if you don’t like it you can take it off–’’
“I don’t want to take it off.’’ the man shook his head, teeth gritting inside his mouth.
“Then what is it? Why are you so panicked?” Leia begazed at him even more confused than earlier, her brown eyes pleading for a response or anything remotely close to an explanation. She squeezed his shaking hands into her own, caressing the bridge of his palms from time to time as she allowed him to drink in a deep breath and calm down before speaking.
“Don’t you think it’s stupid? Don’t you think I’m stupid?” he inquired in a low, afraid tone as his green eyes clouded with fear. The woman blinked slowly. “C’mon, Leia: me, wearing a dress? How does this not sound even a bit ridiculous or, I don’t kriffin’ know, wrong?’’ Solo clenched his fists just slightly, as if he were recalling scenes from an old Holodrama in the back of his mind, except those fragments were probably the one in which the protagonist died or something just as bad happened to them. Leia felt her own heart sting upon seeing Han like this: afraid, haunted by shame of the past. “You can laugh. I know you’re barely holding it back–’’
“Han Solo, has anybody told you how fucking dumb you can be sometimes?” she found her mouth speaking faster than her mind could fully process, head tilted slightly to the sides. It was the scoundrel’s turn to blink curiously, taken completely by surprise. “Why would I do such a thing? Just because somebody else happened to be a total jerk and did that before? I think you look glorious.’’ the brunette smiled with all of her teeth as she placed one hand on his waist and turned both of them around towards the looking glass. “I think the straps really bring out your arms, and this type of silhouette really flatters your waist. I just wish this came in a warmer color, cold shades don’t really suit you that well. But still.’’ she wrapped an arm around his back, embracing him from the sides. “You’re beautiful, Han. In a pair of worn out pants and in a velvet dress.’’
The Corellian stole a timid gaze at the woman in the mirror, his expression softening and the constant stiffness in his body loosening up. He allowed himself another glance in the mirror, studying his outfit – this time without any sort of remorse of self-spite. Leia smiled.
“I think some pearls would really complete the look. What do you think?’’
And, at last, Han turned around and flashed her a starling beam.
“I say I could use a pair of heels as well.’’