Work Text:
Personal Matters
Leia woke to banging.
This was not unusual.
Not since she had become an unwilling long-term passenger aboard the limping starship rather optimistically named the Millennium Falcon.
She swung her feet to the floor, dressed quickly, and twisted her hair into a loose bun.
The banging continued.
So did the Corellian profanity.
Leia followed both into the outer corridor, where she found Han stretched along the deck with one arm buried shoulder-deep inside an open access panel.
“Trouble?”
“You could say that.”
He didn’t look at her.
Leia leaned against the bulkhead.
“Anything I should know about?”
“You could say that too.”
That got her attention.
Han was in a mood.
She had learned, during their extended and increasingly cramped voyage, that Han Solo possessed considerably more moods than she had once believed possible.
Some were loud.
Some were sarcastic.
Some involved tools.
This appeared to be all three.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Blow it back, Chewie!”
A roar answered from somewhere deeper in the ship.
Leia crossed her arms.
“Because if you’re going to behave like this all morning, I can simply stay out of your way.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Leia stared at him.
“Okay! Stop!”
The sound inside the bulkhead changed.
Han reached farther into the opening and muttered something unprintable.
“If there’s something wrong with the ship,” Leia said, “I think I should know.”
“Nothin’s wrong with the ship.”
“You are lying on the floor with your arm inside it.”
“Unscheduled maintenance.”
Leia raised an eyebrow.
“Do you ever perform scheduled maintenance?”
Han stopped moving.
Slowly, he looked at her.
“Now really isn’t the time.”
He pulled his arm free, stood, and headed down the corridor.
“Going aft, Chewie! Send it that way!”
Leia followed him.
“Han.”
Nothing.
“Han, I don’t understand why you won’t simply tell me what’s happening.”
He opened another panel.
“And if I didn’t know better, I’d think I had done something to upset you.”
Han froze.
Leia nearly walked into him.
He looked over his shoulder.
“Hold it there, Chewie!”
A questioning bark echoed back.
Han lowered his voice.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You’ve barely looked at me since I came out here.”
“I’m busy.”
“So you are upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
Han stared at her for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
“Fine.”
He crouched beside the open panel again.
“Me and Chewie have been chasing this thing all morning. Never seen anything like it.”
Leia frowned.
“What thing?”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”
He reached deep into the wall.
Leia watched.
This section of the ship was nowhere near any system she recognized.
Not that she recognized many of them.
Han shifted his shoulder.
“Think I got it.”
He raised his voice.
“Chewie! Button it up and give me pressure!”
A distant roar answered.
Han’s arm moved.
Then stopped.
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
Not pleasantly.
“Got it.”
Leia stepped closer.
“What is it?”
Han slowly pulled his hand from the access panel.
Something came with it.
Wet.
Dark.
Stringy.
Leia stared.
Han held it between two fingers.
A long, revolting clump of auburn hair.
Her stomach dropped.
“Hair.”
Leia felt heat rush immediately into her face.
“Oh.”
Han stood.
The clump dangled accusingly between them.
“I don’t suppose you can do anything with this, Your Long-hairedness?”
Leia looked at it.
Then at him.
“Reattach it, maybe?”
“Han.”
“Make a scarf?”
“Han.”
“Could probably knit a life-sized Wookiee if you keep this up.”
Leia folded her arms.
Very carefully.
“My father had special drain covers installed at the palace.”
Han stared at her. “Special drain covers.”
“For this exact problem.”
He nodded slowly, with exaggerated seriousness. “Well. Glad we’ve finally identified the design flaw.”
Leia’s eyes narrowed. “I said I’m sorry.”
“You did not.”
She hesitated.
Then, much more quietly:
“Sorry.”
Han’s expression softened immediately.
That somehow made it worse.
Before he could answer, Chewbacca lumbered around the corner.
He took one look at Han’s hand.
Then at Leia.
The roar that followed needed very little translation.
Leia was still learning Shyriiwook, but she caught enough.
Something about breakfast.
Something about shedding.
And something very definitely about the practical advantages of short fur.
Her hand flew protectively to her hair.
Han burst out laughing.
Leia glared at both of them.
Chewie barked again and continued toward the galley.
“She says she’ll take that under advisement,” Han called after him.
Leia turned on him. “I most certainly did not.”
Han tossed the offending clump into a waste receptacle and wiped his hands.
“C’mon.” He nodded toward the galley. “I figure a big breakfast’ll smooth things over.”
“For whom?”
“Chewie.”
Leia stared after the Wookiee.
“I certainly hope so.”
She followed Han down the corridor, one hand still unconsciously touching her hair.
For the rest of the morning, every time Chewbacca looked at her, Leia was fairly certain he was imagining her bald.