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Leia had to stop herself from swearing aloud when she saw the room. Room was a generous description. There were four walls and a door, sure, and a tiny attached ‘fresher, but the double bed took up nearly every centim of floor space with just enough space on either side of it for someone to slide past. And that someone would need to be awfully slender to slide comfortably.
Just a bed. One bed.
Kriff.
“Think this one may be the smallest yet,” Han said as he pulled out the bug scanners and handed her one.
Leia busied herself scanning her half of the room for recording devices while she attempted to come up with a plan. It was just her and Han in the room for the night; Chewie was waiting on the Falcon so it would be ready to fly as soon as they returned — hopefully with an agreement from a local militia to join the Alliance’s efforts in hand. Han and Han alone would be in that bed alongside her for whatever number of hours she was able to sleep that night.
They’d shared sleeping space before — on ships, in tents, and even in rented rooms only slightly larger than the one they stood in. The first couple of times, there had been some level of awkwardness the way there always was when forced into close proximity with an acquaintance, but it had quickly passed the same as it had with everyone else Leia had gone on repeated missions with.
Over time, their comfort with one another grew. They had developed a rapport, a reputation amongst Alliance leadership for working well together. They were sent on mission after mission as de facto partners while others were rotated in and out of assignments until they became one another’s few constants in their overlapping, tumultuous lives.
It was only recently that that old awkwardness had roused itself again in Leia, bringing with it a nervous fluttering in her belly and beneath her ribs that she didn’t recall being present when they’d been near-strangers. Four months before, she’d have collapsed on any surface next to him without a second thought, more relieved to be able to rest for a few hours in safety than she was about the particulars of their sleeping arrangements.
Now, though…Now, the very idea felt complicated.
She wasn’t even sure how or when things had changed, exactly. One moment, her time spent with Han on missions or on base had been equal to or even less than time spent with Luke or Shara or General Rieekan; the next, he was the being she saw most consistently throughout the day. She had eaten the majority of her meals in the mess hall with the Rogues, Han, and Chewie, and anyone else who wanted to join for the better part of three years, but on more than a handful of occasions recently, Leia had glanced up from chatting with Han only to realize they were the only two still sitting at the table. She had always gone to Han when she needed to communicate about a mission or a change on base, but for the past few months, she’d caught herself attempting to come up with reasons to stop by the Falcon or to strike up a conversation with him.
She had finally come to terms with the fact that she might have developed a bit of a — for lack of a less-childish term — crush on the rough-and-tumble pilot a couple of months prior, but she’d had other crushes over the years, and they’d all passed without anyone being the wiser. She initially hadn’t expected this one to be any different, but when her affection for Han stubbornly held fast week after week, she’d been forced to reconsider the entire situation. During their last mission together, she’d been hit with the sudden realization that he might feel something other than friendship for her as well — something he’d said or a look he’d given her or a casual, unquestioned invasion of personal space had made it painfully obvious, and every interaction that followed had only convinced her further.
And now, she needed to share a bed with the man without making a whole thing of it.
“This side’s clear,” Han said, shoving his scanner back into his bag.
Leia glanced over the display on her own scanner one last time. “So’s mine,” she said, switching off the device and handing it back to him.
“We’re meeting with ‘em first thing in the mornin’?” he asked, perching carefully on the edge of the bed.
Leia nodded, sitting on the corner of the mattress that placed her a respectable distance from Han and kept him out of her direct line of sight. “Oh-six-hundred,” she said, glancing at her chrono.
Seven hours.
The room somehow felt even smaller than it had when they’d first entered. Leia noted that their packs took up the bulk of the floor space at the foot of the bed—a tripping hazard at best—and began to wonder about the size of the ‘fresher. She was petite; surely she could find some nook to cram herself into for most of the night—though, doing so without eliciting questions from Han was unlikely.
“Good thing we sprang for the deluxe suite, then,” Han added, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Got plenty of room to spread out and rest up.”
Leia rolled her eyes at the lame joke, but didn’t respond, still intent on finding a spot to sleep that wasn’t the bed. She rose and traveled the two-and-a-half steps it took to reach the ‘fresher and peered inside, an involuntary groan escaping before she had a chance to stop it.
She’d been hoping for a tub or a couple of meters of floor space, but was greeted by a room that might’ve been a converted closet. There wasn’t a tub at all; just the narrowest shower she’d ever seen on the far end, a sink near the door, and a sani crammed in between, almost as an afterthought.
“What’s wrong?” Han asked from directly behind her.
Leia flinched, startled by his sudden closeness. Every part of her body tensed involuntarily and she felt her heart speed up. She inhaled softly, taking a moment to calm her breathing before glancing back at him.
He brushed his fingers against her shoulder before dropping his hand to his side, a touch so gentle and quick, Leia questioned if she’d imagined it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“You didn’t. I mean—I just—It’s fine.” She turned back to the cramped ‘fresher, muscles relaxing, though her heart maintained its quick rhythm. “I was hoping there would at least be a tub where we could stash our packs so they’d be out of the way, but I think the Falcon’s ‘fresher might be bigger than this one.”
Han huffed softly. “Definitely is.” He walked back to the bed, stepping between their packs as he went. “You worried about us both sleepin’ tonight?”
Leia pressed her lips together firmly, wondering if she was really so easy to read. She took second to neutralize her expression before turning to face him, brow raised in question.
He shrugged. “You seem a little jumpy. Figured I could keep watch if you’re worried.”
She relaxed slightly, though her heart felt like it might burst beneath her ribs. “Oh. No, I’m not…” She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her thought truthfully. She started over, her tone light and even. “I don’t think we’re in any real danger, at least not right now. No one even knows we’re here. And we both need rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
They were going to spend the next morning hiking into a nearby mountain range to meet with the militia leaders. They had secured a guide, but the camp was apparently well-hidden; they had been warned that they would likely be on their feet from sunrise until well after sunset. They both definitely needed sleep.
Han hummed quietly in acknowledgment. A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, irritation barely covering the wounded hitch in his voice. “Have any plans to tell me what the hell I did this time, or should I start guessing?”
Leia bristled and narrowed her eyes, more frustrated by her apparent inability to act naturally than she was with Han himself. “Not everything is about you, you know,” she snapped.
But this is.
“‘Course not. But, most of the time, when you’re actin’ all aloof, it means I did somethin’ to piss you off. Usually, I at least know what I did, though.”
She scoffed and clenched her fist, fingernails pressing into her palm. “Aloof?”
“Yeah,” Han confirmed, mouth set in a straight, hard line. “Dodging questions, too.”
Unable to formulate an acceptable response in the moment, Leia stooped to retrieve her toiletries and sleep clothes from her pack. “We need rest,” she said flatly and slipped into the ‘fresher, shutting the door behind her.
She stared at her reflection in the narrow mirror above the sink as she brushed her teeth and unpinned her braids, attempting to will herself into just behaving normally. Han hadn’t done anything wrong, and acting as if he had was hardly fair.
Get it together, Organa.
She splashed cool water on her face, and took her time changing into the tank top and shorts she usually slept in, attempting to come up with an explanation for her terseness that wouldn’t lead to further inquiry. Several minutes passed without a viable option presenting itself. Leia closed her eyes, every muscle tensing again.
Kriff.
She could always tell him. That would be the responsible thing to do, to lay it all out so there wouldn’t be an awkward pall hanging over the entire mission. They were both adults. They could surely handle something as silly as a crush.
If only it was a crush.
She couldn’t tell him. Han had feelings for her, of that she was certain, and they struck her as very real feelings, not some short-lived infatuation. And, even though the evidence grew stronger with every day that passed that she, too, had very real feelings for him, she knew she couldn’t engage with those feelings. She had missions to plan and a militia to help lead and…and…
He was leaving. Maybe not any time soon — he hadn’t mentioned it in a while — but eventually, he’d have to leave to pay off Jabba, and where would that leave her?
She hadn’t broken when she’d lost Alderaan, when she’d lost her parents and friends and everything else that went along with the death of an entire planet, though she had felt a hollowness for months afterward that had never lifted entirely. She hadn’t broken with any subsequent loss, either, and there had been a fair few. But the effects of the losses had begun to compound with each fresh one, and she was certain that the right sort of loss at the right time had a fair chance of leaving her a shell of what little self she’d managed to reconstruct over the past few years.
The Alliance couldn’t afford for her to risk it.
She couldn’t afford to risk it.
Leia returned to the room and opened her pack again, stowing her toothbrush and clothing before digging through the contents aimlessly to avoid looking at Han as he slipped by her and into the ‘fresher. She slid between the sheets on the far side of the bed, hoping that, if she faced the wall, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge Han when he entered the room again.
She had closed her eyes by the time the ‘fresher door opened, and she kept them closed as Han padded softly across the floor, as he shoved his belongings in his bag, as he turned off the light and lifted the blankets before laying down with a loud sigh.
Leia’s chest tightened and she inhaled a few halting breaths. She opened her eyes and picked up the end of one of her braids, brushing her thumb over the split, dry ends of her hair.
The darkness, the quiet of the room made her feel a bit braver — at least brave enough to say something. Leia bit her lip and swallowed.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered.
“Damn right I didn’t,” Han groused. His next words were gentler, kinder. “You wanna talk about it?”
Leia felt herself nod before she could stop herself, but quickly stilled her head. Her heart thumped so intensely against her ribs, she had to imagine Han could hear it.
After a long moment of quiet, he cleared his throat softly. “Leia? What’s goin’ on?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment, steeling herself to face him before flipping to her other side. Enough light from the city filtered in through the drapes that she could easily see Han gazing at her, brow furrowed, frustration tinged with hurt evident in his expression.
She reached toward him instinctively, but stopped herself before she could make contact. “I’m sorry,” she said, withdrawing. “You didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way.”
He caught her hand before she could fully retreat, his thumb tracing the contour of her wrist so tenderly, Leia felt as if her chest might crack right down the middle.
Han looked at her, concern in his eyes. “Hey,” he said, thumb still brushing against her skin. “What’s goin’ on?”
She met his gaze, the words on the tip of her tongue.
I think I might have feelings for you.
But…she couldn’t—they couldn’t—
They needed to focus on the mission, the reason they were there in the first place.
Leia forced a small smile, her mind shrieking to yank her hand from Han’s grasp. She resisted the impulse, allowing herself the small indulgence of his touch—a sort of balm for denying them both anything more.
“I think I—” She broke off, started over. “I think I’m just tired,” she said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was utterly exhausted every moment of every day; she had been for nearly three years. “We should get some rest.”
Han nodded and loosened his fingers on her wrist without removing them completely, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When she didn’t, he picked right back up where he’d left off, fingers straying farther up her arm as his sweet, soft gaze settled on her face.
Leia closed her eyes, wishing she could offer him more.