MIXED UP ⌲ HAN AND LEIA

eight; until next time

— SHORTLY AFTER THE BATTLE OF YAVIN —

Han was really getting on the Princess's nerves.

The celebrations after the destruction of the Death Star had been extravagant—and Leia hadn't seen Luke in a while (she presumed that he was getting congratulated elsewhere). But, on the other hand, Han would not leave her alone.

He was half-drunk on Corellian ale—or was acting like it, at least. It nearly seemed like the scoundrel was always drunk, though, so it was terribly hard to tell. Nevertheless, he would not shut up.

"Come on, sweetheart, you know you need me....."

Leia sighed. "What are you talking about now? I thought you were planning on leaving after this whole extravaganza."

Han put his hands on his hips and smirked. "Maybe I changed my mind."

He inched closer to her, causing her to take a few steps back. "Solo, I don't know what's wrong with you, but–"

"Your hair looks lovely, Leia." he murmured, his eyes suddenly locked with hers. She could nearly smell the strong alcohol on him, but in that moment, it didn't matter.

"P-please don't call me that–"

"And you look beautiful in that dress."

Leia was suddenly aware of how the wine-colored gown hugged the top-half of her body tightly and flowed down to the ground smoothly, trailing behind her. Oh—and it happened to have an open-back. She'd forgotten about that.

Then she realized all at once the adjective Han had used. He called her beautiful. And—once she processed that—her heart felt....odd. It was a feeling she had never come across before; not even with the few men she had thought she loved on Alderaan. So, naturally, the feeling terrified the hell out of her.

And, in the worst possible moment, she was utterly lost for words.

"U-uh....um....well...." Her face turned red.

Han chuckled. "Look, I know you think I'm drunk—which, maybe I am—but those words are coming from the real me. You really do look stunning. And you can quote me on that when I wake up in hell tomorrow,"

Leia tried to gain some composure, but was still noticeably shaken. "Uh, thank you? Han, I...."

He suddenly took her hand. "Dance with me?"

Before she could even fathom that he, quite in fact, took her hand, he was already pulling her to the center of the large ballroom.

The music was slow. Han immediately pulled her close, wrapping his free arm around her waist.

Leia didn't protest this peculiar intimacy; for some reason, it just felt....okay. Although she did feel like she was going to faint. Thankfully, though, Han kept her steady as they swayed back and forth, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other still intwined with his.

She willed herself to look him in the eyes. His were hazel—filled with intensity and playfulness and even a hint of regret from long ago. She had never really asked him many questions about his life. She didn't even know if he had a girlfriend (which, in the back of her mind, she really hoped he didn't).

"Why—why me?" Leia asked suddenly, her voice small and quiet.

Han smirked. "Well, it's not like I have anyone else to dance with, sweetheart...."

"That's not what I mean."

A mischievous smile appeared on Han's lips. "You might drive me insane, Princess—but you really are a remarkable woman. It just takes some of my undeniable charm to see the other side."

Leia frowned. "The other side?"

"Exactly,"

He pulled her even closer, sending shivers down her spine (and, unbeknownst to her, his as well). She was surprised at how marvelous the Corellian was at dancing. A confident aura seemed to surround him; one that made Leia feel oddly comfortable.

And then—much to her dismay—the music that had kept them so close stopped.

Han took a step back and kissed her hand softly. "Until next time, Leia Organa."

Before she could respond, he turned around and walked away, almost instantly unseeable once he walked through the mass crowds of people.

Leia stood frozen. A thousand thoughts drifted through her mind—but there was one sentence in particular that outweighed all the others.

Until next time.

Han might've been drunk—and Leia was terribly conflicted. But that little, warm memory would never disappear from either of them.