MIXED UP ⌲ HAN AND LEIA

ten; short

Sorry; this part is kind of messy. I, once again, had a random burst of inspiration at a terrible time. *sighs*

— MILLENNIUM FALCON —

Sometimes, Han and Leia would simply wander the halls and corridors of the Millennium Falcon together; they never really had a set reason to, but it was a place where they could talk and kiss and do whatever the hell they wanted without any distractions. There was a sense of calm inside the old ship—belonging, perhaps. And it was extra special to the two of them because of all the things that had happened aboard the Falcon—each moment some sort of exciting, terrifying, or hilarious memory in its own right. Those were the things they had done as one.

Today was no exception. They had meandered to a particularly small room, with Han's arms wrapped around her tightly and hers wrapped around him. Leia's back was gently pressed up against the wall.

Usually, being in a space so small would've made her feel claustrophobic—but being tangled in Han's embrace made her feel more secure than anything.

A few years before, she would've laughed if someone had told her that she would love Han Solo like she did. He revealed himself slowly; little pieces and bits at a time. But once he had shown her the deepest parts of his mind—some of which were exclusive to certain moments they spent together—her heart had truly, deeply melted.

The princess and the scoundrel were so similar, yet so vastly different. She was royalty; a feisty, small woman with a sharp tongue but an altruistic heart. He was an oddly suave man; tall and quick-witted, with a short temper but a charming, smooth sense of humor. She was the epitome of beauty—while he was undeniably and ruggedly good-looking.

They certainly were an odd duo—but they made it work.

"I love you," Leia whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Han chuckled softly. "Trust me, I know. But not as much as I love you, Princess."

She looked up at him with soft eyes, her chin still pressed up against him. "I beg to differ. I–" she abruptly paused, noticing how Han was obviously (and lamely) trying to hold back a laugh. "What?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin smile. "Nothing,"

Leia's lips curved into a smirk. "You're making fun of me."

"What? No, I'm not...."

She twisted the end of his shirt collar with her right hand, bringing his face down so it was inches from hers. "Don't even try. You're definitely making fun of me. You, Han Solo, are making fun of me because I'm short."

Leia knew that he found it absolutely hilarious—how, when they hugged, her face barely made it to his chest. It wasn't as though she was angry at him, of course. But any excuse to grab the scoundrel by his shirt in a small room was undeniably entertaining.

Han wickedly grinned, gently pushing himself closer to the princess so his hands were on the wall against their entangled bodies. "And why would I do that, sweetheart?"

She wrapped her other arm around his neck. "That's a good question."

Her lips met his.

Leia was amazed by how—whenever they kissed—Han seemed to melt. He sighed softly, pushing further against her while her hands got entangled in his hair. However, his relaxed state didn't change the intensity of the way he kissed her, tracing the bottom of her lip with his tongue and tasting tentatively with warm, soft lips.

He was an expert in the matter—and they both knew it.

Han's arms enveloped her waist, slowly lifting her up with no effort until she wrapped her legs around him. He pulled away slowly, his lips traveling to her ear.

"You're trembling," he whispered with a smirk, before placing soft kisses along her jawline. Leia, inevitably, couldn't find the strength to respond; so she decided to pull his lips to hers again, one hand traveling under his shirt and up his back–

And then they heard a voice.

"Han? Leia? Where are you?" Luke shouted, his tone tense.

Han abruptly broke away from her, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide. It took him a second to process what was going on—and, when he did, they both scrambled to untangle themselves.

Luke appeared in front of them almost instantly afterward.

"There you are. I need your help with something, I—wait, what are you doing?"

Han's hair was ruffled and Leia's face was beet-red. They stood away from each other awkwardly, trying to look casual but appearing to be just the opposite.

The color drained from Luke's face as he realized the possibilities of what a princess and a scoundrel could be doing in a small, secluded room. "Uh, maybe I should just leave–"

"No! It's—it's not what it looks like...." Han interrupted semi-casually, taking a few steps closer to the Jedi. "The Princess was simply angry at me, that's all...."

Luke frowned, unconvinced. "For what?"

Han smirked. "She thinks—though I disagree—that I'm making fun of her for being short."

Leia—who was too shocked to say anything before—laughed louder than she had in her entire life.