STAR WARS FIC: "Simple Tricks and Nonsense," Han/Luke/Leia, R
This was pretty much inevitable. Also I got more of a kick out of using the Troy icon than I should have.
Title: Simple Tricks and Nonsense
Fandom: Star Wars: A New Hope
Word Count: 3028
Rating: R
Characters: Han/Leia/Luke
Warning(s): (highlight to reveal) Well, incest, obviously. Inadvertent incest. I'm not sure if that defense holds up in court or not.
Notes: Thanks to custardpringle for beta-ing.
Summary: The experimental protocol droid in the barroom on Yavin IV was the start of all of Princess Leia's problems. In a way.
Simple Tricks and Nonsense
The debris of the Death Star hadn't even reached the upper atmosphere of Yavin IV and Leia was halfway in the bottle, and who had more of a right to it? She'd been living on tension and secondhand gossip for weeks now, and on scraps of badly reconstituted prison food for the past few days. She had been kidnapped, tortured, shot at, and almost crushed, first by a trash compactor in the Death Star and then by the embrace of a jubilant Wookiee just a few hours ago. Her home and family were gone and dead, now as immaterial as the Death Star itself.
That was the biggest thing she was drinking to forget about. In a way she had expected to die for a long time, ever since getting involved in the Rebellion, and her father had to have felt the same way, but devastation and destruction on the scale of what had happened to Alderaan were unknowable and unthinkable, so she was doing her best to not think about it and to drink enough to un-know it. She was sitting with Skywalker and Solo in the barroom on the central metropolis of Yavin IV. Skywalker and Solo were entertaining, at least, if not illuminating or especially high-minded.
Han was getting the kid wasted for the first time, for one thing. Leia didn't know why she thought of Luke as a kid when he probably was her age at the very most. But he certainly held his liquor like a nine year-old.
"Kid," said Han, "try this one. It's a Lucky Seven Slam Dunk of Saturnalius VII."
Leia could almost see Luke's pupils try and focus on the drink Han had just taken from the droid tending bar. "What's that?"
"It's just a fancy way of saying it gets you plastered, kid," said Han, slapping Luke on the back. "See, thing about bartending droids is that, unlike most droids, they got about, oh, six things they have to remember. Don't add too much lemon, hold the ice, stir, don't drown it, none of it's that hard."
"I resent that, sir," said the droid in a high-pitched, offended tone of voice.
Han ignored her. He was apparently quite florid after drinking all the Lucky Seven Slam Dunks of Saturnalius VII. "So the droids just make the same twenty or so drinks, but give them about one thousand different names. Looks good, saves on programming costs."
"Wow," said Luke, grabbing the glass. "To your health." He drank.
"Back atcha, kid." Han was about to drink too, but he caught Leia's eye mid-sip. "Your worshipfulness."
She rolled her eyes but drank along with them anyway.
While they were toasting each other's good health and continued ability to keep themselves from being killed by the Empire, the bartending droid took the moment to reassert herself. "Just to clarify, sir," she said, "in fact I am capable of concocting and serving a compendium of over five thousand drinks, and while some of them do bear a great resemblance to each other, each has their own unique flavor and method of concoction."
"Look, you can shut it," said Han. "I already paid for the drinks, didn't I?"
"In addition," the droid went on, unperturbed, "I am also a fully functional protocol and situational analysis droid."
"Situational analysis?" asked Luke. "That's so neat!"
"Thank you, sir," said the droid. "That is very gratifying to hear."
"Situational analysis?" asked Han. "What does that even mean?"
"I can analyze the biometric matrices of our patrons to judge both their blood alcohol content and their adrenaline and endorphin levels. In this way I can observe the probability of our patrons causing a disturbance of either a violent or sexual nature."
"What about disturbances of a violent and sexual nature?" asked Leia.
"That is well within my purview, ma'am," said the droid. Leia rolled her eyes and ordered another drink.
"That's nuts," said Han. "How can you tell if someone's about to...shit, you can't predict something like that!"
"Hey, yeah!" said Luke.
"It is simply a matter of probability, sir," insisted the droid. "For instance, the two patrons over there--" the droid pointed to two pilots sitting in a corner booth-- "have been consuming alcohol and arguing for the past two hours. In approximately 30 seconds one or both of them will start an altercation they will be too drunk to finish and will either pass out harmlessly or end up weeping in each other's arms, at which point one of my counterparts will escort them to their rooms in the lodging complex upstairs."
Han shook his head. "I tell ya, this planet's too rich for my blood."
"Nothing's too rich for you now," Luke told him. "You are rich now, just like I said you'd be, remember?" Leia rolled her eyes again and Han smiled at Luke, but before either could say anything there was a cry from across the room. One of the pilots the droid had pointed out earlier suddenly lunged at his companion. The other pilot easily dodged his friend's fist. The first man fell to the floor and was fast asleep before he even hit the ground. His friend watched him in disbelief for a second, then mutely followed the small, squat droid on wheels who had emerged from beneath the bar. Together, the droid and the man dragged the other pilot out of the room towards the rooms on the top floor.
"That was amazing!" said Luke.
"I aim to serve, sir," said the droid humbly.
"You know what our droids back home can do? They can analyze falling groundwater levels and that's about it. Lucky if they can do that, to be honest. I mean, we have weather droids who think it's always going to rain the next week. We live in the desert." Luke shook his head. "Definitely won't miss those guys. Could you predict something about us?"
Han groaned and Leia said, "Oh, Luke, please don't," but it was too late. The droid made a whirring noise and then said:
"Analysis shows: 40 percent chance of Skywalker imbibing enough alcohol to induce vomiting. 30 percent chance of Skywalker and Solo engaging in fisticuffs or impromptu lightsaber/extra-long drink straw battle--"
"That's what I'm talking about," said Han, leaning back. "Notice how she doesn't say who wins."
"--25 percent chance of Organa breaking down sobbing and demolishing a bottle of spirits over Solo's head--"
"Ha! I'd like to see you try, your worship."
"--And overall an 85 percent chance of all three parties copulating with each other tonight in some location outside the barroom area."
No one said anything. Luke's mouth dropped open, Leia felt a jolt of alarm penetrate the boozy daze in her mind, and even Han, who was in a careless, nonchalant sort of pose that she imagined he practiced a lot, raised his eyebrows.
"Does anyone else want to stop talking to the creepy sex droid now?" Leia asked finally.
There was another pause. Finally, Han took out a few credits and ordered a bottle from the droid. He said, with evident pain in his voice, "So, kid, tell me some more about moisture farming."
~
After that they went up to the suite Luke had been given because Han's room was occupied by a sleeping Chewbacca ("He snores.") and Leia's was the traditional Alderaan royalty suite and so was filled with her father's belongings. The three of them could not stop talking to each other. Luke seemed fascinated, Han his annoying, quarrelsome self, and she had a strong urge to be alone, but at the same time was unable to give either of them the boot, despite herself. Probably because of the Alderaan royal suite that she would have to sleep in otherwise.
Her sullen antagonism must have been obvious because even Luke said something about it. "Look, Leia," he said, peering at her earnestly the best he could. "I love you. I know I just met you, but I feel a, a connection to you." It sounded like a bad line, but Luke was not the type to have lines. Other people had lines; people on Tatooine had moisture farms. You could have one or the other, not both.
"Really," said Leia, honestly a bit intrigued. She couldn't say she felt the same way about Luke. She liked him, felt like he would be good luck to her and the rest of the Rebellion, but she couldn't understand the pull of destiny. What meaning did destiny have when planets could be destroyed in the blink of an eye?
One nice thing about Luke and Han was that, unlike everyone else, they didn't tiptoe around her like she was full of rage and sadness and about to explode. She was sad and angry and about to explode; the droid's complicated personality algorithm had even told her so, hadn't it? But she had a right to be that way, and Luke and Han either didn't mind or didn't quite notice enough to care. That was nice, in its own way.
"It's like...Han's gonna tell you I'm loopy--"
"You are loopy, kid."
"--but it's like I feel the Force drawing me to you. To both of you." Luke paused. "Um."
"Shit, kid. That's seriously the hokiest way I ever seen of saying you've never been laid before."
Luke's face turned even redder. "I knew you wouldn't understand."
"I don't," said Han, reaching for the bottle they'd brought with them. "I really don't."
"Don't worry about it," Leia told Luke. "He's trying to get both of us in the sack."
"Don't flatter yourself, princess," said Han. "I got enough problems."
"Good point," said Leia. "I'd hate to catch Lotvaakian genital warts or something from you--"
"Oh, shut up," said Han. "If you're gonna insult me at least grow a pair and do it by breaking the bottle on my head like the droid said."
"That would be a waste of perfectly good alcohol," she said.
"No fighting," said Luke, and Leia felt a little bad because he looked ashen now and really worried. "Ugh, I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"Drink more," said Han. "It'll help."
"You're sadistic," said Leia, getting up to go into the washroom. When she came back with a glass of water, Han was massaging Luke's temples.
"Oh, honestly," she said.
"What?" asked Han, turning to look at her. "It's good for a headache!"
"It is," said Luke with his eyes closed. "Ben told me this a good way to clear your mind and...to let the Force flow through."
"Sure, whatever," said Han. "Leia, I got a headache too. C'mere."
"Not a chance," she said, but she did put the water in front of Luke and poured out a slug from the bottle for Han and herself.
"Cheers, your worshipfulness," said Han, clinking glasses with her. "Drink your water, kid. I can't keep rubbing your head all night."
"You should," murmured Luke. "Feels nice."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi gave you a headrub?" asked Leia.
"No, he--of course not!" said Luke. "You're supposed to do it for yourself!"
"Yeah, that's what I hear about Jedi. They were big on doing it for themselves," said Han, winking.
Luke blushed. "That's--that's--" Even Leia had to laugh along with Han at the look of drunken rage on Luke's face. "Disrespectful!" said Luke finally. "You cannot speak about my dead master like that. Where's my lightsaber?"
"We hid it," said Leia. "Earlier, when you went into the washroom."
"That droid was good for something, turned out," said Han. "Good thinking, your worship."
"Thank you," she said. Diplomacy was her forte, after all.
"Hey, first time I said something and you ain't rolled your eyes at it. That's progress," said Han.
She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "Don't push it."
"I never push," said Han. Luke laughed helplessly.
"You are severely drunk," Leia told Luke. "You should go to bed."
Apparently he wasn't quite drunk enough. "Make me."
"That's it kid," said Han. "You're getting better at the seduction thing. You gotta challenge her, then she can't say no to you."
"Don't listen to him," Leia told Luke. "Let me rub your head again if you're not going to take my advice."
"Oh brother," said Luke in a way that made her cringe every time she thought of it even years afterward.
The whole evening made her cringe, really. It made her cringe even without the benefit of hindsight. She had been bitter, angry, and tripped into the bed with the two men less out of desire and more because she didn't want to go back to an empty room filled with her family and her planet's past.
She went to the oddly-shaped bed with Han and Luke laughing stupidly for no real reason. Certainly not because she was happy, or because anything was that funny. Maybe she had had a sudden burst of Force-inspired drunken insight and knew just what a joke the universe was playing on her.
Parts of that night were vivid. Most of them involved the sudden sensations of hot wetness on her thigh or on her neck, and after they turned the lights out it was hard for her to tell where and who they came from, and it got even harder for her to care. She felt the pins coming out of her coils of hair, jabbing into her skull and falling on the pillows.
"Ow," said Luke when he jammed his hand on one, by the feel of it. "Oh, holy--" He gasped and came (she assumed.)
"What's wrong?" Han whispered to her, but it was Luke who answered him.
"I never thought that would happen to me," he said. "Honestly. Never in a million years."
"Really?" asked Leia, who was uncomfortable but momentarily distracted. Luke hadn't struck her as self-defeating like that.
"Well, not never, maybe," Luke admitted. "But not for awhile, anyway."
"That's depressing," said Han, wiping his hand off on the bedspread on the floor. She supposed it was him who had gotten Luke off. She hadn't really noticed.
"That's living on Tattooine," said Luke.
Beside that conversation, most of the night was a blur that Leia tried to forget about it, so much so that years later when she found out the truth from Luke it didn't even occur to her to remember that night on Yavin IV.
(Years later she would ask Han what he remembered, and he would say, "Not much," very carefully, and that was apparently enough warning because they never brought up the subject again.)
She would always be grateful to the Empire, in a strange way, for keeping them so busy that the three never had time to discuss sexual compatibility (or the complete lack thereof), and only had time to discuss bounty hunters, Rebel spies, and the ice planet Hoth.
As for that night: it would be years before Han and Leia figured out how to share a bed without hating each other in the morning. That night, unfamiliar with each other and with a third totally drunk party with them, there was no hope at all. When Luke woke them up in the morning they glared at each other. They had even been arguing in their sleep.
"Medal ceremony," said Luke. "Don't you guys remember the medal ceremony?"
"Course I do," said Han.
"It's in 20 minutes!"
"Course I remember," repeated Han, but he didn't move and kept his face covered with his arm.
When she realized the time, Leia acted like Luke and immediately sprang up. She picked her dress up off the floor, pulled it over her head, and started to pick up her hairpins from where they had scattered on the bed.
"You better hurry, Han," called Luke from the wash room.
"Sheesh, kid, you said I'm rich, what do I need a medal--ow!" he cried out as Leia's fingers dug into his side. "What did you do that for?"
"You were laying on one of my pins," she told him.
"Well maybe if you didn't shed them like a Wookiee sheds hair--ouch! Sheesh, I'm getting up."
"I really thought after last night you'd stop calling me kid," said Luke observationally as he pulled a shirt over his head and watched Han gather his clothes.
"Kid, after last night we're never going to speak of last night again, all right?" he turned to Luke and pointedly did not look at Leia, which she was grateful for. "Nothing personal."
"Oh."
"Just one of those things. See you down there."
20 minutes later she was putting a medal around Han's neck and wishing she could throttle him with it because she was angry with him for divining so precisely just what her wish was after last night. He winked at her because they were in on it together. She didn't react and was grateful for the pomp and circumstance that, the generals had assured her, was necessary for the Rebellion's morale. Certainly it was necessary for hers, at the moment.
She never found out how Han knew the right way to react to the situation, since they never did talk about, none of them. She supposed it was possible that Han was more Force-adept than he ever gave himself credit for. Or more tactful than she ever gave him credit for. Both options were pretty unlikely, to be honest.
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Title: Simple Tricks and Nonsense
Fandom: Star Wars: A New Hope
Word Count: 3028
Rating: R
Characters: Han/Leia/Luke
Warning(s): (highlight to reveal) Well, incest, obviously. Inadvertent incest. I'm not sure if that defense holds up in court or not.
Notes: Thanks to custardpringle for beta-ing.
Summary: The experimental protocol droid in the barroom on Yavin IV was the start of all of Princess Leia's problems. In a way.
Simple Tricks and Nonsense
The debris of the Death Star hadn't even reached the upper atmosphere of Yavin IV and Leia was halfway in the bottle, and who had more of a right to it? She'd been living on tension and secondhand gossip for weeks now, and on scraps of badly reconstituted prison food for the past few days. She had been kidnapped, tortured, shot at, and almost crushed, first by a trash compactor in the Death Star and then by the embrace of a jubilant Wookiee just a few hours ago. Her home and family were gone and dead, now as immaterial as the Death Star itself.
That was the biggest thing she was drinking to forget about. In a way she had expected to die for a long time, ever since getting involved in the Rebellion, and her father had to have felt the same way, but devastation and destruction on the scale of what had happened to Alderaan were unknowable and unthinkable, so she was doing her best to not think about it and to drink enough to un-know it. She was sitting with Skywalker and Solo in the barroom on the central metropolis of Yavin IV. Skywalker and Solo were entertaining, at least, if not illuminating or especially high-minded.
Han was getting the kid wasted for the first time, for one thing. Leia didn't know why she thought of Luke as a kid when he probably was her age at the very most. But he certainly held his liquor like a nine year-old.
"Kid," said Han, "try this one. It's a Lucky Seven Slam Dunk of Saturnalius VII."
Leia could almost see Luke's pupils try and focus on the drink Han had just taken from the droid tending bar. "What's that?"
"It's just a fancy way of saying it gets you plastered, kid," said Han, slapping Luke on the back. "See, thing about bartending droids is that, unlike most droids, they got about, oh, six things they have to remember. Don't add too much lemon, hold the ice, stir, don't drown it, none of it's that hard."
"I resent that, sir," said the droid in a high-pitched, offended tone of voice.
Han ignored her. He was apparently quite florid after drinking all the Lucky Seven Slam Dunks of Saturnalius VII. "So the droids just make the same twenty or so drinks, but give them about one thousand different names. Looks good, saves on programming costs."
"Wow," said Luke, grabbing the glass. "To your health." He drank.
"Back atcha, kid." Han was about to drink too, but he caught Leia's eye mid-sip. "Your worshipfulness."
She rolled her eyes but drank along with them anyway.
While they were toasting each other's good health and continued ability to keep themselves from being killed by the Empire, the bartending droid took the moment to reassert herself. "Just to clarify, sir," she said, "in fact I am capable of concocting and serving a compendium of over five thousand drinks, and while some of them do bear a great resemblance to each other, each has their own unique flavor and method of concoction."
"Look, you can shut it," said Han. "I already paid for the drinks, didn't I?"
"In addition," the droid went on, unperturbed, "I am also a fully functional protocol and situational analysis droid."
"Situational analysis?" asked Luke. "That's so neat!"
"Thank you, sir," said the droid. "That is very gratifying to hear."
"Situational analysis?" asked Han. "What does that even mean?"
"I can analyze the biometric matrices of our patrons to judge both their blood alcohol content and their adrenaline and endorphin levels. In this way I can observe the probability of our patrons causing a disturbance of either a violent or sexual nature."
"What about disturbances of a violent and sexual nature?" asked Leia.
"That is well within my purview, ma'am," said the droid. Leia rolled her eyes and ordered another drink.
"That's nuts," said Han. "How can you tell if someone's about to...shit, you can't predict something like that!"
"Hey, yeah!" said Luke.
"It is simply a matter of probability, sir," insisted the droid. "For instance, the two patrons over there--" the droid pointed to two pilots sitting in a corner booth-- "have been consuming alcohol and arguing for the past two hours. In approximately 30 seconds one or both of them will start an altercation they will be too drunk to finish and will either pass out harmlessly or end up weeping in each other's arms, at which point one of my counterparts will escort them to their rooms in the lodging complex upstairs."
Han shook his head. "I tell ya, this planet's too rich for my blood."
"Nothing's too rich for you now," Luke told him. "You are rich now, just like I said you'd be, remember?" Leia rolled her eyes again and Han smiled at Luke, but before either could say anything there was a cry from across the room. One of the pilots the droid had pointed out earlier suddenly lunged at his companion. The other pilot easily dodged his friend's fist. The first man fell to the floor and was fast asleep before he even hit the ground. His friend watched him in disbelief for a second, then mutely followed the small, squat droid on wheels who had emerged from beneath the bar. Together, the droid and the man dragged the other pilot out of the room towards the rooms on the top floor.
"That was amazing!" said Luke.
"I aim to serve, sir," said the droid humbly.
"You know what our droids back home can do? They can analyze falling groundwater levels and that's about it. Lucky if they can do that, to be honest. I mean, we have weather droids who think it's always going to rain the next week. We live in the desert." Luke shook his head. "Definitely won't miss those guys. Could you predict something about us?"
Han groaned and Leia said, "Oh, Luke, please don't," but it was too late. The droid made a whirring noise and then said:
"Analysis shows: 40 percent chance of Skywalker imbibing enough alcohol to induce vomiting. 30 percent chance of Skywalker and Solo engaging in fisticuffs or impromptu lightsaber/extra-long drink straw battle--"
"That's what I'm talking about," said Han, leaning back. "Notice how she doesn't say who wins."
"--25 percent chance of Organa breaking down sobbing and demolishing a bottle of spirits over Solo's head--"
"Ha! I'd like to see you try, your worship."
"--And overall an 85 percent chance of all three parties copulating with each other tonight in some location outside the barroom area."
No one said anything. Luke's mouth dropped open, Leia felt a jolt of alarm penetrate the boozy daze in her mind, and even Han, who was in a careless, nonchalant sort of pose that she imagined he practiced a lot, raised his eyebrows.
"Does anyone else want to stop talking to the creepy sex droid now?" Leia asked finally.
There was another pause. Finally, Han took out a few credits and ordered a bottle from the droid. He said, with evident pain in his voice, "So, kid, tell me some more about moisture farming."
~
After that they went up to the suite Luke had been given because Han's room was occupied by a sleeping Chewbacca ("He snores.") and Leia's was the traditional Alderaan royalty suite and so was filled with her father's belongings. The three of them could not stop talking to each other. Luke seemed fascinated, Han his annoying, quarrelsome self, and she had a strong urge to be alone, but at the same time was unable to give either of them the boot, despite herself. Probably because of the Alderaan royal suite that she would have to sleep in otherwise.
Her sullen antagonism must have been obvious because even Luke said something about it. "Look, Leia," he said, peering at her earnestly the best he could. "I love you. I know I just met you, but I feel a, a connection to you." It sounded like a bad line, but Luke was not the type to have lines. Other people had lines; people on Tatooine had moisture farms. You could have one or the other, not both.
"Really," said Leia, honestly a bit intrigued. She couldn't say she felt the same way about Luke. She liked him, felt like he would be good luck to her and the rest of the Rebellion, but she couldn't understand the pull of destiny. What meaning did destiny have when planets could be destroyed in the blink of an eye?
One nice thing about Luke and Han was that, unlike everyone else, they didn't tiptoe around her like she was full of rage and sadness and about to explode. She was sad and angry and about to explode; the droid's complicated personality algorithm had even told her so, hadn't it? But she had a right to be that way, and Luke and Han either didn't mind or didn't quite notice enough to care. That was nice, in its own way.
"It's like...Han's gonna tell you I'm loopy--"
"You are loopy, kid."
"--but it's like I feel the Force drawing me to you. To both of you." Luke paused. "Um."
"Shit, kid. That's seriously the hokiest way I ever seen of saying you've never been laid before."
Luke's face turned even redder. "I knew you wouldn't understand."
"I don't," said Han, reaching for the bottle they'd brought with them. "I really don't."
"Don't worry about it," Leia told Luke. "He's trying to get both of us in the sack."
"Don't flatter yourself, princess," said Han. "I got enough problems."
"Good point," said Leia. "I'd hate to catch Lotvaakian genital warts or something from you--"
"Oh, shut up," said Han. "If you're gonna insult me at least grow a pair and do it by breaking the bottle on my head like the droid said."
"That would be a waste of perfectly good alcohol," she said.
"No fighting," said Luke, and Leia felt a little bad because he looked ashen now and really worried. "Ugh, I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"Drink more," said Han. "It'll help."
"You're sadistic," said Leia, getting up to go into the washroom. When she came back with a glass of water, Han was massaging Luke's temples.
"Oh, honestly," she said.
"What?" asked Han, turning to look at her. "It's good for a headache!"
"It is," said Luke with his eyes closed. "Ben told me this a good way to clear your mind and...to let the Force flow through."
"Sure, whatever," said Han. "Leia, I got a headache too. C'mere."
"Not a chance," she said, but she did put the water in front of Luke and poured out a slug from the bottle for Han and herself.
"Cheers, your worshipfulness," said Han, clinking glasses with her. "Drink your water, kid. I can't keep rubbing your head all night."
"You should," murmured Luke. "Feels nice."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi gave you a headrub?" asked Leia.
"No, he--of course not!" said Luke. "You're supposed to do it for yourself!"
"Yeah, that's what I hear about Jedi. They were big on doing it for themselves," said Han, winking.
Luke blushed. "That's--that's--" Even Leia had to laugh along with Han at the look of drunken rage on Luke's face. "Disrespectful!" said Luke finally. "You cannot speak about my dead master like that. Where's my lightsaber?"
"We hid it," said Leia. "Earlier, when you went into the washroom."
"That droid was good for something, turned out," said Han. "Good thinking, your worship."
"Thank you," she said. Diplomacy was her forte, after all.
"Hey, first time I said something and you ain't rolled your eyes at it. That's progress," said Han.
She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "Don't push it."
"I never push," said Han. Luke laughed helplessly.
"You are severely drunk," Leia told Luke. "You should go to bed."
Apparently he wasn't quite drunk enough. "Make me."
"That's it kid," said Han. "You're getting better at the seduction thing. You gotta challenge her, then she can't say no to you."
"Don't listen to him," Leia told Luke. "Let me rub your head again if you're not going to take my advice."
"Oh brother," said Luke in a way that made her cringe every time she thought of it even years afterward.
The whole evening made her cringe, really. It made her cringe even without the benefit of hindsight. She had been bitter, angry, and tripped into the bed with the two men less out of desire and more because she didn't want to go back to an empty room filled with her family and her planet's past.
She went to the oddly-shaped bed with Han and Luke laughing stupidly for no real reason. Certainly not because she was happy, or because anything was that funny. Maybe she had had a sudden burst of Force-inspired drunken insight and knew just what a joke the universe was playing on her.
Parts of that night were vivid. Most of them involved the sudden sensations of hot wetness on her thigh or on her neck, and after they turned the lights out it was hard for her to tell where and who they came from, and it got even harder for her to care. She felt the pins coming out of her coils of hair, jabbing into her skull and falling on the pillows.
"Ow," said Luke when he jammed his hand on one, by the feel of it. "Oh, holy--" He gasped and came (she assumed.)
"What's wrong?" Han whispered to her, but it was Luke who answered him.
"I never thought that would happen to me," he said. "Honestly. Never in a million years."
"Really?" asked Leia, who was uncomfortable but momentarily distracted. Luke hadn't struck her as self-defeating like that.
"Well, not never, maybe," Luke admitted. "But not for awhile, anyway."
"That's depressing," said Han, wiping his hand off on the bedspread on the floor. She supposed it was him who had gotten Luke off. She hadn't really noticed.
"That's living on Tattooine," said Luke.
Beside that conversation, most of the night was a blur that Leia tried to forget about it, so much so that years later when she found out the truth from Luke it didn't even occur to her to remember that night on Yavin IV.
(Years later she would ask Han what he remembered, and he would say, "Not much," very carefully, and that was apparently enough warning because they never brought up the subject again.)
She would always be grateful to the Empire, in a strange way, for keeping them so busy that the three never had time to discuss sexual compatibility (or the complete lack thereof), and only had time to discuss bounty hunters, Rebel spies, and the ice planet Hoth.
As for that night: it would be years before Han and Leia figured out how to share a bed without hating each other in the morning. That night, unfamiliar with each other and with a third totally drunk party with them, there was no hope at all. When Luke woke them up in the morning they glared at each other. They had even been arguing in their sleep.
"Medal ceremony," said Luke. "Don't you guys remember the medal ceremony?"
"Course I do," said Han.
"It's in 20 minutes!"
"Course I remember," repeated Han, but he didn't move and kept his face covered with his arm.
When she realized the time, Leia acted like Luke and immediately sprang up. She picked her dress up off the floor, pulled it over her head, and started to pick up her hairpins from where they had scattered on the bed.
"You better hurry, Han," called Luke from the wash room.
"Sheesh, kid, you said I'm rich, what do I need a medal--ow!" he cried out as Leia's fingers dug into his side. "What did you do that for?"
"You were laying on one of my pins," she told him.
"Well maybe if you didn't shed them like a Wookiee sheds hair--ouch! Sheesh, I'm getting up."
"I really thought after last night you'd stop calling me kid," said Luke observationally as he pulled a shirt over his head and watched Han gather his clothes.
"Kid, after last night we're never going to speak of last night again, all right?" he turned to Luke and pointedly did not look at Leia, which she was grateful for. "Nothing personal."
"Oh."
"Just one of those things. See you down there."
20 minutes later she was putting a medal around Han's neck and wishing she could throttle him with it because she was angry with him for divining so precisely just what her wish was after last night. He winked at her because they were in on it together. She didn't react and was grateful for the pomp and circumstance that, the generals had assured her, was necessary for the Rebellion's morale. Certainly it was necessary for hers, at the moment.
She never found out how Han knew the right way to react to the situation, since they never did talk about, none of them. She supposed it was possible that Han was more Force-adept than he ever gave himself credit for. Or more tactful than she ever gave him credit for. Both options were pretty unlikely, to be honest.
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