a galaxy far, far away . . . .

[straightouttacarbonite]

HERE IS A PLACE FOR PLAYING STUFF AS NEEDED

There is a reasonable chance of it being NSFW and junk. <3

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Return of the Slow Boat to Bespin

[straightouttacarbonite]

The galaxy never seems so wide as when you're stuck with a busted hyperdrive, but after their tentative, long-awaited encounter in the cockpit, Han finds he's not terribly bothered by crawling along toward Bespin. It's selfish, he knows, but it's not like he can do anything to speed the journey up; they might as well enjoy themselves. Take their time, since they've got time whether they want it or not.

Eager as he is, Han doesn't press the issue immediately. Eventually they laughed and shrugged their shirts back on and she kissed him again, sweetly, and left about halfway through his shift. Frankly, he was surprised she'd been willing to go that far, when before then it had always been heated looks followed by cold shoulders, when she'd run away right after letting him kiss her. He can't be in a hurry, not after that. He'd let her go and spent the rest of his shift grinning stupidly at the stars. No complaints.

Now, he's let her sit a while with the memory of his mouth on her, and judging from the looks they exchange as they go about their business, she's not regretting it. So he plans ahead, a little. He manages to talk Chewie into taking a long shift just in case (this involves a fair amount of good-natured growling about the princess' poor life choices) and to keep Threepio out of the way, and he finds one last bottle of wine hidden away in the hold, and goes to knock on the door of the crew quarters.

Hell, if she's sleeping, he's gonna feel really silly.

[imahologram]

The party after the destruction of the second Death Star is pretty impressive, considering that it's been planned and put on by a group of war-mongering Ewoks. Once Luke joins Han and Leia, trying to find a smile despite Darth Vader's death, the three of them are feted like nobody present tried to cook and eat two of them this week. They're fed until Leia's sure she won't be able to move if she takes another bite (which, she thinks wryly, wouldn't be a bad way to lull them into a false sense of security if the plans to make dinner out of them were still on). After the food, there's dancing and singing, and though "Yub Nub" leaves something to be desired, it's a fun night.

The Ewoks are getting into something like ghost stories when Luke excuses himself, his expression growing a little more sorrowful once more. He's going to Vader's pyre again, she realizes, and the thought of the man who was--technically speaking--their father gives her pause.

She glances over at Han in the firelight, his blue eyes bright as he takes a fourth cup of wine and clinks it against the wooden cup of the Ewok serving him. It's not right to leave him in the dark about this. She loves him, too much to lie to him even by omission about the man who tortured him and had him frozen in carbonite for half a year.

"Han," she murmurs, taking hold of his free hand. Gently, she pulls him toward the edge of the forest, where the shadows grow longer and the music threatens to be overtaken by the soft drone of insects and the whisper of a breeze. "I need to talk to you."