Log Date:
	5/1/98

Log Cast:
	Han Solo, Leia Organa-Solo, Chewbacca

Log Intro:
	Now that he's caught up with Princess Leia and Chewbacca on Caspar,
his mission to Tatooine over, Han has half-tensely and half-relievedly
settled into far more important business: finding out exactly where Luke
is being held by the Empire, and soaking up as much of his wife's presence
as he can before they're inevitably drawn away from one another yet again
by duty and circumstance. Leia has taken the opportunity to startle her
husband mightily by broaching the idea that they might start themselves a
family... but Leia has also noticed ongoing uneasiness between her husband and
his Wookiee partner, enough uneasiness that the Wookiee has spoken with
Leia of leaving them. And as much as she loves having Han alone to herself
for once, knowing these two the way she does, the Princess resolves to take 
the matter of Han and Chewie's mutual tension into her own dainty hands....

----------
Han is a man who occupies a fair amount of bed space in his sleep, but on 
  board the _Falcon_, limited to her bunks, the sleeping Corellian is limited 
  merely to lounging in inert ease rather than sprawling out as if someone had 
  spilled him in a puddle across the locale of his slumber. Nevertheless, he's 
  managed to completely claim the bunk on which he currently sleeps, one arm 
  dropped off the side, the other curled loosely over his bare waist. A sheet 
  and a blanket are draped over the lower half of his form, slipped down to 
  reveal his scarred torso, and his head lolls slightly to the side.

Watching Han sleeping is something Leia truly enjoys and appreciates, and, 
  finding him still slumbering, she lingers in the doorway to indulge in this 
  hobby. The expression that forms on her soft-skinned visage professes 
  tremendous love for the Corellian, sheer appreciation for his physical 
  appeal, and a glimmer of intense protectiveness that remains in place while 
  she eases herself onto the edge of the cot beside him. Her fingertip moves 
  down his bare shoulder, not to rouse him or to indicate a similar state in 
  herself but for the simple, sweet pleasure of touching him.

He doesn't rouse, no, but his mouth twitches a little, head shifting slightly 
  towards his wife's hand. On some level, perhaps, Han senses her presence, 
  but his eyes remain firmly shut.

Fingertip leaving the skin on his shoulder, Leia caresses his tousled brown 
  hair instead, each touch tenderness exemplified. "Silly smuggler," she 
  whispers adoringly, a smile finding its way to her lips despite the serious 
  discussion she wants to force with him.

The fingers in his hair make Han stir ever so slightly again, eyes shifting 
  behind their lowered lids, his head turning back to being face up. A very 
  soft sigh flows out of him.

Weeks apart...no, months apart...have left a considerable dent in Leia's store 
  of affection where Han is concerned, and, watching his parted lips 
  post-sigh, she cannot resist leaning forward to kiss him ever so lightly.

Han's mouth responds readily, even if he still slumbers, his lips feathering 
  against the Princess's. Halfway through a small sleepful noise escapes him: 
  "Mrmmmm?"

"You're really handsome, even when you're sleeping," says the princess against 
  the smuggler's lips before sitting back to again regard him.

Hazel eyes come drowsily open, and the left side of Han's mouth arches upward 
  in an equally drowsy smile. "There you are," he murmurs. "If I'm so 
  handsome, what'd ya get up for, Princess...?" Still half asleep, he reaches 
  a hand up for her shoulder, intending to draw her down to him.

Leia answers with a wry quirk of her mouth, resisting, without much joy, the 
  urge to settle beside him. "Because you were going to roll me right out of 
  bed or just crush me, considering all the room you take up, you big nerf 
  herder." She lets her forefinger move along the line of his chin's scar 
  while continuing less jovially, "We need to discuss something, Han."

Han starts to frame a reply, then blinks sleepily. "Right now?" he protests, 
  sounding a bit like a small boy being informed he has to get up for school.

Leia brushes his bangs from his eyes, angles forward to kiss his forehead, and 
  answers, "It's about you and Chewbacca," in something of a verbal dash of 
  water in the face.

Han's drowsy expression tautens, his dark brows drawing together, a flash of 
  uneasiness sparking in his eyes. He glances momentarily away, and for that 
  moment, it seems that the Corellian's composure is rattled enough that he 
  can't quite manage to maintain his habitual casual exterior. "What about me 
  and Chewie?" he mutters.

Rising to remove herself from the immediate proximity of her husband and 
  therefore to facilitate discussing something difficult, Leia remarks, "I was 
  in the cockpit talking to him for a long time. I don't remember talking to 
  him like that before; it was probably long overdue." She hestitates before 
  continuing, her back turned toward him as she studies the fascinating lines 
  of the bulkhead. "I'm worried about you two, Han."

Han lies there quietly, uncharacteristically so, his own gaze shifting 
  uncomfortably to the ceiling. He's still quiet for a few lengthy moments 
  after Leia finishes, and when he finally replies, his voice has turned 
  gruff, despite his obvious attempt to sound as casual as possible. "So, 
  what'd ya talk about?"

Leia is a straightforward person where situations require directness, but 
  while Han is a verbal dancer, able to sidestep and leap over issues, she 
  hesitates to use bluntness where Chewbacca is concerned. After a deep breath 
  still some jangling nerves, she murmurs, "About how lost he feels around you 
  and me and about how he thinks the best thing for you is for him to leave."

The Corellian is silent again, for a longer time. And when he finally manages 
  a reply _this_ time, it's in a small, odd, almost strangled voice, and all 
  he says is, "Oh."

Back still presented to him, as if she cannot tolerate the idea of meeting his 
  gaze, Leia nods, fixing her attention on the _Falcon_'s bulkhead while 
  opening and closing her hands at her side. "I told him I'd be lost without 
  him."

"Oh," mumbles Han, again oddly.

Leia emits a small sigh, peers behind her at the prostrate Corellian, and 
  murmurs, "Going to say anything besides 'Oh," Han?"

Leia quite probably didn't want to look at her husband, for when she does, she 
  can see him lying there with a stricken, defenseless expression, staring 
  hollowly up at the ceiling. "Whatcha want me to say, Princess?" he asks, his 
  tone sounding numb.

"As a matter of fact," Leia counters, turning so that her loosely hanging hair 
  swings about in a chestnut-colored arc, "I want you to tell me why you and 
  Chewie aren't as close as you used to be. He thinks ..." Shoulders 
  slouching, the Alderaanian royal places herself on the cot beside Han, hands 
  clasped before her. "He thinks half of the problem is me. I don't know how 
  to convince him we want him here. We need him here. I don't know that _I_ 
  can."

Han, at last, turns his hazel gaze back to his wife... and the full force of 
  that bizarrely awkward, troubled expression. "I... dunno, Leia," he says 
  huskily. Hesitantly. "Wish I could tell what changed. I... thought 
  everything was okay when he came back to Calamari, but when we were gonna go 
  to O'paal to look for Junior..." And he can't finish the sentence; he only 
  stares up at the Princess, another uncharacteristic emotion glittering 
  across his eyes: guilt.

Leia studies her husband's face for a minute, perhaps longer, reading the 
  strength of that emotion in his gaze, feeling it to her bones. "He thinks 
  he's a liability to us, Han," she murmurs, "and we have to convince him 
  otherwise."

Now looking acutely uncomfortable, the Corellian shifts his gaze slightly away 
  and then back again -- clearly wrestling with his ability to keep looking 
  straight at the woman he loves. And very probably wrestling with what to say 
  in reply, too.

"Han, this is Chewie we're talking about. Your best friend. Someone who's like 
  a brother to both of us." The tone in Leia's voice speaks eloquently of her 
  concern for Han's reaction and for her fear over the possibility the Wookiee 
  may leave them. "You _do_ want him to stay, don't you?"

Han swallows hard, still unable to meet Leia's eyes. And he still can't manage 
  to say anything; the only response he gives her is a small, plaintive nod.

Action is required, Leia can tell, so she shoots to her feet, grabs his hand, 
  and yanks upward. "Then come _on_ and DO something, damn it. No wonder the 
  galaxy's in the condition it's in with men running half of the place."

Tugged, even with Leia's slight strength, Han finds himself hauled into 
  sitting up. And he balks, looking distinctly nervous now, as he rasps out, 
  "Hey... hey, Your Highness, hold on a second!"

That temper that Han finds so infuriatingly appealing is asserting itself in 
  Leia's dark, furrowed gaze. "For what? You two have been pussyfooting around 
  each other for months while I've been gone. Am I the only person on this 
  ship with guts to face a conflict and resolve it?" Never mind, of course, 
  how long she avoided her conflict of emotions with Han years back, no no.

"Did it ever occur to you that--well, hell, he mighta finally gotten some 
  sense into him?" Han shouts, surging to his feet, the blanket and sheet 
  dropping off unheeded. His previous pained expression is now hardening, but 
  it's not entirely gone, and as if to strive to cover his previous 
  awkwardness, "Maybe he's just sick and tired of wasting his time trying to 
  haul my ass out of the fire, maybe, hell, maybe he just wants to go home and 
  be with _his_ wife and his kid, huh?" Then, Han does another 
  uncharacteristic thing: he blushes, red, yanking his hand out of Leia's and 
  whirling to scowl at the nearest wall, his head slightly bowed. He finishes 
  in a much lower but still quite taut tone, "What right do I have to tell him 
  where he ought to go?"

Leia scoops up a pillow from the cot that Han has just vacated and, with her 
  usual lack of diplomacy where he is concerned, whallops him in the back of 
  the head. Time to beat sense into the numbskulled smuggler. "Because, you 
  idiot, he loves you and wants to hear that you want him. Why can't you see 
  that? He's so worried about being in your way, about causing you trouble 
  since I'm around now that he feels unneeded. Worse, he feels like he's a 
  danger to you!" The pillow, its use fulfilled, is tossed aside so that Leia 
  can put her hands on Han's shoulders to speak more softly. "Han, just talk 
  to him. Please. Stop being the hotshot Corellian and start being his friend 
  again. Remind him what he means to you and he'll _stay_. I did. He will too."

Han's head bows a little lower... and the shoulders under Leia's hands have 
  tensed, the muscles under the skin turned as hard as the deck beneath Han's 
  bare feet. "I ain't been the hotshot Corellian in months, Princess," he 
  mutters starkly.

_And I haven't been here to know._ Leia sighs before placing her cheek against 
  the firm musculature of his back, arms slipping about his waist in a 
  spooning sort of embrace. "You don't like telling someone you care about how 
  you feel, Han. And Chewie desperately needs to hear it from you. You have to 
  tell him, love. You have to."

His back has tensed, too, all up and down his spine. Han is aware of this, and 
  in wrathful annoyance, he orders himself not to tremble. _I shouldn't -have- 
  to tell him, never had to before,_ he thinks, well aware of the sentiments 
  Leia's been dredging out from the back of his brain all throughout this 
  conversation, where he'd thought they'd been safely shoved out of the way. 
  Han isn't entirely sure he _has_ the words to vocalize those feelings, and 
  for that matter, he's not entirely convinced Chewie wants to hear them, 
  either. But here's Leia, telling him what she's telling him... and so, Han 
  turns around in her arms, peering down at her uncomfortably. And he rasps 
  out, "You gonna let me put my pants on first?"

Leia smiles, both unable and unwilling to keep the flood of untainted and 
  utter love from the brown of her dark irises. Her small hand curves around 
  the well-defined lines of his right pectoral while she drawls, "Unless you 
  think I'm the one in this family who should be wearing them..."

He manages a faint ghost of a crooked smile, and says succintly, "I look lousy 
  in royal gowns, Your Highnessness." And he gives his wife a rough, firm hug, 
  before turning away to locate and pull on the 'Stripe-bedecked blue trousers 
  he'd tossed onto another bunk. Feeling only slightly less vulnerable, 
  nervousness still showing in the awkward set of his features, he aims 
  himself for the hatch and mutters gruffly, "Let's get this overwith."

[And shortly....]

The cockpit is not suited for pacing by human standards ... and for Wookiee 
  it's patently ridiculous. Somehow Chewbacca did not feel assured about Leia 
  talking to Han ... he didn't think that Han wanted him to go away ... it 
  just seemed that their situation wasn't, ah, compatible any longer. The 
  Wookiee had managed to wait in the cockpit for about 20 minutes, but growing 
  twitchier by the moment, Chewbacca's paws were itching to work on something. 
  Before he knew it he found himself opening up the flooring and dropping into 
  the engine pit, checking on a few connections that had a tendency to burn 
  out, and running some diagnostics directly. Within short order the Wookiee 
  was softly crooning to himself, the "song" sour enough to frighten away 
  Mynocks.

Telling himself in six different languages how much he just does _NOT_ like 
  being dragged out of bed to go confess his deepest feelings, even if it's to 
  his best friend, and even if it's his wife doing the dragging, Han slinks 
  barefootedly through the _Falcon_'s ring corridor, looking here and there 
  for Chewbacca. And trying not to look at Leia, lest she somehow manage to 
  figure out exactly how nervous he is despite his efforts to look as cool as 
  he can. Inevitably, he catches the sounds of Chewie's tinkering... and, um, 
  'singing', and pauses to suck in a breath before venturing into the hold 
  where his partner is at work.

As Han approaches the place where Chewbacca is howli...singing, his hesitation 
  palpable, Leia slows her walk to put distance between herself and the 
  Corellian lest she appear to be hovering or, worse, doubtful that he will go 
  through with her suggestion. She watches Han proudly, lovingly, though the 
  nature of her gaze is more to the maternal side: she wants to be certain he 
  _will_ talk to Chewbacca about what she thinks the Wookiee needs to hear. 
  Knowing them, whatever tinkering Chewie is doing will give them a ready-made 
  conversational outlet that each will seize with utter glee.

The mournful sounds, which is actually a popular song along from Chewbacca's 
  youth stops suddenly, and there is the distinct sound of sniffing. The 
  Wookiee is still partial to using his Wookiee given senses as well as modern 
  tools, and something, somewhere, is quite decidedly a bad and burning 
  connection. There is a disdainful whuffle and a clatter as Chewie rises up a 
  touch too quickly, tools crashing to the floor, and then a soft *bong* and a 
  barking yelp as his maned head connects with a cooling pipe. There is then 
  more silence before a soft unhappy whine rings out, the Wookiee rubbing his 
  head and glaring at the offending pipe.

Han starts palpably, his weathered features twisting in sympathy for a moment, 
  before he decides to seize the opportunity. "Chewie," he calls out. "Hey, 
  uh, hi pal..."

"Nnnnnerf??" The Wookiee peers up over the edge, waving at Han with a clearly 
  baffled expression on his face, a hydrospanner in the waving paw. Looking 
  back over his shoulder, Chewbacca sniffs again, but whatever the connection 
  was, it doesn't smell like it's burning now. There is a disgusted snort and 
  the Wookiee heaves himself up and out of the hole. Settling himself on the 
  edge with legs dangling down he peers over at Han again and urrrnfs, "Ah ... 
  thought you'd be asleep? Did I wake you?"

_Casual, Solo. Calm. Cool. Collected. Just like playing sabacc..._ Never mind 
  that Han can name at least twenty different times when he's been exactly 
  this nervous, if not more, at the sabacc tables. He manages a small crooked 
  grin, and glances over his shoulder briefly, before looking back to Chewie 
  and waving a hand dismissively. "Nah... uh... Leia did." _Okay, bright boy, 
  what do you say now?_

Leia's presence is quiet and in fact, for the moment, entirely silent. She 
  folds her arms over her slender frame and leans against the bulkhead to 
  observe; clearly no intentions exist to assist.

Cocking his head curiously, Chewbacca snerfles, "What are you doing here then? 
  I've been keeping a low profile, figured you and the Princess needed some 
  time alone. Just figured I'd drop by to check on the Falcon." The connection 
  isn't burning any longer, but Chewie doesn't like what he suspects is 
  coming, what Leia has pressured Han into doing. Turning away, he scowls ever 
  so slightly, worrying that Leia's once again using her influence to make Han 
  something that he's not ... make him do things he'd rather not. Sniffing the 
  air again, Chewbacca whines slightly, wishing now for that singed scent to 
  waft through again.

Han's expression shifts awkwardly as he watches the Wookiee turn. Not having 
  anything else to do with his hands, he shoves one through his sleep-rumpled 
  hair, and drums the fingertips of the other against his blue-clad thigh. 
  "Well... hell, pal," he mutters, "I ain't seen ya since I got here. Wanted 
  to say hi."

Turning back around, Chewbacca rises up, walking toward Han quietly. Reaching 
  out a paw, the Wookiee smirks, and drops it to Han's head, well and 
  thoroughly mussing up the Corellian's hair. "Missed you too," he whurfles. 
  "How was Tatooine, other than hot, dirty, and nasty?"

Leia withdraws into the shadows, mature enough to leave the friends in peace 
  but curious enough to want to observe...just in case.

Unsurprisingly, Han tries to duck his head out of the way... but not too much. 
  A slight smirk curling his mouth -- a smirk of inward relief at Chewie at 
  least getting -one- unspoken message so far this conversation, this bodes 
  well for the next -- he answers a little more lightly, "Hot, dirty, and 
  nasty. Kass punched me in the jaw, but she also told me what I went there to 
  find out. The ship looks real good, pal, I been checking her over." He 
  reaches up a hand, curls it into a loose fist, and bats in token protest at 
  Chewie's mussing paw.

*Urfurf*ing in amusement, Chewbacca draws his paw away, giving Han's hair an 
  appraising gaze. "It looks good that way, leave it." Cocking his head to one 
  side, one Wookiee brow arches. "Kass? I'm surprised she only punched you. 
  Weren't your last words to her something along the lines of, "I'll be right 
  back?" Really Han, you left her there with no clothes to speak of." The 
  Wookiee cannot help but urfurf again at the recollection ... they had been 
  in a rush, what with that bounty hunter turning up unexpectedly.

So much for the princess remaining anonymous and hidden in the corridor behind 
  Han. She understands Chewbacca well enough to catch that part about "you 
  left her with no clothes to speak of," and before she can prevent it an 
  exclamation pops out of her mouth, unauthorized. The hand that flies upward 
  to cover her lips is a mite too late to stuff the sound back in, though 
  Leia, regretting it, slides further into the shadows, such as they are.

Han clears his throat, his head turning slightly in Leia's direction, though 
  he doesn't actually look fully back at her. Stoically setting his 
  expression, he mutters, "Well, hell, she _did_ still have her blasters, all 
  three of 'em. Um. Anyway..."

Heading jerking up in surprise the Wookiee's muzzle splits into a wide grin, 
  fangs bared. Dropping his gaze back down to Han's, he lowly grumblerowls, 
  "Ooops ... sorry bout that. Shouldn't take you more than, oh, and hour to 
  explain it to her."

The look Han receives during his backward glance, by the way, indicates 
  Chewie's estimation is likely on the low end.

Han crosses his arms just under the three scars slashing across his chest, and 
  attempts to look casual. "She, uh, asked me not to talk about other women, 
  pal," he confides, not quite managing to sound bland. Then he goes on, 
  "Look... Chewie...."

The Wookiee manages to resist noting that that represents about, oh, half of 
  Han's past pasttimes. However, has Han's tone shifts, the phrasing familiar 
  and usually indicative of something awkward, Chewbacca cocks his head to one 
  side and remains silent. Usually his partner finds these sorts of "talks" 
  awkward enough to begin with.

And the Wookiee's not wrong, either. Hazel eyes dropping their gaze briefly 
  down to something of apparent fascinating interest on the deck before 
  raising up again, Han squares his shoulders and says as casually as he can 
  manage, "Leia says you're thinkin' about... leavin'." There's a slight rasp 
  to his tone now, and an ever so slight -- but present -- pause before his 
  final word.

Unlike his partner, Chewbacca meets the awkward topic head on, bright blue 
  eyes affixed to Han's discomfited features. "The way things have been going 
  this past year," he yuuurals softly, "... yeah, it's crossed my mind. It 
  seems like I'm more of a danger to you lately ... that you'd do better, be 
  safer, if it was just you and the Princess." There is a slight pause before 
  the Wookiee adds, to forestall any worry, "I'm not leaving ... and I 
  wouldn't just vanish." Chewbacca almost adds, _You know that_, but can't 
  help recall that he left Kashyyyk with the Falcon and no word after hearing 
  about how his presence was unwelcome on Tatooine and in rescuing Luke.

Han's gaze turns suspiciously... liquid. His hands fidget again, this time the 
  right one tapping fingertips against his thigh rather than the left, and 
  although there's a visible relief in his face at the Wookiee's assurances, 
  still, the Corellian is acutely uncomfortable. He finally drops his gaze, 
  and it stays down, as he mutters, "Anybody been a danger to anybody lately, 
  it's _me_."

Able as she is to read Han's body language and emotions, tuned to what her 
  husband feels and thinks, Leia must struggle to prevent herself from 
  comforting him; she is married presently to the idea that this conversation 
  is good for them and that her intervention is not only unwelcome but may be 
  disasterous.

Staring down at his partner puzzledly, Chewie rowls in dissent. "Why would you 
  say anything so patently ridiculous? You're Han Solo," garlumphs Chewbacca, 
  his tone one that seems to state _what else is there to be said?!_ "I'm too 
  much a beacon now - you have so many more enemies than you used to. You're 
  the one with the bounties on your head. I'm just "the Wookiee" ... the 
  Empire doesn't even consider me to be sentient. What I am is a big furry 
  target marking you for who you are. Without me you'd be less recognizable 
  Han, you have to realize that. The team going to Tatooine certainly did."

Han snorts, turning away restlessly, trying to muster a coherent argument. 
  "Yeah, I'm Han frekkin' Solo, and every bounty hunter in the galaxy would 
  happily ice anybody I care about to collect the prices riding on me! Leia... 
  _you_... kids, too, if Her Worship and I have 'em... anybody." He begins to 
  build up steam, now, pacing, his expression fretful. "And I ain't exactly 
  done squat towards making anybody safe, either, I'm the one who had the 
  nightmares, got us damned near killed goin' to O'paal. I'm the one who gets 
  told 'Don't do anything rash, Captain Solo', and if my friends get in 
  trouble, nobody even freggin' _tells_ me for days, anymore...!"
Han abruptly cuts off, then, as if realizing exactly what words had just burst 
  out of him. He stops pacing, too, and stares at the nearest control panel, 
  looking unsure whether he ought to be scowling. He's not quite managing it, 
  and it makes him look worried and vulnerable.

Frowning, the Wookiee lumbers over toward Han, reaches out, and drops heavy 
  paws on his partner's shoulders, effectively causing Solo to stop and be 
  still. "No one told -either- of us about Luke ... not just you. And you have 
  to admit, Winter's always been one to lean to the side of caution, while you 
  and I keel toward danger. If a bounty hunter's going for you, he'll go for 
  -you- Han ... they always have. They just aren't smart enough usually to 
  consider any other tactic." There is a snort ... "As for O'paal, yeah, that 
  was stupid and I tried to tell you so. So you'll listen to me next time. 
  That's everything save for two ... what nightmares, and Leia's pregnant??"

"Well, uh, not yet, she ain't," Han rasps out, a trifle too quickly. He stands 
  there obediently enough under Chewie's grasp, but he can't quite look up at 
  his friend, nor can he really look over at Leia, though his head shifts in 
  her direction.

Leia confirms gently from the corner she has selected to keep watch over her 
  husband and friend, "Not yet. But I'd like to be. Go on, Han. Tell him about 
  the nightmares." Her words include the unspoken message of, "Tell me too."

Raising his gaze toward the shadows, Chewbacca simply whuffs in agreement, his 
  gaze dropping to Han's face again, willing the Corellian to talk -to- him.

No doubt about it, Han is now blushing. He studies Chewie's furry chest before 
  him, and mutters gruffly, "Luke got rid of 'em. Just... had a little trouble 
  sleepin' on Calamari, 'sall. Before you, uh... came back, Chewie."

The Wookiee will press his friend no further ... "So they're over now ... and 
  they were just dreams. After those previous six months, I'd say they were 
  your much needed release," Chewbacca's gaze dropping to Han's chest as well, 
  one paw reaching to trace one of the vicious scars with a low growl of a 
  Wookiee who has not yet had the opportunity to avenge that wrong.

Leia essays two forward steps, arms still crossed over herself, gaze sharp, 
  intent while she becomes the observer once again.

"Yeah, well," the Corellian mumbles, not wanting to say anything else on the 
  matter of dreams; as far as he's concerned, Han Solo is not supposed to have 
  nightmares. "Guess what I wanna say is..." _Dammit. How hard can this be?!_ 
  "... I'm, uh... glad you're not leavin', pal." His voice drops in volume, 
  down to unHannishly low levels, as he concludes, "Need ya round. To remind 
  me not to be an idiot."

Letting out a soft yurfing growl, Chewie turns Han about, wrapping an arm 
  about his chest in a hug and rubbing his hair as he did once in Jabba's 
  prison ... the pair once again re-united. "You and the Princess having 
  children .... bout time," he whufflemuses.

Leia smiles warmly at both Corellian and Wookiee, delighted to be included in 
  this moment even on the periphery, relief part of her attitude now. Her 
  shoulders, for the first time in an hour or so, have unbunched.

The lopsided smile Han puts forth, now, is only a little shaky; the relief in 
  his expression is now unmistakable. "I still ain't sure the galaxy's ready 
  for a little version of me," he rasps, lifting up one bare arm to wrap 
  around his friend's befurred, larger limb. "Ahh, quit it, Chewie, you're 
  messin' up my hair..."

Rubbing harder for a moment longer, Chewbacca brushes Han's han back into a 
  semblence of order. "Looks better mussed," he urrii-iines, glancing up over 
  Han's head to pick Leia's form in the shadows easily, a fangful smile sent 
  the Princesses way. "Who said anything about a little Han? ... I figure 
  you'll have a pretty baby girl who will melt your heart like her mother did."

What can she say to that? Leia gives Chewie a look of delicate and 
  appreciative affection, not stirring from her resting spot. Things look 
  perfect to her just as they are.

This appears to give Han pause; clearly, the concept of an infant girl had not 
  occurred to him. He glances up at Chewbacca, and for a brief but observable 
  moment, the former smuggler's expression softens, suggesting that the 
  thoughts now running through his head can be summarized with 'Awwww...' Then 
  he straightens up and strives to look casual again, saying with just a 
  little gruffness, "Well. Kinda turnin' on the hyperdrive before we got a 
  ship here, you two. I mean, well... she's not pregnant!"

Urfurfing, Chewbacca places a paw at Han's back, pushing him gently but firmly 
  toward Leia's darkened corner. "Well, get to work then ... it's labor 
  intensive, but you have to admit that you love your job," Chewbacca teases 
  in a rare ribald moment.

Leia blinks twice and, in an equally rare show of self-consciousness, turns 
  several deep shades of red. "We...that is...Han and I...we...ahhh...is 
  anyone hungry?"

Han stumbles a little, but moves towards Leia anyway, meeting her eyes, his 
  own unguarded, but rather less awkward now. He flashes Chewie an entirely 
  non-shaky crooked grin, then returns his gaze to the Princess. "It's 0200, 
  Your Highness," he rumbles at her. "Only decent activities for this hour are 
  sleep, drinkin', and, ah" -- his gaze drops meaningfully down to her belly. 
  "Workin' on makin' Little Worships."

The Wookiee looks positively smug, his muzzle cracked in a fangful smile. Hey, 
  if Leia is going to interfere in -his- relationship with Han, it's only fair 
  that he rock the ship a little in return. Turning about the Wookiee begins 
  to hum a little tuneless melody, the emphasis being on tuneless. He has the 
  decency to at least let the pair escape with a modicum of privacy. Lumbering 
  back toward the engine pit, he hunkers down, sniffing suspiciously once 
  again before dropping down.

Han must delight in making Leia as completely uncomfortable as possible, and, 
  if he indeed does, he must feel proud of how she squirms, as speechless as 
  she had been in the frozen corridors of Hoth when he first confronted her 
  with her feelings for him. Bashful, jaw working, she finally catches Han's 
  hand and draws him aftward, to a more private locale in which to continue 
  this...discussion.

[End log.]