nsfw open post.

[imahologram]

for whatever miscellaneous sexy bullshit your little heart can come up with.

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[imahologram]

[She swipes at her lips before folding up the rag and hiding it in her fist. As lousy as she feels, she's not going to make Han carry rag she's stained further. You're welcome, Han.

The smile she has for him is wan, pale in a too-pale face since her lipstick came off along with the last flecks of vomit.]

I'd like that. Let me just let everyone know.

[Everyone's standing behind her, aren't they? Everyone's definitely standing behind her. Taking a breath--through her mouth--she turns around and offers a Princess Leia Definitely Has This Under Control kind of smile. She hopes you'll all forgive her--it seems she got a little space-sick on the way down to Coruscant's surface. Cancel her appointments for the morning, she'll keep the ones she has in the afternoon. Et cetera, et cetera. Nods here, bows there, a reassuring smile for her new page, who's effective but apparently rather shaken by the sight of dignitaries throwing up, and finally, she's free.

Once they're alone, her shoulders sag a little. This trip would have been exhausting even without the secret that's giving her stomach upset.]

The Falcon?

[consolo]

[ Han learned to parse those many smiles from when she was charmed by his antics and didn't want to say as much, or when she was borderline murderous and only showing teeth the same way predators do. He knew right away this particular half-smile was indicative of someone not saying Back off but that she had this under control. Of course he hangs back and allowed Leia to navigate her familiar territory of etiquette under fire.

When her shoulders sag he already has and arm wrapping around them. Slyly pinching the rag out of her hand before stuffing it into his back pocket. He didn't care. He's handled worse. ]

Yeah, you didn't think I'd come running in anything but style did you?

[imahologram]

If you call that style.

[There's no real fire in her voice as she rests her head against his shoulder, just tired affection. Things aren't going to get any easier from here, but at least they can hide out in the Falcon sometimes.

She's quiet as they walk over to the ship, letting his earlier words reverberate in her mind. Hiya, sweetheart. Marry me? There's so much she wants to say, but first, she wants the privacy of the Falcon.

Once they're inside, though, her first order of business is to lean in against him so she can take her soiled shoes off.]

Looks like I won't be wearing these again.

[consolo]

[ Another thing Leia maybe unknowingly taught him was when to pick his battles - namely with her. The bristling drive to come out swinging in defense of the Falcon was stamped out almost immediately. One of many impossible things happening seemingly all at once today.

Instead he rubs her arm as they make the short walk back to the Falcon in somewhat of a fugue. The woman half-walking, half-leaning against him is pregnant. With his kid. And he just proposed to her with maybe a lot less fanfare than a princess would (should) have expected. ]

It's fine your feet are going to swell anyway.

[ Han says, not thinking. ]

[imahologram]

[At some point, she'd like it if making fun of the Falcon's occasionally questionable functionality was an accepted thing coming from her. She's grown fond of the ship, truly fond of it, but she's not so in love with it that she can't see its shortcomings.

On the other hand, given the dirty look she shoots him when he brings up her feet swelling, maybe she should leave the Falcon alone. If she can't take it--and her dander's up a little more than usual--she probably shouldn't dish it out.]

You know just what to say, don't you?

[consolo]

I, uh-

[ Now it was Han's turn for the color to drain from his face. He doesn't expect a fight from her. Thinking the worst of it had been knocked right out of her along with breakfast. Leia was exhausted and dealing with too much just before Han had swooped in with a marriage proposal and an insult. A true one, maybe. But maybe now wasn't the time for Han Solo's brand of candor.

He rubs the back of his neck and feels sweat. ]

How's your stomach?

[imahologram]

[Maybe she should take it easy on him--this is a lot to throw at a man, especially after greeting him with a stricken look and morning sickness--but she's in no mood for cracks about what the next nine months are going to bring. She has some mercy left in her, though, and it's in the way she answers his next question with a little less spark.

Of course, it helps that his next question isn't begging for trouble.]

It's been better. [She grimaces.] Some water might help.

[consolo]

[ Han preemptively prepared on the flight for the next several months of the bodily realities of fatherhood - combined with what fatherhood was going to expose him to bodily fluid wise. None of this he was going to place on Leia to make her life more difficult. In all the nine separate hells he would not wish what she was going to go through on his worst enemy. ]

Water I can do.

[ Snapping his fingers with a sharp clap he rises from his seat to disappear into the galley. Something about the simple act of filling a tin canteen of water somehow turning into the most important act of his life. ]

Here.

[ Hell, if his hands weren't shaking the moment he passed that tin cup over in her hands. ]

[imahologram]

[Leia takes the cup from him and doesn't comment on the way the water sloshes over the lip. If Han's nervous, he's nervous--she's a little nervous herself.

It's one of the best sips of water she's ever taken in her life, and the relief shows on her face. They're alone; there's no need to hide how she feels, especially when the answer is "pretty rotten, up til now."

Once the taste of acid is out of her mouth, she sets the cup down and looks over at him with a tentative smile.]

You were saying something about getting married?

[consolo]

[ At this point his heart could have wrapped tighter than a fist and knocked straight through his rib cage - or his throat. For how hard and how loud it beat between his ears. Hands sweaty at the palms smooth again and again over his pants leg as he watches the color slowly return to Leia's face with each gulp of water. ]

Something, anyway. [ His own smile is crooked and despite the sparkle in his eye somehow more unsure. ]

We could leave - right now. Just say the word.

[imahologram]

Without telling anyone? [There's the hint of a smile curving around the edge of the cup. It's easier to look amused, she finds, when it doesn't feel like her head and stomach are both spinning. Thanks for nothing, kid.] Luke would kill us.

[Chewie probably wouldn't mind, but Chewie's probably aboard somewhere. They wouldn't actually be leaving without him.]

You're sure about this? [It's jinxing it to ask, and probably a little annoying, but part of her is still agog at the idea that inveterate wanderer Han Solo is so quick to offer to tie himself down. Proof, she thinks, of just how deeply he loves her--more than any words could show.]

[consolo]

He could try. [ Bright, unrepentant joy colors the edges of his smile that was so wide it threatened to split his stupid head open. ] No - I want to savor this.

[ The loudest noise hovering over his knee-jerk response on the matter. He stood, breathless, scared - and she could picked on that, but he was stolid in how he delivered a very personal message. ]

More sure about anything than I have been in my life.

[imahologram]

Well, if you're that sure... [Something flutters low in her belly, and while it can't be their child--their child, who's hardly more than a few cells at this point, right?--she'd like to think it's a sort of wordless approval nonetheless. She can't help grinning up at him, reaching for his hand to tug him to her for a kiss.] I'm sure we could set something up this week.

[Call up Luke, let Chewie know, look for something nice to wear, hire an officiant--there, that's it. Something small and quick and just for them.]

Unless you were hoping for a marriage of state, that is.