Author: GreatOne PM
Leia finds a bad poem, and blames Han for writing itRated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Leia O. & Han S. - Words: 711 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 2 - Published: 06-10-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5126891
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Shortly before ESB....
As she walked down the cold corridor Leia almost walked past the trash recycler, but stopped and frowned down at the flimsy-plast wadded up on the floor. "Are they blind? Why can't they see they missed the recycler?" Leia complained under her breath. "No... they let someone else pick up after them. Do I look like their mother?" She bent over and snatched the offending flimsy up, her hand moving toward the container... when she noticed scrawled writing. Curious, she smoothed out the flimsy, and feeling a bit guilty for being so nosy, she read the hastily written words.
Your skin is like a satin sheet,
Rosy lips tempt me with promises so sweet,
Your pretty nose curves up and crinkles funny,
The sound of your laughter is as sweet as honey,
Though I object to hauling you across the galaxy,
I think you must know it's only a fallacy,
Because I would face a thousand Imps, you see,
If only would you be
Leia read the words three times before she could grasp what she was actually reading. "How dare he?" she muttered. Furious, she headed off to confront the author.
"What's the meaning of this?" the Princess demanded, thrusting the flimsy under Han's nose as he sat at the holo-chess on the Falcon, table sipping caffe.
"Nice to see you, too, Sweetheart," the Corellian drawled out. "Crawled outta your ice-cube on the wrong side this morning?"
"You left this on the floor on purpose, didn't you?" she continued to rant. "Just to embarrass me."
"What's gotten you all hot and bothered?" Han asked, leaning back, putting his hands behind his head and lacing his fingers together while giving the worked-up Princess his best leer. "Of course, you getting hot and bothered might be a good thing, since it'll help keep down the heating costs, and that's a benefit for the Rebellion. You know I'm always available to help you with that, Princess, so don't say I've never volunteered for something unless it involves making me money."
"Read this!" She threw the crinkled flimsy down on the table. "If you think this is somehow funny...."
Sighing, the smuggler dropped his arms, and picked up the flimsy, then read the words. "Who wrote this?" he asked after he was finished. "They write really krethin' bad poetry."
"Are you telling me you didn't write that?"
Han laughed. "Come on, Princess. Give me a little bit of credit. What makes you think I'm the one that wrote that garbage?"
"No one else calls me those stupid nicknames but you."
"But everyone on base knows I call you those names. I think you must have some fantasy that I spend hours pining over you, and write sappy poetry hoping you'll pay attention to me when you find it."
"I don't fantasize about you, Captain," the Princess said, her voice frosty. "If you didn't write this, then who did?"
"It was obviously a joke. Someone meant for you to find it and think that I wrote it. Probably Wes, if I had to guess."
"Well...." Leia suddenly felt stupid, and she hated when that happened. "Don't you dare tell Wes Janson I fell for his prank... or... or...."
"Or, what? Maybe I'll keep your secret, and maybe I won't," Han taunted. "It depends."
"Depends? Depends on what?"
"I'll keep your secret if you kiss me." Han leaned forward, puckering his lips and making kissy noises.
Leia's eyes grew wide and she backed away. "How dare you! I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last man in the galaxy!"
"You'll never know what you're missing, Your Holiness."
"Errggg.... ack!" Unable to come up a better response, Leia turned and flounced away, blushing a bright shade of pink.
Han sat quietly for a few seconds, then looked down at the flimsy she'd left behind. "Next time I throw away something as incriminating as this, I think I'll burn it first," he said softly.