Han Solo.

The cocky, hot-headed son of a Wookie wrangler possessed no where near the brain capacity half the Rebel Alliance thought he did. If it weren't for his piloting skills and tactical brilliance when it came to outsmarting Imperial strike forces, we wouldn't need him. I wouldn't need him. Despite how many times Han tried to convince me otherwise, I refused to acknowledge his ridiculous advances. I was a princess after all. I shouldn't have to put up with scoundrels like him.

Vexing me seemed to be a fun past-time of his, for he could hardly speak one or two sentences without saying something absolutely infuriating! And I fell for it! Every. SINGLE. Time.

I was done. I was so done.

Striding down the freezing cold corridors of our rebel base upon Hoth, I ignored the fact that my toes and finger tips were succumbing to numbness, and power walked onward, headed straight for the command center where I prayed to the Force I would not run into that self-righteous idiot again. I needed time to cool my head and rid it of the patronizing thought cycle that revolved around images of me wrapping my hands around Solo's neck and strangling him to death!

Leia, I said to myself, you need to learn to control your impulses.

As calm and composed as I could usually make myself amidst the tense situations of Senate and Rebellion matters, why did I fall to shambles every time Han Solo said or did something to instigate me?

He was a teenage boy trapped in the body of a man, and nothing more! One would think I would have learned to keep my mouth from firing off every time he said something to provoke me. And this time, oh boy had I gone too far.

In the heat of my encounter in the bacta tank room where I went to visit Luke after his treatments, not only had I fired my mouth off, loosing my temper and reducing myself to petty behavior, by shouting:

"Why, you stuck-up...half-witted...scruffy-looking NERF-herder!"

...But I had also gone so far as to actually kiss Luke Skywalker.

I felt my cheeks and ears burn in mortification of my actions.

No, I hadn't kissed Luke because I actually liked him. Well, not in that way you know. The kiss had been an act of rebellious defiance based on an infuriating accusation on Han Solo's part towards me. Nothing more.

Han Solo regularly poked fun at me for any matter he put his head to, but only recently had he begun to use his teasing on a far more personal level... Why, the scoundrel dared to insinuate that I was capable of actually having feelings for him other than mere tolerance!

Apparently he had gotten knocked in the head one too many times while flying that old piece-of-bantha-fodder ship of his, because he was hallucinating if he thought I could ever hold an ounce of positive emotions towards him!

And that was why I had done it.

That was why I kissed Luke. I hoped it would come off as a slap in the face to Han Solo's ridiculous assumptions, but now that I walked alone through the icy halls thinking about it, I wasn't so sure. Had I given Luke the wrong idea?

It wasn't like the kiss had been anything special. In fact, it felt more like kissing a brother than anything else, honestly.

Don't get me wrong, I love Luke. But... more like family, you know? That kind of love. I could never picture myself as an actual couple with Skywalker. I wasn't sure why, but something in my gut just told me that it would feel seriously wrong.

Well, however things transpired, I had to hope for the best. Perhaps now Han would quit with his outrageous habit of probing for feelings of mine that simply were not there.

Somehow, I doubted it.


Alright guys, that's all for now! Want more? Be sure to review and say so!

If you haven't read or seen it yet, go and check out "Who's Scruffy Lookin?" -my partner fic to this story that is written from Han's POV!