Title: Morning after Nothing

Rating: T

Summary: Leia wakes up in Han's bed after a rough night. Takes place after Han's rescue in ROTJ

((Don't own the characters or the universe, obviously))

"Morning, Your Worshipfullness."

Leia woke with a start, her eyes snapping open to reveal a smug looking and half-dressed Corellian. Han laughed.

"Its dawn, Princess, so you'd better leave now. You wouldn't want anyone to catch you here and think we did it." His tone was teasing, but Leia searched his eyes as she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position, looking for some hint of resentfulness.

He had probably been hoping that she had come to "do it", as he so eloquently put it, when she had knocked at his door in the middle of the night. Leia didn't know much about how one's hopes reacted when regarding the matter of sex, but she was pretty sure his had dissipated when he opened the door to find her half-sobbing in her Alliance-issued, too-big night clothes.

The nightmares- of Alderaan, of her torture, of Vader and the empire and defeat- had come less frequently since Han's rescue. One less thing to worry about, one more thing to dream of. But they certainly hadn't decreased in intensity, and when Leia awoke, sobbing, shivering, choking on her screams, her first thought was Han.

He had let her in without question, drawing her into his arms and whispering to her, comforting her. In the waking hours, she realized that if there was anyone who knew what it was like to suffer from nightmares, it would be Han. But he hadn't claimed that he understood her pain, hadn't tried to tell her that it would all be okay, hadn't told her to stop crying.

He held her for a while, and once she had stopped crying, she had been angry. And he sat there and let her rant, not interjecting his own opinion, not telling her that she was overreacting, not telling her that it was the middle of the night and that she was tired and stressed and that things would look better in the morning.

And things did look better in the morning.

After she was done crying and ranting, Han went and got the alcohol. Getting drunk wasn't usually Leia's outlet, thank the stars, but they both got more than a little tipsy, her more so than him, and then she felt well enough to try to sleep again. Han had tucked her into his own bed and she had slept like a rock. A really exhausted, somewhat-drunk rock.

Leia was lucky that he was there for her. She had spent most of her life alone, at least in the means of having someone to talk to about things other than politics. Or sob and yell at. She had missed Han so much. Never once had she let herself believe that she wouldn't get him back from Jabba, and she never would have stopped fighting, but looking back, she realized that she was incredibly lucky that Lando and Chewie and Luke had been as persistent as she had. She had developed a strong bond with the three in their months of searching, but none could ever replace Han. Han, who could have easily taken advantage of her drunk and fragile state last night, but didn't. As much as he would never admit it, her pirate's code of honor included a certain sense of chivalry. He was her rock. And he really did understand her.

"Oh, who cares?" She mumbled, still slightly groggy. Han cocked an eyebrow.

"'Bout what?"

"What they think. About us. We know the truth." He chuckled, pulling her to her feet.

"And what truth is that?" Leia paused, thinking of a retort. She couldn't find one, so instead she rose and pressed her lips to his. Han pulled her into his embrace and deepened the kiss. She pulled away, gasping, after a moment.

"That I love you." She finally replied.

"I know." Han responded with a smile. He pulled her in for another kiss.

"I love you, too." He whispered.

This was my first Star Wars fanfic, and my third overall fic on this site. I'd love it if you'd review!