cactus kate

Han hands you a communicator and instructs you on how to work it. You place the speaker in your ear and clip the controller around your wrist. Your other bracelets disguise it perfectly. Han and Chewie test their communications before the three of you leave the Falcon.

You follow the pair at a distance that makes it seem you aren’t part of their group. They lead you to the cantina where the guild members tend to hang out. Han and Chewbacca take a seat in a booth close to the entrance. You wait a moment at the door, scanning the crowd for someone who looks like they’d give you the information you need.

“We’ll sit just out of sight while you look for information. Keep your mic hot when you find someone. Once you get the location of the guild meeting, we’ll slip out the front and meet you back at the Falcon when we get a job,” Han chimes in over the comm, his rough voice echoing in your ear.

You don’t respond, as to not indicate to anyone paying attention to you that you are in cahoots with your crew. There. You spot a guild member seated at the bar, keeping a low profile but just buzzed enough that he’s looking for some entertainment.

Approaching the bar, you slyly click your comm’s mic on, making sure not to meet the man’s eyes that you now feel burning on you. You sit down next to him, and order your go-to drink for missions like this - a drink that takes most men by surprise that a lady like you would order it. Whatever that means.

“One fuzzy tauntaun, please,” you say to the bartender, sliding enough credits for the drink and a tip across the bar. You casually toss your hair behind your shoulder, exposing your collarbone and neck to the man seated next to you, still feeling his gaze adjusted on you.

“I would have never pegged you to be a fan of the fuzzy tauntaun,” the man says to you, flashing you a smoldering look.

You smile flirtatiously, knowing that the oldest trick in your book worked once again.

“You seem like too much of a lady to enjoy such a strong drink,” he says, shifting in his seat to get a better view of you.

“I like to keep people on their toes,” you say sweetly, reaching for the drink the bartender placed in front of you, taking a long, slow sip of the fiery alcohol while keeping your gaze on the man in front of you. You feel a familiar set of eyes land on your back. Han. He shifted in the booth to watch you engage with this man, intently observing your body language.

“What is someone as pretty as yourself doing in a place like this?” the man asks, carefully watching your drink release from your lips and land back on the table. “It’s not everyday I get to sit next to the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he adds.

What a line. You’ve heard that one before, never sincerely though. Every man uses it with one goal in mind. Hearing it, though, assures you that you’ve picked the right person who will bend just enough to give you the information you need.

“You flatter me,” you squeal, mustering up the most flirtatious tone you can, softly pushing the man’s shoulder away, then moving it to settle closer to you than it was before.

The man flashes a smile as you reel at his compliment, and you linger your touch on his shoulder just long enough to peak his interest. Slowly bringing your hand back to your legs, you respond, “I’m here for the same thing as just about everyone else - a job.” You bat your eyes and smile, as you bring your drink back up to your lips, hovering before you take a sip to ask, “Do you know how I could get a good paying job with the guild as an outsider? I’m new to Navarro, but I’m just passing through looking for work,” you say just softly enough to get the man to lean in even further. You take another long sip, maintaining his gaze.

“I’m not really supposed to say,” the man trails, pausing for a moment, entranced by your presence. You narrow your eyes slightly, willing him to bend.

“The guild only allows outsiders to take jobs at the recommendation of a member,” he says after you slowly move your hand to his knee, still not breaking your gaze on him. You feel Han’s eyes intensify behind you.

“The guild is handing out jobs in 20 minutes three doors south of here. Tell them that Kain Malo sent you, they’ll let you pick from the highest paying gigs,” the man tells you, short of breath because of your touch. You smile at him.

”Kain Malo?” you ask, “Is that your name?” The man smiles and nods, as he takes a sip from his drink. You shift your gaze from his eyes to his mouth and back to his eyes. “It’s the perfect name for a man as handsome as yourself,” you say, hoping to get more out of him. After a moment, you add, “When I get a good gig, I won’t forget your kindness,” sliding your hand up his leg a bit and slowly returning it to his knee. You feel his breath get short and you smile. “I’ll be sure to give you a nice cut as commission.”

“What is your name?” Kain asks, flustered by your advances.

“Nadya,” you smile, giving him a false identity. You extend a hand for him to shake, saying sweetly, “It’s getting late, I should get to the guild meeting.”

“Nadya…” Kain says softly, grabbing your hand and placing it back on his knee, “I’m staying here, at the inn attached to this bar. Room 319. Once you get that job, why don’t you come back and celebrate with me? We could talk about that commission,” Kain trails, his gaze turning seductive. You smile, standing up from the barstool and bringing your hand to rest on his face, softly grazing your thumb over his lips.

“It’ll be a big commission,” you whisper, leaning in so only Kain and your mic can hear. “You know I’m good for it,” you say softly, dragging your hand down his face and to his arm, beginning your walk towards the cantina’s entrance. You turn your head to look at Kain one last time, winking at him before turning to continue walking.

“You two got all of that?” you ask softly over the comm as you walk past the empty booth where Han and Chewie were no longer seated.

“We’re on our way to the guild now,” Han huffs over the comm.

“You’re good at this,” Chewie growls over the comm, his voice cloaked in awe.

“Let’s plan to meet back at the Falcon in an hour or so,” you announce over the comm, turning to find the Navarro Union headquarters. “I need to turn my comm off for a bit, but I will check in when I’m on my way back,” you say.

“Whatever,” says an annoyed Han. You switch your comm off as you walk down the stairs to the Union’s headquarters.

------

You slip through the back of the room of the Union’s headquarters, being careful not to distract from the dealing of missions that have already started. While you couldn’t accept any due to your probation, you wanted to make contacts at this location for future use.

Shit. Your side reminds you of its injury. You are in the most pain you’ve ever felt. After the assignments are over, you’ll go see the Union nurses.

Watching the slides of targets get dealt out among the members, you shudder when the last target is introduced. It’s Kain, the man you just swindled back at the cantina.

“This final target is at the top of the most wanted list for the Union of Navarro. We’ve confirmed he is currently on-planet but do not know much more about his whereabouts or what he plans to do,” the Sister continues. You stand up, requesting to interject.

“Excuse me, Sister. My name is Y/N, I’m a Union member from Tatooine, recently turned interplanetary. My member ID is K-2199.” The Sister nods, allowing you to continue. “I made contact with this target about 10 minutes ago in the cantina down the road. From our conversation, he is under the impression I will be joining him in his inn suite later tonight. I have no intentions of visiting him, as I gave him a false identity and only needed him to tell me the location of the guild meeting,” you say, aware the entire room has turned to your attention. “I cannot accept a mission at this time, but I have his location - room 319 of the inn attached to the cantina. You can use my false identity as an alibi for getting close to him. I told him my name was Nadya.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Damasa, you will lead this mission. We must act quick, form a team with Sister Lor to make a plan,” the Sister says. “That will be all for missions tonight, please stay around if you wish. Y/N, will you come see me?”

You make your way to the front of the room, being greeted by smiling members and choruses of thank yous. When you reach the Sister, she takes your hands.

“Sister Carrie informed the interplanetary council of your updated status as a member. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, and even more thankful for the information you gathered about the target. Is there anything you require while you are on Navarro?” the Sister asks, with genuine appreciation in her face.

“Thank you for such a warm welcome,” you say. “I sustained a bad injury several days ago, and was hoping to meet with a Union nurse if possible.”

“Of course, right this way,” the Sister says, ushering you to the medical corridor.

----

“Well, Y/N, it looks like you have three broken ribs and severe bruising. I’m glad you came in when you did,” the nurse says, giving you a concerned smile. “I think the best course would be a bacta shot.”

You wince. Bacta shots, though the most effective medicine, are also the most intense of remedies. You agree to the nurse’s suggestion, and she prepares the shot.

“I heard about what happened to you on Tatooine,” the nurse says, distracting you as she injects the shot just below your ribs in your abdomen. “I also heard that your injury was nothing compared to what that trooper got,” she smiles, impressed by you.

“He got it much worse, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, as you pull your shirt back down over your ribs.

“Now, this shot has some side effects,” the nurse cautions, as she disposes of the syringe. “It’s going to start affecting you in about thirty minutes. You might feel dizzy, maybe feel a bit of a high. You shouldn’t operate any machinery or drink any alcohol. The best way to endure the side effects is to go to sleep. You understand?”

“Yes,” you agree, this was not the first time you had a bacta shot. The nurse grabs a few supplies and throws them in a bag, handing it to you.

“What is this?” you ask, seeing she had given you four bacta shots, an assortment of bandages, and some other medicines. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can. You are one of this Union’s best fighters. Now, more than ever, you need to be protected,” she says, earnestly. “Is there anything else we can help you with?” “Thank you,” you smile, doubting her compliment is remotely true. The best Union fighters wouldn’t be on probation. “I’d like to purchase something from the armory. I’ve recently joined a crew of smugglers and think it’s time to get something a bit more serious than my staff,” you chuckle.

The nurse leads you to the armory, where you pick out a small hand knife and a belt. You attach the belt just under your chest, with the knife in it’s slot at the center of your back. You cover your new weapon with your shirt and pay the fee to the armory.

You thank the members for their kindness, and start your journey back to the Falcon, hoping you get there before the side-effects of your shot kick in. You check the communicator for any messages you missed from Han or Chewie. There weren’t any, so you go back online to send an update.

“I’m back online. Be back at the ship in five minutes,” you click over the comm. You don’t get a response. You figure the two were still bargaining for a job and you’d beat them back to the Falcon.

------------

“You’re late,” Han huffs, not even looking up at you as you enter the common room. Chewie is seated next to him at the game table, seeming happy to see you.

“What do you mean? I didn’t think we had anywhere to be,” you ask, genuinely confused at Han’s hostility.

“You said we’d meet back here in an hour. You’re late,” Han says, still not meeting your eyes. You check your watch. You’re six minutes past the suggested rendezvous time.

“Six minutes, Solo. I’m six minutes past a loose timeframe I set,” you say, matching his annoyed mood. “Was the lead right?” you ask the two of them, hoping there was some good news.

“Yes, we got the highest paying job. A delivery to Han’s friend,” Chewie growled proudly.

“That’s great,” you respond, genuinely happy you were able to help out your crew.

“Not great,” Han huffs, standing from the table, finally meeting your gaze.

“But, Chewie said it was the highest paying and it’s for a friend? That seems like the perfect job,” you say, furrowing your brows together at Han.

“He’s not my friend,” Han says, pausing for a moment as if to determine who this person was to him. “It’s complicated. But I know he’s going to try to shortchange us. It’s not an easy job.” Han breaks your gaze and paces over to the desk across the room.

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’ve dealt with Lando thousands of times, we can do it again,” Chewie grumbles. “I’m going to bed,” he announces a moment later, giving you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into his quarters.

You set the bag of supplies the Union gave you down on the game table, looking in Han’s direction trying to get a read on him. He’s sitting in the desk chair with his back to you. His left ankle is resting on his right knee, while his hand holds his chin. He’s clearly thinking about… something. Suddenly, without warning, Han shoots up from the chair and storms to the cockpit. The mechanic squeak of the cockpit door opening and closing echoes through the Falcon.

You roll your eyes, and start to head to your room. You stop before pushing the door open, and turn quickly on your heel. You march after Han and fling the door to the cockpit open. Han jumps in his seat but does not turn to face you.

“Hey!” you yell. “Want to tell me what that was about, Solo?” you ask angrily. You’re not sure why him being a jerk set you off. Maybe it’s because he was rude, maybe it was the bacta shot rushing through your veins, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t even say thank you for getting him the information he needed.

“I don’t want to talk, Y/N. I’m in a bad mood,” Han huffs, still not facing you. You move to the front of the cockpit in between the pilot chairs to be in his sight.

“Good, I’m going to talk then,” you huff back. “Did I do something to piss you off? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you should be thanking me for getting you the information you needed to get the highest paying job on this planet.”

You’re livid. You don’t even care that he didn’t say thank you. You’re more upset about being subjected to his rollercoaster of emotions - a ride you’d rather not be on. Han’s eyes finally dare to meet yours.

“I told you, I don’t want to talk,” Han says gruffly, shooting up, turning to the side wall of the cockpit to mess with some buttons. You follow him to the side, staying in the center aisle of the cockpit, but still within range of his sight if he dared to look at you again.

“It seems my intelligence gathering skills will be feeding us for the next month,” you shoot at him, wanting to strike a nerve.

You were looking for an answer to what you did wrong. The only way to get that out of him was to push him. Han quickly turned around to face you, a look of bewilderment painted on his face.

“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit,” Han sneers, stepping closer to you. “Your skills,” he mumbles, shaking his head, meeting your eyes once again. “It seems like all it took for that guy to bend is a pretty face willing to sleep with him.” Han huffs, taking another step towards you, allowing only inches between your bodies. “Judging from the fact you turned off your comm for an hour, and, not to mention, the look of satisfaction in your eyes, seems like all it took for you to bend was a little sweet talk.”

It feels like a balloon is swelling in your chest, ready to pop. You are angry - no, upset? - that Han would even think you would be so reckless to sleep with someone while they were off job hunting based on information you gave them. Han stands in front of you, not moving, set in his convictions.

“You’re one to talk!” you yell at him. “Fuck you,” you whisper after a moment, shoving him back as you take a few steps towards the door of the cockpit.

“Tell me I’m wrong, then,” Han taunts, stopping you in your tracks and causing you to turn around. Regaining your voice, you catch his eyes.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, remember?” you hiss, bringing up the only condition that you really cared about.

Han rolls his eyes, his body language tensing more.

“You really think that little of me? That I would be so naive to sleep with a strange man I just met on a planet I’ve never been to before?” you shoot at him.

You shake your head, laughing, at how dumb this fight is. Han looks at you, confused. Your expression turns serious once more.

“You might think you know me, Solo. Like every other man in this entire galaxy, you must think that I’m a flirt, that I’m easy, that I’d sleep with the first guy to call me beautiful,” you pause, watching your words pain him. “I don’t care if that’s what you think of me. I care that you would think I’d turn off my comms for-” you pause for a second, before changing directions. “I need you to know that I’m in this. I’m part of the crew. You and Chewbacca are my priorities. I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

Han watches you for a second. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but closes it again. You sigh. You’re not sure what you want from him at this point.

“I need you to tell me when I piss you off. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” you say, softly. Han says nothing. There’s nothing left to say. You turn on your heel and leave the cockpit, retreating to your room.

----

Han stands in the cockpit, looking at the place where you just told him off. He didn’t know why he was in such a bad mood. You were right, tonight was a success. After a moment of processing, he decides to go after you.

He stops cold at your door. What am I going to say?, he thinks, taking a step back from your room.

“What are you doing?” you ask, faintly. Han turns around to see you sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch.

“What are you doing?” he asks, crouching down next to you, a look of worry across his face. “Why are you on the ground?”

“I couldn’t make it to the couch,” you say, trying to adjust yourself to sit up straighter. The bacta was working, alright. You tried to make it to your bed, but you felt dizzy and needed to sit. The ground seemed like the best place to go. “You didn’t answer my question, Solo.”

Han smiled slightly, though his eyes were still worried.

“I didn’t get to ask- I wanted to know how your side was,” he said, stumbling over his words. He gently starts to untuck your shirt from your pants, careful not to accidentally brush your bruises. You catch his hand before he can lift your shirt.

“Stop,” you say. “I can do it.”

Han moves back slightly, giving you room to move. You unbuckle your new weapons belt from under your shirt, placing it on the couch behind you. Han’s eyebrows raise, curious as to how long you’ve had that.

“It’s new,” you shrug, answering his question.

You use Han’s shoulder to help you stand. Han carefully spots you until he’s sure you can stand by yourself. You turn to face him, lifting your shirt just enough to show the blotchy yellow bruise that shows you’re healing. Han’s eyebrows furrow as he examines your side, noticing the point where the bacta shot was injected, softly brushing his thumb across your side. You reel at the touch; not because it is painful, but because it is dangerous. You quickly lower your shirt, forcing Han’s hand off of your skin.

“A bacta shot?” Han asks quietly, meeting your eyes, realizing his judgement of your satisfied look was from the medicine and not a one night stand.

“Guess you figured out where I was tonight,” you huff, grabbing your weapons belt and starting to walk across the room to your door.

“Y/N…,” Han falters. You feel his gaze on you and your stomach churns.

“It doesn’t matter, Solo,” you say, pausing briefly before entering your room, locking the door behind you.

Falling into your bed for the night, you can still feel his touch on your stomach. You touch the spot a few times, making sure his finger wasn’t still there. The pit in your stomach grows, sending a warmth through your body, aching for Han.

No, you think. This can’t happen.

“Sister Carrie, may I speak with you for a moment?” you ask, hoping to deflect some of the stares from your peers. You approach the front to speak with the Sister. She looks tired, distraught even.

“You must know, we had to punish you to such an extreme. You had to be an example for the others,” Sister Carrie offers, somewhat apologetically.

“I understand, Sister,” you say, solemnly.

“You are one of the greatest warriors our Union has. It would be inappropriate to let your actions go unpunished. Although, I hear that this man had it coming, and it would be rude of me to not acknowledge the great service you provided to the community today,” Sister Carrie continues.

“So, I was caught on a technicality, then,” you state blandly, more than you ask.

“No, dear, it was more than just a mere technicality, and you know it,” Sister Carrie corrects.

You know she’s right. You didn’t have to say anything to him. You were right to fight back, you were wrong to reveal the details of the mission. You were so overcomed by the moment, by the trooper’s sinistry, that you couldn’t help yourself.

“I was offered a job, off-planet, as part of a cargo crew. I wasn’t going to take it. But I’m starting to think I should,” you say softly, as Sister Carrie looks at you with caring eyes. “I wanted to ask you about how it would work to be an interplanetary Union member. I think my skills would be valuable on more planets than just Tatooine.”

“My dear, I’ve been waiting for the day you ask me about this. I’m saddened it comes today, after such a difficult decision to place you on probation. Nevertheless, this is your path.”

----

“She’s not coming, Chewie,” Han sighs, pressing his drink to his lips. The two have been camped out all day in the cantina, hoping you would show up. It was late afternoon, and the clock was ticking. There was only about an hour left until sunset, two at most.

“Give her time,” Chewie urged, trying more to convince himself there was still a chance for her to show up than Han.

“Oh, get a grip. There’s not much time left, Chewie,” Han said, accepting defeat.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much about someone he just met two days ago. Ever since he laid eyes on Y/N, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The duo sulked in their booth, looking down at their drinks. If Y/N hadn’t sat down at the booth, they would have completely missed her.

“I have questions,” you stated, waving over the waitress to ask for a drink. Han and Chewie jolted up, startled by your presence. “Conditions, too.”

“Anything you want, you’ve got it,” Chewie exclaimed, happy you had decided to show. A wave of relief rushed over Han as he sat across from you, trying to convince himself that you were really there.

“Hold up, fur ball. Let’s hear her demands before we throw out bargaining altogether,” Han said, not hiding his excitement very well. You took a slow sip out of her glass, carefully catching their gaze - first Chewie, then Han. Han’s stomach started to churn. He was willing to agree to anything to get you on the crew, but he wasn’t ready to reveal that just yet.

“Okay,” you say, setting down your drink carefully. “First is responsibilities. I can do pretty much anything you might need a crewmate to do except pilot. I’ll cook meals, I’ll clean quarters, I don’t know the kind of wiring or mechanics the Falcon has but I’m a quick learner and have experience in repairs.” You look between the duo again before proceeding, making sure to note any changes in their expression. “I will not be joining in on your smuggling unless it is advantageous to me. I speak several languages. I am good at getting information from people - they tend to offer it to me. I would be willing to help on any job to that extent. Anything further, I’d need to consider. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fine so far, but I’m guessing there’s more,” Han said, shooting a knowing look at Chewbacca. You grab the base of your glass and spin it a couple times before taking a sip. Han tenses in his seat, watching your glass rise to meet your lips.

“Second, conditions,” you say, as you set your glass back down on the table. “I’d like my own private space on the ship. Preferably a room with a door, but I would take a corner if that was all you had. I don’t mind sharing other things, I just want my own space to sleep.”

“We have a spare room on board. No one’s slept in it in years, so it might need some sprucing up, but it’s yours,” Han says, agreeing to your first condition, wondering how many more you were going to introduce.

“Good,” you nod. “I’d also like some sort of allowance. It doesn’t have to be much, and it doesn’t have to be a share of your jobs. I’d just like enough to buy small items and maybe save some of it away,” you say, glancing between the two again.

“That’s a given. What’s your next condition?” asks Han, more seriously than before. There isn’t a single condition he wouldn’t agree to, same with Chewbacca.

“Final condition. I am not going to be sitting on the ship twiddling my thumbs when you two are out on a job. Of course, I’ll stay back when you need me to or if I have repairs to make, but I plan to venture out into whatever city we are in,” you say, pausing before you continue cautiously. “I need you to not ask questions about what I do or where I go or who I’m with, aside from emergencies or things I choose to offer.”

This was the most important condition. The answer to this would be the determining factor of whether or not you would be able to still work for the Union and live up to the oath. Han glances and Chewie, who gives him a nod.

“That’s something we agree to. But, I have to warn you, Chewie is so nosy, so that might not always be avoided,” Han says sincerely, clearly joking about Chewie, who gives him a disgruntled look.

“So we agree then, on everything?” you ask, making sure your arrangement is final.

“Yes. You are officially part of the crew,” Chewie grunts happily. Han gives you a smile and shakes your hand.

“Good, because Rella and Brendol are outside with my belongings and it would have been a pain to unpack everything,” you say with a smirk.

----

“So, that’s basically the lay of the land. Here is your room. I’m right next door, which you should be grateful for. Chewie is a big snorer, so it’s a good thing his room is next to the cockpit,” Han says, leaning on the doorframe, watching you as you take in your new quarters. “What do you think?”

“It’s great, thank you,” you say, placing your bags on the cot. The room had potential. Han was right, it definitely needs some major sprucing up. But it was all yours, and you couldn’t help but reel with excitement about your new adventure.

“Right, let’s get a move on,” Han says, turning to walk to the cockpit. “It’s going to take the better part of two days to get this delivery to Navarro. Once the cargo is delivered and we get paid, we’re going to have to figure out where to get a high paying job with the guild. They aren’t always too welcoming to smugglers.”

You buckle into your seat behind Chewbacca, carefully watching Han click on a series of buttons to prepare the Falcon for takeoff.

“I could help you find information about jobs on Navarro,” you offer. “If we can find a cantina the guild hangs out in, I’m sure I could find someone to tell me how to get a good job.”

Han turns slightly to look at you, then turns to Chewie.

“Not even an hour into being a crew member and she already is willing to talk to the Navarro guild,” he chuckles. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

After a few minutes of takeoff, the Falcon is ready to launch into hyperspeed. You have never flown at hyperspeed before. The one time you flew off-planet only required enough fuel to travel a planet over. Now, you are about to travel systems away. As the Falcon revved into hyperspeed, your eyes widened. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. With stars lighting up the cabin, Han and Chewie unbuckled.

“We can move around now,” Chewie informed you, clearly entertained by your amazement.

“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” you say, mostly to yourself.

“You get used to it,” Han said softly, tossing a rag into the bin under the main board.

“I doubt it,” you say, still in awe. After a moment, you announce, “I think I’ll go unpack.”

“I’ll take the first shift, Han,” Chewie says, much to Han’s delight.

----

After what feels like hours of cleaning and unpacking in your quarters, you venture back up to the cockpit to find Chewie.

“Will you tell me what all these buttons mean?” you ask Chewie, settling into the co-pilot’s chair for a better view.

Chewie explains each button, though you’re not quite sure what they all mean. He begins to quiz you on it when you are interrupted by Han.

“What are you doing up there? That’s my chair,” he grumbles to you, not trying to hide his annoyance.

“Stop being so weird about your chair, Solo,” Chewie grumbles back. “I was just showing her the controls.”

“It’s fine, Chewie,” you say, addressing the Wookiee, and ignoring Han. “I should get started on some of my tasks,” you say as you rise from Han’s chair and squeeze past him to leave the cockpit.

Han shoots Chewie a confused look as Chewie shakes his head in disapproval. After a moment, Han ventures out to find you. You are fixing one of the leaking pipes in the south bay when he finds you.

“Look, I didn’t mean to…”

“Be a jerk?” you offer, not meeting his eyes, still slightly annoyed by his childish behavior. This was the Han Solo you thought you’d get. The past two days of niceties were apparently a rarity. You felt him still standing there, so you looked up from what you were doing. “What do you want, Solo?”

“I apologized, I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Han shoots back, absorbing your annoyed mood as his own.

“I think I must have missed where you apologized,” you drone, putting all your effort into not showing any more emotion to him. “You don’t need to apologize, I just won’t sit in your chair anymore. Noted,” you say, poking your index finger on your temple. “And I’m not upset, I’m genuinely trying to do my tasks.”

“Fine,” Han says, still not moving. He watches you as you return your attention to closing the leaky valve. Though you struggle a bit, you eventually fix the pipe. He’s still there. Watching.

“What?” you sigh. You don’t like how much influence he has over your emotions. You’ve only known him for three days and it’s already so hot and cold with him.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he murmurs. “It’s not easy.”

“Maybe that’s intentional,” you huff, placing the tools back in the metal box.

“I keep thinking about yesterday. What you said to that trooper. How you said he came back for a second round. You had planned to fight him in the cantina, or at least interact with him, didn’t you?” Han says, thinking out loud. “He was a target of some kind.”

Ugh. You were really regretting saying another word to that trooper. First probation, and now Han’s peaked interest.

“He’s a bully. I don’t like bullies. Simple as that,” you say, nonchalantly.

You pick up the toolbox and try to move past Han. He stops you from moving any further. His shoulders are so broad that he blocks the doorway without even trying. He is facing you straight on, your eyes meeting him.

“I don’t think it's as simple as that. Nothing about you seems simple,” he says softly.

He holds your gaze for a moment before finally moving to the side, letting you go to your next task. A pit grows in your stomach as you walk to the other end of the ship. It’s a feeling you don’t like to welcome often. You do your best to shake it off, and focus your energy into completing what tasks you can in peace.

----

You don’t see anyone until dinner, which consists of freeze dried leftovers. Not much is said - a result of a long three days. The quiet is nice; you never realized how quiet space could be. With no conversation or noise to distract you, you are keenly aware that your side radiates pain. Han and Chewie don’t seem to notice, which is just as well for you. You’d rather not think about your injury, let alone allow it to attract the attention of your crewmates. After dinner, Chewie goes to sleep and Han takes watch over the cockpit for the night. You return to your quarters for a bit, waiting until it becomes quieter before deciding to run a few laps.

Not even a day into probation and I’m already bored.

Running is exactly what you need, especially since you finished the majority of the maintenance work for the entire travel period in the first few hours. You sneak out of your room, careful not to make too much noise. Space is cold. You aren’t used to that. You look down at your side, which is now turning the same shade of deep blue as your top. Starting off slowly so as to not agitate the pain from your ribs, you quickly realize that the only time running inflames the injury is when you twist your torso. Otherwise, you can run just as well as you could before.

Immersing yourself in your workout, you lose count after a few laps around the Falcon. You are so focused on your breathing and your footwork that you don’t hear the cockpit door shoot open.

“What the hell are you running from?!” grumbles an annoyed Han. You stop short, sending a ripple of pain through your ribs, causing you to retract over your legs, hugging you side, moaning slightly.

“You scared me, oh my stars,” you groan, gently rubbing your side as you remain bent over your legs. Han stands there impatiently. As you stand back up, his face goes pale.

“Shit, Y/N. Look at your side,” he says softly.

The light from the Falcon illuminates your discolored ribcage, revealing an assortment of bruising colors. Han gently grabs the bottom of your shirt, lifting it gingerly to see the trail of color extend up to your chest. Before you can swat his hand away, he gently tugs the top of your waistband down to see the color continues down towards your hips.

“Solo, stop,” you wince, carefully taking a step back until he releases your garments.

The soft snap of your waistband on your skin sends a ripple of pain through your bones. Han quickly walks to the common room and you follow.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as he grabs a bag from under the couch. He unzips the bag and pulls out a syringe. A bacta shot. “No...Solo. I-I don’t want that,” you refuse, already realizing what he’s going to try to do.

“Y/N, you need it. Please let me,” he says, insistently, his eyes growing with worry. “I haven’t ever seen a hit get this badly bruised,” he says quietly.

“Solo, that’s your last bacta shot. You need to save it. I’m fine… That bastard just hit me in the same spot twice,” you say, wincing as you remember the blows. “It’s just a bruised rib - worst case scenario it’s broken. Most people with this injury don’t do anything but give it time. It’ll heal in a few weeks and the bruising will go down in a couple days,” you say sincerely, trying to put on a convincing face.

Han frowns, but he puts the syringe back in the bag and zips it up.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You look at him confused. “What the hell were you running from?” You roll your eyes.

“I was jogging, trying to pass the time. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you say, searching his face trying to get a better read on him. After a moment with no response from Han, you continue. “Luckily for you, I’m going to sleep.”

You start to walk to the door of your room when Han’s hand catches your arm. He turns you around and you meet his gaze.

“You tell me the minute you change your mind about that shot. I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he says seriously. His rough hand firmly gripping your bicep sends shivers down your back. Just as quickly as he grabbed your arm he dropped it, walking back to the cockpit, leaving you feeling a way you haven’t felt in a long time - aroused.

That night, you toss back and forth, convincing yourself that Han is off limits, for many reasons. Well, for two big reasons: he’s your crewmate, and you took an oath to the Union.

Yet, you find yourself getting more flustered by the moment. You relive the past three days, and all the times he’s watched you with those piercing brown eyes. Those things he told you in Brandol’s shop - how you deserve more - what he told you today in the bay - that there’s nothing simple about you. You try to shake the thoughts from your mind, but it’s no use. It’s nothing, this infatuation. Han Solo is arrogant and rude. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of liking him in any other way but professional.

The trooper reaches for his blaster, aiming to shoot at you. Before he can even turn off the safety, you’ve kicked it out of his hands. The trooper lunges for it, regaining whatever was left of his balance. You reach for it too, sending it flying down the street without even touching it.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a fair fight,” you say as you bat your eyes.

“Jedi scum,” huffs the trooper, standing now, ready to charge you.

He hits your side - in the same exact place he struck you last night - and you topple to the ground. Okay, that time I definitely heard a crack. Without a second thought, you spring back up to catch his fist, flipping him to the ground and pinning him down with all the strength left in your body in one motion.

“I’m no Jedi. A Jedi would show mercy. You won’t be getting any of that from me. I know who you are, TK-079. I know everything about you. You’re a bully. I hate bullies,” you sneer at him, fear growing on his face.

You reach for the blaster again, and it comes flying into your hand like a moth to light. You slam the butt of it up onto his chin, in the same place as last night. An eye for an eye, you think, as you start to feel the pain bubble up in your side, this time at a higher intensity. The trooper is knocked out cold. For a moment, you feel peace.

Han and Chewbacca come running up to you. Shit. How much of that did they hear?

“Seems like he came back for round two really thinking he would win,” Chewie chuckled. You look up at him, noticing the noise beginning to resume on the street as people come out from their hiding.

“Can you pick him up for me?” you ask Chewie, not wanting to draw any more attention to the fight that just played out. Chewbacca hoists the trooper over his shoulder. “Through there,” you point at the tunnel leading to an alley. Han stays put, still processing what he just witnessed. “Solo, come on,” you urge, picking up the trooper’s blaster and tugging on Han’s sleeve.

----

“Well, I’m starting to think I need to practice my combat a little more, what do you think Chewie?” Han dramatically announces as the three of you and the unconscious trooper enter the alley.

“You can put him down right here, thank you,” you tell Chewbacca, ignoring Han’s comment. “Solo, destroy the blaster, down there,” you instruct, handing Han the gun and pointing further down the alley. He looks at you with a face of bewilderment.

“You want me to destroy this perfectly fine blaster? No. No, I can’t do that, that would be sacrilegious. Clearly, you won that fight, you should keep it,” Han rebuttals, extending the blaster to you.

“No, I don’t want it. I don’t like guns. Destroy it, or keep it - whatever, I want it out of my sight,” you grunt, as you try to figure out which door in the alley belongs to the Resistance.

You know the mission already went sideways, it would be too risky to let the trooper get away again. Just deliver him to Resistance officers to arrest, and then deal with whatever consequence the Union is sure to dream up.

“Wha- You don’t like guns? I don’t get you. You go and pick fights with stormtroopers and then won’t even use a gun? That’s all they know how to do -- point and shoot!” Han says, bewilderedly. He shudders. “I don’t want to keep the blaster of a dead stormtrooper.”

“He’s not dead!” you whisper-shout at him. “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard, but I do not go picking fights with stormtroopers,” you huff. “Chewie, can you destroy the blaster?”

Chewbacca and Han move further down the alley to deal with the gun as you knock on the door of the Resistance office. You explain what happened to the Resistance officer and they gratefully take the unconscious man into custody. Venturing down the alley, you find Chewbacca and Han hovered over the smoking blaster.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” you huff, as you squeeze past them to reemerge on the main street.

“A perfectly good blaster,” Han mumbles, following you to the street with Chewie right behind.

“What were you two even doing over here, the cantina isn’t remotely close,” you ask annoyedly, wondering what stars-forsaken reason you had company on a botched mission. Not botched. Just... improvised.

“We’re looking for a new junkyard to find parts at. Han got us banned from our usual dealer,” Chewbacca growls, clearly annoyed with Han.

“It was not my fault! That guy was a lunatic. Trying to upsell pieces of junk,” Han argued back.

“My roommate’s friend owns a junkyard near my house. I’ll show you. I can probably get you a good deal… a sort of thank you for helping me back there,” you offer, genuinely thankful there was at least someone with the muscle power to help bring the trooper out of the street. Even without an injured side, you would have struggled to do it yourself.

Argh, my side. The pain swells up. You look down to see the exposed skin peeking out of your top become even more discolored, and hope that it will subside in a couple days.

----

The three of you walk up the street leading to the junkyard in silence. Estrella, although part of the Union, seems to take the attachment rule with a grain of salt. She has been secretly dating Brendol, who owns the junkyard you are taking Han and Chewie to. Brendol is a piece of work. You can’t fathom why Estrella would break this rule for him.

“Hi Brendol, I brought you some business,” you announce as you enter the shop, the bell above the door chiming. Brendol looks up from his book, underwhelmed. “This is Chewbacca and Han Solo. They’re looking for some parts.” Turning to Han and Chewie, you gesture to the yard. “I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“Do you speak Wookiee?” Chewbacca asks Brendol, who looks somewhat more enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Brendol responds, somewhat relieved when he realizes he’ll only have to deal with Chewbacca as Han stays back in the shop. Word seemed to have gotten around about Han’s scuffle with the other junkyard owner.

Making your way to the opposite side of the shop from Han, you begin tinkering with parts of a droid that needs repair. Han’s gaze is steady on you as you work with your back to him. You feel him just standing there. Watching you.

“Enjoying the view?” you ask annoyed, as you turn to meet his gaze from across the shop. He continues to stare as you work with the parts in your hand. You walk to the counter where he is leaning, purposefully placing yourself with as much distance the tiny shop will allow between you.

“What do you want?” you finally huff, placing the parts down on the counter with a clang. You don’t dare meet his eyes. He’s already gotten to know you enough in the past 24 hours than anyone else has.

“Just… thinking,” Han responds coyly. “You know, Chewie and I were talking. You’re a great fighter. You clearly know what you're doing around parts,” he says, gesturing to the droid you’ve nearly fixed. “Chewie told me a few other things about you, too.”

“Like what?” you ask, trying to sound bored rather than panicked. You finally turn to meet his gaze. He hasn’t stopped looking at you since the three of you arrived at the junkyard.

“Like how you’re loyal, how you have so much more to offer than what this crummy planet deserves...,” he trails. “How you should join us on the Falcon’s crew.” You freeze. He can’t be serious.

“You’re crazy, Solo. You don’t even know me and you're asking me to fly away with you?”

“With us. It was Chewie’s idea,” he clarifies. “You’re right, I don’t know you. But Chewie knows you enough to trust you and that says a lot to me.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating what to say next. “I know you don’t know me, but Chewie trusts me. So that must mean something to you, too,” Han argues. You search his gaze for some sort of sign as to why he’s asking you. You come up with nothing.

“What do you do?” Han asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“What?”

“What do you do for a living? Here on Tatooine. What do you do?” Han asks.

“I’m a daycare teacher,” you respond. He laughs.

“Right. I’m supposed to believe you're a teacher? None of my teachers ever knew how to throw a punch like you do,” Han says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I learned how to fight when I was a waitress a few years back,” you say, not completely lying. Maz thought it would be good for you to know how to fight when you got your first job working in the cantina. “You don’t have to believe anything I say,” you continue, “But of all the jobs I could lie about having, why would I choose being an underpaid teacher?”

“Fine,” Han says, putting his hands up in the air as a surrender. “I believe you. I just don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth,” Han falters, as if he’s considering whether or not to say what he says next. “I just think someone like you is wasting your potential staying here. Come with us or don’t, that’s up to you. But this planet… this planet doesn’t deserve you.”

Han holds your gaze, a little longer than you would like. The shouting match between Chewie and Brendol ends the moment as quickly as it came.

“Y/N, would you tell your friend the Wookiee that I will not go lower than 400 credits for these parts,” Brendol whines as he returns to his spot behind the counter.

“Y/N, you tell this puny man that he knows that price is bullshit,” Chewbacca cries, carrying a load of parts in his arms to the counter. Han leans himself against the doorframe, entertained that you are put in the middle of Chewie’s bargaining negotiations instead of him.

“Brendol, come on. 400 credits? Cut it down to 200, I’m cashing in on my favor,” you say firmly, planting your hands on the counter so you face him square on.

“What favor do I owe you for exactly?” Brendol sneers, certain you have nothing of value for him to fold on.

“Two months ago, you told Rella you were going to visit your mother on Corellia, but I know for a fact and have evidence that you went to Canto Bight and spent all of your savings on gambling. I haven’t told Rella because I care too much about her, but I’m starting to think it might be better for her to know…,” you counter, knowing this is enough for him to fold.

Brendol pauses, seeming to process the information you just told him. Han and Chewie exchange an entertained look.

“Fine, 200 credits,” Brendol grunts.

“150, I just fixed this droid,” you shoot back, hitting a wire that makes the D-O unit reel to life. Brendol looks defeated but agrees. Chewie cries a coo of delight, happily paying 150 credits for the parts he needs.

“See ya later, Brendol!” you sing, as you leave the shop, passing by an impressed Han Solo on your way through the door.

As the pair meets you outside of the shop, you know this is goodbye. As tempting of an offer Han made, it is not enough to get you to leave Tatooine. Not wanting you to decide so quickly, Han places a hand on your shoulder.

“Just think about what I said. We leave tomorrow at sunset.”

You nod, with your mind already made up and turn to give Chewie a hug. You watch for a moment as they walk away, back through town and to their ship. You sigh, as you know your day is far from over. Rough day.

“Okay, Rella, is the plan clear?” you ask, turning your attention back to your friend. “We’ll split up the group long enough for the tracking devices to attach themselves, and get these scumbags kicked out of the cantina. I’ll engage first and signal you to come over,” you confirm. 

Estrella nods, agreeing to the plan you had theorized for a few days now. It wasn’t everyday you were going to take on four stormtroopers, let alone uniform-less ones. Their rank in the Imperial Army didn’t have much of an impact on your nerves - at the end of the day, like most powerful men, their weakness is a pretty face in a crowded cantina.

As you make your way over to the bar where two of the troopers are camped out, you subtly nod at Chewie who was walking back to join Han at their booth. Chewie is the only creature in this galaxy that knows your affiliation with the Union. He brought you back to Union headquarters when your mission, though successful, went sideways and left you with the worst injury of your life. 

Chewie pledged to you that he would never reveal your affiliation, but that was not without scolding from the Sisters. You were put on probation for two weeks for revealing your affiliation to an outsider, even though your life depended on it. 

Chewie winked back at you, settling in for the show he knows is about to begin. Squeezing through the crowd, you plant yourself in between your targets. 

“Excuse me,” you say sweetly, batting your eyes at the targets. “What’s a girl got to do around here to get a drink?” The trooper to your left, TK-421 you remember from the mission sheet, catches the attention of the barkeep.

“This attractive woman would like a drink,” he announces to the bartender. 

You smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. Some days it is just too easy. You turn to the barkeep and order your usual, planning to not take a single sip. All part of the ruse.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any men quite as handsome as yourselves in here,” you say, turning to the trooper on your right -- TK-079, you remember. “My friend and I were just arguing over who gets to flirt with who,” you say, gesturing at Estrella giving her the signal. The troopers smirk as Estrella makes her way over to you. 

“Lucky for you ladies, there’s actually two more of us,” TK-079 says, waving the other two troopers over. Seriously, too easy.

“Well, I have dibs on these two,” you say to Estrella, placing your hands on the backs of the troopers at the bar, disengaging the tracking bugs. You make sure to be extra flirty in your touch, running your hands down their backs and back up again, partly to sell that you are actually into them and partly to distract from any movement the tracking bug burrowing into their hair. 

“Fine by me,” Estrella says seductively, linking arms with her targets. Turning to them, she whispers, “I know of a room upstairs where it’s quiet. Care to join me?” 

Just as expected, the other two troopers agree and follow her up the stairs in the back of the cantina, surely to be surprised when the only excitement they get are stunners and Resistance officers ready to arrest them.

“Have fun,” you sing to the trio, turning back to your targets. “So boys, what are we drinking?!” you exclaim flirtatiously, ready to get them even more drunk than they are, being extra handsy to distract them from your game.

-----

“Who was that, who nodded at you?” Han asks, somewhat impatiently, as Chewie sits next to him in the booth. His gaze remains on the woman as she approaches the bar. It’s been a while since Han saw someone as beautiful as her in this dump.

“An old friend,” Chewie coos, not wanting to share so much that Han thinks he might have a chance with her. The last thing Chewie wants is for Han to get in Y/N’s way, especially since it seems like she is on a job.

“Do you have friends other than me?” Han asks, pretending to be hurt for a moment before continuing. “Seriously, I do not believe for a second that a woman as attractive as her would be your friend. No offense.”

“Just drink,” Chewie growls, pushing Han’s glass towards him. They sit in silence for a bit, watching Y/N work the men at the bar, until they see something troubling. While Y/N talks to the man to her right, the man on her left drops something in her drink.

“Chewie, did you just see what that scumbag did to your friend’s drink?!” Han puffs, beginning to rise from the booth. Chewbacca pulls him back down to sit. “What the hell Chewie? We have to do something!”

“Just sit down and watch,” Chewie murmurs back at Han. He didn’t like the looks of this either, but if he knew Y/N at all, she is more than capable of dealing with these scumbags. “She is always lightyears ahead of what’s going on.”

Han huffed and reclined in his seat again, watching the bar intently, not entirely trusting the Wookiee’s judgement on this one.

---- 

After three more rounds of drinks - none of which you touched - the troopers are right where you want them. In the short time it had taken the troopers to drink, you had managed to disarm their blasters and learned the location where they were staying. As you talked to TK-421, you felt the other trooper move. You were careful not to bat an eye and continued to act drunk -- until you heard the plop and fizz of something in your drink. Kneeing TK-421 in the groin, you quickly turned to catch TK-079’s hand still hovering above your glass. Game over.

At this point in the missions you take, something in you switches. Whether it’s pure adrenaline or maybe the Force, you are keenly aware of every person in the room and are able to anticipate every movement.

“You know,” you say darkly to the trooper in front of you, “it’s a shame you decided to do that. I was actually starting to tolerate your company.” 

Swiftly kneeing him in the groin, you grab the back of his neck and slam his head into the bartop. Turning around to deal with the other trooper, you grab his disabled gun before his hand thinks to move and toss it behind the bar.

“What can I say? I like a fair fight,” you smirk at the confused trooper in front of you, kicking his barstool back. 

Using the Force, you send him sliding into the wall of the cantina, knocking him into a dizzying state, enough for him to forget he’s in a fight with you. Estrella rushes down the stairs of the cantina, having successfully completed her part of the mission. She runs up to the trooper you just sent crashing into the wall, keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave her sight.

You turned back to deal with the other trooper, TK-079. Unable to act sooner, you see the butt of the gun hit your ribs before you feel it. Shit. Did I hear a crack? Without paying a second thought to the blow you just endured from the angry trooper, you swiftly knock the blaster out of his hand and forcefully drive it up the bottom of his chin, knocking him out cold.

The silence that fell over the usually lively cantina breaks just as quickly as it came about, and soon every smuggler, drunk, and creature in the bar resumes what they were doing before your fight broke out. The best part about completing missions in the cantina is that stuff like this happens all the time, and nobody bats an eye. 

“Sorry Maz,” you say as you shoot the owner an apologizing glance. “I don’t tolerate anyone who tries to drug me.” Maz smirks, quickly forgetting the chaos. This wasn’t the first time you knocked someone out in front of him, and it certainly will not be the last.

You hoist the freshly unconscious trooper to your side and begin to drag him out to the alley, where everyone kicked out of the cantina exits upon breaking the bar rules -- although rules seems to be far too strong a word for this establishment. Estrella follows with the other trooper, and the two of you slam the door. By this time tomorrow, the Resistance will attack the trooper base these scumbags will lead them to, thanks to the tracking beacons and the work of the Union. 

“Are you alright?” Estrella asks, eyeing your side that you have been unconsciously cradling since the blow. Her worried face snaps you back to the moment, and a rush of pain shoots through you.

“I’ll be fine. Can’t believe I let him strike me like that,” you say, trying to convince yourself more than Estrella that you are alright. “I’ll meet you back at home, I think I need a drink,” you say with a weak smile.

“Fine. I’ll report to the Sisters of Tatooine the mission is completed on my way back. But if I don’t see you in two hours, I’m coming to find you. Stars know that you need rest,” Estrella warns, pointing a finger at you firmly. You nod as you watch her leave the cantina and head in the direction of the Union headquarters.

Scanning the cantina for anyone else looking for trouble, you see Chewbacca and Han Solo watching you intently from their booth. Deciding it would be nice to catch up with Chewie, you make your way over to them, still cradling your side.

“Enjoy the show?” you say with a knowing glance at Chewie, wincing as you sit down.

“You don’t look so good, kid. Better than the last time I saw you, but still not great,” Chewie coos at you, a hint of concern in his low voice. 

“Thanks, Chewie. That’s what everyone wants to hear after a rough day,” you say sarcastically, as you give his furry arm a shove. 

Chewie chuckles and your attention shifts to the man sitting in front of you. You’ve heard the stories about Han before, most of which are action-packed, ending in a near escape from whatever danger he got himself in. His warm brown eyes analyze you, and you suddenly realize you have felt their gaze on you since he arrived.

“That was quite impressive, what you did out there,” Han says, trying hard to mask his excitement, taking a sip from his drink. “I don’t know how you did it, if I were you I don’t think I’d let those guys see another day,” he continues, with a certain genuinity that you could feel was rare for him. “I’m Han Solo, I’m sure Chewie’s mentioned me,” he said, extending a hand out for you to take.

You firmly shake it. “I know who you are, but only because I know your ship...the Millennium Falcon. You did the Kessel run in 15 parsecs, right? Chewie hasn’t mentioned you before, though.” Han’s face drops. 

“12 parsecs. 12,” he grumbles, turning to Chewie. “You said she was a friend of yours, yet you haven’t thought to mention your best friend to her?” Han says, somewhat annoyed, pointing at himself to emphasize that he is the best friend in question. Chewie chuckles, shooting you a proud look, like he’s been waiting for someone else to strike a nerve in his co-pilot all day.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you offer, attempting to dodge the smuggler’s abrasive mood. “Don’t be so hard on Chewie, the last time he saw me, he saved my life. There wasn’t all that much time to catch up.” 

“I’m pretty good at saving lives, I’ve saved Han’s ass multiple times,” Chewie says, adding more fuel to Han’s temper. “Are you okay?” Chewie asks, gesturing to your side that you are still cradling.

“I’ll be fine, just a bad bruising,” you say back. “All in a day,” you smile.

“What were you doing with those guys anyway? I could spot they were pieces of scum a mile away,” Han asks, leaning in, as if your answer would solve a puzzle he’s piecing together in his mind.

“Oh, scum just happens to be my type,” you say, half-wittedly. Han’s face furrows, as if that answer wasn’t enough for him. “How long will you two be in town?” you ask, attempting to change the subject.

“Just long enough to get a good gig from Jabba. Three days at most. Then we’ll be far away from this dump planet,” Han huffs, leaning back in the booth, just enough to kick his boot up over the edge of the table.

“Must be a nice feeling to get away from this place,” you sigh. 

You really did love Tatooine. The people, more than anything. But some days you wish you could leave this place behind and find something bigger in the galaxy to dedicate your time to. Maybe work for the Union on another planet, or even better, work interplanetary. You could easily do it. Estrella tries to convince you all the time. All you would need is a ship, and then learn how to pilot a ship. But between your two jobs, you can barely afford water, let alone an aircraft that could whisk you away to new planets. Realizing it’s been quiet for a bit, you look up to meet Han’s intense gaze, still studying you. Quickly, you turn your attention to Chewie. 

“Before you go, make sure you say goodbye.” Chewie grunts in agreement. “It was nice meeting you, Solo,” you say, offering Han a sincere smile as you rise from the booth. “Try to stay out of trouble,” you wink, as you start to turn towards the cantina door.

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” Han hollers after you, still relaxed in the booth. You turn to keep walking, and feel his gaze on you, unwavering, until you walk through the cantina door.