#flick fic

Hey @erindarroch - it’s easier to respond on here than FFN.  I am on a hiatus from Gravity right now.  Real life is too busy for me to delve into writing world.  However, here’s a teaser from sometime around Chapter 3.  I will pick it up again once things settle down which could be in a week or a couple months.  I will say, I have a real life situation that is mirroring this Han and Leia dynamic so perfectly, so I definitely want to channel my feelings about it into the story soon.

Okay, so I have been thinking about this anon’s question a lot.  And here we go:

I think we write what turns us on, dear anon.  I am a total romantic who has suffered through a lot of unrequited love in my life.  So, I think I get turned on by the idea of a man having heroic (and sometimes neurotic) reasons for fighting his feelings for a woman.  (Cause then all those guys secretly DID love me…)  This isn’t to be like “oh woe is me…” - I have had relationships in the last few years, but when I was growing up and my brain was forming, all of my experiences with love were of the UST variety.  So in some ways, I think that my ability and desire to write that springs naturally from that slant.

But, I am a growth mindset person, not a fixed mindset person, so here are some ideas to jumpstart your UST writing.  I said this to Erin when she was my secret santa: just remember no one least of all Han and Leia wants to be vulnerable (but they also desperately want to be seen and connected with).  Just this basic idea of going to any length and using any rationalization to halt the natural fall into love is the main ingredient of UST.  Luckily, us humans are incredibly neurotic - we can fuck up any situation we find - so you have endless material to draw on.  Just have your characters question and doubt literally every thought they have about the other person.  Or let them have all the romantic thoughts in the world, paragraphs and paragraphs of them, then throw one thought of vulnerability into the mix and watch it fall apart.  

Vulnerable thoughts include extrapolations of “I’m not good enough”, “I’m not safe”, “I’ll get hurt”, “He/she will get hurt”, “I don’t deserve this”, “What if it ends that horrible way that the other thing ended?” and then you layer more palatable excuses on top of those thoughts because no one ever wants to actually even be that vulnerable to themselves.  “I don’t have time for this”, “I’m only here for the money”, “Love is trivial in a time of war”, “They would never like me that way”, “It’s just lust”, “This kiss will open the door to a lot of things I’m not sure I want or am ready for”, “Shit, what if somebody sees?”  Also, they can have heroic thoughts about protecting or respecting the object of their desire that are often just covering up the original thoughts from above.

I think good UST comes down to what the main characters are thinking.  It’s not about the situation stopping them from consummating their love, it’s about their own insecurities and fears stopping them from consummating their love.  Think about in your own life how delicious something feels when it is slightly forbidden - that frisson of knowing you shouldn’t but having an undeniable urge to do it anyway is why I love to write UST.  For me, the tension often goes out of the story once they get together (except for in Never Will I Ever - for some reason even though they were married for two thirds of it, I was able to keep the tension taught and alive for myself.)  The tension is everything, dahling.

Naturally, I’m the last to the party. @lajulie24 this story is for you!  Because I am your Secret Santa.  Tada!  I mixed a proprietary blend of your Secret Santa form, your answers to my asks and your tumblr with whatever I felt like writing!  It was such a treat to write something a little funnier and with a few more supporting characters than I usually work with!  (Also another adorable pairing…)

I hope you enjoy your prezzie as I have certainly enjoyed making it for you!!!

Happy Halloween!!!  This is a Treat Prompt, though it features one Tricky feline.  I changed the prompt a little so that I could set the story Pre-ESB because I live for UST.  (Or I am lazy and that’s what I find easiest to write…)  Also played with a first person Han POV because why the hell not?  Here’s the prompt: 

On a mission to provide aid to Lothal in the aftermath of the Rebels’ victory a Rebel victory, a black Loth-cat keeps crossing Leia’s path, leading Han to wonder at a Corellian superstition he heard as a child.

~~

Shoulda left the Rebels months ago.  Don’t know why I’ve stayed.  Every week, I think, now’s the time.  Pack up the falcon, tell Chewie to can it, and leave.  Fly back into free space, into the only place I’ve ever felt like myself.  

I certainly don’t feel like Han Solo here.  Han Solo doesn’t take orders.  He picks and chooses what he’ll take on (sometimes with a blaster to his head but still).  He doesn’t do charity work ‘cause he knows what a lost cause is and it ain’t gonna be him.  He has colleagues, clients and enemies.  He doesn’t have friends.

Friends are where it all goes wrong. Sure, they seem nice enough - ask you how you’re doing, share a bottle of whiskey, care if you live or die.  But then there’s more.  There’s always more.  Friends ask for things, friends want you to do favors.

“They’re stranded, Han…” she said, “We can’t just leave them there with no way to call for aid.  All we’ll do is make contact, set up a communication system then…”

I don’t know how she does it.  She isn’t charming.  Not like me.  She’s steely and bossy and thinks she’s a damn hero.  It’s insufferable really.  Wouldn’t even call her a friend if it weren’t for all the times she’s saved my life.  

Every week I tell myself I won’t give into her. I remind myself that she’s annoying and pint-sized and just plain exhausting.  And I almost believe it until she crosses my path again. Then somehow every care in the world falls away except for the one that has to do with making Leia happy.  

I must have a mother thing.

I snort as I adjust the ridiculous poncho she’s put me in.  I barely remember my mother.  She died (or left?) before I was nine years old.  Feel like I should remember more.  Wasn’t that young.  But my life got pretty crazy for a while after and it seems to have scrambled what came before.  I remember she was pretty.  Red hair, bright like most Lothalians. And she was the one who gave me these eyes.  

She wasn’t a delicate woman.  When her mouth was closed she seemed sweet and timid, but once she opened it you knew where she came from.  She would curse and spit like the sailors she’d bedded in the brothel she came from.  But she was kind, not two-faced like my father.  She said what she meant and meant what she said.  And late at night, after another hardscrabble day, she’d tell the best stories.  That’s when she was really beautiful, when her eyes got all twinkly and she’d share that hidden longing for magic I see in most women.

Don’t see it in Leia.  Wanted to for a flick.  Maybe.  But, she’s all business all the time.  And it’s not even a good business.

“Remind me again how you’re paying me?”  I ask, slipping on the mask she’s shoved into my hand.

She tenses and I can practically hear the crackle of her temper.  I feel am answering surge of frustration.  

“How many times do I have to remind you, I ain’t in this for your revolution?”  

“Or me?” Leia snaps, turning to pin me with that dark brown gaze.  She has good eyes, I’ll give her that.  Deep, compelling, hard to sneer at.

But I make an attempt.

“That what you want, Princess?  Want me following you around like a puppy dog?  Like—”

I almost say Luke.  But there’s that friend thing again.  Now it’s messing up my zingers.

Still, it seems to snap her out of it.  She recoils ever so slightly which puts me even more on edge.  

“I certainly do not want that,” she sniffs, “I just thought…never mind.  We’ll take a portion of the relief fund for your retainer.”  

She makes me feel so small sometimes.  And Han Solo is not small.

“This thing doesn’t run on dreams, you know?  Or on hope,” I purposely reference her rallying cry, “it runs on fuel.  Fuel that’s harder to get and more expensive than it’s been in 20 years.”

Leia glances up at me, and I feel my stomach knot up like it does around her.  It’s that mother thing.  Makes me feel like a naughty little boy.

“I know,” she says carefully, “and I’m willing to pay you, was planning to, but when you ask like that.”  Her nose scrunches up and the knots sort of dance into my chest.  It’s not a normal thing for knots to do.

“Yeah,” I sigh, trying to release them.  “Know I drive you crazy.”

The side of her mouth quirks just a bit, and out they go.  I feel back to normal except for that queasy feeling I get when I know she’s won.  I’ve prioritized her happiness once again.

“Alright, well, we’d better get going.  Those transponders aren’t going to deliver themselves.”

Leia nods and slips her mask on as well.  I can’t help but feel relieved by the reprieve from her eyes.  They peek trough the the mask but are shaded into an almost nondescript darkness.  Nothing striking about those.  

We both look ridiculous, her in a black witch’s costume and me in a nerferder get up because of the holiday on which we’ve landed.  The night of the Veil happens once every three years on Lothal and causes general commotion on the planet.  A three-day long festival encircles the day when the veil between this plane and the spiritual one supposedly comes down.  

I pretended not to know any of this when the Princess briefed me, but the truth was I knew it well.  Many of my mother’s stories, the only things I remember with crystal clarity, happened during or around this day.

I’d almost told her when she’d mentioned this place. Felt it on the tip of my tongue.  Of course, I bit down on that impulse.  Can’t be spilling my guts to every pair of pretty brown eyes, but I remember that almost now as we venture into the Lothallian night.  

Never told anyone about my mother.  Told a few people about my father.  Mostly other smugglers when I was starting out.  He was both proof I knew the business and a way to show them I’d be better.  Tore him down with all the berks that knew him.  

But, never had a reason to talk about my mother.  Doesn’t really matter when she’s gone and I’m grown.  But I feel the strangest desire to talk once again.  Almost a pressure on my tongue.  

I open my mouth just as a streak of black dashes across Leia’s feet. She squeals and jumps back, knocking into me.  I reach down on instinct and steady her shoulders.  The feel of warm skin through cheap satin almost singes my fingers.

“You okay?”

She lifts her hand to her chest then let’s out a soft laugh.  Something about the sound of her mirth and the feel of her skin makes my head swim.  I step back and shake my head, searching for whatever it was that scared her.  It’s only as I almost give up that I see the little critter sitting on a fence post bordering the outskirts of town.  

“What is that?” I say, squinting up at the small, squat beast with luminescent green eyes.

Leia catches her breath and looks to where I’m pointing.  

“Ohhh…” she breathes, “it’s a loth-cat.  She’s so pretty.”

I frown as a foreign chill goes up my spine.  I’m not one for superstition, too smart for that, or too old.  But I can almost swear I hear my mother’s voice in her rough Lothallian accent.

If their path be crossed by a loth-cat “Tis your true love you’re staring at

She always swore that’s how she’d met my dad.  My good for nothin’ father, selfish and shifty and stupid.  But she loved him.  Enough to make me almost believe in his goodness.

He was sitting in the parlor - at the grand piano - she’d said.  And the madam’s loth-cat - a rare, and prized pet to have on any planet - had jumped onto my father’s lap.  

“For a minute, I thought she’d claimed him for herself. But not in a mo’ she glared right at me with them laser eyes and crossed straight to the floor.  Knew he was mine right then.”

She’d smile wistfully at that, sometimes straight my father, who was probably too drunk to notice.

Love made you do the stupidest things.  

“Might want to keep going, Princess. Loth-cats are bad luck.”

She peers over her shoulder at me, flashing a mischievous smile.  

“How would you know?”

I squint at her.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think I saw a flash of magic behind that mask.

“Know better than you.  How many folktales did your fancy tutors tell you?”

She tilts her head, “None.”

“Well, then—“

“But the cooks told me plenty.  And my chambermaid Giirta.”

The loth-cat looks down in interest, it’s tails twitching to and fro.

“Alright,” I murmur, curious in spite of myself, “and what’d they tell you?”

Leia’s mouth opens slightly then shuts right as the loth-cat meows.

“Nothing,” she says, her voice returning to her normal alto timbre, “I don’t remember anything about a loth-cat.”

I am tempted to take her word on this.  I should drop it anyway except…except…

I know her tells.  I know when she’s tired, her shoulders slump and that famous Princess posture goes straight to hell.  I know when she hasn’t eaten in half a day, her tongue’s as sharp as vibroblade and quicker than my quick draw. And I know when she’s stretching the truth, she bites her bottom lip.  

Just like that she’s doing right now.

“Never heard about them, huh?”

She shakes her head and makes a real good show of getting back on the road.  Apparently neither the loth-cat nor I want this conversation to end cause he chooses that moment to leap off the fence post and onto my shoulder.  The damn thing claws my neck trying to get a grip then leaps across my body and scampers into the brush.  

By the time its over, I think I have aired out every Corellian curse that I know.

I finally look back at Leia to see her mask pushed up and those troubling brown eyes wide with shock.  I touch my hand to my neck and circle back to a couple curses as I look at the bright swath of blood.

“Now that was bad luck,” Leia said, voice substantially softer.  She briskly moves into my space and reaches for my hand.

She clicks her tongue like a little matron and lifts her hand to my chin.  I try to focus on the burn of the scratch rather than the brush of her fingers.  It’s just the damn nursery rhyme putting weird ideas in my head.

“He got you good,” Leia says more soothing than serious.  “Wait a moment.”

She reaches down into the bag she’s been carrying and draws out a small box.  She sets it on the fence post, the same one the loth-cat just vacated, and reveals its contents.  

“You brought a bacta kit with you?” I ask, unable to keep the shocked skepticism out of my voice.

She pins me with a look then lays out her supplies.

“I’m always prepared.”

Something about her demeanor, the back to business air, makes me want to rattle her.

“I can tell you what it means,” I say, smoothing out my tone to silk, “If you want.”

For a moment I don’t think she’s heard me as she plucks something from the pile and strides purposefully towards me.  It’s a damp cloth that she dabs gently on my neck.

“I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

She circles back to the box and returns with a substance both warm and cooling.

“Oh I think you’d be interested in this one, Princess,” I say, enjoying the way her lips tighten and her nostrils flare.  I’m pretty sure she’s blushing though it’s hard to see in the bleached light of the moons.

She finishes molding the bacta to my neck then takes a step back.

“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

My answering smile is so big it threatens to displace her handiwork.

“Now, why should you say that?”  I counter, “You don’t even know what i’m going to say.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve caught her now, but she parries as she always does.

“If it’s coming out of your mouth, it’s bound to be insufferable.”

I throw my hand to my heart caught now in a full-on performance.  “Now, is that a nice thing to say to the love of your life?”

Leia starts then stares for a long moment.  I almost have enough time to regret the foolishness coming out of my mouth when she steps towards me one more time.

“Ah…right,” her voice is more of a purr now, “I do remember something along the lines of…” she pantomimes a frown of concentration then recites as if by rote:

“If their path be crossed by a loth-cat ’‘Tis your true love you’re staring at”

She’s centims away, close enough to breath in.

“So it’s you then?” She asks, eyelashes aflutter.  “My knight in…tarnished armor?”

There’s a hint, more like a hold-full, of challenge in her eyes.  For a flick, I consider taking her up on it, dipping my head and taking those lips, nibbling them the way she had when she told her fib.  Instead, I do the stupidest thing I can possibly do because, well, I’m me.  

“Yeah, I’m the knight.  And you’re the Princess.  Just like in all those stories my mama told me.”

The word drops like a detonator into the silence of the night.  Leia falters.

“Your…mother?”

I realize too late what I’ve done, ended the fun and ushered in something private and tender and painful.  A new wound exchanged for an old one.

“Forget it, “ I say, stepping back and turning to look at the town over the length of farmland field.  “It’s a stupid superstition.  Let’s keep going.  We don’t have all night.”

For a moment I think she’ll actually do it, actually listen to me for once.  I don’t know why that makes me feel s—

“Who was she?” Leia asks, almost like an afterthought, as she packs up her bacta kit.  

I don’t look at her, considering my options.  I could shut her down, but we’ve got a long night ahead of us and I’d rather not do it in silence.

“She was a no one.  Poor as dirt.”

Leia listens for more.  That tell is a tilt of her head.  I look away, feeling the words rise in response.

“But she loved me,” I can feel Leia’s eyes on me, and for a moment, I hate myself.  “She tried.  S’more than I can say about anyone else.”

I hear the song of crickedas seem to swell as Leia takes this in.  

“She told you stories,” she says finally as she slips the box back into the bag of transponders.

I want to shrug this off, go into my well-worn routine, but there’s something about the still serenity of the night singing around us.

“Yeah,” I say, letting the weight of some long lost thing settle in my chest.

“So, tell me one,” comes Leia’s voice, cool and clear.

I look over at her and she’s already turned back to the road, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve.  She’s nervous too.

What’s she got to be nervous about?  I’m the one about to spill my guts.

And out they come, earnest and detailed and oh-so-embarrassing.  She laughs and cajoles and clamors for more.  As that phantom longing grows in my chest, rather than diminishes, I think once again, I shoulda left the damn rebellion.

Excited about this little tidbit that came to me upon waking this morning. This is a first draft with no edits and just the beginning, but I wanted to share. Call it the prologue...

~~

It starts when she picks up the baby on Tellorr. At first, I am struck. Something about the sight of her cradling a little squib tugs on some thread under my ribs. She looks...different. Strong, but tender. The smile on her face is one I haven't seen, her eyes completely clear with no shade of pain lingering in the background.

I try to imagine her as a mother. It's startlingly easy as she makes a little noise at the fussing infant. I can see her surrounded by tykes, eyes alight in the same way, teaching them about the days gone by when peace was something that had the be fought for. She turns and smiles at me, eyes still full of starlight but now shaded with something even more different...

[Cub, the family is sick.]

Chewie's warble is as quiet as it gets, but his paw is insistent on my shoulder.

"Huh?" I say, still stymied by the last part of my day dream. Leia looking right at--

[It looks like the Dreamer's Flu. Did the Princess have a shot?]

This gets my attention. I let go of the vision, a little reluctantly, and look at the people around her. They are a sorry lot. The mother is looking at Leia with wide, swimming eyes - she seems alert enough. But the old man next to her and another woman around her age stare off into the distance mumbling to themselves. Sweat pours down the man's face while the woman shivers uncontrollably.

I look back at Leia who has the infant tucked against her shoulder now. She is murmuring soothing songs into its ear and that string is pulled just a little more.

"We gotta get going, Princess," I sound regretful and maybe I am. It's not every planet turn I get to see something so lovely.

Recently made a deal with myself. I can be however I want in my head. Was getting real tiring trying to pretend I didn't want Leia. She's pretty much the only attractive woman on base after all. I can think whatever I want, just gotta keep my hands and my other parts to myself.

Because the truth is, I don't want to hurt her. It's the strangest feeling. Or feelings. On one level, I want her the way I've always wanted a pretty woman. Well, maybe a little more than that - add in her sharp tongue, her stunning wit, those compelling eyes and craving might be a better term. But, I---I worry about her. She's so young. It took a while for me to wrap my head around. She acts like a dowager. But, she's barely out of her teens. She doesn't have anyone to protect her from...creeps like me.

So, I do that. I have my thoughts. Then I protect her from them. It's weird. Don't ask me about it.

Leia glances at me. It seems like that string is connected to her eyes because it goes taught. Everything tightens when she looks straight at me.

"We have a little time. He's almost asleep."

My eyes narrow inspire of myself. Why does she never listen to me? Even when I'm trying to be all big brotherly.

"Chewie sees some white helmets over the stalls. You want to bring them here?"

That gets her attention. Her serenity disappears (shame, that), and she turns back toward the mother. The woman is shaking her head and pleading with her in some language. Leia looks pained as she answers back. Of course, she knows it. She reaches toward me.

"Do you have any money?"

"I have what you paid me," I make show of looking over my shoulder to hurry her along.

"I'll pay you back," she looks pleadingly at me. "Please, Han."

There's nothing like that sound from her lips. Undoes me every time. She could probably ask me to blow my own brains out and I'd do it if only she said, "Han."

"Alright, Princess. Just hurry up."

I hand her the embarrassingly light billfold (the Falcon's been a fussy girl lately), and she shoves the credits in the woman's hands. The woman looks grateful but her family continues to stare and moan. Without conscious thought, I am gripping Leia's shoulder and guiding her by the waist. She stumbles a little, but she doesn't protest, keeping pace with me, back in soldier mode. I feel a little pang of guilt about lying to her. But then I remember the shivering woman in the doorway, and I let that go.

"You've been vaccinated for Tellorish flu right?"

~~