The Scruffiest Fluff

By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham

Leia Organa-Solo released a grateful sigh as she finally stepped across the threshold and into the darkened foyer of her mountainside Nabooan home. Reaching around, she palmed the controls for the door and flicked the foyer lights up a notch, then sagged against the nearest wall and allowed her satchel to slip from her shoulder to the floor. It landed with a dull thunk as the door slid shut behind her, and she heaved another weary sigh.

She was well over an hour late. Her workday felt as though it had lasted for years and it had been an especially heavy shift, with more than its usual share of frustrations; the sort that always accompanied government bureaucracy, even a relatively new one. Even now, more than five years after the fall of the Empire, rebuilding the Republic continued to be every bit as tough a job as she had expected—and then some.

But those worries could wait, she sternly reminded herself as she straightened to her full height—they would have to wait, at least for the next couple of days, because she had more important things to do with her weekend than spend it fretting over fractious politicians and their delicate egos. She was finally home, and the evening hours stretched out before her with the promise of unfettered relaxation and fun. She planned to savour every single moment.

Nudging her satchel aside, she slipped off her shoes and had just reached down and begun to rub at the tender ball of one foot when the silence finally caught up with her.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet, in fact. She cocked her head as she worked out the cramp in her toes, straining to hear something—anything—from deeper within the house.

"Han?" she called into the silence. "Breha? Where are you?"

Hearing no reply, she straightened and then padded through the foyer to the expansive and warmly lit family room. As always, the bright space was a happy disaster of scattered toys, blankets, and all of the usual equipment that accompanied life with an eight-month-old baby. Normally alive with the sounds of an energetic and contented child at play, the room was strangely silent and empty now. She bit her lip against a flash of gratitude that at least there was no relentlessly upbeat, obnoxiously repetitive music streaming from the sound system. If she heard "BAY-BEE SQUIG! doo-doo-do-do-do-doo" one more time, she thought she might whip out her lightsaber and cleave their media unit in half.

Still, the silence was unusual. She furrowed her brow, more puzzled than alarmed. Their Nabooan retreat was a veritable fortress, embedded high in the mountainside and guarded at all times by a devoted and highly diligent trio of Noghri, as well as the finest electronic security systems that credits could buy. Moreover, Leia's hard-earned mastery of the Force allowed her to reach out through the aether to briefly touch the sparks of life that represented her husband and her daughter, and she knew without a doubt that they were safe, and somewhere in the house.

But where exactly were they...?

And then she heard it—a muffled but happy shriek, coming from the rear of the house. And was that a splash? Realization dawning, Leia smiled and turned in the direction of the sound, then hurried down the hallway toward its source: the master bedroom, and the oversized ensuite fresher within.

Entering the room, she saw that the doorway to the fresher on the opposite wall was wide open, and as she crossed the plushly carpeted expanse, the giggling shrieks and noisy splattering grew even louder. Above the din, she could hear Han's deep, rumbling voice carrying on what sounded like a very one-sided conversation. When she finally reached the threshold and took in the scene beyond the shower's buzzing, transparent enviroshield, she stopped short and felt her eyes grow wide.

Naked, wet, and covered in soap suds, Han stood at an angle with his back to the spray, securely cradling an equally naked and sudsy Breha in the crook of one arm. Squealing with glee, the baby was busily slapping at Han's face with both hands, covering his angular jaw with handful after tiny handful of glistening suds to give him the appearance of a thick, white, foamy beard. Leia's heart gave a little thump against her ribs, and then promptly melted to a warm puddle.

Smiling, she leaned one shoulder against the door frame and folded her arms across her chest as she paused to savour this new, adorable image of father and daughter, capturing the sweet scene and filing it away alongside the countless others in her memory. This was one of those ordinary—and yet completely extraordinary—moments that she knew she would treasure forever; perfectly natural and beautifully framed in its simplicity, but altogether astonishing when she thought about how drastically her world had changed in the past few years. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was here and this was her life. Watching her precious child, who was clearly enraptured by her adoring father, and observing her beloved husband, equally smitten with the baby in his arms, she felt her throat tighten and her eyes sting a little. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly get any happier….

She lingered for a moment longer as Han, seemingly oblivious to his wife's presence, continued to patiently accept his daughter's sloppy but enthusiastic ministrations, beaming down at Breha's jubilant visage as she shrieked in delight at his foamy beard. Leia was reluctant to disrupt the playful moment, but she was mindful that their time was already running short, if her surprise plans for the evening were going to come to fruition.

"Han," she said, and then cleared her throat and called out in a louder voice, strong enough to be heard above the sounds of splashing water and unrestrained infant joy. "Hey, Flyboy!"

Han swivelled around, his arms full of squirming, slippery infant, and flashed her a smile that all but stopped her heart.

"Hiya, Sweetheart!" He reached out a hand to tap the controls, reducing the thundering spray to a fine, quiet mist that made conversation more feasible. "Look, kiddo...Mama's home," Han said to Breha, the layer of foam-beard that adorned his face wobbling comically as he spoke. Breha's big hazel eyes were still fixed on his face, so he jostled her gently, dipped down to catch her gaze and then pointed through the shield in Leia's direction.

Tearing her attention away from Han's bubble-bearded face, Breha finally spotted her mother and began to babble excitedly, leaning hard away from Han and spreading her chubby arms wide in greeting, while Han tightened his grip to keep her from launching herself from his arms. He tipped an amused gaze back to his wife and gave her a crooked grin. "We, uh, had a situation here."

"A...situation?" Leia echoed as she crossed the fresher floor.

Smiling broadly at her daughter, she reached a hand through the water-blocking enviroshield and tickled Breha's soapy belly. Interest momentarily diverted away from her father's entertaining face, Breha turned her full attention to her mother, blinking mist-spangled eyelashes and squealing in open-mouthed delight as she batted at Leia's hand with one chubby fist. She leaned even harder in Leia's direction, forcing Han to adjust his slippery grip on her to keep her secure.

"Yeah, you know…." Han's face contorted into an exaggerated expression of revulsion, wrinkling up his nose and sticking out his tongue.

Leia laughed. "Ah. That kind of situation."

"You got it," he said, as more of his soapy beard slipped down his jawline and dripped off his chin. "She outdid herself this time, Sweetheart. Worst I've ever seen—and that's sayin' something."

Leia rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. It was sobad you had to shower yourself, too?"

Han's mobile face straightened to absolute solemnity, his eyes growing wide above his slowly dripping beard. "Leia. You don't understand. It was the only way."

Leia laughed at his grave expression and weighty tone, then resumed tickling her daughter's tummy. "Hmm. Well, maybe we need to reconsider letting her eat so much mashed pashie…".

Han made a gagging noise. "Damn straight. No more mashed pashie 'til she's potty trained."

Leia snickered, still focused on entertaining Breha with playful tickles. "Did she take a nap?"

"Yeah, and she woke up crying, so I scooped her up in a hurry without checking first. Big mistake. By the time I realized what the problem was, we were both covered. It was mashed all the way up her b—."

"Ugh!" Leia interjected, shooting him a look that said to spare her the gory details. She turned her attention back to her daughter. "Oh, baby girl."

As she spoke, she walked her wet fingers up Breha's tiny belly and then reached up to playfully pinch one rosy, rounded cheek. Breha squealed and squirmed in protest, but then angled her face to offer her mother her opposite cheek. Leia obliged, delighting in the high-pitched peals of her daughter's laughter.

Directing her comments to the baby, she cooed, "I don't believe it, darling. You're too little to make such a big mess, aren't you?"

"Oh, trust me," Han said, "she has ways, even in her sleep." He adjusted his grip to secure Breha's squirming body against his own. "I don't know how anything so small can produce such an enormous pile of...I mean, it was everywhere, and the stench—."

"Okay, enough, I believe you," Leia laughed, cutting him off with a wave of her hand as she withdrew from the damp enclosure. Fetching a warm towel from the heated rail mounted on the nearby wall, she blotted the water from her hand and forearm. "Where are her dirty clothes? I'll put them in the wash."

Han skewed his lips to one side, looking mildly sheepish. "Er...in the incinerator."

"Han!"

"Hey!" Han protested. "It was the only place for 'em, Sweetheart, trust me. And my best shirt went with 'em. It was that bad."

Leia heaved a sigh of resignation, and then stretched the towel out with both hands, in preparation for taking the baby. Her heart melted all over again as Breha angled toward her, spreading her arms wide and grasping at the air, opening and closing her tiny fists in wordless anticipation. "I'll take her, so you can finish your shower in peace."

"Hey, I've got a better idea," Han returned, angling the baby away. "How 'bout you strip off and join us?"

His tone was light, but laced with more than a hint of suggestion. Leia dragged her attention away from Breha once more, and allowed her gaze to roam appreciatively over Han's bare form from head to toe. His foamy beard had continued to slide, revealing a darkened scruff of real, days-old beard underneath. Warm, steamy water rained softly down on his back and and trickled off his broad shoulders, as patches of foam traversed in waves down over the firm landscape of his chest and abdomen, offering more and more tantalizing glimpses of bare bronze skin in its wake.

Leia swallowed hard as she lowered the towel and met his gaze once more. "You know what she's like, Han. If I take my top off, she'll just think it's dinner time. And anyway, Luke will be here in half an hour, and I need to get ready."

"Oh...are you two going somewhere?"

"No," Leia gave him her warmest smile, pleased at least to reveal her evening plans. "We're going out."

"We are?" Han gave Breha a little jostle, and dipped down to nuzzle her cheek. "Hear that, kiddo? Good thing we got cleaned up!"

"Um...not her." Leia gestured between them. "Just you and me. Luke is coming to stay with Breha."

"Is that right?" Han replied, a crease appearing between his brows. "And where are we going? Some off-world dignitaries in town that need entertaining for the evening?"

"No, I'm off work for the weekend, remember?" Leia said pointedly.

Han smirked at her and shook his head.

"I mean it, Han. No work. Just us. And I thought...well, I thought we could go out for the night. All night."

Han furrowed his brow. "To do what?"

Leia rolled her eyes again and released an exasperated sigh. "I don't know!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Anything! Whatever we want! Whatever couples without a baby for an entire evening do for fun."

The light of realization slowly dawning across his features, Han's smile grew wider. "You mean like a date?"

"Yes, exactly," she replied with an answering smile. "A date."

Han grunted. "Been about two years since we had one of those."

Leia's look turned withering. "Oh, it hasn't been that long."

"Damn near it."

"Fine, whatever. It has been a while," she conceded, "so I thought maybe we could take advantage of Luke being planetside and get some time alone…." She trailed off with a provocative arch of one eyebrow, and was gratified by the immediate spark of interest that flared in her husband's eyes.

She would never have believed it, but having a child had only strengthened the bond she shared with Han. She loved him more than ever, and her desire for him had never waned. But between her newly resumed position in the senate, Han's intermittent absences for work, and the constant demands of parenthood, it felt like an age since they'd had more than an hour to themselves.

But tonight, all going well, it would be just the two of them. Breha would be safe and happy under her beloved Uncle Luke's doting gaze, leaving Leia free to enjoy a night away with her husband—with no distractions.

She allowed her gaze to slide down between them once more, taking in Han's wet, foam-covered torso with a look of frank appreciation, and lingering lower still for just a half-second more before she lifted her eyes back to his. As his hazel eyes darkened and flickered, she knew he'd caught her meaning and was one-hundred percent on board.

"Wow," he grinned, swiping away what soap still remained on his face with a flick of his free hand, revealing the full extent of the stubble that peppered his jaw. "Okay. Well, maybe you oughtto take her, then. If I'm gonna get lucky later, I need to shave."

Stretching up on tiptoe, Leia leaned her upper body through the enviroshield and they shared a warm and lingering kiss as she took Breha from his arms, not minding the fact that the mist dampened her face and the baby's dripping wet body soaked the front of her tunic. She would need to freshen up and change before going out anyway. Drawing away, she cast her husband one more promising look as she settled Breha on her hip and took a half-step toward the door.

"Uh, Sweetheart?" Han called after her. "Before you see the nursery...you, uh, you oughta know I torched her bed linens, too."

"WHAT?" Leia spun on her heel and Breha chortled, her hands reflexively clenching Leia's top as they wheeled around. "Oh, no...oh, Han, not the ones with the little droids on them…?"

Han blinked soap from his eyes. "I think you're underestimating the extent of the damage, Princess. I'm telling you, this was a Code Four biohazard situation. I'm surprised there isn't a blast crater in the middle of the nursery."

Right on cue, Breha cackled loudly and batted Leia's shoulder with one hand, as though she found the entire situation—and her pivotal role in it—enormously funny. With a mock scowl, Han leaned in close to the shower's edge and levelled a dripping wet finger at his daughter from behind the enviroshield.

"Laugh it up, Butterball," he said, and then raised his voice an octave to speak to her in a comically sing-song voice. "You're all cute and adorable now, aintcha? But Mama shoulda seen you twenty minutes ago. You looked like the hind end of a Bordok…." He reached through the shield then, and gave his daughter a series of tickling pokes in her ribs in synch with his words. "Yes. You. Did. Smelled like one, too."

As Breha doubled over in waves of baby giggles, Leia was helpless to contain her own laughter. There was nothing else quite like the sound of her daughter's happy chortles to make her feel that all was right in the galaxy. Feeling a wistful pang at the prospect of leaving the baby behind for the evening, for just a moment she pondered the possibility of cancelling their romantic evening plans. She knew Han wouldn't mind staying home and spending time with Breha, even though he'd been with her all day; he was every bit as besotted—and more of a homebody at heart than she would ever have suspected in the early years of their acquaintance. Watching him laugh and croon with their daughter, Leia's heart swelled, seeming to double in size with the power of her love for them both.

She found Han's devotion enormously endearing—but it was also more than a little sexy. Her eyes were drawn to the stubbled growth of beard that shaded his jaw, and she couldn't help but stare—imagining it soft and yet bracing against her lips, brushing the sensitive skin of her neck, grazing between her thighs….

She shivered with anticipation. Stepping toward the shower, she leaned in and gave her husband a meaningful look. "On second thought," she murmured, "don't shave."

Han's eyes widened as his brows climbed. He swiped a tentative hand across his jaw, and then eyed her with a curious expression. "You sure 'bout that? I've let it grow for a few days now...you sure you want me—."

"Yes," Leia interjected. "Oh yes...I want you."

She paused for a moment to let that sink in, smirking at his look of happy surprise. Then she swivelled around and headed through the open doorway to the bedroom beyond, calling back over her shoulder, "And I want you scruffy."