Since I'm feeling fannish in that sort of way, I think I'm going to write more fluffy slashy drabble. Yeah. Plot? What's a plot? Oh, and since my story of yesterday was liked for "awww...young Luke is so cute," then maybe I should write more young Luke. Special thanks to my nerdy auntie and her friends for telling me what a "woobie" is. Yes, I think each of my stories contains a woobie.

My boyfriend's challenge to me was to write a story that begins and ends with the line "I should have known better." 30 minute time limit, which you know I'm gonna go over. Scoff you can't write a story in 30 minutes! But I honestly will try my hardest. How about Luke's POV this time, since I have so much experience doing that?

This isn't really a sequel to "Whistle" but it follows cannon with it, and the whistle is mentioned briefly.

I should have known better. I mean, after all, it was Han. Whenever Han said "you'll have a great time," I never did. When he said that, it meant he'll have a good time.

I tried. Really I did. I knew he thought I was prude and naive, and I did my best to impress him and prove him wrong. But I could only go so far. Going to a bar is one thing. Going to a bar with women dancing naked is another. I was embarrassed to admit it, but I just couldn't take that kind of thing. It had nothing to do with morality, though if I hadn't had my other problems with it, I might have started thinking more about it and come up with moral objections–it didn't seem particularly respectful to the woman involved, and I thought Leia might have had a thing or two to say about it, as well. But it didn't even come to that, because when I saw a woman naked, my mind shut down. Completely. First I would turn pale, and then blush from head to toe, and then run. Well, maybe not actually run, but I would get out of there as fast as I could.

That night was no exception. As soon as I picked up on the fact that this bar wasn't your usual sort of bar, I paled, then blushed, then glared at Han. He just gave me an innocent look, as if to ask what I was so upset about. But neither of us said a word, and I was out the door.

I walked two or three blocks through the small tourist town Han and had I found ourselves in, looking for a contact of Leia's. I was never really sure what was going on politically in those days–something about trading negations. It had been Han's idea to let the matter rest until later and have a night out that night. I wondered absently why a night out with Han could never mean dinner and a show. I thought maybe he tired to make my skin crawl. Maybe he liked to see me blush.

I smiled to myself, remembering the time Wedge pointed out to me that a lot of people thought blushing was attractive. Maybe Han thought I looked sexy flushed.

Right. Sexy. Me. I shook my head and stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. No. I wasn't sexy, I was a teenager who had hung onto his awkward stage much longer than anyone had any business doing. I was very well aware of the fact that I was too tiny for someone who had stopped growing, and that my voice still cracked sometimes, and that I had trouble paying attention, and that I gave away how uneducated, inexperienced, uncultured, and gullible I was with everything I said and did.

I stopped at a river, leaning my elbows on the railing of the bridge, staring at the sunset shimmering in the water, the local furry water creatures, whatever they were called, swimming lightheartedly. Looking for a distraction, I took a ration bar from my pocket and tore off pieces, throwing them to the animals, who dove for them frantically. I smiled softly to myself. Cute.

It wasn't as if I could tell Han how I felt about him. I was sure he expected me to end up with Leia, and though I did think she was beautiful and amazing–in every way–I was so intimidated by her even after knowing her for a year that I could hardly meet her eyes most of the time. She was so much more than I ever could have been. But things were easy with Han. He was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with. I sighed and shook my head, tossing the last bit of the bar to the animals. Everything was easy with Han except talking seriously with him. He made fun too much.

Like now.

He found me on the bridge, a lop-sided smile on his face. His smile brightened my mood every time, even when I knew he was mocking me. "You feeding the ducks?" he asked.

"What's a duck?"

He gestured to the animals. "Water birds."

"They're not birds. They have fur."

"Oh. Whatever. You know, it might do you good to eat your food instead of giving it to fur-ducks and stuff all the time. Finally put some meat on your bones."

I smiled absently, but didn't meet his eyes. I didn't mind being made fun of, but it wasn't going to be enough to make me laugh this time.

"Come on, kid. Stop sulking," he said, leaning against the railing next to me. "I won't make you go back to the strip club–promise." And then he made doe eyes at me, and that works every time. His eyes were amazing–brown on the rim, green inside, gold flecks. I wonder if he knew what they do to me.

I sighed in resignation and said, "Fine." But I didn't know what else to say. I was lost in his eyes and a sudden want for words.

He smiled as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. "What're you looking at?"

Blush. Great. I turned away. "Nothing..." I started waking away from him, across the bridge to a park, expecting him to follow me. He did.

"You're pink," he informed me nonchalantly but a bit amused, coming into step beside me.

"I know," I grumbled. "I can always tell. I'm too old to blush like this."

I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. "You're not too old. It's supposed to mean you're aroused, you know. That's the evolutionary reason for it, at least–to make you look sexy."

My face got hotter and I knew I'd gone from pink to scarlet. I hid my face in my hands.

Han laughed.

"You did that on purpose!" I shouted angrily.

He kept laughing. "It's just way too easy. I don't even have to try."

Scowling, but Han had said once that I looked more like I was pouting when I scowled, I stuffed my hands back into my pockets, refusing to meet his eyes. I quickened my pace, but he kept up. His legs are a lot longer than mine.

"I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't sound sorry. He sounded like he was still making fun.

"Leave me alone," I growled.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked more seriously.

I stopped so I could stare him in the eye. "Han, I grew up getting made fun of constantly by everyone who I called friends–"

"What about Biggs?"

"Okay, except Biggs. But that's beside the point. Thanks to them I have a complex, and I don't need to get this from you, too. I mean, sometimes is alright, but with where you took me tonight–and I know that was just to see my reaction, and it wasn't funny–I think you should just back off, okay? I know I'm pathetic–you don't have to remind me constantly."

He smirked. "Feisty."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. "Stop. Just stop."

He trailed after me. "I like you feisty. And who says you're pathetic?"

"Don't tell me you don't think so."

"I don't," he insisted, his voice becoming more sincere and the smirk leaving his face. "You should have it figured out by now that I make fun of you because I like you."

I stopped walking again, searching his face for sincerity. He was serious. "I know," I murmured, because I did know, but I never expected to hear it from him.

He stepped in closer to me, meeting my eyes. "You take everything so seriously," he teased. "You're not pathetic." Was he blushing this time, of ever so slightly? "You're fucking amazing."

My eyes went wide. Never had I expected such a compliment form him, given to me with such honesty. "What?"

He shrugged, trying to tell me what he meant as casually as possible. It was still Han, after all. "You know. You're pretty annoying and immature most of the time, but a year ago you were kicking around on a moisture farm, and now look at everything you've done."

I smiled hesitantly. Inside I beamed, but outside I tried to keep humble.

"Besides," he continued. The smirk returned, so I braced myself for another verbal poke. "You're gorgeous."

If last time was scarlet, this time it was burgundy. But I couldn't look away from his eyes. I was too stunned.

He laughed. "Too easy."

The blush disappeared quickly when I realized he was joking. I turned to go, but he took my hand gently and pulled me back. "I'm not kidding, Luke," he said softly.

I looked up into his eyes. No stupid degrading nicknames, just Luke. That meant a lot to me. "Yes, you are."

He shook his head slowly. "You got blue eyes that take up half your face. Anyone who looked at you would think you're cute."

"You said gorgeous, not cute," I reminded him timidly.

"Both." He slid the fingers of our joined hands together, and I did my best not to blush or tremble. "You shiver when I touch you," he said lowly, drawing still closer. "You got nothing to be scared of."

I wasn't scared. I was excited. Like the night with the whistle when he held me all night. I didn't think had I stopped shaking until I fell asleep. But I had loved every minute of it. I reached for his other hand and stepped a little closer still until we were almost touching, now fairly sure my feelings were mutual.

Sheepishly, like a boy giving his first kiss, Han leaned down and touched his lips to mine quickly before drawing away. I marveled at his obvious embarrassment, because I'd expected Han to kiss like the seasoned womanizer that he was. But I wasn't a woman, and we were already friends, after all. Maybe he was nervous because I was special. I was special.

"I like you, too," I whispered, and as soon as I said it I knew it probably sounded stupid.

But he smiled at me, and kissed me again, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me to him. The way I'd expected him to, but much better for the first touch before it.

And I thought I wouldn't have any fun that night. I should have known better.