A HAIR BRUSH
THE COLOR YELLOW
A SNOWSTORM
A LOVE SONG(OR POEM)
AND SOME TYPE OF UNIQUE SEATING

Han was in a cranky mood. Oh, he wasn't jealous, not in any form of the word. He was just upset.

He was on his way home, his wife Leia at his side, from an important, but nevertheless boring, meeting held by the higher-ups of the New Republic. Something to do with Ithor. Leia would fill him in later anyway. No, Han had been preoccupied with the peculiar seating arrangement.

Instead of sitting beside his wife, like usual, he was placed across from her. The Senator from Ithor took Han's usual seat at her right. That really upset him. Not to mention the many glances that the Senator sent her way obviously served more purpose then to prove that he was simply paying attention. Yes, Han was cranky, but not jealous.

They reached their apartment shortly and Leia keyed their entrance code. The door openned with a soft whoosh and they entered. She immediately turned on him.

"What's going on, flyboy?" she demanded, not angry, but stern.

The ugly pale yellow of the living room walls wasn't helping his mood any. He wondered, not for the first time, why he had let Leia choose that color in the first place. Surely all they really had to do was get a furry pet of some kind and neglect to potty train it.

Han flashed a poor immitation of his innocent look. "What do you mean? Nothing's going on." Yeah, like she would buy that.

"Sure, Han." Leia made her way to their room and took a seat at her vanity. She proceeded to let her hair down as she spoke. "You've been moody all evening."

He took a seat on the edge of their bed and held her gaze in the mirror. "Why did they change the seating arrangements?"

Her hair loose now, she picked up her brush an began working out the kinks in her long mane. "Why does it matter?" she countered, not seeing the problem.

He gave her a silent look that sort of resembled him caught in mid eyeroll, as if to say, "it's not obvious?"

Suddenly realizing the problem, she turned around to face him. "You're jealous!" she exclaimed, mildly surprised.

Han crossed his arms and suddenly resembled a small child. "I am not! I'm just upset because I don't understand why they had to change our seats like that."

Leia cocked her head to the side, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're jealous," she clarified.

His eyes narrowed and he stood up. "It's not funny." He turned and left the room, silently stewing.

Her amusement quickly faded as she watched him pass through the doorway. He opened the doors to the balcony and stepped through. She wondered for a moment if she should go to him, or let him cool off. Realizing that this was one of the few nights they had alone together, she was determined not to let his mood get in the way of romance. No way was he going to ruin this night.

She decided to change out of her formal wear and into an elegant burgundy robe--the one that Han had bought for her--before going after him. Arguing would get them nowhere fast, so she was going to play the loving wife tonight.

Leia walked into the living room and over to the stereo system. Without a moment's thought, she put on a love song. Their love song. She knew Han couldn't resist it.

She made her way onto the balcony as a few snow flakes began to drift softly from the sky. It was relatively chilly out, but she didn't mind it. Han was leaning on the railing, looking down at the city below. She approached him quietly and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She nuzzled her cheek against his back, slipping her hands under the hem of his shirt, as she hummed along with the music.

"Han Solo, you foolish man," she spoke softly after a few moments. She felt him take a breath, but he didn't turn around yet. "How could you even think that that Senator would ever stand a chance? Do you think so little of me?"

He let out a sigh and turned around. She had played the seduction card and the guilt-trip card; he just didn't stand a chance. "You know that's not true," he said, his anger starting to desolve and, in it's place, was a kind of amused sheepishness. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

Leia smiled back at him. "So, no ruined evening?" she questioned, raising a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. The snow flakes had multiplied in quantity, and she watched as a few caught in his hair and melted away.

Han shook his head as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "No ruined evening," he assured her before taking her lips with his own in a kiss. He felt her hands work higher under his shirt and his hands, in turn, found a more comfortable place to rest on her backside. She surprised him then by doing the same.

At last, he flashed her a lopsided grin, all of his moodiness forgotten. The music, the weather and, of course, the company, had their desired affect. "Why don't we take this party inside?" At her nod, they released each other and he took her hand in his own. "I bet we could come up with a few appealing seating arrangements of our own," he murmured to her, and her laughter filled the night sky and was carried along by the building wind.

***

"Hmm," Leia sighed a couple of hours later. She lay on their bed, Han right beside her.

"How you doing?" Han asked, planting little kisses around her ear.

At that, she turned over to face him. "Very well, thank you," she teased, giving him a kiss. She glanced over his shoulder toward the window behind him and laughed. "It's a good thing we came inside."

"Huh?" He turned over to see what she was talking about and his face lit up in a grin. The simple snowflakes and breeze from earlier had transformed into a full blown blizzard. He didn't have to wonder why they hadn't noticed any sooner. He turned back to his wife, a renewed glint in his eyes. "Are you cold, sweetheart?"

She nodded, playing along. "Must be the seating arrangement."

Han took Leia in his arms again. "Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?"

END