Lights Out

[twelve_not_fourteen]

At least thirty percent of his time, while he was awake, was spent hanging around in bars. Talking shop with the other hooligans. Swapping stories about brushes with death. Playing games of chance. Having a few drinks to pass the time. All of that lingering, hopefully parlaying into a job of some kind eventually. Or at least a lead on one. A new contact, maybe.

There was always something that set Han, in particular, apart from all the other ruffians and freighter bums in the smoky dives he hung around in. That tilt of the head. That smile of his. The timbre of his voice and the way he strung words together. It drew many people in to him. Charisma. Or charm. Confidence? Perhaps all of them working together. He had something intangible that the other low-life’s didn’t seem to have.

People tend to like him. Even when they have no good reason to.

And it’s good that he has that, because face it, he doesn’t have much else going for himself. Not only does he not have a lot of wealth, you frequently hear about mounting debts attached to the name Han Solo. His ship is old and by the look of it, doesn’t seem like anything worth boasting about – much less boasting about it as often as he does.

But every once in a while, he rubs someone the wrong way. He’s talked himself into a job that another gentleman trader was interested in. Beating them handily at sabacc. Saying something impolite. Or hell, maybe whatever is that makes him charming to most, didn’t work on that particular person.

It happens.

The bars of home are so familiar and he spends so much time in them, that, when he ended up in the Nexus … it only made sense that he’d spend a portion of his time in multiverse bars too. They’re only slightly more exotic than the ones of long ago and far away.

This evening, Han had spent many hours spent talking to a pretty, if a little scrappy, pilot from another universe named Kara Thrace. Apparently there, humans were endangered and were entangled in a battle with some really advanced and vicious group of … well she called them Cylons, but as far as Han could figure, they were droids. And they could look like anyone.

He supposes there’s nothing to have really substantiated any of the number of fantastic dogfighting stories the woman had, but he liked listening to them. Brought him right back to his days flying in screaming TIE/LN Starfighters. He countered with a few smuggling tales of his own. Which upon thinking about it, she had no reason to believe any of his stories either.

And they had a few drinks.

Halfway through the evening, they realized they were both card players and promised they’d meet up again to play a few hands. Strictly friendly stakes, of course, they mutually assured each other with the glint of mischief in each pair of eyes.

At the end of the evening, they went their separate ways.

As Han headed back to the Millennium Falcon, he was still comfortably numb from any number of drinks he had to knocked back to keep up with Thrace. The late summer air was cool that evening after the sun had set. The walks back to the ship were usually nice. Gave him at least some kind of exercise after all that sitting and a chance to clear his head.

Usually.

This walk back to the ship happened to be made less pleasant by the presence of two sentient non-humans that must have looked at him and decided they didn’t like them. He didn’t recall meeting them before.

One was humanoid, with brown ridges on its forehead and long eyebrows. The other reptilian by a quick glance and yet somehow, feline on a closer inspection. The posture and body structure, he supposed, was what made it look cat-like despite the scales. It was huge, too. It only took a moment or so of looking at it to realize it was bigger than Chewbacca. Which was all the time he had before it was shoving him hard. At a brick wall.

If he had been completely sober, he would have probably been able to brace himself against the wall, but not in the state he was in now. He actually trips in trying to dig his boots into the ground.  Then he hits the wall head first.

He blacks out before he hits the ground.

He’s only out for a minute or two, but in that time, Han had been stripped of his wallet - which he doesn’t even notice is missing - and his jacket - which he does notice is gone. All he actively looks for is the blaster, which remains strapped to his leg.

For a moment he just sits himself up on the edge of the sidewalk and tries to piece together what happened. He finds himself appreciating, on some level, the way those goons got around the AV field by shoving him at the wall. His head is pounding, but not bleeding and honestly, it’s not even close to the worst thumping he’s ever gotten.

He decides to continue shambling home, albeit a bit slower, wondering what the hell he did to piss those two guys off.

Comments

[red_room]

Keeping tabs on Han Solo was something of a game more than a necessity, now. It was a way to pass the time. A way to keep her skills sharp. The pilot was detail oriented, and more clever than most gave him credit for. Getting something past him took a lot of skill.

Really, he made for the best kind of practice.

But he wasn't at the ship, which meant he'd more than likely be looking for work, working, or getting drunk. His list of frequent haunts wasn't terribly long. But when she walked into one of them, she didn't need to speak whatever language the thug was gloating in to know something had happened to Han. Not with the vest they were showing off to some lady.

Well.

She walks up to the thugs, barely coming up to the one's chest and offers a cool smile before taking each of their drinks from their hands and pouring the contents on each of them without batting an eye. It's all the cajoling she needs to get them to swing at her.

The larger of the two humanoids is also slower. She grabs onto its scaly arm and twists around with the swing, using the creature's momentum before dropping to the floor and sliding between the other's legs and twisting, knocking his feet out from under him as she goes. The heap he lands in makes for a wonderful vaulting point really. Natasha sprints over him and launches herself at the reptilian, wrapping her legs around its throat before dropping backwards and throwing him across the floor, hands planted on the floor as though she were doing nothing but a gymnast's routine.

In less than a minute both of them are down. Natasha scoops up the vest and slips it on over her form fitting leather jacket and pockets the wallet. Someone's beer gets picked up as she walks out, sipping from the bottle and swaying her hips with each click of her heels against the floor.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

It's been something of a process putting one foot in front of the other. And then, trying to ... you know, move. The world was feeling slightly unsteady to begin with and then he got knocked out cold. It's been a lot of looking toward the frame of his saucer shaped freighter and moving real slow that ultimately gets him home.

He doesn't even realize how badly he got hurt until he gets to the ankle of the ship and keys in the entry code. About 4 times. Before he finally hits them in the right order.

A sharp stabbing pain in his forehead, just above his left eye, flares up with every clang of his boots against the metal of the ramp. He groans in protest of the pain, first. Then he concentrates on the keypad for almost a minute. As if it would help fight the fog in his head. He manages to close the ramp successfully.

Han makes a slow shuffle to the refrigeration unit where he grabs the coldest bottle of beer he can find. Not to drink, even, simply to press against the bump forming on his brow. He holds it against his head while he walks to the cabin. Slowly. The walking seemed to take more out of him that it should and he's eager to collapse into his bed.

[red_room]

The ship is closed up when Natasha arrives.

Not that she's terribly surprised, or terribly impeded by this. She's been here enough times to know how to gain access to the Falcon. Something that has made their back and forth of planting taps and finding them much more fun. At least more fun for Natasha. If it's bothered Han he hasn't said so to her face, yet.

Still, she doesn't try to sneak when she's aboard the ship. Her heels still clank against the metal. Han isn't in the mess area, she can't hear the shower, and no one's playing around in the cockpit. Which really only leaves his bunk. The good captain is out like a light when she strides in. A good thing too, because Natasha slips a fond smile before she can catch herself and wipe it away.

She debates making herself at home, but the wound on his head is troubling enough that she moves closer instead. Careful not to be silent, lest she startle him. Best not to do that with a man on as much of a hair trigger as Han is.

"You look like hell, tiger."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

There's more groaning coming from the lips of Han Solo when he hears the sound of narrow heels hitting the metal of the old freighter. It's a quieter than before, though, because she's waking him from sleep and that task itself seems to be a lot more slow going than usual.

It's probably not pleasant for her to look at him with the welt on his head, but she'd seen Avengers (ones without superpowers, even) come back from fights with far worse. Kryff, she'd seen Han take worse hits here in the Nexus too. So the level of worry she might feel for him could possibly be a little tamed down from what she was feeling at the bar.

Maybe. Only Natasha seems to know what Natasha is feeling.

"Nat?" He says groggily. "Oh, hey ..."

It doesn't occur to him that she definitely bypassed his security to get up here. Or even that she's wearing his own black vest over her jacket. Things are a little hazy for him at the moment. He sits up too fast and feels a wave of dizziness that has him bracing his hand against the wall.

"Were we supposed to be ... meeting up? I'm sorry I forgot." When he's steady Han gropes for the cold bottle and presses it back against his head and offers her a weak smile.

[red_room]

It'll come with time, these things he isn't noticing yet. Natasha smiles his way, taking the few steps into the room she needs to in order to be at his bedside. She sets his cube down on the shelf over his bed, leaning over to give him a once over.

"Nope." She pops the 'p' sound as the word rolls off her lips. "I ran into a few of your friends and decided to come see how you were doing." A lock of red hair is twirled around her finger while she studies him.

"Need that looked at?" Play your cards right and you could have your head in the lap of a widow, Han. For better or for worse.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Nat leaning to do anything makes a nice view. Does she know that? She must know that. A likely concussed Han doesn't have enough composure to not at least take a look. It's arguable that the not concussed Han probably doesn't have enough composure not to look either.

Though, his eyes are noticing that vest looks a little big for her. And that it looks a lot like ... oh. It is his.

"You found my stuff." He says with that slight smile morphing into a more familiar one. "I bet you asked those guys real nicely for it back ..."

At her mention of his head he lowers the bottle away, then he begins the fools errand of trying to look up at his own forehead. Hard to tell if that's him trying to be funny or if he couldn't remember he can't look at his own head. "I can't tell." He says with a shrug. "Does it seem bad? Kinda hurts, but not the worst I've had."

[red_room]

"You know I did. I'm the spitting image of diplomacy."

Who's going to say she isn't? Certainly not the goons she left in a drooling heap back at the bar. Not if they know what's good for them. If she hasn't put a healthy wariness of puny humans into them, then she's not doing her job properly.

"Here, just a moment." Natasha doesn't bother taking the vest off just yet, turning and heading out of his room. "Where do you keep your medical supplies?" She calls out from just beyond the doorway. Wouldn't be the first and won't be the last head injury she treats.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"Passed the galley, not far from the loading door." He would have given her better directions, but it hurts his head to yell.

Natasha will find bulk of all the first aid supplies is kept by the empty bacta tank. It's in a large disorganized footlocker, but he happens to keep it loaded, so at least there's likely to be a little bit of anything she could possibly want. There are smaller kits in the cabin that she just walked out of and another in the cockpit too.

Han presses the bottle back against his head while he waits for Natasha to come back.

[red_room]

He's left to his own muddled thoughts for a moment or two while Natasha makes herself at home browsing through his supplies on the ship. There's plenty in here that she really doesn't know what it could be used for, but luckily some of the staples of a first aid kit seem to be the same from world to world.

Bandages, disinfectant, some kind of tube of something that smells mildly like Neosporin but probably isn't. Well, definitely isn't considering branding and all of that. She collects a handfull ofthings before coming back to Han's bed.

"Sit up for me, will you?" She's going to take a seat on the bed next to him, before wrangling him so he's got his head resting in her lap. "Tell me what this stuff is for." Namely the tube of something that was in several of the kits, as well as a few other injectors and things she isn't sure what they do. The bandages and gauze she does not need educating on.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Han scoots obediently to make room for Natasha on the bed. Head injury or not, there was no situation that he could think of where she wanted to get into a bed with him and he was going to say no. He puts up no resistance against the wrangling either. Whatever she has planned, and he seems to have no idea despite yelling about medical supplies only a minute ago, he trusts her.

Han looks over at the tube and he knows just by the glowing blue-green color, exactly what he's looking at. "That's Bacta." He murmurs. "It will heal you from almost anything."

His eyes then wander from the tube to her and he purses his lips. "You know, not a lot of people I know would go out of their way for me like this." Not a lot of people at home, anyway. He's made a surprising number of good friends in the Nexus that would, however. Kinda funny how that works.

"Anyway, uh ... thanks."

[red_room]

"It's hardly out of the way, you know. I was looking for you anyway."

Her smile is softer than it usually is, or maybe it's just the odd angle he's seeing it from, resting with his head in her lap like he is. She studies the goop for a moment, one eyebrow raising slightly.

"Externally applied?" She'd assume so, considering it's in a cream-ish form. If it will heal almost anything then she's going to be smearing a bead of it on his noggin where he's got that bump.

Her touch is gentle while she works, putting a bit of the gauze on the wound to keep the goo in place, and then bandaging him up. It's basic first aid treatment, but she's had to make do with far less out in the field.

"I might have given your 'friends' a bit of a rough introduction to the floor. They weren't interested in talking, funnily enough." Not that she really gave them much of a chance. The pad of her thumb brushes against his lower lip for a moment. "All done. You'll live."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"Yeah, this kind goes on the wound."

He winces when the bacta gets smeared on the bump and bruise on his head, but doesn't cry out. She's got a far more gentle hand than he expected considering how rough he's seen it be at other times. He's not really observing what she's doing very closely and it's questionable if he'll remember much of this tomorrow.

In fact, he might be kinda zoning out until her touch brings him back to the here and now. "I don't know if I would even remember who hit me if I was looking at them." He murmurs. "Was over before it started."

[red_room]

"It was for them, too."

The smile she gives Han now is much more common on her face. Confident, and just a tad dangerous. The smile of a predator who knows she's at the top of her food chain. They'll think twice about messing with Han Solo again, if for no other reason than the retribution from the redhead in the leather is not worth the hassle. He may be missing Chewie for muscle but Natasha does in a pinch.

"Think of it this way, with the booze in your system you probably won't even feel the worst of it, depending on how well that stuff works at treating wounds." There's a hint of a chuckle bubbling up and she finally shucks out of his vest, folding it up and tucking it under his head for a makeshift pillow. A bit more of one than her muscular thighs, at least.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Natasha more than does in a pinch, but he'd prefer that she'd have a whole different function altogether than the ones he tends to keep in mind for Chewbacca. Even with his head feeling all scrambled the way that it does right now, he must know that he must come off ... weak to her.

It was a sad day for Han's ego when he realized that the Black Widow was surrounded by men who compared closer to gods than to someone like him.

For a minute he's trying to spit something to acknowledge that very point, but he struggling with the words. He blames it on his head feeling like jelly, but it's something he probably would have a hard time saying no matter how well he thought it over. After a moment he just kinda sighs and gives up.

"Suppose I can count myself lucky tonight." He murmurs. "Is there a finder's fee for your good deed? There's a lot of money in that cube. ... I think."

[red_room]

It's true, Natasha works alongside men out of legend. And a literal god in one sense when one takes Thor into account, but those things aren't what Natasha would point out about her friends. She'd talk about Tony's 36 hour science binges with his hair a mess and raccoon eyes. Steve's list and trying to help him make this time feel more of a home. Sam's veterans group meetings and the work he does for his community. Thor puzzling his way through a newspaper asking about every third thing he read.

Barton's family. Banner's meditation room.

Natasha misses those men like she does a missing limb, but people like Han have made the Nexus feel more like a home than a prison. She's accepted here, too. It's more important to her than all of those rippling pectorals Han wishes he had when he thinks about her former coworkers.

"There is, but I'll settle for this instead." Her voice drops to a murmur before she bends forward, nearly folding herself in half to lean down and press a kiss onto Han's lips.

Not

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Now she's playing to one of Han's strengths. He wouldn't call it a superpower or anything, but he's damn good at kissing. In some respects, he's able to say far more about his feelings on a touch of his lips than he can with his words. This one ... this one would tell her that 'I'm glad you're here.'

It's also, probably, a little bit boozy. Though that couldn't possibly have taken her by surprise.

"Well now, I know I'm lucky." He says definitively, smiling his trademark smile up at her when the kiss breaks. "I can spot something that's one of a kind when I'm looking at it."

[red_room]

There's concern, worry, and relief in her own actions. Natasha is still working on expressing herself truthfully in any given situation, let alone one that would show her own vulnerabilities. It's a concentrated effort she's making at it.

"You are."

Her eyes wrinkle a bit at suppressing a grin when she sees the look on his face. Han is something else, alright. And fun is definitely part of that something.

"Lucky, that is."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Han purses his lips thoughtfully. It takes a special kind of woman to make him feel this way. Like he was a kid again who had no ideas which one of his lines were going to work and what she was going to find charming. Afraid to mess up.

He'd have thought by now he'd have her figured out a little bit better. But no. Not really. She's hardly any less of a mystery than she was when he met her.

"Hey Natasha." He says finally. "Why don't you stay awhile? I've missed you."

[red_room]

"Don't sulk, you just got a kiss Buster."

She pokes Han in his cheek and smiles a bit wider, obviously teasing now. Her face is gentler when she's teasing, words losing some of their edge and eyes losing some of their piercing qualities. It's a subtle change, but it's there all the same.

She makes a show of thinking about his request, tapping her finger to her chin and humming faux thoughtfully. But only for a moment. She reclines back, letting her back rest against the wall.

"Guess it'd be irresponsible of me to leave a concussed man all by himself with nothing for company." Nothing but her taps, that is.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"I'm not sulking, I'm trying to play on your sympathies." He says with a smile. It's always easier when he thinks she's loosening up. "It's not the same thing."

"Besides, there are good reasons for you to stay around. Opportunity for a hot shower literally a few feet away from you. Choice of buck, which ... yeah they're a little small, but I'll bet the spy of spies has slept in worse. The liquor stash has been recently resupplied. And footrubs that will go on till a certain Corellian's hands start cramping."

[red_room]

"It looks the same from up here."

He's got plenty to smile about. Looking up at Natasha from this angle can't be a bad view. Not that any of them are for Han, but all things considered....

"I'm liking this." Natasha nods along with what Han is saying and then actually laughs at the end. It's the sort of expression that makes her whole face light up--genuine. It would take entirely too much effort to fake that. "I didn't take you as the foot rub kind of guy, Solo."

Her hand brushes gently through his hair while she talks, smile still on her face.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"Listen, I still don't fully grasp the superhero thing."

At this point, however, it's less of a matter of understanding what they do. People have explained that a few times and he's more or less got the gist of it. It's the why she does it that still baffles him.

"... but I do know that it involves a bit of running and that your feet are often crammed into shoes with heels." He says with a shrug. This is Han Solo trying to be thoughtful. Though, he might be terrible at it. Nat's not wrong that it's not the kind of thing he does very often.

[red_room]

"I did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of before I got into the whole 'saving the world' career."

Natasha's voice has gone quiet, her fingers continuing their gentle stroking of Han's hair. She looks a bit distant for a moment, before she glances down and meets Han's gaze again. This time when she smiles, it's a look that should be familiar to Han. The smile people give when they're remembering unpleasant things. The 'it can't be helped' sort of smile.

Strained.

"I do what I do now to wipe the red out of my ledger."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Dazed and a little mentally off that he might be, he can see that her mind is wandering off to places that she'd probably rather forget. It's an easy enough look and feeling for Han to empathize with because he's been there too. He's done things he's not proud of ... not even to get ahead in life, but simply to keep on scraping by.

Gambling might be deplorable by some people's standards, but it does teach you one important thing about life: you can only play the hand you're dealt.

He bumps his head against her hand like a house animal seeking more pets and he shoots her a lazy smile. "I can only hope I don't get the same attack of conscience you did." He says finally. "I'd have a lot of work to do."

[red_room]

Her smile turns warm once more, a slow transition that seems to light up her face little by little until the ghosts of her own mind seem once more far away. Or at least driven off for the time being. Natasha's nails drag gently against his scalp as she continues to run her fingers through his hair.

"We could make a game out of it if you did." She teases, a dig at her own sins perhaps, but one that is made in good humor rather than guilt. "I do enjoy competing with you."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

He's into her playing with his hair. If she's ever questioned it before, she won't be after this evening. Probably. For a guy with a bandage wrapped around his head, he sure seems pretty happy.

"Han Solo as a good guy?" He says almost as if he can't believe the idea of it. "I don't know. I kinda tried that once. I think it ended up worse when I did ..."