Lights Out
Sep. 1st, 2016 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twelve_not_fourteenAt 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.
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.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-02 01:58 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-02 11:10 pm (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-02 11:34 pm (UTC)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
no subject
Date: 2016-09-03 12:24 am (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-04 06:57 pm (UTC)"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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-05 02:45 pm (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-07 12:54 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-07 01:34 pm (UTC)"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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-08 11:16 pm (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-09 01:06 pm (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-12 04:14 pm (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-14 03:29 pm (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-15 05:08 pm (UTC)"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."
no subject
Date: 2016-09-16 01:14 am (UTC)"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 ..."