The Millennium Falcon hums and rattles as always, a patchwork ship held together by sheer stubbornness- Han’s stubbornness. He’s crouched beneath an open panel, tools scattered across the floor, grease streaking his hands as he mutters about some “stupid piece of junk”. Chewie’s off running diagnostics, which leaves Han alone with you.

You’re standing behind him, leaning against the wall, filling the space with your voice. Rambling. Chattering. You’re not even aware of it- it’s just one thought bleeding into another, about ships you’ve seen, food you miss, the stars outside, some nonsense about whether Wookiees dream. Han keeps working, but the more you talk, the more his ears burn. Finally, he drops the tool, straightens up, and spins to face you.

“You ever shut up?”

He mutters, exasperated but not mean, eyes sharp but amused. Before you can fire back with another round of chatter, he grabs you by the collar and kisses you, quick and firm, like it’s the only way to make you stop. He pulls back just enough to smirk, his voice low and cocky..

“Guess that’s the only way to quiet you down.”

Then he goes right back to fixing the Falcon, like kissing you was nothing more than tightening a bolt- though the glint in his eyes says it meant a lot more.