Chapter Text
The urge to nest had been bothering Han for almost a week now. He knew, in the back of his head, that the urge meant he was in preheat, but he really wasn’t going to let himself hide in the Falcon for a week, pretending like he didn’t have things to do.
But the urge was overwhelming now. Han could feel it gnawing at the pit of his stomach, along with the beginnings of his heat; the feeling was a restless anxiety and restless urge to do something.
Huffing and getting up from where he was meant to be relaxing in the captain’s chair after fixing some faulty wiring in the Falcon’s cooling system, he walked down the corridor and pulled up the cover to one of the smuggling compartments with a grunt. It was empty, not having seen much use since he joined the rebellion. A little dusty but otherwise clean. Hidden. Safe.
Han dropped his pillow and blanket into the hole. If this is where Han’s hindbrain wanted him to spend his heat, who was Han to deny it. He’d come a long way from Corellia and Qi’ra and their singular bunk where anyone could walk in on her helping him through his heat, but it seemed his mind still hadn’t adjusted to the fact he was safe here. Well, as safe as one could be, in the rebellion.
Chewie was somewhere else on the base, which meant Han could raid his room. He wasn’t sure if it was unusual for an omega to want the scents of many different people around them, even non-humans, but his nests always felt the best when he could smell his family all around him. He grabbed Chewie’s blanket and pillow, standing for a minute to debate taking the fitted sheet but deciding against it. It was too much of a hassle and he had two new scents to add to his nest this heat, he would be fine without it.
He pressed his face into the pillow to take a deep inhale of Chewie’s scent, reveling in the familiar smell. Chewie smelled like motor oil and fur and something else that was distinctly Wookiee. It was what home had smelled like for the last ten years. Sighing, Han dropped Chewie’s things into the compartment and contemplated when he had last taken his birth control. It wasn’t yesterday, and certainly not the day before, but if he took two today, he’d be fine, right? It almost made Han long for his days in the imperial navy, where he was kept on heat suppressants, but he shuddered remembering how bad the heat afterward had been. Without Qi’ra he’d had to go to Lando, cramping and feeling slick drip down his thighs, hoping the man wouldn’t take advantage of him.
Grabbing Lando’s things was easy. He had never cleaned out his closet after Han took his ship and even though those clothes were almost ten years old by now, Lando liked to leave Han a shirt or cape whenever they spent time together. Whether Lando knew he brought them into his nest during heats or just left them around to mark his territory was unimportant; Han was grateful. Not that he’d ever tell Lando that. He grabbed the lilac cape that had been hung up in the closet a few months ago and pressed it to his nose, breathing in the scent of linen and something smoky that always followed Lando around before tossing it into the smuggling compartment.
Now, getting Luke and Leia’s scents in his nest would be more tricky. Neither of them stayed on the Falcon, and Han didn’t exactly know where they were staying, let alone their room codes. Plus, walking around the rebellion base smelling like he did was not Han’s idea of a good time.
His scent suppressants had gone missing over a tenday ago. Well— missing was relative. Chewie could probably find them if Han bothered to ask him to look, but his pride and the assurances he’d made to his hairy friend that ‘yes, I am going off my scent suppressors willingly, I think being drug free would be good for my system’ with his fingers crossed behind his back meant that wasn’t possible. Curse past him and his procrastination problem.
Comming Luke wouldn’t be a problem. Han was sure the beta would lend him a jacket or blanket or something if it would help Han through his heat, but the princess was a different story. She’d started giving him looks ever since he’d come off his scent suppressants and she had finally noticed he was an omega. If Han really thought about it, the looks might be about the fact he was in preheat and ignoring it, but it could just as easily be that as her thinking him less capable than another alpha or beta. Han wasn't very inclined to believe that someone who called Chewie a walking carpet on first introduction wasn’t probably a bigot in another way.
He rumbled in frustration— a noise he’d picked up from Chewie— stomping back to his room. He pulled out the stack of blankets Chewie had gotten him when they had first gotten the Falcon, just in case Han wanted to nest like a good omega should, rather than shacking up with a rando he’d picked up at a bar. If Han was honest with himself, he’d always preferred the heats he had on the Falcon. The familiar setting calmed something inside of him and Lando— the only alpha Han had ever let fuck him on the Falcon— was, admittedly, a good alpha. Too bad he was playing by the rules now. Not to mention, the last time they’d talked was... not pretty.
Han threw the blankets into the smuggling compartment and lowered himself inside after them. The compartment wasn’t exactly tall— the walls only came up to his armpits when he stood— but whatever his hindbrain wanted, Han was going to have to provide. Setting up a nest was never something Han had been particularly good at. His nests never looked pretty or elegant or clean, but he made them work. Arranging the blankets and pillows around the compartment in whatever order would appease his omega brain, Han contemplated what lay ahead. Usually in this situation, Han would be flying to a seedy bar on a seedy planet to for a seedy alpha to fuck him. Unfortunately, a snowstorm had come in the night before and was forecast to last at least a week and there was no way anyone was granting Han clearance to take off.
And the alternative: fucking someone on base. He’d considered it, of course he had, but it was completely off the table. Han had a policy: there was no way in hell he was going to fuck anyone he might have to talk with again later. It just led to knothead alphas feeling entitled to his body and Han wasn’t doing that again.
So here he was. Sitting in one of the Falcon’s smuggling compartments, getting ready to ride his heat out with nothing but toys. It certainly wasn’t any omega’s favorite way to spend a heat but it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. With the way he never tracked his heats and Chewie doing his best to make sure Han didn’t sleep with any shady people, Han had weathered multiple heats with just a knotting dildo and his fingers.
Flopping down once his nest was as complete as it was going to get for now, he pressed his face into the closest blanket. It was one of his designated nesting blankets so he couldn’t smell anything but Han assumed it probably smelled like him. He’d been told during a heat once that he smelled like delicate jogan fruits and honey, and since Han wasn’t exactly going to ask someone what he smelled like— nor had he ever actually smelled a jogan fruit— he supposed that was the best he was going to get.
Han climbed out of his nest and traipsed into his bedroom, where his compad and birth control were.
The birth control was easy. Han took three from the bottle and dry swallowed them. That should make up for his missed days, right?
The compad was harder. How was he supposed to write this message to Luke? ‘Hi, I’m horny and needy and I just need your jacket so I can sit next to it and feel safe whilst I get myself off’? It was stupid.
Han flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d never had to do anything like this before. He’s never had a group of people he could almost call a pack. As much as being in the rebellion made him nervous (one of Jabba’s goons could pop up any time to take back what the Hutt was owed) the people here were some of the best Han had ever met. It wasn’t exactly a high bar, as a street rat turned imperial soldier turned smuggler, but the kindness he had been shown in his few months in the rebellion was nice, even if Han didn’t think it was deserved most of the time.
Han could feel the beginnings of heat gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Soon he would be slick and open and wanting. He didn’t have time to put this off.
He groaned and opened the device, finding Luke’s contact
H.Solo: hey kid
H.Solo: you know that jacket I lent you for the ceremony?
H.Solo: the yellow one?
H.Solo: I need it back for something
H.Solo: pretty urgently
It was seconds before he got a reply from Luke
L.Skywalker: of course!
L.Skywalker: I'm glad you messaged me now, I’m about to start combat practice with my squadron
L.Skywalker: Leia should be free, I’ll ask her to bring it to you
Kriff.
H.Solo: Kid
H.Solo: You don’t need to do that
H.Solo: I’ve got it under control, actually
But it seemed Luke had already started his training.
He really didn’t need that temptation around. Leia, who smelled like leather and something earthy that was unidentifiable to Han. He wasn’t sure there was any scent better than it. In his weaker moments Han could admit to wanting to press his face into her neck and drown in her smell, and this was certainly one of his weaker moments.
But as much as he wanted her, Han couldn’t let himself. Whenever he let an alpha with any power over him into one of his heats it always ended up with he and Chewie being blackmailed and Han having to do things he didn’t want to. Han would stick to fucking strangers he picked in bars, thank you very much, even if it dissapointed Chewie.
Han whined in the back of his throat and got up to pace. There was no way he could let Leia see him in this state.
Taking deep breaths to calm himself down— Leia didn’t need to be smelling a distressed omega along with one going into heat— Han left his room and walked back to the smuggling compartments, tugging the metal cover back over his nest.
Moving to the ‘fresher, Han took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. His face was flushed and his hair was messy. He looked exactly how he felt: hot and out of control. It was a look Han wore a lot whilst working on the Falcon, though, so Han hoped he wouldn’t look too bad.
There was no way to disguise his scent, but Han hoped if he looked out together enough, Leia would assume he had a plan for his heat beyond fucking himself on a toy.
Alphas love to butt their heads in where they don’t belong, especially if they think it’s good for an omega, and the princess was definitely one of those righteous types.
Han froze from where he was trying to tidy up his hair when he heard the entrance ramp to the Falcon being lowered. Kriff. Either Chewie was back or Luke had given Leia the code for his ship. Either way Han wasn’t particularly enthused.
Straightening his shirt to make himself look as presentable as possible, he walked to the ramp, clearing his throat loudly. “Entering someone’s ship without knocking is rude, you know? I could’ve been naked”