Archive of Our Own ^beta

Leia was doing a good job of playing along with the nonsense that had presented itself to them, but Han’s patience had run out. He had been kicked out of his own ship, though Chewie would definitely say he had only been denied entry and to stop being dramatic. Han found it insulting either way. It was one thing if the kid or Chewie had wanted to use the Falcon while everyone had crashed in the Ewok village for the few nights after the battle; it was another entirely to bar Han from his ship when he and Leia were trying to get ready to leave the moon in the morning.

“Kicked outta my own ship,” Han grumbled as they traipsed through the woods on a Leia-prescribed walk. They had started out holding hands, but she soon moved closer, tucking herself under his arm and slipping her own arm around his waist. He had been more than glad to rest a hand on her back, forever grateful for just how comfortable they were with one another.

“We were told to come back in half an hour so they can feed us,” Leia said blithely. “I don’t know what part of that request translates to being kicked out.”

Han mumbled something expressing general discontent before saying, “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Leia scoffed and he didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. “I’m marrying you. I think that’s about as on-your-side as one can be.”

A smile erupted across Han’s face despite his efforts to maintain a grumpy demeanor. He hadn’t set out to ask her the night before. How the words had left his mouth remained a complete mystery to Han, but he had meant them and she had said yes (another mystery). They planned to tell Luke and Chewie the news that afternoon, but after being banned from the Falcon, Han was rethinking including them so soon. He knew they were trying to be nice; they wanted one last meal together before Leia and Han — and by extension, Chewie — were required to be back on Home One for strategy meetings, but they were going about their niceties in an extremely annoying way. Why their cooking required that he not be allowed on his own ship, Han couldn’t begin to guess. It continued to rankle, though being with Leia as she pressed herself close to him and pointed out interesting foliage was a satisfactory balm for his irritation.

The half hour passed quicker than Han expected. Leia seemed to have that effect, making the intolerable actually enjoyable, and by the time they were back at the Falcon, he was almost disappointed to see the ramp down, an indication that his alone time with her would be put on hold for the evening. He paused right outside the ship, catching Leia lightly by the wrist. “Hey,” he said quietly once she turned to face him. “I love you.” He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, palm cupping her cheek.

Leia beamed in a way that always seemed reserved for Han exclusively. She rocked up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I know,” she said softly, nudging his cheek affectionately with her nose. Han felt his heart swell. “I love you, too.”

[You’re late], Chewie grumbled from the top of the ramp in a tone that Han knew meant he was hungry to the point of irritation.

Han turned toward the Falcon. “Well, we didn’t wanna chance gettin’ here early and being kicked out again. Thought we’d be fashionably late.”

[We did not kick you out; you were simply denied entry while we discussed things that did not require your input. Stop being dramatic.]

Han shook his head and took Leia’s hand before boarding the ship. Whatever Chewie and the kid had cooked up smelled good, though Han would bet a month’s credits that Luke had only contributed by doing exactly what Chewie had told him to do. He had eaten the kid’s cooking before, and there was no way anything Luke came up with on his own would smell as appetizing as whatever was waiting for them in the galley.

The kid was standing in the lounge looking nervous, and Han felt the nearly irresistible urge mess with him. Leia won’t like that, he thought absently, and decided to hold out for a few minutes before poking at the younger man. He at least needed to know what Luke was so antsy about if he wanted to irritate him efficiently.

Luke pulled Leia into a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek before releasing her. He approached Han, and Han braced himself for a similar embrace, sans kiss. He was greeted, instead, with Luke’s outstretched hand.

Confused, Han shook the younger man’s hand, keeping his questions to himself. He couldn’t remember ever shaking Luke’s hand. Ever since the first Death Star, he had had to endure tackling embraces from Luke and Leia at a frequency similar to those afternoon family holos where everything was solved through talking and hugging. Even Chewie had become more affectionate since being around those two. Han had long since welcomed contact with Leia, and he had always tolerated Luke’s affection with mild eye rolls and grumbling. He hadn’t wanted it replaced by handshakes, though, no matter how much he complained. Who does he think we are?

“Apologies for taking over the ship,” Luke said far-too formally. “Chewie and I had some things we needed to discuss privately. It was our only option.”

Han looked from Luke to Leia, putting no energy in attempting to hide his bafflement at the kid’s stilted tone. Leia appeared equally flummoxed, though Han didn’t know if the others would pick up on her confusion quite like he did. She, per usual, smoothed her outward display of emotions over well.

“No problem, kid,” Han said, his tone far more relaxed than he felt. His mind whirred, looking for some joke or bit of information he could share that would throw Luke off, maybe make him feel awkward, but the only topics he could think of immediately ran the risk of making Leia uncomfortable, and he wasn’t willing to do that.

Leia, who tended to project irritation outward any time she felt confused, stared at Han in disbelief. “You have done nothing but complain about being kicked out of your own ship for the past half hour.”

Han shrugged. The kid was acting weird. He didn’t know what Leia expected him to do, but the idea of continuing to gripe felt odd. Instead, he slid his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Not the whole half hour,” he pointed out mildly. “There were a good few minutes where talkin’ wasn’t much of an option.”

Leia swatted his shoulder, though she didn’t seem upset. She actually suppressed a giggle, and Han wondered if their talking about marriage had done something to both of their brains.

Luke grimaced. “Gross.”

[Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Princess, will you help me pick out a wine to go with it? I found a few bottles in the back of a cupboard, but I don’t think I will pick the right one.]

Leia raised her eyebrows and sent a suspicious look Han’s way before nodding. “Sure, Chewie. I can help with that.” She followed Chewie toward the galley, and Han stared after her.

Luke cleared his throat, capturing Han’s attention. He gestured to the dejarik table. “Can we sit? I need to talk to you about something.”

The kid’s tone was so serious, Han didn’t have it in him to poke fun at him. “Sure, Luke.” Han slid into the booth and Luke sat across from him. “What’s goin’ on?”

Luke stared at his hands for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet Han’s. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Leia.”

“She already told me about you two, kid. And Vader.”

Luke shook his head. “That’s not what this is about. Or, well, maybe it sort of is. But I’m not just telling you that we’re twins. I…” He trailed off and averted his eyes, and Han was momentarily reminded of the once-naive farmboy he and Chewie had picked up on Tatooine a lifetime ago. Luke had been forever changed by events Han still wasn’t entirely clear on, but apparently whatever this thing was that he needed to talk about had sapped him of some of his confidence.

Luke sat up straight and looked at Han, most of his surety somehow returned. It was a movement intended to project assertiveness that Han recognized, but not from Luke; the kid had undoubtedly learned it from Leia. “I want to know what your intentions are with my sister.”

Han refrained from saying the first, second, and third things that came to mind before looking incredulously at Luke. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, kid?”

Luke’s calm demeanor seemed to waver for a moment as soon as Han questioned him. “I just—ah—I need to know what your intentions are with my—”

“Yeah, you said. I wanna know what that’s supposed to mean.”

A pained expression crossed Luke’s face. “It’s a pretty standard question, Han.”

Han’s eyebrows shot up. “For who?”

“For—ah—family members of…” Luke trailed off.

The silence was awkward, but Han could wait. He had no problem with letting people sit with their own ridiculousness for a minute or two, and he had no intention of letting Luke off easy when he knew — he knew — how much Han cared for Leia and was acting like he was a stranger.

“I’m just afraid—Leia didn’t do well when you were away.”

Han set his jaw at the word away. As if I had a choice. “I know.”

“I don’t think it would be good if you left again.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t leavin’.”

“I just—I’m Leia’s only living family at this point, and I intend to look after—”

“Wait a second.” Han held up his hand, effectively silencing Luke. “You’ve been her brother for three days.”

Luke folded his hands in front of him — another Leia move that, when she did it, signaled a devastating verbal blow was about to be unleashed. Han wasn’t sure what it meant when Luke did it. “We shared a womb.”

Han looked at him incredulously. “Oh, you got a lotta memories of that?”

“Well, no, but—“

Leia’s voice suddenly exploded from the corridor leading to the galley, interrupting Luke. “I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, Chewie, least of all Han’s!” She stepped into the lounge, holding a bottle of wine and appearing harangued. Han raised his eyebrows. Chewie and Leia rarely argued, and he couldn’t recall her ever raising her voice at the Wookiee.

She set the wine on the table and slid into the booth next to Han, pressing into his side in a way that felt almost pointed. He looked down at her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Sweetheart,” Han said softly, reaching over to touch her cheek, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Tell you later,” she murmured. She turned her head enough to kiss his wrist before focusing on Luke. “What’ve you two been talking about?”

Luke looked to Han, bewildered. “Luke was askin’ about my intentions with his sister,” Han said casually.

Leia pointed at her chest and mouthed, Me?

Han nodded solemnly. “Think you’re the one he meant, yeah,” he said.

Luke, who had been quiet far longer than usual, sputtered back into the conversation. “I just meant—”

Leia narrowed her eyes and leaned back slightly, cutting Luke off with a mild glare. “What, exactly, did you mean, Luke?” she prodded.

Luke’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Did Chewie talk to you?”

Han looked at Leia quizzically. Did Chewie talk to her? Chewie? Chewie loved Leia. And Chewie knew better than anyone how much Han loved Leia.

An annoyed expression crossed her face. “Chewie’s concerned that my work is going to take precedence over you in my life and you’ll end up heartbroken,” she said right as Chewie himself walked into the lounge.

Luke looked at the Wookiee in confusion while Han stared at the big lug in annoyance. “I thought you were going to ask her about Han,” Luke said.

[I did. I asked her what her long-term plans were with him…]

“Because you’re concerned for Han’s emotional wellbeing,” Leia finished, patting Han’s arm. “It would have been sweet if it hadn’t been entirely insulting.” She raised her voice pointedly on the final words of her sentence while slipping her hand into Han’s.

“I thought you were going to ask what Han’s plans were,” Luke said, his bewilderment obvious.

[Him?] Chewie roared, pointing at Han. [I know what his plans are. He’s been all-in since before Hoth.]

Han rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously while Luke looked from him to Leia to Chewie, then back to Han. “All-in?” he said in disbelief. “You threatened to leave every other day.”

Han ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “To pay off a debt after she almost died ‘cause of me!”

Leia rubbed small circles on his back, her touch and the movement soothing. “He didn’t have much of a choice, Luke. It wasn’t malicious or careless.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Han’s shoulder before focusing back on her brother.

[I thought you were going to talk to him about the princess.]

“I did!” Luke insisted. “Or, I was trying to.”

Understanding regarding their confusion dawning on him, Han turned to Chewie, a wicked smile on his face. “He wants to know my intentions. For the princess.”

[Your intentions?] Chewie growled. [You’re pathetically in love with her.]

“I know, pal. He didn’t—” Han jerked to attention once Chewie’s words sunk in. “Hey! Who’s pathetic?”

“Well…” Leia began, a teasing smile on her lips. She met Han’s gaze, and soon he was smiling wryly along with her.

“Why would I need to ask about Leia’s intentions?” Luke asked. “She just spent a year obsessing over him!”

[The princess has many priorities. I do not want Cub to take a backseat to the others.]

“Chewie,” Leia said, her tone so patient-sounding that Han knew she was about to lose her mind if the conversation continued much longer. “I am not going to break Han’s heart. I am not going to start prioritizing anyone else or anything else over him. I love him more than anything.” She looked at Han again, a slow grin taking over her face. “In fact, we have something to tell you both. We’re getting married.”

Silence enveloped the Falcon for a moment before Luke and Chewie both erupted, speaking over each other, demanding to know why and when and how.

It hadn’t been planned, exactly. They had been in the middle of a mild disagreement about how long they should tell people they had been together. Leia’s estimates skewed about a year longer than Han was comfortable with. “I don’t know if I should be countin’ the time I spent as a wall decoration at Jabba’s,” he pointed out. “I wasn’t conscious, really. And I wasn’t with you exactly.”

Leia’s reasoning was somehow simultaneously logical and moderately unhinged. “No, listen, I’ve thought about this…more than I should have, probably. If we were married for two years and then I was in an accident that left me in a coma for three years, how long would you tell people we were married?” She paused, but Han had gone strangely silent, his mind working away down another path entirely. “I think most people would say five years. I would say five years. I don’t see how this is any different. We were together, you were incapacitated, we’re still together…” She trailed off, apparently concerned by his lack of response. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you wanna get married?” Han blurted out. The shock evident on Leia’s face as soon as he said it made him want to continue talking. “I don’t mean right now. We don’t hafta—I mean, we don’t ever hafta if—I just meant—” What had he meant? He wasn’t entirely sure. She had said the word married and his mind had set off down a tangent imagining that sort of life, and his mouth had apparently decided without his explicit agreement to ask Leia—

And then she nodded.

And he said, “Are you sure?”

And she said, “Yes.”

And he, certain that she had severely misunderstood, said, “To me?”

And she laughed and asked who, exactly, he thought she was agreeing to marry if not him, and she kissed him, at which point he finally believed that she wanted to marry him for some reason.

Hearing that story did not seem to alleviate Luke and Chewie’s concerns.

“You can’t get married!” Luke exclaimed. “You’ve been together for like a month!”

“You’ve been her brother for less than a week and you were already talkin’ about takin’ care of her,” Han mumbled, banking on Leia’s reaction to that detail to shut Luke up.

“Taking care of me?” she sputtered. “I have been saving all three of your asses continuously since the moment I met you.”

“Well—” Han began to argue before cutting himself off. Several instances had come to mind during which he had been the only thing that stood between Leia and certain death, though he wasn’t sure that they needed to have that conversation for the thirtieth time right then.

Leia looked at him, initially annoyed. She bit her lip and suppressed a grin. “I’m speaking generally, not literally,” she said. She tilted her chin up and kissed the edge of Han’s jaw, murmuring, “You always take care of me,” before pulling away to face Luke and Chewie.

Luke seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next, but Chewie, the traitor, did not share his hesitation. [Princess, you don’t have to say yes just because he asked you. If you aren’t ready—]

“All right, everyone listen.” Leia folded her hands in front of her on the table and leaned in slightly, her expression entirely serious. “Han and I have known each other for four years—”

“Kinda three, sweetheart,” Han said.

Leia turned slowly to glare at him before turning back to Luke and Chewie, and Han knew better than to say another word. “Han and I have known each other for years. We have been through more together than most people. We were good friends for years. We’re also adults who can handle our own business.” She turned to Luke. “I know most of your freshest memories of us together are from Hoth, and I know you were concerned by just how hard I took losing Han after Cloud City. It’s understandable that you’d want to make sure that he isn’t going anywhere, but Luke, if you think we haven’t already had that conversation…well, that’s just insulting.”

“I already said I was comin’ back to stay if I got outta Jabba’s alive,” Han added. That had been one of their earliest relationship-centered conversations, one they had had sitting in the very booth in which they currently sat during the trip to Bespin.

Leia looked up at him and nodded approvingly. She turned her attention to Chewie. “Chewie, I know you love Han and want to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I also love him and want the same. And I didn’t spend a year of my life trying to get him back, and take leave from the Alliance for over a month with no promises that I’d even be allowed back in leadership just so I could turn around and treat him like he doesn’t matter to me.”

She sat up a little straighter and looked around the table. “Han and I have decided to get married, and we very much want you two to be happy for us. But what we’re not going to do is sit here and listen to you list every reason you can think of as to why it’s a bad idea. Your concern is noted, but we are intelligent adults who are making a private decision that does not require your input. Nor did we ask for it.” Leia leaned back into Han, sliding her arm across his back. “Now, I think we should eat dinner and have a conversation that is halfway sane, because whatever this is has caused some of the beings at this table to sound unhinged.”

Luke and Chewie exchanged glances before standing almost in tandem.

[The food should be ready. I will bring out plates.]

“I’ll help,” Luke added. He paused awkwardly before looking at Leia and Han. “Ah, congratulations,” he said with a nod.

[Congratulations,] Chewie echoed, sounding somewhat chastised.

Han leaned down and kissed a spot in front of Leia’s ear before saying, “You handled that beautifully.”

She laughed softly. “I felt like my father when he had to reign in any histrionics that might pop up during meals with the extended family.”

“I’m sure you never had to be reigned in, though,” Han said solemnly.

Leia nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Of course not.” She laughed again and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s nice to have family again. Even if they’re being ridiculous.”

“Sure is,” he agreed. “But if Luke tries to threaten me with his lightsaber on your behalf, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Tell him I scare you more than he ever could.”

Han laughed loudly, wrapped his arms around her in a hug and kissed her hair. He was happy, of course, to have stumbled into the family he had, but he was especially glad Leia was at the center of it.