When she married Han Solo, a Corellian with a questionable background, far below her in station – in the eyes of most – Leia Organa faced considerable side-eyed looks, clicking tongues, and unwanted haughty critiques, and so she was no stranger to the uphill battles a so-called socially mismatched relationship had to fight.

Because she was so well-versed in weathering the vast differences between herself and Han – a skill sharpened by always being on his side and facing it together – she was completely unprepared for the fact that parenthood was the one thing that ended up illustrating their social dichotomy to the point that it created a frustrating amount of discord between them, rather than from those around them.

The most absurd arguments seemed to crop up – both of them drew on their own childhood experiences, took certain things for granted, and then assumed their point of view was the right one – Leia wanted Ben using proper Basic and speaking to adults politely and with appropriate titles; Han was unfazed if he repeated swear words in whatever language he heard his father say them.

There were other things, too – and they tried to keep their bickering to a minimum, in low voices and behind closed doors, so their son wouldn't hear them, but the latest battle kept bursting onto center stage right in front of the three-year-old – Ben's eating habits, of all things.

For weeks, Leia had been at her wit's end about the toddler's completely haywire eating schedule; she would come home, and more often than not he'd refuse dinner, only to refuse to go to bed later because he was hungry – or worse, wake up after he'd been put to bed whining and crying for supper, though he'd insisted he didn't want it.

Leia wasn't one to make her child eat if he wasn't hungry, but she was losing sleep and losing her mind, and she'd started to think there was something medically wrong with him until she'd discovered Han was letting Ben snack indiscriminately throughout the day – any snack he wanted, whether it be fruit, or sweets, or crisps –

Two confrontations about it had already turned into bitter, tense little arguments – Ben was little, he needed to learn good eating habits; that mean breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and a nice occasional snack in the afternoon – Han was spoiling him and ruining his appetite by feeding him all hours of the day –

And of course, Han thought she sounded completely insane, and it had only been worse this evening when – once again – Ben had picked at dinner, whining and fussing and rejecting Leia's attempts to feed him because Han had already given him something earlier, even though Leia was home at a regular hour and it was so, so important to her that they had dinner together –

She'd put Ben in bed with the sharp promise that he wasn't going to get anything when he woke up starving later, and Han had unexpectedly lost his temper with her, storming out and slamming the door loud enough to wake the dead.

Leia was tired, and she was frustrated – and it was only because these little, petty arguments were building up and getting to her and making her doubt their whole relationship that she ended up confiding in Luke when he asked if she was okay.

She made it a point to keep her fights with Han private – these days at least - but overwhelmed with how crazy such a strange, silly point of contention was making her, she'd spilled, cleaning up the remnants of dinner as Luke looked at her quietly.

" – he's got to stop, Luke," she growled, slamming a cup down. "Ben's teeth are going to rot and he's going to screw his metabolism –"

Luke smiled a little indulgently.

"He's just a baby, Leia," he soothed.

"He's not a baby; he walks, he talks, he's pretty smart – he's not an infant, he doesn't need to eat all the time, and Han's so…he just caters to him like he's a little king, and toddlers need structure and discipline – "

"Did you have a lot of that?" Luke asked.

Leia flicked water at him.

"As a matter-of-fact, I did," she said shortly. "Eating late at night is bad nutrition," she said, holding up figners, "Ben getting too much sugar ruins his nap schedule, makes him cranky," she listed, "Han never makes him eat vegetables, he gives him food whenever he wants it – and I try to drill it into Ben's head that he can't run the household like this, and Han," Leia threw her hand towards the door, "acts like I'm abusing him."

Luke leaned forward, head on his palm, and considered her.

"Hmm," he mumbled thoughtfully. "Leia – didn't all this start when Ben started talking more?"

She shrugged irritably.

"Yes, I suppose."

Luke arched his brows.

"So, Ben can tell Han that he's hungry?" he ventured slowly.

Leia looked at him through her lashes, annoyed. She shrugged again, and nodded – that appeared to be exactly what the little sweet-talker was doing, turning up cute, puckered faces at his father and getting away with whatever he wanted until Mommy came home to storm around being the mean one.

Luke laughed, shaking his head, and she glared at him.

"What?" she snapped.

Luke held his hand out.

"You see why Han's doing that, don't you?" he asked, as if it were obvious.

Leia sighed and put her hands on her hips, giving her brother a look – his matter-of-fact tone only annoyed her more, and she waited, shaking her head, her jaw tight. She had no idea why Han seemed to think Ben needed to be stuffed like a suckling pig –

"Leia, Han grew up starving!"

Even as Luke started to explain, Leia realized it –

"He hears Ben say he's hungry, and it's just instinctual to make sure he's not," Luke said, exasperated. "That's his kid, and he doesn't want him feeling that – and you sending Ben to bed without dinner tonight had to have really ticked him off."

Leia stood staring at Luke, her posture relaxing slightly – and she remembered how perceptive Luke always seemed to be about the people around him, and she reprimanded herself for being so dense, so unbelievably dense –

There were so many things Han did concerning Ben that were directly related to his childhood experiences, and this was just another thing she'd overlooked –

She sighed, and her hand slid down to her hip for a moment. She reached up and rubbed her forehead, and looked behind her towards the hall, where down at the end in the back bedroom, Ben slept. She frowned to herself.

She blinked, and her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. She looked back to Luke, and he leaned back, eyes wide, shaking his head at her.

"Leia – what – why are you…crying," he fumbled, a pained expression on his face – Leia had become much more prone to tears since Ben was born, and it still completely caught Luke off guard – usually because more often than not, she started tearing up for very odd –

"That's so sweet," she said, biting her lip empathetically.

Luke raised is eyebrow at the complete turnaround, and then shook his head. He sighed – well, at least she wasn't angry at Han anymore, per se.

Leia leaned against the counter in front of her, putting her hand to her neck thoughtfully – she'd clearly been going about this the wrong way – and she realized Ben being able to vocalize a lot of his needs must be affecting Han differently now, particularly in that regard; before he was talking so well, Leia had been the one who determined what he wanted, using a mix of maternal identification of his different types of crying and the Force – now Han was home with him more than she was, and he was trying to make sure he did everything right –

She pressed her lips together – she could fix this, she could talk Han through whatever was getting to him about this – she could at least make sure they had their last fight on this topic.

Han strolled back in to the apartment extremely late, probably having anticipated her being asleep by the time he returned. She wasn't - but she deliberately did not start anything with him right away; she let him drag his feet around getting ready for bed with a wary look on his face, as if he were waiting for her to pounce.

She simply waited until he brushed his teeth and turned off the bathroom light, sitting atop the covers thoughtfully as he took his spot in bed laid down, evidently planning on going to sleep angry with her.

She looked down at her hands for a moment, and then turned, laying on her side and reaching for his shoulders.

"Han?" she asked quietly, keeping her voice calm, and non-combative.

He didn't react for a moment, until she touched his shoulder and pulled on him a little. He turned over, his expression guarded. He seemed to take an internal breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She blinked at him, and realized he'd interpreted her sudden softness not as a white flag, but as a sign of distress, and she was struck by how wonderful it was of him to put aside his anger if he thought she needed him to be there for her.

It – in fact, it had the exact kind of tearing up effect on her that Luke had been perturbed by earlier –

"Leia?" he asked, lifting his head. He reached out and rested his hand on her hip protectively. "What is it?"

She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head apologetically.

"Nothing," she said honestly.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm – the tears are still in my eyes, Han, it's not crying if – "

He swept his thumb across her cheek right as one fell, and held up a solitary tear pointedly, and she breathed in, shaking her head defiantly – he wrapped his arm around her and sighed heavily, pulling her closer.

"C'mere, Your Worship," he muttered, resting his chin on her head. "What's wrong with you?" he asked again.

She ran her hand over his chest silently for a moment.

"This, ah – this issue with Ben, and his food," she started.

She felt Han tense immediately, and he loosened his grip a little. He pulled back and looked at her as if she'd just entrapped him, and she rose up on her elbow, trying to give him a soothing look.

"Han, I'm not angry," she said quickly.

She put her hand on his abdomen and held it there, silently conveying that she wanted to talk.

"Han," she said again, "do you give him food when he asks for it because it reminds you of the times you were starving?"

Han looked at her without a word, and then shifted his head, looking up at the ceiling instead. Leia ran her hand up to his chest, resting it over his heart.

"I understand where you're coming from," she started softly.

He cut her off immediately, eyes snapping back to hers.

"No, you don't," he said flatly. "You've never starved."

His tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but she let it wash over her anyway. She didn't want to fight again.

"I know," she agreed quietly. "I mean…that I thought you were feeding him to, well," she sighed, "because you don't like when he's mad at you, or because he's quiet when he's eating," she explained. "Or to make him like you," she admitted.

Han gave her a nettled look.

"You thought I was bribing him?" he demanded, and then gave her a more nettled look – "Hang on – you think he doesn't like me?" The last part was a little playful, but he still seemed a bit put out.

Leia shook her head, and laughed a little –

"Han, for heaven's sake, you're always ties up in knots about him," she remarked honestly, running her palm over his chest soothingly. "When Ben comes to work with me, all he does is ask where Daddy is."

"Yeah, 'cause politics are boring," Han muttered.

He looked down at her hand, and then placed his over it, stilling her movements. He sighed. They were both silent for a moment, and then Leia cleared her throat, tilting her head. She drummed her fingers lightly on his chest.

"Ben doesn't go hungry," she said calmly.

Han closed his eyes tightly and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"I know," he said finally, a little rough – he seemed…sheepish, embarrassed. He looked at her, brow raised. "That's the word he uses, though, you know that? Don't know where he learned it. He says 'Daddy, I'm starving.'"

Leia frowned lightly – she wasn't sure where he would have heard that either, unless he picked it up from a youngling on a playground.

"Much like myself," Leia pointed out, "Ben does not know what it's like to starve," she said.

Han's brow knit tightly, and he reached up to rub it harshly. He nodded.

"It just – messes with me, Leia," he said finally, an edge to his voice. "You know, he's little, and he thinks five minutes feels like ten years, and if – if he says he's hungry, he's hungry," Han said shortly, "he should get to eat."

Leia laid her head down and draped her arm over Han's chest, sharing his pillow quietly, and thinking about his words – she could hear how silly her rules about food must sound to him, when he'd never known where his next meal was coming from, and his whole life had once been about making damn sure he ate whenever he had the chance, just in case.

She kissed Han's arm, and shifted her head.

"You're right; he should eat when he's hungry," she agreed, "and I try not to force him to eat when he's not – but the problem is, now he knows you'll give him whatever he wants," she pointed out.

Han made a noncommittal noise, and Leia shifted her head again.

"His perception of five minutes kind of goes for his attention span, too," she murmured. "He may be hungry, or he may be bored, or he may just want a snack because he's a toddler and snacks are fun. If you said no and distracted him, he'd forget – and he'd eat dinner, and he wouldn't wake us up demanding crackers at two in the morning."

Han shrugged.

"I can't sense him like you do," he said a little irritably. "How'm I supposed to know if he's actually hungry or just bored?"

She sighed, and propped her head up, giving him an exasperated look.

"Well, first of all, offer him celery, and if he turns it down, he's not hungry," she said pointedly, giving Han a look. "Second of all – Nerf Junior lives with extremely well-paid parents in a penthouse with a fully stocked pantry," she said dryly, "hungry is not the same as starving, and even if he's truly hungry, he's not having hunger pangs, and he can wait."

Han turned his head towards her, and grimaced.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed.

He shrugged, and turned onto his side, falling silent – Han was never particularly good with discussing his childhood or getting to the root of why he did some of the things he did, and she sensed he was uncomfortable – becoming a father had inadvertently sapped some of his innate confidence; his lack of raising gave him nothing to draw on and he was mostly concerned he wasn't doing it right.

It might have all been easier if they'd had time to talk about this beforehand, to plan; but they'd barely been on their feet as a couple before he'd come along.

"I love you," she reminded him, matter-off-fact, snuggling closer. "Even if you apparently thought I was starving the baby."

Han finally grinned a little, shaking his head.

"Nah, that's not what I was thinking," he corrected, amused – though he could see how it might have looked that way. He shrugged. "I just was lookin' at it differently."

Leia nodded, biting the inside of her lip – that was always the case these days, when it came to Ben, and their stumbling education in parenthood. They were looking at it differently, coming at it from two different backgrounds, drawing on wildly different experiences.

"Nerf Junior," Han growled, a slightly mocking edge to his voice as he repeated the cutesy nickname Leia had thrown out earlier, "is really gonna get it if I try your celery trick and find out he's been playing me."

Leia giggled quietly. She pulled back and rested her hands under her head. She smiled at him – she'd given him such a hard time lately, and understanding now that he'd just been reacting to some of his own deeply imbedded childhood trauma –

She compressed her lips and Han lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Kriff, Sweetheart," he muttered, reaching out to brush tears away again – and she mustered a glare, snapping her teeth at his fingers pointedly – she knew Han would never make fun of her if she were really distressed, really crying – but this kind of vaguely teary habit that had cropped up after Ben always amused him little –

The kind where she'd look at him with misty, wide brown eyes and tell him Ben sang her a song and it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen, and he'd be kind of dumbstruck that Leia was teary over something like that, considering how rarely she used to cry at all.

"I couldn't cry very much. Something was broken," she'd said once. "I think he put it back into place."

She pressed her lips to Han's in reconciliation.

"I don't know how you're judging yourself against, as a father," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "I hope it's not your own," she said sincerely. "You show up, Han, and that's so much of what matters – and everything else you do is good, too."

He shook his head, grimacing.

"Not my father," he said, a bitter note to his tone for a moment. He nodded. "Yours."

Leia paused, brow furrowed. She looked a little pale, and he shook his head again, quickly.

"Not Vader, Leia," he said, unsure why she'd even thought that – and she looked ashamed of herself, nodding.

"I – know, but it's just – you never met my father," she murmured – she'd only been uncertain for a moment because of that key fact –

"No, but you talk about him," Han said gruffly. "You – ah. Seems like your dad was the right kind," he managed awkwardly. "So, I gotta be at least…half that, to Ben."

Leia looked at him helplessly for a moment.

"Han, I'm not sure how the hell you expect me to not cry when you say something like that," she said – and both of them laughed, and she touched his jaw, blinking away tears. "Ben thinks the world of you," she murmured.

Han smiled a little. Ben was just a toddler, though – he also thought the world of Luke's Jedi cloak and Carlist Rieekan's shiny keychain.

Leia, sensing his doubt, touched his face again.

"I think the world of you," she assured him, and he smiled a little more, leaning in to kiss her.

He needed to hear it – and she realized, when he pulled her closer with a sense of relief in his kiss, that more than anything, every argument they had about raising Ben made him feel like he was the one failing, and she didn't mean to make him feel like that at all – it was just different perspectives.

Han was – she couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else.

They were interrupted – predictably – by a muffled little yell from Ben down the hall – awake, alert, and –

"Mama? Daddy! Starrrr-ving!"

Han looked at Leia, eyes narrowed, and she sat up, smiling wryly. She nodded her head at the door.

"Go, feed your son," she said dramatically. Han arched a brow, and Leia softened her voice, feeling a little chastised. "I mean it – bed without dinner is cruel," she reflected, regretting that choice.

Han leaned forward and gave her another kiss, and got up to answer Ben's melodramatic shouts – he held up a hand, giving her a serious look.

"Tomorrow we're on the same page," he promised.

Leia draped her arms over her knees and smiled, watching him wrench open the door and turn the corner. She lay back and listened to the muffled sounds of him talking to Ben, then the sounds of them in the kitchen, and she rolled onto her side, closing her eyes lightly – she was sure this sort of misunderstanding and disagreement would happen again, but it was okay; she'd just remember that at the core of it all, they loved Ben, and they loved each other, and they were going to be okay.