"Are you upset over what Draven said?" Leia asks the Falcon's captain as he enters their bedroom. She knows him well enough to know that he is upset about it, but won't bring it up unless she asks him flat-out.
"What?" He deflects. She purses her lips and arches an eyebrow. Deflecting isn't going to work.
"It bothers me that he's right." Han admits after a moment. "You do deserve better than an ex-smuggler, and his small, run-down ship."
"What? Oh, come on!" She stands up, in all of her aggravated five-foot glory.
"Draven is so full of bantha crap! He just said that because he doesn't like me. Or you."
"Doesn't matter who said it..." He grumbles, sitting down on the bed.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like it?" She asks. He doesn't respond, because no it didn't.
"That maybe I like sharing a bed, because I don't have to wake up cold and alone? That maybe I'm fine with having to share counter space in the bathroom, and dodge you in the kitchen because it means I'm not on my own anymore?"
"But..."
"Maybe I like having someone to come home to."
He sighs in defeat, knowing he's lost this argument. He joins him on the bed, nestling into the crook of his neck.
"You could've been killed." He whispers. Suddenly, she knows that this isn't just about Draven's stupid rant. Especially because today, surprisingly, there was no life-threatening event.
"What?"
"You shouldn't have come for me. At Jabba's. You shouldn't have..." He hates that she was drugged, stripped, and chained all for the pleasure of that vile slug. He hates that it all happened because she was trying to save him, even though he knows he's not worth it.
"I did that because I love you." She reminds him.
"I know." He says, smiling for the first time since he'd walked in. "I love you too."
"I know."
They spend the entire night in each other's comforting embrace, a pastime that Han didn't see the point in, until he'd met Leia.