Apologies for the delay in updating! I got stuck with this chapter big time.

Leia entered her office, expecting stacks of information regarding upcoming supply runs to cover her desk. She was not disappointed. Just looking at all of the work made her feel tired.

She took a seat, surveyed the workload in front of her and sighed.

Hours later, it didn't seem like the stacks had gotten smaller but Leia had organised the details for many crucial supply runs. Her stomach growled, begging her to go on a supply run of her own.

It would have to wait. She was too engrossed in her work to leave now, deciding to organise one more run and then get something to eat.

The Alliance desperately needed their fresh food stores restocked. Soon, all they would have to eat would be dried, packaged foods and although it wasn't a dire emergency, Leia knew how disgruntled everyone became (herself included) when the Alliance relied on their backup food stores, which consisted of non-perishable packaged protein. There were supposed to be different flavours available, according to the colour-coded packets, but if there were variations in taste, Leia had yet to experience them.

For this run, a ship would be needed with a decent amount of cargo space. The pilot would have to be especially fast and discreet so as not to show up anyone's radar. Purchasing large quantities of food in bulk was bound to draw attention.

Leia had the sinking feeling that she knew exactly who was needed for this supply run.

Han Solo.

He wasn't cheap, but the man was undeniably good at smuggling.

Drumming her fingers on the desk, Leia thought about the best way to approach him about the job. At best, their relationship could be described as precarious. Following the award ceremony, Han had surprised her by not leaving as soon as she had placed the medal around his neck. True, she had discovered that there was more to him than money, if his coming back to help destroy the death star was any indication, but Leia often wondered just how much more there was.

The man confounded her. His determined haggling over the amount of money he got paid suggested a man whose primary interest was in lining his pockets, but Leia knew that Han could earn much more money working independently. Did he believe in the goals of the Alliance? It was tempting to think so, but the smuggler had vehemently denied it. Their most recent encounter had seen a friendly conversation quickly escalate into an argument after he made an offhand remark about the futility of the war. Leia had avoided him since. She hated how he could get her so worked up; to the point that she felt she had almost no control over herself.

The only explanation for the effect that he had on her was because of how aggravating he was. Leia was sure that she was not the first or the last person to think of him as such.

In fact, Chewie seemed to see it as his duty to remind Han daily of his less charming attributes. The wookiee was the pin that regularly deflated the balloon that was Han's enormous ego.

Leia liked Chewie. He also seemed to have more of an interest in 'The Cause,' as Han called it.

If only Chewie was the one that needed convincing.

She stretched her neck and groaned. It seemed likely that her afternoon would be spent 'discussing' compensation with the pilot. Leia was going to need all of the patience and energy she could get to deal with Han Solo, so she decided to have something to eat first.

"Hey, Leia," someone called out.

She recognised Luke's voice and searched for him in the mess, locating him in the corner.

"Hello," she said, putting her tray of food down across from Luke's, sat down and looked around with a smile. "Where are the Rogues? Shouldn't they be on their third helpings by now?"

"Normally that would be the case, but..." he trailed off and pointed to her plate.

Leia glanced down at the unappetising colourless squares that the Alliance was laughingly passing off as food.

"I don't know what you mean," Leia answered, innocently. Luke grinned, knowingly. She picked up her fork and looked at her food unenthusiastically.

"Have you seen Han today?" asked Luke.

"No, but I'm going by the Falcon later to talk about a job." Leia braved a mouthful of her meal.

"A supply run?"

Leia chuckled at how hopeful he sounded. "Maybe."

"Oh, good," Luke answered. "The Rogues were talking about leading a march through Mon Mothma's office, protesting the quality of food lately."

Leia shook her head, amused.

"Most of them were joking, but I think Jansen is just dumb and food-obsessed enough to try it. Even by himself."

"I can only imagine Mon's reaction to that," she said, drily.

"What could she do? Sentence him to no more cubes of food? That's as good as rewarding him."

Leia couldn't disagree as she was currently regretting taking a bite of her meal. The rubbery, smoky taste lingering in her mouth was not encouraging her to continue. Her stomach rumbled almost angrily and she sighed.

"I guess I should get this run sorted out quickly then," Leia said, starting to pack up her tray.

"But you just got here," commented Luke, surprised, "You barely ate anything."

Leia looked at him, pointedly.

"Well, I know it isn't exactly delicious, but you need to eat something to keep you going."

There were times when Leia thought of Luke as her best friend and then there were times when he sounded exactly like a chiding father or brother and she couldn't help being amused.

"I'll be fine, Lukie, but thanks anyway," she teased. A young female pilot had taken to calling him 'Lukie' after her younger brother, whom she hadn't seen since joining the Alliance. Luke being Luke had never asked her to stop but fervently hoped that no one else would overhear his new nickname. Naturally, the Rogues were the first to pick it up and the name was all over the base within a week.

"All right, all right," Luke muttered, his neck flushing, "There's no need for name calling."

Leia stood up, grinning. "I'll see you later then. I'm off to convince Han Solo to do something he probably won't want to do. And then I'll probably bang my head against a wall for a good long while."

"Well, good luck with that."