"We need to get up."

Leia said it with all the obligatory industriousness that she had been raised to wield like a blaster, but her heart wasn't in it. Comfort settled around her, blanketing her husband and her in a lackadaisical shroud. The lights in their living area were doused to a low glow, the conform couch beneath them dipped as Han shifted behind her. The heavy rain hitting the transparisteel windows felt like a ballad.

"Nope," Han said from behind her.

She ran a hand over his forearm, wrapped around her stomach. "We have people waiting for us."

So many people were waiting for them. Friends and family, the political hangers-on, vague acquaintances: the last guest list Leia had seen had had almost four hundred names on it.

And that had been after she nixed another three hundred names that the event planner had initially proposed.

"Do…. we care?" Han asked against her ear. His breath whispered through her hair.

That was an excellent question. It had been a difficult week: Han had been gone for most of it on an exploratory mission with Luke and Chewie. Leia was used to periodic separations from him—though he was technically retired from the military, Han Solo was to this day still one of the most capable people in service to the New Republic—but the timing had been less than ideal.

Their tenth anniversary didn't loom large for Leia, but as the date had neared she'd realized how much she wanted to celebrate the day with him. Not because of this party, not because of the half-disguised political statement the upper echelon of the New Republic wanted it to be. She just missed him. After ten years of marriage, she still liked him, liked spending time with him.

Also, as Han had pointed out, it was tempting to thumb their noses at the many people who had told them they wouldn't last.

But still…. They needed to get up.

"We have to be there in an hour," she said, turning her head to look at him. "We aren't going to make it if we don't get up."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine by me. I hate these people."

"It's a party in our honor."

"This is the party I want," he said, obstinate. "Fuck 'em."

Leia laughed, rolling onto her back and smoothing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "If we go, you can tell them that to their faces."

He grinned but shook his head. "It's the weekend. Nobody gets to make me do anything I don't want to do on the weekend."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly do you want to do, hotshot? Take the Falcon and disappear?"

Grin still firmly in place, Han leaned down and kissed her, lips soft and familiar. Years together and he still made her heart race, roguish insouciance to authority thrilling. She smiled into his kiss, ran her hand through his hair and to the side of his face.

When he pulled away, his smirk was still brilliant. "Excellent idea, Your Worship. Let's go."