AN: I'm sorry this took so long. Not going to lie, it's kind of a filler. But some of the next parts are going to be approximately twice as long as this, and one of them is already finished. So ... I guess that means I've already made up for it ;)

As she awoke to the aromas of a hefty breakfast and the sounds of Han stumbling around the kitchen, Leia wondered if it was the simple moments like this one that the domestic life was all about.

Though she was well accustomed to having no sleep schedule or even getting a reasonable amount of sleep, her body was more than happy to sleep in until she was woken up by her alarm or Han without question. Leia was immensely grateful for that side-effect of her sleep-deprivation, though she supposed she also had the baby to thank for that. So help her, stars above, but she had happily surrendered to Han's demand, and Leia refused to get up before eight unless it was absolutely necessary. More often than not, Han would join her in this small rebellion of its own and remain in bed, though he did sometimes grow restless and could only stay so long. When he did get up before her, he seemed to take pride in surprising her with this or that task already completed. Or, on occasion, with breakfast in bed. She took it was just that Han had in mind for this morning, and she smiled to herself, content, and relaxed back into the bedsheets.

Leia was in awe of the tranquility of the morning, the simple peace and quiet that surrounded her, lack of any alarm or unease. She savored the sheer contentment she felt if only in fear that it would be all too soon when she lost it. She and Han had planned for today to be a simple day, relaxing if such a thing were possible. Stress-free and reassuring was the goal despite the many small errands they planned to make throughout their free day. But it was still reserved just for them, a reprieve from their surroundings and time for them to spend together by themselves, enjoy their time together before it was no longer just the two of them in their home. With an inward grimace, Leia remembered that she was now twenty weeks along, and precious time was running out.

Before she sat on that terrifying thought too long, the bedroom door slowly creaked open until Han came into view carrying a tray of eggs, sausages, and fruit. He leaned forward to peer at her around the indented doorway. "You awake already?"

Leia nodded, shifting to lean on an elbow. "I heard you clunking around the kitchen."

"But you stayed in here?"

She smiled guiltily. "I'm not ready to get out of bed quite yet."

While amused, Han appeared doubtful. "You were waiting for me to bring breakfast to you."

Leia struggled to hold back her guilty smile, and her own amusement spilled through her expression. "Were you not going to bring it to me anyway?"

"You don't know. I could have been waiting for you until I decided to leave without you."

"Mmm," Leia scrunched up her face in a mocking look, stretching as she sat up. "That's not how dates go."

Deciding that Leia had won— this time— Han simply shook his head and laid Leia's plate before her.

"But I love you for bringing me breakfast in bed," she offered. "You're too sweet."

"Hey, don't go spreading that filthy rumor around."

Leia tossed him her slickest smirk, her chin turning up in pride. With the scent of breakfast wafting just beneath her nose, however, her victory celebration was short-lived as her attention was pulled by more important matters. Han must have seen the hunger in her eyes because he quickly offered her a plate from his tray, and Leia wasted no time in digging in.

As soon as Leia had finished breakfast, she changed into a yellow sundress with lace sleeves that hung off her shoulders. Nakia had lent her a head scarf that was common of Reecee women to wear in the sun. Paired with dark sunglasses, Leia decided the outfit was enough to ward off onlookers. Han wore what he normally wore, convinced that Reecee saw enough smuggler activity to not bat an eye— his beloved Corellian blood-stripe trousers with a light and airy white shirt, buttoned uniform-style to the top. One glance, and Leia undid the top three fasteners, smirking mischievously. They stepped out of their home hand in hand and strolled leisurely for town.

Han was thankful for the time and space to just— walk. And with Leia at his side, there was a tranquility to the air he had never felt before. All his worries seemed to float away on the wings of the wind, passing him by and leaving him behind. There was no longer a great and heavy rancor in the room, but a mutual understanding that there were conversations to be had. They would come. And Han and Leia both would be ready to face them. He wondered if he should begin to broach one now, so many questions and doubts nibbling at his confidence in the future. There was so much to decide. His gaze followed Leia's profile, the new rounded corners to her face, the blooming swell of her belly where she kept a hand gently pressed. So little time.

"How's little cub treating you today?" Chewbacca had been the first to call the baby such, and not with the intention of creating a nickname, but— well, that's what all wookiees called their young or unborn offspring, and he hadn't understood at first what Han found so funny about calling the baby his "cub". But Leia had found the mistaken translation to be endearing, and now the baby was Cub.

Leia ran her hand down her belly, smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress, and drew on a cheerful smile. "Not too bad. My back is better this morning. Although, I think they're going to be active today. Cub hasn't settled down since I woke up."

Han chuckled. "Sounds like my kid."

"Speaking of our kid …"

"Yeah, I figured we'd probably end up talking about some stuff today."

Leia's lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she turned her gaze down to her bump. "It's already not just us."

For a moment, Han wondered if there was a hint of resentment there or not; if there was, he wasn't judging her for it. This certainly wasn't how he'd imagined spending his first months with Leia when he finally broke her down. Yet, Han couldn't find it in himself to regret it either. There was something incredibly beautiful about such a physical manifestation of what he felt for Leia and she in turn for him.

"I guess it's not," he finally agreed. "But I don't think that's completely a bad thing."

Leia shook her head, a slight frown curving her lips. "I don't either. It just reminds me how little time we have to prepare."

"Yeah, well." He didn't know what to say, where to start. But Leia took over for him as she drew herself up against him, her form conforming to his. "We need to start thinking about names. Set up the nursery, buy everything we'll need like clothes, pacifiers, a crib, blankets—"

"Actually, I was thinking I could build the crib myself. It'd save us a couple credits. I'll see if Dundu will help me gather some wood for it. And a changing table, and a dresser too."

"Han, we don't even have a dresser. Does the baby really need one—?"

"Right after I make the crib and changing table, I'll make us a dresser too."

She smiled, her cheeks flushing.

"So, I'll make the furniture for the baby's room and we'll be that much closer to being prepared."

Leia blushed fiercely, but she pushed on, taking Han's hand between her own. "For now, how about we just focus on the smaller things. We can look for clothes and blankets."

"I should have enough from my last paycheck for the important stuff."

For a long moment, Leia didn't respond. Han felt her settle against him, her hand tightening its grip on his arm. "I love you."

"I know," he smirked. "Why now?"

Leia rolled her eyes, but didn't break their contact. "I love you for staying with me. For staying for our baby. For going back to smuggling for us. I know you hate it. Han, I'm sorry for snapping at you when you first decided to start working again. I should have known you didn't want to go back, but that you were doing it for us."

"Sweetheart, I still don't believe half the stuff I'm willing to do for you." Her laughter erupted like a generous fountain, joyous and plenty in its flow. It drove Han wild. He did his best to cover it, nonchalantly stuffing his hands in his pockets and tossing his head. "Spoiled little princess," he muttered.

"The things we do for love," Leia supplied, and Han couldn't help but smile with her. But while hers was in amusement, his was in acknowledgement.

"I quit smuggling for you. Then, I go back to smuggling for you."

"I know," Leia sighed theatrically. "I'm high maintenance. It must take a lot out of you to put up with me."

Entirely deadpan, Han rolled his neck to look at her and growled, "You have no kriffing clue, Princess." Suddenly, however, his features softened with concern which automatically put Leia on edge. "Though, you have been pretty up and down lately."

"You mean 'hormonal'?"

"No! Like— okay, yeah, a little bit. Sometimes. But I mean, you keep doing this thing where you'll freeze like something else is catching your attention, and you'll stare off into space, and you look really confused."

"Oh, wow. Thanks."

"No, Leia! Come on— don't be like that. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Of course, Han; I'm just thinking."

"No," he shook his head. Han squeezed his eyelids closed until they wrinkled like he himself was practicing great strain to find the words he was looking for. "No, you aren't just thinking. I don't mean it in a rude way, but it just seems like you're— uncomfortable? I dunno'! Like you know something isn't quite right. It happened just last week— when we got home from that party in the village."

And Leia knew exactly what Han was talking about. But she didn't know what it was for herself. She could still recall with stunning clarity what it felt like— those odd moments of pure, sweet joy, contentment, love, and innocence, but she didn't know what they meant, why she was feeling them, or if they were all just fragments from her overactive imagination.

"Oh," she shook her head, remaining casual even though she couldn't shake the moments off when they came. "That."

"Yeah, that. Mind telling me what's bothering you?"

Leia shook her head. "Nothing is bothering me. It's just— weird. Don't worry about it, Han."

"No?"

"No, it's strange. If I told you what I think, you would tell me I'm crazy."

"Sweetheart, you're bumming around with me; I already know you're crazy."

Leia just rolled her eyes. "Fine. You want to know what it is? Sometimes, I get these impressions of moods that I don't really feel. Like, when it happened last week while we were talking, I was worried and stressed, but I felt— joy. But I knew I didn't actually feel that way." She shook her head, shrugging. "See? It doesn't even make sense. It's probably just hormones. It's nothing, really. It's silly."

"No, no, I'm just trying to understand."

Leia sighed. "Okay, hold out one of your hands." Han obeyed, and Leia put one of her own beside his. Then, she laid her other hand over his. "I can feel a hand beneath mine. But when I touch it, I know that it's your hand— not mine." Briefly, she met his eyes just to see if he was smirking, but Han's attention was focused on her so heavily that Leia could only feel comforted by it. "That's what it feels like," she told him. "I know it's not mine, but I still feel it. I can still touch it."

A long silence filled the space between them as Leia awaited his response, waited for him to chuckle and tease her for 'feeling things'— but he didn't. Instead, Han slowly looked up to meet her expectant gaze, a small, wrinkled crease halfway between his brows. "You mean, like the Force?"

Leia blinked. "What?"

"You know, like how Luke always knows when you're upset or happy 'cause of his Force powers or whatever."

She managed to nod— once. "But that's the Force."

"Yeah, but you're saying it's like that?"

She blinked again. "Sure."

Apparently arriving to the conclusion that Leia was in fact crazy, Han shook his head and stretched an arm around her. "You just need to relax. You're getting too worked up over all the baby stuff."

Fully willingly, Leia relaxed into his embrace, settled her head on his shoulder as she walked alongside him. "Baby stuff," she laughed shortly under her breath. "It's important stuff."

"'Course. Just— maybe, don't take it too seriously."

"Han—"

"I mean it, sweetheart. S'not gonna' make things better."

"Yeah, I know, I just …"

There were a million possible endings to that statement, but Leia let the silence fall, left Han to wonder which one she was thinking. Maybe, she thought, he would settle on a better answer than she had. She looked ahead down the street, tried to move on from the moment, but Han was just as stubborn as she; in short, she should have known he wouldn't let it go. "You know I'm thinking about all this stuff too. It's not just you, and I'm gonna' make sure of that."

Leia wasn't in the mood to talk so seriously about all these changes even though it was all she could think about. Instead, she opted for a sly change in topic as she caught a glimmer in her eye. "Han Solo," she drawled, "being responsible, huh?"

This time, he seemed willing to go along with it. "Yeah. Another one of your annoying attributes you've rubbed off on me."

"What a shame. Already, I can hardly recognize you!"

"And it's all your fault," he muttered. "Why don't we talk about something less stressful but just as important."

"Like what?"

"Like names."

"Names," she echoed. With the way Leia seemed to marvel at the thought, Han wondered if she'd completely forgotten about naming their kid. At least, he wouldn't be surprised. He kind of had.

"Yeah, names. What, did you think we were actually going to call our kid 'Cub'?"

"Shut up! I just— keep forgetting we still have that to consider."

"I guess Cub doesn't sound too bad …"

"It doesn't, does it? Cub Organa Solo." Leia could feel Han's smirk through the squeeze he gave her hand at that moment.

"You wanna' give our kid my name?"

"We were equal partners in this, were we not? It's only fair you get half the blame."

"Very touching, sweetheart."

Han could make Leia forget just about anything. In the past, the beginning days of their knowing each other, he'd helped her forget her grief and the pain threatening to take her down with the rest of Alderaan. He had his tricks to distract her, annoying her, teasing her until her misery was nearly nonexistent. He'd given her companionship, security, a shoulder to lean on. Even now, he could make her forget that their lives were about to change dramatically. He could distract her from the fears swarming her awareness. He could make her feel like they had nothing but time for just the two of them. She didn't know how he did it; she just knew she loved him for it.

Leia was terrified— so terrified. She wished she had her mother with her to talk to, to help prepare her. She wished there was still peaceful Alderaan to provide stability, a promising home with a promising paycheck. But those dear things were lost to her, and she would never get them back. But she had Han, and that was, perhaps, even greater.

He couldn't take away her fear, free her of every worry, but she knew he was here to stick around. Because they were playing the long game now. Expectations, commitment, and all. Certainly not the jump to hyperspace Leia had been expecting when they'd first left Hoth.

At one point in their walk through the street vendors, Han caught her eye, a playful smirk shining there. His pace picked up and he tugged on her hand as he headed for the corner of the street.

"Fierfek, Han! I can't walk any faster; my feet are killing me already."

"We're almost there!"

"Almost where? I'm getting hungry and—"

"There's a café just down the street. Lots of sweets, pastries."

"You sound like a man with a plan."

"Maybe 'cause I do." He grinned at her— that same lopsided grin that had been driving her insane since she met him, and the effect had yet to show signs of wavering. What that cocky little smile of his did to her … he already knew, but Leia wasn't going to let him have the pleasure of her surrender. "This is supposed to be a date, remember?"

"Our first and last," Leia quipped.

"Then, we better make the most of it."

Once again, Han took her hand, then lead her down the street to the outside café. A server greeted them with menus, and they found a table in the shade where Han pulled out a chair for Leia. They ordered, shared between their two platters, conversed and laughed like they had all the time in the world. They talked about everything but the baby— they still had plenty of time, Han insisted when Leia tried to bring up possible names. They told old jokes, reflected on their relationship since the Death Star, laughed themselves to tears at how far they'd come. They wondered what Luke would think of them, what he would have to say if he could see them now, all happy and doe-eyed with a baby in the middle of their beautiful new mess. He was like a brother to her, Leia swore when they remembered the awkwardness that had seeped between the three friends before they'd all fled Hoth. She was sure he would understand, come to agree that something about the thought of the two of them together was— well, almost laughable. That wasn't their relationship. But she and Han. For all their struggles and the absurd fights Luke had witnessed for three years, he had to understand, too, that something about the pair was just right. Or, so, Leia prayed. Because everything about her and Han felt right. She missed Luke, missed having such a dear friend she could talk to and laugh with in a different way than she and Han did. She missed the companionship she'd found in him. Now that she'd opened up to Han, could talk to him about anything she was wrestling with, she wondered what her and Luke's friendship would look like if they weren't apart, because something told her she could still use him. Something about his friendship was essential to her wholeness.

But she was choosing Han. Not choosing Han versus Luke, but she was choosing Han and their child over returning to the Rebellion any time soon. She was choosing building a family and a new life for herself apart from her career and what little had been with the Rebellion for her. Luke— she would miss him terribly, already the thought caused her some pain; but this— what she was living for now— it made the Rebellion wink out like a dying star into the back of her mind …