This is for your father, your planet and the Galaxy, Leia reminded herself as she made her way through the hanger. The ships were mostly quiet for the night, dark and hulking, almost stately, like standing sentinels guarding the base in its sleep. She twisted her hands together as she thought about what she was going to ask, her face flaming a little as she remembered their last heated argument.

"If you're gonna order me around like a slave, you might as well chain me up, Princess. Would make it hell of a lot more fun!"

Han and she had been sniping at each other for days on a fraught mission to Eadu. Leia didn't know why they kept fighting like this. She would always go in with the best of intentions. Sometimes with affection, and trust, and…even a little anticipation. Moments with the Captain were certainly never boring (and he isn't too terrible to look at either.)

At first they'd get along fine. Sometimes they'd laugh and tease each other and banter in that way that made her skin prickle with pleasure. Leia had always been smarter than most of the people around her - even the diplomats, senators, and advisors that surrounded her parent's court. The last thing she had expected would be to find such a worthy sparring partner in an inveterate smuggler who had so obviously been brought up light years from polite society.

But he was smart. Smart as a whip. Maybe he didn't have the book learning that Leia did, but he was observant, innovative, and had the kind of knowledge only the streets or the space lanes could give. So why did their amusing mental exercises so quickly turn into heated snark?

"It would certainly be safer!" Leia growled back. "If you don't stop showing off, you're going to get us all killed."

"Showing off? Is that what you call loosing the squadron of tie fighters that responded to your bantha-brained comm?"

Leia seethed as she scrambled for a response.

"Well, if you hadn't insisted on taking that kriffing short cut - risking all our lives AGAIN in the process - we wouldn't have been early enough to garner their attention."

Han gave her an odd look, the scowl on his face warring with the slight quirk of his lips.

"Did you say kriffin'?"

And Leia could have smacked him, the slight flip in the pit of her stomach be damned.

"This isn't a joke, Captain. I can't continue to fly with you, if you willfully flout my authority time and time again."

The smirk disappeared in an instant.

"Your authority? Your authority?! I am not taking orders from a pig-tailed, snot-nosed girl who's barely reached her majority. I don't care if you're a Princess or a Senator or a kriffing Jedi. Han Solo," he hit his chest like some jungle primate, "don't take orders from no one."

"That's," Leia had fought through a heady mix of hurt and fury, "a double negative."

Leia grimaced at her pathetic comeback as she picked her way, more slowly than she should to his ship. They hadn't spoken in more than a week. The one time they had crossed paths in the mess hall, neither had been willing to cede Luke so they had both sat silently on the either side of him, only responding to direct address from the flummoxed young Jedi-in-training.

She wasn't going to admit she missed him. Not in a million years. But, she couldn't help the relief that melted into her as she got closer to his ship.

What was it about that man? How could she hate him one moment and then…

"GLUUUUggggghhhhh," Chewie's greeting rolled through the near darkness.

Leia couldn't help her smile. "Hi Chewie," she said as she came up next to him.

He patted her on the head, a move that would have made her bristle if it came from any other sentient creature.

[Where…been?] he asked.

Leia, a whiz in most languages she heard, had made an consistent effort to trade vocabulary and sentence structure (well, as much as Shyriiwook had) with the Wookie for the last couple years. She was only just beginning to get the gist of his growls and yips.

Her girl's eyes scanned the Falcon as her politician's mouth did its job, "I've been preparing for a diplomatic visit from a few different planetary officials."

Chewie gurgled good-naturedly. Leia picked up something about "Pup" and "dumb" and "sorry".

Leia looked up at the Wookie, suddenly hungry for more information.

"Is he there?"

Chewie nodded, waving towards the cockpit, [Go…talk…sad.]

Leia felt a well of frustration at her piecemeal translations. She really needed to spend more time with the Wookie. Of course, that meant spending more time around his friend.

"I'm sure he's fine," Leia mumbled, thinking of the way he never seemed perturbed by their arguments. He'd saunter into the mess, laugh with the other pilots, flirt with every woman in the place. All the while she was still steaming, still coming up with retorts that would have been just right. Chewie shook his head, and said something too complex for Leia's comprehension. She shook her head apologetically, reaching up to finger the bun she wore. No braids this time. Pigtails.

Chewie slowed down this time, [He. Likes. You.]

Leia blinked. She knew that. Of course she did. But as Chewie ushered her up the ramp, she wondered just what kind of liking he meant.

She walked to the cockpit, with purpose though without speed. She suddenly felt so tired. Didn't she have enough on her plate without these skirmishes? Couldn't he just smile at her and banter with her and put his arm around her the way he did on that mission to Rishi?

The door was open and there he was facing a side panel, absently tinkering with a mess of wires Leia hadn't seen before. She thought he looked absent at least. He didn't have his goggles on - the ones that made her mentally chuckle every time she saw them - and his tools were strewn about rather than in his hands.

"Han," she murmured.

He glanced up and before he could stop it, that smile spread on his face. She secretly called it the Leia smile. He only gave it to her right before he said:

"Leia"

And there was her own Leia smile, stealing onto her face like a thief, responding to the silken sound of her name on his lips.

Why had she worried so much about coming here? They grinned at each other like loons for a moment, before the weight of the last week settled back into the space.

He released the wad of wires and leaned back in his chair. With a lazy hand he gestured to the co-pilot's chair.

"Take a seat, Princess."

The Leia smile vanished - off both their faces - as she gingerly picked her way across the graveyard of fallen tools.

"What brings you to my ship? Or, I'm sorry, to my decommissioned manure tank?"

Leia grimaced. She really had said that, hadn't she?

"At least you got the stink out."

The side Han's mouth quirked, and his eyes sparked a bit, even as he crossed his arms in a non-nonsense manner.

"What do you want, Princess?"

Leia sighed. She smoothed down her pants and looked briefly out the cockpit window. It wasn't much of a view, though she could just make out the door that lead circuitously to her side of the base. She frowned as she thought of Han catching her coming into the hangar. Was that why he was so often ready with a teasing remark or a needling question to stop her in her tracks?

"Well, good conversation," he muttered, "If you don't mind—"

"I need you to teach me Smash Ball."

The silence that followed had the feel of a bad joke.

"Excuse me?" He managed to sound incredulous, amused, and annoyed in the same flick.

"Smash Ball," she said, somehow retaining an air of dignified authority, "The Rogues are hosting a game against our visiting diplomats, and, well, I agreed to play for the visiting team."

Han didn't even try to keep the smile off his face this time. But it wasn't her smile. This one was the shit-eating grin that both aggravated her and attracted her in equal measure.

"And what made you do that?"

Leia wanted to cite any number of logical, cool-headed reasons, but a deep twang in her gut told her that Han wouldn't buy any of it. "The Rogues didn't want me on their team."

Han quirked an eyebrow, and Leia quirked one right back. With a chuckle, he shook his head.

"Just when I think I got you figured out. How'd that happen?"

"I've been trying to be more…" the word felt foreign to Leia's mouth, "friendly. I want to increase camaraderie, support the troops. My father was always so good at that."

Han's expression softened infinitesimally as he listened.

"So, when the topic of the game came up and they were short a man, I offered to round out the team."

"And they said no?" Han sounded both amused and offended in a way that made her aware in a strange way of the vicinity of her heart.

"Not exactly. They sent Luke to," a blush stained her cheeks as she ground out, "let me down gently."

Han whistled. "Kid doesn't know who he's dealing with."

Leia couldn't help her slight smile and ping of pride. Han knew.

"So, I signed up for the other team. It will be good for relations, after all."

Han beamed at her and she wondered if there was another Leia coming on.

"That's right. Wouldn't want those politicians to feel unwelcome."

"So you'll help me?"

There was just a moment, a slight pause, that made Leia want to squirm. She wasn't sure why she'd felt she could ask him, after the fireworks of the week before and frostiness of the following days.

But Han stretched his hands in front of him, lacing them together and giving them a good crackle.

"Oh, I'm gonna do more than help you. I'm gonna make you the best damn ball player on this side of the Galaxy."

The warmth that flooded through her as he pulled her up with him was almost drug-like. His hands remained on hers, so big and warm and strong. She suddenly wondered how many sports those hands had played, not to mention that tall, athletic body.

"You got any equimpent?"

Leia nodded dumbly, finding her voice after a slight bit of digging, "We can use the rec room. It's closed for the night."

"Well come on then," he tugged her towards the exit without a backward glance at the mess he'd left in the cockpit. "And grab some caf. We're not leaving till you hit a home run."

Leia grinned down at their joined hands then looked up in confusion, "What's a home run?"