Echo Base – Before Ord Mantell
[Solo, have you read the article the Rogue's keep talking about? The Work Spouse one?] Chewie barked at Han while they worked together passing tools and cables back and forth with silent fluidity while they repaired the climate control module (again) in the main hold.
Han grunted in non-response. Who had time for all the idiotic topics the Rogues discussed while bored out of their skulls?
[The article says that sometimes colleagues form non-romantic bonds with co-workers that mimic elements of a bonded pair. And it got me to consider. Solo – am I your work-husband?]
Han was so surprised by Chewie's sincerely asked question; he sprang up quickly and hit his head on an exposed pipe. The Shyrriwook word he had chosen to use for spouse held more weight and formality, a relative of the word for life-bond (non-romantic) that included a derivative meaning life-friend. Basically, a friend for life that one would die for.
"Owww, damnit! If you're my work husband, that make me your work-wife, then?" He grunted as he rubbed his head.
Chewie glanced up as he cranked the hydrospanner around the bolt.
[Work husbands, maybe? That is an interesting question. Do you suppose it's the gender identity, sexual orientation, or the role one plays in the work relationship that matters more in determining if another being is a work husband or wife? And to what extent does sexism play in demarcating roles, deserved or not?]
"Demarcating?" Han woofed back in Shyrriwook, not understanding the term.
[Demarcating is like classifying or determining. As in stereotyping. For example, would I be demarcated as the wife because I am a wookie, an enslaved species, and have a life debt to you? Or because I do much of the cooking and am the co-pilot? But then that is problematic because it presumes the Captain would be male and the husband. See? This is a fascinating topic, Cub.]
Han nodded his understanding and passed him a wrench before he paused to mop his sweaty face.
"This really is the most boring place we've ever been, huh? Can't find anything else better to do than chit chat about gender dynamics in workplace marriages?" Han laughed at the turn their conversation had taken.
He loved that about Chewie, his deep-thinking best friend, could get so philosophical on any number of topics. He wistfully wished again that Leia could better understand the nuances of Chewie's words -the wit, the complexity of the thoughts and carefully chosen words, because they were so well matched for debates and deep thinking.
"Chewie, I feel like if I ever did have a wife, there would be a lot of naggin' and raggin.' You know who nags me more'n you? Her Worship. And she's at least pretty."
[I don't think we have this resolved yet Solo. You can't even handle yourself, which does force me to take care of you. If you agree, I think it will be most appropriate if I would be your work wife.]
"Thanks, Honey." Han elbowed Chewie jokingly. "Look, no offense pal, but I fly solo. I feel like I'm choking just saying that word - wife." Han made a face like he just drank something sour and tugged at his collar, which was half-opened down his chest. Chewie rolled his eyes at his man-child friend.
[But on the other hand, I am also your sworn protector, which is traditionally the role of the male and husband in many species. So maybe I should be your work-husband. There is much to consider on this topic.]
"If you ask me, you're overthinking this, buddy. I always just considered us partners."
[Partners – yes that is good too. Lumpy calls this type of platonic bond that we have a "ride or die" friendship. I think that suits us, we ride and I make sure you don't die.]. Chewie clapped Han on the back so hard he stumbled forward as Chewie snickered.
[Yeah yeah, laugh it up Fuzz-face!]
[With respect to the Princess, you view her as your work-wife?]
"Yes. I'm a man and she's a woman. That would make her the wife, right?" He gave a satisfied nod.
The problem with having these conversations with Chewie was Han inevitably did a deep dive on a stupid-ass topic and began to over think it. He scratched the back of his head.
"Damn. Maybe I'm her work-wife? I bring her kaffe, cook her meals, make sure she eats, nag her to get enough sleep. And I think she is attracted to men, but she's never really talked about it so I don't know if she wants a husband."
His chin snapped up and he pointed his index finger at Chewie.
"But maybe she is my work wife, too. No, she ain't too nurturing or…well she ain't a hugger, that's for sure. And she sure as hell doesn't cook. Wait, that's chauvinist. You know what I mean, she is a woman but doesn't play a traditional human wife role. She's a soldier too, sometimes a protector. But I protect her too, feel protective of her. Oh hell, maybe I'm her work husband too? It's complicated. Watchya reckon, Chewie?"
[Cub, it sounds like maybe you should ask to make her your real life-mate. You didn't get all torn up on the nuances of work-spouse relationship dynamics when we were discussing the two of us. Do you have feelings for her that are stronger than work-marriage?]
Han scoffed. "Leia ain't gonna get married to anything but the rebellion, Pal. She don't got time for romance."
[I did not ask about how she felt. I asked how you felt.]
"That's my point though. It doesn't matter how I feel, man. There's a reason she's my work wife and not the real deal, or I'm her's - work husbands? Whatever label we would use. It's the only way she'd have me."
He thought for a second, snapped his fingers and pointed at Chewie as a painful thought came to him.
"Scratch that, I bet she wouldn't even have me as a work-spouse. I'd be lucky to be her damn work-mistress."
Han looked sheepish for voicing that thought aloud and pointed at Chewie threateningly. "You tell anyone I said any of that fuzzball, and I'll turn you into an area rug for my cabin."
Chewie chuffed out a laugh at Han's turmoil. He loved this human captain fiercely, like a brother cub, but he was a bit of a knucklehead.
[The Rogues came to an agreement that one must ask the other being to be a work spouse. I would be honored to be your work partner. Now you must ask the Princess if she accepts this arrangement and which titles she would prefer, hers and yours. You can't just call her your work-wife without her permission.]
"Ask me what, Chewie?" Leia entered the hold on silent feet. How did she sneak up on him like that?
Han turned and smiled at her wolfishly. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously as he gently took her hand with his greasy one, which he did not bother to clean, and got down on one knee.
"Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and General of the Rebel Alliance to Restore the Republic, you wanna be my work-wife?"
"Oh Goddess, not you too? That kriffing work-wife article."
"What do you mean, 'me too?'" Who the hell else asked you?" Han quickly rose from his knee and leaned moodily against the wall, arms crossed defensively against his chest.
"Well, Luke, Wedge, Hobbie, and Janson. And a medic named Fran I haven't seen since the last time I required stitches. They all said there weren't enough beings on base that made good work-wife material."
"And what makes good work-wife material?"
"Well, that's what I asked. Apparently being one of only a few women was the most important criteria. Fran said she wanted a work-wife that liked to visit the med-bay, and I'm in there all the time from mission mis-haps – thanks to you." She jokingly pointed at Han.
He pointed at himself and shrugged innocently.
"Anyway, Luke said he always wanted his work-wife to be his best friend. Wedge liked the idea of marrying into royalty and asked if he could be called a work-consort. I can't even repeat what Janson responded with, but, and I think this goes without saying, he will be taking workplace harassment training tomorrow."
Han and Chewie both laughed.
"Let me re-phrase, Princess." Han batted his lashes and sauntered back up to her, taking her hand again and gently rubbing his thumb on her palm. Leia's face flushed at the surprisingly exciting contact.
"Can I be your work-wife?" He asked sincerely in that mumbly rumble of a baritone voice that did things to her that she preferred not to dwell on. Did things, if voiced, that would get her sent to workplace harassment training too.
"You nag me enough to be one." She shot back, stifling a smile. Chewie doubled over in fits of giggles (the wookie equivalent) at Leia's pointed shot of Han and the unexpected coincidental call-back to their earlier conversation.
She paused and thought it over for a moment. "I take that back, that was very sexist of me."
Han shrugged, unfazed.
"So, is that yes? I bring you kaffe at ungodly hours, let you put your work ahead of our relationship, and offer you lots of hugs and affection, usually rejected," Han ended with a petulant pout.
"By hugs and affection, do you mean generally unwanted work-place harassment?" She smiled at him wickedly when his mouth opened in surprise at the "generally unwanted" comment.
"What I'm hearing, Sweetheart, is that I have a chance."
Leia rolled her eyes, attempting unsuccessfully to stifle a smile.
"You're a funny guy sometimes, Solo. I'll give you that."
She pretended to consider further, fingers cradling her chin in feigned consideration.
"I'm considering it as you do have some desirable work-wife qualities. You understand this work-marriage doesn't come with traditional marriage benefits, correct?"
"Sweetheart, I am very painfully aware that our relationship doesn't have any of those benefits." Han painted a pained expression across his face and Leia snorted.
"Fine, you can be my work-wife, but only if I get to be the work-husband." She was expecting Han to protest with machismo bluster, but he didn't.
"Deal. Do you think I'll get a cease-and-desist notice from High Command as soon as word gets out?"
"I would expect one before dinner. Anyway, I'll see you two later, I just stopped by to drop off this supply list before you head out tonight. Clear skies." She tossed the flimsies on the game table.
Han reached out to grab her arm before she could leave. "Hey, you can't leave before you consummate this marriage with your new wife!" Han teased quietly in her ear, circling his fingers suggestively over her wrist.
"Work-wife," Leia corrected, looking down at his hand before extricating hers with a shiver.
"You know? I prefer a work-spouse who is less distracting. I want a work-divorce, Captain Organa," She quipped, turning to Chewbacca.
"Mighty Chewbacca of Kashyyyk, I would be honored if I could be your work-wife instead. Will you accept?" She asked, eyes twinkling in good humor.
[I would be honored, Princess, but I'm afraid I already promised to be Han's work partner and wookies are bonded for life.]
"You're cheating on me?" Leia scoffed.
"What? It's Chewie!" He shrugged. "He's my ride or die." He and Chewie exchanged looks and Chewie put his arm around Han's shoulder affectionately.
"I hope you two are very happy together." She patted Chewie again and glared at Han comically.
Leia squared her shoulders and sighed dramatically, "I'll just stay married to the rebellion, I suppose," She dead-panned.
Han's eyes widened at her comment, wondering just how much of his conversation with Chewie she had heard. Ah hell, he thought. Might as well go for broke.
"Princess, wait! Be my real wife, and then it's not cheating!" He called after her.
"In your dreams, Hotshot!" Leia laughed and walked out.
"They already are, Leia. I'm gonna keep drippin' on you until you change your mind, Sweetheart!" He shouted as she stepped off the ramp and walked back towards the Command Center.
He saw her shoulders hunched in silent laughter as she threw up a wave without looking back. As he watched her walk away, he sighed wistfully and thought, "Someday."
Han walked back into the main hold and clapped Chewie on the shoulder. "Guess it's just you and me, Pal."
[For now, Cub, but not forever.]