A/N: Thought I had: "I want to do, like, a bottle episode. But as a one-shot."

This really isn't what I had in mind, and it's technically not really like a bottle episode at all, but it's what my brain came up with when I probably should have been doing other stuff, so.

Lunchtime had just ended and the day had already taken a nosedive straight into extremely frustrating territory. Leia had far too many things to do before her mission the next day and not enough hours in the day to do them, the good caf machine was broken and the closest working one was clear on the other side of the base, not one but three of the tauntauns had been injured during an ill-advised race facilitated by the Rogues the night before, the speeders kept failing in the cold, and just that morning, she'd received word that some of the sonic showers were failing in the cold as well. To top it all off, there had been sweetmallow cake at lunch, but Leia had been held up in meetings until after they'd run out. Han usually saved her a piece if she wasn't around and brought it to her office, but he hadn't for whatever reason, and she was unreasonably miffed about it. When she had to walk all the way to the north hangar to finalize some mission details with the cake-forgetting smuggler, everyone in the vicinity was already on thin ice as far as she was concerned.

Half an hour later, she and Han seemed to be on the same page regarding everything other than whose responsibility it was to procure dessert for her — a topic she decided to bring up another time — and he offered to walk back to her office with her. Leia didn't necessarily want to talk, but Han's presence provided a momentary distraction from the to-do list that had probably somehow grown since she'd stepped away from her desk. Plus, appearing occupied would likely keep others from approaching her with a problem unless it was a big one, and Leia thought she might actually lose her mind if one more person brought her an issue.

As they left the Falcon, the toe of her boot caught on the edge of the ramp and she went sprawling on the frozen hangar floor, bruising her ribs and her ego in equal measure. Clearly alarmed, Han reached toward her to help her stand, but Leia jerked her arm away from his grasp. He scrunched his brows together in confusion. "You all right there, Princess?"

"Fine," Leia snapped, datapad still clutched to her chest. She stood, suppressing a wince as her arm brushed over the the already-tender spot on her ribs. "Is everything about this piece of junk a hazard, or just the things that directly affect me?"

Han held up both his hands in a defensive posture that Leia had become tired of seeing. "Whoa, she isn't a hazard—"

"I just tripped and fell on my face walking down a ramp, Han. How does that not scream hazard to you?"

Han scowled. "No one else is trippin' walkin' down the ramp, Worship. Maybe you're just clumsy."

Leia gaped at him. "Clums—Never in my life have I been so—" She didn't have the energy to finish the sentence. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the Command Center, silently cursing patchwork freighters and the smugglers that maintained them for about half the walk. By the time she'd arrived in her office and sat down, however, Leia felt bad.

Han really hadn't done anything. Neither had the Falcon. No ramp sat completely flush with the hangar floor; Leia knew that. And, while clumsiness wasn't something she was ever accused of, she was so worn down, overloaded, and exhausted, she'd stumbled over her own foot while walking in an empty hallway earlier in the day. Her fall hadn't had anything to do with Han.

Without time to make a second trip to the hangar, but unwilling to leave Han assuming she was stewing, she sent him a message via comm: Sorry for imploding. It's been a weird day. Not your fault.

Han responded nearly immediately: Would hate to see what exploding looks like if that's your imploding. A brief pause, then, You're not clumsy. Don't know why I said that.

Leia snorted softly. Because I was acting ridiculous and it only made sense to respond in kind?

Maybe that's it, Princess. Would this weird day be improved by a decent dinner aboard a tripping hazard?

She pursed her lips, a smile threatening to take over her face. She wasn't sure exactly when his mild flirtation habit had become something she wanted to encourage, but it was a more recent development. She wasn't even certain this could be counted as flirtation. But dinner with Han on the Falcon sounded like a much better end to her day than her original plan. Yes, I think so. I have kitchen duty, but after? 1915?

It's a date.

Leia set her comm aside, shoving any lingering thoughts about the wording of his final message into some deep recess of her mind to be considered at a later time. She needed to focus on the seemingly endless problems the base had been seeing for the past week, not on…anything else.

She didn't have to worry about having an extra moment to ruminate on Han's use of the word date. Between finalizing the mission details, trying to fix half the problems on base, and listening to the complaints of seemingly every officer on duty, it seemed as if she merely blinked and her chrono read 1720. Nearly time to head to the kitchen.

Leia stretched as she stood, working her stiff shoulder muscles until her range of motion began to approach normal. Her ribs still smarted, but she'd endured far worse on many occasions and she knew they'd probably improve by morning. Making a mental note to run back by her office to grab her datapad once she finished helping serve dinner to the masses, she stepped into the main corridor.

Luke stepped directly in her path, his presence and voice both startling her. "Hey! Leia! How are you?"

Leia raised an eyebrow at him. He sounded…strange. "Fine, Luke. Just headed to the kitchen for the dinner shift."

"Oh, yeah? That's good. That's good. Say, I have—There was some of that cake you missed out on left over. Wedge put some pieces aside in one of the empty rooms. Want to grab some?"

Luke sounded as if someone was holding him at blaster point, and Leia didn't have the energy to figure out what was going on. "My shift starts in—Did you say cake?"

He nodded stiffly. "Mmmhmm. Cake. In one of the—I'll show you. We can get some together. Won't take more than a second. It's on the way. To the mess, I mean."

She almost asked if he'd just grab a slice for her for later, but then considered that she should probably bring cake to Han and Chewie if they were feeding her dinner, and she didn't want to verbalize all of that, so she just nodded. Leia followed Luke to what she knew was the supposedly empty cabin set aside for traveling Command members that Rogues occasionally entered empty-handed and exited with poorly hidden flasks of jetjuice. The door had been left unlocked apparently, as Luke only had to palm it open without resorting to whatever technological finagling was usually required to get into the off-limits quarters.

She stepped inside the room and Han's wild eyes met hers. He barreled toward her and the door. "Don't let them—" The door whooshed shut before he could stop it.

Leia glanced between Han and the closed door with delayed confusion. What the— "What is going on?"

Han grimaced, pointing sharply toward the door. "They figured out how to reverse the lock controls so they only work from the outside."

"What?"

"This isn't funny, Luke!" Han yelled.

"We're not traveling with you two for this mission if you're fighting," someone — Leia would bet a month's pay it was Wes Janson — shouted through the durasteel door. "Better make up now. We'll be back for a status report in an hour."

A thousand frustrated thoughts flitted through Leia's mind, but the one that exited her mouth was, "Is there really no cake?"

Han snorted, staring at her as if she'd grown a second head, but Leia held up a finger, listening for either Wes or Luke to confirm. After far too long of a wait, Luke said, "The cake was a lie. I'm sorry. We heard you fighting earlier and we just can't do this again, Leia. Sorry."

Leia pinched the bridge of her nose, unsure of where to even begin. The single time-sensitive issue seemed the most pressing. "Luke, I have kitchen duty in five minutes. General Rieekan is going to notice if I just don't show up for a shift."

"It's…taken care of," Luke said carefully.

"Luke, we're not even—" Han began, but Leia again held up a finger to quiet him, her mind whirring away.

"Someone's covering my kitchen shift?"

Another pause. "Yeah."

Off the hook for kitchen duty and no one will bother me for an hour? Am I dreaming?

She looked at Han with raised brows. "Got anything you need done before we leave?" she asked quietly.

Han stared at her for a moment before understanding dawned on him. "Luke, I was supposed to help Chewie inspect the hyperdrive motivator and calibrate the sensor dish on the Falcon so we're good to leave first thing in the morning."

"We can take care of that too. You two just worry about getting along again so we're not all miserable when we're stuck on a ship together for a week."

"'fresher needs cleaned, too," Han added, a wicked grin crossing his face. Leia had to bite her lip to hold back a laugh.

After a long pause, Wes said, "It'll get taken care of, Solo. We'll be back in an hour. If you haven't made up by then, it'll be another hour after that."

"I suppose we're stuck, sweetheart," Han said resignedly.

Leia felt the need to sound hesitant and possibly still angry at Han, and she knew a still-angry version of herself wouldn't even acknowledge what he'd said. "Luke, do we really have to do this now?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Leia. We just can't—Not again. I can't be stuck on a ship with you two at each other's throats the whole time again. Sorry." He paused. "We're going now. Be back in an hour."

Leia waited a full minute, listening for movement or sound outside the room before walking away from the door and letting out a laugh. She sat on the single bunk in the room, back pressed against the wall. "Idiots," she muttered, shaking her head.

Han walked closer to her. "This doesn't piss you off?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, on a day like today, any hour where I'm guaranteed that no one is going to approach me with a problem is a good hour. Though, I was lured in here with the promise of cake, and this is the second cake disappointment I've experienced today, so I'm teetering on a knife's edge where baked goods are concerned."

"Oh, there's cake for you in the conservator on the Falcon," he said. "Grabbed a piece at lunch, but you seemed like you were in a rush earlier, and then I was busy. Just hadn't had a chance to bring it to you."

Leia laughed softly. "You're my favorite today." And every day, really, she added silently. She noted with some interest that her immediate response to stray thoughts about caring for Han was no longer denial.

The grin that crossed Han's face made her heart jump. "Your favorite? Didn't know you were allowed to have favorites."

She rolled her eyes. "Quiet. Anyway, anyone else who might otherwise bear the title is currently complicit in trapping a former prisoner of war with PTSD in a locked room against her will, so it's not like you have a lot of competition right now." She smiled at him and patted the spot next to her, indicating he should sit. When he settled in next to her on the bunk, back against the wall, Leia leaned against him, cheek pressed to his bicep.

Han looked down at her. "You okay? Didn't even think about the locked room bein' a reminder…" He trailed off, but tucked some stray hairs behind her ear before sliding his arm around her shoulders protectively.

"I'm fine, but they're all getting extra sessions of sensitivity training. If they'd pulled this a year ago, I'd be in the middle of a panic attack right now." Leia smiled up at him, hoping he'd keep his arm in place even though she'd said she was okay. He didn't seem inclined to move.

"You know one way to pay them back would be to make sure there's no jetjuice in here whenever they let us out."

Leia giggled. "Ah, yes, alcohol poisoning the day before a week-long mission. Solid idea, Solo."

"Didn't say we had to drink it, Organa, but that is an idea."

She snorted and shook her head. "If I wanted to get them back quickly, I would just comm Carlist right now."

"They let you keep your comm?" Han asked incredulously. "They made sure I didn't have mine."

"As previously stated, they're idiots. Anyway, if our entire team for the mission knows about this, that means Tycho Celchu knows, and the longer we're in here, the more he'll catastrophize about the potential consequences of essentially holding his only living monarch prisoner, which will get Luke's paranoia going and they'll spiral together. They'll punish themselves by the end of the night."

"What about Janson?"

Leia pursed her lips. "We have a whole week in space with him. We'll figure something out."

Han chuckled.

"They're borderline insulting, every last one of them," she added. "As if we've not immediately apologized to each other after fights for the past six months. And today wasn't even a fight; I was just a jerk."

"Sounded like you had a rough day is all."

Leia closed her eyes and exhaled sharply. "It's just been one thing after the other, no breaks. I feel like the success of this base falls on me and Carlist, and I don't know that I'm carrying my weight."

"You do more for this place than anyone else I know," Han said kindly. He squeezed her shoulders lightly. "Don't think I've ever met as hard a worker as you, sweetheart."

She smiled and felt heat travel up her cheeks, no doubt coloring them a brilliant pink. "Thank you," she said softly. "Means a lot that you notice."

"You're hard not to notice, Leia."

Leia lifted her head from Han's shoulder and looked him in the eye. He stared back at her, expression soft with affection. She looked down suddenly, needing a moment of relief from the intensity of his gaze. When she raised her eyes to peer at him through thick lashes again, he still stared.

He looked at her like she mattered, and not just that her name and face mattered to a cause or that she had the power to accomplish something he needed. He looked at her like she mattered, like he wanted her instead of needing her. He looked at her the way she felt about him.

But…he was leaving. He hadn't said it in awhile, but the sentiment had been a near-constant refrain for almost three years. He couldn't stay. And she needed someone who would be there.

Leia dropped her head to his shoulder again and draped her arm across the broad expanse of his chest in a sort of half-embrace. They'd danced around the topic more and more recently, and she was ready and willing if only he would stay.

Han cleared his throat, apparently preparing to say something, when some noise on the other side of the door distracted them both. It had not been an hour, but Luke's voice traveled through the durasteel regardless. "Leia?"

Leia quickly thought through her and Han's more infamous arguments, and decided at this point, she'd likely be lashing out at anyone who spoke to her. "What?" she called out tersely.

"The situation out here has…deteriorated," Luke said carefully. Leia swore she heard someone other than Luke breathing in soft, quick huffs. Hyperventilating. Whatever momentary mania had convinced Tycho taking Leia captive was a good idea had apparently already worn off. Celchu was cracking. Luke wouldn't be far behind, she was sure. "I'm hoping you two are close to an apology."

"Apology?" Han barked. "What do I have to apologize for? All I do is run around for this operation that I'm not even a part of and I get accused of allowing hazards—"

"I tripped right over the ramp!" Leia exclaimed, exasperation clear in her tone. Or, she hoped it was. She hoped it didn't sound too over-the-top. "I bruised my ribs!"

Han's face fell and he whispered, "Did you really?" Leia held a finger to her lips and glanced at the door. They could talk about her ribs later. Han nodded. "Ribs? Really? You didn't even have that far to fall given how close to the ground you are."

"Oh, clumsy and short, ha ha," Leia spat bitterly. "Your insults are so creative."

Luke let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, this seems right on schedule. We'll be back in forty-five minutes."

Leia bit her lip and buried her face in Han's jacket to keep from audibly cackling. Han's concerned voice broke through her near-outburst. "Your ribs?"

She smiled gently and looked at him from her spot with her cheek pressed to his chest. "Just bruised. They'll feel better in the morning."

He brushed his fingers up and down her arm and she tightened the arm she had draped over him. She didn't remember how they'd become so comfortable with each other; it had been a gradual progression. They'd always been physical individuals, always been huggers with each other and their other friends. But he'd only started letting his arm linger around her shoulders recently. She'd only just begun resting her cheek against his arm and chest at times when they were alone. It was more than just friendly hugs at this point; they both knew it.

"This is nice," she said softly.

"It is," Han agreed. He cleared his throat. "Been wantin' to talk about you an' me—"

"Han," Leia interrupted, feeling bad, but knowing she'd feel even worse if she let him continue. She knew she should lift her head, knew she should face him directly, but she was a coward when it came to issues of the heart, and Leia didn't think she could look him in the eye and say what she needed to say. "I can't be with someone who has a foot out the door at all times." She closed her eyes. "I care too deep for it to not destroy me. It's already going to when you leave. Destroy me, I mean. I don't want to make it worse."

He waited a beat, seemed to process what she'd said, then responded, "Was gonna tell you at dinner. I'm staying."

Leia sat up straight and looked at his face. No hint of teasing, no indication that he was being anything less than truthful. Her chin trembled slightly. "You're staying?" she whispered.

He nodded once and that was enough for her to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. Han pressed his lips to her forehead. They both considered each other for a moment. Leia tilted her head toward him in a movement so slight, she was surprised he picked up on it. Han seemed to be waiting for it, though, and touched her lips with his own briefly. When he pulled back, he searched her face and eyes, looking for any indication that she was offended. Leia swallowed and leaned in just enough to indicate that she was, in fact, perfectly fine with the turn of events.

His lips found hers again and Leia was surprised by how gentle the kisses were the second time. She'd half expected fevered, frantic lips on hers, hands roaming her body desperately. Instead, the kisses were measured, calm, sweet in their earnestness; he cupped her cheek in one hand and ran the fingers of the other up and down her arm.

She closed her eyes and shifted closer to him, hands drifting to rest on his shoulders. Han pulled back slightly again, their faces still close. "You all right?"

Leia murmured, "Obviously," against his lips before she returned the kiss. She felt him smile.

When they parted, Han pressed his lips to her forehead and let out a shaky breath. "Leia," he whispered huskily. He kissed near her ear. "Been waitin' so long."

Leia rested her forehead in the crook of his neck as Han wrapped his arms around her. "Me too," she said softly.

A knock on the door caused Leia to jump. She rolled her eyes and sat up. "Are you knocking to be let in?" she barked. "Because I was under the impression that our ability to do so has been disabled."

"No," Luke said, his voice high and tense. "I'm just…checking in. Ah, say, Leia, I heard a rumor one time that some ensigns got court-martialed for locking their superior in a supply closet. Did that really happen?"

"What?" She didn't know what he was talking about.

"I just—Tycho's worried. I'm not. But Tycho is. About what happens when—I think we may be in a bit over our heads right now."

"Is this insubordination, what we did?" Tycho asked

"Technically, I think this is unlawful detention of a superior officer," Leia answered blandly.

Luke and Tycho were silent for a moment, followed by a very quiet, "Oh no. Oh no, oh no."

"They're spiraling," she murmured, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"Luke, Celchu, don't worry. Guys at the Academy only got thrown in the brig for maybe four weeks tops for pranks like this," Han said with a cheeky grin. "I'm sure the Rebels will be nicer."

"Four weeks?"

"Yeah, and usually like three months of KP duty. Grounded the pilots—Ow!" Leia elbowed Han, but covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He rubbed the spot on his ribs where her elbow had landed. "Nothing close to an execution or anything, though."

"Grounded the pilots?" Tycho yelled frantically. Leia wondered if Wes knew his two accomplices were cracking under pressure after only half an hour.

"Luke, no one's getting court-martialed over this unless something has happened that I'm not aware of."

"Well…"

Leia's heart dropped. "'Well' what?"

Silence.

"'Well', what, Luke?"

"It seemed pretty quiet in there so we thought maybe you'd made up and I followed the directions Wes left to open the door, but the code panel's—It's just not working. And he's the one that took your kitchen duty, so it might be longer than an hour."

Leia's face flushed five shades of pink at the idea of Tycho and Luke walking in during any part of the past few minutes. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hoping that she could conjure up some patience.

"Did you?" Luke asked timidly.

"Did we what?" Leia asked flatly.

"Make up?"

Leia looked at Han, matching smiles splitting both their faces. "Ah, more or less," Han said. "Still got some stuff to work out."

"Anything happen that'll win me any bets?" Luke asked hopefully.

Leia's mouth fell open. The gall. "What bets?" she asked innocently because Luke had apparently forgotten she could hear him. She only knew about the betting pool surrounding her relationship with Han because Han had told her about it. Luke had no idea she was aware.

Luke turned into a stammering mess again. "Oh—hey, Leia—Ah, no—nothing. No bets. Haven't made any—Han? Help me out?"

"This kinda seems like one of those situations where you'll learn more by figuring your own way out of it without my help, kid."

"Okay, I'm going to go find Wes and see about the code panel then," Luke said hurriedly.

"I didn't make any bets, Your Highness!" Tycho called through the door.

"Noted," Leia said flatly. They listened for a minute more for any sign that either man was hanging around in the corridor. When all seemed quiet, Leia picked up Han's hand and traced the lines on his palm with her thumb. "We have stuff to work out?" she asked.

Han shrugged and clasped his hand around hers. "Just don't want to assume what you're wantin', sweetheart. Kisses mean lotsa things to lotsa people."

She smiled gently and ran her fingertips over his knuckles. "Well, I'm not kissing anyone else, if that's what you're wondering."

"Me either."

"You might be stuck with me."

He grinned. "I could think of worse things."

"I don't know," she said gravely. "I have it on good authority that I'm short and bossy and kind of a handful."

"Think I can manage." Han kissed her again, his knuckles grazing her jaw. "'Sides, I have it on good authority that I'm ornery and rebellious and kind of a handful."

"My favorite things," Leia said, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before settling into his arms again. She slid her hand into his and closed her eyes, the troubles and worries of the day having obliterated her energy. "What are the betting categories, do you know?" Han hesitated long enough that Leia was sure that he most certainly knew and that she wouldn't like whatever they were. "I'm not looking to get mad. Just wondering if anyone would win anything if they walked in right now and saw us like this."

He laughed. "No one would win anything, but they'd probably go feral tryin' to find out if a qualifying event occurred. But I don't kiss and tell."

"Me either. So, if I take a nap right here for the rest of our imprisonment time and they walk in—"

Han chuckled and stroked her hair. "They may just lose their damn minds."

Leia laughed. "Good. Think we can play innocent and keep driving them crazy on the mission? I want them to wish we were fighting the whole trip."

"I think that may be the perfect punishment. For Janson especially. He's invested."

"Perfect," she whispered. Leia snuggled closer to him, eyes still closed, and drifted off as Han ran his fingers down her back soothingly.

She woke to quiet chaos, harsh whispers, and Han nudging her gently. "Sweetheart," he said in a soft tone that caused shivers to run down her spine. "Door's open. Finally."

Leia opened her eyes and lifted her head, her hand lingering on Han's chest as she got her bearings. Wes, Tycho, and Luke stood in the doorway, eyes wide. Leia squinted at them and sat up, yawning. "Oh. Hey, guys." She ignored their stares and looked at Han. "Dinner still on the table?"

"Sure is."

Leia stood, pulling Han up by the hand and letting her fingers linger in his just a second longer than strictly necessary. She pushed past Luke, Wes, and Tycho, but turned to face the men one she and Han were both out of the room.

"This ever happens again, I'm comming Rieekan right away," she said tersely, pulling her comm from her pocket for emphasis.

"Yes, m-ma'am," Tycho stuttered. Luke and Wes mumbled their agreement.

Han headed in the direction of the Falcon Leia walked alongside him. She glanced back at the Rogues before they made it too far. "Oh-four-hundred tomorrow," she reminded them. "We head to Ord Mantell first thing." She looked up at Han. "Now, I believe I have a date with some cake."

"Sure do, sweetheart," Han said, placing his hand gently between her shoulder blades.

Leia glanced back again at the trio that had caused so much trouble. One look at their expressions and she knew Han was right; they might just lose their damn minds.

A/N: I'm sure everything went totally fine on Ord Mantell and everyone lived happily ever after or whatever.