I am the epitome of "sorry/not sorry" about the indulgence of this chapter. :)

"Leia!" Ambassador Tinn said, enthusiastic and loud. "I am so glad you were able to attend tonight."

Leia smiled, feeling flushed and transparent as Han's hand splayed protectively on her lower back. The heat of his fingertips seemed to bleed into her lower abdomen. What a mistake, this low-backed dress! She knew what Han's hands were capable of doing to her. "Good evening, Alani," she said. "The hall looks incredible."

The two women looked up at the aureate ceiling, gilded sometime in the past three days. It seemed the planning committee for this event had spared no expense. Soft lights highlighted the most opulent features of the hall: enormous pillars, rare artwork, the ridiculous faux-marble beneath their feet. If she hadn't known better she would have sworn she was on Coruscant and not in a mess hall on a Mon Calamari battle cruiser.

A younger Leia might have considered the sheer extravagance of the decor beautiful. But now beautiful had a more ephemeral meaning to her. Survival was beautiful. Victory was beautiful.

Expense for the sake of expense? Not beautiful.

Clearly the ambassador hadn't been similarly affected by the events of the last five years. "It truly does! I had no idea we could transform this ship into something so palatial."

Her tone made it all too apparent the ambassador meant that as a compliment. The fingers at her back spasmed, then resumed their slow caress. Leia leaned into Han's hand. "Indeed," she said, then turned her head slightly to indicate the man at her side. "Ambassador, may I introduce General Han Solo of Fleet Command? Han, this is Alani Tinn, New Republic Ambassador to Karin."

Leia felt Han nod beside her. "Ma'am," he said. His voice, so close to her ear, felt dark with promise. She tamped down her instinct to shiver. Part of her wanted him to take his hand away from her back. Another part, a much larger part, wanted to solder it to her skin.

"General Solo! A pleasure!" Tinn chittered. "Your endeavors are well known to us all, of course. What an honor to meet an actual war hero tonight!"

Leia watched Tinn carefully, measuring her honesty under the sensationalist flattery. The woman's eyes were wide, her lips puckered to hollow out her cheeks and emphasize her bone structure. Alani turned her upper body at the waist so her decolletage faced Han, though his eyes were locked on the ambassador's.

Utterly transparent, Leia thought, amused.

For the first three years of their acquaintance Leia had carefully watched Han's interactions with his many admirers. Of course, if anyone were to ask, Leia would vehemently deny it; such behavior was unbecoming her upbringing. But she hadn't been able to help it. She'd felt like an outsider to her own body, watching herself find excuses to spy on him or his ship. She'd been chary of his advances but intrigued despite herself. It had all manifested in a sense that she needed more information about him in order to react to him accordingly.

And as much as she had intended to watch him, she had also been watching them: the throng of beings that showed interest in Han. Male and female, human and non-human: she'd observed them all. She knew the telltale signs. Ambassador Tinn was certainly attracted to the war hero at Leia's side.

The heat in Leia's stomach flared: a little jealousy, she thought. She could now recognize that feeling after avoiding it for so long. But oh yes there was also a nice, deep burn of validation in her stomach. She wasn't an outsider looking in now. Leia knew how Han looked as he slept beside her. She knew the deep, mumbled incoherence that tumbled from his lips when he was completely overwhelmed. She could testify to the taste of his shoulder in the spray of a shower. Leia was the clear object of Alani's envy: how he acted with her, how she spoke to him, how they touched.

Was it petty of her to feel so proud? Of course. But, oh god, it felt good to know more about the man being admired than the admirer did. It had been a long three years of confused outside observation that had led them here.

Han cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks. Though," he shifted uncomfortably, "there are a few war heroes here tonight."

Leia followed his eyes as they scanned the room.

"Crix Madine's over there," he nodded to the far side of the hall. "I'm sure Ackbar's wandering around. He loves these things for some ungodly reason."

Leia smiled at his word choice.

"Oh," Tinn laughed. "I'm sure they're both perfectly pleasant. But neither of them were around for both Death Stars!"

Han shrugged. "Leia's here, too."

Leia turned her smile to him and stepped further into his side, flattered. "So kind of you to notice," she said, then turned back to Ambassador Tinn. "Believe me, this is false modesty from the general. Were we in a more casual setting he would gladly tell you war stories for hours."

Han scowled playfully at Leia. "It would only take hours if I included Her Worship's contributions."

His tone dripped with irony. Leia felt his fingers press into her lower back but she continued the play. "Rescuing you from your own recklessness certainly felt like a full-time occupation, General," she said.

In response, his fingers slipped beneath the silk of her dress, just a momentary brush. Swift bursts of electricity ran up her spine, unexpected tendrils of heat that threw Leia into sharp memories of his mouth, his fingers, the way he breathed her name into her ear when he was riding the blurry line between buildup and release. The room felt inexplicably hotter. She closed her eyes, trying to divert the sudden wave of heat. And then, just as suddenly, his fingers rose to the middle of her back, further up than before, their placement totally benign.

Leia caught her breath and blinked at his nonchalant expression. That was uncalled for. And then she realized he may not have even realized how intense her reaction had been. The sight of him in the dress uniform, and more broadly his willingness to accompany her tonight, had made her thoughts dip into inappropriateness a number of times already. He may or may not be exploiting that fact. His face gave nothing away.

Ambassador Tinn seemed delightfully unaware of the effect Han was having on Leia. "Oh! Aren't you two adorable! How you talk!"

Leia tilted her head down and Han cleared his throat. "I'll … go get the, uh, drinks?" Han sputtered and dropped his hand from her back.

"Thank you," Leia said as he walked away. She turned back to the ambassador before she had the chance to watch him leave.

But Tinn was eyeing Leia in a knowing manner. "It's wonderful to see you accompanied, my dear. So often you attend our events unescorted."

Leia's nerves grated at the insinuation that she was somehow improved by Han's presence tonight. Particularly because his attendance had been a surprise to her. "Han is leaving in the morning for his next assignment," she replied. "There will be ample opportunity to see me unescorted in the weeks to come."

She hoped her tone conveyed a playful warning to Tinn. She wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Is it serious between the two of you?" Tinn asked. She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "You know how people talk."

Leia eyed her carefully. "Serious enough," she said. She felt no need to expound on it.

"Oh, please, Leia! You always act so cavalier about everything!" Ambassador Tinn waved a hand in the air. "How are the rest of us to know how to treat him if we don't know anything about your relationship?"

Leia instinctively took a step back, her anger a quick bite to her chest. "You treat him as his rank and actions merit. Why would you think otherwise?"

Perhaps Leia's tone held more heat than she intended. She had no desire to defend Han or herself tonight. She didn't want to talk about their relationship at all, if she could get away with it. What they had was private and none of anyone's business aside from the two of them. She felt fiercely protective of their privacy; if Han was going to make a gesture for her, she would absolutely do the same for him.

Ambassador Tinn's eyes opened wide. "Of course," the ambassador said. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

Leia nodded. "Thank you. Now," she opened her hands wide, "let's discuss Karin."

Han's brain was repeating the word adorable on a hateful loop as he made his way to the open bar. He scowled as he ordered a whiskey.

All in all he'd expected a lot worse. The uniform was a pain in the ass, of course, and some of these people were so boring he wanted to punch them just to spice them up a bit. But, really, he'd expected that. Despite what Leia seemed to think, he knew full well what had been awaiting him at this dinner. The fact that he'd still shown up to her quarters was a testament to how much he had wanted to do this for her.

The look on her face had been exactly what he'd been aiming for.

Leia wasn't one to get worked up over a little thing like clothing. He knew she loved undoing the thigh tie-down on his holster and pulling him to her by the front of his shirt. But beyond that? The woman wasn't fazed by Empires or Sith Lords. She wasn't exactly the kind of person to fawn all over a uniform.

He looked good, sure. He knew he was objectively attractive. So was Leia. It wasn't difficult for him to clean up.

There was much more to this gesture than simply accompanying her to a dinner. He knew what this uniform really represented to Leia. It screamed commitment in a way he would never be able to.

Han was in critical repair mode, and he knew it. He'd spent three years telling her with every breath and every goddamn word he spoke that he was leaving her. It'd been something of a mantra. His slogan. I'm in it for the money. I expect to be well paid. If I don't pay off Jabba the Hutt, I'm a dead man.

So this idea of him leaving was branded on Leia like a tattoo. In whatever context: his work with the fleet, his death, whatever. And he could tell she was holding things back from him because of it. Unconsciously, maybe. Little things: dinners and ceremonies and receptions. After the third such misdirect, he'd decided to step in and offer the solution to her problem.

It wasn't that he desperately wanted to attend these stupid events. His preference was Leia, alone. Period. But he wanted her to know that he was in this for the long haul. That hiding things from him wouldn't do any good. He was a smart guy. He'd known what commitment looked like. And he'd gladly gone all in.

So he'd pulled out the dress uniform and made the gesture. And goddamn Leia couldn't keep her hands off him tonight.

He wasn't even sure she knew she'd been doing it. Running a finger up and down the length of his outer thigh. Leaning into his hand on her back. Playing with his fingers. All night long she'd been attentive, talking to him about the other dinner guests, giving him the most ridiculous details about the Provisional Council members that she knew. If he'd thought a formal dinner with Leia was going to be boring as hell, he'd been wonderfully mistaken.

The droid at the bar served him his whiskey but Han wasn't quite ready to rejoin her conversation with the ambassador. He took a sip from his tumbler instead, leaning against the bar and glancing around the crowd. Plenty of male humans: funny how that trend seemed to be harder to break than it should've been. Plenty of older people, too. Older than him, far older than Leia. Plenty of people wearing more credits tonight than he had to his name. Cumulatively.

He searched for Leia. Found her right where he'd left her, gesturing around her to emphasize whatever point she was making. Another human, a man, had joined them and seemed to be absorbed in Leia's little speech. She looked beautiful, of course. He liked her dress tonight, too, with most of her back bare to him. It was convenient access. If she could keep finding excuses to touch him, he was damn well going to do the same to her.

And, really, he loved what he thought she was wearing underneath it all. He'd touched the slightest hint of lace when he'd dipped his fingers into her dress a few minutes ago. Felt expensive, too. Leia in expensive lingerie was certainly a sight to behold. It was good to know she had been anticipating the same kind of late-night send-off that he had been.

"Ah, refuge."

Han turned his head to see a human male settling next to him against the bar. The man was wearing a long, black robe and his thinning hair was slicked back with too much oil. His mustache looked like it was as expensive to keep up as Lando claimed his to be. "I see you've discovered the secret to escorting royalty, General Solo."

Han turned to face the man, still unaccustomed to perfect strangers knowing him on sight. "Alcohol makes a lot of things better," he said, wondering if escorting royalty was a polite euphemism for fucking royalty.

The man nodded. "Thank the stars this one has an open bar. Hiding a flask in this ensemble is a nightmare."

Han raised his tumbler in salute. "I'll drink to that."

The other man smiled ruefully. "I am Count Vangress, Consort to Prince-Regent Comlin of Andros."

Han nodded and shook Vangress' hand. "Han Solo."

"A pleasure," the count said. "I am already quite bored with this dinner. Are you planning to shoot something soon?"

Han threw him an incredulous look.

Vangress held up his hands. "Your reputation precedes you. I was only hoping for some excitement."

Honestly, Han was a little amused, though the man might have been making a dig at him. "Sorry. I'm on my best behavior tonight." He nodded to the ridiculous gold ceiling. "On a scale of one to five, how awful is this party?"

"One to five?"Vangress kept his smile in place. "General, this gathering does not even register on that scale."

"Hell," Han swore. "I thought I was doing well for a test flight."

"Ah, take your victories where you find them." Vangress took a long pull of his drink. "You chose well for your test flight. Wait until you have to attend a wedding."

Han made a face and tossed back the rest of his whiskey. "I already abandoned my post," he gestured with the tumbler. "Tinny over there called us adorable and I jumped ship."

The count laughed loudly. Two Twi'leks turned to glare at them. "Ambassador Tinn," he corrected. "And I'm afraid that's the more generous of terms to use."

"Ambassador?"

"Adorable." Vangress corrected. "Tonight makes you legitimate. And you are ripe for gossip."

Han scowled. That was nothing new. People had been gossiping about Leia and him since before they'd been anything to justify the gossip. He freely admitted to fueling the fire at some points, though he regretted that now. The small-time, idle gossip on Echo Base was one thing: galactic renown and the free press was another. All he wanted was to fly his ship and be with his princess in peace. Was that too much to ask? "Does it get any easier?" he asked Vangress.

"Escorting royalty?" the count asked. At Han's nod, Vangress winked. "It did for me. But you're a different case altogether, aren't you?"

Han cocked an eyebrow.

"I am consort to my planet's heir-in-waiting. You are consort to the galaxy's princess," Vangress looked up to the ceiling. "She's a symbol. An icon. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone in the Core that does not know her on sight."

Han grimaced. He didn't like thinking of her like that. He preferred playful, stubborn, whip-smart, sexy Leia. The real Leia. Not the figurehead.

Vangress continued. "You're both well-known celebrities. And then, too, there's a lovely drama to your love story, isn't there?"

Han shuffled his feet, uncomfortable. From what he remembered it had felt a lot more like sexual repression and torturous infatuation than drama. He'd spent as much time hating her as he did secretly loving her. Seemed more like a stupid waste of time than drama to him.

"My advice to you, General Solo," Vangress said, "is to not capitulate to the pressure to act docile."

"Docile?" Han laughed and signaled the droid bartender for a refill. "I've never been docile a day in my life."

"This type of life tends to encourage it."

Han stared at Vangress, trying to fathom what the man was telling him. The pressure to act docile sounded like a fake cause of death on a joke post-mortem report. "Look, buddy. I act how I want to act. Nobody tells me what to do."

Vangress arched a brow and turned his head slightly. "You're sure?"

Han followed the count's eyes as they located Leia. A rush of anger swept through Han but he tamped it down. This wasn't a cantina on Nar Shaddaa and he didn't have to justify himself to anyone here. His hopes for a decent conversation with another guest quickly abashed, he turned toward the bar and reached for the new tumbler. "Nope," he said, turning. "You can bet that wherever I am, I'm where I want to be."

"Ah," Vangress murmured. "I see."

"No, probably not," Han quipped. He nodded to the count and made his way back to Leia.

"Play with me."

Leia jerked in her seat and looked at Han, sitting next to her at the dinner table, the long tablecloth hiding the way his hand slid up her covered thigh. "What?" she hissed.

"Let's play a game," he clarified. "It's called Who's Fucking Who?"

She looked around them, noting the dull faces of their dinner companions as they looked to the head table. Mon Mothma was endeavoring to rally the ambassadors, all two hundred in attendance tonight, but the keynote speech was unfortunately placed after dessert had already been served. The hall was full of tired diplomats acting civilly. Leia would guess that half of them were barely listening.

She leaned over to Han. "Whom."

He gave her an odd look.

"'Who's Fucking Whom?' Not who," she clarified. "One is the subject doing the fucking. And the other is the object being fucked."

The look on his face was a hilarious combination of annoyance and outright admiration, as if he couldn't decide whether to be irritated or aroused by her correction. "Fine. Who's Fucking Whom? In the strictest grammatical sense."

She smiled. "Terms?"

Han looked delighted. "If I guess correctly, you talk in bed with me tonight."

That seemed relatively chaste. "That's it?" She'd been expecting something much filthier. Their sexual relationship wasn't necessarily deviant, not in comparison to the wide range of cultures represented here tonight, but they'd been adventurous enough. She would have expected some of his typical brand of creativity.

"Hmm." He pretended to consider it. She knew him well enough to know that this was not sincere contemplation. You have an angle, Solo. "I think that about does it."

"And what's in it for me?" she asked.

His smile was terribly dark, like she had fallen right into his trap. "Well, Leia," he pressed his lips against her ear so quickly that she barely felt them before they slid away again. She closed her eyes. The man was smooth, she had to give it to him. "I'm really just trying to fuck you in every conceivable position and on every possible surface of your quarters once we blast out of here. So you tell me. What's in it for you?"

She opened her eyes, a little breathless. "Every position? Every surface?"

He nodded, his eyes deceptively wide and innocent. Leia doubted he'd ever actually been as innocent as he tried to appear.

"Awfully sure of yourself, if you ask me," Leia murmured. "How do I know you'll stick to your end of the bargain?"

He removed his hand from her thigh, leaned back and opened his hands wide. "You don't honestly need another reason. This is exhausting and I'm the sexiest thing in this room. By far."

She rolled her eyes and copied his gesture, hands splayed out in obvious contradiction.

"Well," he amended. "Okay. Maybe it's a tie."

She reached over and pulled his hand back to her leg and pressed his fingertips into her inner thigh. "Okay, Hotshot. Who's up first?"