For buggybugs for the 2023 HanLeia Holiday Exchange! One of the prompts that you suggested was "Han and Leia are required to attend a fancy party neither of them really want to go to", which is the idea I went with. This ended up going in a slightly different direction than I'd intended, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!
Many thanks to DiplomaticPrincess and lajulie for beta reading! Y'all helped improve this a ton!
He drew the line at cufflinks.
"Absolutely not," Han said, planting himself solidly in the dejarik booth on the Falcon. The princess had lost her damn mind if she thought for a moment that he was going to wear the get-up she had just showed him to the kriffing party he'd been roped into.
He wasn't supposed to go in the first place; it was supposed to be Her Highness accompanied by some ensign they'd decided looked the part enough to rub elbows with society folk. Something about gathering intel or a datachip drop or something. Han truthfully hadn't paid much attention; piloting was the same no matter the details of the mission. But the ensign had been puking his guts out for the final twelve hours of the trip, and the princess had decided that Han was the only viable replacement aboard the ship.
Leia draped the ridiculous tuxedo she had been holding up over one arm, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips into a thin line. Han steeled himself for a debate.
"Look, I'm not exactly happy with the situation either," she said, each syllable clipped and deadly, "but Ensign Smythe is far too ill to go anywhere. I need someone to go ahead of me to get a feel for the place and make sure we're not walking into an ambush, and that person needs to blend in."
"Have the kid do it," Han groused. Luke had come along as some sort of back-up — Han really hadn't listened to that part of the briefing. But he knew the princess and the kid worked together well. They could case the joint or whatever they were supposed to be doing just fine between the two of them.
Leia sighed loudly and spoke slowly, as if instructing someone who barely spoke Basic, and Han got the feeling she had told him this before. "Luke is too short to wear Jordan's clothing and we need whoever goes in to be in formal attire to avoid drawing suspicion. You and Jordan are roughly the same size."
"What's the point of Luke even bein' here, then?"
Another sigh, though she spoke at a more natural pace at least. "Luke will be monitoring our comms and will act as back-up if we find ourselves in an undesirable situation."
"This whole mission's an undesirable situation," Han grumbled.
Her expression softened so much, Han worried for a brief moment that he had somehow broken the princess without really trying. When she spoke, a sort of deep weariness emanated from each word. "I agree," she admitted, to his surprise. He hardened his jaw, waiting for her to get into how she didn't want to be around him more than necessary so he could unleash a few barbs of his own, but the opportunity never came. Instead, Leia said, "But I need—" She broke off, rethinking her phrasing. "We need you to fill in. Just this once. You're already contracted for the job; the terms don't specify that piloting is your only duty on missions; you're supposed to be generally available."
Han didn't like the change she'd made from I to we, as if she thought he'd be less likely to agree to something if she were the one asking for it in particular. He…wasn't sure whether her asking would alter his willingness to help one way or the other, but he didn't like her assuming. He couldn't deny, however, that the Alliance had intentionally left his contract broad and vague specifically for situations like this, and he took pride in fulfilling his contracts.
Still, he didn't have to make it entirely easy for them. "I want hazard pay for this one, Princess."
Leia stared at him for far too long and rubbed at a spot near her forehead before answering. "Fine, but only for the time spent off the ship."
Han nodded in agreement; that was fair. The flight wasn't automatically riskier just because he had to attend an event all of a sudden. "Seventeen percent."
"Standard's fifteen," she countered without hesitation, though her voice lacked the stubbornness and drive Han was used to.
"I want an extra percent per cufflink."
Leia looked at him again for a brief moment before letting out a chuckle and shaking her head, her expression a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Fine. Fifteen percent hazard pay, two percent cufflink tax. Any other demands while you have me in a complete bind?"
Han studied her for a moment, wondering if she was serious. She seemed desperate — or as desperate as Leia ever seemed, anyway — and he knew this mission was important. He didn't know exactly why it was so important; he couldn't recall if she had even given him that information. But its importance had been stressed repeatedly both in the pre-flight briefing and while traveling. He could probably ask for a lot more, and she'd at least promise it with the best of intentions — though Han knew better than anyone that the Alliance's intentions and reality didn't always align when it came to pay. But it was no fun, having the princess offer up extra without having to spar for it at least a little.
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm good with the extra seventeen."
Leia let out a controlled breath that almost, almost sounded like a sigh of relief. She smiled at him demurely and dropped the entire outfit she had been holding in his lap. "Dress quickly," she said. "You need adequate time to scope everything out before I show up."
Han thought he had worn formal attire on a few occasions, but nothing compared to the number of layers, buttons, and pleats on the ensemble Leia had given him. The vest wasn't really that different from his own vests — maybe it had a few less patched spots and was made of nicer fabric, but a vest was a vest as far as he was concerned. The shirt collar felt restrictive, and Han considered asking Leia if it really needed to be fastened all the way up, but as soon as he saw the bow tie, he decided not to waste his breath.
He had tied a bow tie or two over the years, but his hands were out of practice, and he fumbled with it for far longer than he would ever admit. He had just gotten the knot right when there was a knock on his cabin door.
Han palmed the door open only to find Leia standing centims from him. She was still in her beige fatigues, but had done something with her hair that looked complicated — fancy-looking twists and knots made up the bulk of the style without an Alderaanian braid in sight. He wouldn't say he liked it, but it certainly looked formal.
Leia held up the cufflinks he had objected to so severely. "Wanted to get our money's worth since we're paying an extra percent for each of these," she said in a teasing tone, though she didn't hand the baubles over to Han. Instead, he felt cool fingers on his, lifting his hand gently and positioning his arm so she could fasten one of the cufflinks onto his shirt herself.
"Coulda probably done that," he said, though he made no move to take over.
Leia shook her head slightly without looking at his face, entirely focused on the task in front of her. Han was suddenly aware of how close she was to him. They had been physically close to one another many times — falling in a heap across the Falcon's threshold when trying to escape a group of stormtroopers, sleeping huddled together under an impossibly small bridge to escape the driving rain that had delayed her contact half a day, tackling one another in a desperate attempt to stay out of the path of blasterfire — but it was always a frenzied, almost violent intrusion of personal space borne entirely out of the need to survive. This was purposeful, careful, and it seemed to make breathing feel like a complex series of tasks.
"You'll need to keep an ear out for mentions of security or anyone talking about contacting the authorities," Leia said quietly, wriggling the decorative end of the cufflink through the hole in his sleeve. "And I have a picture to show you of who we're looking to meet with. If you see him, I need to know right away. You cannot lose sight of him."
Han furrowed his brow, confused. Usually when the princess picked up datachips, the delivery person knew where to find her. "Your contact won't be lookin' for ya?"
Leia scoffed softly and shook her head again as she fiddled with the toggle side of the cufflink, securing it in place. She looked Han in the eye for a mere second before taking his other hand to repeat the process.
"My contact doesn't know I'll be here at all." She paused, seeming to debate something with herself before continuing. "He's a former colleague of my father's who promised the Alliance help and promptly disappeared the moment the Senate was dissolved. He's been extremely difficult to track down. We're not even sure whose side he's on at this point, though if he supports the Empire, he is doing so extremely quietly. Either way, he has information and resources that we need. He will supposedly be at this event, and we hope that, if he has in fact abandoned the cause, he'll at least be less likely to have me arrested on-sight than he would a random Alliance operative. He was fond of my entire family, myself included. We're banking on that still being true." She secured the second cufflink and lingered for a second with her thumb resting against his palm.
"Seems risky," Han commented, apprehension gnawing at the back of his mind. What she had just described sounded less like a well-organized mission and more like a last-ditch effort to beg for support, one that was about as likely to end poorly as it was to end well.
Leia scoffed again. "It seems desperate. Because we are." She shrugged, big brown eyes meeting his. "Some things are worth the risk." She stepped closer and tugged lightly on the ends of the bowtie, straightening it. "Truthfully, I'm not entirely sure that this is, but I am not opposed enough to refuse to try."
She was nervous — almost seemed scared — and he didn't love that. Leia was seldom unsure of herself. Her showing it was rare, and her admitting to feeling unsure out loud — to Han of all people — was even rarer. They couldn't go into such a precarious situation with her so anxious. Han cleared his throat softly. "Well, sweetheart, if anyone can convince a self-interested idiot to turn himself around, it's you."
Leia barely reacted, though Han could have sworn he saw her pale complexion turn slightly pinker, and a smile definitely played at the edge of her lips.
She sobered very suddenly and swallowed hard. "If he does try to turn me in—"
"You really think he'll do that?"
She pressed her lips together and shrugged. "I doubt he would right away. He'll probably at least hear me out for a minute."
His concern lessened somewhat. "Oh. Well, if he gives you a whole minute, you got 'im," he said without hesitation.
Leia appeared skeptical. "You really think so?"
Han shrugged. He wasn't trying to flatter her. The princess could be a pain in the ass, sure, but he knew better than anyone that she wielded that attribute like a precise weapon, using her pain-in-the-assery to convince others to do the right thing.
"You got me," he said. Admitting it pained him less than he expected it to. "And I heard from a real reliable source just last week that I'm 'the most stubborn, nerf-headed male in the entire galaxy'." Han suspected Leia had only specified male because she couldn't honestly assert that he was more stubborn than she was, but he kept that theory to himself.
She laughed softly, skepticism of his confidence in her apparently gone. She didn't say anything more about her apprehension, but instead narrowed her eyes slightly at a spot above his own sightline and brushed a few strands of hair carefully off his forehead.
Han slid the tux jacket on and Leia took a step back, surveying his entire appearance. She gave a final nod of approval, murmuring, "You'll do," before meeting his gaze again and whispering, "Thank you."
Han hadn't grumbled about attending his own retirement party for days. Leia was pretty sure his silence on the matter was driven by his particular brand of reactive optimism — a sort of rebellious positivity that had bolstered his confidence when faced with impossible odds for much of his life. She usually loved that about him; it counteracted the overthinking she had a tendency to fall into and eventually pointed them, as a pair, toward a sort of realistic balance. But his lack of complaining about this party in particular only served to emphasize that the entire situation wasn't normal, and Leia longed to forget that fact for as long as possible.
The event itself would be fine; Han, Luke, and Wedge were all retiring from military service after two years spent cleaning up Imperial remnants scattered around the galaxy. They each had other things they wanted to move on to, and the New Republic felt it only right that the three dedicated officers be given a proper send-off.
The event would be fine; Leia just wasn't sure how people would react to her presence now that the truth about her parentage had been made public.
It had been a semi-planned and indirect announcement. She'd had some notice at least. Much of the galaxy knew that she and Luke had discovered they were long-lost twins during the war. When Luke announced in an interview that he would be spending his time post-retirement reviving the Jedi Order, he felt compelled to discuss what had ultimately been the cause of the original Order's end. Vader had been mentioned, and Luke had not held back the truth. It had taken approximately thirty minutes after the interview was broadcast for tabloids to piece things together. Han had screened the messages left on Leia's comm the entire weekend, and she hadn't gone anywhere aside from her office and home in a week.
Her hands shook as she braided her hair and applied make-up in preparation for the party. She felt more nervous than she had in…Well, Leia couldn't quite remember when she had last felt so nervous. She had been jittery before her wedding, and her stomach had fluttered the day she was sworn into the New Republic Senate, but both of those instances had involved excitement. This…facing the public after the news about her biological father had made its way around the galaxy…her nerves felt far closer to dread than anything else.
Han entered the 'fresher behind her, making vague and noncommittal adjustments to his hair and the pleats on his shirt. He hadn't fussed about the black-tie dress code at all, which was, frankly, alarming. Leia suspected he was trying to make an already stressful event easier for her, but she almost wished he'd complain just to have a bit of normalcy back.
"Like your hair like that," Han murmured, his hand settling on her hip.
Leia smiled at their reflection in the mirror, amused. She had decided on a simple braided style for her own sanity — something very obviously Alderaanian, but hardly complex to keep her pre-party stress to a minimum. Paired with her dress, it would look adequately formal, but the style was familiar enough to her that she could do it in her sleep. "It's hardly different than what I wear to the office," she mused.
"I know," Han said. "I like when you look like you." He planted a kiss right in front of her ear, eliciting another small smile from her.
His cufflinks were on the 'fresher counter in front of her. When he reached around her for them, she snatched them away from him. "That's my job," she insisted, doing her best to force playfulness into her tone.
"Sweetheart," Han said, pressing another kiss to her temple, "you're still gettin' ready. I can finish gettin' myself dressed."
She shook her head slowly and turned to face him. "I know you can," she said, picking up his hand and folding back the cuff of his sleeve, "but I like doing it."
A lopsided grin spread across his face and Han shrugged. "I ain't gonna stop you."
She pressed her lips to his knuckles briefly before matching up the holes on the sleeve. "Good."
The ritual had snuck up on them one event at a time. Leia remembered the very first time she had helped Han get ready, putting on cufflinks for him in an attempt to distract herself from the mission they were about to embark on, one that had felt destined for failure. They often bickered in those days, and he had been initially resistant to helping her at all, but that moment had felt almost…intimate. Han had said some encouraging things in those few seconds that had left her feeling as if she could singlehandedly take on an entire infantry.
There hadn't been many instances that demanded Han wear formal attire during the war, but when it was required — usually for an undercover mission — Leia felt an anxious need to help him with finishing touches. It gave her something to focus on before they headed into a precarious situation, and it gave him a chance — which he always seemed glad to take — to say something meant to keep her spirits up and calm her nerves despite the imminent danger. When the war ended and formal events were a more regular occurrence, she kept the habit up. On the few instances when she had to attend an event without Han, she found herself missing the ritual.
The first cufflink fastened, Leia paused before moving on to the second, wanting to savor the last few moments she'd have alone with her husband that evening — and possibly the last few moments of peace she'd have for awhile.
Her hesitation seemed to pique Han's interest. He studied her face with a gentle, soft expression that few others ever saw. "We got this," he said quietly, running a hand down Leia's arm lightly. "Give 'em hell."
She laughed softly and tapped on his wrist lightly with her thumb. "It might behoove us to go into the evening with a less combative attitude."
Han considered her words a moment before nodding. "S'pose so. Okay, we'll get there, assess the situation, and give 'em hell as needed."
Leia grinned and stood on her toes, arms sliding behind his neck. "Spoken like a true general," she murmured before kissing him.
He pulled away just long enough to mutter, "Former general," against her lips before returning the kiss.
She laughed. "I stand corrected."
Once Leia finished fastening the second cufflink, she looked up at him again, studying him with shining eyes. She still found it hard to believe sometimes that he was hers, that they had managed to overcome so much individual stubbornness and hurt, that she had gotten him back after he had been ripped from her arms so callously and for so long, that they had remained at each other's side despite petty arguments and literal battles and the revelation of what might be the worst family secret in the history of the galaxy.
When they left their flat, muttering promises to one another to make the evening a short one, Leia slid her hand in Han's and felt the strength, the gentle and steady support, the love that he offered her endlessly. And when they arrived at the venue, and she again heard, We got this, murmured in her ear, she only hesitated a moment before walking into the building. With Han by her side, she felt like she could take on the entire galaxy.
