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“That went well,” Leia said, oozing sarcasm.
“Hey, we’re in one piece, aren’t we? And on the ground,” Han pointed out.
“I’d say we successfully averted a complete disaster, anyway,” Poe agreed. “We can fix this, right? Probably. Yeah, we can fix this.”
“Don’t try, kid, you’re not helping.” Han squeezed Poe’s shoulder and turned to Leia. “I can fix this.”
Leia arched one delicately shaped eyebrow, arms crossed in front of her chest. “I’ve heard that before.”
“And have I ever let you down? Don’t answer that.”
Poe stuck his head out from beneath the control panel. “If this is a lover’s quarrel type thing, I can go. Not like there aren’t five thousand other things on this ship that need to get fixed.”
“Stay,” Leia said, and Poe winced.
“Um. Okay.” He hid back beneath the control panel.
“I should probably help Dameron there,” Han said, and escaped down next to Poe.
Poe blinked at him. “Captain?”
“Just let me have this, kid,” Han muttered, scooching forward and stealing Poe’s pliers.
Poe considered moving; there honestly wasn’t enough room for two grown men crouched in the same small space, meddling with the same wiring. Han was half-pressed up against him and… You know what, Han might need Poe’s help, he should stay.
Leia’s voice echoed from behind them. “I’m sure there was a better idea than crashing.”
Han and Poe turned as one to find Leia on their eye level. Poe over-balanced and knocked into Han; Leia’s mouth twitched.
“I was waiting for your better idea, sweetheart,” Han said.
“I should have known the two of you together would be a disaster, the kings of terrible ideas.”
“Hey, my terrible ideas succeed at least some of the time,” Poe protested. “I have a good record.”
Han waved the pliers in his hand at Leia. “Let’s remember which of us has the crazy Skywalker blood here. You and your brother aren’t exactly models of patience and restraint and thorough plan-making.”
Poe bit his lip to hide his wince. He wasn’t a stranger to Han and Leia’s explosive arguments, blow-up fights, and lack of tact, but usually he got to sit back and watch the show, not be a part of it.
“Is that really where you want to take this, flyboy?” Leia asked, pink rising in her cheeks.
“No, honestly I just wanna sit here with Dameron and fix my ship.”
“Oh, fix your ship,” Leia said, rising back to her feet and striding out of the cockpit.
The silence felt telling. Han looked to Poe for a second and Poe swiftly averted his gaze.
They both went back to the repairs.
-
As time passed it became clear to Poe that Han and Leia were both too stubborn to be the first to admit that it was a bad situation all around and there was enough blame for all of them, but they’d do better to just calm down and help each other. Poe didn’t know all the details and frankly neither desired nor deserved to, but he did know that Han and Leia were still in a fragile, rough place after coming together again at Takodana.
Han and Leia knew neither sulking nor fighting would help them, but Poe didn’t think either of them was in the state of mind to be the first to admit they’d been wrong.
So he figured, maybe he could break the ice.
Poe found Leia outside the ship, repairing damage to the hull. Poe had seen Leia in situations he doubted anyone but her could handle and he had seen her jump in and get her hands dirty, but even so, he was surprised.
That must have shown on his face because when she glanced up and saw him, she set down her drill and said, “I’m married to Han; you think I don’t know my way around the Falcon?”
“Sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.” Poe climbed up to sit beside her. “Want some help?”
“We both know that isn’t why you’re out here.”
“Consider me a peace offering? Or maybe a peace broker. Diplomat?”
Leia’s mouth quirked. “Unsent and unasked for.”
“I like to take initiative.”
“That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in hours.”
Poe rubbed at the metal of the ship. “Don’t think too badly of Captain Solo. I know he’s trying to think of the right thing to say. It’s just… hard to find it. And say it.”
“It always is.”
He kept looking at the Millennium Falcon so he wouldn’t have to meet Leia’s eyes. “I’m sorry I got caught, and that I lost my ship, and that I couldn’t help Han shake those TIEs before they hit us.”
“You know what I hate, Poe? Apologies for being human. You’re not perfect; well, guess what? Neither is anyone else.”
“I know, but--”
As she touched Poe’s knee, Leia said, “Don’t tell him I said so but Han was right. I didn’t have a better idea, and here we are. You were right, too. We can fix it. Probably.”
“My life motto, honestly. We can do it! Probably.”
Leia’s smile was warm. “My brother says much the same. Believing you can do a thing is the most important step.”
“The power of positive thinking?”
“He’s always been better at it than me. It’s why I like you, I think. You remind me of him.” Leia dipped her head to the side. “And maybe just a little bit of me, too.”
Poe stood and offered Leia his hand. “That’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me, General.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re cocky enough already.” She accepted Poe’s hand and his assistance in getting back down to the ground, where they walked back inside the hatch to find Han, still buried beneath the control panel in the cockpit.
He looked back over his shoulder. “Should I be concerned?”
“No more than usual,” Leia said. “It’s getting late; we’re all tired. I think some rest is in order; we’ll attack this problem in the morning.”
Brokering peace, Poe thought.
Han crawled out from beneath the panel, brushing off his pants. He stood awkwardly before them for a moment before saying, “Give me a minute.”
He jogged out down the corridor and Poe looked to Leia. She shrugged.
Han came back with a slightly dusty bottle of whiskey. “To help us relax?”
Leia laughed.
Peace offering accepted.
-
“You haven’t been through anything until you’ve been stuffed in a gold bikini and chained to a Hutt,” Leia declared, passing the bottle back to Han.
“And then you strangled him with it! With your own chains!” It had been one of Poe’s favorite bedtime stories as a kid; he’d made his dad tell it over and over again.
“Yeah, that felt great,” Leia said with a sly smile. “You know, in parts of the galaxy they call me Huttslayer.”
“Huttslayer? Seriously? Can I call you that?”
Han snorted and Leia rolled her eyes. “Can’t even get him to call me Leia but he jumps on Huttslayer.”
“Because it’s amazing. Did you see it?” Poe asked Han. “When she strangled him?”
Han lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “I was mostly blind at the time and trying not to fall in a sarlacc pit.”
“Oh, yeah, the sarlacc. General Calrissian said he was the one who almost fell in though, and you nearly shot him.”
“Nearly, wasn’t even close,” Han protested. “Lando always did like his tall tales.”
“Like no one else around here,” Leia drawled.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about; I tell things exactly as they are.”
Poe laughed and then grabbed for the bottle, raising it to his lips. He lowered it, blinking. “It’s empty.”
He was subjected to a chorus of chuckling, which he felt was rather rude; this was a tragedy.
Though, to be fair, maybe he had had enough. He had somehow wedged himself in between Han and Leia, leaning against them where they were sitting on the floor up against the back of the sofa in the lounge area. He didn’t even remember quite how they had ended up on the floor and instead he was thinking about that one time he had kissed Leia, late at night in her office as they discussed plans. He had been so embarrassed afterwards that he had apologized and run out; they had never mentioned it again.
Poe wondered if he should tell Han he had kissed his wife. He wondered if Han would hit him. Was Han the hitting type? Or the jealous type?
Kissing Leia had been nice. Her mouth was so soft and she kissed like she knew exactly what she wanted. He wondered if that meant she actually had wanted him. What would she do if Poe leaned over now and kissed her again? She was so close. It would be easy.
Or what if Poe kissed Han? He remembered how they had kept getting in each other’s space earlier, in the cockpit. Han still used the same cologne he had used years ago when he visited Yavin 4; Poe liked the way it smelled.
“Poe,” someone said, and Poe nearly jumped.
“What?”
Han and Leia were both watching him; he realized he had zoned out.
“Is there more whiskey?” he asked, and waved the bottle.
“As far as you’re concerned, no,” Han said, and snagged the bottle, setting it up out of reach. “You drink like Luke. Complete lightweight.”
“I feel great,” Poe protested.
“Yeah, that’s what he always says, too.”
“If I were really drunk,” Poe insisted, suddenly possessed of a brilliant plan, “would I do this?” He leaned over and kissed Leia, whose lips were as soft as he remembered, and then he kissed Han, who seemed bewildered but landed a hand on Poe’s hip anyway.
“Yes,” Leia said. “I expect you would.”
“Oh, wow,” Poe said, and flushed to the tips of his ears. “So maybe, uh, maybe I’ll go to bed.” He stumbled when he stood up, clumsy and graceless. Blast. How much had he had?
It was surprising, probably, that he remembered where the crew quarters were. The bunk was hard as he collapsed face-first onto it, but it was too late to abort this particular plan.
“Ow,” he muttered, and thought he should have wandered into Han’s quarters instead. The bunk in there had to be nicer. He was drunk; he bet Han and Leia would’ve let him have it. Or at least, they wouldn’t have felt much like going to the effort of moving him.
The bunk dipped as two someones sat down on it. Considering there were only two other someones on this ship, Poe had a pretty good idea who the bodies belonged to.
Someone stroked his hair behind his ear; someone else pulled a blanket over him.
“When you’re less drunk,” a voice that definitely belonged to Leia said, “we’ll revisit this.”
Poe fell asleep wondering first if he had dreamed that, and second, if this was a disaster narrowly averted or one slammed into head-on.