Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” 

Ben finished tucking his shiny Macbook Pro into the sleek dark grey backpack he used as his work bag. Concern dotted the furrow in his brow as he watched her from the opposite side of their shared kitchen table. 

Despite the ball of anxiety growing larger in the pit of her stomach with each passing second, Rey smiled and nodded in the hopes that she’d convince her boyfriend that she was perfectly comfortable with the idea of cooking an entire Hanukkah dinner for the entire Organa-Solo clan. 

Even though she’d never celebrated Hanukkah in her life and her cooking experience was limited to overcooked omelets and boxed macaroni and cheese, she’d somehow been compelled to enthusiastically volunteer for the job two weeks ago over a truly cornucopian Thanksgiving dinner. Which, at the time, three glasses of wine in, sounded like a good idea. 

Now, faced with the fulfillment of those promises, she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. 

“Oh yeah.” Rey’s smile stretched across her face in a way that likely looked as fake as it felt. “I’ve totally got this. I’m going to Target to get potatoes and… stuff.” 

Ben raised an eyebrow as he zipped up his backpack. “Potatoes and… stuff? Rey, I know you haven’t made latkes and brisket before, and I know you like to do things on your own, but the offer of my mother’s recipes are still on the table.” 

Rey shook her head. She held up her cell phone and shook it with a little flourish. “I’ve got the power of the internet on my side, Ben. There’s no way I can’t hone in on the best latkes and brisket out there.” 

Ben chuckled and swung his bag over his shoulders. “If you say so, then I’ll leave you to it.” He walked around the kitchen table and leaned down to kiss her. Even two years into their relationship, the feeling of his soft lips pressed against hers still sent a tingle down her spine. She smiled against his mouth and he returned the expression. 

“And thank you, by the way,” Ben pulled back a few inches and the soft look in his eyes made her heart clench. “For diving into the deep end with my family. They aren’t exactly the easiest bunch and I… I was on such bad terms with them for so long.” 

He pursed his lips and looked up, blinking a little too fast. “This is almost like a weird fever dream for me and I… can’t ever thank you enough.” 

Rey felt a blush creep up her cheeks. To hear such affection and admiration directed at her wasn’t exactly something she was used to. She’d been trying to get better at accepting things like compliments and love, but it still made her freeze on occasion. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she joked, steering the conversation away from her own embarrassment. “I haven’t made it.” 

Ben smiled down at her and Rey swore she felt herself go a little weak in the knees. He brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s going to be perfect. I just know it.” 

After leaning in for one last kiss, Ben straightened and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight after work. I’ll get here by five-thirty. I told my parents to get here between then and six, so I’ll try and arrive before them.” 

With final well-wishes for a good day and the jingle of keys, he was out the door. 

Rey immediately slumped in her chair. 

Perfect. 

He was hoping for perfect. 

The perfect Hanukkah dinner. The perfect night with the family he’d once been estranged from. 

And it all fell on her shoulders. 

But it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, right? 

She was Rey fucking Johnson, and she’d been through hell and back in her first eighteen years of life. What was a holiday dinner compared to all that? 

Still… all she wanted was to finally feel like a part of this family. Even if she and Ben weren’t married or anything—her stomach flipped at the very thought—his family was the closest she’d ever had to the real thing. Plutt did not count, despite the fact that she lived with him for twelve years. 

The Organa-Solos were kind, welcoming people who had embraced her from the moment she’d accidentally wandered through the background of one of his therapist-instated weekly family video chats. Nevermind that she had clearly been wearing Ben’s oversized t-shirt and no pants at all, they’d let her in immediately. True, they were a bit overbearing at times, but it was a welcome change compared to the distinct neglect she’d faced as a child. 

She wanted this family to like her. Hell, she wanted them to love her. And that meant that tonight had to be perfect.

She immediately began to search the internet for the best latke and brisket recipes she could find. Each one she found differed slightly from the last. Some latkes had lots of flour. Some had some baking powder. Some recipes called for canola oil. Others called for peanut or sunflower oil. And the brisket recipes… that was even worse. The ingredient lists for some of them seem to stretch on forever. 

Rey’s head was starting to spin. 

“I’ve just got to pick one,” she murmured to herself as she kept scrolling past countless blogs that claimed to make these classic dishes just like Bubbe used to. 

She eventually settled ones that had good reviews from random sites. The pictures looked mouth-watering and the ingredient lists seemed manageable. Yes. This would do. 

Grocery list set, Rey decided to focus on giving the house she shared with Ben a good scrubbing. It wasn’t dirty, per se, but it definitely looked like two perpetually-busy people lived there. A small stack of unwashed dishes sat beside the sink and the carpet could use a good vacuuming. 

If her future family was coming over for a visit, then she needed to show them that she could do this. That she could take care of a home like a competent adult who didn’t behave like she’d grown up in squalor. That she deserved to be a part of their family. 

Rey pulled out the rubber gloves Ben purchased for deep cleaning from under the kitchen sink and got to work.

~*~*~*~

By the time the first floor was spotless, Rey was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Lunch time had come and gone and it was going on one o’clock. She gave a half-hearted glance up the stairs to where she knew there was an overflowing laundry bin and a bathroom mirror that could use a good coat of Windex, but there just wasn’t time. She only had four and a half hours to get dinner together. 

A quick sniff at her shirt reminded Rey that she’d need a shower, too. 

But she could shower later. Right now she needed to hit the Super Target down the road. Before grabbing her coat, Rey double-checked her grocery list. There were latke ingredients, brisket ingredients, and broccoli for good measure. She’d also added decorations, though she wasn’t exactly sure what that entailed. 

On the car ride over, Rey put on the Apple Music-curated Hanukkah playlist. Most of it was in Hebrew, but Rey still bobbed her head to the cheerful melodies. She knew most of the lyrics to “I have a little dreidel” at least. 

She’d have time to learn. 

Ben insisted that he hadn’t ever learned Hebrew properly. He said that he’d mostly spaced out during Hebrew school as a kid and had barely passed muster at his own Bar Mitzvah. Rey didn’t necessarily believe him. Although he had blushed spectacularly when his mother insisted he sing the Four Questions at last year’s Passover Seder (“You’re the youngest who knows how!” Leia had insisted), he’d gotten through the whole ordeal without stumbling over any words. 

“Muscle memory,” he’d muttered when he slumped back down on the pillow-laden chair.

Still, Rey had been thoroughly impressed.

Target was, thankfully, not as crowded as she had anticipated. With Christmas still three weeks away, people weren’t frantically shopping at one o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Rey easily found a cart and pushed it toward the grocery section of the store. Within fifteen minutes she found everything she needed. The brisket, itself, was already sitting in her refrigerator. She just needed everything that went with it. 

When the cart was half-full of things for this one meal, Rey headed back to the holiday section in the back corner. She’d grab some quick Hanukkah decor, maybe something classy to please Leia. Or perhaps something kitschy to make Han laugh. Maybe a little of both. She imagined Ben’s family walking into the house she’d painstakingly prepared, enchanted smiles lighting up their faces as they realized just how much love and effort she’d put into everything. 

“Oh, Rey. Welcome to the family!” Leia would cry as she threw her arms around her. “You did such a wonderful job.” 

Rey grinned to herself at the thought and pushed her cart to the back of the store. 

That grin faded a bit when she took a sweeping glance around the glittery, flashing section. There was Christmas decor everywhere. It was bright and festive and in another time, this would have been heaven. This was the kind of scene she dreamed of as a kid who rarely even got a Christmas tree. 

But now she was a woman on a mission. And so far, it looked like Target might not have the perfect Hanukkah decoration section she’d made up in her head. 

Several trips up and down the handful of holiday decoration aisles later, Rey came to the conclusion that there was not a single useful thing among the lot. A glance at her watch told her that she had wasted twenty precious minutes combing the shelves. 

A spotty teenager in a red shirt was able to point her in the right direction: a singular endcap at the front of the store, nowhere near the rest of the decorations. Rey barreled back in the direction she came, hopeful that this would be what she was looking for. 

What she found made her heart sink into her toes. 

The endcap in question was entirely picked over. Where there had once been a limited selection of gift bags, wrapping paper, menorahs, candles, and banners, there was just a half-full display box of chocolate coins. Rey bent her knees and peeked into the depths of the lower shelves just to make sure nothing was tucked back there, hidden from plain view. 

Nothing. 

Nononononono. No. This couldn’t be happening. 

The image she’d conjured before now faded slightly. It was less bright, somehow. 

Still, she thought. It would be okay. Banners, tablecloths, and other festive decorations were overrated. They only needed a menorah. And she could definitely figure that bit out. She was an engineer, for god’s sake. She could rig one of those up. 

With no time to mope, Rey immediately turned around and headed for Target’s small home improvement section. There, she picked out some pre-cut wood, some nuts, and then, on her way back toward the front, a package of birthday candles. On a slightly-panicked whim, she also grabbed some slightly less-offending Christmas decorations and tossed them in the cart. If she had time, maybe she could figure something out with those as well.

It would do. It would have to. 

By now, the anxiety in her stomach had returned in full force. It was now going on two o’clock and she only had three and a half hours before she had a practical horde of Organa-Solos knocking on her door and expecting a lovely dinner. 

She could do this. She had to. 

Rey took deep, measured breaths as she scanned the large bag of russet potatoes and placed them on the bagging area. 

It was all going to be fine. 

After the five minute drive back to the house, Rey got to work assembling the ingredients for the brisket. She placed ingredients in a neat little row as she read each one from the list on her phone. 

Following the directions, Rey set the oven at the right temperature and chopped what needed to be chopped. Then, she unwrapped the massive brisket and unceremoniously plopped it into the roasting pan she’d never used before today. 

Cooking had never been her forte. She’d grown up on a meagre diet of fast food and frozen meals, and so the idea of preparing a meal with fresh ingredients was still relatively new to her. Half of the cooking terms in the recipes she found were words she’d only heard in movies like Ratatouille. Until about two years ago, when she’d started dating Ben, she hadn’t known what it meant to sauté or dice or broil. Hell, she hadn’t even had much experience beyond boiling noodles. 

But Ben… he could cook. He was the one responsible for most of their nicer dinners that didn’t have at least some part coming out of a box. He came from a home that cooked, too. When she’d attended Passover Seder earlier this year, Leia had covered her entire table with beautifully plated dishes, each more succulent than the last. 

Even though she knew it was nearly impossible, Rey wanted to please them. She wanted to inspire confidence in her future in-laws from the moment they walked inside and smelled the delicious meal she’d been cooking. 

With her focus doubled-down, Rey scrolled down to the next portion of the directions. Yes, she had made the marinade. Yes, the brisket was fat-side up in the pan. 

Now she just had to pour the marinade over, cover it with tin foil and roast it for…

Oh, no. 

Four hours. 

A glance at the time told Rey that her in-laws were arriving in three. 

Scrolling further down, Rey prayed that there would be a note on potential shortcuts, but all she found out was that after roasting, she was supposed to let the brisket cool overnight in the refrigerator before cutting and re-heating it in the oven. That apparently was what made the meat so tender. 

Panic welled in her stomach once again. There was no way she’d be able to follow the directions to a tee and have dinner on the table in time for everyone’s arrival. 

She should have known better. Should have triple-checked the recipes. If she’d just looked earlier. Yesterday, even, she’d have been fine. But she had to go and wait until today. 

Cooking… it just wasn’t supposed to take more than a whole day. Cooking, in her experience, was quick and easy and…

Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. 

Rey had half a thought to just throw the towel in and plan to order take-out instead. There was a decent Indian place down the road. Everyone liked Indian food. It would be straightforward and tasty…

...And it would be taking the easy way out.

All her life, everyone had expected her to fail. Again and again, Plutt had told her that she didn’t amount to anything. That she was a nobody. That she would always be a nobody. 

Her life had seemed like a self-fulfilling prophecy. All teachers at school looked at her with pity. So did her social worker. The social worker who left her with a drunk man who neglected her. 

But she’d worked hard. Earned scholarships. And somehow, somehow, she’d gotten into grad school with a manageable amount of debt. 

And then came Ben. 

Ben, who didn’t assume she’d fail. 

Ben, who’d never treated her as less-than. 

Ben, who loved her. Who was the other half of her heart. 

She wouldn’t take the easy way out. She couldn’t. She loved Ben too much to let him down by giving up. 

A renewed fervor coursing through her, Rey stared at the directions again, hoping to find the key to solving her predicament. 

The recipe called for her to roast the brisket for four and a half hours at three hundred and twenty-five degrees. 

What if… what if she raised the temperature? The meat would cook faster. That way, at least, it could be done in time. She might not be able to let it sit overnight, but there’s no way that sitting in a refrigerator for twelve hours would change the taste that much. It wasn’t like refrigerators were magic. 

Mind made up, Rey turned the dial clockwise until the oven was set at four hundred and twenty-five degrees. 

That would do it. For sure. 

Once the brisket was in, she headed out to the garage workshop she’d haphazardly put together last year. It’s where she kept her tools and other tinkering supplies for when she inevitably found an item that deserved a second life. It’s how she’d muddled through high school, repairing broken radios, busted furniture, or out-of-date video game consoles. She used that money to buy lunches, school supplies, and clothes from Goodwill. After years of practice, Rey considered herself a bit of an expert when it came to those sorts of things. 

Ben called in scavenging. Rey called in resourcefulness. 

Now, all that resourcefulness was about to pay off. 

With a few careful swipes of her circular saw, Rey cut the wood that she’d purchased into smaller pieces. She then lined them up neatly along the small base plank, making sure to elevate one of the nine higher than the rest. 

Once the wood was secure, she carefully glued the metal nuts she purchased on top of the cut pieces of wood. The nuts ensured a stable place to set the candles.

All in all, it wasn’t the prettiest menorah around, but Rey had no doubt of its functionality. Perhaps she could paint it when she had more time. But for now, it was enough. When they needed to light candles later tonight, they’d be prepared. 

Satisfied with her handiwork, Rey set the menorah aside and returned to the kitchen. 

By now, the corners of the air were starting to fill with the rich scent of brisket. Rey had to stop herself from doing a little happy dance as she peeled potatoes and onions. She was actually doing it—actually cooking real family dinner. And it hadn’t blown up in her face yet. 

After combining the grated potatoes, onions, eggs, flour, baking powder, salt, and pepper, Rey poured oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet and waited for it to heat. As she watched the needle of  the long, pointed thermometer climb higher and higher, she checked her watch. It was nearly four-thirty, meaning that she only had an hour to fry latkes, shower, get dressed, and decorate. 

She could totally do this. 

Latkes, unfortunately, took longer than Rey anticipated. The first four she put into the pan were still barely yellow when she tried to flip them over. 

Patience. 

“You’ve always been good at waiting,” she murmured when she fought the urge to check on them again. “You can wait for a damn potato pancake to brown.” 

The next batch turned out better than she could have imagined. Crispy and golden brown, the latkes looked perfect. She hopped around the kitchen after she’d nestled them on a serving platter, tucked beneath a clean dish towel to help them stay warm. 

By the time all the latkes had been cooked, she only had thirty minutes left. 

Others might have panicked at this point. But not Rey. She was the master of the three-minute shower. It was how long she’d been allowed to use hot water at Plutt’s. 

“I might actually pull this off.” She smiled into her aquamarine towel as she dried her hair several minutes later. “I can’t believe it.” 

Rey was just pulling a light brown sweater over her head when she heard the telltale sounds of Ben unlocking the front door. 

“I’m home!” His deep voice bounced off the picture-lined walls of their house, not stopping until it reached Rey’s ears. “Rey? Where are you?”

“Up here!” she called, padding out of their bathroom and onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. 

Ben must have followed her voice, because moments later, he trotted up three quarters of the steps, backpack slung still over his back. He leaned over the bannister to kiss her sweetly. She could faintly taste coffee on his lips. Pulling back, she saw slight bags under his eyes. 

“Long day?” 

He nodded, leaning his forehead against her chest. 

“Well fear not. I have everything under control.” 

Ben drew back, chuckling slightly. “I’m impressed, Rey. Big girl’s first Hanukkah and she’s got dinner nailed down.” 

Rey couldn’t help but preen. A mile-wide grin spread across her cheeks and she pressed a kiss to his tousled head. 

His hair smelled like musk, and she breathed the familiar, comforting scent in. Musk and… was that smoke? Musk and smoke…

Ben had never smelled like smoke before. 

Rey’s head snapped up just as the alarm started blaring from the first floor. 

Both she and Ben hurtled toward the kitchen. Bracing herself to have to use the fire extinguisher, Rey leapt down the steps three at a time, her heart in her throat. She had a horrible feeling that it was going to be—

“The brisket!” 

Smoke poured from the oven like water rushing down a stream. 

Coughing, Rey turned the dial to zero and pulled out the brisket while Ben opened all nearby windows. A December chill immediately rushed inside, but Rey hardly noticed. She was too busy staring at her brisket.  

Her perfect, family-winning brisket. 

Which was now a smoking, charred mess. 

The heavenly dish she’d imagined in her head was a far cry from the singed lump of meat that now sat in the signed roasting pan. Once the smoke cleared away, Rey mustered up the courage to cut into it. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was only the outside that was ruined. 

With bated breath and shaking hands, she held the brisket still with a carving fork and sliced through the center with a knife. 

Past the tough, burned top, it was much softer. 

Rey inhaled and cut further.

It was bright red in the middle. 

Raw. 

The inside of the brisket looked as though it hadn’t cooked at all. 

Hot shame welled in her stomach as the voices of nearly every adult from the first two decades of her life whispered confirmation of her failings. 

Why did you think you could do this? 

You’re someone who begs for scraps, not someone who feeds a roomful of people. 

You’ll never be competent around real people—around a real family. 

Stupid. 

She’d been so stupid. Why had she thought she could change the recipe and it would work? She should have been more proactive and made the brisket yesterday. 

Rey felt her face heat up and knew that she was staring at this failure of a dish like a complete idiot. Ben had surely seen her by now, after much of the smoke had cleared. 

Maybe he saw the brisket and decided not to bother with her anymore. He’d probably like a nice girl who could cook. One who wouldn’t fuck things up right before his parents visited. 

The ugly voices’ whispers threatened to grow sharper, but Rey straightened. 

No. 

Ben wouldn’t do that. 

She knew her boyfriend better than that. Ben had seen her at her worst. He knew about her past—was the only one she trusted enough to know all the unsavory details. Not once had he shown her anything but kindness and empathy and love. 

“Oh, Rey. Oh no. I’m so, so sorry. You must be so disappointed.” 

Ben. 

She mustered up a half-smile, though she felt tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. “It’s okay. I mean… at least the latkes are still good. I tried some when I cooked them. See?” She set the carving knife and fork down beside the stove and lifted the dish towel to reveal…

Grey. Soggy. 

“What?” Rey whipped the towel off to look at the huge pile she’d prepared. These were not the latkes she’d made just a bit ago. Those latkes had been crispy and brown. These just looked sad. She picked one up between her thumb and forefinger and watched as it flopped about. 

Ruined. No good. All of it. Everything she had touched today had turned to garbage. The brisket, the latkes, hell, she’d bought birthday candles instead of Hanukkah ones. 

And to make matters worse, she was confident that she heard a car pulling into their driveway. 

Rey gripped the kitchen counter so tight that her knuckles turned white. Her jaw clenched with the effort to hold back the inevitable torrent of tears. 

She’d failed, miserably. There was no way she was ready to be a part of this family. No way they’d accept her now. Not when she couldn’t even cook dinner for them. Leia would see straight through her charade and officially deem her nowhere near good enough to be with Ben. 

This was the thought that broke the dam. 

Rey doubled over with sobs. Her tears spilled onto the counter between the platter of greasy, soggy latkes and the burnt-yet-somehow-still-raw brisket. It was as though she’d stepped into one of her nightmares. 

She couldn’t lose Ben—wouldn't lose him. She’d fight his mother for him if she had to. 

After tonight she’d still have Ben, yes. But would she still have the family she’d coveted for years? That was less clear. 

Just five seconds after she started crying, Ben’s arms were around her. His torso pressed into her back, giving her the kind of physical reassurance she’d spent her whole life craving. Even if Ben didn’t say anything, just the light pressure of body against body reminded Rey that he was there for her. 

“Rey, sweetheart. It’s okay. Please don’t cry.” 

Ben was lovely, but the platitudes only made her cry harder. 

Just as she felt Ben’s hands rub gentle circles into her back, the front door swung open and multiple pairs of boots stepped inside. 

“Benji, we’re here!” 

“Hey kids, where are you?” 

Rey tried to stifle her sobs, but when she covered her mouth with her forearm, her body only shook harder. Ben hugged her even tighter. 

“We’re, uh… in the kitchen,” he called weakly. 

Panic joined the shame in Rey’s body. She had to fix this. Needed to fix this. Ben’s family would be walking into this mess of a kitchen any minute and she had done nothing but fail today. They’d finally see who she really was, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the kind of girl they wanted for their Benji. 

Ben pressed soft kisses into her hair as she continued to shake, muttering reassurances he held her steadfast against his chest. 

That was how Leia and Han found them, and honestly, Rey was past embarrassment. She just wanted to crawl upstairs to bed and pretend like this entire day never happened. 

She had expected them to scoff at the smoking mess and shake their heads at the tears she was shedding over fucking brisket and latkes. It’s what Plutt would have done. And her social worker. And teachers. And peers. And every other person in her life before she met Ben. 

They’d have laughed at her for even trying. 

But the moment Rey heard the telltale click of Leia Organa’s fashionable boots on her linoleum kitchen floor, all those expectations faded. 

“Oh my poor girl,” Leia cried out, dropping whatever had been in her arms. It hit the floor with a soft thump as she surged forward, moving Ben out of the way to wrap her own arms around Rey. 

Rey was immediately enveloped in the soft velvet of Leia’s winter coat and the warm, inviting scent of her perfume. On instinct, Rey buried her face in the woman’s shoulder. Leia might have been a few good inches shorter, but in her arms, Rey felt no bigger than a small child. 

If she had ever imagined what it was like to be hugged by a mother, this would have been what she pictured. 

From somewhere on the other side of the kitchen, she heard a long whistle. 

Han.

“I gotta say, Sunshine, that I’ve seen many ruined dinners in my lifetime but this one might top them all.” 

Rey buried her face deeper in Leia’s shoulder. 

“Han!” the woman snapped. “Be nice.” 

He coughed and Rey could envision the sheepish look on his face as he said in his gruff, endearing voice, “Sorry, kid. You know how I am. I can’t not make jokes at inappropriate times.” 

When Rey had stopped shaking enough to pull away from Leia, she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater and took in the scene before her. Han was still hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, as if waiting for permission to enter further. Ben was just behind her, leaning against the sink. She met his eyes, and without saying anything, he seemed to tell her, “It’s all going to be okay.” 

Where panic had been wriggling inside of her, warmth began to spread in its place. 

Leia wasn’t yelling. No one was. 

Rey didn’t quite understand why, but she was offering a hug instead. 

When she felt steady enough, Rey pulled back from Leia’s arms and tried to muster up a watery smile. “I’m sorry I ruined Hanukkah dinner. I thought I had everything figured out, but I guess I still don’t know my way around a kitchen as well as I should.” 

Leia tilted her head as she held Rey at shoulder’s length. “Rey, dear, there’s no expectation on my end for you to make a perfect meal or be able to cook well. We were just flattered you wanted us to come over at all. After so many years spent without my son, time together with family is a treat, no matter if the food is homemade.” 

“But it’s so bad!” Rey wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as she stabbed the burnt, raw monstrosity with the carving fork and held it up on display. “I feel like such a failure.” 

The words echoed around the kitchen, and Rey watched as Leia and Ben both reached out, presumably to offer more reassurance. They opened their mouths, ready to speak, when another, third voice broke the silence.

“You know, during my first Hanukkah meal with Leia, I wanted to really impress her. Show her that she could depend on me. That I wasn’t gonna be the kind of scoundrel who was going to force her to do all the cooking. So I asked to make part of dinner.” 

“Oh, Han.” Leia was already chuckling, so Rey paused to take in every word. 

“Now, back then, I didn’t know anything about these sorts of holidays or traditions. I grew up like you, Sunshine, without much of a home, so I really didn’t know much of anything when I decided to bring over a Honey Baked Ham for the main course.” 

Rey gasped, but the corners of her lips twitched up, despite herself. Even she knew that was wrong. “You didn’t!” 

Han shook his head and smirked, finally crossing the kitchen to wrap his arms around his wife. “I sure did. This one was so angry and I was so embarrassed that I could hardly string two words together to apologize. I felt just like you do now. A failure. But can I tell you something?” 

One arm still wrapped around Leia, Han reached a hand out and placed it on Rey’s shoulder. His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. 

She nodded. 

“One day, this is going to be a really funny story. I know Ben can’t count the number of times he’s heard about that ham.”  

Ben snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “Way too many, Dad. You used to tell me that story every year.”

Han gestured to Ben by pointing with his thumb. “And it used to make him laugh.” Han shook his head again. “Kids. They grow up. But what can you do? One day, it’ll be you two telling this story to your kids.” 

“Dad!”

“Han!” 

Rey felt heat creep up her cheeks at the insinuation that she and Ben… that the two of them might have a family of their own one day. She couldn’t help the bright grin that spread across her face at the thought of her very own family. One that she’d have with the man who made her feel like she wasn’t alone. 

Looking to her right, Rey saw that although Ben’s ears had turned bright pink at Han’s comment, he seemed to be fighting a big smile, too. 

“They’ll think it’s so funny how you burned the brisket and… are those latkes grey?” Han reached over and poked one of the sad-looking potato pancakes with his fingers. 

“They’re soggy, too,” Rey piped up with a groan. “I don’t know how it happened, honestly. When I cooked them, they were so good. But when I checked on them just a little later, they were like this.” 

“Did you drain out the liquid?” Leia eyed the latkes with suspicion. “Because if not, the potatoes retain all their starch and that’s what makes them grey.” 

The heat in Rey’s cheeks increased. “I… uh, didn’t. I didn’t know I was supposed to do that.” 

Leia waved the mistake off. “Do you know how many synagogue fundraisers and Hanukkah dinners I’ve been to where some very dear friends of mine have made latkes that look far worse than this?” She indicated the platter of pathetic potato pancakes. “Tell you what. Tomorrow, let’s try this again. Come over to our house and I’ll give you the rundown. You can take notes if you like so you can try again when you feel comfortable. How does that sound?” 

Rey nodded vigorously and sniffed as the remainder of her tears finished drying on her face. “Oh, um, yes please. I’m so sorry, I just really wanted to impress you—” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Rey?” Ben interjected this time, stepping up behind her to gently rub her shoulders. “You have me now. And my family. Hell, I think they like you more than me.”

Leia murmured, “I like you both together,” at the same time that Han chuckled, “Yep. Nailed it, kid.” 

Leia shot Han another sharp look. Han merely winked at his son, who rolled his eyes. 

“Right then.” Han clapped his hands together once the food had been dumped and dishes placed in the sink to soak. “Who wants Indian food?” 

~*~*~*~

Cooking with Leia was unlike anything Rey had ever done before. She’d arrived early in the morning to head with her to the butcher to find the best brisket. As they peered through the glass at their different options, Leia patiently explained the qualities of different cuts of meat and what to look for when selecting the perfect brisket. 

With their meat wrapped up in brown paper, they headed back to the house to prepare it. At Leia’s insistence, Rey had brought her thrown-together menorah. She insisted it was clever and well-constructed, and that with a little sprucing up, it could easily become an heirloom. Rey set it on the coffee table in the living room beside the fancy brass one they usually used. 

Before they got to work on the brisket, Leia rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out a rectangular tin. 

“My mother’s recipe box,” she explained as she flipped the lid open. “She died when I was young, shortly before I met Han. Both my parents did. Fire.” Leia tossed in the last word when Rey looked up in alarm. “I don’t have much left of either of them. But I do have this.” 

Leia sorted through the recipes, her fingers flicking past yellowed cardstock with scribbled handwriting peeking out from their depths. 

“My adoptive mother,” she continued as she searched, “was the best cook in the whole neighborhood. Everyone came flocking to our house for food on special occasions. And let me tell you, her Hanukkah dinner was not one to be missed. Ah!” Leia extracted two cards, holding them between her index and middle fingers. 

“Are those them?” Rey asked, caught up in awe. 

“They are. Family secrets, these recipes. Now, should we get to work?” 

Rey watched as Leia worked methodically around her kitchen, preparing ingredients and setting them out in tiny bowls so they’d be ready and waiting for the exact moment they were needed. 

This woman was so meticulous, much like Ben. Rey wasn’t sure she’d ever be up to par. 

But Leia was patient. She let Rey take notes and ask questions as she chopped the ingredients, assembled it all in the roasting pan, and covered it with foil. When it was in the oven and Leia had explained the reasoning behind, “low and slow,” for cooking meat, they cleaned up the kitchen together. Rey was more than happy to take the lead at the sink to do dishes. 

There was a quiet hum about the house as she scrubbed the cutting board mixing bowls they’d used to create the marinade. Leia stood beside her and dried everything with a dish towel that looked like it had seen better days. 

“I’ve had this since I was a teenager,” Leia offered after she must have caught Rey eyeing it during the hand-off of a particularly hard-to-scrub wooden spoon. “My mother insisted that I learn to embroider. That it was a suitable hobby for someone of my… position. But I was awful at it and frankly, I didn’t see the point in it at all. That’s why, well…” 

Leia held up the sopping towel to reveal what she’d embroidered on it years ago. 

“Scruffy-looking nerf-herder? Leia, what on Earth—?” 

She laughed, a rich, hearty sound. “Oh, it was something I used to call Han back when we were much younger. He really was such a scoundrel. Still is. But I always found that after we fought, I liked to sit and embroider. It was almost as though I could feel my mother offering me advice with every stitch. And when I knitted this particularly lovely creation—” Leia flourished the towel. “—it was like having her at my side again, listening to me complain about Han and helping me through all the stages of life she was going to miss.” 

Leia stared at the towel with fondness in her eyes. 

“But I still hated every second of it as well as what it represented. That’s why it looks like… this.” She gestured to the poor shoddy needlework. 

Rey chuckled as she rinsed out the sink. “It’s nice that you have something with such a strong connection to both Han and your mother. I wish I had something like that.” 

Wincing, she hoped Leia hadn’t heard the last bit. The last thing she wanted was pity. 

“You know, I don’t view your upbringing as some sort of red flag or misfortune to be pitied.” 

Rey’s head snapped up from the sink. How could she have possibly known? 

“Wild guess.” Leia ran the towel under the faucet and wrung it out. “I saw how much last night’s dinner mattered to you and… based on what Ben’s told us, which isn’t much, I can understand why you wanted it to work out.” 

Rey’s lips twitched into a smile that only lasted a moment. She sighed and looked determinedly out the window once she gathered the courage to speak. “I… told you that I wanted to impress you. And that’s partly true. But saying what I really wanted… it feels childish. Embarrassing.” 

When she felt Leia’s gaze linger on her back, she felt the prickling of shame start to take root once more. 

“Rey, you never have anything to be embarrassed about in front of me. When I say I’ve seen it all, I really do mean it. You want what you want and need what you need. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

The shame didn’t go away completely at these words, but it did pause. 

Perhaps, besides Ben, there was someone she could depend on. Perhaps, that wouldn't be so bad. 

“I… never had anyone to show me how to cook,” Rey explained in hushed tones, turning away from the window. “Most of my life was spent eating instant noodles or fast food. And that was…” Rey paused. She hated sharing this part of her life. The pity… People always got this look in their eyes when she talked about her past. And her knees were practically knocking at the thought of Leia looking at her like that. 

But Leia had raised Ben. Had helped make him into the man who loved her unconditionally. Maybe, just maybe, this relationship could be similar. 

Rey took a deep breath and pushed on. “And that was when I had enough food. I went hungry a lot as a kid. I had to work for my keep in some places, and that’s hard to do when you’re five. It wasn’t until I started dating Ben that I used anything in a kitchen other than a microwave.” 

Rey paused and waited for Leia to react, but when it became clear that she was waiting until the end of the story to say something, Rey kept talking. “I’ve started getting better, honestly. I feel okay using the stove and the oven a little. And in all likelihood, I shouldn’t have said yes to cooking Hanukkah dinner because, I mean, who was I kidding? But I just… I wanted to feel more connected to you. To this family. And in the process, I ruined a fifty-dollar cut of meat.” 

“And potatoes, Rey. Don’t forget that sack full of potatoes.” 

Leia winked. Rey groaned. 

“You know,” Leia whispered as she crossed the kitchen toward where the tin sat. “those recipes are family secrets.” 

“That’s what you said.” 

“Family secrets, Rey.” 

Leia’s gaze lifted from the box of recipes up to Rey. The look in her eyes was so intentional that Rey was sure she was trying to tell her something. 

Family secrets.

Family secrets. 

Leia’s eyes twinkled as the corners of her lips drew upwards into a telling smile. 

A family. 

A lump grew in Rey’s throat as the implications of Leia’s words washed over her. History told Rey not to dare to hope. That this was too good to be true. But this wasn’t her childhood anymore. This was a new life—one that she’d made for herself. The life where Ben found her or, rather, she found him. And now…

Family. 

“Oh,” she breathed. 

Leia gave a knowing nod as she walked back toward Rey and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You should know by now that I like you, Rey. Han does, too. That’s not something you need to worry about. Burnt brisket and all.” 

Rey wasn’t sure what to say, so she just nodded as the lump in her throat grew larger.

“You also bring out the best in my Benji. And for that, I will always be grateful. The two of you have a connection like I’ve never seen before.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, Rey found her voice again. “Ben… he’s my everything. He always believes in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. I try to do the same for him.” 

Just then, the front door opened and Ben and Han’s voices rumbled across the threshold. 

Leia’s eyes flicked to the direction of the sound before landing back on Rey. Her smile grew wider. “Well that’s good to hear. Because he asked for the sapphire from my mother’s engagement ring nearly three months ago.” 

Leia made the announcement so casually, she might have been discussing the weather. It took a few moments for the words to sink in. Ben and Han’s voices drew closer.

“Your mother’s—” Rey lowered her voice to a sharp whisper “—sapphire?” 

“Like I said, Rey. It’s a family recipe.” 

The full weight of Leia’s words washed over her as the first delicate aromas of cooking brisket wafted in through the kitchen. Seconds later, the Solo men came through the doorway, sharing the kind of laugh that would have been impossible in years past. 

Rey caught Ben’s eye as Han greeted Leia with a sound kiss. She felt a soft, warm heat bloom on her cheeks as Leia’s words danced in the back of her mind. 

He’d asked for his grandmother’s sapphire. 

“Are you okay?” he asked once they settled down in the living room to watch a movie while the brisket cooked. Rey cuddled into Ben’s side on the couch. Han and Leia were arguing over movie choices on Ben’s other side. 

Soon, this whole house would be filled with the smells of delicious food. In a few hours, Leia would show her how to make crispy, perfect latkes. It somehow felt like an initiation of sorts. Only… she was already a part of this stubborn, headstrong, loving group of Organa-Solos. 

It was all Rey had ever wanted and somehow, miraculously, this life—this family, was hers now. 

From the other side of the couch, Leia leaned forward and offered a sly wink as Han begrudgingly selected Pride and Prejudice from the Netflix queue. 

She cuddled deeper into Ben’s side. “I’ve never been better.”