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Chapter Text

Enforced Downtime 

To:  All Alliance Personnel

From The Desk of General Jan Dodonna

It has come to the attention of certain members of High Command that there is a high level of unused energy being expended on unnecessary pranks and high jinks among the rank and file, as well as certain independent contractors.

Therefore, it has been decreed that, in order to alleviate this energy in a more appropriate manner, there will be mandatory classes required among the pilots and maintenance crews, which shall take place under the watchful and expert care of our base psychologist, Dr. Renzati.

Dr. Renzati has given a list of these various and interesting classes.  To repeat - ALL pilots and maintenance crews are REQUIRED to sign up for ONE of these classes.  Each class shall consist of no more than ten participants, and shall be attended a minimum of twice a week, for two hours per session.  

Alliance members shall sign up for the course of their choice within three standard days.  

List of Classes -

Knitting

Needlepoint

Cubic Dancing

Ball Room Dancing

Tap Dancing

Fencing - This item has been removed after deliberation among members of Command, due to the possibility of loss of eyesight.  Vision has been deemed rather important to the future success of the Rebellion.

Ascetic Meditation

Paint by Numbers

Loom Weaving

Poetry Composition

Please decide which class you would enjoy attending and sign up quickly!  Since each class is limited to ten participants, it will be first come, first served!

Sincerely,

Jan Dodonna  (and the other Members of the High Command, who have chosen not to be named on this Order, for some reason.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Two - Signing Up

Two and a half days later...

"This isn't fair!" Wes Janson yelled out loudly in the cafeteria, waving his datapad around over his head. "Why just pilots and maintenance? Why not Communications? Why not Code Breakers? Why not Supply and Food Staff? Why are WE the ONLY ones required to attend these kriffing classes?!"

"Maybe 'cuz you're the reason to start with," Luke said, shoving a bit of a dry pastry into his mouth. "He did say this was because of pranks."

"I can't help it," Wes said.  "It's not my fault Dustenrubble is such a boring, dull, lifeless hellhole."

"Luke's got a point, Janson," Wedge Antilles mumbled unhappily, looking at the list. "I hate all this kest."

"Meditation doesn't sound so bad," Luke said, pointing at his own datapad. "I might sign up for that one."

"You can't," Hobbie Klivian stated firmly. "We're all signing up for the same class."

"Says who?" Dak Ralter demanded hotly. "What makes you think I want to Cubic Dance with you of all people?"

"Would you rather Ball Room dance with me?" Hobbie shot back, batting his eyes at Dak for dramatic purposes.

Luke turned toward an uncharacteristically quiet Han Solo. "What do you think, Han? What course are you going to sign up for?"

Han's eyes widened and he pointed at his chest. "ME? What in the Nine Hells makes you think I'm gonna sign up for any of that stupid, waste of time garbage?"

"You're a pilot," Luke pointed at the datapad. "It says, 'All Pilots'."

"Yeah, pick something, Solo," Janson prodded, a gleeful gleam in his eye. "I want to see you tap dance. Or needlepoint something."

"I could stick a needle in your eyeball, Janson," Han said, shaking his head. "Don't even need one of those skinny swords to blind you."

"They're called epees," Dak informed Han.

"Upee yours," Han responded blithely.

Chewbacca, sitting across the table with his partner, spoke up, *I'd like to Loom Weave.*

"You already know how to do that," Han replied with a sigh. "Anyway, I ain't enlisted. They can't make me do anything I don't want to. See, Kid? This is why I'll never officially join the Rebellion. It's stupid shit orders like this coming down from High Command Morons. Without fail, once beings get power and control it goes straight to their egos and turns 'em into brainless tyrants."

"Are you calling me a moron, Captain?" a refined voice said from over Han's shoulder. "Or a brainless tyrant?"

Solo twisted in his seat to gaze up at a very annoyed looking Princess. "I dunno. Were you part of this stupidity?"

"It wasn't my idea, if that's what you're asking," Leia said haughtily. "But when Dr. Renzatl agreed with Jan that it was a good idea to give everyone a creative outlet, I went along with it. And it wouldn't hurt you to participate."

"Not a chance, Sweetheart."

*I'd like to sign up for Weaving,* Chewie woofed out.

"You already know how to weave!" Han argued, once again pointing out the obvious to his friend.

Leia looked down at her datapad. "You're in luck, Chewie. One more place is available in the Loom Weaving Class. Would you like to fill it?"

*YES!*

"Oh, brother..." Han muttered, putting his head in his hands and groaning.

"Anyway, as Dr. Renzatl pointed out to me earlier, you only have twelve hours left to sign up, and since this is the ONLY group that has failed to do so, I was asked to get this finished." Leia gazed over at Luke. "What would you like to sign up for, Luke?"

"Meditation?" Luke requested, ignoring the other pilots' protests.

Leia glanced down at her datapad. "Sorry. It's filled."

Luke shrugged as he looked at his own list. "Uh, knitting?"

"Filled."

"Tap dancing?"

"TAP DANCING?" Wedge shouted in disgust as he stood up, nearly spilling his beverage. "Are you crazy?"

"Doesn't matter," Leia stated. "Filled."

"I'm going with needlepoint," Dak decided, nodding at his list.

"Sorry. Filled."

"So, just outta curiosity, Your Highnessness," Han drawled, "What class isn't filled?"

"Paint by Numbers.  Nobody has signed up for that class.” She looked over at the group. "Should I sign you all up for that one? I see that Zev Senesca isn't here right now, but he hasn't signed up for anything yet, either. It's amazing how it's just the Rogue Squadron being bantha heads about this."

"Sure," Wedge said, sounding defeated as he plopped back in his seat. "Sign us all up for Paint by Numbers. That sounds swell, doesn't it guys?"

"Wonderful," muttered Dak.

"Couldn't be happier," complained Hobbie.

"What's Paint by Numbers?" asked Luke.

"That's great!" Leia exclaimed, ignoring Luke's question and busily typing on her datapad. That's six participants for Paint by Numbers."

"But it's all guys!" Wes pointed out. "Why can't we have a class with some females participating? I don't know why co-ed wrestling wasn't a choice, anyway. I woulda signed up right away for that one."

"What class have you signed up for, Sweetheart?" Han asked, grinning at Leia.

"Since I'm not a pilot or maintenance worker, participation is voluntary," Leia replied testily. "However, I'll make a deal with you, Solo. If you sign up for the Paint by Numbers,  I will too."

"No kriffin' way," Han responded, shaking his head. "I got better things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like..." Han hesitated. "Like polish my boots. Or count rivets in the hull of the Falcon. Clean Wookiee hair out of the shower drain. Pretty much anything else."

"How about we make a bet, and if I win, you sign up and actually attend?" Leia goaded the Corellian.

"What kinda bet? And what do I get if you lose an' I win?" Han leered. Leia paused for a moment, thinking, so Han couldn't help adding with a wink, "I can come up with something real fun if you can't."

"I'll polish your boots and clean the Wookiee hair out of your shower drain."

"How many weeks does this class drag on for?" Han questioned.

"Ten."

"Then ya gotta polish my boots and clean the Wookiee hair ten times. Seems fair to me."

"Fine. It's a bet."

"But what kind of bet are we talking about?" Wes asked.

"And what's Paint by Numbers?" Luke added.

Chapter Text

A few hours later...

Doctor Albrina Renzatl, walking alongside General Rieekan, stopped a distracted Leia in the hallway, putting a hand gently on her arm. "Leia, how are you doing? You were about to pass us by without even saying hello."

"I'm fine," Leia replied hastily, embarrassed at her lack of acknowledgment. "I'm sorry for being a bit preoccupied. I have a lot on my mind."

The doctor smiled. "I noticed you signed up for the Paint by Numbers class. You're not required to attend these, you know."

"Oh, I know. It sounded fun."

"I see." The perplexed doctor looked down at her datapad. "It's you and six Rogue pilots. And Captain Solo?" She looked up at Leia in surprise. "The smugg... er...Contractor? I am quite surprised he would sign up for any of these classes."

"Well," Leia hedged, clearing her throat and shifting a bit on her feet. "He said he would, but with stipulations. I went ahead and put his name down, just to make certain he has a place in the class before it fills up."

"It's unlikely to fill up," Dr. Renzatl stated. "Everyone that's required to attend a class has committed. And what do you mean by 'stipulations'?"

Leia sighed. "He said he'd go if I won a bet. So, since I figured I'm going to win, I filled in his name beforehand."

"Bet? What sort of bet?" General Rieekan spoke up, concerned.

"I don't know yet," Leia admitted, feeling her face flush. "I was thinking maybe playing a game of sabacc with him. I've gotten good at that game."

"But isn't he quite skilled at sabacc?" asked Rieekan, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"Probably. I'd have to have a bit of luck on my side." Leia pursed her lips. "Maybe billiards."

"Solo doesn't know how to play billiards?"

"He cleared the table and took out every single one of the Rogues one night when I was watching them play. He's quite the billi-shark." Leia frowned. "So maybe not billiards, either. I suppose have to think about this."

"You probably should have thought about it prior to making this bet," Rieekan said, shaking his head. "What happens if you lose?"

"I have to clean his shower drain and polish his boots. Ten times."

"Leia!" the doctor admonished. "Whatever were you thinking?"

"I don't know," Leia replied, sounding a bit distressed. "At the time, I was thinking it would be fun to see Solo suffer through a painting class."

Dr. Renzatl smiled knowingly toward an exasperated General Rieekan, while thinking that this might have more to do with Leia's desire to be in Captain Solo's company for a few more hours a week, but she didn't verbalize that thought out loud. "What skill games are you good at, Leia?"

Leia's face broke into a huge grin. "Minutiae Flash! I kill at that game! Remember it? You have the computer give you random questions, about anything from politics to planetary geography to entertainment? And then you have ten seconds to answer before your time is up, and then the other person has a chance to reply if you couldn't. I never lost at that game." Leia threw her arms around the surprised doctor, giving her a brief hug. "Thanks for the idea. I'll go tell Han right now what our game will be... Minutiae Flash."

"That sounds like a good choice, I suppose," Dr. Renzatl said. "I was going to ask you to lead the Cubic Dancing class for me, but since you're already signed up for the Paint by Numbers, I don't suppose you'll agree to head that one?"

"You're not interested?" Leia asked, sounding surprised.

The doctor smiled. "I can't be in charge of all of them. General Rieekan has agreed to do the Ball Room Dance class."

"Really?" Leia looked over at Carlist Rieekan, who was suddenly blushing with embarrassment.

"Admiral Ackbar is heading the Meditation and Poetry classes," he said quickly, trying to distract the Princess from his new role.

"General Dodonna has agreed to lead the Needlepoint and Weaving class," Dr. Renzatl added. "He was quite reluctant to do so, but since this was his idea..."

"And when I suggested the tap dancing he conceded to those other two quite quickly," Rieekan said, grinning.

"I was hoping to only have to do one dance class," the doctor said, sighing. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Let me see who's taking the Cubic Dance class," Leia said, scrolling down her list. "Col Serra. I wonder if he'd agree to move to the Paint by Numbers class. That would open up a position, plus the Painting class isn't even full anyway."

"Open up a position?" the doctor asked, confused. "You would be in charge of the class, not one of the attendees."

"I know," Leia said, getting a wicked grin on her face. "Maybe I can make this bet even more interesting. Since other Command leaders are taking on two classes, I could do both the Cubic Dance class and the Painting class, correct?"

"Of course."

Leia smiled at Rieekan. "Then I'll do both. I just have to get a certain Corellian to agree to alter our bet... ever so slightly."

"You want Solo to take both classes?" the General asked, surprised at Leia's thought process. "He'll never agree to do that."

"Don't bet on it!" Leia shouted over her shoulder as she hurried away.

General Rieekan sighed and stated, "I knew this was a bad idea. I told Jan this was a bad idea. He always thinks he's right no matter what. Well, I wonder what he's going to think about Solo and the Princess being in the same two classes for ten weeks?"

"Maybe Leia won't be able to get Solo to go along with this," Dr. Renzatl said, although she didn't sound in the least bit convincing. Both older humans could only stand there and wonder what they had gotten themselves into by agreeing to go along with General Dodonna’s plan.

Onboard the Falcon, an hour later...

"Well, I've decided on how our bet will be decided, and I'm quite positive you'll never, ever beat me," Leia declared, looking down at the top of the Corellian's head, who was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corridor, wearing goggles and welding a seam in a floor panel.  It had been fairly easy to convince Col Serra to move to the Paint by Numbers class, especially after Leia bribed him with a bottle of Whyren's Reserve.  She just had to figure out a way to sneak a bottle out of Han's stash when he wasn't looking.

"Yeah?" Han replied, turning off the torch and spinning around on his rear to face toward the Princess. "Sure about that, huh?" He took off the goggles, making his unruly hair stick out in all directions.

Leia resisted the urge to reach down and smooth the ruffled locks of shaggy brown hair back into place. I'll bet his hair is soft... wait! Where did THAT thought come from!   Instead she took a deep breath, trying to keep her focus. "Absolutely, positively sure. In fact, I'm so sure, I'm even willing to increase our bet." She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. "If you have the nerve to increase it, Flyboy."

"Uh, okay," Han said warily, getting to his feet. "What's this new bet gonna be?"

"If I win, you have to take two classes. The Painting class... AND the Cubic Dance class," Leia declared triumphantly.

"Cubic Dance?" Han frowned, "Isn't that where everyone gets in a big circle or... err,,, square, I suppose, and shuffles around and around in time to really stupid music?"

"Yes."

"Are there gonna be five ladies for five guys in this class? I ain't dancin' with a guy."

"I know that Hera Syndulla is taking the Cubic Dance class."

"That's ONE, Sweetheart. Four more to go."

"I'm a lady!"

"Ok, fine. With you, that's two. Who else?"

Leia gave an exasperated groan, and scrolled down the list of names taking the class. "Both Kes and Shara Dameron are in this class. That's three women."

"Shara don't count. She's married to Kes. Keep going."

"Sabine Wren."

"And?"

"That's all the females in this class, Han."

"So, six guys to four ladies?"

Frustrated, Leia snapped, "I'll be sure to partner up with you. How's that? Then the other four guys can fight over Sabine and Hera, since Kes and Shara will be partners, obviously."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Leia felt a bit giddy, never believing it would be this easy to convince Han to take a second class, and a dance class at that.

"Okay. But when you lose, and I don't have to take either one of those idiotic classes, what do I get? An' cleaning my boots and the shower drain don't cut it, Princess. It's gotta be something a lot better than that."

So there was a catch ... he was already thinking ahead to how he could humiliate her in front of everyone on Base. "What do you want in the unlikely event I should lose?"

Han towered over the rather diminutive Princess and grinned down at her. "A date. One, long date. It's gotta be a real, honest-to-stars date. For an entire morning, afternoon and evening. We fly off this rock, to a real fun place, which I get to pick by the way, and then you go with me to breakfast, then have lunch, then some fun thing I figure out to do in the afternoon, and then we have a nice dinner, and then we go to a holo-show to top it all off.  I get to pick everything we do all day."  He stopped for a second, stroking his chin in thought.  "And this date has to end with a kiss.  A real, long kiss.  On the lips."

Putting her hands on her hips, Leia glared up at Han.   She suddenly felt a bit light-headed as she imagined going on this 'date' and the possible ending.   But she wasn't about to let Han know he was causing her to doubt her own plans, so she said, "Who is going to pay for all this fun and food?"

"I'll pay."

Leia looked dubious at that declaration. "I'd have to make arrangements about leaving the Base.  Unlike you, I can't get up one morning and take off on a whim."

"I can wait... for a little while, anyway."

"Fine."

"Fine. How are we deciding the winner?"

"We play a game."

Han gave a wide grin. "Sabacc?"

"No, Han. I told you I was going to win this. The game is called Minutiae Flash."

"I never heard of it."

"It's a game of trivia knowledge. A computer asks you general knowledge questions, things like government and planetary exports and various entertainers and holo-shows that have won awards, and you have ten seconds to answer. If you can't ... or don't, answer, then the other person gets to respond. The first person to get eleven points out of twenty questions correct, wins."

Han's face fell, and he looked... disappointed. "Well, kriff."

Chapter Text

Han glared at Luke and Chewie as he sat down. "Why do you two have to be here?"

"I asked them to come," Leia said, sitting down opposite Han at the dejarik table.

"Witnesses," Luke said brightly. "If Leia wins - "

"When Leia wins," Leia put in, much to Chewie's amusement.

"Yeah, when she wins," Luke continued, "she doesn't want you denying what happened and back out of your classes." He paused for a moment, then grinned. "Two classes. I'm impressed, Han. You're the only Alliance member that's taking two courses, other than the teachers that are conducting the classes, like Leia's doing."

"I'm only conducting the Cubic Dance class," Leia stated as she continued to set up a small, round computer module in the center of the table, connecting it to speakers on both sides. "I'm just a participant in the Paint by Numbers class. Dr. Renzatl is leading that class."

"I ain't a member of the Alliance," Han protested Luke's description. ""Sides, I won't be taking any stupid classes, 'cuz I'm gonna win this bet thing."

The young Tatooine native's face morphed into a frown. "No one still will tell me what Paint by Numbers actually is. I'm not sure anyone knows."

"You paint a canvas that already has a drawing sketched on it, and there are little, various size spaces with numbers. You are also given a set of colored paint, which has those same numbers on the containers. You put the same number paint on the canvas inside the corresponding number on the canvas. It's easy," Leia explained to the young man.

"Oh," Luke said, nodding. "That sounds like fun."

"Sounds like Level Two of the Nine Levels of Hell to me," Han complained.

*At least it's not Level Nine," Chewie put in with a toothy grin.

"What did Chewie say?" Luke asked.

"He'd rather eat the paint than put it on the canvas," Han supplied, less than helpfully.

*I DID NOT!*

Han ignored his partner, nodding at the computer. "So, who goes first."

"I'll let you go first, Han," Leia said sweetly. "It will be your one and only chance to actually be ahead in this game. The questions get harder as the game continues."

"Threepio probably could have done the same thing, without using this computer," Luke stated, pointing toward the game console.

"Do you really want me to blast Goldenrod into a pile of scrap?" Han shot back. "If I had to listen to his babbling all afternoon, that'd be sure to happen."

"No."

"Didn't think so," Han mumbled, tapping the green button located at the top of the unit.

The chipper voice of the computer immediately started speaking, "What is the name of the largest city located on the planet of Tatooine?"

"OH!" Luke shouted, bending closer to the unit. "I know that one! Mos Eisley!"

"Correct. That is one point for contestant one."

"Thanks, Kid."

*That's cheating!* Chewie roared. *Han was supposed to answer!*

"I knew it anyway," Han argued.

Leia sighed. "I'll give that point to you, Captain." She glared at Luke, pointing a finger at him. "You keep quiet from now on.  Got it?"

"Yeah," Luke said sheepishly. "Sorry."

The Princess pressed the button to get her question. "The Naboo System is located in which Sector?"

"Chommel!" she declared, looking smugly over at Solo.

"Correct. One point for contestant two."

"These questions are easy," Han said, shaking his head. "I'm gonna win, for sure."

"I doubt it."

Sighing, Han pressed the button. "How many senators were in attendance at any one time during the rule of the Galactic Republic?"

"Uh…." Han stuttered.  Knowing his time was limited he quickly guessed, "Five thousand?"

"Incorrect. Contest two?"

"One thousand and twenty four senators can attend a single session."

"Correct. Two points for contestant two, one point for contestant one."

Leia smiled sweetly at Han, who scowled back at her. "That's not fair," Han griped. "Of course you'd know that. You were in the senate!"

"I can't help it. These questions are totally random."

"I'll bet."

"Are you accusing me of cheating by programming the questions beforehand?" Leia spluttered out indignantly.

"Could be."

"Leia wouldn't do that!" Luke protested hotly.

*I could see YOU doing that, Cub, but not her,* Chewie agreed. *You apologize to Little Princess immediately!*

"What did Chewie say?" Luke asked, glaring at Han.

"This game is rigged and Her Highnessness should forfeit."

*I DID NOT!*

"It's my turn, anyway," Leia snapped out, her eyes shooting daggers at the annoying Corellian. Any thoughts of throwing the game so she could go on this fantasy date with Solo flew out the airlock. Leia suddenly wanted to win. Not just win, but crush her opponent.

"In the sabacc game of Corellian Spike, the target number to win the game is what?"

"Twenty-three!" Leia answered immediately. Then, suddenly looking mortified, slapped her hand across her mouth.

"Incorrect. Contestant one?"

"Zero," Han answered, giving Leia his best cocky grin.

"Correct. Two points for contestant one. Two points for contestant two."

"I knew that!" Leia hissed. "I just answered the question before I thought about it."

"Too bad," Han replied, shrugging. "Wrong is wrong. This game ain't as hard as I thought it'd be. In fact, I kinda like it."

A short while later…..

"Correct. Contestant two now has ten points. Contestant one has seven points," the small computer said cheerfully.

"I hate this game," Han grumbled, glaring at the unit like it was somehow at fault he was behind by three points. Leia hadn't been lying and the questions had gotten harder as the game progressed.

"One more point and I win," Leia crowed.

"I'm aware of that!"

*I still can't believe you missed a question about Corellia,* Chewie woofed at his partner.

"I was never read bedtime stories growing up! How was I supposed to know some crazy parents liked to scare the Sith-spit outta their dumb kids with stories about a ghost named Lord Nyax?"

"I knew it," Leia said with a giggle. "And I'm not even Corellian."

"That's your misfortune," Han snapped back before slapping the button on the computer for the next, and possibly last, question.

"What three challenges does the Heir Apparent to Alderaan's Monarchy have to complete in order to ascend to the Throne?"

Everyone on the ship grew quiet, and Leia's face went pale as the seconds ticked by. "Sorry, your time is up, contestant one. Do you have the answer, contestant two?"

"Heart, Mind, Body," Leia whispered quietly.

"Correct. Contestant two has eleven points and is the winner of this game. Congratulations, contestant two!"

Leia rose from her seat and hurried toward the cockpit while Chewie and the men sat in stunned silence.

"I don't think Leia would have deliberately programmed that question into the computer," Luke said softly after a few, more uncomfortable seconds.

"Really? Ya think? I was teasin' her about that, anyway," Han snapped out as he stood up. "I'm gonna go talk to her."

*Maybe leave her be alone for a while?* Chewie suggested.

Han shook his head, then grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses before heading out of the hold.

Chapter Text

Leia was sitting on Chewie's chair inside the cockpit, thinking about Alderaan and staring out of the viewport at the bustling Rebel base, which had been set up inside the huge caverns running under this moon's hot, but survivable surface. Despite Wes Janson's proclamation, the moon was not actually named 'Dustenrubble'. It was officially called 89462, one of three moons circling the airless planet designated as 89460. Located in the Mid-Rim, neither the planet nor the moons held any gems or minerals that interested the Empire or any independent fortune hunter.

The moon was actually an ideal location for the Rebels. It had gravity and breathable oxygen, even though the surface area was rocky and almost lifeless. A few scraggly trees and shrubs attempted to thrive, despite the heat and minimal rainfall.

The caverns, however, were large; large enough to hold numerous X-Wings and various sized freighters, and they were also interconnected by tunnels with seemingly endless rooms of various heights and widths. The temperatures down here were actually much cooler than the surface of the moon. Cool enough, in fact, that most humans required a light jacket of some type in order to be comfortable. There was also a surprising amount of drinkable water in these caves, so this moon had turned out to be great choice for a hidden rebel base.

The Millennium Falcon sat safely inside this large cavern, and the only concern Solo had voiced was the huge stalactites hanging overhead. If one did happen to fall, it would crush anything it hit, from a ship to a sentient. This fact was somewhat of a concern, but Leia and the rest of the Command had decided that the stalactites had been hanging in these caves for thousands, or perhaps millions, of years. The odds of one falling right now were slim. They hoped so, anyway. No one asked Threepio to tell them the odds, however.

She wasn't too surprised to hear Han enter the cockpit and plop down in his seat. He held up the two drinking glasses and waved an unopened bottle of whiskey in her direction. "I don't like to drink alone."

"Chewie and Luke are still back in the hold."

Han placed the whiskey and the glasses on the console, then scratched his head. "I think Chewie's sorta annoyed at me for my liberal interpretations of his comments."

"Liberal?" Leia questioned, raising an eyebrow as she swung her seat to face Han. "Or totally fictitious?"

Han grinned. "Got me there."

"You don't have to take either class, Han," Leia said after a moment of contemplation. "I know you don't want to, and I'm not going to force you to do something you'd hate, either."

"You won, fair and square. I always keep my end when I lose a bet."

"Really? Always?"

"Most of the time," Han conceded, chuckling. "'Sides, if I'm not there, who's gonna keep you safe from all those groping hands?"

"In a painting class?"

"Nah, the dance class. I've heard rumors about Kes."

This actually made the Princess laugh, which was Han's intention when he'd followed her. "I'm guessing you just don't want to miss out on all the gossip that the Rogues will be engaging in during the painting class."

Han shrugged. "Prob'ly. Do you not want me to participate?"

"Of course I want you there."

Her confession made the Corellian feel strangely pleased. "I won't be able to go to all the classes, ya know. I got supply runs lined up."

"I know that," Leia said. "Command is not expecting anyone to miss an assignment because of this. Work first, fun second."

"Fun, huh?"

"It will be fun," Leia insisted.

"If you say so," Han replied dubiously. "But what if I'm gone a lot and I can't get my painting finished before the ten weeks is up?"

"You can take it with you, and finish it on the Falcon." When she noticed his expression of disdain, she reached over and patted his wrist. "I'm sure Chewie won't leave his weaving project unfinished."

Knowing Leia was correct in that assumption, Han held up the whiskey. "Wanna have a toast to Paint by Numbers and Cubic Dancing?"

"Is that an unopened bottle of Whyren's Reserve?"

Puzzled, Han turned the bottle slightly in her direction so she could read the label. "Nice an' fresh. Doesn't even have any of my backwash sloshing around inside."

"Can I have it?" Without waiting for a response, Leia quickly snatched it out of Han's grasp. "I've really developed a taste for Corellian whiskey lately." She stood up, trying to ignore the look of astonishment on Han's face as she tucked it into her vest. Still, taking the bottle this way was going to be easier and cause her less guilt than outright stealing it from his supply. Col Serra was going to be very pleased, and Leia truly hoped he never told Han who gave him a bottle of Corellia's finest.

"The entire bottle?" Han spluttered out. "You want the entire bottle? I only have one left in my supplies."

"You can get more during your next run," Leia informed him. "You're scheduled to go to Talus for a food shipment in a week, and since that's in the Corellian system, they'll have lots of your booze in stock."

"Uh, okay," Han mumbled, looking somewhat concerned. "I hope I haven't accidentally turned you into a wino, Princess."

"That's not possible. Winos drink wine. This is whiskey."

"A wisky-o, then?"

Leia leaned down and kissed the top of Han's head. "The Minutiae Flash game was fun, and you did very well. I'm glad you're going to be a good sport and attend the classes." She pointed at the bottle stuck inside her vest as she left the cockpit. "Thanks a million, Han."

Three days later

Dr. Renzatl stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the six Rogue pilots, Princess Leia, Han Solo and Col Serra. Each person was sitting on a tall stool, and also had an easel set up in front of them. With the exception of Leia, none of them looked particularly happy to be there.

"Let's go around the room and introduce ourselves to the class," Dr. Renzatl said pleasantly, hoping to break the icy veneer of the men.

"We already know each other," Janson grumbled, gazing around the room.

"Still, humor me? Leia, can you start? And maybe a brief background?"

"Sure," Leia said, sliding off her stool. "My name is Leia Organa. I'm the daughter of Breha and Bail Organa." Not wanting to say anything further about her former homeworld, she quickly sat back down.

The doctor pointed at Han, who was at Leia's left. "Next?"

Without bothering to stand, Han stated, "Han Solo, Captain of the Millennium Falcon, and the best pilot in the galaxy. And the best shot with a blaster, too."

This was met with snickers from various members of the Rogue Squadron, which earned them a glare from the Corellian.

"Let's move on," Dr. Renzatl said to the pilot on Han's left.

"Wedge Antilles, Leader of the Rogue Squadron, and the best pilot to ever come out of Corellia."

"Second best," Han muttered, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

The doctor sighed, hoping the first day wouldn't result in a brawl. "Moving on?"

"Wes Janson," Wes said, standing up and bowing toward the doctor. "From the planet of Taanab. In another life, I would have been a famous stand-up comedian, but thanks to the Empire, I have to live in hovels and eat army rations." He sat back down, grinning.

"Hobbie Klivian," the next pilot said. "I'm from Ralltiir. Don't call me Derek or I'll have to blast you."

"I see," said Dr. Renzatl. "We'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"Dak Ralter," said the next sullen pilot. "I'm from Kalist IV, which reminds me a lot of this moon, and I'd rather be there than in this class right now."

"Next?"

"My name is Zev Senesca, and I used to hunt starwhales." The pilot immediately sat back down, not bothering to tell everyone the name of his homeworld.

An older, tall, bearded man with an eye patch stood up. "Col Serra at your service, ma'am. I used to be a smuggler before Solo roped me into joining the Rebellion. Now I'm leading the Renegade Squadron and gone totally legit. Meanwhile Solo here is still smuggling. Life is strange."

"And the last member…" Dr. Renzatl said, pointing toward Luke.

Luke jumped enthusiastically out of his seat. "My name is Luke Skywalker, and I'm from Tatooine. I used to help my aunt and uncle - their names were Beru and Owen Lars - run a moisture farm near Anchorhead. I also used to shoot womp rats in Beggar's Canyon, and sometimes we had run-in's with Tusken  Raiders. My best friends were Biggs, Windy and Deak, oh, and Camie. We had a lot of fun over at Tosche Station when Uncle Owen would let me go there. Sometimes we'd have to buy supplies from Jawas that passed by our homestead and - "

"LUKE!" Han yelled, sounding annoyed.

"What?"

"That's enough. No one wants to hear your life story, Kid."

"Plus, we've already heard it," Wes added. "Multiple times."

"Fine," Luke said sullenly, sitting back down.

"Okay," Dr. Renzatl said, taking a deep breath. "Now I suppose I can hand out the canvas you will be painting. They are all different scenes, but they will be the same size and skill level."

Leia's hand shot up.

"Yes, Leia?"

"Can I hand them out to the appropriate painters? Please?" She smiled at the doctor. "I know everyone, so I think I can make the best choice for each person's unique personality."

"I suppose," Dr. Renzatl said, sounding a bit leery.

"This is a bad idea," Han said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the Princess.

"What? You don't trust me?" Leia asked innocently.

"Not in a million light-years, Sweetheart,"

Chapter Text

Dr. Renzatl waved Leia to come over to the center of the circle where she had set up a table that held a stack of canvases, each approximately 40 cm by 50 cm in size, and tubes of numbered paint, along with many brushes of various sizes.

"These are the designs, and you need to give the correct paint colors to go along with each canvas. Also, give each member four brushes. Two have very small tips, and the other two are medium sized. Everyone will undoubtedly be using the smallest brushes the most, which is why you are given two each."

"Sounds good," Leia said.

"Each painting has a small image of what the completed work should end up looking like on the back corner," the doctor pointed out, turning over the canvases. Indeed, each image, approximately the size of Leia's palm, was printed on the back of the canvas, on the right hand side of the bottom corner.

The Princess spent several minutes shuffling through the images like she was dealing a giant deck of sabacc cards. Eventually, the men grew impatient until Wes finally yelled out, "I'm getting gray hair waiting, Leia!"

"Coming," Leia said, grabbing one of the canvases. "I'm starting with Luke, and going in the opposite direction." Smiling, she walked over to the only pilot eager to see his project. "I've decided to give you a pretty beach scene." Leia pointed at the small image. "A family of three sitting on a colorful blanket, enjoying a nice, summer day playing in the water."

"Great!" Luke enthused. "I'd love to spend the day at a beach."

"Can't get enough of sand, huh, Luke?" Wedge asked sarcastically.

"It's not the sand. It's all that water," Luke said, smiling at the picture. "Image all that water. And those pretty white birds flying overhead, too."

"Until they take a shit on your head," Han told him. "Then you'll want to shoot 'em."

"They're not real!"

Han just rolled his eyes while Leia headed back and gathered up her next canvas, taking it over to Col Serra. "A picture of two speeder bikes approaching a finish line in a race."

"Thanks, Princess," Col said, nodding in approval.

Zev was given a picture of a purple star whale, also called purrgils, soaring through a very colorful hyperspace background. He, too, was happy with his picture.

The Princess handed Dak a picture of what appeared to be a group of small Wookiees wearing hoods and carrying spears, dancing around a fire. "I had no idea Wookiees wore clothes."

"They don't," Han stated firmly.

"Then what are these funny looking beings? They sorta look like Wookiees."

"Honestly, I don't know," Leia confessed. "I've never seen those types of beings. But they look cute and harmless."

"Until they roast you over their fire," Serra said, chuckling as if he knew something no one else did.

"Are we allowed to trade?" Dak questioned.

"NO!" Leia snapped. "You paint what I give you."

"Don't make her mad, Dak," Han warned. "She hits real hard."

"And I suppose you know this from personal experience, Solo?"

"My nose used to be nice 'n straight until I met her," Han replied with a shrug.

Leia sighed and handed Hobbie his picture. "I hope this is acceptable."

He glanced at the picture, which showed a rolling, wheat colored hill and a herd of gallazes leaping through the tall grass. "It's fine. I like it."

"Good," Leia said, trying to keep her temper in check. "Because I really don't care if you don't like it."

Wes Janson was handed a picture depicting a Gungan dressed up like a clown, riding on the back of a bantha, in a colorful, circus setting. "Are you trying to tell me something, Leia?"

"Whatever do you mean, Wes?" she replied, her tone overly saccharine. "Do you have an issue with your picture, too?" She frowned, putting her hands on her hips and taking a threatening posture.

"Nope, not at all, I love it. LOVE it."

"Glad to hear that."

Wedge bit his lip nervously as Leia presented him his picture. It was a picture of a YT-2400, sitting in a green field, with a setting sun and mountains in the distance. "I love this one!"

"I knew you would," Leia said, patting Wedge's shoulder. "Since everyone knows you're the best pilot to ever come from Corellia."

"HEY!" Han shouted. "He's not the best! I'm the best!"

"Leia says I'm the best … so there," Wedge returned, sticking out his tongue at Han, who crossed his arms and was looking very annoyed.

"Now, this one is yours, Han," Leia said, handing Solo the second to last canvas, since she had saved one for herself. "Here you go." She gave it to him with the numbered front facing the Corellian.

"What is this supposed to be?" Han asked, squinting and trying to figure out the image.

"Turn it over and you can see what it is."

Han flipped the canvas over, looking at the small picture on the back. "Wha….?"

"It's a litter of baby pittins!” Leia said, smiling widely. "See? They're all sitting in a wicker basket, with a cute pink and white ribbon wrapped around it. Notice the little white daisies poking out of the edge of the basket?  This is so unbelievable cute.  I just love pittins."

For a few seconds, Han was actually speechless while the rest of the class howled with amusement. "Pittins? If you love 'em so much, why don't you paint this one?"

"Nope," Leia said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the laughter. "I like the picture I picked out for myself. It's a vine-covered cottage with a flower garden in the front yard. When I was growing up, I always imagined living in a little cottage in the woods. If you don't believe me you can ask Chewie. I'm quite certain he'll back up my story."

"I'm trading with Wedge," Han declared.

"Oh, no you're not," Wedge quickly shot back. "I like my picture."

"Then I'll take Luke's… or Hobbie's."

"There will be no trading," Leia stated firmly, once again. "And Luke and Hobbie also happen to like their pictures, right?"

"I love mine," Luke said, nodding.

"You'll pry my picture out of my cold, dead hands," Hobbie said.

"I can arrange that!" Han yelled in disgust. Glaring at Leia, he asked, "Why do you hate me so much? I gave you an entire bottle of Whyren's a few days ago!"

"Is that where you got me that bottle?" Col asked between snorts of laughter.

"What?" Han shouted, eyes wide as he pointed at Serra. "You gave it to HIM? WHY? That whiskey cost me a lot of credits!"

"I don't know what you mean by my hating you, Han," Leia said innocently, trying to distract Han from the whiskey issue. "I gave everyone very appropriate pictures. Plus, I love pittins, so I certainly wouldn't give someone I hate something I love. You'll be happy with your picture once you get started."

Dr. Renzatl cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. It was looking more and more likely that a fist fight would erupt at any moment. "Now that everyone has their canvas, let's all get started. I will come around and give assistance to anyone that needs help getting started."

Han raised his hand, refusing to look at Leia, who was busy setting up her own canvas on the easel.

"Yes, Captain?" the doctor asked, acknowledging Solo with a bit of concern in her tone.

He waved a hand toward his pittin canvas. "You don't happen to have a spark stick on you, do you?"

Chapter Text

The doctor's painting instructions hadn't been truly needed. Paint by Numbers was pretty much self-explanatory, even for all those beginners. Han started with the paint container labeled '1' and clumsily applied it to the canvas with the overly-tiny spaces bearing the same number. Staying between the lines seemed nearly impossible and only a few minutes into the project, the Corellian was already frustrated with his lack of finesse.

After several long minutes, he could feel Leia's eyes watching him and felt a spike of annoyance at her staring. "What?" he hissed out, trying not to be overheard, which was difficult in this small space. Not to mention that caves in general had a tendency to make anyone's voice sound amplified.

"You're using a number three brush, which has the second to largest brush head," Leia stated, not trying in the least to speak quietly. "Unless you're filling in a large area, you should be using a number one or a number two, and not anything bigger.”

Han waved his brush at the canvas. "Large spaces? What large spaces? There ain't any large spaces! In fact, they're all so tiny I can barely read the numbers. I'm gonna go cross-eyed before this painting is finished."

"The light blue background above the pittins' heads is large enough to use a number three," she informed him, ignoring his complaints. "Use a number two brush for the light yellow you're currently working on."

"I can see the numbers through the paint after I've already put it on," Han continued griping.

It was Wedge that spoke up at that point. "I've noticed that if you wait a second for the first layer to dry, and then dab a bit more over the number, it helps hide the print."

"Great," Han muttered. "I'm surrounded by experts on both sides."

Wedge laughed, then leaned back to get a better overview of what he'd been painting. At that very moment, Han felt a splash of liquid land on his left cheek and the side of his chin. Surprised, he put his fingers against his face, and came away with a smear of bright orange paint.

"Did you just fling orange paint at me?" Han hotly demanded as he glared at Wedge.

"Me?" Wedge asked, eyes wide and pointing at his chest. "I'm working with a green color!" He held up his brush and pointed at his canvas as proof.

"Then…?" Han spluttered, leaning forward and looking past Wedge. "JANSON!"

Wes was busily applying paint to his canvas, intensely focused on his work. "What, Solo? Some of us are busy working on our painting, you know. Stop being a nuisance."

Grunting in disgust, Han stood up, sending his stool crashing backwards. "I ain't blind yet, and I can see you're using orange! Why the kriff did you toss paint on me?!" He stalked over to Janson, who quickly stood up as well, holding his wet paint brush up in front of him like it would act as some type of magic wand of protection against irate Corellians.

"It was meant to hit Wedge," Wes stuttered out as he observed the murderous glare emanating from Han's expression. "He moved back unexpectedly, so I missed!"

"Maybe you'd like it if I shoved that brush up your big proboscis, Janson," Han questioned, grabbing Wes by the front of his shirt and snatching the orange tinted brush from the pilot's fingers.

Dr. Renzatl had noticed the altercation, hurrying over to intervene. "Gentlemen! Really, this is only the first day of class. Can we behave like adults and not six-year-olds, please?"

"You're asking Wes Janson to behave like an adult?" Leia asked, raising her eyebrows.

"When I attended school, my teachers always separated the trouble-makers by putting them on opposite sides of the room," Hobbie said helpfully. "I recommend putting Janson and Solo at least four people apart from each other."

Luke let out a loud snort of laughter at that comment, while Han released Janson's shirt. "I ain't moving from my place."

"Of course not," Dak said sarcastically. "If you can't sit next to the only girl in class, you'll take your paint and go home."

"What's it to you, Ralter?" Han snarled.

The doctor rubbed her temples. "Dak, can you please swap seats with Wes? I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure," Wes muttered, grabbing his easel and shuffling over two chairs, while Dak reluctantly moved closer to Han Solo. "This is your fault," Janson whispered toward Dak as they passed each other.

"MY FAULT!?"

"Gentlemen!" Dr. Renzatl shouted, a bit loudly. "Please just sit down and paint." She pointed at Janson. "No throwing paint, or … or…." She hesitated, wondering if kicking people out of class would be considered punishment or a reward.

"Or I'll have Chewie rip your arms out of their sockets," Han finished up for the doctor as he picked up his stool and sat back down.

"Do you think my Cubic Dancing will go as smoothly as this class?" Leia asked Dr. Renzatl, trying not to laugh at her analyst's expression of dismay. It wouldn't surprise the Princess at this point if her next sessions with the doctor had Leia taking on the role of the therapist instead of the other way around.

Two hours later…

Han flung himself down on the acceleration couch in the hold, giving a tired groan.

*Why do you have orange paint on your face and shirt?* Chewie asked, handing Solo a cold ale, since it appeared his honor brother badly needed the beverage.

"Janson's an ass."

*True,* Chewie said, nodding in agreement. *Did you get much done with your paint?*

"A little bit. It's such a stupid, idiotic painting. I hate it."

*What thing is your picture?*

"Pittins. Stupid pittins sitting in a basket."

Chewie let out a loud howl of amusement.

"Not funny, pal. Leia handed out all the pictures, and she deliberately gave me the worst one," Han complained. "Well, I suppose maybe Janson's is worse, since it's a circus clown riding a bantha. But why give me the pittins? And did you know she gave my bottle of Whyren's to Serra? Does she have a thing for him? I think she might have a thing for him. He ain't good looking, if you ask me. Besides, he's at least a decade older than me. I'm glad he's not in the dance class, or I might have to shoot him."

*I don't think Leia has a thing for Serra,* Chewie said with a sigh. *How did YOUR class go, Chewie. I'd really like to hear how it went.*

"Oh yeah, how did your weaving class go?"

*Great,* Chewie said. *Dodonna hasn't a single clue how to loom weave, and he looked like a complete fool trying to tell everyone how to weave. If I would have paid attention to his instructions, I would have ended up with a pile of knots, just like all the other students did.*

"Too bad no one understands Shyriiwook," Han stated. "You could've been the instructor."

*That is so true.*

"Of course, you could ask Threepio to interpret, and then you could be the instructor. It'd probably thrill old Dodders to get out of having to give that class."

*I have no more patience for that droid than you do, Cub. I will keep attending the class and be amused at everyone's incompetence.*

"How many more days until we leave for Talus?" Han asked, rubbing his neck tiredly.

*Four. When is your first dance class?*

"Tomorrow morning," Han muttered. "One more painting class, two dance classes, and we get a break by making a supply run, pal."

Chewie shrugged as he cracked open his own ale. *I don't mind going to my class. I find it very entertaining and relaxing.*

"Lucky for you."

Chapter Text

The next day Han found himself leaning his head against a rocky wall while sitting on a hard chair, alongside eight other rebels, only some of whom he slightly knew from brief interactions. The Corellian was glad the rebels had installed metal flooring in the majority of the occupied rooms, since dancing on an uneven surface would be quite challenging. Even just walking down a corridor could lead to some twisted ankles or broken legs if someone took a misstep on a rock or inside a crevesse.

Looking over the small group, Shara and Kes Dameron were the two people he knew best, but only because they were friends with Leia.

Hera Syndulla, a green skinned twi'lek and widow to a deceased Jedi, and Sabine Wren, a former Imperial and Mandalorian who was a friend of Hera's, were the only other women in the class, and Han couldn't say he really knew either one other than by way of one brief introduction months prior.

The remaining four students were men that Han had never formally met. Ten Numb was a Sullustan pilot and Kiff Zuhel was a Bothan who worked repairing X-Wings. The last two participants were two Human men; Cassie Ream, a short, scowling, scar faced man, and Mach Parcell, a tall, gangly kid that looked as though he should still be watching morning holo-toons and eating sweet oats for breakfast. Both men worked as general maintenance mechanics. If the Rogue pilots had seemed reluctant to take the painting class, it appeared these four 'students' would rather be in a sterile room waiting to have a tooth removed without anesthesia. It was apparent to Han that none of these males, human or otherwise, should be any concern when it came to groping the Princess, which was a good thing since that meant he could've left his blaster back at the ship, although it was still prominently strapped to his thigh, just in case one of them should need a reminder to keep their hands off a certain Princess.

Before he'd left the Falcon, Chewie had made Han swear that that he'd behave, listen to Leia's instructions, and generally not make trouble during class. Sitting on the cold chair and watching Leia show a holo-demo of professional Cubic Dancers, Han knew this was going to be a hard promise to keep. Cubic dancing looked ridiculous in Han's not-so-humble opinion, but then, most dancing seemed like a ridiculous waste of energy. If a person wanted to work up a sweat, Han knew there were more pleasurable ways to do so.

He found himself wishing either Luke or Chewie had taken this class, just so he'd have someone to talk to and make jokes with; even Janson would make a decent distraction to this nonsense. Everyone in the class seemed so serious, focused with worried, rapt attention on the holo that was projected into the room, while also intently listening as Leia pointed out the names of the various steps and moves along the way. Han was barely paying any attention at all, and found his mind wandering to which minor repairs the Falcon would require in the next three days, then trying to recall the locations of the various liquor stores on Talus that would likely stock Whyren's Reserve at a decent price.

Solo was somewhat startled when the lights came back up and Leia turned off the projector before calling for everyone to stand up and find a partner so they could begin the first lesson. As expected, Kes and Shara grabbed each other's arms, smiling in anticipation. Ten Numb, obviously quick on the uptake, bowed toward Hera, formally requesting to be her partner, to which she agreed. Then Cassie Ream hurried over to ask Sabine for permission, and she also politely accepted although she did not appear to be overly pleased with her dance partner.

This left Han, Kiff and Mach standing alone. As Leia approached the three, for a brief, heart-stopping moment Han worried that Leia would go back on her earlier promise and take the young kid as her partner, but she reached out and took Han's wrist, pulling him toward her with a smile and a wink.

"I guess that leaves you and me as partners, youngling," Kiff the Bothan groused out toward the blushing human. "Don't you try anything funny, you hear me?"

"I… I…." Mach stuttered out, obviously flustered and confused. "Funny?"

"He means don't kiss him on the lips during the first date," Han said, adding to Mach's embarrassment, although Kiff gave a snort and seemed to find Han's comment amusing.

"Wha…what?"

Leia poked Han in his ribs with her fingernail. "Mach, don't pay any attention to Solo. He's a Corellian, and once you know him, you'll understand not to take anything he says very seriously."

"I think I resent that," Han said mildly, while allowing Leia to guide him into place in the circle of beings.

"Ladies on the inside, men on the outside," Leia instructed, which worked fine with everyone except Mach and Kiff. The Bothan quickly resolved the situation by taking the outside position, and the young Human was far too intimidated to object.

The music started and Leia, holding Han's arm, started skipping around while calling out, "Circle left!" Everyone watched her every move and did the exact same thing. "Now, Promenade!" she said loudly to be heard over the music, while all the participants crossed their hands over their partners hands - except for Solo, who had absolutely no clue what Leia was talking - or shouting - about. Exasperated, she took his hands and forcefully pulled them into the correct position.

"Circle Right!" Leia shouted out, quickly spinning to face in the opposite direction - as did everyone else. Except, again, for Han, who skidded to a complete stop as Leia crashed directly into his side, then added to his embarrassment by also stepping painfully on his foot in the process. Shara and Kes, the couple directly behind them, had to take evasive action to avoid a four person collision.

"OW!" Han yelled, letting go of Leia's hands and hopping up and down as he grabbed at his ankle. "Dammit, that hurt!"

"Music, stop!" Leia called out as the music and dancers all came to an awkward, stuttering halt.

"Are we done dancing now?" Han asked hopefully, wincing as he put his weight on his foot.

"Done? We've just started!" Leia glared up at Han. "What's wrong with you? I went over all these commands, and described them in great detail what to do when I call out the appropriate directions. Were you paying any attention at all?"

"Maybe. Sorta," Han said, trying to ignore all the annoyed stares from the other students. "For the first five minutes, I think."

Leia gave a tight lipped, humorless smile. "Everyone - except for Han - please have a seat. I guess I'll have to give some individual instructions to my one, remedial student. This can be a learning experience while you watch and see exactly what not to do."

"What?" Han spluttered out. "You want everyone to watch me make a complete fool outta myself?"

"You did it to yourself, Han," Leia said, glaring at Solo. "If you want someone to blame, go look in a reflector."

Two hours later, back at the Falcon…

*How did your Cubic dance class go?* Chewie asked as Han limped dramatically into the hold. The Wookiee reached into the cooler for yet another ale.

"No, no, not an ale," Han said, waving his hand and groaning as he slumped down in the engineer's seat. "I need something a lot stronger than an ale. A couple of shots of whiskey should help. An' maybe three or four pain tablets. I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to walk again without a limp."

*What happened?*

"Never get the Princess riled up, pal. Let me tell you, Leia's got a real mean streak in her," Han said, realizing he sounded whiny. "She used me as an example of what not to do during the class, and all the students were trying not to laugh whenever I messed up... and, trust me, I messed up a lot."

*Didn't Little Princess give instructions before starting the dance?*

"Yeah, but I might not've been paying close attention. So then she got really annoyed at me when the dance part actually started."

*So, once again, this is all your own fault.*

Han glared at Chewie as the Wookiee handed him the very last bottle of whiskey he had in stock. "Why do you always take her side?"

*Because she's always right?*

"Some friend you turned out to be," Han complained, twisting open the whiskey and taking a swig directly from the bottle.

*Look at the bright side, Cub.*

"Yeah, I know. We're leaving on a supply run in three days."

*No. I was thinking that by the time these classes are over, you will probably end up loving those Paint by Numbers pittins."

Chapter Text

Two weeks later…

As Dr. Renzatl and Leia were heading to their painting class, General Dodonna passed them in the corridor and he appeared to be in quite a hurry.

"General," Leia said, placing herself in front of the scowling man in order to stop his progress. "I haven't seen you for almost a week."

"Yes, well…. I've been busy."

Dr. Renzatl nodded. "We've all been busy. Your plan to give the pilots and maintenance crews something to do besides hold unauthorized parties and create pranks seems to be working."

"I'm glad," he replied curtly. "How much longer do these classes have to go on?"

"They were supposed to go ten weeks, so we’ve got seven more weeks to go," Leia said, pointing at Jan's fingers. "Why do you have medic-wraps on the ends of all your fingers?"

"It's that damn needlepoint class," Dodonna muttered unhappily as he held up his abused hands for inspection. "I stab myself at least a dozen times during each class. What do I know about needlepoint? Or loom weaving, for that matter?" He sighed. "At least the Wookiee hasn't been attending that class lately. I'm never quite sure if he is laughing at me or threatening me."

Leia bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I'm certain Chewie wouldn't threaten you, General. I just wish Han and Chewie would get back to base. They were supposed to be gone for ten days, and now it's been nearly fifteen. I hope something bad didn't happen to them."

"Yes, yes, right," Dodonna said, rolling his eyes. "We wouldn't want something bad to happen to your favorite contractor. Maybe at our next meeting, we can figure out a way to end these classes at six weeks, instead of ten. Good day ladies." He headed off without waiting for the Princess to respond.

"First he wants everyone to attend classes, and now he wants to end them early," Dr. Renzatl said, shaking her head. "I wish he'd make up his mind."

"Jan wasn't anticipating to actually have to participate, in any shape or form," Leia pointed out. "Now that reality hits him, it's not so much fun."

Dr. Renzatl put her hand on Leia's shoulder, knowing how worried Leia was about Solo and his co-pilot. "I'm sure Captain Solo and Chewbacca are fine. Is it possible he's delaying his arrival to avoid our classes?"

"More than possible," Leia said with a sigh. "It's quite probable, in fact."

The Millennium Falcon arrived back on base, fully supplied with food and with no further evidence of any encounter with enemies. This meant that Han had to re-start his two classes, and he was quite happy to learn that High Command had, once again, gone along with General Dodonna and reduced the required time to six weeks. This meant he only had to endure three more weeks - six more painting classes and six more Cubic Dance classes. He could handle that, no problem. At least that's what he kept telling himself before he went to sleep at night.

Unfortunately, due to the fact he'd already missed two full weeks of his painting class, his pittin painting was far behind everyone else's work. With Chewie threatening him to behave, Han plowed forward and continued to apply paint to the tiny, numbered spaces, as well as attending the dance class.

By the end of the three weeks, everyone's painting was done - except for Han's, which was only about eighty percent completed. At Leia's insistence, he took his unfinished painting, and the paints, back to the Falcon.  Determined to hide the evidence, Han shoved the picture down inside a smuggling compartment. No one outside of the Rebel Alliance would ever know he'd attempted to paint a basketful of cute pittins. After all, a tough Corellian had to maintain his reputation; plus he was planning on leaving and return to full-time smuggling … someday.

As far as the dance class, if Han was being completely honest with himself, once he'd gotten the hang of it he had actually started to enjoy Cubic Dancing. To his surprise, it turned out that it was fun, and spinning around a room while holding Leia was the best part of all.

Coruscant, six years later….

Leia was sitting on a sofa, her legs tucked under her as she studied her datapad for the upcoming conference with some stubborn Devaronian government officials. She looked up and turned off the device as her husband entered the room, suspiciously holding something large and flat behind his back.

"Are the twins asleep?" she asked, keeping her voice down. Their apartment was large, but somehow their two children - which would soon be three, once their brother was born - had excellent hearing and would wake up even if they spoke at a perfectly normal volume. Due to this fact, Han often accused Chewie of being the kids' father, while Chewie would inform his human friend that he'd never know, since the Wookiee wasn't one to kiss and tell.

"Yeah, sound asleep. Hopefully for the entire night, too," Han replied, obviously trying to act casual.

Leia put her datapad down. "What are you holding?"

"What? This?" He pulled out a panel, covered in a flimsy that was printed with daisies.

"Yes, Han. Since you're not holding anything else, that would be what I'm referring to."

He stepped forward, grinning, then handed her the poorly wrapped, light-weight panel. "Open it."

"It's not my life-day," she said, taking the panel and tapping her finger to her chin. "It's not the Holiday fete. It's not Liberty Day. And you wouldn't be giving me a gift on your life-day, unless this is some weird Corellian thing I've never heard about."

Han laughed. "I don't know when my life-day is, Sweetheart, but I'm pretty sure Corellians don't hand out gifts on their own life-days. I suppose mine could be today. I got a one in three hundred and fifty chance." He waved impatiently at the package. "Open it."

"All right, but don't get too excited," Leia said with a smirk. "Or you might not have time for anything else later on."

"Hah, you're a real comedian."

"Yes, I am. Don't ever tell Janson that, though, since he'll think I'm competition." Leia tore off the flimsy, her mouth dropping open in shock. "It's the Paint by Numbers pittin picture!” She looked up at her smug husband, totally astonished. "When did you finish it?"

"Right after Endor, when I found a few minutes to spare, here and there."

"I can't believe you kept it all this time. And… you finished it!"

"I like to be unpredictable. Keeps you on your toes, Princess."

"So… it's been done for two years already?"

"Not quite," Han said, shrugging. "I gotta admit, it took me a while. I had to hide what I was doing from you an' Chewie. I wanted it to be a surprise, and he's got a big mouth. He can't keep a secret if his furry life depended on it."

Leia laughed, rising awkwardly and with some assistance from Han due to her pregnancy. "Thank you!" She threw her arms around Han, kissing him soundly. "I love pittins."

"I know."

The End