Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Han Solo's grand plan for his life was never longer than this short list:

1. Stay Alive

2. Keep Chewie alive

3. Keep the Millenium Falcon

4. Make money

That last point was negotiable. The first three were not.

There had been several close calls over the years when it came to not dying. One couldn't be called a seasoned smuggler unless they had stared down the barrel of an enemy's blaster. But all those times when Han felt himself dangerously close to the end, they had been fleeting moments which he always weasled his way out of. He couldn't recall ever feeling the dread of his impending death with such forewarning.

Leia was crafty, he had to give her that. She had waited to start the discussion until after the Millennium Falcon was in hyperspace, and Han was mostly unclothed in his bed. She knew he had nowhere to run to avoid talking with her. She, of course, was still fully dressed, blocking the doorway in case he tried to make his escape anyway.

"It's been almost two years," she said. "You knew it would inevitably come to this."

Han shook his head like a child refusing medicine. "No. I won't do it."

"You will, Han."

Leia wasn't using a Jedi mind trick on him. She had too much respect for him to do that to his poor, defenseless brain. She was just speaking what she thought was the unavoidable truth.

"Leia, you're the most brilliant woman I've ever met, but this is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. You're going to be the accomplice in my murder."

"Han, it won't be that bad. It's just one dinner."

"Yeah, one dinner with your parents, who are going to take one look and want me dead for standing anywhere near you."

"That's not true," Leia took a few gentle steps closer and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. "My mother will love you. It's only my father who will want to kill you."

Her father, the Anakin Skywalker, also known as the Chosen One. The Republic’s savior. The same guy who saved the entire galaxy by bringing an end to both Count Dooku and Palpatine in the span of one week. Han was toast. There was no way he could fend off Anakin Skywalker, not when multiple Sith Lords had fallen to the man's blade.

"I thought we had a nice thing going, Leia," Han whined. "You, me, the Falcon, Chewie third-wheeling, Luke and Lando crashing the party from time to time. It's been a good two years."

"And we still have many more years to enjoy, I promise," she encouraged him. "But if we're exclusive partners, then there are some steps this relationship has to take. Starting with coming to Coruscant for one night."

Han leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, thinking. He asked, "Who else is going to be there?"

"Luke, of course," she said. "Also Artoo and Threepio. I've convinced my mother not to invite my uncles or my aunt. It'll just be my parents who you haven't met."

Han knew Leia wasn't referring to her Uncle Owen or Aunt Sola, her parents' siblings. She instead meant her "Uncles" Obi-wan, Rex, and Bail, and her "Aunt" Ahsoka. Three of those family friends gave Anakin Skywalker a run for his money when it came to accolades from the Clone Wars.

Bail, the only one who hadn't fought on the battlefield, would have been equally distressing to meet. The senator from Alderaan was like a second father to Leia, and he was now the frontrunner to become the next Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. Anakin could slaughter Han, but at least that would be a quick death. Bail's legal power would make Han's demise long and slow in some backwater prison. At least Han didn't have to worry about Bail, for now.

Han then picked up on something Leia had said. "You already told your mother I was coming?"

Leia bit back a smile. "She's excited to finally meet the esteemed pilot I've been spending so much time with."

Han didn't miss that she said nothing of her father's feelings about the subject. Either her father didn't know Han was coming, or he did know and was not as excited as Leia's mother. Both options were very worrisome.

Still, Han sighed. "Fine. I'll go," he caved. "But after I've been murdered, you're going to feel really sorry."

"Naturally," she smiled. As leaned forward to kiss him she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to the floor, where Han's clothes already waited in a discarded pile.

"I still can't believe you said yes," Luke said. He was just a holo-projection, but Han could make out Luke's smirk in the blue image. Luke and Leia didn't share many features, despite being twins, but that look was an exception.

"What can I say, I almost never win an argument with your sister," Han said, downplaying the constant terror which had been plaguing him ever since he gave in to Leia's request. "Just tell it to me straight: how much do your parents already know about me?"

"Leia's said a lot about you. I've told them some more. I'll bet they had Threepio fill in the gaps."

"Your vagueness makes me think none of you painted the most flattering image of my character."

Luke shrugged. "It's not our fault the facts aren't great. You are a smuggler, you were in a lot of debt, and you have flaked every other time my mother's invited you over. Also, you did only agree to help me save Leia for a large sum of money."

"I didn't even know her then!" Han defended himself. "Or you, for that matter. Forgive a guy for trying to make a living."

That was how Han had even wound up in the Skywalker twins' orbit in the first place. Luke and Leia, both newly Knighted Jedi, had gone on a mission to Tatooine. Chaos struck, Leia was captured, and Luke got stranded without a ride. It just so happened that Han was the closest pilot for hire.

Han had expected that helping to save Leia would have been the end of it. But then a few months later Leia needed a ride from a barren snow world called Hoth which she wanted to be off the record (another mission had gone off the rails). While en route back to the Jedi Temple the Millennium Falcon had a few issues that caused the ship to be stuck in sub-space for a few weeks. By the end of those few weeks, Han and Leia were a thing. They weren't quite official at first, but over two-ish years their relationship solidified into partner status. Leia was right that with this change came certain milestones Han needed to cross. But that didn't mean Han had to go into this upcoming meeting blind.

Hence, this holo-call with Luke.

Luke said, "My parents are two very different people. My mother's work in politics means she's good at seeing through facades."

"So you're saying I can't charm her into liking me?"

"Not exactly. For whatever reason, Leia finds you genuinely endearing. Our mother probably will too. But if you lie to her, that'll be it. She'll put up a wall even you can't break down with your personality."

Han nodded, committing this tip to memory. Lying was a tool he had used so much as a smuggler it was sometimes second nature to him when meeting important people. "And your father?"

"Three feet," was all Luke said after a moment thinking about the question.

"'Three feet' for what?"

"The length of his lightsaber. If you keep enough distance, then you should be out of the immediate attack zone. That should give you a running start when things go south."

Not if. When.

"You think I don't even have a chance?"

Luke held his hands up in surrender. "Look, all I can say is that you're the first guy Leia's ever brought home. My father would hate you even if you were a perfect law-abiding citizen who never did anything wrong in your life, ever. You can't impress him no matter what you do."

And yet, Han still had to try. He didn't have a choice.

Han swiped a shiny green tunic to the right of the closet rack, where it joined a dozen other rejected garments he deemed too flashy for his taste.

"Be gentle," Lando urged Han from where he reclined on a small sofa against the opposite wall. "Some of those are worth more than the Falcon."

"Nothing's worth more than my ship," Han said. "Aside from maybe the people I care about.

Lando hummed. "I'm glad I never made that bet with Chewbacca about how long you and Leia would last. I'd have lost a lot of money."

Han pulled out another one of Lando's shirts—a reddish, long-sleeved affair that at the very least didn't come with a flashy cape.

"No," Lando said.

"Why not this one?" Han held it up against his chest in the mirror. Immediately he understood Lando's rejection. This garment made him look like he was pretending to be a nobleman. Han wanted to look nice for meeting Leia's parents, but he remembered Luke's words about being honest. "Never mind."

"I thought you paid off your debts," Lando remarked as Han returned to the closet's diminishing options. "Can't you just buy something new?"

"First of all," Han talked as he quickly passed on the next three of Lando's shirts, "no more debt does not equal lots of riches to play with. Between me and Chewie, plus upkeeping the Falcon, our accounts are pretty dry these days. Second, I have no fashion taste, whereas you have plenty to spare."

"Fair enough," Lando admitted.

Han went through the rest of Lando's closet, piece by piece, until nearly every hanger had been swept to the side. He was just about to give up when he finally came to the last tunic in the space. It was a simple shirt, navy-hued without any excessive frills—no cape, shiny pattern, or low-cut neckline to distract from the simple tailoring. Han held it up to the mirror.

"I don't even remember buying that one," Lando said. "Must've been a gift a few years back. It's certainly out of style now."

Han didn't know enough about modern fashion to care about being "in" with the times. He took off the old, somewhat-dirty shirt he was currently wearing to try on Lando's clean navy one. He stuffed the hem into his pants. In the mirror he saw someone actually worth dating Leia.

"I like it," he said.

"Consider it yours, my friend," Lando freely offered it to Han. "Just make sure to actually wash it after you've worn it. Having nice things is all about taking care of them."

"Take us down, Chewie," Han directed his friend.

Chewbacca, usually the Millennium Falcon's copilot, was now doing all the work flying the ship while Han checked himself over one more time. Han had remembered everything: he showered, he brushed his teeth, he combed his hair, and he hadn't gotten any grime on the shirt Lando gave him.

Chewbacca told him he was being overly paranoid.

"Easy for you to say," Han said. "You've been married for a century. I bet you don't even remember trying to impress Malla's parents."

Chewbacca's subsequent roar was neither a confirmation nor denial.

As the Falcon descended into Coruscant's atmosphere, Han noticed himself getting a little jittery. His fingers kept twitching, as if trying to remind him that he had forgotten something. My blaster, Han realized. He couldn't remember the last time he left his ship without carrying his trusted weapon at his side. Tonight, however, he wouldn't need it.

Probably.

Chewbacca told Han to relax; Leia's parents would notice the tension in his posture.

"I'll work on it," Han promised, though he didn't know how much he'd actually be able to relax once he was standing before Leia's family.

A few minutes passed before Chewbacca angled the Falcon toward a particular skyscraper which had been marked in the ship's navicomputer as Han's destination. There was a landing pad for the penthouse suite—the Skywalker family's apartment—but Han didn't want Leia's parents to judge both him and his ship at the same time. It was better he have Chewbacca land them at the base of the building, and Han would take the elevator up.

The landing was seamless. It wasn't until the boarding ramp was lowered that Han realized he had been wishing for something to go wrong. Nothing dangerous or deadly, of course, but some inconvenience that would give him a last-minute excuse to postpone this dinner. This was it. The end of the line. 

Chewbacca roared softly, encouraging Han to go.

"You're right, Chewie," Han said. "May the Force be with me, indeed."