Work Text:
Expense Reporting
“Son of a—”
Leia stopped halfway down the corridor.
“You’ve got to be kriffin’ kidding me.”
She changed direction and followed Han’s voice into their home office.
He sat hunched over the terminal, glaring at the screen with the focused hostility of a man facing down an armed opponent.
“What’s wrong?”
“This godsdamn accounting system.”
Leia came around the desk and glanced at the display.
Then she looked at him.
“ERS?”
Han pointed accusingly at the screen.
“It makes no sense.”
“It’s the Expense Reporting System.”
“I know what it stands for.”
“Do you?”
He gave her a look.
Leia leaned one hip against the desk.
“Han, it’s not complicated.”
“For you, maybe.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
She folded her arms.
“I would’ve thought anything involving you getting paid would be fairly easy for you to manipulate.”
Han narrowed his eyes.
“I mean master.”
“Funny.”
Leia smiled.
“How did you get credits out of the Alliance all those years? We had practically the same system.”
“I got paid in parts half the time.”
“That cannot possibly have been official policy.”
“Worked.”
“And the other half?”
Han shrugged.
“I wrote down what they owed me.”
“Where?”
“Flimsiplast.”
Leia stared at him.
“You’re serious.”
“You of all people oughtta know that.”
She did.
Somewhere in her old files were several of Han Solo’s more memorable invoices to the Alliance, retained strictly for historical purposes.
Certainly not because they amused her.
Leia looked back at the terminal.
Red warning messages crowded nearly every available portion of the screen.
Her amusement faded.
“Han.”
“What?”
“When was the last time you reconciled these accounts?”
He leaned back until the chair creaked.
“Depends what you mean by reconciled.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Then probably never.”
Leia closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
“I always figured the important thing was knowing how far outta balance they could get before somebody started yelling.”
She opened her eyes.
“And somebody has started yelling.”
“That’s why I’m sitting here on my night off.”
Leia glanced at the screen again.
“An audit?”
“Worse.”
Han leaned forward and pulled up another notice.
“They’re withholding payroll until the accounts are cleared.”
Leia frowned.
“Your payroll?”
“My unit’s.”
That changed things.
Han scrolled irritably through the screen.
“Mine too, I guess. Don’t care about that. But I got people with families waiting on credits because apparently I entered a fuel reimbursement under ‘supplemental propulsion consumables’ when it should’ve been ‘operational fuel expenditures.’”
Leia bit the inside of her cheek.
Han looked at her.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re laughing.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing it inside.”
Leia lost the battle and smiled.
Han glared at the terminal.
“I hate this government.”
“You helped establish this government.”
“Starting to regret it.”
Leia looked at him for another second.
There it was.
The part beneath all the complaining.
He was spending his night off fighting accounting software because his people were waiting to be paid.
Han had always been like that.
He could complain for hours about inconvenience to himself.
Someone else depending on him was another matter entirely.
“Move.”
Han glanced up.
“What?”
“Get up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
Leia swatted his thigh.
“Move.”
Han vacated the chair with suspicious speed.
Leia sat.
She studied the first report.
Then the second.
Then slowly turned toward him.
“For Sith’s sake.”
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“There are twelve unresolved exceptions on this report alone.”
“I told you the system was broken.”
“The system is not broken.”
“Then why’s everything red?”
“Because you entered almost everything incorrectly.”
“Sounds broken to me.”
Leia shook her head and opened another screen.
“Honestly, how did you ever keep accounts before the Rebellion?”
Han leaned against the desk.
“Me and Chewie had a system.”
Leia looked up.
“A system.”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of system?”
Han crossed his arms and his expression became suspiciously vague.
“A book.”
She stared.
“A book?”
“Yeah. A book.”
"And what did it say? Run from Jabba?"
Han uncrossed his arms and glared at her. "Towards the end, yeah."
Leia began to laugh.
Han said, “It worked.” And his voice croaked over the word.
That did it.
Leia covered her mouth.
Han looked offended.
“I survived, didn’t I?”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
Leia turned back to the terminal, smiling.
Han Solo was infuriatingly competent at almost everything.
Flying.
Combat.
Improvisation.
Command.
Getting out of situations no sane person would have entered in the first place.
Apparently the universe had preserved some semblance of balance by making him incapable of filing an expense report.
She opened another screen.
“Oh, gods.”
“What now?”
“You submitted repairs to the port landing strut as meals and entertainment.”
“I was tired.”
“You claimed fourteen thousand credits in entertainment.”
“Explains why they flagged it.”
Leia looked over her shoulder.
Han smiled.
She shook her head.
“I can fix this.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Han’s expression softened.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Something passed between them.
Leia thought suddenly of all the things Han did for her that he didn’t have to do.
Late-night pickups from government buildings.
Security details he pretended weren’t security details.
Meals appearing beside her when she forgot to eat.
Hours spent listening to political problems he claimed not to understand and somehow always understood perfectly.
She turned back to the screen.
“Get me a drink.”
Han pushed away from the desk.
“Anything else?”
Leia opened the next report.
Thirty-two errors.
She winced.
“A sandwich.”
“Anything else?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
Han waited.
“Sit down when you come back.”
His expression became wary.
“Why?”
“Because I’m fixing tonight’s disaster.”
“And?”
“And tomorrow I’m teaching you how to do it yourself.”
Han stared at her.
“Leia.”
“No.”
“I’ve got people for that.”
“Apparently you don’t.”
“This could damage our relationship.”
She smiled sweetly.
“Consider it an investment in our future.”
Han muttered something under his breath as he headed toward the kitchen.
Leia returned to the terminal.
Behind her, his voice carried down the hall.
“What kind of sandwich?”
Leia smiled.
“Surprise me.”
A beat.
“See? That’s bad accounting already.”
She laughed.