Han was lazily unbraiding Leia's hair with a mix of warm satisfaction at finally getting to spend a few hours together and the knowledge that she would just impatiently rebraid it later, when she finally roused from her happy stupor.
"Guess we should get married," he said.
Leia lifted her hand from the bed and placed it on her stomach, which was still only barely rounded at this stage. She lifted the corner of her mouth in an indulgent smile.
"What, you worried about what the galaxy is going to think about us living together? Or would you rather your son be a Solo than an Organa?"
"Figured you'd go for Organa-Solo," Han said, almost too quickly, because he had thought about it, and he knew the way that Leia thought too. She laughed and grabbed his hand, the one tangled in his hair, and placed it over hers on her stomach.
"It has a good ring to it," she acknowledged. "Of course, Organa is a very distinguished name."
"But General Han Solo is a "war hero,"" Han said, rolling the last phrase around with amusement.
"I still outrank you," Leia said, shifting in the bed and curling into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you serious?"
"Might be," Han said. "As long as it doesn't have to be a big production."
"If…" Leia began, and then stopped. Han knew what she wasn't saying. If Alderaan still existed, if they weren't still embroiled in creating a new Republic and stamping out the remnants of the Empire, she might have insisted on it. Flowers, dresses, music, pomp and circumstances -- she'd definitely make him wear a tie. And he'd do it for her, not without complaining about it, but he thought he might be able to talk her out of it.
"Changed my mind," Han said, squeezing her fingers and grinning at her sideways across the bed. "We'll let Threepio do all the planning. He's been fretting around too much waiting on Artoo to be repaired."
Leia giggled. "There isn't a single chance I'll let my protocol droid plan a wedding. Akbar will do it for us, he's enough authority for me. Put some clothes on, we'll go talk to him."
"Now?" Han whined. "I've only been back on base for what, four hours? I'm comfortable."
"It was your idea!" Leia told him mercilessly, sitting up in the bed, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down against him.
"In the morning," Han said. "Let the admiral sleep."
"He's nocturnal--" Leia began, but Han began to kiss her again, and they set the matter aside for now.