AN: In my mind, Rey is Han and Leia's daughter, Breha Organa-Solo, named after Leia's adoptive mother. This fic was inspired by a commercial I saw about dads doing their daughters' hair (rather unsuccessfully). Please R&R! Without further ado, I present Han Solo, Stylist.

"Solo."

"Hi. I'm running late." Leia's voice drifted from the comm. Han glanced at the chrono.

"I figured, being as you were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago."

"The meeting got out late. Are you ready to go?"

"Mostly." He said, having a sinking feeling about where this conversation was going.

"Great. Will you make sure Ben and Breha are ready? I am not sure what Ben's wearing, but Breha's dress is the navy one hanging in the closet. And I might need your help with her hair."

"Sure, sweetheart. See you in a few." He clipped the link back to his belt and turned to his 10-year-old son. "I am trustin' that you can get yourself dressed in a way that won't light a fire under your mother." The boy nodded and left the room. Great. Now all I have to do is wrangle the tornado into a dress. Han tossed his uniform jacket over the back of a chair and caught Rey as she ran full blast (the only speed she seemed to have) around the living room, squealing with delight about whatever made three-year-old force-sensitives happy.

He found the dress hanging in the closet, and after much consternation, was able to get the garment on her squirmy little figure before his wife got home. He had to admit, it warmed his heart to see his daughter's face light up when she found her mother's force presence and ran to the door to meet her. He followed, carrying what may have been the shoes to go with that dress (but what did he know? He may be a smuggler, war hero, general, and pilot, but he was still a guy,after all).

"Mommy! Mommy!" She yelled. Leia's presence also drew a half-dressed Ben. Leia scooped Rey off the floor, working at the fastenings of the navy dress.

"Mom, do I have to wear my good robes?"

"Yes, Ben, you have to wear your good robes." She scolded, handing their squirming three-year-old back to Han. He managed to get in a kiss before she was off to their bedroom to change for the reception. "Will you see what you can do about her hair, please?" She called out to him.

"Okay, you. Can you sit quiet so Daddy can do your hair?" The second the words were out of his mouth, Han knew two things: first, Breha Organa-Solo didn't sit still for anybody, and second, 20 years ago, he'd have shot his own foot before letting those words come out of his mouth. This was no time to dwell on the past, however, so he plopped Rey in her high-chair and buckled her in, hoping it would at least decrease her range of motion. He combed through the soft wisps of brown hair for a moment, trying to decide what in force's name he could possibly do to it.

Ben appeared wearing his jedi padawan robes.

"Benbenbenbenben!" Rey cackled at her brother's approach. The boy smiled at her.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Han asked. Another thing that wouldn't have flown 20 years ago: asking a 10-year-old for advice.

"Don't look at me, Dad." Ben picked up the comb and went back into his room to comb his dark mop. Han looked back Rey, who was craning her neck to look back at him.

"Daddy?" She said expectantly.

"Yeah, sweetheart. It's Daddy." How did Leia normally do Breha's hair? There was some kind of fancy braid that started by her ears and then roped around... it was all pretty complicated. Han would sometimes watch Leia do her hair in the mornings, but he was usually so baffled by the complexity of the styles that he didn't get much of substance out of the experience. There was something that hadn't changed in the last 20 years: Han Solo knew how to un-do hair. Not do it.

Leia had taught him how to braid her hair once right after they were first married and she'd broken her wrist. He'd even gotten quite good at if after a few months, but that had been years ago. It couldn't be that hard. After all, Leia could do it backwards without a mirror. What was the first step? Three sections, that's right. You start with the three sections and then you cross them over each other until you magically have a braid. Right. He put his thumbs above her ears and pulled the first section up. Then he split the remaining bit in half, leaving three sections, one on top of the other.

Breha giggled and shook out of her father's grasp, effectively nullifying everything Han had just done. He sighed and wondered if Bail Organa had ever been asked to do this. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the Viceroy of Alderaan ever needing to wrap his little princess's hair into the ceremonial buns.

"Sit still, you little minx." He said, turning her head to face forward again. He tried again, this time snapping an elastic around each section before moving to the next to avoid having to do it again. He was fast running out of rubber bands, though, so he went to find more before moving on to the next step, which he couldn't remember anyways.

"Will you zip me up?" Leia asked. He turned and fastened her dress, letting his hand linger for a minute as he greeted her properly.

"Ben's ready."

"How's Rey's hair?"

"Ah... we're workin' on it." He avoided, grabbing a few more elastics before leaving Leia to finish her makeup. Han spent the next three minutes trying to figure out how, exactly, you were supposed to cross the three sections of hair to get a braid, especially when Rey's hair was so short and thin. Leia made it look far too easy.

"Are we ready?" Leia asked, positively floating out from their bedroom. She still made his heart pound just a little, even after 15 years. "Oh, that looks cute. Good job, Daddy." She marveled, looking at the three little tails of hair that were standing on the back of Rey's head. She rewarded him with a surprised smile before pulling Rey out of the chair.

"Piece of cake, sweetheart." He bragged. Han pulled his jacket on and took Rey back while Leia collected her wrap and ran her fingers through Ben's hair a few times.

"Daddy!" Rey whispered, throwing her hand's on Han's chest. He looked into her giant brown eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. He looked over to Leia and Ben, who looked to be communicating through the force.

20 years ago, Han Solo would have scoffed at seeing the happiness of the entire galaxy reflected in a tiny politician and a couple of little force-sensitive spitfires, but the current Han Solo couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else.