a galaxy far, far away . . . .

[straightouttacarbonite]

HERE IS A PLACE FOR PLAYING STUFF AS NEEDED

There is a reasonable chance of it being NSFW and junk. <3

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[straightouttacarbonite]

There's Han Solo's greatest secret: behind all the bluster and arrogance and complaining, he's occasionally a pretty likable guy.

He tips his head to the side, like he's going to lean in and kiss her-- it's a close call, that, because that's one of those things he likes to do, but she seems like she needs a little more than that-- and considers it for a moment. Considers the situation; not leaving, because of course he's not gonna leave her, but how to make that clear without treading too heavily on the things it'd be better not to think about.

"You just worry about what you did to me."

No arguing with him, woman.

[imahologram]

A pretty likable guy? More like a dangerously likable guy, and easy on the eyes to boot. This would never have been so difficult if he was easy to leave behind. After three years, dozens of arguments, and a war that's not quite over, Leia knows perfectly well that she's not going to get rid of him entirely. It just seems impossible that he's going to something other than the kind of person she talks to when they can't get out of it.

Or seemed, anyway. He hasn't stormed off yet. And she's selfishly, painfully glad of that. Becoming strangers to each other seemed like the inevitable outcome, but it was something to dread. It's become impossible to imagine a life without Han grousing about something in the corner.

"What I--" she starts, her smile becoming a little less tentative. She's affronted--playfully so, her eyes flashing. "What'd I do to you, flyboy?"

[straightouttacarbonite]

"What didn't you do."

Curling his fingers around her hand, he does lean in, now-- not quite to kiss her, just to tease. He reaches up again to wind his fingers in her hair, the simplest little gesture. It's something he loves to do-- embarrassingly so, maybe, but right now he doesn't give a damn.

"You love me," he reminds her. As if she might have forgotten overnight.

[imahologram]

"It's not me I was worried about." She tilts her head into his touch. If he wants to tangle himself up in her hair, she can't find any argument against it right now. His fascination with her hair has always been something worth amusement rather than scorn, not to mention a great deal of fondness. If it means touching a little more of him, who's she to complain. Besides, soon enough, they're going to leave Endor, and she'll have to leave behind this loose, simple style.

At least it seems pretty clear that she's not going to be leaving behind him as well. Her free hand settles down against his thigh, squeezing lightly; she might as well take advantage of the fact that her birth father hasn't retroactively destroyed this good thing, among all the other good things he left in ruins.

[straightouttacarbonite]

"I know."

He can't blame her for steeling herself for the worst. Leia, for all her youth, has lost more than anyone he's ever known. Like hell is he going to be one more thing taken from her. Finally he does lean in to kiss her-- since at last she's not going to take it as a farewell-- though it's brief, barely a hint of what he wants from her. When he pulls back it's far enough to shift, trying to snake his arm around her, pull her close against him.

"C'mere."

Perhaps he ought to say they should go back to the party, the camp they've set up there, but the moss is soft and the forest old enough that it's quiet, here. It feels, for the moment, like they're the only two people on this moon, and that suits him because it means he doesn't have to share her.