#this is my attempt to not write the solo kids in every hanleia piece i make this week

[lizartgurl]

In Your Arms (Han Solo x Leia Organa)

Hanleia Week Day Two: Braids and Blood stripes. @hanleiacelebration

Inspired by this piece by @lajulie24. Takes place after the escape from Jabba's palace.

He was breathing, but the air didn't quite reach his lungs. He thought he'd be able to see better now, but he couldn't. It was blurry, why was it still blurry? Dark blurs, light blurs, gray blurs, it all blurred together and it terrified him.

"Han," a firm voice, strong, unwavering.

He turned toward the sound that had broken through. And the darkness that had started to ebb at what was left at his vision gave way to white, like the angels of Iego. He'd heard the deep space pilots talk about them, a ragged beauty being all that was left of a once-divine species. He'd never give the stories much credit, but only one person he knew could ever echo such beauty.

"Leia-" He hated how his voice trembled, but his body reacted on its own, his arms shooting out to pull her close. She gasped at his reflex, but made no protest. Her arms gently wrapped around his head, bringing his ear against her chest.

"Just breathe, Han, just breathe," She whispered. His chest shuddered, like the bursting of a dam. Air flooded his lungs as Leia's warm arms enveloped him, her heartbeat teaching his how to work again. He felt her lips press against his forehead, her fingers carding through his hair.

"You don't have to," He said, suddenly embarrassed and acutely aware of how sweaty he was, and every grain of sand stuck in his hair. First the fever, and then the day spent beneath the twin suns, he'd wanted everyone else to clean up first, insisting he'd take care of himself once his sight returned, but that seemed less and less likely the longer they were in hyperspace.

"I assure you, I'm worse." She laughed softly.

That seemed impossible. Leia smelled great. Then again, his nose was still a little stuffy after being encased in carbonite for two years, but he knew that he could smell the caff on her breath. And not the cheap stuff the alliance stocked in bulk, but the nice stuff, the hazelnut roasted beans that he kept on the Falcon and claimed it was because he liked the stuff, and not because she once said the scent reminded her of her mother's office in the palace on Alderaan. There was also the lingering scent of motor oil, one he'd only briefly come to associate with His Princess in their brief escapade from Hoth, where she'd insisted on helping with the repairs, even though Han hated to let anyone else but Chewie get familiar with the Falcon's inner workings.

Han dug his fingers into the fabric at her back. Her white senate dress had a soft, almost-silky feel, like a cloud from a dream. Between the handfuls of fabric, he felt strands of hair, damp, wet, but soft all the same.

"You were braiding your hair," He murmured, even as exhaustion hit him like a light cruiser.

"Do you want to help me?" She asked.

He shook his head, "I still can't see."

One of her hands left his hair, bringing it to his and guiding his hands to close around a fistful of her locks.

"You've been sleeping too long," Leia said. Her thumb caressed the corner of his eye, taking with it a single tear. She sat in front of him on his bunk, Han could still feel the warmth of her body just in front of him.

If he squinted, he could make out the difference between the darkness of her hair and the white of her dress. He really liked this dress. It made her look regal, like the princess she was supposed to be, and he knew she was comfortable in it.

He followed the strands of hair up to where they met her head at the nape of her neck. He divided the fistful of hair into sections of three, and started braiding, hoping that he didn't get them tangled. He'd originally learned how to make a braid as a kid, it was better for making stronger rope and stuff, but he'd gotten his best practice in when he started hanging around the Rebellion, hanging around Leia.

The more he squinted, the more his eyes watered, almost like they were cleaning themselves. By the time he'd finished the one braid down her back, he was seeing just enough to know that the one he'd made was not as nearly as good as the other braid she'd done for herself.

But Leia didn't seem to mind, twisting both of them up over her head in a bun anyway. She smiled at him, "Thanks, hotshot," She murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Han placed his arm around her waist before she could leave, "Don't go," he begged, "Not just yet." His vision was getting better, but he didn't trust his eyes just yet. Some irrational fear scurried around the back of his mind, warning that if he took his eyes off his Princess, even for a moment, he would lose her again.

Leia paused, though she hadn't made any indication to move away from him. She dropped her hair, and raised her hand to his cheek. Han leaned against the touch. She was warm, safe, everything that Jabba's palace wasn't.

And she was here. She was safe. He hadn't managed to fail her yet.

"I won't," Leia promised, "I'm not going anywhere."