Ficlet: I'm Beginning to See the Light
A very late post for starbuck_river's birthday (yes, it was about six years ago WHATEVER). This is a fill for a prompt she gave me (also about seventeen years ago) which was: Star Wars (just to be different) Han/Leia - Han's reaction to seeing Leia in that famous bikini once he gets his sight back. I just want some fluffiness :) Happy extremely belated birthday, Jess. <3
I'm Beginning to See the Light
Han/Leia, G, 966 words
The whole thing is just a sick test. Carbonite isn’t meant to freeze a living human. In fact, most normal people use it to bury their dead. And that, he supposes, is probably appropriate. He’s bantha fodder at this point.
Leave it to the universe to wait until he has one shimmer of happiness to kill him. Just his luck.
He can’t seem to catch a break. Not when he was a kid with Garris, or later as a teenager with Bria. Corellians are supposed to be lucky. They’re born to beat the odds and yet here he is.
Sure, to be fair, a big part of his success as a smuggler is luck. There’s no doubting that. When it comes to the seedy underbelly of the galaxy, Han Solo catches all kinds of breaks. But when it comes to people, when it comes to love, he’s always gotten the short end of the stick.
Then, of all people to waltz into his life, a princess shows up. An actual, legitimate princess, who at first wants absolutely nothing to do with him. And then, right as he finally convinces her that she’s desperately in love with him, he gets betrayed by one of his closet friends and buried alive. Naturally.
The thing he thinks he’s most angry about isn’t so much the part where he’s pretty much dead. Death has been on his trail for years, like a close companion always right over his shoulder. No, the death part doesn’t really bother him.
It’s the part where he’ll never lay eyes on Leia ever again. For a stuck-up, stubborn, completely irritating princess, she’s gorgeous. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her, tracing the shape of her cheekbones with his eyes, watching her hair take shape on her head, seeing her deep, brown eyes turn in his direction.
So when he gets revived, when he actual survives the carbonite freezing, he can’t really be happy for long.
First of all, he’s freezing. The stuck on Hoth naked kind of freezing. Second of all, he can’t even see.
He hears Leia’s voice, telling him that he’s going to be okay, and he feels her lips on his, desperate and warm. She tastes like the desert and fear; he wonders how long he’s been under. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on, but he feels a little less anxious the longer Leia touches him.
That is until he stands up and everything goes crazy. Jabba’s voice is booming in his ears and Leia’s grip on him tightens, her body pressing closer.
It turns out that Leia’s rescue plan isn’t exactly fail-proof. He pleads with Jabba uselessly, tries to talk his way out of it, but it’s to no avail. They’re separated and he’s no better off than he was as a block of carbonite.
Then, of all people to show as backup, little farmboy Luke walks into Jabba’s palace acting all Jedi Master and telling him to trust. Yeah, sure, buddy. These people are incompetent without him.
Miraculously, however, they manage to make it out of the whole thing alive, and for once, he’s happy he was wrong. He stops shaking against cold eventually, and it’s not long before he thinks maybe his sight is returning, one speck of light at a time.
He feels the suns of Tatooine beat against his eyelids as they glide away from danger and into safety. Leia hasn’t stopped holding his hand, her palm tight against his where it rests against his thigh.
And then, like a door creaking open, sunlight floods slowly into his eyes. Jerking his head back in reaction, he puts his arm up to shield his eyes, turning a little towards Leia.
He feels her shift next to him. “Han?”
“Lot of sun in this system,” he jokes.
A small, sharp intake of breath comes out of Leia. “You’re getting your sight back.”
“Seems that way,” he replies.
“That’s good,” she says, soft and low, her breath wisping across his cheeks.
Blinking rapidly against the light, he tries to focus on Leia, willing her body to come into focus. It does, finally, this fuzzy image of a person that he’d recognize no matter how blind he is.
What he sees first is skin. Lots of skin. He keeps blinking, his eyes roaming around as the images start getting clearer.
“Hi,” he says, chuckling a little bit as he takes in Leia’s outfit. He can see Leia’s face clear enough to register the confusion that crosses it, followed by an affectionate eye roll. “Nice outfit,” he jokes.
Leia shifts a little, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable, but Han can’t help but stare at all the gorgeous skin on display, skin he thought he’d never lay eyes on again. When their eyes connect, Han grins and waggles his eyebrows up and down. Leia laughs.
“Don’t get used to it,” she instructs, her grip loosening a little as her lips turn up at the corners.
“I don’t know,” Han muses, pursing his lips in thought, “I think this is an improvement to your wardrobe.”
A sharp smack hits him across the shoulder. Wincing, he jerks back a little bit, but can’t help but laugh. “I’m just saying,” he manages to get out around his laughter, breathing easier as his vision starts to focus more and more. “You should keep it. Wear it around maybe.”
“Yeah, sure,” Leia says, sounding exasperated, but smiling a little. “When Jawas swim.”
“I take that as a challenge,” he replies, smiling roguishly.
Laughing, Leia shakes her head at him. “You’re lucky I love you,” she says, her voice sounding light, but serious.
Yeah, he thinks, his chest full and warm as he smirks at Leia. Maybe he is lucky where it counts.
I'm Beginning to See the Light
Han/Leia, G, 966 words
The whole thing is just a sick test. Carbonite isn’t meant to freeze a living human. In fact, most normal people use it to bury their dead. And that, he supposes, is probably appropriate. He’s bantha fodder at this point.
Leave it to the universe to wait until he has one shimmer of happiness to kill him. Just his luck.
He can’t seem to catch a break. Not when he was a kid with Garris, or later as a teenager with Bria. Corellians are supposed to be lucky. They’re born to beat the odds and yet here he is.
Sure, to be fair, a big part of his success as a smuggler is luck. There’s no doubting that. When it comes to the seedy underbelly of the galaxy, Han Solo catches all kinds of breaks. But when it comes to people, when it comes to love, he’s always gotten the short end of the stick.
Then, of all people to waltz into his life, a princess shows up. An actual, legitimate princess, who at first wants absolutely nothing to do with him. And then, right as he finally convinces her that she’s desperately in love with him, he gets betrayed by one of his closet friends and buried alive. Naturally.
The thing he thinks he’s most angry about isn’t so much the part where he’s pretty much dead. Death has been on his trail for years, like a close companion always right over his shoulder. No, the death part doesn’t really bother him.
It’s the part where he’ll never lay eyes on Leia ever again. For a stuck-up, stubborn, completely irritating princess, she’s gorgeous. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her, tracing the shape of her cheekbones with his eyes, watching her hair take shape on her head, seeing her deep, brown eyes turn in his direction.
So when he gets revived, when he actual survives the carbonite freezing, he can’t really be happy for long.
First of all, he’s freezing. The stuck on Hoth naked kind of freezing. Second of all, he can’t even see.
He hears Leia’s voice, telling him that he’s going to be okay, and he feels her lips on his, desperate and warm. She tastes like the desert and fear; he wonders how long he’s been under. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on, but he feels a little less anxious the longer Leia touches him.
That is until he stands up and everything goes crazy. Jabba’s voice is booming in his ears and Leia’s grip on him tightens, her body pressing closer.
It turns out that Leia’s rescue plan isn’t exactly fail-proof. He pleads with Jabba uselessly, tries to talk his way out of it, but it’s to no avail. They’re separated and he’s no better off than he was as a block of carbonite.
Then, of all people to show as backup, little farmboy Luke walks into Jabba’s palace acting all Jedi Master and telling him to trust. Yeah, sure, buddy. These people are incompetent without him.
Miraculously, however, they manage to make it out of the whole thing alive, and for once, he’s happy he was wrong. He stops shaking against cold eventually, and it’s not long before he thinks maybe his sight is returning, one speck of light at a time.
He feels the suns of Tatooine beat against his eyelids as they glide away from danger and into safety. Leia hasn’t stopped holding his hand, her palm tight against his where it rests against his thigh.
And then, like a door creaking open, sunlight floods slowly into his eyes. Jerking his head back in reaction, he puts his arm up to shield his eyes, turning a little towards Leia.
He feels her shift next to him. “Han?”
“Lot of sun in this system,” he jokes.
A small, sharp intake of breath comes out of Leia. “You’re getting your sight back.”
“Seems that way,” he replies.
“That’s good,” she says, soft and low, her breath wisping across his cheeks.
Blinking rapidly against the light, he tries to focus on Leia, willing her body to come into focus. It does, finally, this fuzzy image of a person that he’d recognize no matter how blind he is.
What he sees first is skin. Lots of skin. He keeps blinking, his eyes roaming around as the images start getting clearer.
“Hi,” he says, chuckling a little bit as he takes in Leia’s outfit. He can see Leia’s face clear enough to register the confusion that crosses it, followed by an affectionate eye roll. “Nice outfit,” he jokes.
Leia shifts a little, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable, but Han can’t help but stare at all the gorgeous skin on display, skin he thought he’d never lay eyes on again. When their eyes connect, Han grins and waggles his eyebrows up and down. Leia laughs.
“Don’t get used to it,” she instructs, her grip loosening a little as her lips turn up at the corners.
“I don’t know,” Han muses, pursing his lips in thought, “I think this is an improvement to your wardrobe.”
A sharp smack hits him across the shoulder. Wincing, he jerks back a little bit, but can’t help but laugh. “I’m just saying,” he manages to get out around his laughter, breathing easier as his vision starts to focus more and more. “You should keep it. Wear it around maybe.”
“Yeah, sure,” Leia says, sounding exasperated, but smiling a little. “When Jawas swim.”
“I take that as a challenge,” he replies, smiling roguishly.
Laughing, Leia shakes her head at him. “You’re lucky I love you,” she says, her voice sounding light, but serious.
Yeah, he thinks, his chest full and warm as he smirks at Leia. Maybe he is lucky where it counts.