Written in response to a request from lunaachic: "I wish you could write a fic where Han comforts Leia after a bad nightmare that brings her to tears." Set pre-ESB.
A Place to Rest
Leia hated this. Absolutely hated it.
She hated that she felt so naked here, so exposed. Despite her warm nightclothes, the blanket she was clutching around her, she was still shivering a little.
Where did the blanket come from? He must have brought it, she thought.
She especially hated the salt she could feel now, the tear tracks drying on her cheeks. The evidence that she'd cried in front of him.
She'd done worse than that, actually. Sobbed, wept, come back to consciousness with her head buried in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, his voice low and comforting in her ear: You're okay, Leia, just a dream. 'M here, Sweetheart, you're safe now. 'S okay.
She hated that it had felt so good to rest there for a few moments, to let his voice draw her back to her bunk on the Falcon, to the Rebellion, to life. Away from the nightmare, the explosion, the terrified screams of millions in her head. It had been somehow a collective terror and an individual one all at once; like a stadium of people shouting, the voices of her loved ones ringing out above the din. She'd heard her parents clearly this time, holding each other, their last thoughts of her: Leia, love, we'll see you soon.
And she wouldn't be there, waiting for them in the Force like they thought. They'd all gone ahead, left her here. All alone.
Well, not completely alone. She could hear Han moving around in the galley now, the whistle of the hot water kettle stopping almost just after it began. He was trying to be quiet.
He'd offered her a cup of tea, she remembered now, given her a minute to collect herself once she'd calmed down. Though he hadn't said it that way. You good here for a minute? 'M getting a cup of tea, I'll make you one. Committed, not offered.
She brought the blanket to her nose and breathed in. It smelled like him, like the shoulder of his shirt she'd wet with her tears and snot just a few minutes ago. It smelled good, familiar. She breathed it in again.
What in nine hells are you doing, Organa, she scolded herself. He's going to catch you sniffing his damned blanket and you are never going to hear the end of it.
The naked feeling returned. She lowered the blanket, but pulled it closer around her.
Just then, Han returned, a steaming mug in each hand. "Cold?" he asked. His smile was still the gentle one, not the smirk. "This 'll warm you up."
"Thanks," she said, reaching out to take the mug. As she took a sip, he sat down carefully beside her on the bunk.
Leia wasn't sure what to say, so she concentrated on her tea. He'd made the herbal blend she preferred at night, just the way she liked it: piping hot, with a bit of honey mixed in. She wrapped her hands around the mug, let the anise linger on her tongue for a minute before looking over at Han.
His long limbs were folded up awkwardly around him, and his hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. He was looking down at his mug, too, as if he were afraid of staring at her, invading her privacy. As if she really were naked.
Then he caught her looking at him, and smiled. Again, not the smirk, but a little more confident than his look a minute ago. He shifted his mug to his right hand, and opened his left arm toward her, like he was offering her a place to rest.
She scooted toward him, and took it.