AN: I'm not exactly sure how to introduce this, so I'm just going to tell you a little bit about the universe: It's the mid-1960's, Leia is a lawyer working for senator Carl Rieekan, and Han works for a moving company. Leia is from Alabama, and her father has died, but her mother and aunts are still alive and well. Chewbacca is Han's Newfoundland hound. This takes place in the same 'verse as 'The Politician and the Truck Driver,' but the two are really not connected. No need to read that to understand this (but if you like old-married-couple fluff and snuggles, that is a fic for you). If this seems a bit vague, I'm sorry, but I am starting a multi-chapter fic in this 'verse starting on 1/1/17 detailing how Han and Leia met and fell in love! It will be great fun and I hope you join me! For now, though, I hope you enjoy this little bit of holiday fluff-it's more tooth-rotting than all the cookies Santa could eat!
Early December, 1967, A small house in a suburb of Washington, DC
Han and Leia Solo bought their first Christmas tree from the Boy Scouts in the parking lot of the grocery store one rainy Saturday in December. They had to shove one of the chairs in their bedroom so that the tree would fit in the living room, and the branches partially blocked the television, but it didn't matter. It was their first Christmas tree in their first home for their first Christmas together.
They lit a fire in the rarely-used fireplace to dry out, and then began decorating. The first thing to go on was the tin star that Han's grandfather had made back in the 1890's. Han lifted Leia by the waist to perch it carefully on the highest branch.
Han made popcorn in a skillet over the roaring fire, managing to burn himself only once in the process. Leia sat for the better part of two hours making a popcorn and cranberry string to drape around the tree while Han affixed the lights. They had very few decorations, just a couple from their childhoods and a box of Styrofoam balls wrapped in brightly colored silk threads. Breha Organa had sent them a beautiful sphere of frosted glass with 'Solo, Est. May 1967' written on the side in swirly, glittered letters. Han hung that one carefully near the top, away from Chewbacca's powerful tail. Leia draped tinsel carefully over the branches and declared it finished.
"Let's go for a walk," Han suggested. The rain had turned to snow during the afternoon. "We can go to the park, look at all the decorations, and then warm up with some cocoa when we get back."
They walked down to the park, bundled in their long coats, scarves, and boots, Leia tucked under Han's arm, Chewbacca happily leading the way. Garland had been strung around the gazebo and an evergreen wreath with a big, red, bow was hanging from each lamp post. There was a nativity set up near the pond. A group of carolers was singing near the playground and a Salvation Army Santa stood on the corner with his red kettle and bell. A few boys were trying out their sled on the dusting of snow and their sister was making snow angels a few yards away.
The walk home was peaceful, the sounds of the DC traffic somehow muffled by the falling snow. Their boots crunched against the thin layer of ice on the sidewalk. Han couldn't resist stopping for a kiss. Leia's lips and face were cold, but she smiled serenely at him.
"I love you," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of their surroundings.
"I know," he whispered back.
Leia put the cocoa on when they returned, and Han stoked the fire. They curled up together in the big armchair, leaving the couch for Chewbacca. Burl Ives crooned from the radio and Leia snuggled close, burying her cold nose against his wool sweater.
"I think you have frostbite, Your Worshipfulness," Han teased, rubbing one of her hands between his. "Do you know what the cure for frostbite is?" he asked.
"I believe it's soaking the affected area in increasingly warm water until the blood flow returns and the appendage can regulate its own temperature again," she recited. Han rolled his eyes.
"Wrong. It's this," he stated, kissing her knuckles. He pressed featherlight kisses over her fingertips before giving the other hand the same treatment. He moved to her face next, dropping kisses all over her cheeks and nose while she giggled happily. Han was just about to claim her lips when they heard a strange bubbling noise from the kitchen.
"The cocoa," Leia exclaimed, jumping out of the chair and dashing to turn the stove off before the milk boiled over and made an absolute mess. She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. When he kissed her this time, she tasted faintly of chocolate and whipped cream.
"To the best Christmas ever," he said.
"The best Christmas yet," she amended.
"I'll drink to that."
00
"Don't look now, Mrs. Solo, but I believe you're standin' under the mistletoe," Han drawled. Leia looked up and gave him an expression of mock surprise. She put on her doe-eyes and fluttered her lashes.
"Why, kind sir, don't tell my you're one to take advantage of an innocent young lady," she drawled in a perfect southern debutant accent.
"I could never take advantage of an innocent young lady. You on the other hand…" he pulled her closer and let the kiss finish the thought.
00
December 24th, 1967
It was nearing dusk when he pulled up to the house and a light snow was falling, giving the entire neighborhood he cozy air of calm that only came around Christmastime. He was glad to see that the neighbor boy had been by to shovel the recent snowfall and that there was another car in the drive: that meant that Leia's mother and aunts had made it up from Alabama before the weather got too bad.
Han had been gone for a week on a cross-country move, so when she heard him pull up, she threw open the front door and hurried out to meet him in her slippers and flour-covered apron. She slid a little on the icy walk, but he caught her easily and met her offered kiss. It was so sweet that he couldn't help but sweep her off her feet and spin them around. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him once more. They were interrupted by the front door opening again.
"Leia Organa-Solo! Runnin' out of the house in your slippers and apron," Leia's Aunt Celly said from the doorway. This unfinished rebuke was immediately lengthened by the appearance of another aunt.
"Kissin' a man outdoors in broad daylight," Tia added.
"Leavin' the biscuits in the oven," Rouge finished.
"Leave them be, Celly. They're still newlyweds," soothed Breha, the voice of reason.
"How much longer do you think we can still use that excuse?" Han muttered to his wife.
"I think we can still get a few good months out of it yet," Leia whispered back, taking his hand. He detected the slightest tinge of the south in her voice, something she always picked up again when she was with her family.
The entire house smelled wonderful, a mixture of the cookies that were cooling on the table, the mulled cider that was boiling on the stove, the biscuits that were baking in the oven, and the pot of something on the stove that Han assumed contained dinner. Carols played quietly from the radio under the cabinet. Chewbacca was in dog heaven, pushing through the tangle of feet and legs and hips in the kitchen to get at the tasty morsels that hit the orange laminate floor. Han tried nibbling, first on all the delicious dishes placed around the kitchen and then on his delicious little wife, but was constantly scolded with a slap to the wrist before he got away with much. He and Leia nearly choked when Tia, who was losing her hearing, muttered rather loudly about what a good wife was supposed to do for a man with such an appetite.
Han quickly determined that the safest place for him was in the chair in the corner, snagging a stray cookie now and then, simply watching the four older women and his young wife working efficiently in the kitchen. Leia didn't much like cooking, in fact, Han usually did most of it for the two of them. But southern cooking, he was coming to realize, was more of a social function than a daily necessity. The women talked and bantered easily with each other, and Han was coming to understand his late father-in-law's oft-repeated sentiment: too many hens in the damn henhouse. Hearing Leia speaking with a southern lilt made Han very glad that his mother-in-law had suggested the Organa women stay in a hotel nearby: he'd have Leia all to himself tonight. She was a smart woman, Breha.
Dinner was served once the baking was finished, and after dinner, the women made quick work of the dishes while Han cleaned the snow from Rouge's car.
When he came back in, Breha was handing Leia what appeared to be a bundle of towels. She carefully unwrapped them and drew out two white porcelain mugs with delicate, hand-painted Christmas trees on them. The mugs appeared to be old, and obviously held some significance to Leia, because she set them gently on the counter and wrapped both arms around the older woman.
"Every couple needs a few traditions for their first Christmas together. Daddy wouldn't have wanted those to go to waste."
"Thank you, Mama," Leia murmured, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. Breha looked to Han.
"My husband and I bought those the day we found out we were getting Leia. December 12th, 1941. We drove up to get her on Christmas Eve. She was the best present we ever got. Every year after that, we'd put her to bed on Christmas Eve and sit together and drink spiced cider out of these and talk. That was always when Santa Claus came," she teased, running her finger over Leia's teary cheek. "It was a silly little tradition, but we never missed it," Breha explained. Han pulled the woman into a hug, knowing how much the cups and the tradition must mean to both of them.
"That's enough sadness, now, Breha. These two want to be happy. Now let's go," Rouge kissed Leia's cheek and then Han's and walked to the door. Celly and Tia followed her lead.
"We'll be here to make Christmas dinner tomorrow at noon. I love you, child." Breha hugged her daughter and son-in-law tightly before following the other three out the door.
"That means we have to be dressed by then?" Han teased as they waved out the front door. She smacked him playfully on the arm as she locked the door.
Leia filled the two mugs with spiced cider and they curled up once again in the big armchair.
"We're supposed to be talking," Han murmured between kisses.
"We can start our own tradition," she replied.
AN: I told Santa I wanted reviews in my stocking!
Happy Holidays!