Written in response to an ask from hanorganaas: "I wish you would write a fic with 'little spoon' Han Solo." Post-ROTJ.
Hold Me
For a long time, Han didn't even think of them as nightmares at all. They were just bad moments, vestiges of the state of being he'd known for six months. Flashes of the void, the nothingness.
Tonight had been worse. Paralysis. Couldn't move, couldn't speak. Couldn't think, except to recall the snatches of thoughts that had followed him into the carbonite: Leia. Love. Protect. I know. Sorry. Breathing so shallow, it was like no breath at all.
Han opened his eyes in the darkness, still immobile. Even in the middle of the night, he could recognize the shapes and shadows of their bedroom. He tried to make his thoughts work: just a dream, only a dream. But he remained frozen in their bed.
Call it their bond, their language; call it the Force; call it whatever you'd like, but somehow Leia heard him, found him. Now he heard something more than the pounding of his blood in his ears: he heard her breathing, heard her stir and shift on the bed.
"Han?" she asked. He blinked in the dark, not moving. He wanted to move, but the feeling still gripped him, stopped him. The fear.
He felt her hand grasp his, and he began to release, to unfreeze. He turned his head to see her face in the dark. Her brows were furrowed with concern.
"Leia," he said, finally, and his saw her face relax, though the concern didn't leave.
"Bad dream?" she asked. Normally it was him asking her this question, and she said it in the same way he always tried to say it to her, like it was no big deal, even if she'd just been thrashing and screaming in her bed.
Han nodded. "Like—nothing," he tried to explain. He was capable of words again, but they felt inadequate to express this feeling he'd had.
She put a hand to his cheek, like she understood, could read him clearly. She still asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he replied. Or I will be.
She sat up. "Want anything? Glass of water?"
"Nah. Just—just stay for a minute. Few minutes. Yeah?"
"Yeah," she agreed. She smoothed the hair back from his temple, still watching him. Then she seemed to decide something.
"Is it okay if I hold you?" she asked carefully, and Han recalled how he'd said the same thing to her sometimes, on nights where she needed his presence to find sleep again.
He nodded, and she moved to the other side of him, wrapping her body around him. She was so small, especially compared to him, but somehow that didn't matter. He felt comfort surround and warm him, felt the realness of her, right here with him.
He took her hand in his, brought both to rest over his chest. "Thanks," he said quietly.
Leia snuggled closer. "I've always wanted to be the big spoon," she said, and they went back to sleep.