Work Text:
Han and Leia have a tradition, one that has gone on for so many years that now, in their old age, hair streaked with grey, neither really remembers how or when it started. However, it has become such an important part of their relationship that they can’t imagine not doing it.
The tradition is watching fireworks, huddled together in the dark, their faces illuminated by the bright colours. There is no set day of the year that this tradition happens on, it is simply when one or the other comes across a notice on the holonet for night of fireworks. They have travelled all over the galaxy watching fireworks - going from relaxing on hot, sandy beaches, to shivering in winter coats, to running back to the Falcon as rain appears out of nowhere, and everything in between. They have seen fireworks in every single colour imaginable, in every type of setting - from inside the ruins of an ancient palace, to ankle deep in cool, water, to surrounded by sweet-smelling, waist-high flowers, and even high up on a snow-capped mountain.
They don’t talk much during these nights, they just enjoy the simple pleasure of each other’s company, sometimes they just hold hands, other times Han will pull Leia close, wrapping his arms around her. But always, they will glance away from the show in the sky, just to see the look on the other one’s face, because the fireworks are always stunning, but there is nothing better than seeing the expression of pure happiness that the moments bring. They never say it, but both think that they have never seen the other look so beautiful than in these moments. Fireworks are meant to represent celebration, but for them, it symbolises love.