Work Text:
The focus was supposed to be on the data chip that had been slid across the counter to Han as part of the change for their drinks. She’d gathered it all up and slid it into her cheap knockoff bag, hoping it would hold together until they got back to the ship, which she hoped would hold together until they got back to the base.
But at this moment, she was mostly worried about her dress holding together—it was a filmy, flimsy fake silk that was an unflattering shade of pink and revealed far more skin that she was comfortable displaying. And it made her very aware of Han’s hand, where it rested low on her back, warm through the thin material, thumb just shy of grazing her skin as the low-cut back that dipped halfway down her spine. Lately, she’d been so aware of him, as he was close to her like this, touching her the way no one else did—as if she was a woman not just a comrade in arms.
Now, as they stood at the bar finishing their ale and rose, she was acutely aware of him and his touch. Her blood thrummed through her veins, surely loud enough for him to hear too, for it was all she could hear over the pounding music of the venue. When he leaned down and whispered in her ear, lips almost brushing it, she shivered, but heard nothing he said.
She put her empty glass back down on the bar and shook her head, waving a hand at the air, vaguely towards the amplifiers. He seems to understand, though, leaning again.
“Dance with me.”
Her eyes went wide, flicking between his damnably handsome face and the mass of bodies writhing on the dance floor. She wanted to, which was the problem—she had no idea how to dance like that, or how she’d keep her focus on their mission, dancing like that with him. Which should now be getting out of here, since they had the data chip they came for.
His hand moved from her back to her elbow, then slid down her arm to catch her hand. There was no way he missed the gooseflesh that raised on her bare arm, not with the way he was grinning at her.
“C’mon, everyone else is dancing.”
It would look suspicious, she realized, if they just came in, had one drink, and left. Everyone else was here to dance. Maybe...maybe it would be easier to move towards the exit as they danced, and they could slip right out and back to the safety of the ship, where she was further away from him and it was easier to rein in her feelings.
She nodded, grasping his hand tightly as he pulled her close, tucking her and her bag into his side, arm wrapping around her in the most wonderful way. Her breath caught for a heartbeat, then they were on the edge of the crowd. Beings from a dozen different worlds danced together, a tangle of limbs and lekku and even a few wings.
Han didn’t let her think about it for too long, just pulled her close and began to dance. She felt stiff in his arms, uncoordinated and graceless, staring at the pectoral muscles exposed by his half-open blue shirt. Those were only some of the muscles surrounding her, pressing against her as his legs moved against hers and his arms embraced her.
“Relax,” came his voice, breaking through her hazy awareness. “Relax and just move with me.”
His hand, now on the bare skin of her upper back, pressed her against him, so that she had to take a deep breath at the same time he did, though it caught in her throat as she realized how close their bodies were. She tried to relax and move with him, a more intimate feeling than the dancing she’d been exposed to at court, so close together and with so little between them, one of his legs between hers, so dangerously close to the apex of her thighs.
When she looked up, he was staring down at her, eyes warm and soft, and there was a smile gracing his lips. His hips were rocking against hers, too, and his arms were gathering her close. It was nearly hypnotic, and when the beat dropped, her head tilted towards his; she was certain he was going to kiss her, until she felt his breath hot by her ear.
“C’mon, now!”
As he spoke, a blaster shot rang out, and the dance floor broke into chaos. His hand remained around hers, pulling her along behind him, as she struggled to keep up in her ridiculous shoes. They practically fell through a door with the rest of the crowd, the cold night air a shock to her body. Any lassitude the dance floor might have imparted was gone, and there was flint in her voice when she spoke to him.
“Down two blocks, then over.”
No other words passed between them as they made their way down the street, though their hands remained clasped. As they blended in with the citizens going about their normal evenings, they slowed their pace, and shared a few furtive looks. Two blocks from the spaceport, their hands separated, so he could tap out a comm message to alert Chewie of their return and required hasty departure; he did not take her hand again, though his hand did find the small of her back to guide her through the hatch and up the ramp to the ship.
By the time he was in the pilot seat taking off, she’d found a blanket to wrap around herself before joining them in the cockpit. Chewie greeted her with a nod and a rumble, but Han was entirely focused on getting them out.
As he had been all along, she realized. It had just been a mission to him. Not—not whatever it had felt like it might be to her.
“Should I go man the guns?” She asked, scanning the horizon as the ship rose.
“Couldn’t hurt,” he answered, hands busy on the controls.
She descended into the gun well, and remained there a long time, even after the Falcon made the clean jump to hyperspace. She couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his hand on her back, the feel of his arms around her. Then she remembered the look in his eyes as they’d danced, and knew it had been more than just a mission for both of them--it was a dance they were still engaged in, circling ever closer together.
Soon, one of them would have to take the next step, twirl them around into something new and different. Though it felt like the galaxy was slowly doing that for them, and their embrace was inevitable.