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When Lando extracted himself from the party and its horde of charming guests (all criminals of some ilk of course), he headed to the wide balcony. It was beautiful here, this planet was known for its clear skies which drew people from far and wide, and that combined with its tropical climate had turned it into a prime holiday site, albeit one with strict light pollution policies.
Breathing in the warm night air, he saw a familiar silhouette leaning on the railing, staring up at the magnificent star scape above. He couldn’t see it from here, but Lando could picture the expression on his face, eyes alight with the awe and wonder reserved solely for the vastness of space.
It still surprised Lando to feel his chest constrict at that look, and on Han fucking Solo’s face of all people, when the brash exterior fell away to expose the softness underneath. It was a feeling that was happening more and more often. It worried him. He’d had his fair share of partners before this, of all sorts, but this was something new.
“What are you staring at?” he murmured into Han’s hair as he came up behind him, abandoning his drink to a small side table and pressing a kiss to the top of his head before moving to stand at his side.
“The stars.”
“The party not to your liking?”
Han looked back at the glowing room behind him, music and voices mingling with the night sounds of the jungle beyond and made a face.
(This would soon become known as the “these people are all boring and I don’t like watching Lando flirt with them all and I don’t like how crowded it is” face.)
Lando chuckled then perked up as he realised he recognised the song now playing.
“Come on.”
“Hmm?” Han tore his eyes away from the sky and looked down at Lando’s offered hand. “Oh no, I’m not dancing.”
“I’ll show you, we can stay out here.”
Han tilted his head to the side, considering, then sighed and took Lando’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled away from the railing.
It was slow, uncomplicated, nothing more than gentle swaying and moving back and forth. Lando spun Han in a small circle and pulled him close to his chest.
“See? You’re not that bad.”
“Just because I have a good teacher.”
“I hear he’s good at other things too.”
Han smiled, the small bashful one that was often accompanied by his cheeks reddening, as they were now. It was another facial expression Lando was fond of, and if he thought about it he was fond of every expression Han’s face could pull.
(Especially the ones that were a direct result of his more particular tricks that he saved for the bedroom. Or any room. Or any random wall. Or-)
They hadn’t been together long, if one didn’t count the debacle of the Kessel Run and the following encounters that mainly consisted of spiteful comments and at least one bar fight. But then they had deigned to work together for a job, and they had begun having conversations that didn’t always end in arguments, and then, well, other activities had followed suit.
But now Lando felt comfortable around him, more so than with the others who had shared his bed over the years. He didn’t really want to dwell on it, that had never been his way, unlike Han. But now-?
He shrugged off that line of thought and focused on the now. Maybe, just maybe, whatever it is would work out alright. It certainly seemed possible in this moment, with Han in his arms as they swayed on a jungle balcony, the song crooning in the background and the glowing nebulae and all that represented stretching out before them.