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They’ve been travelling together for a few months when the grooming starts. Han’s sitting in the cockpit – not that he really needs to, they’re just drifting along in a quiet part of the galaxy, saving fuel – but because he loves being there. He loves being a pilot, loves looking up and seeing the stars, loves having a ship that’s his. Ours, he thinks, as he hears Chewbacca’s footsteps down the corridor, and the thought surprises him.
Chewie growls a greeting as he pads into the cockpit and sits beside Han.
“Hey buddy,” Han says.
Before he knows what’s happening, Chewbacca is manhandling him onto his lap and grooming his hair. Han squeals, his arms flailing wildly.
“Hey, can you cut that out? Ow! Chewie, do you have claws?”
“Do I look like I don’t?” Chewbacca growls.
Han’s getting better at understanding Shyriiwook, and he’s starting to realise just how sarcastic Chewbacca is.
“Well, can you not put them on my head?” he says, “It’s making me kinda nervous.”
Chewbacca carries on unfazed, carefully working through Han’s hair with big, heavy paws.
“I won’t hurt you, Han.”
“You nearly killed me when we first met.”
“And I licked you better afterwards.”
“And it was incredibly weird.”
Chewbacca doesn’t have a comeback this time. Something hard and blunt is running along Han’s scalp, and Han… Han is starting to get nervous.
“Chewie, what are you doing? Please tell me that’s not your teeth.”
“Stop wriggling,” Chewbacca growls, and holds him still, paws on either side of his waist.
So yeah. That’s definitely his teeth. Han does as he’s told, because he’s seen Chewbacca literally rip people’s arms off and he probably shouldn’t try his luck with the guy. Han resigns himself to his fate, crossing his arms huffily.
“Just be gentle, alright. I don’t have as much hair as you do.”
“It’s not my fault your mane is so pathetic,” Chewbacca says, “Now open your shirt, I need to do your chest.”
They run into Lando again, because of course they do. The galaxy is big, but not quite big enough sometimes. He’s in Chalmun’s Cantina, impossible to miss in a particularly flashy cape and pointless scarf, and he’s clearly feeling flush because he offers to buy Han a drink.
“Still got the big guy around, I see,” Lando says, looking over to Chewbacca, who is currently losing dejarik to a gleeful Ardennian.
Han nods, taking a sip of the strange green concoction Lando ordered him.
“Chewie’s a good guy. I mean, his hair clogs up the shower, and the whole grooming thing is a little weird, but you get used to it.”
Lando frowns.
“He… grooms you?”
“It’s a Wookiee thing, apparently.”
Lando raises an eyebrow.
“Sure, for family members. And mates.”
Han nearly spits out his drink.
“You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not,” Lando says, “Ask him if you don’t believe me.”
Han gives him a piercing stare, but Lando just smiles and shrugs.
“I have to admit, I thought Qi’ra was more your type, but hey, I like surprises,” he says, knocking back his drink.
“What are you –”
“Listen baby, I gotta shoot, but you know where I am if you want me.”
Lando claps Han on the shoulder, his eyes darting over to the far side of the room, and Han’s not sure if he’s just seen a bounty hunter or some unfortunate being who’s taken his fancy.
“I actually don’t,” Han says weakly, as Lando walks away.
He hears a roar, and figures he should intervene before Chewie pulls all the legs off the Ardennian.
It takes a year, and a broken heater, for Chewbacca to crawl into bed with him. Han shouldn’t be surprised by this point. Wookiees, it turns out, have pretty much no concept of personal space, and Han’s shivering even underneath his clothes, two blankets, and a black fur cape.
“You,” Han says, from somewhere underneath a lot of fur, “Are way too big for this bed.”
“The bed is too small,” Chewbacca corrects him.
Han sighs heavily, half-awake and stiff.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You are small and hairless. I need to keep you warm.”
Han groans and rubs his face with the heel of his hand.
“I’m too tired to be dealing with this.”
Chewbacca growls softly, something Han doesn’t understand and doesn’t try to, and shifts so Han ends up curled up in his lap like a cat. Han wants to protest, but he’s actually really warm and comfortable right now. Rio was right, dammit.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Han relents, “We can do this. But not every night. And definitely not if Lando’s around.”
“Because he will be in the bed with you?”
“I’m going to sleep now,” Han says, burying his face in Chewie’s hair.
It kind of becomes a habit. When they’ve finished a job and can relax – well, as much as you can relax when you have a price on your head and a new shipment of spice to smuggle. It’s become their way of saying they’re okay. The fact is, they don’t have anyone else. Chewbacca lost his tribe, and Han never had one. But Chewbacca is big, and solid, and here, and that counts for a lot.
“I used to sleep at night with my family,” Chewbacca tells him one night, his voice soft, “And then I didn’t for a long, long time. Until I met you.”
Han doesn’t say anything, just digs his hands deeper into Chewbacca’s fur.
The next time they run into Lando, Han takes one look at him and says, “You look like you need a drink.”
Lando looks up at him and grins, practically crushing him with a hug.
“Boy, I am glad to see you,” he says.
Han laughs, holds him at arm’s length to get a proper look. Lando’s looking incredibly scruffy, welts fading around his wrists.
“How many nights have you spent in a cell?” Han asks.
“Too many,” says Lando, “You still have my ship?”
Han rolls his eyes.
“Get in.”
Lando moves incredibly quickly, but he still manages to mutter about every little nick and scratch to the Falcon, even as Han’s shoving him down into a smuggling compartment.
“Why’s Lando here? Has he come to mate with you?” Chewie growls, wandering in.
Han is really, really glad that Lando doesn’t understand Shyriiwook.
“Hey, so Chewbacca’s still around,” Lando says, his head popping up.
“Of course he’s around, we’re family,” Han says, pushing Lando’s head down so he can fit the floor back in place.
“Now, that is goddamn adorable,” Lando says from underneath the floor, “Should I look forward to the pitter patter of little hairy feet?”
Han wrinkles up his face in disgust.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Hey, I’m an open-minded man.”
“Come on, Chewie,” Han says, heading towards the cockpit, “We better get out of here and save Lando’s hide.”
“Because he’s family too?” Chewbacca says.
Han huffs as he takes the controls.
“If he is, he’s the dirty uncle who turns up drunk to Life Day.”
Chewbacca mumbles something in agreement, and they punch the controls like they do everything: together.