Every red-blooded man who's anything dreams of having a set of twins. How can he not? Just the idea of it drives a shudder into his body, making the air around him steam and shiver. Because one was a dream and two was beyond heaven, even if it would be too much endless trouble for any one man.
And, while there had been two sets of twins before now, it was never like this, and Han can't figure out exactly how he got completely wrapped around these two. Or how different this had ended up from anything he'd ever considered.
One of them a bossy princess and Republic leader; the other a naive boy turned master Jedi, and both of them have become so much a part of his heart, his head, his life that he can't imagine really telling them about it or leaving them behind. Leia's all mountains and trees, talking about rebellions and democracy. Luke's all sand and sun, wielding power no one's seen in years and dreaming about a new way
And neither of them ever stands still long enough.
They can't keep themselves out of trouble or from being almost killed if he isn't watching them every second. They balk at the idea that they need someone to help them or to tell them what to do. They kissed like sin, one loving like tomorrow was already on fire and the other talking about time like they had it in spades.
This is infuriating and unbelievable.
It's going to cause him endless trouble.
