A/N: Writing pointless, happy Solo family fluff is cathartic for me. I wrote this because I thought it was funny. I hope it doesn't offend anyone.

Timeframe: post-ROTJ.

Han Solo had just raised his hand to palm himself into his apartment when the door swished open and Leia squeezed out into the hallway with him. Her face was anxious and wary and she blocked his way in and let the door shut behind her. Years of marriage had taught him to recognize the maneuver and to be cautious and alert when it was combined with that particular look.

In the early days it usually involved charred food and minor fires in the kitchen or overflowing toilets and stopped up drains in the bathroom. Very rarely it was unexpected guests or extravagant purchases that probably could've benefited from the presence of two heads over the one, albeit beautiful and expertly braided one. Since the children had entered their lives, however, the number of possibilities had extrapolated to such a degree and extent that Han didn't even bother trying to guess any longer.

"What is it?" He asked, watching color rise on his wife's cheeks.

"Wellll," she drew out, stalling. Never a good sign. The threat meter ticked up a level from unidentified incoming ugly to Super Star Destroyer in system. Or: definitely not a clogged drain. "Remember when you told the children they could get any outfit they wanted for the costume party this weekend?" Leia continued.

It only took a few ticks for Han to recall the conversation. He had just gotten home and was bone-tired and hungry. The kids had ambushed him and outnumbered him. He even winced at the memory of the decibel levels their pleas had risen to before he finally relented.

"Yes," he replied slowly, thinking: how bad can it be? The worst thing and first thing that sprang to mind was a gaggle of Darth Vaders dashing about between him and Leia and that maybe, if that was the case, they should rethink their own attire. "And?" He asked, since Leia seemed inclined to nervously gnaw on her lip rather than to actually say anything.

"I tried to dissuade them," she began. "Even went to a store that I knew didn't have...certain selections."

There went the Darth Vader theory. "And? C'mon, how bad can it be?" He asked again, reaching around her and palming the security pad for their door.

He felt Leia's hand on his arm as the door swooshed open and their living room came into view. "Daddy! Daddy! Look at us! Look at who we are!"

Han Solo would be damned to admit it, but his heart dropped into his stomach for a quick moment before he quickly centered himself a bit. The sight before him was a tad disconcerting, even if they were all less than a meter tall, each one of them. "Well, look at you," he said, knowing that Leia could probably recognize his forced tone but that the kids would not be able to.

"Do you know who we are?"

"Do you recognize us?"

"Oh, yeah," Han said, walking into the room and feeling Leia walk in next to him, not letting go of his arm. The kids were young. They hadn't really been told all that much about every detail of their parent's lives before they had been married. They barely knew who Darth Vader was, well at least, who he was to them.

"Look! I can shoot fire out of my wrist!"

"And we have jetpacks!"

Han sat down on the couch and studied the pieces of Mandalorian armor that were being presented to him for inspection. The button on their wrists made a noise when it was pressed and a red light glowed menacingly. The two cylinders on their backs had a similar button that emitted a loud exhaust sound when depressed. Immediately, at the sound of that noise, all the kids began to run around the living room and sofa as if flying.

Han sat back and turned his head to look at Leia. She had sat down next to him and had her hand on his knee. She was smiling now, looking sympathetic, still a little wary but slightly amused. "They say he's something like the second best seller," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"I can imagine."

"Are you mad?"

"Mad?" He asked, as he looked away from her to watch his kids running around and laughing. "Nah. That was a long time ago. Let 'em have their fun."

"Are you sure?"

The way she asked had him pivot his head back to look at her. It was another warning, like being met in the hall. "Yes," he replied cautiously. "Why?"

She scrunched her face up a bit, hesitating. "Because there's more."

"More? As in, what? Was the man himself at the store? Is he waiting in the other room with your father and a carbonite chamber?"

Leia made a face and pulled her head into her shoulders slightly. "Close."

"Close?" He replied, sitting up straighter and becoming alert, staring at the hallway across the room as if expecting the infamous bounty hunter to waltz in at any moment.

"Relax," Leia soothed, patting his knee. "That Sarlacc Pit was pretty unforgiving, I think. Kids," she called out. "Come over here. Show Daddy what's in your pockets."

A round of "oh, yeahs!" broke out as all of the children ran to stand in front of their father, jostling for position at the center of his attention. "Look," one of them said proudly as they fished the small item out of a pouch near their bellies. Han had to lean forward and scrunch his eyes a little to make out what it was. Dawning hit him at the same moment that the child continued, "It's a man in carbonite!" The child declared proudly. "Look at how funny he looks!"

"Yeah!" The kids all broke out together. "Like this!"

Han watched as each of his kids bent their arms at their elbows and posed their hands all-too familiarly as they fixed their faces in open-mouthed painful grimaces.

"Okay, okay. That's enough," Leia said, shooing each of the kids. "Go get out of those costumes and put your jammies on."

With typical groans and pouting the kids reluctantly filed out of the room. Han Solo plopped back into the cushions of the sofa, flopping his head back and rubbing his fingers against his closed eyelids.

He felt Leia lean into him, her hand still on his thigh pressing heavier against him as she whispered, "You okay?"

He thought of all that they had been through. Of all the situations and emergencies that had greeted him at their door over the years. This one would be particularly memorable in its own way. But a part of him just wanted to laugh. He dropped his hand and looked over to his wife, hugging her to him. "Yeah, I'm alright," he said, kissing the top of her head. "But I'm pretty sure you owe me for this one."

"That much I figured," she replied. "And you know I don't like to be in your debt for long."

Once again he read between the lines of her words, picked up on the subtle change in the tone of her voice. "Care to share?" He asked, hopeful that his payment didn't involve cooked dinners or missed turns on carpool lines.

"Well," she said, perking up a bit and drawing her legs up underneath her so that she could properly whisper into his ear. Another very promising signal. "I might've bought another costume while I was at the store today."

"And? I'm listening."

"And," she purred. "Care to guess what the top seller might've been?"