Work Text:
Top Seller
Han Solo had just lifted his hand to palm open the apartment door when it swished aside.
Leia slipped into the hallway.
The door shut behind her.
Han stopped.
She stood directly between him and the entrance, wearing an expression he had learned, through years of marriage, to treat with appropriate caution.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Han stared at her.
Leia hesitated.
Threat level increased.
In the early years, this particular maneuver usually meant something had burned in the kitchen, overflowed in the bathroom, or arrived unexpectedly in the living room.
Since the children had come along, the possibilities had expanded beyond reasonable calculation.
Han no longer bothered guessing.
“What is it?”
“Well...”
She drew the word out.
Never good.
Han mentally upgraded the situation from minor systems failure to Star Destroyer on sensors.
“Remember when you told the children they could pick whatever costumes they wanted for the party this weekend?”
Han closed his eyes.
Of course.
He had come home late.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
Three children had attacked simultaneously.
The negotiations had been loud, prolonged, and heavily weighted against him.
Eventually he had surrendered.
“Yes.”
Leia bit her lip.
Han noticed.
The threat level climbed again.
“I tried to steer them toward other options.”
“What options?”
“Anything else.”
Han frowned.
“Leia.”
“I even took them to a store that I thought wouldn’t have... certain selections.”
Han stared at her.
For one horrifying moment, his mind supplied three tiny Darth Vaders running through the apartment.
Actually—
No.
That would explain the look.
“And?”
Leia said nothing.
Han reached around her toward the door panel.
“How bad can it be?”
Her hand closed around his wrist.
Han looked at it.
Then at her.
“Leia.”
The door opened.
“Daddy!”
Han froze.
Three small figures came racing toward him in green-and-gray Mandalorian armor.
“Look!”
“Do you know who we are?”
“Look at mine!”
Han stood very still.
Behind him, Leia remained suspiciously silent.
One child raised an arm.
“I can shoot fire!”
A button produced an electronic burst and a red light.
Another spun around.
“And jetpacks!”
All three pressed controls mounted on their backs.
The apartment filled with the roar of fake thrusters.
Then the children began sprinting around the furniture with their arms spread, shouting and firing imaginary wrist weapons at one another.
Han slowly walked to the sofa.
Sat.
Leia joined him.
Her hand settled carefully on his knee.
Han watched a miniature Boba Fett leap from an ottoman.
“Huh.”
Leia glanced sideways.
“They said he’s one of the most popular costumes.”
“I can imagine.”
Another Fett flew past.
Han leaned back.
“Could’ve been Vader.”
Leia turned toward him.
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Han narrowed his eyes.
She had that look again.
“Leia.”
“Are you mad?”
He glanced toward the children.
One had fallen onto the rug and was enthusiastically announcing that his jetpack had malfunctioned.
“Mad?”
Han shrugged.
“Nah.”
Leia studied him.
“That was a long time ago.”
He watched the children scrambling around the room.
“They’re having fun.”
“Are you sure?”
Han slowly turned his head toward her.
There it was.
Another warning.
“Why?”
Leia winced.
“Because there’s more.”
Han sat upright.
“More?”
She nodded.
“What, Fett came with the costumes?”
“Han.”
“Is he in the kitchen?”
“Of course not.”
“Waiting in the bedroom?”
“No.”
“With a carbon-freezing chamber?”
Leia made a face.
Han stopped.
“Why did you make that face?”
“I didn’t make a face.”
“You absolutely made a face.”
“Relax. The Sarlacc was fairly definitive.”
“Fairly?”
Leia patted his knee.
“Children.”
Three helmets turned toward them.
“Show Daddy what came with your costumes.”
Excited cries erupted.
“Oh!”
“Yeah!”
“I forgot!”
The children crowded around him.
Han braced himself.
One reached into a pouch.
“Look!”
The object was deposited proudly into Han’s palm.
Small.
Rectangular.
Gray.
Han squinted.
Recognition arrived approximately half a second before his child announced:
“It’s a man in carbonite!”
Han stared.
“See?”
The tiny molded figure wore an unmistakable expression of frozen agony.
Han’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“Look how funny he looks!”
Before either parent could intervene, all three children straightened.
Bent their elbows.
Raised their hands.
And simultaneously contorted their faces into open-mouthed grimaces.
Han stared at them.
Leia made a strangled sound beside him.
He wasn’t sure whether she was horrified or trying not to laugh.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “That’s enough.”
“But—”
“Costumes off.”
“Mom—”
“Jammies.”
A chorus of complaints followed.
Leia pointed toward the hallway.
“Go.”
Three tiny bounty hunters trudged away.
One of them was still practicing the carbonite pose.
Han fell back into the sofa.
His head hit the cushions.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Silence.
Then Leia leaned against him.
“You okay?”
Han lowered his hands.
He considered the question.
He had survived Imperial torture.
Carbon freezing.
Jabba.
The Sarlacc.
Marriage.
Children.
And now apparently becoming a novelty accessory packaged with a Boba Fett costume.
A laugh escaped him.
Leia smiled cautiously.
“Yeah.”
He pulled her against his side and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m all right.”
“Good.”
“But you owe me.”
Leia nodded solemnly.
“I assumed as much.”
Han looked at her.
“And you know I don’t like being in your debt.”
Something in her voice changed.
Han noticed immediately.
He drew back enough to see her face.
“Oh?”
Leia’s expression had become considerably less anxious.
Interesting.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
She shifted closer.
“Well...”
That word sounded much better this time.
Han waited.
“I may have bought one other costume while we were shopping.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You did.”
Leia nodded.
“For yourself?”
Another nod.
Han smiled.
“Now this story’s improving.”
She leaned toward his ear.
“Care to guess what the top-selling costume was?”
Han went still.
Then very slowly, he grinned.
“Princess.”
Leia pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
Han’s grin widened.
“Tell me you got the boots.”