Fic-A-Thon 2013: The Tuxedo Incident
Title: The Tuxedo Incident
Characters:Wes, Wedge, Hobbie, Luke, Han
Prompts: Popcorn, New Shoes, Medical Droids
Word Count: 1,142
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Warning: Absurdness and non-beta'd material ahead.
Summary: Wes and Hobbie: The Early Years. That's all I'm saying.
Author Note: These prompts spawned the setting for this after about 5 minutes of getting them. I mess with the timing of events a bit, but hey. Everyone likes a bit of fluidity to their space-time.
This one goes out to bitwhizzle. I did what I could :)
-----
"This is nice," Hobbie said, contemplating a handful of popped maize.
"I told you so," Wes replied around a mouthful of the treat.
The silence that fell between them was filled only by the crunch of the snack and the quiet drone of medical equipment. Wes and Hobbie had become friends during the days leading up to the Battle of Yavin, having been bunkmates with a shared illness that had kept them both from the battle. Together they moved through the strange world of survivor's guilt, as both pilots felt terrible for not being able to be with their friends and fellow Rebels during such a decisive and important battle.
They had bonded over shared memories, and several shared interests; but most of all, Wes found in Hobbie someone who would entertain his wild and crazy schemes and ideas, and Hobbie had found in Wes someone who would put up with his morose nature.
When Rogue Squadron was formed, and the pair had been recruited, Luke quickly discovered that keeping Wes and Hobbie together helped in maintaining some semblance of order. Although the pair sometimes needed to be split up to better serve a mission's needs, which ended up bringing Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu into the fold, the quintet quickly became the backbone of the squad. The five pilots had become good friends, though none could compare to the friendship that was shared by Wes and Hobbie. It was rumoured that the two had even shared a pair of new combat boots because Luke couldn't take their "No, no, you take them, I insist" round-robin.
After the defeat at Chandrila, which had followed closely on the heels of Yavin, and the seemingly countless other missions that came after it, the entire Rebel Alliance had relocated to the ice-world, Hoth; they had only been on-planet for several months, but the chatter around base seemed to indicate that they'd be moving soon. The count on how long it would take the Empire to track them down had been reset in the betting pools, and it was guaranteed that the higher-ups were expecting at least a Star Destroyer or two to drop out of hyperspace onto their heads any day now.
This information came by the lucky discovery by Han Solo, during his and Luke's most recent recon of the planet. Of course, Han returned to base without Skywalker in tow, and a rescue-op was quickly formed.
This was how the two pilots came to be sitting in Echo Base's medical ward, eating popped maize. In front of them bobbed Luke, currently tinted pink by the bacta filling the tank. Neither Wes nor Hobbie were injured, however, and the visit was more of a social call for their currently unconscious CO. At length, Hobbie finally spoke.
"Do you do this every time I..."
"Yes," Wes responded, cutting him off.
"You're a bastard," Hobbie declared matter-of-factly. He tossed another handful of maize into his mouth and crunched thoughtfully.
"You're just figuring this out?" Wes asked, raising a brow.
"No, just restating fact."
"Okay then."
Silence fell again, but not for long. "So," Hobbie said, "what do you think happened to him?"
"I have a theory."
"You usually do."
"If you don't want to hear it..." Wes trailed off with a vague hand gesture.
"No, no. Please. By all means. Regale me."
"He was dragged half-way across the tundra and then mauled by his tauntaun."
Hobbie blinked. "Why on earth would his tauntaun do that?"
"How should I know? We just showed up on this planet and started putting them into service. I know I'd be pissed if someone did that to me."
"Isn't that why we're fighting this rebellion in the first place?" Hobbie asked. "Because Imperials plopped down on our planets and pressed us into service for them?"
"I suppose so." Wes looked at the bacta tank thoughtfully. The moment had grown too heavy for him, so he brushed his hands off and started to gather his things. Hobbie watched him for a moment or two.
"Where are you going?"
"Once again, you've managed to kill the mood. I'm going to resuscitate it."
Hobbie's eyes went wide as he caught the gleam in his friend's eye. "Oh no. No, no, no. I'm not doing..."
"You don't even know what it is yet." Wes pouted.
"I don't have to know what it is to know that we're going to get..."
"We're not going to get into trouble, because we're not going to get caught."
Hobbie sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "That's what you said last time."
**
Wedge was walking down the hall towards the medical bay when he heard a string of Corellian expletives ricochet off the hard-packed snow. The young pilot slowed as Captain Solo exploded into the hallway from the med bay, anger playing over his features. When he saw Wedge, the younger pilot stopped in his tracks, and waited to see what would happen.
Solo stalked towards Wedge until he was a foot away. "Where. Are. They?" he demanded through clenched teeth.
"Where are who?" Wedge asked, eyebrows raising in curiosity. He felt a pang of sympathy for whomever had incurred the wrath of the good captain.
"Janson and Klivian. Med droids said they were the last ones to leave the bay. Where are they?"
The sympathy that had been blossoming within Wedge's breast popped and fizzled into nothingness at the mention of Wes and Hobbie. He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. You know how good they are at hiding, especially when they don't want to be found."
Solo growled and pushed past the pilot and continued his hunt for the two trouble-makers. Wedge watched until the captain had disappeared around a corner, then turned on his heel and jogged the rest of the way to the med bay.
He came to a stop just inside the threshold as his jaw dropped. He rubbed at his eyes and peered at the sight before him: Luke's bacta tank was no longer the pristine tube of glass. Wes and Hobbie had used...something, Wedge couldn't tell what it was and he frankly didn't want to know...to draw a tuxedo on the glass to cover up much of Luke's body. They had managed to incorporate the medical equipment that covered Luke's body into the suit's design, and the effect was remarkable to say the least.
Wedge facepalmed; if Wes and Hobbie survived Solo's wrath at the harmless prank, he'd congratulate them on their artistic flair and suggest they change occupations from fighter pilots to clothing designers. With a sigh and trying hard to suppress a grin, Wedge set out to get the tank cleaned off before Solo got back. He looked forward to hearing Wes and Hobbie's side of the story someday, and filed the prank away in his memory for future reference.
Characters:Wes, Wedge, Hobbie, Luke, Han
Prompts: Popcorn, New Shoes, Medical Droids
Word Count: 1,142
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Warning: Absurdness and non-beta'd material ahead.
Summary: Wes and Hobbie: The Early Years. That's all I'm saying.
Author Note: These prompts spawned the setting for this after about 5 minutes of getting them. I mess with the timing of events a bit, but hey. Everyone likes a bit of fluidity to their space-time.
This one goes out to bitwhizzle. I did what I could :)
-----
"This is nice," Hobbie said, contemplating a handful of popped maize.
"I told you so," Wes replied around a mouthful of the treat.
The silence that fell between them was filled only by the crunch of the snack and the quiet drone of medical equipment. Wes and Hobbie had become friends during the days leading up to the Battle of Yavin, having been bunkmates with a shared illness that had kept them both from the battle. Together they moved through the strange world of survivor's guilt, as both pilots felt terrible for not being able to be with their friends and fellow Rebels during such a decisive and important battle.
They had bonded over shared memories, and several shared interests; but most of all, Wes found in Hobbie someone who would entertain his wild and crazy schemes and ideas, and Hobbie had found in Wes someone who would put up with his morose nature.
When Rogue Squadron was formed, and the pair had been recruited, Luke quickly discovered that keeping Wes and Hobbie together helped in maintaining some semblance of order. Although the pair sometimes needed to be split up to better serve a mission's needs, which ended up bringing Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu into the fold, the quintet quickly became the backbone of the squad. The five pilots had become good friends, though none could compare to the friendship that was shared by Wes and Hobbie. It was rumoured that the two had even shared a pair of new combat boots because Luke couldn't take their "No, no, you take them, I insist" round-robin.
After the defeat at Chandrila, which had followed closely on the heels of Yavin, and the seemingly countless other missions that came after it, the entire Rebel Alliance had relocated to the ice-world, Hoth; they had only been on-planet for several months, but the chatter around base seemed to indicate that they'd be moving soon. The count on how long it would take the Empire to track them down had been reset in the betting pools, and it was guaranteed that the higher-ups were expecting at least a Star Destroyer or two to drop out of hyperspace onto their heads any day now.
This information came by the lucky discovery by Han Solo, during his and Luke's most recent recon of the planet. Of course, Han returned to base without Skywalker in tow, and a rescue-op was quickly formed.
This was how the two pilots came to be sitting in Echo Base's medical ward, eating popped maize. In front of them bobbed Luke, currently tinted pink by the bacta filling the tank. Neither Wes nor Hobbie were injured, however, and the visit was more of a social call for their currently unconscious CO. At length, Hobbie finally spoke.
"Do you do this every time I..."
"Yes," Wes responded, cutting him off.
"You're a bastard," Hobbie declared matter-of-factly. He tossed another handful of maize into his mouth and crunched thoughtfully.
"You're just figuring this out?" Wes asked, raising a brow.
"No, just restating fact."
"Okay then."
Silence fell again, but not for long. "So," Hobbie said, "what do you think happened to him?"
"I have a theory."
"You usually do."
"If you don't want to hear it..." Wes trailed off with a vague hand gesture.
"No, no. Please. By all means. Regale me."
"He was dragged half-way across the tundra and then mauled by his tauntaun."
Hobbie blinked. "Why on earth would his tauntaun do that?"
"How should I know? We just showed up on this planet and started putting them into service. I know I'd be pissed if someone did that to me."
"Isn't that why we're fighting this rebellion in the first place?" Hobbie asked. "Because Imperials plopped down on our planets and pressed us into service for them?"
"I suppose so." Wes looked at the bacta tank thoughtfully. The moment had grown too heavy for him, so he brushed his hands off and started to gather his things. Hobbie watched him for a moment or two.
"Where are you going?"
"Once again, you've managed to kill the mood. I'm going to resuscitate it."
Hobbie's eyes went wide as he caught the gleam in his friend's eye. "Oh no. No, no, no. I'm not doing..."
"You don't even know what it is yet." Wes pouted.
"I don't have to know what it is to know that we're going to get..."
"We're not going to get into trouble, because we're not going to get caught."
Hobbie sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "That's what you said last time."
**
Wedge was walking down the hall towards the medical bay when he heard a string of Corellian expletives ricochet off the hard-packed snow. The young pilot slowed as Captain Solo exploded into the hallway from the med bay, anger playing over his features. When he saw Wedge, the younger pilot stopped in his tracks, and waited to see what would happen.
Solo stalked towards Wedge until he was a foot away. "Where. Are. They?" he demanded through clenched teeth.
"Where are who?" Wedge asked, eyebrows raising in curiosity. He felt a pang of sympathy for whomever had incurred the wrath of the good captain.
"Janson and Klivian. Med droids said they were the last ones to leave the bay. Where are they?"
The sympathy that had been blossoming within Wedge's breast popped and fizzled into nothingness at the mention of Wes and Hobbie. He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. You know how good they are at hiding, especially when they don't want to be found."
Solo growled and pushed past the pilot and continued his hunt for the two trouble-makers. Wedge watched until the captain had disappeared around a corner, then turned on his heel and jogged the rest of the way to the med bay.
He came to a stop just inside the threshold as his jaw dropped. He rubbed at his eyes and peered at the sight before him: Luke's bacta tank was no longer the pristine tube of glass. Wes and Hobbie had used...something, Wedge couldn't tell what it was and he frankly didn't want to know...to draw a tuxedo on the glass to cover up much of Luke's body. They had managed to incorporate the medical equipment that covered Luke's body into the suit's design, and the effect was remarkable to say the least.
Wedge facepalmed; if Wes and Hobbie survived Solo's wrath at the harmless prank, he'd congratulate them on their artistic flair and suggest they change occupations from fighter pilots to clothing designers. With a sigh and trying hard to suppress a grin, Wedge set out to get the tank cleaned off before Solo got back. He looked forward to hearing Wes and Hobbie's side of the story someday, and filed the prank away in his memory for future reference.