Romantik/Intimität - verwählt (fürs Team)
Team: Mond
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität: verwählt (fürs Team - Weltherrschaft!)
Fandom: Star Wars
Charaktere: the Fab Four (Wes Janson, Tycho Celchu, Hobbie Klivian, Wedge Antilles)
Wörter: ~450
A/N: Ich zitiere nyx-chan: “OPFER WEDGE AUF DEM MONDALTAR“
…Ich befolge hier nur Anweisungen.
“Rogue Twelve, alive and well!” At the final confirmation, Wes let out a breath he hadn’t known he'd been holding.
“Well done, boys and girls!” he cheered. “Let’s get home as fast as possible.”
“Thank you, Rogue Three.” The static couldn’t disguise the amusement in Wedge’s admonition. “But I whole-heartedly agree with the sentiment. Let’s go home, grab a few glasses of Whyren’s reserve and never talk about moon worshipping cults ever again. Please.” The ‘or else’ was heavily implied.
Tycho announced that he would send out their exit vector and the hyperspace coordinates as soon as the calculations were finalised and Wes switched his comm to a private channel. “So, a moon worshipping cult, Celchu? How did that one happen?”
“Oh, bugger off, Janson.”
“No, seriously, I miss all the fun! Is it true that they stripped down the boss? How come he’s prancing around naked while I’m tasked with covering your retreat?”
Tycho snorted. “Well, I think it’s because he likes me more than you. And, full disclosure, there wasn’t that much prancing, more being tied to an altar and almost being sacrificed to an alien goddess…”
“But he was naked?”
“Wes, seriously?” That was Hobbie, desperately trying - and failing - to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Tycho had long given up pretences and his smirk was audible even over the faint static. “Stark naked.”
“Tell me you took pictures.” It really was unfair. Wes would pay good money for pictures or maybe a holo vid…
Another snort. “Well, I was kind of busy with being strapped to that same altar, so… regretfully, no.”
“Damn. I think I’ve had a dream like that before.”
“Wes! I did not need to know that!” Hobbie made a gagging sound. “But, yeah, that image’s definitely going to keep me company in many a lonely night.”
“You are disgusting, guys,” Tycho administered, every ounce the responsible second in command. “Also, your imagination will never come close to the real deal. Have I mentioned there was sacred oils involved? Because there was sacred oils involved.”
Wes tried very, very hard not to imagine that. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, Wes.” The voice sounded a whole lot less amused. And also like… Wedge? “And you do realise that you are having this conversation over the squadron channel, right?”
Sithspit. Wes pulled a face. “Sorry, boss.”
“Stop the chatter, Rogue Three. Two, how are the calculations coming along?”
“Just checked them, sending out the coordinates.” Tycho did a marvellous job of sounding only lightly embarrassed.
“Thank you, Two. See you guys at the rendezvous point. Rogue Leader out.”
An orange light blinked on Wes console, signalling a private channel being opened.
“Wes?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Tycho forgot to mention that there was silver glitter in the sacred oils.”
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität: verwählt (fürs Team - Weltherrschaft!)
Fandom: Star Wars
Charaktere: the Fab Four (Wes Janson, Tycho Celchu, Hobbie Klivian, Wedge Antilles)
Wörter: ~450
A/N: Ich zitiere nyx-chan: “OPFER WEDGE AUF DEM MONDALTAR“
…Ich befolge hier nur Anweisungen.
“Rogue Twelve, alive and well!” At the final confirmation, Wes let out a breath he hadn’t known he'd been holding.
“Well done, boys and girls!” he cheered. “Let’s get home as fast as possible.”
“Thank you, Rogue Three.” The static couldn’t disguise the amusement in Wedge’s admonition. “But I whole-heartedly agree with the sentiment. Let’s go home, grab a few glasses of Whyren’s reserve and never talk about moon worshipping cults ever again. Please.” The ‘or else’ was heavily implied.
Tycho announced that he would send out their exit vector and the hyperspace coordinates as soon as the calculations were finalised and Wes switched his comm to a private channel. “So, a moon worshipping cult, Celchu? How did that one happen?”
“Oh, bugger off, Janson.”
“No, seriously, I miss all the fun! Is it true that they stripped down the boss? How come he’s prancing around naked while I’m tasked with covering your retreat?”
Tycho snorted. “Well, I think it’s because he likes me more than you. And, full disclosure, there wasn’t that much prancing, more being tied to an altar and almost being sacrificed to an alien goddess…”
“But he was naked?”
“Wes, seriously?” That was Hobbie, desperately trying - and failing - to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Tycho had long given up pretences and his smirk was audible even over the faint static. “Stark naked.”
“Tell me you took pictures.” It really was unfair. Wes would pay good money for pictures or maybe a holo vid…
Another snort. “Well, I was kind of busy with being strapped to that same altar, so… regretfully, no.”
“Damn. I think I’ve had a dream like that before.”
“Wes! I did not need to know that!” Hobbie made a gagging sound. “But, yeah, that image’s definitely going to keep me company in many a lonely night.”
“You are disgusting, guys,” Tycho administered, every ounce the responsible second in command. “Also, your imagination will never come close to the real deal. Have I mentioned there was sacred oils involved? Because there was sacred oils involved.”
Wes tried very, very hard not to imagine that. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, Wes.” The voice sounded a whole lot less amused. And also like… Wedge? “And you do realise that you are having this conversation over the squadron channel, right?”
Sithspit. Wes pulled a face. “Sorry, boss.”
“Stop the chatter, Rogue Three. Two, how are the calculations coming along?”
“Just checked them, sending out the coordinates.” Tycho did a marvellous job of sounding only lightly embarrassed.
“Thank you, Two. See you guys at the rendezvous point. Rogue Leader out.”
An orange light blinked on Wes console, signalling a private channel being opened.
“Wes?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Tycho forgot to mention that there was silver glitter in the sacred oils.”