Fic: Decorations
Title: Decorations
Character: Wes, Hobbie, Tycho, Wedge
Fandom: Star Wars
Word Count: 944
Rating: PG
Warnings Silliness, ahoy!
Disclaimer George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Summary: Wes decides to decorate for Yuletide, but Wedge will have none of it.
Author's Notes: Wes and I discussed several ideas before we landed on this one, and as I was hashing out the possibilities for recipients of his madness I realized that I had a running gag, and thus had a story. And for the curious, I named Wes and Hobbie's astromechs Frik and Frak several years ago on the recommendation of my darling WAAS sisters, after I asked for suggestions for a fic I was writing. This would be me, years later, still unable to come up with anything else. Thanks to swtcamden for the beta!
This one goes out to selinamoonfire. She asked for fic for Christmas, and I volunteered to write her some. And look! It's only a week late ^.^
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"Wedge isn't going to be terribly happy with you when he sees this," Hobbie groused, reluctantly handing Wes an antler. The two were in the hanger bay, surrounded by the squad's X-Wings. Wes was balanced precariously on top of one as he took the antler and guided it to the spot where the glue had been applied. His hands were less shaky now that he had completed five others before this one, and the routine was a familiar one: Wes would climb up, affix a large brown tuft of fur to the aft of the fighter and a large leathery cap to the nose while Hobbie dragged a set of antlers over to the craft. Hobbie would lift these up and Wes would glue them into place just behind the cockpit on either side of the canopy.
They only had six more to go after this antler was set into place, and their work at making sure the squadron was all set for Yuletide would be complete. Wes was particularly proud of this, and he began to hum a jaunty little festive piece as he waited for the glue to dry. Hobbie shifted uncomfortably as he waited on the ground, fully expectiing them...
"What the kriff are you two doing?!"
...to get caught. Hobbie sighed in soft exasperation. He knew this would happen. It always did, as much as Wes wanted to believe otherwise. He turned his ever-mournful gaze to Wedge as their CO stalked towards them sputtering. Wes looked up and smiled broadly.
"Hey, Wedge! We're decorating for Yuletide."
Wedge blinked, stared at Wes, looked at Hobbie - who merely shrugged helplessly - then turned back to Wes again. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Decorating," Wes repeated, "for Yuletide. We'll be reindeer, see?" he gestured to the made-up X-Wings.
Wedge squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take it down. All of it."
"But...!" Wes protested.
"Now." Wedge's tone stated the order was final.
Wes frowned with a sigh. He looked over his handy work sadly, his expression rivalling Hobbie's. His fingers wrapped around the newly affixed antler and tugged; the decoration wouldn't budge. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine."
Wedge nodded once and turned on his heel. As he neared the door, the words "Hobbie, go get me a vibro-saw..." drifted back to him, and he paused long enough to rest his head against the wall in mild horror for a brief moment before he fled the hanger bay to find some aspirin for a suddenly threatening headache. He really didn't want to know.
**
Several hours later, Wedge was heading down the hall to meet up with Tycho, datapad in hand and head down as he perused its contents. He had yet to go back to the hanger to see the damage done by Wes' attempts at removing his decorations, though he figured the techs would have commed him by now if anything had been damaged beyond recognition.
Thankfully, the rest of his morning had been uneventful, but he wasn't naive enough to think that Wes had been thwarted. It was only a matter of time before...the rapid beeps and whistles cut off his train of thought, and Wedge jumped out of the way of the fleeing astromech at the last second. The poor droid had a tuft of brown fur on its backside and was being followed by Wes.
"Oy! Get back here, Frik, it's only a little glue!" he yelled, brandishing a leathery patch that looked suspiciously like the ones he had stuck on the X-Wings.
Wedge grabbed the Major by the arm and stopped him short. "Absolutely not," he said, before Wes could say anything.
Wes's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he shrugged himself loose. "Frik, get back here so I can rip the tail off your butt!" Wes yelled, heading off after the astromech once more.
Wedge rolled his eyes and watched as Wes disappeared around the corner before heading off in the opposite direction.
**
They had finally done what Wes had set out to do earlier that day and were now sitting at their usual table in the sparsely populated mess hall.
"Here's to a job well done, my friend," Wes said, lounging in his chair and toasting Hobbie with his glass of fruit fizz. Hobbie didn't reciprocate. Wes frowned. "What?"
"Wedge is still going to kill you."
"All in good time, buddy," Wes said solemnly. "But he has to find them first. And by then, we'll be long gone."
Hobbie snorted as Tycho passed the table. The squad's XO nodded to them in a come-hither gesture. At Hobbie's questioning look, Tycho replied, "Squad inspection. All pilots in the hanger bay, full flight-uniform."
As Tycho left, both pilots stared after him.
"You were saying?" Hobbie stated simply, eyes not leaving the door in which Tycho had just recently disappeared through.
"Right. Well, no time like the present. Escape plan delta?"
"If you insist."
"I do."
"Very well, then."
The two beat a hasty retreat, not daring to go near the locker rooms.
**
Elsewhere, Tycho entered the locker room just as Wedge emerged from the change room. The CO's face was turning red with irritation, the colour clashing horridly with the orange flight-suit, and Tycho realized why as Wedge passed him and angrily slapped at the door controls. It was all Tycho could do to not dissolve into a fit of laughter as he caught sight of the brown tuft of fur stuck on the suit's backside and the antlers glued to the helmet hanging from Wedge's finger tips.
Tycho lost the battle, and his laughter erupted from him as Wedge stuck his head out the door and yelled, "JANSON!!!"
Character: Wes, Hobbie, Tycho, Wedge
Fandom: Star Wars
Word Count: 944
Rating: PG
Warnings Silliness, ahoy!
Disclaimer George Lucas owns Star Wars. Lucas is King. If he doesn't like me pilfering his characters, he can have his merchandise back.
Summary: Wes decides to decorate for Yuletide, but Wedge will have none of it.
Author's Notes: Wes and I discussed several ideas before we landed on this one, and as I was hashing out the possibilities for recipients of his madness I realized that I had a running gag, and thus had a story. And for the curious, I named Wes and Hobbie's astromechs Frik and Frak several years ago on the recommendation of my darling WAAS sisters, after I asked for suggestions for a fic I was writing. This would be me, years later, still unable to come up with anything else. Thanks to swtcamden for the beta!
This one goes out to selinamoonfire. She asked for fic for Christmas, and I volunteered to write her some. And look! It's only a week late ^.^
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"Wedge isn't going to be terribly happy with you when he sees this," Hobbie groused, reluctantly handing Wes an antler. The two were in the hanger bay, surrounded by the squad's X-Wings. Wes was balanced precariously on top of one as he took the antler and guided it to the spot where the glue had been applied. His hands were less shaky now that he had completed five others before this one, and the routine was a familiar one: Wes would climb up, affix a large brown tuft of fur to the aft of the fighter and a large leathery cap to the nose while Hobbie dragged a set of antlers over to the craft. Hobbie would lift these up and Wes would glue them into place just behind the cockpit on either side of the canopy.
They only had six more to go after this antler was set into place, and their work at making sure the squadron was all set for Yuletide would be complete. Wes was particularly proud of this, and he began to hum a jaunty little festive piece as he waited for the glue to dry. Hobbie shifted uncomfortably as he waited on the ground, fully expectiing them...
"What the kriff are you two doing?!"
...to get caught. Hobbie sighed in soft exasperation. He knew this would happen. It always did, as much as Wes wanted to believe otherwise. He turned his ever-mournful gaze to Wedge as their CO stalked towards them sputtering. Wes looked up and smiled broadly.
"Hey, Wedge! We're decorating for Yuletide."
Wedge blinked, stared at Wes, looked at Hobbie - who merely shrugged helplessly - then turned back to Wes again. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Decorating," Wes repeated, "for Yuletide. We'll be reindeer, see?" he gestured to the made-up X-Wings.
Wedge squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take it down. All of it."
"But...!" Wes protested.
"Now." Wedge's tone stated the order was final.
Wes frowned with a sigh. He looked over his handy work sadly, his expression rivalling Hobbie's. His fingers wrapped around the newly affixed antler and tugged; the decoration wouldn't budge. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine."
Wedge nodded once and turned on his heel. As he neared the door, the words "Hobbie, go get me a vibro-saw..." drifted back to him, and he paused long enough to rest his head against the wall in mild horror for a brief moment before he fled the hanger bay to find some aspirin for a suddenly threatening headache. He really didn't want to know.
**
Several hours later, Wedge was heading down the hall to meet up with Tycho, datapad in hand and head down as he perused its contents. He had yet to go back to the hanger to see the damage done by Wes' attempts at removing his decorations, though he figured the techs would have commed him by now if anything had been damaged beyond recognition.
Thankfully, the rest of his morning had been uneventful, but he wasn't naive enough to think that Wes had been thwarted. It was only a matter of time before...the rapid beeps and whistles cut off his train of thought, and Wedge jumped out of the way of the fleeing astromech at the last second. The poor droid had a tuft of brown fur on its backside and was being followed by Wes.
"Oy! Get back here, Frik, it's only a little glue!" he yelled, brandishing a leathery patch that looked suspiciously like the ones he had stuck on the X-Wings.
Wedge grabbed the Major by the arm and stopped him short. "Absolutely not," he said, before Wes could say anything.
Wes's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he shrugged himself loose. "Frik, get back here so I can rip the tail off your butt!" Wes yelled, heading off after the astromech once more.
Wedge rolled his eyes and watched as Wes disappeared around the corner before heading off in the opposite direction.
**
They had finally done what Wes had set out to do earlier that day and were now sitting at their usual table in the sparsely populated mess hall.
"Here's to a job well done, my friend," Wes said, lounging in his chair and toasting Hobbie with his glass of fruit fizz. Hobbie didn't reciprocate. Wes frowned. "What?"
"Wedge is still going to kill you."
"All in good time, buddy," Wes said solemnly. "But he has to find them first. And by then, we'll be long gone."
Hobbie snorted as Tycho passed the table. The squad's XO nodded to them in a come-hither gesture. At Hobbie's questioning look, Tycho replied, "Squad inspection. All pilots in the hanger bay, full flight-uniform."
As Tycho left, both pilots stared after him.
"You were saying?" Hobbie stated simply, eyes not leaving the door in which Tycho had just recently disappeared through.
"Right. Well, no time like the present. Escape plan delta?"
"If you insist."
"I do."
"Very well, then."
The two beat a hasty retreat, not daring to go near the locker rooms.
**
Elsewhere, Tycho entered the locker room just as Wedge emerged from the change room. The CO's face was turning red with irritation, the colour clashing horridly with the orange flight-suit, and Tycho realized why as Wedge passed him and angrily slapped at the door controls. It was all Tycho could do to not dissolve into a fit of laughter as he caught sight of the brown tuft of fur stuck on the suit's backside and the antlers glued to the helmet hanging from Wedge's finger tips.
Tycho lost the battle, and his laughter erupted from him as Wedge stuck his head out the door and yelled, "JANSON!!!"