[Star Wars: Fiction] "Drinking Age" [PG]
Title: Drinking Age
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: PG
Word Count: 762
For: nonbender7 in the wraithsquadron ficathon
Prompts: Face Loran films, "he tells it better", Whyren's Reserve
Character(s): Wedge Antilles, Corran Horn
Pairing(s): Wedge/Iella, Corran/Mirax
Summary: "Are we drinking because we're old?"
Drinking Age
There was absolutely nothing to do.
Wedge stared around the apartment and took a deep breath. He'd told Iella he'd be fine by himself for the afternoon while she and Myri went shopping, but now he was starting to wonder.
Syal had flight training, and she would be gone until the next day. Tycho and Winter were visiting some of the Alderaanian groups in the Middle Rim for the next few weeks. Even Janson and Hobbie were off somewhere- Wedge didn't know where exactly, but they kept sending him those tacky pre-recorded holo images with the message 'having more fun than you'.
He took another deep breath. There was really nothing to do.
The apartment was clean, to Iella's standards, even. There were no more messages to read, not even from the wandering idiots he called friends. And with both Rogue and Wraith Squadrons out doing maneuvers, he couldn't even drop by the hangar while he was 'in the neighborhood'.
Suddenly, the chime on the front door sounded. Wedge wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at the interruption or grateful for the distraction- he decided on surprised-but-pleased when he answered.
"Corran! What are you doing here?"
The smaller man shifted somewhat nervously, hiding something behind his back. "Hey, Wedge," he said. "You busy?"
"Um..."
"Is Iella home?"
"No, she's gone shopping-"
"Great!" said Corran, stepping past him into the apartment.
"Yes," said Wedge dryly. "Come on in and- is that whiskey?"
Corran held up the bottle he'd been hiding. "Whyren's Reserve. Got any glasses?"
Wedge waved him into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from a cabinet. "Is there a reason we're drinking?" he asked.
His friend poured a generous splash of whiskey into each glass. "Nope."
"Okay, then."
*
Neither of them could hold their liquor like they used to.
Which was, of course, deeply disturbing to them, both as pilots and Corellians, so they compensated by drinking just a bit more, with the end result that they were both more than a bit intoxicated.
"C'mon, Corran," said Wedge- like any good Corellian, he sounded completely sober, even when he wasn't- leaning forward with his elbows braced on the kitchen table. "Why are we drinking?"
The shorter man poured them each another shot, and frowned. "Do you know where Jysella is, right now?"
Wedge frowned, too, and it took him a moment to remember. "Yes, I do know. She's out on flight training with Syal."
"Yes," said Corran slowly. "Our daughters are out doing flight training. Our daughters are not just off somewhere flying X-Wings, they're teaching other people how to fly."
"Are we drinking because we're old?"
"No," said Corran, entirely unconvincingly.
Wedge slid the bottle of whiskey across the table, away from his friend. "Look, Corran, there's nothing wrong with being-"
Corran raised one eyebrow, dubiously.
"You know what?" asked Wedge, changing tactics. "We're not old. We can still fly circles around any of these kids, including our own. We could still... still..."
"Fly a speeder through the gardens of the Imperial Palace?"
"Exactly! We could so still do that!"
*
"I'm gonna kill you," Wedge muttered, head in his hands and elbows braced on his knees.
Across the cell, Corran mirrored his pose, looking just as miserable. "What? This was your idea."
"Like hell." There was a pause. "Kinda fun, though."
"Yeah," Corran agreed. "Except, it's about not to be."
Wedge looked up sharply to see two familiar figures approaching. "I take that back. I won't have to kill you- Mirax will do it for me."
"She just might," said Mirax, stopping just outside what the officers of the Coruscant Security Force called the 'drunk tank'. She crossed her arms, expression as dark as either man had ever seen it. "At what point could it have possibly seemed like a good idea to get that drunk, then attempt to recreate a scene from one of Face Loran's holo-dramas?"
"Ask him," said Corran. "He tells it better."
"Hey!" protested Wedge, then winced as the volume of his own voice made his head throb, then continued more softly, "you promised you wouldn't mention that."
Iella grinned. "Oh, don't worry. The sergeant on duty already gave us the holo of your booking."
The duty sergeant arrived at that moment, grinning broadly, and opened the cell door. "The ladies paid your bail," he said. "You're free to go."
Wedge winced again as Iella hauled him unceremoniously to his feet, leaning heavily against her shoulder. "We're never going to live this down, are we?"
His wife grinned. "Not a chance, flyboy."
THE END
Current Mood:
cranky
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: PG
Word Count: 762
For: nonbender7 in the wraithsquadron ficathon
Prompts: Face Loran films, "he tells it better", Whyren's Reserve
Character(s): Wedge Antilles, Corran Horn
Pairing(s): Wedge/Iella, Corran/Mirax
Summary: "Are we drinking because we're old?"
Drinking Age
There was absolutely nothing to do.
Wedge stared around the apartment and took a deep breath. He'd told Iella he'd be fine by himself for the afternoon while she and Myri went shopping, but now he was starting to wonder.
Syal had flight training, and she would be gone until the next day. Tycho and Winter were visiting some of the Alderaanian groups in the Middle Rim for the next few weeks. Even Janson and Hobbie were off somewhere- Wedge didn't know where exactly, but they kept sending him those tacky pre-recorded holo images with the message 'having more fun than you'.
He took another deep breath. There was really nothing to do.
The apartment was clean, to Iella's standards, even. There were no more messages to read, not even from the wandering idiots he called friends. And with both Rogue and Wraith Squadrons out doing maneuvers, he couldn't even drop by the hangar while he was 'in the neighborhood'.
Suddenly, the chime on the front door sounded. Wedge wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at the interruption or grateful for the distraction- he decided on surprised-but-pleased when he answered.
"Corran! What are you doing here?"
The smaller man shifted somewhat nervously, hiding something behind his back. "Hey, Wedge," he said. "You busy?"
"Um..."
"Is Iella home?"
"No, she's gone shopping-"
"Great!" said Corran, stepping past him into the apartment.
"Yes," said Wedge dryly. "Come on in and- is that whiskey?"
Corran held up the bottle he'd been hiding. "Whyren's Reserve. Got any glasses?"
Wedge waved him into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from a cabinet. "Is there a reason we're drinking?" he asked.
His friend poured a generous splash of whiskey into each glass. "Nope."
"Okay, then."
*
Neither of them could hold their liquor like they used to.
Which was, of course, deeply disturbing to them, both as pilots and Corellians, so they compensated by drinking just a bit more, with the end result that they were both more than a bit intoxicated.
"C'mon, Corran," said Wedge- like any good Corellian, he sounded completely sober, even when he wasn't- leaning forward with his elbows braced on the kitchen table. "Why are we drinking?"
The shorter man poured them each another shot, and frowned. "Do you know where Jysella is, right now?"
Wedge frowned, too, and it took him a moment to remember. "Yes, I do know. She's out on flight training with Syal."
"Yes," said Corran slowly. "Our daughters are out doing flight training. Our daughters are not just off somewhere flying X-Wings, they're teaching other people how to fly."
"Are we drinking because we're old?"
"No," said Corran, entirely unconvincingly.
Wedge slid the bottle of whiskey across the table, away from his friend. "Look, Corran, there's nothing wrong with being-"
Corran raised one eyebrow, dubiously.
"You know what?" asked Wedge, changing tactics. "We're not old. We can still fly circles around any of these kids, including our own. We could still... still..."
"Fly a speeder through the gardens of the Imperial Palace?"
"Exactly! We could so still do that!"
*
"I'm gonna kill you," Wedge muttered, head in his hands and elbows braced on his knees.
Across the cell, Corran mirrored his pose, looking just as miserable. "What? This was your idea."
"Like hell." There was a pause. "Kinda fun, though."
"Yeah," Corran agreed. "Except, it's about not to be."
Wedge looked up sharply to see two familiar figures approaching. "I take that back. I won't have to kill you- Mirax will do it for me."
"She just might," said Mirax, stopping just outside what the officers of the Coruscant Security Force called the 'drunk tank'. She crossed her arms, expression as dark as either man had ever seen it. "At what point could it have possibly seemed like a good idea to get that drunk, then attempt to recreate a scene from one of Face Loran's holo-dramas?"
"Ask him," said Corran. "He tells it better."
"Hey!" protested Wedge, then winced as the volume of his own voice made his head throb, then continued more softly, "you promised you wouldn't mention that."
Iella grinned. "Oh, don't worry. The sergeant on duty already gave us the holo of your booking."
The duty sergeant arrived at that moment, grinning broadly, and opened the cell door. "The ladies paid your bail," he said. "You're free to go."
Wedge winced again as Iella hauled him unceremoniously to his feet, leaning heavily against her shoulder. "We're never going to live this down, are we?"
His wife grinned. "Not a chance, flyboy."
THE END
Current Mood:
cranky