(no subject)
Title: This Is Not A Story About Hobbie's Mom
Author: izzybeth
Rating: G as G can be
Disclaimer: As much as he ruined my childhood no I'm still not over it, all characters belong to George Lucas. At least I get to play with them.
Summary: "Hobbie's Other Life"
Notes: Written for otahyoni in the 2010 Rogues And Wraiths Ficathon. Late, I know, and I'm so sorry! Set sometime after Requiem and before Mandatory Retirement, but it doesn't really matter. Spoilery notes are whited out; highlight to read --> All poetry quoted herein is not mine. It's all by some guy called William Shakespeare, you may have heard of him. In any case, I cribbed off him because I cannot write poetry (but apparently Hobbie can). Quoted in order: Sonnet 8, Sonnet 18, Sonnet 65, Twelfth Night III i, 18 again, Sonnet 116, Sonnet 46, Sonnet 38. Also one piece of dialogue yoinked from Serenity. It was too perfect.
Wes has about a ten minute window before he knows Hobbie will decide the food in the mess is actually slightly worse than it had been yesterday, and he comes back to his quarters for the cookie stash under his mattress. Wes helps himself to a couple and gets down to business. His plan involves spacer's tape, dry ice, and Hobbie's underwear, and ten minutes is not a very long time.
He digs through his friend's foot locker until he uncovers a small case containing Hobbie's datapad and collection of cards. "Ooh. Hobbs, it's like you don't trust me or something." The datapad lights up in Wes's hand, and lines of text stream down the screen. Wes tilts the pad to one side. Hobbie had, indeed, left a card in the slot when he'd put it away last. Wes almost pops the card out when a phrase on the screen catches his eye.
"Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?, what the hell?" It looks like some sort of poetry to Wes. "Didn't know you were into that, my friend." Wes skims down to what appears to be the end of the poem. Below it are the letters 'DK'.
"No way. Oh, no way, man!" Wes doesn't know whether to be utterly appalled, or to laugh himself sick. He decides to go with laughing because that's usually more fun.
"Speaking of which..." He grins as another idea hits him. Abandoning the dry ice and underwear plan entirely, Wes rummages in his pockets for a spare datacard, and copies everything from Hobbie's card onto his. Oh yeah, this was gonna be good.
---
TO: "T.Celchu", "P.Ilo", "F.Ardele", "K.Komad", "Ibtisam", "N.Vakil", "A.Beruss", "X.Huwla"
FROM: "W.Janson"
SUBJ: YOUR EYES ONLY!!!!
Guys. Check this out. It appears our Hobbie has been keeping secrets from his very bestest pals. I'm speechless. I really am.
ATTACHMENT: youllneverguess.txt
---
Two cookies are missing, and Hobbie knows exactly who to blame for it. He wanders through the base, plotting how to exact his revenge. His mom sent him those cookies. Not only are they amazing, they made it mostly intact from Ralltiir, and Hobbie does not take their loss lightly.
He makes a shortcut through the back of the hangar, and waves at Koyi. She waves back with a look on her face that says 'I am barely holding back ridiculous giggles, and I can't tell you why.'
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing! Injoke!" Koyi snorts and turns back to her tools. Her lekku twitch with suppressed laughter. Hobbie raises an eyebrow and continues toward the rec room.
He passes Feylis and Avan in the corridor, and he almost says hello, but notices they're far too wrapped up in each other to be aware of anything else around them. As they pass, Avan whispers something in Feylis's ear, which sounds a lot like "Thou art more lovely and more temperate." Hobbie spins around and narrows his eyes at the pair's receding backs. Did Avan just...? Nah. Impossible. Though Feylis did laugh a little...
Voices from the rec room increase as he nears it, and Hobbie enters the room to see Nrin, Ibtisam, Plourr, Xarcce, and Tycho deep in discussion at a table, a sabacc game forgotten in front of them but for their using the cards to gesticulate. Tycho looks up, sees Hobbie, and they all stop speaking abruptly. Hobbie frowns.
"Hey. What's up?"
"Nothing, Hobbs," Tycho says. He seems to notice his hand of cards for the first time. "Uh, shall we deal you in?"
"No thanks." Hobbie leans against the doorframe. "So what were you talking about?" The other pilots look everywhere but at him. "What, it's a secret? What are you planning? Should I start wearing a helmet indoors or something?"
"Of course not, don't be ridiculous," says Nrin. "We're not plotting against you. However, I did want to discuss your use of metaphor in Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless--" At that moment, Ib whacks him with a huge webbed hand and Nrin lets out a yelp. "Ouch!"
"Shut up!" Ib hisses, quite unsubtly.
Hobbie's frown deepens into a scowl. "I haven't been imagining it, have I?"
"You probably have, whatever 'it' is," says Plourr, idly examining her sabacc hand. "Idiot's Array."
The other four toss their cards down in disgust. "Thank you for making game interesting, Plourr."
"Hey, I didn't want to waste anyone's time. But thank you for that example of Tunroth sarcasm, Xarcce." Plourr gathers up her winnings, smirks at Hobbie, and leaves.
Hobbie glares at her, then at Ib, Xarcce, Tycho, and Nrin. "Metaphor. Right." He glimpses Ib elbow Nrin in the side and mutter something as he exits, but that doesn't matter. His squadmates may all be cheerful accomplices to his humiliation, but he knows exactly who the evil mastermind is.
---
Wes looks up just in time to see Hobbie actually shove a protocol droid out of his way and storm across the hangar toward Wedge's office. Oh no. Oh sith. "Hobbie!"
"What?" Hobbie is obviously angry, maybe more than Wes has ever seen him before. "Are you going to quote at me too?"
Wes put his hands up. "No, I--"
"Because hang on, here's one for you: This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, and to do that craves a kind of wit." Koyi pokes her head out from behind a starfighter to see what's going on, and other pilots drop what they're doing to watch. "This is a new low, Wes. I'd fully expect you to do something juvenile with my underwear or something, but this is just-- mean." Hobbie steps toward Wes, and Wes backs up into a heavy storage unit. It thuds. Hobbie pins him there with a look. "I didn't know you were capable of mean, Wes. Immature, sure; stupid, absolutely, but not mean. But hey, turns out there's always something you don't know about your best friend."
"Hobbie--"
"No, Wes. I don't want to hear it right now. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone for, say, the next three years or so." Wes cringes as Hobbie turns away. Hobbie's shoulders stiffen when he sees the rest of the squadron, plus a few techs, staring openmouthed at his display.
"Hobbie, what's going on?" Wedge stands in the open doorway of his office wearing his Stern Commander face.
"Nothing. Sorry, Wedge."
"Actually, Wedge, he's lying." Wes pushes past Hobbie to stand in front of Wedge. "I was looking around in his stuff; I had this sweet plan, right, and I needed his underwear and some dry ice--" Wedge makes an impatient 'get on with it' gesture. "Yeah, so I found Hobbie's datapad, and it still had a card in it, and I read what was on there and thought it was pretty funny, so I sent it to everyone else."
Wedge nodded, and looked over Wes's shoulder at Hobbie. "I knew they'd find out about it sooner or later. I've been telling you for ages to let everyone read them."
"Yeah, and look how well that turned out." Hobbie shoves his hands into his pockets and sighs.
"Actually," says Avan, standing at the back of the knot of people, "I thought they were pretty good. Especially the Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? one." He tucks a stray lock of Feylis's hair behind her ear and grins at her.
Feylis grins back. "And the Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments one. Very nice."
Hobbie raises a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Had no idea you were such a romantic, Hobbs," Tycho says, a sincere smile on his face.
"I would truly enjoy conversing with you regarding your literary devices and stylistic choices," says Nrin. "That wasn't a joke."
"Wait. Wait wait wait." Wes stares at Wedge. "You knew about them?"
Wedge looks at Hobbie, who shrugged a 'go ahead'. "Well, yeah. A year or so ago, he wanted someone to give them a read-through, and was a little worried about what you would think--" Wedge paused to frown at Wes, who colored slightly, "--so he asked me. Although, some of them, I don't know." Wedge makes a face at Hobbie. "Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war has some weird judicial imagery that's hard to understand, even if the eye/heart metaphor is worth exploring."
"I don't know, I thought it was interesting," puts in Plourr. "But seriously, Klivian, If my slight Muse do please these curious days, / The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise? Really? You're an angsty bastard, aren't you." Hobbie goggles at her. Plourr sighs heavily. "Yes, I read them. Try not to faint."
Wes sees all this going very badly for himself, but he decides to man up and take what he deserves. "Hobbs?"
Hobbie turns back to face Wes. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, I think so."
"I really am."
"Good. Okay. Um." Hobbie pauses. "Did you steal my cookies?"
Wes's face falls. "Yes."
"You stole mom's cookies?!" Hobbie explodes. "Wedge, can I space him? Please?"
Wedge shrugs. "Probably not. Think of the datawork. And you'd be doing it, as the responsible party."
"Damn."
A few weeks later...
"Hey, Hobbs."
"Hi, Wes." Hobbie slouches at one of the tables in Downtime, and Wes slides in next to him. "I'm still sort of pissed at you, you know."
"I know. Which is why I have this." Wes produces a box from seemingly nowhere.
"What's that? You trying to buy my love?"
"Not this time, darling. Open it."
Hobbie sets the box on the little table and removes the lid. The smell of his mom's spectacular cookies wafts into his nose. "Wes, how...?"
"I contacted your mother, wonderful lady that she is, told her my tale of woe, and she generously consented to send me her recipe with her best wishes."
Hobbie takes a large bite from a cookie. "They're... good."
"Not amazing?"
"Well, you made them. Be glad they're not disastrous."
"Point, my dear Hobbie." Wes watches as Hobbie demolishes the rest of the cookie. "But they're okay?"
"You are back in my good graces, if that's what you really want to know."
"Awesome." Wes kisses Hobbie enthusiastically on the cheek, steals a cookie, and runs whooping out of the cantina. Hobbie sighs and has another cookie.
the end
Author: izzybeth
Rating: G as G can be
Disclaimer: As much as he ruined my childhood no I'm still not over it, all characters belong to George Lucas. At least I get to play with them.
Summary: "Hobbie's Other Life"
Notes: Written for otahyoni in the 2010 Rogues And Wraiths Ficathon. Late, I know, and I'm so sorry! Set sometime after Requiem and before Mandatory Retirement, but it doesn't really matter. Spoilery notes are whited out; highlight to read --> All poetry quoted herein is not mine. It's all by some guy called William Shakespeare, you may have heard of him. In any case, I cribbed off him because I cannot write poetry (but apparently Hobbie can). Quoted in order: Sonnet 8, Sonnet 18, Sonnet 65, Twelfth Night III i, 18 again, Sonnet 116, Sonnet 46, Sonnet 38. Also one piece of dialogue yoinked from Serenity. It was too perfect.
Wes has about a ten minute window before he knows Hobbie will decide the food in the mess is actually slightly worse than it had been yesterday, and he comes back to his quarters for the cookie stash under his mattress. Wes helps himself to a couple and gets down to business. His plan involves spacer's tape, dry ice, and Hobbie's underwear, and ten minutes is not a very long time.
He digs through his friend's foot locker until he uncovers a small case containing Hobbie's datapad and collection of cards. "Ooh. Hobbs, it's like you don't trust me or something." The datapad lights up in Wes's hand, and lines of text stream down the screen. Wes tilts the pad to one side. Hobbie had, indeed, left a card in the slot when he'd put it away last. Wes almost pops the card out when a phrase on the screen catches his eye.
"Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?, what the hell?" It looks like some sort of poetry to Wes. "Didn't know you were into that, my friend." Wes skims down to what appears to be the end of the poem. Below it are the letters 'DK'.
"No way. Oh, no way, man!" Wes doesn't know whether to be utterly appalled, or to laugh himself sick. He decides to go with laughing because that's usually more fun.
"Speaking of which..." He grins as another idea hits him. Abandoning the dry ice and underwear plan entirely, Wes rummages in his pockets for a spare datacard, and copies everything from Hobbie's card onto his. Oh yeah, this was gonna be good.
---
TO: "T.Celchu", "P.Ilo", "F.Ardele", "K.Komad", "Ibtisam", "N.Vakil", "A.Beruss", "X.Huwla"
FROM: "W.Janson"
SUBJ: YOUR EYES ONLY!!!!
Guys. Check this out. It appears our Hobbie has been keeping secrets from his very bestest pals. I'm speechless. I really am.
ATTACHMENT: youllneverguess.txt
---
Two cookies are missing, and Hobbie knows exactly who to blame for it. He wanders through the base, plotting how to exact his revenge. His mom sent him those cookies. Not only are they amazing, they made it mostly intact from Ralltiir, and Hobbie does not take their loss lightly.
He makes a shortcut through the back of the hangar, and waves at Koyi. She waves back with a look on her face that says 'I am barely holding back ridiculous giggles, and I can't tell you why.'
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing! Injoke!" Koyi snorts and turns back to her tools. Her lekku twitch with suppressed laughter. Hobbie raises an eyebrow and continues toward the rec room.
He passes Feylis and Avan in the corridor, and he almost says hello, but notices they're far too wrapped up in each other to be aware of anything else around them. As they pass, Avan whispers something in Feylis's ear, which sounds a lot like "Thou art more lovely and more temperate." Hobbie spins around and narrows his eyes at the pair's receding backs. Did Avan just...? Nah. Impossible. Though Feylis did laugh a little...
Voices from the rec room increase as he nears it, and Hobbie enters the room to see Nrin, Ibtisam, Plourr, Xarcce, and Tycho deep in discussion at a table, a sabacc game forgotten in front of them but for their using the cards to gesticulate. Tycho looks up, sees Hobbie, and they all stop speaking abruptly. Hobbie frowns.
"Hey. What's up?"
"Nothing, Hobbs," Tycho says. He seems to notice his hand of cards for the first time. "Uh, shall we deal you in?"
"No thanks." Hobbie leans against the doorframe. "So what were you talking about?" The other pilots look everywhere but at him. "What, it's a secret? What are you planning? Should I start wearing a helmet indoors or something?"
"Of course not, don't be ridiculous," says Nrin. "We're not plotting against you. However, I did want to discuss your use of metaphor in Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless--" At that moment, Ib whacks him with a huge webbed hand and Nrin lets out a yelp. "Ouch!"
"Shut up!" Ib hisses, quite unsubtly.
Hobbie's frown deepens into a scowl. "I haven't been imagining it, have I?"
"You probably have, whatever 'it' is," says Plourr, idly examining her sabacc hand. "Idiot's Array."
The other four toss their cards down in disgust. "Thank you for making game interesting, Plourr."
"Hey, I didn't want to waste anyone's time. But thank you for that example of Tunroth sarcasm, Xarcce." Plourr gathers up her winnings, smirks at Hobbie, and leaves.
Hobbie glares at her, then at Ib, Xarcce, Tycho, and Nrin. "Metaphor. Right." He glimpses Ib elbow Nrin in the side and mutter something as he exits, but that doesn't matter. His squadmates may all be cheerful accomplices to his humiliation, but he knows exactly who the evil mastermind is.
---
Wes looks up just in time to see Hobbie actually shove a protocol droid out of his way and storm across the hangar toward Wedge's office. Oh no. Oh sith. "Hobbie!"
"What?" Hobbie is obviously angry, maybe more than Wes has ever seen him before. "Are you going to quote at me too?"
Wes put his hands up. "No, I--"
"Because hang on, here's one for you: This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, and to do that craves a kind of wit." Koyi pokes her head out from behind a starfighter to see what's going on, and other pilots drop what they're doing to watch. "This is a new low, Wes. I'd fully expect you to do something juvenile with my underwear or something, but this is just-- mean." Hobbie steps toward Wes, and Wes backs up into a heavy storage unit. It thuds. Hobbie pins him there with a look. "I didn't know you were capable of mean, Wes. Immature, sure; stupid, absolutely, but not mean. But hey, turns out there's always something you don't know about your best friend."
"Hobbie--"
"No, Wes. I don't want to hear it right now. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone for, say, the next three years or so." Wes cringes as Hobbie turns away. Hobbie's shoulders stiffen when he sees the rest of the squadron, plus a few techs, staring openmouthed at his display.
"Hobbie, what's going on?" Wedge stands in the open doorway of his office wearing his Stern Commander face.
"Nothing. Sorry, Wedge."
"Actually, Wedge, he's lying." Wes pushes past Hobbie to stand in front of Wedge. "I was looking around in his stuff; I had this sweet plan, right, and I needed his underwear and some dry ice--" Wedge makes an impatient 'get on with it' gesture. "Yeah, so I found Hobbie's datapad, and it still had a card in it, and I read what was on there and thought it was pretty funny, so I sent it to everyone else."
Wedge nodded, and looked over Wes's shoulder at Hobbie. "I knew they'd find out about it sooner or later. I've been telling you for ages to let everyone read them."
"Yeah, and look how well that turned out." Hobbie shoves his hands into his pockets and sighs.
"Actually," says Avan, standing at the back of the knot of people, "I thought they were pretty good. Especially the Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? one." He tucks a stray lock of Feylis's hair behind her ear and grins at her.
Feylis grins back. "And the Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments one. Very nice."
Hobbie raises a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Had no idea you were such a romantic, Hobbs," Tycho says, a sincere smile on his face.
"I would truly enjoy conversing with you regarding your literary devices and stylistic choices," says Nrin. "That wasn't a joke."
"Wait. Wait wait wait." Wes stares at Wedge. "You knew about them?"
Wedge looks at Hobbie, who shrugged a 'go ahead'. "Well, yeah. A year or so ago, he wanted someone to give them a read-through, and was a little worried about what you would think--" Wedge paused to frown at Wes, who colored slightly, "--so he asked me. Although, some of them, I don't know." Wedge makes a face at Hobbie. "Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war has some weird judicial imagery that's hard to understand, even if the eye/heart metaphor is worth exploring."
"I don't know, I thought it was interesting," puts in Plourr. "But seriously, Klivian, If my slight Muse do please these curious days, / The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise? Really? You're an angsty bastard, aren't you." Hobbie goggles at her. Plourr sighs heavily. "Yes, I read them. Try not to faint."
Wes sees all this going very badly for himself, but he decides to man up and take what he deserves. "Hobbs?"
Hobbie turns back to face Wes. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, I think so."
"I really am."
"Good. Okay. Um." Hobbie pauses. "Did you steal my cookies?"
Wes's face falls. "Yes."
"You stole mom's cookies?!" Hobbie explodes. "Wedge, can I space him? Please?"
Wedge shrugs. "Probably not. Think of the datawork. And you'd be doing it, as the responsible party."
"Damn."
A few weeks later...
"Hey, Hobbs."
"Hi, Wes." Hobbie slouches at one of the tables in Downtime, and Wes slides in next to him. "I'm still sort of pissed at you, you know."
"I know. Which is why I have this." Wes produces a box from seemingly nowhere.
"What's that? You trying to buy my love?"
"Not this time, darling. Open it."
Hobbie sets the box on the little table and removes the lid. The smell of his mom's spectacular cookies wafts into his nose. "Wes, how...?"
"I contacted your mother, wonderful lady that she is, told her my tale of woe, and she generously consented to send me her recipe with her best wishes."
Hobbie takes a large bite from a cookie. "They're... good."
"Not amazing?"
"Well, you made them. Be glad they're not disastrous."
"Point, my dear Hobbie." Wes watches as Hobbie demolishes the rest of the cookie. "But they're okay?"
"You are back in my good graces, if that's what you really want to know."
"Awesome." Wes kisses Hobbie enthusiastically on the cheek, steals a cookie, and runs whooping out of the cantina. Hobbie sighs and has another cookie.
the end