Title: We're So Screwed
Fandom: Star Wars (Books)
Characters: Wes, Hobbie, Kell
Word Count: 1,000
Rating: PG (unless you really want to imagine what Wes is doing with all that stuff)
Summary: Wes and Hobbie are in trouble. Again. It's all Wes's fault. Again.
A/N: This is a very rough draft, but if I don't get off my ass and post it I'm never going to revise it. Seriously.
"Why are we here again?"
"So we can get rid of this mess without Wedge seeing. Shh."
"Oh." Pause. "Shouldn't we have given this job to Wraith Squadron?"
"Shush!"
Wraith Squadron would have laughed at them anyway. They might have been expert pilots and clever as two cats in space, but they weren't as stealthy as they should have been on the ground. Of course, that could have been Wes trying not to laugh and Hobbie trying not to kill him.
The remnants of the bad joke were squirreled away into one of the lockers: half a ryshcate, a small sack of Ewok fur, machine lubricant, ball bearings, and the remnants of yet another Glass Prowler. Poor thing. It had gotten crushed in all the excitement.
"I still can't believe you thought that would work."
"It would have worked perfectly! It's not my fault Piggy decided he wanted to use the simulators at …" Wes made a face while he tried to remember.
"Oh-dark-hundred?"
"Yeah, that."
"I still don't think it would have worked."
"Oh, shut up. You're just cranky because…"
Footsteps in the corridor. They fell silent again, Wes leaning against the lockers and assuming an expression of studied nonchalance that only worked because he had the same expression whether he had just destroyed the refresher or put on Kettch for a strafing run. Hobbie stretched out on the bench and pretended to be asleep.
"What are you up to?"
Wes's eyes widened. "What what am I up to?"
"Wes, I know you. Everyone knows you. That expression means you're up to something."
"Kell, I swear to you, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
Kell snorted. "Briefing's in ten. Wedge'll kill you if you're late." And he disappeared around the corner.
Wes jumped off of the lockers so fast and loud that Hobbie fell off the bench. "That's it!"
"What's it?" He sounded cross at having his nap interrupted. Or maybe only almost falling onto his face on the floor.
"That's it! If Wedge kills us for missing the briefing, he doesn't have to…"
Hobbie just stared at him. "The Force is not strong with your logic."
"Shut up."
Hobbie shut up. Wes fidgeted, bouncing a little on the balls of his toes and looking back and forth through the corridor as though expecting their fearless leader to come sneaking up on him at any moment.
"Wedge is going to kill you."
"He always wants to kill me."
"Piggy's going to kill you."
"Nah." Wes bounced again. "Not practical. He'll just come up with some convoluted and mathematical way to get revenge."
"Or he'll get you naked again."
"Hey." He pointed a finger at his friend. "It was Wedge who got me naked. At least if I've offended Piggy I'm safe from that."
Hobbie sat up, straddling the bench. "Instead he'll come up with convoluted and mathematical way to get revenge that's so foreign to your way of thinking that you won't be able to predict it."
Wes beamed. "Exactly."
"And you won't be able to predict it."
"Oh." His face fell again.
Hobbie snorted and lay back. "Two minutes. I still say we should have made Wraith Squadron clean it up. Blamed it on, um."
"Face?"
"Sure. He's got the Glass Prowlers, anyway."
"Yeah, but all Wedge would have had to do to know it was him was look into his room and see that they're still there in their cages. And then he would have gone around looking for anyone else crazy enough to get their hands on a Glass Prowler, an Ewok, machine lubricant, ball bearings, Cubber's toolkit…"
"And the ryshcate."
"Yeah."
Wes looked down the corridor towards the briefing. The Wraiths and the Rogues had been reunited for a mission, even with the Wraiths still ground-bound. The Rogues, the Deltas, and half a dozen other squadrons of fighters and elite units. It was a big mission. Maybe one of the biggest, Wedge had said. Of course, Wes was of the opinion that surviving both Death Star runs and taking down Zsinj was about as big as it could get, but Wedge just rolled his eyes when he told him so.
The more serious the mission, the more edgy Wes got. And the more edgy Wes got, the more everyone around them suffered, or so Hobbie was fond of saying.
What he meant by that, Wes explained, was that when things got tough he realized there was a greater than ever need to keep morale up. Which he could of course accomplish. A few jokes, a little levity here and there.
Hobbie tried to point out that reprogramming the simulators to paint a big target sign on whatever fighter Wedge was flying wasn't a little levity. Wes pointed out that it had made the newer Rogues laugh.
"We have to come up with something to keep Wedge's mind off of whatever Piggy might be reporting to him."
"We have to get rid of all that stuff and go to the briefing. You remember, the briefing that starts in…" Hobbie shook his head. "That started two or three minutes ago."
Wes waved a hand, started pacing again. "It'll take him a while to settle everyone down. Besides, I already know what it's about."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I snuck a look at his notes while I was in his office getting that Ewok." Stuffed Ewok, really. With real fur, confiscated from an Imperial artifact collector. Wedge had locked it away in disgust, but Wes had found all manner of fun uses for it. "Poor little guy."
"Poor us, if we don't get into that briefing room in…." Hobbie stopped in mid-sentence to slump back against the bench and groan. Wes had that look in his eye again. Last time it had been machine lubricant and ball bearings. He didn't want to know what it meant this time.
"Just stay here. I got an idea."
"Wes…" Too late. Far too late. "Great. We're so screwed."
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