daisysusan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
daisysusan) wrote2010-09-16 11:26 pm
daisysusan) wrote2010-09-16 11:26 pm
fic: In Which Wes and Hobbie Walk into a Bar
Title: In Which Wes and Hobbie Walk into a Bar
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lanewinree and miraxcorran
Fandom: Star Wars
Characters: Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian
Genre: Humor, romance
Timeframe: After the beginning of Wraith Squadron but before Wes goes back to the Rogues
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A choose-your-own adventure fic that does exactly what the title says.
Notes: This fic is the result of an insane, ridiculous idea that just spiraled out of control. It's a choose-your-own-adventure, so have fun. If the format is difficult to use, your have our deepest apologies. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Star Wars does not belong to either of us; it belongs to George Lucas and his minions. Also, the game that Was and Hobbie play was blatantly stolen from How I Met Your Mother (wherein Barney plays it with Ted).
Introduction
The door of the bar opened. In walked two men. The first wore a broad grin; the second, a look of cautious anxiety.
“Ah, Hobbie” said the first, “We have entered that finest of lands: the cantina. Now, it is time for the games to begin. We shall open with my personal favorite –”
“No, Wes. Not your favorite,” pleaded the second. “Playing your favorite cantina game has never, ever ended well.”
“But Hobbie! Just because something hasn’t ended well before doesn’t mean that it won’t this time. Besides,” said Wes with a salacious grin, “have you ever seen prospects quite like these?” He swept his arm out, indicating the entirety of the cantina. “From here, you can see that we have an adorable brunette, a black-haired goddess, a stunning blond, and an exquisite redhead whose skirt was very short. Take your pick, my good man!”
Hobbie shook his head and tried to escape his friend’s clutches to no avail.
Wes approached the (A) adorable brunette, (B) black-haired goddess, (C) stunning blond, or (D) exquisite redhead (whose skirt was very short)...
(A)
... and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
As the words left his mouth, he realized that the brunette was eerily familiar. He knew her from somewhere. Was she a regular at the cantina? Had he flown with her at some point? Was she related to Wedge?
Once she was facing them, Wes placed her: she was that pilot named ... named ... named something.
Upon seeing Hobbie, she said (E) “No. Should I?” with the smile of someone in on a good joke or (F) “Good to see you, Lieutenant Klivian.”
(B)
...and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The moment the black-haired goddess turned to face them, he knew he had made the gravest of errors. Years later it would be spoken of in squadron lore, the day Wes Janson got pummeled by a girl.
“Why, yes, I have met Hobbie,” Mirax Terrik-Horn replied.
Before Wes could respond the smuggler’s fist slammed into the side of his face. For a small woman she packed one hell of a mean left hook. Wes stumbled backwards and tripped over an empty seat, landing in a heap on the cold bar floor.
“So how are you, Bugbite?” Wes heard Mirax ask as he lay motionless on the tile.
“Much better now, thank you,” Hobbie replied, “but please don’t call me Bugbite.”
“No can do, Bugbite.”
The following morning, Corran asked entirely too many questions about the ring-shaped bruise on his face.
The End
(C)
...but stopped in his tracks momentarily. He had seen this stunning blond somewhere before, but where? Wes thought through the little black datacard he stored in his head. Was it Kellie, the Incom mechanic he brought back to his quarters a few months earlier? No, she was a half-meter shorter and had much larger... hair.
“Wes,” Hobbie said urgently.
What about Lya, General Cracken’s secretary? Doubtful. He heard Lya had checked herself into a clinic of some sort after their brief encounter. Something about needing to run a battery of tests on herself.
“Wes,” Hobbie repeated, tugging on his sleeve.
Wes was certain she had seen her before, but where?
If you can’t remember, chances are you haven’t slept with her.
That was a good enough answer for now.
“Wes, no!”
With a shrug he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The stunning blond turned on her barstool. The glowrod finally clicked on. Of course! It was (G) Hobbie’s childhood friend or (H) Wes’ first conquest.
(D)
... and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The redhead glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t think so, no.”
Wes grinned. “Do you want to?”
“That depends. Are you Hobbie? Because I definitely want to meet you ...” As she spoke, she leaned towards him, drawing his attention to her absurdly low top (clearly, her theme was “itty bitty teeny weeny” clothing). She ran her finger along the neck of the top.
Wes shook his head. “I can’t say that I am, sorry.” The look of disappointment on her face was heartbreaking, especially given the size of her ... eyes. It was time to make a choice. Either he could (I) deflect this exquisite redhead back to Hobbie or (J) he could just take her back to his place.
(E)
Wes had seen that look before. The cute, young brunette had a mischievous glint in her eyes. She was in on the game! Oh, this was an opportunity that was too good to pass up. He would have to play his sabacc cards carefully.
“You certainly should meet Hobbie!” Wes said as he smacked his friend on the back. “It’s not every day you run into a certified war hero.”
The brunette raised a brow. “A certified war hero?”
“Absolutely,” Wes noded solemnly. “They even gave him a commemorative plaque to prove it.”
Hobbie inserted himself between Wes and the brunette. “Why don’t I save you from Wes’ boring stories and buy you a drink?”
“A war hero buying me a drink?” The brunette asked, feigning shock.
Wes smiled to himself as Hobbie dropped a few credcoins on the bartop and led the brunette to an open table. It seemed that everything was going according to plan until... (T) Hobbie launches into a decidedly wholesome conversation or (U) he actually flirts back.
(F)
“Good to see you, Lieutenant Klivian,” said the brunette.
Wes rolled his eyes. Well that just took the fun right out of it, the game didn’t work if the target had actually met Hobbie. Especially if the relationship was business. Total buzzkill.
He let them continue with their shop talk for several minutes but cut them off when they hit the topic of BlasTec sidearms. If that had continued on any longer Wes was convinced he would have fallen into a boredom induced coma.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Hobs?” he cut in.
Hobbie looked confused. “This is Inyri Forge. You guys met after the Rogues took Coruscant.”
Wes searched his memory of the the rather blurry days, but came up with nothing more than a vague memory of meeting some hot pilots.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” continued Hobbie. “He was drunk off his ass the entire time.”
“I am terribly sorry, Inyri,” Wes said smoothly as he pried Hobbie away from her: ought he (K) make a play for Inyri himself or (AA) try for a more satisfying round of “Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?”
(G)
“Derek?” the stunning blond asked. “Derek Klivian?”
Hobbie buried his face in his hands. “I begged you not to, Wes.”
“Do I sense some history here?” Wes could feel a grin plastered on his face.
Wes had to admit that wasn’t quite how it normally worked. The acquired target wasn’t supposed to have actually met Hobbie before. He had to work quickly if he was going to salvage the game. As near as he could tell there were two options. The first was to trudge forward with the blond. The second was to abort and set their targeting computers on a new one.
“This is Edea,” Hobbie said bitterly. “She dumped me for my sister’s ex boyfriend in primary school.”
Abort, Abort, Abort!
“That wouldn’t have happened if you would have just–” but the blond was cut off by Wes dragging Hobbie away.
“You know,” Wes mused, “this game was more fun when we called it ‘Haaaaaave you met Bugbite’.”
“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”
“No time to argue, time to lock onto a new target!”
Hobbie groaned. “Oh Force, no.”
Ignoring his friend’s protests, Wes approached the (A) adorable brunette, (B) black-haired goddess, or (D) exquisite redhead (whose skirt was very short)...
(H)
“Wes?” the stunning blond asked. “Wes Janson?”
“Khaylia!” Wes exclaimed, throwing an arm around the woman. “Hobbie, this is Khaylia Zatoq, my first girlfriend in primary school.”
“Wes, I-” Hobbie started.
“What have you been up to since you left home, flyboy?” Khaylia said, cutting him off.
Wes offered his best casual shrug. “Oh, a little bit of this, little bit of that. Did the whole Rebellion Hero bit, you may have seen the wanted poster.”
“Wes, you really should-” Hobbie tried to interject.
“Rebellion hero?” Khaylia’s eyes lit up. “You mean like Wedge Antilles?”
Wes did his best not to wince. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Wes, will you just-”
Offering the blond his arm, Wes flashed the toothy smile that had melted the hearts of countless women. “What do you say we head back to my place and catch up, Khaylia?”
Hobbie buried his face in his hands.
“That sounds delightful,” Khaylia replied as she linked arms with him, walking out of the bar side by side.
The next morning in the mess hall none of the other men in the squadron would talk to Wes. Corran seemed particularly upset, muttering something about having to sleep on the couch for the next several decades. Confused, he sat down next to Hobbie and asked why he was getting the cold shoulder.
“I tried to tell you,” Hobbie said as he set a datapad down on the table. On it was a magazine article that had been published that morning.
The Slutty Men of Rogue Squadron by Khaylia Zatoq
“She’s a sludgenews reporter,” Hobbie said bitterly.
“Oh,” Wes said. “You think this has anything to do with me dumping her right before prom?”
Hobbie sighed and rubbed his temples, refusing to speak with Wes anymore.
It took a standard month before any of the other Rogue men said something other than “Blow it out your exhaust port” to Wes.
Good luck finding a wingman next time you're at a cantina, flyboy!
(I)
Oh, this was not good at all. As much fun as it was when the girls wanted him, Wes knew that watching Hobbie flounder (maybe) would be even more fun.
But how should he go about getting the skank to leave him alone? The most obvious way, of course, was to make himself completely undesirable. That way, though, lay trouble. If he loudly announced that he had some virulent venereal disease, then no one else would go home with him either.
Definitely a downside.
So ... other ways of deflecting her interest back to Hobbie. Hmm, he could maybe (P) tell her that Hobbie only had three weeks left to live or (Q) just screw tact and propose a threesome.
(J)
Screw the game. This girl was clearly into him, not Hobbie.
“Tell you what,” Wes continued, “You can just get to know me instead of Hobbie.”
Not twenty standard minutes later, he was [CENSORED] the [CENSORED] [LARGER WALL OF CENSORED] and [SO VERY CENSORED] in [CENSORED] through [CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED] X-Wing [CENSORED] thermal exhaust port two meters wide.
The [REALLY, DOES NO ONE CARE THAT THIS IS CENSORED FOR A REASON?] continued [CENSORED] Face Loran holovid [CENSORED] by [STOP. JUST STOP. YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW.]
Wes was convinced that he’d had the time of his life. That is, until he had to haul himself to the infirmary a few days later for an ointment for a rather painful rash.
Hobbie never did extract the details from him, but Wes was heard muttering that he really should’ve left the girl for Hobbie several times over the following weeks.
Should have remembered what they taught you during sex ed classes in primary school, flyboy!
(K)
“I keep saying,” Wes continued, “that I won’t get drunk at squadron parties, but it’s just so easy. Besides, Hobbie never cuts me off.”
Inyri grinned. “Oh, is he your keeper? I would have thought that the famed Wes Janson could take care of himself, but I guess I was wrong.”
“It’s just so much more fun to make Hobbie take care of me,” he retorted. Hobbie, he noticed peripherally, was inching away from them and towards an empty seat at the bar. Well, if Hobbie wasn’t interested ... that was that, then.
He sat down next to her. “So, Inyri...” Time to choose: did he (L) offer to buy her a drink or (M) try one of the wonderful lines from his collection?
(L)
“... can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” Inyri replied.
It took every ounce of self-control Wes possessed to keep his jaw from dropping. That one never worked, especially with any woman who’d met him. Or seen him drunk. This was a spectacularly rare opportunity for him.
“Barkeep!” Wes shouted. “Top off her drink.”
The bartender frowned at Wes. “Planning on paying back your tab anytime soon?”
Wes did his best not to flinch as he dropped his credchit on the bar-top. There went three weeks of pay. That, though, was a small price to pay if he could keep the attention of the lovely brunette pilot.
“I hope I’m not being too forward,” Wes said as the bartender filled her glass, “but would you like to...” (N) play it cool or (O) take a more direct approach?
(M)
“...do you work for the Interstellar Parcel Service? I could have sworn I saw you checking out my package.”
It seemed as if everyone sitting within five meters of them shifted backwards a touch. Without saying a word, Inyri stood from her seat and glared at Wes. Now that was confusing, normally that line was blaster-proof.
Inyri picked Wes up by the collar of his jacket and glared at him for several long, agonizing moments. Without so much as a word she drove her knee straight into his priority class package, knocking the wind out of him before letting go and letting him collapse onto the bar floor in a heap.
“Sorry, had to return it to the sender,” Inyri said as she stormed off.
Two things ran through his mind at that moment. The first was that he was fairly certain he would never walk again. The second was that the bar floor had a rather pretty looking texture from this angle.
Twelve-year-olds have better pick-up lines, flyboy!
(N)
“...catch a holovid tonight at my place?”
Wes expected the answer to be a definitive “no” but at least he had asked in a somewhat tactful manner. At worst he figured she would throw his drink in his face. The physical violence threat seemed low.
“You know,” Inyri said, “that sounds nice. I think I’ll take you up on that.”
“That’s okay,” Wes held up his hands. “I completely understand and I wouldn’t want to...” He paused. “What did you say?”
She smirked. “I said I’ll take you up on that offer.”
They finished their drinks and made their way out of the cantina. Wes couldn’t happen but notice the stunned look on Hobbie’s face as they walked past. A short stroll later they arrived at his modest living quarters.
Wes was tempted to put The Moves (patent secured several months earlier) on Inyri, but he thought better of it. They would watch a holovid like he promised, but which one? Wes reached for... (W) an action flick or (X) a romance holo.
(O)
“... head someplace a bit more private and do the Horizontal Ewok Shuffle?”
Perhaps that wasn’t quite the right way to say that.
Inyri suddenly stood up. She looked very, very offended and horrified (though mostly horrified). Three hours later Wes found himself in a medical wing bed, trying his best not to whimper in agony.
“I must say” the physician said, “I’ve never quite had an injury like this roll through my clinic before. Just how did you rupture your...”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wes said as he curled into the fetal position.
That was definitely not how “Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” was supposed to end.
Good luck explaining that one to the other guys, flyboy!
(P)
“It really is a shame,” Wes said somberly. “Hobbie only has three weeks left to live. I brought him out to our favorite watering hole for just one more drink but...” He brushed at his eyes, patting himself on the back for launching the tears on cue. “I just want to see him happy before he goes, you know?”
The redhead in the very short skirt brought her hand up her mouth in surprise. Hobbie merely buried his face in his.
“And after all he’s been through!” Wes shook his head. “All of the TIE Fighters he’s vaped, the Death Star he survived, it’s illness that does him in.”
“Oh Hobbie!” the skank said. “You poor man.”
The old Three Weeks Left To Live stunt worked every time. Well, most of the time.
“Say, you know what Hobbie really could use?” Wes asked.
“For the love of the Force, stop Wes!” Hobbie pleaded.
“I think I do,” the skank said.
Wes was surprised by... (R) the skank making out with him on the spot or (S) the follow up question.
(Q)
Oh, what the hell, Wes decided.
“Say, guys, why don’t all three of us go back to my place?”
The skank looked at Hobbie. Hobbie looked at the skank. Wes looked at Hobbie, whose expression was slowly morphing from confusion to subtle but rapidly increasing revulsion.
“I ... Wes ... no ... but ... how?” he stuttered helplessly.
The skank looked relieved at Hobbie’s confusion but also seemed to be using it as means to slip away from the pair of them. Wes watched her sadly, wondering if it was still possible to go after her.
Unfortunately for him, the elapsed time was enough for Hobbie to recover his thought process.
“Wes. Ew. No,” he said forcefully.
And then he slapped Wes. Hard.
***
It was not until many years that Wes reaped the benefits of that particular lesson.
He stood on the planet of Adumar, watching Thanaer ke Sekae wobble on his feet. Wes knew he needed to knock him out with the next blow (mostly because he was bored).
All of a sudden, Hobbie’s stinging slap from the bar that night jumped into his mind.
“At least you could say you were knocked out by a well-struck blow of the fist,” he began.
At least you learned something this time, flyboy!
(R)
Wes was impressed. Normally “Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” didn’t end quite this quickly.
The skank had thrown herself at Hobbie. Apparently men with three weeks left to live were her thing, but to be fair, there was a certain allure to bedding someone you knew wouldn’t be around to tell the tale later.
The look of terror in Hobbie’s eyes as he was dragged away to whatever cheap hotel the skank was staying at was priceless. Wes wished he had taken a holoimage of it to frame and put on his desk.
The next morning Hobbie arrived in the mess hall looking rather...happy with himself. That was certainly strange. Normally after a night of debauchery he looked as if he wanted to crawl into a crater.
“You’re in a good mood,” Wes noted as he shoveled another bite of food into his mouth.
“Aima Eraston,” Hobbie said, folding his arms across his chest.
“What?”
“The holostar. Aima Eraston. I slept with her. Twice. Well, actually ...” Hobbie trailed off.
Wes blinked once. Then twice. “No, you slept with a random skank last night.”
Hobbie merely grinned in response.
“Oh Force.” Wes buried his head in his hands. “But, how...”
“Turns out she was hiding out in the cantina to get away from the sludgenews!” Hobbie beamed.
“And you...”
“Twice! Well, actually ...”
A single tear rolled down Wes’ cheek. Oh, what could have been...
The lesson here is to never judge a skank by their cover, flyboy!
(S)
“Could you tell me a little more about how you ended up in such a state?” the skank continued.
Hobbie looked stricken. “I, erm, got diagnosed with Synddra a few months ago. Must’ve picked it up from a mynock somewhere in the Corporate Sector. It causes severe inflammation of the, er, liver.”
Oddly, the skank started glaring at him.
Then she rolled her eyes.
“So you’re one of those guys who goes around bars lying about how much time he has left to live to get laid? Force. I’d throw my drink in your face, but medical training is too expensive to waste good drinks. Oh, and just so you know, Synddra can only be transmitted through blood, is most commonly found in the Hapes Cluster, and has absolutely nothing to do with mynocks.” She stormed off.
Wes grinned. Just what he’d been hoping for: the most amusing outcome possible for “Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” The only way it could have been improved was if she had thrown her drink on him.
You are one cold-hearted jerk, flyboy!
(T)
Wes couldn’t believe it. Hobbie actually had the brunette eating out of his hand and they were talking about sports. It took everything he had not to reach out and smack him. Had he not retained a single lesson from the Wes Janson Guide to Women datacard?
“Sorry Hobbie, but the Corellian Dreadnaughts are going to slaughter Ralltiir Warriors,” the brunette said.
“You’re out of your mind,” Hobbie insisted.
Wes frowned. If Hobbie wasn’t going to take this seriously, he would. He pulled up a seat at the bar and inserted himself between Hobbie and the brunette. “Well you two seem to be hitting it off. Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
It was at that point the brunette broke into a fit of laughter. Hobbie joined her.
“I apologize,” Hobbie said through tears. “I was hoping we could pull this one off a little longer. Wes, this is Inyri Forge of Rogue Squadron.”
The brunette grinned. “Pleased to meet you Lieutenant Janson.”
“Oh,” Wes said. “So you two are...”
“Squadronmates,” Inyri explained.
“So you’re not...”
She shook her head. “I make it a point to not date my executive officer.”
And there was the opening. Hobbie caught the cue and excused himself, leaving Wes alone with Inyri.
“Sorry about that,” Wes said sheepishly. “We were playing-”
“‘Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?’” Inyri finished.
Wes beamed. “Yes! You’ve played before?”
“Of course,” Inyri replied as she took a sip from her drink. “It’s only the greatest bar game in the Galaxy.”
“That it is,” Wes said. “Barkeep! Top off the lovely lady’s drink and put it on my tab.”
The bartender glared at Wes as he filled Inyri’s glass. “One of these days you’re going to have to repay that tab.”
Wes ignored him and turned back to the brunette pilot. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but would you like to...” (N) play it cool or (O) take a more direct approach?
(U)
Wes couldn’t believe it. Hobbie was actually playing along and flirting with the target. He wasn’t sure if he should feel proud that Hobbie had finally taken some initiative or annoyed that the game was on track to end far too quickly.
“So what brings a war hero like you to a hole-in-the-wall like this?” The brunette asked.
Hobbie looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, sometimes it’s just nice to kick your feet up and enjoy a cold one with the other heroes of the New Republic.” He offered the brunette a smile as he placed a hand over hers.
“A Hero? Me” The brunette’s eyes fluttered.
At this point Wes wasn’t sure who was actually in on the scheme anymore. Hobbie never behaved like this during the game.
“Absolutely,” Hobbie nodded. “I see those Kalidor wings on your jacket. What unit are you flying with?”
“Oh, just a little group called Rogue Squadron,” the brunette replied.
“Rogue Squadron?” Hobbie looked towards Wes with an amused smirk. “Why, that’s the same squadron I’m flying for!”
Now that just wasn’t fair. It was Wes who wasn’t in on the scheme. The brunette and Hobbie were working against him! A lesser man would have tried to get even right then, but Wes knew when a battle was lost.
“Well played,” Wes said as he clapped his hands together. “Now, why don’t you kids...”
(O) go someplace a bit more private or (V) enjoy your drinks?
(V)
“...enjoy yourselves and have another round on me.”
Wes tosses a few credcoins down on the bar and walked away from Hobbie and Inyri. It was a shame the game had ended so quickly, but at least Hobbie appeared to be having a good time. That should at least make him a touch more tolerable during morning briefings for a week or two.
Just as Wes was about to sit down at the bar with a drink and his thoughts as his only company, he spotted another patron enter the bar: the illustrious Wedge Antilles.
Wes looked up to the heavens above and mouthed a silent “thank you” before standing and walking towards his commanding officer. Perhaps it was the grin plastered on Wes’ face that was the giveaway, but Wedge’s smile gave way to a look of horror.
“Wes, no!” Wedge pleaded.
Too late.
Wes tapped a nearby blond wearing an old CorSec jacket on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaave you met Wedge?”
There's always another wingman out there, flyboy!
(W)
... an Avadon Tiggs action flick.
The good news was that Inyri seemed to enjoy action holos. Really, really enjoy them. The bad news was that she spent far more time screaming at the hero than paying any attention to Wes. He had made a grave miscalculation.
“That was as much fun as I’ve had in months!” Inyri said as the holo credits rolled. “This should be a regular thing.”
Wes hopes soared. “I couldn’t agree more! Next week, same time?”
“Absolutely,” Inyri said. “I’ll invite some of the other guys over as well.”
He did his best not to let his disappointment show. “Other guys?”
“Sure. Gavin loves these holos,” Inyri mused aloud. “The new guy, Donos was it? He looks like he’d be interested. Corran could use some time away from Mirax...”
Wes plastered a smile onto his face as she continued to list names. He had really done it this time. Instead of Action Holo Night with Inyri, it was going to be Action Holo Night with Inyri, Gavin, Myn, Corran ...
You chose poorly, flyboy!
(X)
... an old Face Loran holo, of the sappiest variety.
The good news was that, thirty minutes later, Inyri was snuggled up against him. The better news was that she was giggling silently, which meant that Wes didn’t need to contain his own laughter.
Before long, the two of them were ridiculing every absurdity, from the silly plot to the melodrama of Face’s quest to find meaning in his life (or whatever it was that he was doing). Wes’ arm was wrapped around Inyri, and her face was buried against him, her shoulders shaking.
“Oh gods,” she squeaked, “Oh gods, did you see his face? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that ridiculous.”
“I have,” said Wes. “I’ve seen Loran himself try to defend his choice to make that face.”
“How do you know Loran?” she inquired.
“He’s in Wraith Squadron. Tries to downplay the Imperial propaganda holos, though.”
Inyri smirked. “You make fun of him anyway, right?”
“Of course! Now shush, this is the best part.”
On the screen, Face’s character and the similarly vapid heroine of the vid were leaning toward each other dramatically as the music swelled into what was probably meant to be an epic love theme. It was completely undermined, of course, by the actors’ facial expressions, but the music itself wasn’t half bad.
So Wes had a choice. He could either (Y) go in for a kiss or (Z) give in to the hilarity and laugh again.
(Y)
He leaned towards Inyri just as Face leaned towards his vapid heroine. She tilted her face up towards his and smiled softly.
Their lips met.
And was it ever an amazing kiss. Wes felt like Inyri was trying to pour herself into him and he returned in kind –
Inyri’s comlink beeped loudly. She cursed as she pulled it from her belt and answered it.
“Forge.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Uh-huh.” Another pause. “Kriff. You owe me so much. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Clipping her comlink back to her belt, she turned to Wes. “That was Hobbie. He asked me to spring him from a holding cell. He was a little thin on details, but I think some skanky girl was involved.”
As Inyri left, Wes sank into his couch and swore. Hobbie was not allowed to pick up girls by himself ever again. Ever.
Next time you had better find a babysitter for your wingman, flyboy!
(Z)
Just as Wes was about to close the final few, precious centimeters remaining between them Face’s foolish looking mug filled the holoscreen again. Wes couldn’t help it. He doubled over in another fit of laughter.
Dead. You are dead, Face Loran.
He looked up at Inyri, still unable to control himself. Wes half expected to be slapped for the wholly inappropriate outburst but instead, Inyri burst into howling laughter.
“I’ve heard better lines in an after school holo!” she said, gasping for breath.
“And the accents!” Wes wheezed. “Oh Force, the accents!”
Inyri was clutching at her sides. “I can pull off a better Corellian dialect!”
Just then Face uttered another absurd line. Wes lost his wits once more. Briefly he thought he heard a comlink sound, but whatever had caused the noise was instantly drowned out by Inyri joining in once more. Before long the holovid’s credits were rolling.
“Oh Toril!” Inyri exclaimed as she brought her hand to her forehead in a dramatic pose. “How can I possibly defy my father’s wishes?”
“Lenix, fair Lenix,” Wes held out a hand, re-enacting the overly melodramatic climax. “Your father’s demands pale in comparison to our love!”
“But if he discovers us he will have you put to death!” Inyri objected.
Wes stood, bringing Inyri to her feet. “Then we fly by the cover of darkness. Come with me, Lenix. Let us go to where no one will stand between us. Leave this all behind!”
“Then, Toril, I have no choice,” Inyri said as she looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his own. “Tonight, we fly. Embrace me now!”
Lost in the moment, Wes wrapped his arms around Inyri and drew her into him. “We fly, Lenix. Let us seal this...”
Before he finished the quote, Inyri pressed her mouth to his, kissing him thoroughly.
The following morning they arrived in the mess hall together.
“I wonder where Hobbie is,” Wes said. “He’s usually here at 0800 sharp.”
Inyri shrugged. “Maybe he decided to play the game by himself?”
For a short while they made idle chatter. Then Face Loran walked into the mess. Inyri was the first to break into shrieks of laughter. For a brief moment Wes felt bad for Face. Then he remembered the Corellian accent.
Wes grinned. He was rather looking forward to next week’s Face Loran Holovid night with Inyri.
Well played, flyboy!
(AA)
“...but Hobbie and I need to...” Wes trailed off, muttering something incoherent.
Inyri looked at Hobbie. “Is this that game you were telling me about?”
“I’m afraid so,” Hobbie replied glumly.
“My sympathies,” Inyri said as she returned her attention to her drink.
Hobbie breathed a sigh of relief and raised a hand to grab the bartender’s attention. Before he could say anything Wes spun him around to face the field of potential targets.
“That didn’t work quite as well as I had hoped,” Wes admitted, “but the night is still young.”
Hobbie rubbed his temples and sighed as Wes scanned the field once again. That had been too close of a call. The game had nearly ended on the worst possible outcome, boring shop talk between coworkers. At least there was still time to recover.
Grinning, Wes grabbed Hobbie, leading him towards... (B) a classy-looking dark-haired woman, (C) a striking blond, or (D) a redhead in a very short skirt?
Author:
lanewinree and miraxcorranFandom: Star Wars
Characters: Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian
Genre: Humor, romance
Timeframe: After the beginning of Wraith Squadron but before Wes goes back to the Rogues
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A choose-your-own adventure fic that does exactly what the title says.
Notes: This fic is the result of an insane, ridiculous idea that just spiraled out of control. It's a choose-your-own-adventure, so have fun. If the format is difficult to use, your have our deepest apologies. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Star Wars does not belong to either of us; it belongs to George Lucas and his minions. Also, the game that Was and Hobbie play was blatantly stolen from How I Met Your Mother (wherein Barney plays it with Ted).
Introduction
The door of the bar opened. In walked two men. The first wore a broad grin; the second, a look of cautious anxiety.
“Ah, Hobbie” said the first, “We have entered that finest of lands: the cantina. Now, it is time for the games to begin. We shall open with my personal favorite –”
“No, Wes. Not your favorite,” pleaded the second. “Playing your favorite cantina game has never, ever ended well.”
“But Hobbie! Just because something hasn’t ended well before doesn’t mean that it won’t this time. Besides,” said Wes with a salacious grin, “have you ever seen prospects quite like these?” He swept his arm out, indicating the entirety of the cantina. “From here, you can see that we have an adorable brunette, a black-haired goddess, a stunning blond, and an exquisite redhead whose skirt was very short. Take your pick, my good man!”
Hobbie shook his head and tried to escape his friend’s clutches to no avail.
Wes approached the (A) adorable brunette, (B) black-haired goddess, (C) stunning blond, or (D) exquisite redhead (whose skirt was very short)...
(A)
... and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
As the words left his mouth, he realized that the brunette was eerily familiar. He knew her from somewhere. Was she a regular at the cantina? Had he flown with her at some point? Was she related to Wedge?
Once she was facing them, Wes placed her: she was that pilot named ... named ... named something.
Upon seeing Hobbie, she said (E) “No. Should I?” with the smile of someone in on a good joke or (F) “Good to see you, Lieutenant Klivian.”
(B)
...and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The moment the black-haired goddess turned to face them, he knew he had made the gravest of errors. Years later it would be spoken of in squadron lore, the day Wes Janson got pummeled by a girl.
“Why, yes, I have met Hobbie,” Mirax Terrik-Horn replied.
Before Wes could respond the smuggler’s fist slammed into the side of his face. For a small woman she packed one hell of a mean left hook. Wes stumbled backwards and tripped over an empty seat, landing in a heap on the cold bar floor.
“So how are you, Bugbite?” Wes heard Mirax ask as he lay motionless on the tile.
“Much better now, thank you,” Hobbie replied, “but please don’t call me Bugbite.”
“No can do, Bugbite.”
The following morning, Corran asked entirely too many questions about the ring-shaped bruise on his face.
The End
(C)
...but stopped in his tracks momentarily. He had seen this stunning blond somewhere before, but where? Wes thought through the little black datacard he stored in his head. Was it Kellie, the Incom mechanic he brought back to his quarters a few months earlier? No, she was a half-meter shorter and had much larger... hair.
“Wes,” Hobbie said urgently.
What about Lya, General Cracken’s secretary? Doubtful. He heard Lya had checked herself into a clinic of some sort after their brief encounter. Something about needing to run a battery of tests on herself.
“Wes,” Hobbie repeated, tugging on his sleeve.
Wes was certain she had seen her before, but where?
If you can’t remember, chances are you haven’t slept with her.
That was a good enough answer for now.
“Wes, no!”
With a shrug he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The stunning blond turned on her barstool. The glowrod finally clicked on. Of course! It was (G) Hobbie’s childhood friend or (H) Wes’ first conquest.
(D)
... and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” Wes asked.
The redhead glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t think so, no.”
Wes grinned. “Do you want to?”
“That depends. Are you Hobbie? Because I definitely want to meet you ...” As she spoke, she leaned towards him, drawing his attention to her absurdly low top (clearly, her theme was “itty bitty teeny weeny” clothing). She ran her finger along the neck of the top.
Wes shook his head. “I can’t say that I am, sorry.” The look of disappointment on her face was heartbreaking, especially given the size of her ... eyes. It was time to make a choice. Either he could (I) deflect this exquisite redhead back to Hobbie or (J) he could just take her back to his place.
(E)
Wes had seen that look before. The cute, young brunette had a mischievous glint in her eyes. She was in on the game! Oh, this was an opportunity that was too good to pass up. He would have to play his sabacc cards carefully.
“You certainly should meet Hobbie!” Wes said as he smacked his friend on the back. “It’s not every day you run into a certified war hero.”
The brunette raised a brow. “A certified war hero?”
“Absolutely,” Wes noded solemnly. “They even gave him a commemorative plaque to prove it.”
Hobbie inserted himself between Wes and the brunette. “Why don’t I save you from Wes’ boring stories and buy you a drink?”
“A war hero buying me a drink?” The brunette asked, feigning shock.
Wes smiled to himself as Hobbie dropped a few credcoins on the bartop and led the brunette to an open table. It seemed that everything was going according to plan until... (T) Hobbie launches into a decidedly wholesome conversation or (U) he actually flirts back.
(F)
“Good to see you, Lieutenant Klivian,” said the brunette.
Wes rolled his eyes. Well that just took the fun right out of it, the game didn’t work if the target had actually met Hobbie. Especially if the relationship was business. Total buzzkill.
He let them continue with their shop talk for several minutes but cut them off when they hit the topic of BlasTec sidearms. If that had continued on any longer Wes was convinced he would have fallen into a boredom induced coma.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Hobs?” he cut in.
Hobbie looked confused. “This is Inyri Forge. You guys met after the Rogues took Coruscant.”
Wes searched his memory of the the rather blurry days, but came up with nothing more than a vague memory of meeting some hot pilots.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” continued Hobbie. “He was drunk off his ass the entire time.”
“I am terribly sorry, Inyri,” Wes said smoothly as he pried Hobbie away from her: ought he (K) make a play for Inyri himself or (AA) try for a more satisfying round of “Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?”
(G)
“Derek?” the stunning blond asked. “Derek Klivian?”
Hobbie buried his face in his hands. “I begged you not to, Wes.”
“Do I sense some history here?” Wes could feel a grin plastered on his face.
Wes had to admit that wasn’t quite how it normally worked. The acquired target wasn’t supposed to have actually met Hobbie before. He had to work quickly if he was going to salvage the game. As near as he could tell there were two options. The first was to trudge forward with the blond. The second was to abort and set their targeting computers on a new one.
“This is Edea,” Hobbie said bitterly. “She dumped me for my sister’s ex boyfriend in primary school.”
Abort, Abort, Abort!
“That wouldn’t have happened if you would have just–” but the blond was cut off by Wes dragging Hobbie away.
“You know,” Wes mused, “this game was more fun when we called it ‘Haaaaaave you met Bugbite’.”
“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”
“No time to argue, time to lock onto a new target!”
Hobbie groaned. “Oh Force, no.”
Ignoring his friend’s protests, Wes approached the (A) adorable brunette, (B) black-haired goddess, or (D) exquisite redhead (whose skirt was very short)...
(H)
“Wes?” the stunning blond asked. “Wes Janson?”
“Khaylia!” Wes exclaimed, throwing an arm around the woman. “Hobbie, this is Khaylia Zatoq, my first girlfriend in primary school.”
“Wes, I-” Hobbie started.
“What have you been up to since you left home, flyboy?” Khaylia said, cutting him off.
Wes offered his best casual shrug. “Oh, a little bit of this, little bit of that. Did the whole Rebellion Hero bit, you may have seen the wanted poster.”
“Wes, you really should-” Hobbie tried to interject.
“Rebellion hero?” Khaylia’s eyes lit up. “You mean like Wedge Antilles?”
Wes did his best not to wince. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Wes, will you just-”
Offering the blond his arm, Wes flashed the toothy smile that had melted the hearts of countless women. “What do you say we head back to my place and catch up, Khaylia?”
Hobbie buried his face in his hands.
“That sounds delightful,” Khaylia replied as she linked arms with him, walking out of the bar side by side.
The next morning in the mess hall none of the other men in the squadron would talk to Wes. Corran seemed particularly upset, muttering something about having to sleep on the couch for the next several decades. Confused, he sat down next to Hobbie and asked why he was getting the cold shoulder.
“I tried to tell you,” Hobbie said as he set a datapad down on the table. On it was a magazine article that had been published that morning.
The Slutty Men of Rogue Squadron by Khaylia Zatoq
“She’s a sludgenews reporter,” Hobbie said bitterly.
“Oh,” Wes said. “You think this has anything to do with me dumping her right before prom?”
Hobbie sighed and rubbed his temples, refusing to speak with Wes anymore.
It took a standard month before any of the other Rogue men said something other than “Blow it out your exhaust port” to Wes.
Good luck finding a wingman next time you're at a cantina, flyboy!
(I)
Oh, this was not good at all. As much fun as it was when the girls wanted him, Wes knew that watching Hobbie flounder (maybe) would be even more fun.
But how should he go about getting the skank to leave him alone? The most obvious way, of course, was to make himself completely undesirable. That way, though, lay trouble. If he loudly announced that he had some virulent venereal disease, then no one else would go home with him either.
Definitely a downside.
So ... other ways of deflecting her interest back to Hobbie. Hmm, he could maybe (P) tell her that Hobbie only had three weeks left to live or (Q) just screw tact and propose a threesome.
(J)
Screw the game. This girl was clearly into him, not Hobbie.
“Tell you what,” Wes continued, “You can just get to know me instead of Hobbie.”
Not twenty standard minutes later, he was [CENSORED] the [CENSORED] [LARGER WALL OF CENSORED] and [SO VERY CENSORED] in [CENSORED] through [CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED] X-Wing [CENSORED] thermal exhaust port two meters wide.
The [REALLY, DOES NO ONE CARE THAT THIS IS CENSORED FOR A REASON?] continued [CENSORED] Face Loran holovid [CENSORED] by [STOP. JUST STOP. YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW.]
Wes was convinced that he’d had the time of his life. That is, until he had to haul himself to the infirmary a few days later for an ointment for a rather painful rash.
Hobbie never did extract the details from him, but Wes was heard muttering that he really should’ve left the girl for Hobbie several times over the following weeks.
Should have remembered what they taught you during sex ed classes in primary school, flyboy!
(K)
“I keep saying,” Wes continued, “that I won’t get drunk at squadron parties, but it’s just so easy. Besides, Hobbie never cuts me off.”
Inyri grinned. “Oh, is he your keeper? I would have thought that the famed Wes Janson could take care of himself, but I guess I was wrong.”
“It’s just so much more fun to make Hobbie take care of me,” he retorted. Hobbie, he noticed peripherally, was inching away from them and towards an empty seat at the bar. Well, if Hobbie wasn’t interested ... that was that, then.
He sat down next to her. “So, Inyri...” Time to choose: did he (L) offer to buy her a drink or (M) try one of the wonderful lines from his collection?
(L)
“... can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” Inyri replied.
It took every ounce of self-control Wes possessed to keep his jaw from dropping. That one never worked, especially with any woman who’d met him. Or seen him drunk. This was a spectacularly rare opportunity for him.
“Barkeep!” Wes shouted. “Top off her drink.”
The bartender frowned at Wes. “Planning on paying back your tab anytime soon?”
Wes did his best not to flinch as he dropped his credchit on the bar-top. There went three weeks of pay. That, though, was a small price to pay if he could keep the attention of the lovely brunette pilot.
“I hope I’m not being too forward,” Wes said as the bartender filled her glass, “but would you like to...” (N) play it cool or (O) take a more direct approach?
(M)
“...do you work for the Interstellar Parcel Service? I could have sworn I saw you checking out my package.”
It seemed as if everyone sitting within five meters of them shifted backwards a touch. Without saying a word, Inyri stood from her seat and glared at Wes. Now that was confusing, normally that line was blaster-proof.
Inyri picked Wes up by the collar of his jacket and glared at him for several long, agonizing moments. Without so much as a word she drove her knee straight into his priority class package, knocking the wind out of him before letting go and letting him collapse onto the bar floor in a heap.
“Sorry, had to return it to the sender,” Inyri said as she stormed off.
Two things ran through his mind at that moment. The first was that he was fairly certain he would never walk again. The second was that the bar floor had a rather pretty looking texture from this angle.
Twelve-year-olds have better pick-up lines, flyboy!
(N)
“...catch a holovid tonight at my place?”
Wes expected the answer to be a definitive “no” but at least he had asked in a somewhat tactful manner. At worst he figured she would throw his drink in his face. The physical violence threat seemed low.
“You know,” Inyri said, “that sounds nice. I think I’ll take you up on that.”
“That’s okay,” Wes held up his hands. “I completely understand and I wouldn’t want to...” He paused. “What did you say?”
She smirked. “I said I’ll take you up on that offer.”
They finished their drinks and made their way out of the cantina. Wes couldn’t happen but notice the stunned look on Hobbie’s face as they walked past. A short stroll later they arrived at his modest living quarters.
Wes was tempted to put The Moves (patent secured several months earlier) on Inyri, but he thought better of it. They would watch a holovid like he promised, but which one? Wes reached for... (W) an action flick or (X) a romance holo.
(O)
“... head someplace a bit more private and do the Horizontal Ewok Shuffle?”
Perhaps that wasn’t quite the right way to say that.
Inyri suddenly stood up. She looked very, very offended and horrified (though mostly horrified). Three hours later Wes found himself in a medical wing bed, trying his best not to whimper in agony.
“I must say” the physician said, “I’ve never quite had an injury like this roll through my clinic before. Just how did you rupture your...”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wes said as he curled into the fetal position.
That was definitely not how “Haaaaaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” was supposed to end.
Good luck explaining that one to the other guys, flyboy!
(P)
“It really is a shame,” Wes said somberly. “Hobbie only has three weeks left to live. I brought him out to our favorite watering hole for just one more drink but...” He brushed at his eyes, patting himself on the back for launching the tears on cue. “I just want to see him happy before he goes, you know?”
The redhead in the very short skirt brought her hand up her mouth in surprise. Hobbie merely buried his face in his.
“And after all he’s been through!” Wes shook his head. “All of the TIE Fighters he’s vaped, the Death Star he survived, it’s illness that does him in.”
“Oh Hobbie!” the skank said. “You poor man.”
The old Three Weeks Left To Live stunt worked every time. Well, most of the time.
“Say, you know what Hobbie really could use?” Wes asked.
“For the love of the Force, stop Wes!” Hobbie pleaded.
“I think I do,” the skank said.
Wes was surprised by... (R) the skank making out with him on the spot or (S) the follow up question.
(Q)
Oh, what the hell, Wes decided.
“Say, guys, why don’t all three of us go back to my place?”
The skank looked at Hobbie. Hobbie looked at the skank. Wes looked at Hobbie, whose expression was slowly morphing from confusion to subtle but rapidly increasing revulsion.
“I ... Wes ... no ... but ... how?” he stuttered helplessly.
The skank looked relieved at Hobbie’s confusion but also seemed to be using it as means to slip away from the pair of them. Wes watched her sadly, wondering if it was still possible to go after her.
Unfortunately for him, the elapsed time was enough for Hobbie to recover his thought process.
“Wes. Ew. No,” he said forcefully.
And then he slapped Wes. Hard.
***
It was not until many years that Wes reaped the benefits of that particular lesson.
He stood on the planet of Adumar, watching Thanaer ke Sekae wobble on his feet. Wes knew he needed to knock him out with the next blow (mostly because he was bored).
All of a sudden, Hobbie’s stinging slap from the bar that night jumped into his mind.
“At least you could say you were knocked out by a well-struck blow of the fist,” he began.
At least you learned something this time, flyboy!
(R)
Wes was impressed. Normally “Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” didn’t end quite this quickly.
The skank had thrown herself at Hobbie. Apparently men with three weeks left to live were her thing, but to be fair, there was a certain allure to bedding someone you knew wouldn’t be around to tell the tale later.
The look of terror in Hobbie’s eyes as he was dragged away to whatever cheap hotel the skank was staying at was priceless. Wes wished he had taken a holoimage of it to frame and put on his desk.
The next morning Hobbie arrived in the mess hall looking rather...happy with himself. That was certainly strange. Normally after a night of debauchery he looked as if he wanted to crawl into a crater.
“You’re in a good mood,” Wes noted as he shoveled another bite of food into his mouth.
“Aima Eraston,” Hobbie said, folding his arms across his chest.
“What?”
“The holostar. Aima Eraston. I slept with her. Twice. Well, actually ...” Hobbie trailed off.
Wes blinked once. Then twice. “No, you slept with a random skank last night.”
Hobbie merely grinned in response.
“Oh Force.” Wes buried his head in his hands. “But, how...”
“Turns out she was hiding out in the cantina to get away from the sludgenews!” Hobbie beamed.
“And you...”
“Twice! Well, actually ...”
A single tear rolled down Wes’ cheek. Oh, what could have been...
The lesson here is to never judge a skank by their cover, flyboy!
(S)
“Could you tell me a little more about how you ended up in such a state?” the skank continued.
Hobbie looked stricken. “I, erm, got diagnosed with Synddra a few months ago. Must’ve picked it up from a mynock somewhere in the Corporate Sector. It causes severe inflammation of the, er, liver.”
Oddly, the skank started glaring at him.
Then she rolled her eyes.
“So you’re one of those guys who goes around bars lying about how much time he has left to live to get laid? Force. I’d throw my drink in your face, but medical training is too expensive to waste good drinks. Oh, and just so you know, Synddra can only be transmitted through blood, is most commonly found in the Hapes Cluster, and has absolutely nothing to do with mynocks.” She stormed off.
Wes grinned. Just what he’d been hoping for: the most amusing outcome possible for “Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?” The only way it could have been improved was if she had thrown her drink on him.
You are one cold-hearted jerk, flyboy!
(T)
Wes couldn’t believe it. Hobbie actually had the brunette eating out of his hand and they were talking about sports. It took everything he had not to reach out and smack him. Had he not retained a single lesson from the Wes Janson Guide to Women datacard?
“Sorry Hobbie, but the Corellian Dreadnaughts are going to slaughter Ralltiir Warriors,” the brunette said.
“You’re out of your mind,” Hobbie insisted.
Wes frowned. If Hobbie wasn’t going to take this seriously, he would. He pulled up a seat at the bar and inserted himself between Hobbie and the brunette. “Well you two seem to be hitting it off. Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
It was at that point the brunette broke into a fit of laughter. Hobbie joined her.
“I apologize,” Hobbie said through tears. “I was hoping we could pull this one off a little longer. Wes, this is Inyri Forge of Rogue Squadron.”
The brunette grinned. “Pleased to meet you Lieutenant Janson.”
“Oh,” Wes said. “So you two are...”
“Squadronmates,” Inyri explained.
“So you’re not...”
She shook her head. “I make it a point to not date my executive officer.”
And there was the opening. Hobbie caught the cue and excused himself, leaving Wes alone with Inyri.
“Sorry about that,” Wes said sheepishly. “We were playing-”
“‘Haaaaaaaaave you met Hobbie?’” Inyri finished.
Wes beamed. “Yes! You’ve played before?”
“Of course,” Inyri replied as she took a sip from her drink. “It’s only the greatest bar game in the Galaxy.”
“That it is,” Wes said. “Barkeep! Top off the lovely lady’s drink and put it on my tab.”
The bartender glared at Wes as he filled Inyri’s glass. “One of these days you’re going to have to repay that tab.”
Wes ignored him and turned back to the brunette pilot. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but would you like to...” (N) play it cool or (O) take a more direct approach?
(U)
Wes couldn’t believe it. Hobbie was actually playing along and flirting with the target. He wasn’t sure if he should feel proud that Hobbie had finally taken some initiative or annoyed that the game was on track to end far too quickly.
“So what brings a war hero like you to a hole-in-the-wall like this?” The brunette asked.
Hobbie looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, sometimes it’s just nice to kick your feet up and enjoy a cold one with the other heroes of the New Republic.” He offered the brunette a smile as he placed a hand over hers.
“A Hero? Me” The brunette’s eyes fluttered.
At this point Wes wasn’t sure who was actually in on the scheme anymore. Hobbie never behaved like this during the game.
“Absolutely,” Hobbie nodded. “I see those Kalidor wings on your jacket. What unit are you flying with?”
“Oh, just a little group called Rogue Squadron,” the brunette replied.
“Rogue Squadron?” Hobbie looked towards Wes with an amused smirk. “Why, that’s the same squadron I’m flying for!”
Now that just wasn’t fair. It was Wes who wasn’t in on the scheme. The brunette and Hobbie were working against him! A lesser man would have tried to get even right then, but Wes knew when a battle was lost.
“Well played,” Wes said as he clapped his hands together. “Now, why don’t you kids...”
(O) go someplace a bit more private or (V) enjoy your drinks?
(V)
“...enjoy yourselves and have another round on me.”
Wes tosses a few credcoins down on the bar and walked away from Hobbie and Inyri. It was a shame the game had ended so quickly, but at least Hobbie appeared to be having a good time. That should at least make him a touch more tolerable during morning briefings for a week or two.
Just as Wes was about to sit down at the bar with a drink and his thoughts as his only company, he spotted another patron enter the bar: the illustrious Wedge Antilles.
Wes looked up to the heavens above and mouthed a silent “thank you” before standing and walking towards his commanding officer. Perhaps it was the grin plastered on Wes’ face that was the giveaway, but Wedge’s smile gave way to a look of horror.
“Wes, no!” Wedge pleaded.
Too late.
Wes tapped a nearby blond wearing an old CorSec jacket on the shoulder.
“Haaaaaaaaave you met Wedge?”
There's always another wingman out there, flyboy!
(W)
... an Avadon Tiggs action flick.
The good news was that Inyri seemed to enjoy action holos. Really, really enjoy them. The bad news was that she spent far more time screaming at the hero than paying any attention to Wes. He had made a grave miscalculation.
“That was as much fun as I’ve had in months!” Inyri said as the holo credits rolled. “This should be a regular thing.”
Wes hopes soared. “I couldn’t agree more! Next week, same time?”
“Absolutely,” Inyri said. “I’ll invite some of the other guys over as well.”
He did his best not to let his disappointment show. “Other guys?”
“Sure. Gavin loves these holos,” Inyri mused aloud. “The new guy, Donos was it? He looks like he’d be interested. Corran could use some time away from Mirax...”
Wes plastered a smile onto his face as she continued to list names. He had really done it this time. Instead of Action Holo Night with Inyri, it was going to be Action Holo Night with Inyri, Gavin, Myn, Corran ...
You chose poorly, flyboy!
(X)
... an old Face Loran holo, of the sappiest variety.
The good news was that, thirty minutes later, Inyri was snuggled up against him. The better news was that she was giggling silently, which meant that Wes didn’t need to contain his own laughter.
Before long, the two of them were ridiculing every absurdity, from the silly plot to the melodrama of Face’s quest to find meaning in his life (or whatever it was that he was doing). Wes’ arm was wrapped around Inyri, and her face was buried against him, her shoulders shaking.
“Oh gods,” she squeaked, “Oh gods, did you see his face? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that ridiculous.”
“I have,” said Wes. “I’ve seen Loran himself try to defend his choice to make that face.”
“How do you know Loran?” she inquired.
“He’s in Wraith Squadron. Tries to downplay the Imperial propaganda holos, though.”
Inyri smirked. “You make fun of him anyway, right?”
“Of course! Now shush, this is the best part.”
On the screen, Face’s character and the similarly vapid heroine of the vid were leaning toward each other dramatically as the music swelled into what was probably meant to be an epic love theme. It was completely undermined, of course, by the actors’ facial expressions, but the music itself wasn’t half bad.
So Wes had a choice. He could either (Y) go in for a kiss or (Z) give in to the hilarity and laugh again.
(Y)
He leaned towards Inyri just as Face leaned towards his vapid heroine. She tilted her face up towards his and smiled softly.
Their lips met.
And was it ever an amazing kiss. Wes felt like Inyri was trying to pour herself into him and he returned in kind –
Inyri’s comlink beeped loudly. She cursed as she pulled it from her belt and answered it.
“Forge.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Uh-huh.” Another pause. “Kriff. You owe me so much. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Clipping her comlink back to her belt, she turned to Wes. “That was Hobbie. He asked me to spring him from a holding cell. He was a little thin on details, but I think some skanky girl was involved.”
As Inyri left, Wes sank into his couch and swore. Hobbie was not allowed to pick up girls by himself ever again. Ever.
Next time you had better find a babysitter for your wingman, flyboy!
(Z)
Just as Wes was about to close the final few, precious centimeters remaining between them Face’s foolish looking mug filled the holoscreen again. Wes couldn’t help it. He doubled over in another fit of laughter.
Dead. You are dead, Face Loran.
He looked up at Inyri, still unable to control himself. Wes half expected to be slapped for the wholly inappropriate outburst but instead, Inyri burst into howling laughter.
“I’ve heard better lines in an after school holo!” she said, gasping for breath.
“And the accents!” Wes wheezed. “Oh Force, the accents!”
Inyri was clutching at her sides. “I can pull off a better Corellian dialect!”
Just then Face uttered another absurd line. Wes lost his wits once more. Briefly he thought he heard a comlink sound, but whatever had caused the noise was instantly drowned out by Inyri joining in once more. Before long the holovid’s credits were rolling.
“Oh Toril!” Inyri exclaimed as she brought her hand to her forehead in a dramatic pose. “How can I possibly defy my father’s wishes?”
“Lenix, fair Lenix,” Wes held out a hand, re-enacting the overly melodramatic climax. “Your father’s demands pale in comparison to our love!”
“But if he discovers us he will have you put to death!” Inyri objected.
Wes stood, bringing Inyri to her feet. “Then we fly by the cover of darkness. Come with me, Lenix. Let us go to where no one will stand between us. Leave this all behind!”
“Then, Toril, I have no choice,” Inyri said as she looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his own. “Tonight, we fly. Embrace me now!”
Lost in the moment, Wes wrapped his arms around Inyri and drew her into him. “We fly, Lenix. Let us seal this...”
Before he finished the quote, Inyri pressed her mouth to his, kissing him thoroughly.
The following morning they arrived in the mess hall together.
“I wonder where Hobbie is,” Wes said. “He’s usually here at 0800 sharp.”
Inyri shrugged. “Maybe he decided to play the game by himself?”
For a short while they made idle chatter. Then Face Loran walked into the mess. Inyri was the first to break into shrieks of laughter. For a brief moment Wes felt bad for Face. Then he remembered the Corellian accent.
Wes grinned. He was rather looking forward to next week’s Face Loran Holovid night with Inyri.
Well played, flyboy!
(AA)
“...but Hobbie and I need to...” Wes trailed off, muttering something incoherent.
Inyri looked at Hobbie. “Is this that game you were telling me about?”
“I’m afraid so,” Hobbie replied glumly.
“My sympathies,” Inyri said as she returned her attention to her drink.
Hobbie breathed a sigh of relief and raised a hand to grab the bartender’s attention. Before he could say anything Wes spun him around to face the field of potential targets.
“That didn’t work quite as well as I had hoped,” Wes admitted, “but the night is still young.”
Hobbie rubbed his temples and sighed as Wes scanned the field once again. That had been too close of a call. The game had nearly ended on the worst possible outcome, boring shop talk between coworkers. At least there was still time to recover.
Grinning, Wes grabbed Hobbie, leading him towards... (B) a classy-looking dark-haired woman, (C) a striking blond, or (D) a redhead in a very short skirt?
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If you liked this CYOA fic you should check out "Flight School" by Otahyoni
http://yonwords.livejournal.com/2315.html
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(And, um, sorry if my staying up late proved to be internet-contagious. I was up way past my bedtime posting this, so ...)
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I could quote and squee about at least 75% of the lines here! Though I think my favourite was the bit about Wes' package. Or maybe "Haaaaaaaaave you met Wedge?"
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Admittedly the "Priority Class Package" line was my favorite bit.
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Poor Wedge, poor Hobbie ... but I do love Wes/Inyri! :)
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Thanks for reading and reviewing :D
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I haven't even finished going through all the options, but so far I'm totally enjoying what I'm reading! I always loved CYOA books! We need MORE of these!
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This was easily the most fun I've had writing in -ages-
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Lane is right, this was insanely fun to write. I kept making myself giggle in public ...
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And of course, thank you for your own CYOA fic. We loved it so much we blatantly lifted the format :D
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(Augh, now I need to catch up on the rest of your fics in the last few months. Eventually!)
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(Tell Lane to write less and your job will become easier. :P)