Dedicated to bookdragon01, whose Star Trek characters keep talking like Jedi.
Disclaimer: I OWN EVERYTHING! IT'S MINE, MINE, MINE! AHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! *is carted off by the men in white coats*
"Tell me again w-why we're watchin' this?" Luke stared at a show so old it couldn't be properly brought up into holovid mode. The man beside him hiccupped and waved his hand in a grand gesture.
"'Cause iss the solid foundation on which our entire society is based upon," Wedge Antilles said knowledgeably. "Is about good triumphin' over evil an' about solvin' problems an' friendship an' beautiful women." Wedge took another swig and blinked at the screen, where Captain Kirk was now staring at something in a very unusual manner. "An' it's really fun to watch when you're hammered."
Luke hummed happily, having to concede to that point. When Wedge dragged him away from his beloved X-wing earlier, he hadn't really protested. The morning had greeted him with a "Grounded Until Further Notice" for all pilots, making it over 2 weeks where he'd been stuck inside. He'd thought about repairing some of the damage taken in the last training run, but R2 was a very careful little droid and despite his best effort, Luke couldn't find anything to fix. So short of uninstalling and reinstalling the warp drive under the guise of 'understanding' it (Luke's previous plan) there was nothing to.
Wedge eyed his far-too-young co-commander, now swaying a little in his seat, and silently congratulated himself on a job well done. It was the Rebels' first winter on Hoth and Luke's first winter period. Snow had been a novelty for the younger man the first few months and they'd been kept pretty busy helping to finish the base. But now, with the whole center running smoothly and a superstorm outside causing near blackout conditions, the older man had noticed his desert-raised friend starting to mope. The 'Grounded' Notice was hard on any pilot, but especially so on idealistic farmboys. So, following Wedge's tried and true, never fail recipe for curing cabin fever, here they were. A bottle of Wedge's secret stash, an empty breakroom, and a copy of his favorite indulgence made Wedge a happy man. It was only after he'd pressed play that he'd found out-
"'Never watched 'Trek,'" Wedge snorted again, shaking his head consolingly. "Yer lucky I'm here, kid."
"I've seen it before," Luke said quickly. "Just never watched 'em all."
"Same thing." Wedge poured them each another shot and motioned impatiently for Luke to down his before he did the same. Kid was lucky he wasn't the hazing type.
"An' it teaches, too, ya know," he continued, then glared at the now snickering kid. "Well it does. Jonas swears when he got caught last year, he escaped the same way Wha-shis-name did in DS9."
"Jonas, from Green Squadron?" Luke looked incredulous. "The one you said was crazy?"
Wedge nodded and shrugged. "Yeah. Is prolly why it worked."
"Can't teach how to fight."
Wedge chuckled, remembering the Gorn. "No, it can't. But keep watchin' anyways." Wedge leaned forwards and dropped his voice to a near whisper. "Maybe it'll teach ya how to pick up girls."
Luke fully blamed the alcohol (and by association, Wedge) for his inability to come up with a witty responce.
The two fell into a companionable silence, content to let McCoy swear, Spock reason, and Kirk flirt. Several shots and another episode later, Wedge happened to glance over at his quiet wingmate.
"Wha the hell are you doin'?"
"'M learnin'." Luke stared at Captain Kirk, trying to force his face into the exact expression the captain wore when the alien chick came in. It was a good expression, sort of a I'm-interested-in-you-in-a-confident-manly sort of way. And, more importantly, she'd responded to it. In fact...
"Do ya think tha'd work on Leia?"
Wedge was praying he'd remember this in the morning. "I'd try it on the lil blonde in Resources first. Not so much eyebrow, though- tha's more Spock's thing."
"That's more who's thing?" Han Solo stood in the doorway, grinning as the two had to catch themselves when they turned. "Nothing like a steady hand on a pilot, huh, Chewy?"
The Wookiee started to rumble his amusement, then cocked his head to one side. The rumble turned questioning.
"I don't know, I just walked- the hell are you doing, kid?"
"'E's practicin'," Wedge snorted, biting his lip to keep from laughing. At Han's questioning look, he clarified. "'E thinks it'll help him get girls." This time he did laugh, but only because Han did so first.
Luke gave Wedge his best impersonation of Kirk's outraged-insulted look. "Mind your own business, Mister Antilles! I'm sick of your half-breed interference, do you hear?"
"Those beautiful words, well acted, change nothing."
"No blah, blah, blah!"
"I'm Captain Kirk, I'M CAPTAIN KIRK!"
"KHHAAAAAANNNNN!"
Han and Chewbacca exchanged a stunned glance before turning back to the dueling pilots. Han felt his grin grow wider as he took in the holo vid screen and the half empty bottle. "Must be good stuff," he muttered as Luke and Wedge continued their spontaneous Kirk-off. Chewbacca growled, clapping Han heavily on the shoulder.
"Alright I will," Han laughed. "Amatures." The Wookie roared his laughter as Han claimed a chair and the rest of Luke's glass.
"Now, gentlemen," a dramatic pause and a charismatic smile ensured their attention. "That's. Not Quite Right. Your words. LIKE THIS. You. Must Be Dramatic! And. Yet serious. You Must Be Confident. To be. CAPTAIN KIRK."
Han chuckled at Luke's crestfallen expression. Wedge looked suitably impressed. "Damn. Tha was good. Ya had the faces an' everything. How'd ya do it?"
"It's all in the attitude, Wedge." Han helped himself to the rest of the bottle. Luke still looked at little put out.
"So wha was wrong with my Kirk? I thought it was pretty good."
"Sorry, Junior. You've got at least 10 years to go before you can pull off a decent Kirk."
Wedge patted his shoulder in consolation as Chewbacca let out a yodeling gronk, looking decidedly smug. Han burst into laughter.
"Highly logical, Mr. Chewy." Eyes twinkling, Han leaned forwards to deliver the closing argument. "You, Commander, cannot be Kirk, because you are not the starship captain with the alien first mate."
Luke was still learning how to tell the Wookie's emotions apart, but even in his current inebriated state he knew Chewbacca was laughing his furry ass off as he lifted a huge paw and gave Luke the Vulcan salute.
"Wai-wai-wai-wait. Hang on." Luke poked Han's arm, completely missing the humor that caught the other three as he tried to resolve this. "So if yer Kirk an' Chewy's Spock, then who am I?"
The few workers loitering in the hallways found sudden reasons to move to the opposite side of the base as Princess Leia stalked by. To say Leia was having a bad day was like saying Coruscant was a little crowded. Two failed diplomatic treaties, a politely vague response from a potential financial backer, and at least 5 requests (read: demands) for help from the galaxy famous Princess Leia. Add to that a brawl in Engineering that yanked her away from her first cup of kaff that morning, and you got a Princess a half inch away from a murderous rampage.
Leia stomped into the breakroom, barely noticing the drunken argument coming from the room's only occupied table. Hunger and caffeine withdrawal fought to be the first appeased as she punched in commands for strong kaff and a late breakfast, a blue gleam catching her eye.
There was a bottle on the table between Han and Wedge. Hmmmmm. If she was lucky, this wasn't 'Guy Time' and they'd ask her over. Lord knew she needed a drink. And Han did call her, but only to ask something about the blizzard outside.
"I don't know, Han," Leia felt a stab of annoyance, waiting for her food to finish. "I'm a diplomat, not a weather forecaster. You'll have to ask- What?"
Four heads snapped around to gape at her in various stages of astonishment. Warning bells began to toll as a slow, satisfied grin spread over Han's face.
"Well, that settles that problem," he drawled, exchanging a knowing look with the other three before turning back to her. A slight glaze in his eyes told Leia they'd been at this long before she'd got there. "So tell me, Doctor," he leaned back, still grinning. "If we were trapped in a subterranean mine with a silicon-based life form, what would you do?"
"What the hell are you babbling about?" Leia snarled before she could stop herself. "I'm a diplomat. Dip-lo-mat, Han! Not a doctor."
Her show of temper, however, only seemed to delight the men.
"Wha 'bout if a knight came chargin' outta the forest?" Wedge chimed in.
"If a what-"
"Nonono," Luke broke in, looking far too drunk for someone his age. "Could ya finda cure if the whole crew started actin' crazy?"
"Don't you think I'd've used it if I could?" *Count to 10, Leia. Kaff's FINALLY ready. Snapping at Luke will get you nowhere...
"For shame, gentlemen," Han cast a reproachful glare at the other two. Leia froze, feeling her jaw drop. There were not words to accurately describe the look he was now giving her... "She's a princess, not a doctor."
Leia felt her hackles rise. Han could set her off easier than anyone in the galaxy and in this mood-
The strange look intensified.
"Ya know, Princess, I'd like to beam you up to my spaceship and give you the grand tour..."
The straw that breaks the bantha's back is always small, and on any other day, Leia might have laughed it off, or made a snarky comment about small spaceships. Today, however, there was an almost audible sound as her temper snapped.
Leia stormed out, kaff in hand, hitting the door command so hard it almost broke. Stupid Han. There was far better -and less drunk- company to be found around the base.
She liked Janeway better anyhow.
Luke, Han, and Chewbacca stared in silence at the English muffin stuck to the front of Wedge's shirt.
"Damn," Han shook his head in near disbelief. "Red Shirt takes it for the team."
Chewbacca choked a warbling laugh as Wedge picked at the muffin. "'M a pilot," he said mournfully. "Thought I was Sulu."
"Nope!" Han slapped a hand on Luke's shoulder. "This is Sulu. Also a pilot AND has a sword," he added, pleased with his reasoning.
"'E's too young, 'e should be Chekhov. 'Sides, s'not a sword, 'sa lightsaber."
"Same thing. Wha's with the look, kid? An' don't tell me you actually wanna be Chekhov-"
Luke stared blankly at the empty bottle of Corellian rum. "'Iss gone. Whysit gone?"
Han and Wedge shared the superior look of those-able-to-hold-alcohol-better-than-Tattooine-farmboys. Chewy shook his head and growled. Han shrugged. "He'll learn. Come on, kid." He hauled the younger man to his feet and motioned for Chewbacca to grab Wedge. "On my last trip to Selonia, I picked up some 'Romulan ale' you're goin' to love..."
First story, so please r&r!