Good Sense
Sate Pestage bought two bottles of Amore Peribat since it is the only brand of wine that can combat the source of his woes: Sheev Palpatine. Somehow, most likely because the Force hates him, Palpatine was reduced to his twenties. The Jedi believe the source of this sudden de-aging is Dathomirian witchcraft and are working on a counter-curse. Sate hopes the cure will come soon before he dooms his liver.
The way Skywalker and Amidala hang onto him; I'll be drinking myself to death! Of course, they would wait until he was young to make their move. Bloody cowards, believing that he's as horny as they are. But he's with them now because he has to maintain his kindly appearance. Even if it means he has to go to bed with them…
Sate sighs deeply as he types in his security codes and the door slides open, letting him inside for a night that he presumes he'll forget by tomorrow.
"Ah, Sate, you've brought the wine." Palpatine nearly purrs from his spot on the lavender pouf couch. The moon-pale youth is lounging in crimson synthsilk nightwear and matching loafers that hides most of his flawless skin, but the artisan hands and hawkish face taunt Sate with their nudity. His fiery hair falls around his head like a halo; Sate is half-certain that he must've died and this fallen angel is here to escort him to one of the Seven Sith Hells.
"Sate, the wine." Sate moves at the beck and call of the baritone, but his feet trip over themselves. He falls face-first into the wooden floor and waits for the inevitable sound of shattering glass. He looks up and sees Palpatine standing before him with the brown paper bag of wine safe in his cool embrace.
"Sate, you've better not drunk this wine." His tease is sharp enough to add another cut to Sate's wounded heart.
"I haven't, sir." He admits softly, admiring the elegant silhouette of young Palpatine.
"Then, get up and get the glasses."
"The glasses?"
"For the both of us. Unless you're tired." His yellow eyes burn with mocking mirth, but Sate doesn't mind being the butt of the joke.
"Of course, sir." He gets up and goes quickly to his kitchen for two flutes. By the time he returns, Palpatine is fiddling with the viewscreen's remote.
"We shall watch this." Palpatine announces with a note of excitement like he's come across a new opera. The holo in question is about the friendship of a demon and an angel trying to prevent Armageddon. Sate has been meaning to watch it, but he wonders why Palpatine is interested in this particular holo.
"Yes, sir." He moves towards his Chancellor and hands him a flute. He then turns and heads for the nearby lounger since the couch belongs to Palpatine now.
"Sate, you don't want to sit with me?" He feigns hurt as well as mercy. Sate returns and sits down on the couch with him, careful to give his Chancellor space.
Palpatine smiles at him, and Sate's heart twists until it tears itself in two.
Half way into the holo's first series, Palpatine finds his assistant fast asleep. A bottle of fine, if melodramatic, wine and a day of misery has put his future emissary into dreamless bliss. He turns the viewscreen off and removes himself from the couch. He strides to the hallway closet and pulls out a Tyrian purple blanket down. He returns to the couch and uses the Force to take off Sate's boots and then bring his legs up on the couch. He covers Sate with the blanket.
He goes into the kitchen and fishes a bottle of emerald wine from the top of the refrigerator. He takes his bottle and his flute to the guest room, completely determined to finish the series and the bottle.
Sate lets out a drunken snore from the couch, and Palpatine lets out a quiet chuckle.
He's a fool in love, but he's my fool.
Author's Comments- No links this time.
I was inspired to write this after watching Good Omens, and you bet Palps's sweet arse that he's going to get himself a Bentley like Crowley's one day.
Palpatine wasn't in the mood to be the "plaything" of Anakin and Padmé; he decided that the best way of getting out of that seduction from hell is by faking his own kidnapping. He decides that he will hide out at Sate's place for the next few days, watching Game of Thrones. By then the youth spell would've worn off, unfortunately, all of Sate's wine would be gone, but Sate doesn't mind since his unrequited love isn't banging/getting banged by the Amidala-Skywalker couple. So, in a way, Sate wins. And so does Kinman because he's not in this, which means Sate didn't have to stab him.