This may be a stand alone, or I may continue the story. I have had it in my head, and several other Rogue Squadron focused stories, recently, and wanted to return to fanfiction under a new name and with new material. Hopefully it doesn't suck.
It was always on the sly that their eyes would meet. Usually over the exuberant heads of their wing-mates, a shared reserve leading them to roll their eyes, as though synchronized, at the antics before them. But it wasn't only in such moments, and from the beginning there was a connection that came from their common past, from the origins of their relationship of friendship. When people have experienced the same events, the same teachings, sometimes a turn of phrase or reaction would lead them to glance at the other in shared remembrance of that history. And for two, such as them, sometimes those shared glances were more meaningful and expressive of that connection than mere words.
In the beginning of their re-acquaintance the past had been mostly surface; a few moments where they had recognized one another but no more. It had been the development of a lifeline, a connection to help adjust to life and the methods of the Rebellion, which allowed them to grow closer. They had shared experiences, shared training, shared comrades, but they had all been done separately. It was only when they met again as Rebels that everything clicked into place. Hobbie had been a part of the Rebellion for a while already, and understood how different things were from the Imperial Academy, and more importantly, he was willing to share what he had learned and to be a shelter when it was occasionally overwhelming.
It changed when he became more sure of himself and how he fit in with the others, the squadron, other Rebels in general. Still waters run deep, and the pebble had sunk to the bottom of the lake; he had found his niche and while he hadn't grown past Hobbie they had different roles to fill as time passed. He was the sober, responsible one taking on more leadership roles; Hobbie was the sober, but . . . he wasn't sure how to describe the roles Hobbie had taken on in his friendship with Wes and the way he played a vital role within the squad, and while he may not have had as high a rank Hobbie was almost always close to it. Not that rank was very important to either of them.
And still there were those moments throughout their friendship that only hinted at something more beneath the surface, that pebble still laying on the sand below. Some nights that pebble felt like an entire asteroid belt in his bed, when he was alone and remembering a time when he had not been. Right after he had come to the Rebellion and he had desperately clung to Hobbie as his security, his reassurance that he had not made a mistake, that he belonged, that everything would not be ripped from him again as his home had been. Hobbie had always seemed willing to cling to him in return, not saying anything about what it meant or hinting at their secrets when with the others. Tycho wasn't sure when it had all changed, when they had stopped clinging to one another and had grown quiet, sharing only those meaningful glances for so long.
And then everything shifted again, without a word being said between them, and that little rock had dug into his shoulder blades again, making his lonely bed far too empty to not reach out once more. One night, when Wes was joking about relationships within the squadron, Tycho's eyes met Hobbie's and there was something there that he hadn't put a label to before. It was more than lust, though that was there too. There was longing, and for the first time Tycho had to ask himself if he had been deliberately obtuse in not seeing that there was something more that he was denying when they had been clinging to one another. Had he been hurting Hobbie by not seeing this before?
He started watching Hobbie more closely, which only served to make his friend more nervous when they were together. It also caught the attention of Wes, who seemed to make up his own reasons for the behavior, but had enough consideration for Hobbie's feelings not to say anything about it. That didn't stop him from giving Tycho accusatory looks occasionally though. Watching only showed him that he had blinded himself before, and that he was being hurtful even if it was not purposeful.
Making a decision about what to do after that was easy. He waited in a corridor, when he was reasonably sure that Hobbie was on his way to the sims and would be alone, and grabbed him. Hobbie didn't have a chance to protest before Tycho had pulled him into closet, shoved his back against the wall and kissed him hard. Tycho didn't let go until Hobbie pushed at his shoulder, and then he broke away, breathing hard.
Hobbie pushed him again, trying to move away from whatever was jabbed into his shoulder, "Force! What is this all about?" He glanced around the closet, "Tycho, are you insane, or did Wes put you up to this?" He tried to push away from the wall again, "Tycho, let me go."
"I'm sorry, I just-" Tycho was still catching his breath, and he paused to collect his thoughts, "I want you. I had to tell you, I couldn't not tell you anymore." He leaned in, still pressing Hobbie against the wall, and slid a hand across his friend's cheek. "I think I'm in love with you."
If he thought that Hobbie was going to melt into his arms at such a declaration he was sadly mistaken. "Let me go. Now."
Tycho did step away then, releasing all hold he had on Hobbie. "I'm sorry."
"Are you sorry because you love me, or are you sorry that this is your way of telling me?" Hobbie's expression was blank, his breathing even, and now that he was away from the wall his posture was so perfect the Academy instructors could have given him ribbons for it.
"I'm sorry for this, I didn't know what else to do." He rubbed his eyes, "I just wanted to tell you without everyone else getting in the way."
Hobbie sighed, and relaxed slightly, "That doesn't seem fair. Wes has been teasing me about us for months. Now I'll have to tell him that he was right and he'll be insufferable for even longer."
"Does that mean that there is an "us" or that it's possible?" Tycho wanted to reach out again, to touch, but didn't dare face the possible rejection.
"You know, you've been staring at me for months. It was disturbing, I wasn't sure if you were angry at me, or if you wanted to jump me in a deserted corridor. I guess it was the latter, but Wes thought that you would want more than just to grope me in a closet. Was he right about that too?"
Tycho nodded, "I want more." He wished he had the glib nature that Janson always showed, making a smart remark might break some of the tension he felt between them. "Did you actually discuss that possibility with Wes?"
Hobbie shrugged. "Like I said, he's been teasing me for months." He looked around the closet briefly, "Tycho, could we at least get out of here and go somewhere more comfortable? This place smells like cleaning fluid and there are three housekeeping droids watching. If you plan to grope me again I don't want holos leaking to the net."
"Does that mean that I can grope you if I have a plan?" Tycho backed up, triggering the door open, "I can devise a plan if you want one."
Hobbie snorted, "You can plan for groping, but couldn't come up with anything better than this for talking about your feelings? Maybe I should develop the plan." He smirked. "One with visual aids. I know how much you like graphic representations in mission briefings." He followed Tycho out into the hallway, which was still quiet.
"Let's go to my quarters," Tycho reached out and slid his hand down Hobbie's arm before turning it into a gesture to indicate the direction they should walk.
"I'll agree to that, this time, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to sleep with you right away. I'm not that easy, you know. Some seduction outside of a closet is expected." Hobbie smirked again as Tycho blushed. "If I have to put up with the teasing from Wes, so do you."