Title: Like Soft Intentions
Author: djcati
Fandom: Star Wars Rogue Squadron (post-Union)
Characters: Wes/Hobbie(/Inyri)
Summary: Hobbie's getting married tomorrow. But tonight?
Rating: R
Notes: This is kinda gratuitous ficcage. ...sorry. And - SLASH.
Words: 1445
even if you shouldn't be here
i cannot help myself with you
something that i should have said
we won't get a second chance
just one night is all we'll spend
together and it's killing me
snow patrol - "black and blue"
"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Face. ... Well, that was fun."
"You should've drunk more! And you should've taken advantage of the other things on offer. You'll never be able to again!"
"Uh huh. I don't think I even want to know where you got the Twi'leks from."
"There's this great strip club just where the north border of Invisec used to be-"
"I said I didn't want to know."
"If you're sure..."
Hobbie sighed, then yawned, stretching his arms above his head and looking round. The bar the Rogues and Wraiths had hired was empty now, apart from himself, Wes - who sat opposite him, grinning - and the barman, collecting glasses from various tables, a frown on his face.
He rubbed at his eyes and then looked at Wes. "I still can't believe you planned something this big. When I said not to."
Wes's grin grew wider, and he waved a hand dismissively. "I had to! My best friend's getting married and you think I'm gonna let him have a quiet party?"
"Everyone is going to be hungover at the wedding tomorrow."
"I know."
"Inyri's going to kill you."
Wes just grinned.
Hobbie sighed again and rubbed at the back of his head. He hadn't drunk much, especially compared to Wes and the others, but it was still going to hurt in the morning. Well, at least there wouldn't be any disruptions from Imperials...hopefully. "Come on," he said, getting to his feet and tugging Wes to his by his shirt sleeve. "Got eight hours or so to sleep this off..."
Still grinning, Wes followed him as they left the bar and made their way back to the Rogue Squadron barracks. Maybe he hadn't been drinking as much as Hobbie thought he had - he didn't stumble on his way or even flirt with random passers-by - but he did annoy Hobbie with jokes and suggestive insults, along with ideas about what he and Inyri would be doing this time tomorrow.
By the time they reached Hobbie's quarters, Wes had apparently joked himself out, or gotten tired of his friend's non-replies. He waited as Hobbie unlocked his door, instead of wandering off to his own apartment further down the corridor, and kept waiting when the door was unlocked and Hobbie took a step inside.
So he paused and turned round again, resting a hand on the doorjamb. "Wes?"
"Can I come in?" he asked without preamble, and pushed past without waiting for an answer, making his way to the repulsorcouch against the far wall.
Hobbie blinked and looked at him in confusion. He hesitated a second, then switched on the overhead light and slowly closed the door again, studying Wes for a moment. He seemed just a little distressed, his grin slipping, and Hobbie knew that if he could see it, then Wes was feeling it too strongly to hide it. Now he was worried, and he tried to shake off the effects of the alcohol in his system as he joined Wes on the couch.
They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then, leaning against the back, Wes glanced at Hobbie. "Just wanted to hang out a little," he said nonchalantly.
"Hang out," Hobbie repeated dryly. Only one dim light was working, and the holoprojector was switched off.
"Yeah," Wes confirmed, trying hard to keep his voice casual. "Just ourselves, before...tomorrow."
"Before I get married."
Wes hesitated. "Yeah."
Hobbie frowned. "Um...Wes, don't take this personally, but I really need to get to sleep or I'm going to die tomorrow. We can hang out next week..."
"Right." Wes hesitated again. "If Inyri lets you."
Uh oh. What does he mean... "Inyri's not going to stop us hanging out, Wes." Why does he look so... Hobbie couldn't think how to describe it. Hesitant. Disbelieving. Un-Wes-like...
Wes shook his head and smiled suddenly, a smile that Hobbie could see right through. "Of course not. And I mean, it's not like we really hang out all that much anymore anyway."
Again, he thought, uh oh. "Wes-"
"Not like we used to. We're always with everyone else now, it's never just us, just Wes and Hobbie, teaming up to scare the Coruscant populace."
"Wes..."
"We're still best friends, right?"
Hobbie paused a heartbeat, but Wes was just looking at him, waiting for an answer, his blue eyes frozen. "Of course we are-"
"We are," Wes repeated, nodding. Then he looked away, up at the ceiling, blinking. "You remember, it used to be just us?" His voice was quiet; he wasn't really trying to grin anymore. "In the mess hall, in bars, and it didn't matter if no one else was there?"
"Yeah-"
"Just us," Wes repeated again, "and nothing could separate us? Not the law, not Wedge, not a fight...not the night time..."
And Hobbie shivered, because he did remember. He remembered warmth; a body beside him that would still be there in the morning, for definite. He remembered whispers in his ear, breath over his neck, promises and kisses and absolute honesty. He remembered a lover with dark hair and blue eyes, and he had to look away because he remembered the day when it all stopped.
He'd been speaking to Inyri more and more, and she'd asked him out, and he'd gone. And they'd slept in her quarters that night, and he'd gone to breakfast the next morning, and Wes had said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a look, just clear blue eyes, and that was all. And neither of them had spoken about it since.
Until now.
"You remember," Wes whispered, and it sounded like an accusation.
Hobbie still couldn't look at him. "I remember." I can't forget.
"Hobbie..." Wes paused. "Do you love her?" His voice was still a whisper.
Hobbie let his breath out slowly, and finally turned to look back at Wes. He almost wished he hadn't - Wes was looking right at him, meeting his eyes, demanding an answer. "You know I do..."
Wes didn't react, didn't break eye contact. "I need to hear it from you."
And will that make everything OK? You know it won't. "I love her."
Finally Wes looked away, down at his hands; he had twisted half-round to look at Hobbie more comfortably, and suddenly didn't seem to have the energy to move back into his previous position. "Yeah. I guess you do. I guess I always figured you'd get married eventually, and I'm not surprised, and..."
Wes continued to ramble, and Hobbie watched him, only half-listening. He couldn't stand this. Wes was supposed to be happy... Happy as ever, happy for him. But now he looked like the saddest thing in the galaxy, and Hobbie just couldn't stand it, and he reached a hand over, tilted Wes's chin back up, leaned forward and kissed him.
The words stopped, and they didn't start again. Wes kissed him back, and Hobbie let him, and neither of them needed to explain themselves. Wes's arms wrapped around him, and at some point when time was meaningless, they both stumbled to their feet, touching, kissing, undressing, ending up in Hobbie's room, on his bed, nothing between them and still no words.
They didn't need words. It had been years since the last time, but years didn't mean anything right then. Time and distance didn't matter. Hobbie still knew the taste of Wes's kiss; Wes still knew that touching here would make Hobbie moan, touching there would make him louder. Everything - every touch, every moan, every gasp - was familiar.
Hobbie broke off the kiss for a second, looking up into blue eyes, and thought he might say something. But then Wes's hand brushed hair from his forehead, and his body pressed even closer, and Hobbie closed his eyes, continuing the kiss to stifle a loud moan as his friend - his lover - entered him.
It felt the same, just as good, better, than he remembered. Then he didn't remember anything, could focus on nothing but Wes - how to please him, how to be pleased, how to share...
It didn't last long, but time was meaningless. Afterwards, Hobbie lay in Wes's arms, face buried in his shoulder, drifting off to sleep. A feeling flickered in his mind, something like love, but something more like regret. Something like, this shouldn't have happened. Or maybe, this can't ever happen again. He thought of a lover, then of a fiancee, then he fell asleep, only slightly troubled.
All he found when he woke was Wes's scent, warm and familiar, and a scrap of flimsi by his bed.
I love you, it said, and Hobbie's heart ached. I'm sorry.
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