Tycho Who?
by Kativic
Summary: Tycho and Wedge talk over a bad mood.
Rating: I'll give PG:13 for language, just to be safe
Spoilers: Not really, unless you have no clue as to who Wedge, Tycho, Wes, Hobbie, etc.
are.
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, I just like to mess with them. Don't sue me, OK?
Flames/Praise: luke_sky_rulz@hotmail.com
Wedge Antilles sat at a mess hall table, glowering at the cup of what the Alliance
insisted was tea. He had been called back early from leave because a significant minority
of people were out sick. Add that to the fact his own throat was starting to get a little
raw, you get one really pissy Rogue. He didn't even like tea.
Sipping from the steamy mug, Wedge grimaced as the tea burnt his tongue and
continued its rampage down his already suffering esophagus. Placing the cup back on the
table, he brought his finger up to touch his now numb, and slightly swelling, tongue.
"You know, you're supposed to let it cool before you drink it," a voice said from
behind him.
"Don't bother me now, Tycho," Wedge grumbled.
"Who me?" Tycho asked.
"No, Tycho Brahe."
Tycho sat down and looked at his friend in confusion. "Who's Tycho Brahe?" he
asked. Wedge looked at Tycho.
"My pet fist, would you like to meet him?" Wedge retorted sarcastically. Tycho
was only trying to have a normal conversation with him, but Wedge really didn't feel like
being amicable. Out with the pleasantness, in with the bitter humor.
"Are you always this much of a riot when you're called off leave? We should do
that more often." Tycho started to grin. "Yeah, you'll be in the middle of some hot date
and we'll send spies after you to make sure we can call you back on duty before you can
get any." Wedge shot a dirty look at Tycho.
"Well, that explains why Wes and Hobbie are always talking to Bothans," Wedge
responded dryly. Tycho started to chuckle low in his throat. At least the commander still
had his sense of humor, he had begun to worry.
"I'm sure Wes 'n Hobbie will love to hear that one, sir."
"Why are you here? Can't you see I want to mope in peace?" Wedge started to
whine.
"We need you to help Gavin with something-" Wedge interrupted him.
"I don't want to deal with Gavin right now. He's whinny and I'll just smack him
upside the head instead of doing any good." Tycho was laughing harder now, pulling
another dirty look from Wedge.
"Well... he is whinny, you have to admit that."
"True... So... do you plan on doing anything today?" Tycho asked, jokingly.
"Sure," Wedge said, quite seriously, "I think I already told you that I was going to
mope."
"That isn't really doing anything, Wedge..."
"There was a verb in the sentence wasn't there? That means I'm doing
something." Wedge once again picked up his tea. He once again burnt his tongue.
"Put some ice in it, OK? You'll save you're mouth a lot of suffering."
"Shut up, blondie."
"Don't call me blondie," Tycho said darkly.
"Why not?"
"That's Lukie's nickname, remember?"
"Oh yeah.... Yours is Poopy Pants."
"OK, now you're just being infantile, Wedge." Tycho paused. "Poopy Pants?
Couldn't you be a little more creative?"
Wedge raised and eyebrow. "What would you rather me call you? Peni-"
Tycho quickly slapped his hand across Wedge's mouth.
"Ow, now that was uncalled for," Wedge said as he rubbed his sore face, but he
was grinning.
"No, not at all. You were just going to call me a "ahem jumper" in the middle
of the mess hall," Tycho said with mild annoyance. It was one thing if Wedge said it in
private, but something else in there were 500 people around you.
"You're no fun." Wedge was laughing now, no longer in his foul mood. He
grinned at Tycho.
"Come on, Commander," Tycho said, "finish your tea so we can go see what
Gavin needs help with." Wedge looked at his cup and sighed.
"Can I smack him upside the head?" Wedge asked.
"Once."
The End
by Kativic
Summary: Tycho and Wedge talk over a bad mood.
Rating: I'll give PG:13 for language, just to be safe
Spoilers: Not really, unless you have no clue as to who Wedge, Tycho, Wes, Hobbie, etc.
are.
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, I just like to mess with them. Don't sue me, OK?
Flames/Praise: luke_sky_rulz@hotmail.com
Wedge Antilles sat at a mess hall table, glowering at the cup of what the Alliance
insisted was tea. He had been called back early from leave because a significant minority
of people were out sick. Add that to the fact his own throat was starting to get a little
raw, you get one really pissy Rogue. He didn't even like tea.
Sipping from the steamy mug, Wedge grimaced as the tea burnt his tongue and
continued its rampage down his already suffering esophagus. Placing the cup back on the
table, he brought his finger up to touch his now numb, and slightly swelling, tongue.
"You know, you're supposed to let it cool before you drink it," a voice said from
behind him.
"Don't bother me now, Tycho," Wedge grumbled.
"Who me?" Tycho asked.
"No, Tycho Brahe."
Tycho sat down and looked at his friend in confusion. "Who's Tycho Brahe?" he
asked. Wedge looked at Tycho.
"My pet fist, would you like to meet him?" Wedge retorted sarcastically. Tycho
was only trying to have a normal conversation with him, but Wedge really didn't feel like
being amicable. Out with the pleasantness, in with the bitter humor.
"Are you always this much of a riot when you're called off leave? We should do
that more often." Tycho started to grin. "Yeah, you'll be in the middle of some hot date
and we'll send spies after you to make sure we can call you back on duty before you can
get any." Wedge shot a dirty look at Tycho.
"Well, that explains why Wes and Hobbie are always talking to Bothans," Wedge
responded dryly. Tycho started to chuckle low in his throat. At least the commander still
had his sense of humor, he had begun to worry.
"I'm sure Wes 'n Hobbie will love to hear that one, sir."
"Why are you here? Can't you see I want to mope in peace?" Wedge started to
whine.
"We need you to help Gavin with something-" Wedge interrupted him.
"I don't want to deal with Gavin right now. He's whinny and I'll just smack him
upside the head instead of doing any good." Tycho was laughing harder now, pulling
another dirty look from Wedge.
"Well... he is whinny, you have to admit that."
"True... So... do you plan on doing anything today?" Tycho asked, jokingly.
"Sure," Wedge said, quite seriously, "I think I already told you that I was going to
mope."
"That isn't really doing anything, Wedge..."
"There was a verb in the sentence wasn't there? That means I'm doing
something." Wedge once again picked up his tea. He once again burnt his tongue.
"Put some ice in it, OK? You'll save you're mouth a lot of suffering."
"Shut up, blondie."
"Don't call me blondie," Tycho said darkly.
"Why not?"
"That's Lukie's nickname, remember?"
"Oh yeah.... Yours is Poopy Pants."
"OK, now you're just being infantile, Wedge." Tycho paused. "Poopy Pants?
Couldn't you be a little more creative?"
Wedge raised and eyebrow. "What would you rather me call you? Peni-"
Tycho quickly slapped his hand across Wedge's mouth.
"Ow, now that was uncalled for," Wedge said as he rubbed his sore face, but he
was grinning.
"No, not at all. You were just going to call me a "ahem jumper" in the middle
of the mess hall," Tycho said with mild annoyance. It was one thing if Wedge said it in
private, but something else in there were 500 people around you.
"You're no fun." Wedge was laughing now, no longer in his foul mood. He
grinned at Tycho.
"Come on, Commander," Tycho said, "finish your tea so we can go see what
Gavin needs help with." Wedge looked at his cup and sighed.
"Can I smack him upside the head?" Wedge asked.
"Once."
The End