Title: Back Together (5 of 6)
Characters: Wes, Hobbie, Ben, Kyp, Jaina
Summary: Kyp and Jaina are getting married...and they didn't invite Wes and Hobbie! Uh oh.
Notes: This part started off as my first Wes/Hobbie fic last September. Oops. I edited it to be part of BT (...which, y'know, is soooo not Wes/Hobbie, I swear), and it fits in pretty well now. Those who read this story last October will remember that this was the last part, and yet I have put 5 of 6 in the title? Yes. No further comment.
Words: 5771

"No."

Wes Janson made a show of sighing in defeat and shaking his head, but he continued to stand resolutely in Hobbie Klivian's doorway, preventing his friend from shutting the door. "I suppose I'll have to forget about the drink, then, and the great music, and just spend the night all alone watching holovids in my quarters."

Hobbie narrowed his eyes at Wes. "I said no. And no matter how many times you ask, or how often you repeat this 'pity me' spiel, I am not going to relent. No is no."

"You're such a party pooper, Hobbie." Wes sighed again, and shifted to lean against the doorjamb - still not allowing Hobbie to close the door at all. "We have to go. Everyone will be bored without us there."

"I'm sure Durron and Solo will not appreciate your or my presence. I wasn't invited, and I doubt you were, either."

"The Durrons," Wes corrected Hobbie. "And no, I wasn't, but that's what makes it even more fun!"

Hobbie just looked at him, then shook his head. "I know what you're planning, Wes, and I refuse to be linked to one of your crazy schemes yet again."

"But this is a classic."

"Classic failure, you mean."

Wes rolled his eyes. "Ever the optimist, Hobbie." Then he grinned. "Come on. It'll be fun. We haven't had a chance to annoy everyone in so long!"

"A month. And for some reason, I think that's why we weren't invited."

Wes waved a hand dismissively. "If you're talking about the incident at Ben Skywalker's birthday, I had that totally under control, it was all Jag's fault it went wrong, and I'm sure they'll have forgotten about it by now anyway."

"Hopelessly optimistic."

"Someone has to be."

Hobbie shook his head again, but Wes detected an amused lift at the corner of his frown, a twinkle in his eye that meant he would relent soon. He always did in the end. "I'm not crashing a wedding reception, Wes."

"Oh, come on. Solo-Skywalker? They expect to be gate-crashed, at least once per party."

The corner of Hobbie's mouth twitched again; a sure sign that any argument now was mostly for show. "Don't we count for at least double the usual distraction, though?"

"Yeah, well, I hear that Hapan wedding was boringly uneventful, so the Solos are due two lots of distraction."

"Which you'll gladly provide, I assume?"

"Which we will gladly provide, Hobbie," Wes corrected, grinning again. "So grab your jacket and let's go already, before the party's over."

Hobbie hesitated, and Wes knew he was trying - futilely - to convince himself not to do so. But after a moment, he let out a sigh, accompanied by a rueful smile. "Why is it I can't ever seem to say no to you?"

"Cause I'm great at persuasion." As soon as Hobbie had his jacket half-on, the sleeves to his elbows, Wes grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the corridor, ignoring the whoosh of the door shutting behind them. "And you know my ideas always make sense."

Hobbie shrugged into his jacket, pulling the zipper halfway up, and frowned as Wes pulled him down the corridor towards the turbolift. "So long as sense is relative, then sure."

"Relative to what?"

"Well, they're better than...no, wait, they just don't make sense at all."

Wes released Hobbie's arm and used the free hand to hit him on the shoulder. "Thanks, my friend."

"Welcome, as always." Hobbie smirked at him, and Wes grinned at the expression.

"Come on then. We have a couple equipment recons to carry out before the mission."

"Equipment recons."

Wes flashed a grin, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. "Got to have the right equipment for gate-crashing a wedding, after all."

A half-second passed, then Hobbie blinked and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I was wondering when that feeling of dread would settle in my stomach. Can't have a night out with Wes Janson without a certain amount of dread."

"That's the spirit, Hobbie," Wes replied, leaning against the closed turbolift door as it descended the apartment building. "That's the spirit."

"You're the bouncer?"

"I'm the bouncer."

Wes studied Corran Horn carefully for a moment, then looked from side to side as if for a sign to tell him it was a joke. No sign. "At Kyp Durron's wedding?"

Corran looked back at him steadily. "At Jaina Solo's wedding."

Wes nodded and glanced sideways at Hobbie, who shrugged. Mimicking the action, Wes turned back to Corran and said, "OK, so, can we go in now?"

Corran made a show of looking through the guest list he was holding, then sighed dramatically. "Sorry, guys," he said, his tone far too apologetic to be genuine, "but you're not on this list."

"A mere oversight," Wes assured him, waving a hand at the list dismissively. "Now let us in."

"No can do, I'm afraid," Corran said in that same apologetic tone, a slight smirk on his face. "I was specifically told to let those on the list into the club, and only those on the list."

"Corran, I'm seeing a problem here." Wes pointed to the door behind Corran. "In there is a party, and-" He spread his hands to indicate himself and Hobbie. "-out here is us. The two belong in a symbiotic relationship; you simply cannot have a party without us. To keep us out here would be to defy physics."

Corran shrugged. "And that would be new?"

"Corran," Hobbie started, his tone low and urgent, "if you don't let us in, then I'm going to be stuck, all night, with a very annoyed Wes Janson. I know you don't hate me that much."

Wes glared at him, a mock-hurt expression on his face. "I love you too, Hobbie."

Corran rolled his eyes. "Fine, maybe I can convince the bouncer's wife to distract him for a few moments, so you can sneak inside. But," he added, pointing to the holdall that Wes was carrying - the same bag he'd had at Ben's party, "not with that."

Wes forced his face into an innocent expression; something he had a lot of practice with. "It's just some extra Corellian ale, and the like. With all the wretched folk you have in there, I figured you'd be running out."

Corran's eyes narrowed, and flickered to Hobbie, who had copied Wes's innocent expression. "Right," he said finally. "I will accept that story, will ask no further questions, and will not be linked in any way to your presence at this party."

Wes grinned and gave Corran a quick, casual salute. "Very good, Corran. You know it makes sense."

Corran just rolled his eyes and, when Mirax wandered to the door to see what was going on, allowed himself to get distracted as promised. Wes grinned again and grabbed Hobbie's arm to drag him inside the club; a rather unnecessary action, since Hobbie was already making his way in. Once inside, Wes shrugged the holdall strap off his shoulder, carefully placed it on the ground beside him, and leaned nonchalantly back against the wall, a few feet from the door. Hobbie leaned beside him, trying to appear casual also.

Wes looked round the club thoughtfully, eyes resting on anything that looked remotely like a good target. The hall they were in was quite large: it had a stage at the other side, opposite the door, where Valin was once again acting as DJ; a large, crowded dancefloor, thrown into a contrast of dusty darkness and sparkling brightness by the fancy lights hanging from the ceiling; tables and chair scattered haphazardly around the edges of the hall, with only a small clearing from the doorway to the dancefloor; and hundreds, hundreds of people, chatting and laughing and mixing and dancing to the beat of music that was as intoxicating as the alcohol in their glasses.

"Whoa," Hobbie breathed from beside Wes. "This many people, and they didn't invite us? We obviously did something very wrong."

Wes waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, it's just a few dozen. Lighting makes it look like more." He looked round the hall again, this time concentrating on specific guests. To the right, in a fairly dark corner, someone had pushed two of the tables together, and ten or so people were crowded around it, drinking and playing sabacc. Very familiar-looking people.

Storing the game in his memory, Wes continued his scan of the hall, noting Han and Leia Solo sitting at the edge of the dancefloor, and Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker apparently searching for something and pushing through the crowds to find it. He could just about see Jacen Solo, dancing with Queen Mother Tenel Ka nearer the edge of the crowd, seeming quite uncomfortable surrounded by so many people. On the left side of the hall, laughing at a table floating a few inches above the ground, was six-year-old Ben Skywalker - with a fair amount of clear space around him. And, just a little further up from there, was the buffet table, which Jag Fel and Tahiri Veila had obviously decided to defend from an attack, judging by the way they were staying resolutely beside it.

That was inconvenient.

"OK," he said eventually, turning to Hobbie, and pointing to the sabacc game in the corner. "First, we have to unsettle them, but not make ourselves known to them."

"Well, bang goes the easy way of unsettling them."

Ignoring Hobbie's remark, Wes crouched on the floor beside the holdall, and unzipped it. There were indeed a few bottles of alcohol - Corellian fire-whisky, a few Taanabian fruity concoctions - but the rest of the bag's space was taken up by a few more sundry items. A few cans of an interesting gooey spray substance Wes had discovered in a toy store the previous week, a large, folded flimsiplast banner with a message written on it, a microphone and comlink that had been altered to broadcast over the most common of sound system frequencies - and, taking up most of the space, a stuffed Ewok, its fur worn and matted with age.

"Hobbie," Wes said suddenly, his attention once again on the left side of the hall. "Go intercept little Ben before his parents do, and bring him here. We could use his help. I'll take care of the sabacc game."

Hobbie stared at him dubiously for a moment, and Wes gave him his most reassuring grin. A second passed, then Hobbie shrugged. "All right. You just try not to get caught, whatever you're doing."

"Me, caught?" Wes widened his eyes in disbelief. "I never get caught!"

Hobbie didn't reply to that; just raised an eyebrow cynically.

Wes grinned again as Hobbie set off across the hall, sneaking round the tables to avoid attention from any Solo-Skywalkers. He looked through the bag again, and pulled out one of the cans of goo. Zipping the holdall up and storing it in the corner, he stayed in a crouch, creeping towards the sabacc game. As he approached, he heard snatches of conversation from the table.

". . . manage to keep them out, anyway?" Wedge Antilles' voice asked, a note of suspicion in it.

"Weren't on the guest list," Tycho Celchu's voice answered, and as Wes glanced up, he saw the blond man shrug. "Winter was in charge of invitations. She was going to add them anyway, but I told her they must have been left off for a reason."

"Hm," was the only reply Wedge offered.

"Well, gentlebeings," Talon Karrde interrupted, "I hope you've been making use of the free nature of the alcohol, because I'm raising these stakes by a hundred."

Wes checked the can in his hand and pulled off the wrapping, making sure the nozzle was fixed on but unsealed.

"Two hundred," came Lando Calrissian's voice, followed by the clink of credit chips.

The instructions told Wes to shake the can, and aim about a metre from his target; he did so.

"I'm folding," Kell Tainer said.

Wes steadied himself, leaning a hand on the floor to help him move away quickly.

"Me, too," said Gavin Darklighter. "Can't compete with you professionals."

With one last glance at the can, Wes aimed it and squeezed the spray button.

"Two-fif-" Booster Terrik's voice was cut off as a neon green strand of what could only be described as goo shot into his mouth. The fast-moving substance trailed round the table, catching Wedge's nose, Tycho's chin, Lando's sabacc cards, the various glasses of alcohol - nothing, in the brief milliseconds of attack, escaped the goo. And then it stopped suddenly, and there was silence in the corner of the hall, broken only by a soft, swift padding of something crawling across the floor at top speed.

Wes heard swearing and indignant shouts from the table, and as he approached his holdall, he staggered to his feet and grabbed it, darting in amongst the crowd, hoping desperately that no one from the table saw who exactly had sprayed the substance. He seemed to be in luck - as he ran past a very startled Hobbie and laughing Ben Skywalker, the swearing faded into the distance, suggesting that no one had bothered to search for the culprit for too long.

A few metres from the buffet table - and Jag and Tahiri - Wes collapsed into an empty chair, quickly shifting it so it was blocked from the dancefloor by one of the supporting columns of the building. As Hobbie and Ben warily approached him, he took a moment to study the hall from this new vantage point, noting the locations of everything from this particular position.

The buffet table, of course, was mere metres away, but still guarded fiercely. Thankfully, neither Jag nor Tahiri seemed to have noticed Wes. He now viewed the stage at an angle, and saw the supports above it, which the speakers, lights and cameras were fixed onto. Out on the dancefloor, he could no longer see Jacen and Tenel Ka, but he could see Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo - Solo Durron, he corrected himself - dancing together close to the stage, on the near side of the dancefloor. Wes shifted his chair a little more, making sure it would definitely be blocked by the column - it would not do for the newlyweds to spot him so early on.

"Plan revision?" Hobbie asked casually, falling into the chair beside Wes's.

"Minor," Wes admitted. "Base of operations is now here, which I estimate is about as far away from Wedge as we can get."

Hobbie glanced across the hall to the sabacc game. "Probably not far enough, though."

"Wessie!"

Wes blinked and looked round, then down. Yes; there, just climbing into the chair on the other side of him, was Ben Skywalker, his blue eyes bright and cheerful, his red-gold hair uncombed and scruffy. "Hey there, Ben. Ready to help your uncle Wes with a plan?"

The boy scratched at the side of his head absently, apparently considering it. "Daddy said I should stay away from Wes and Hobbie. . . He said you're bad infu- infru- fluey-"

"Influences?" Hobbie supplied.

Ben nodded fiercely. "Influ-ansies. But I think Wes and Hobbie are funny."

Wes grinned. "Of course we are!"

Ben nodded again, grinning too. "'Specially when Jaggie threw paint and it went all over Wes and Hobbie and the food!"

Wes's grin slipped, and he glanced over at the buffet table. "Yeah, who'd have thought such an ace pilot could have such a bad throw?"

"Makes you think he wasn't actually aiming for Kyp and Jaina at all," Hobbie added darkly.

"It made my lifeday party great," Ben continued cheerfully. "Are you makin' Kyppie and Jaina's party great too, yeah?"

"That's what we're here to do," Wes confirmed, turning his gaze back to Ben. "So, kid. You in?"

"Course! It's gonna be fun."

"OK, good." Wes took a moment to think things through, then nodded to himself. "You and Hobbie stay here and set up. Hobbie, you need Kettch, the microphone, and the banner - I think you know what to do." He raked through the holdall, taking the modified comlink and attaching it to his belt, then pulled out the Taanabian beverage and the bottle of fire-whisky. "Ben, you just use your fancy powers when Hobbie tells you to, and-" Wes handed him the goo spray. "-use that to distract Jag and Tahiri, when I signal you."

Ben held onto the can tightly and nodded seriously, eyes wide. "I can help good, Wes. Force maybe with you!"

"Uh. . . Right." Wes saluted the boy, grinning at the childish way it was returned. "Force maybe with you too, Ben."

Wes approached the table carefully, keeping low to the ground to avoid being seen. Jag and Tahiri were leaning against the centre of the table, at ninety degrees or so from Wes's position at the end. Tahiri was staring off into the crowd on the dancefloor - possibly at Kyp and Jaina - with a wistful smile on her face; Jag was staring at her, with the same kind of smile on his face. It made Wes sick, and he scowled.

The two were chatting idly, their attention mostly fixed on each other, and Wes took a deep breath and stood up, clutching the bottles of alcohol he held. He glanced over at Hobbie, who shrugged, and then turned to Ben. The small boy was practically vibrating with excitement, grasping the can of gooey spray in his hands tightly. Wes nodded at him, then waved the bottle of fire-whisky towards the crowd, and Ben seemed to understand. With a return nod, he let out a squeal of pleasure and ran towards Jag and Tahiri.

Wes watched as the boy sprayed electric blue goo on the couple, giggled, then turned into the crowd to find Kyp and Jaina and do the same - knowing full well that Jag and Tahiri would follow him, trying to exact revenge. Wes grinned to himself; the boy was smart.

He forced his attention back to the table, moving forward a few steps again, then stopped. He placed both bottles down on the covered table, being careful not to make the durasteel surface clunk, and grabbed a disposable cup from a conveniently-located pile. He poured himself some of the red juice in the nearest jug, tasted a sip, and grimaced. Yes, it definitely needed some modifications.

He took a moment to study the various jugs on the table, deciding which should have which substance added. The blue milk definitely needed some fire-whisky to spice up its too-mellow taste; the fruit juice, too, would need fire-whisky. The water, therefore, would get the Taanabian concoction, as would the beverage that Wes was unable to identify - something green.

When the drinks were appropriately mixed, Wes hid the bottles under the table, making sure the white cloth covered them, and looked up. The dancefloor was a riot, with shouts - and giggles, definitely six-year-old in nature - from somewhere nearer to Wes than he would have liked. It seemed it was time to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Glancing up, Wes waved quickly at Hobbie, and held up three fingers to indicate it was time for the third stage. Hobbie squinted, a confused expression on his face, then shrugged and turned back to the table, which Wes couldn't quite see - blocked, as it was, by the supporting column. But if he knew Hobbie - and he liked to think he did, rather well in fact - then he would be fulfilling his part of the plan. He would moan and whine and complain whilst doing so, but he would do it, and Wes knew he really would enjoy it as much as himself. He always did.

Silently, Wes moved away from the table and towards the edge of the raised stage, checking the modified comlink was still attached to his belt. Thankfully, the door for the backstage area was level with the dancefloor, rather than on the stage in clear view of everything and everyone, so Wes slipped through it unnoticed, and sighed with relief when the music was reduced to a mere whisper.

There was also a nicely-placed ladder up to the roof, where the support struts and platform were. Not that Wes would have minded terribly if he'd had to climb, but, well, this was infinitely preferable. He was able to reach the ceiling and sit on the edge of the platform with relative ease, pausing for a moment before he stood, balancing precariously. With one hand bracing himself against the ceiling for support, he slowly made his way out into the main stage area, right above the sound system's speakers, and sat on the edge of the narrow platform.

From this position, he could see the entire hall. To his right was the table that Hobbie had finished setting up, to his left and further out were the two tables where the sabacc game was still being held, and right in front of him was a lost-looking Luke Skywalker. Looking back at Hobbie, Wes saw Ben standing there gleefully, apparently out of sight of his father and the other people searching for him. Yes; a very smart boy.

Hobbie looked up at that moment, catching his eye, and Wes noted ruefully that he wasn't at all surprised to see his friend sitting amongst the support struts above a stage in a strange club. He simply mouthed a one-word question: Now? To which Wes flashed a grin and nodded, giving him a thumbs up. As Hobbie turned to Ben, Wes unclipped the comlink from his belt, took a deep breath, and activated it.

Immediately, the music was replaced by white noise, and Wes vaguely saw Valin panic and start hitting switches, to no avail. The system was under Wes's command now. The crowd fell silent too, and they all turned to stare at the stage; one person - Wes thought it was Jacen Solo, though he wasn't sure from this distance - looked up and saw him, but merely grinned, not drawing attention to the prankster's presence. Grateful, Wes nodded and turned his attention back to Hobbie, Ben, and the table.

Taped to the wall above the table was the banner Wes had prepared earlier; a bright, eye-catching creation with a message reading Yub yub, Kyp and Jaina Durron. Welcome to the rest of your pitiful lives. The table itself was fairly unremarkable - one of the plasteel chairs was fixed to the centre of it, a stuffed Ewok taped into it, a microphone clearly visible on its chest. Fairly unremarkable, apart from the small, insignificant fact that it was floating a foot and a half above the ground, thanks to the powers of a giggling Ben Skywalker.

Wes held the comlink to his mouth and cleared his throat, noting that everyone's attention was now fixed on the floating table. "Ladies and gentlebeings," he said, trying his best to imitate the short, high-pitched tone of an Ewok. "I would like to make a toast."

Before Wes could continue, he was interrupted by a loud cry; Wedge, from the far side of the hall, had seen the table and its Ewok occupant. "What the Sith has Janson done now?"

"To all the couples in this room," Wes continued, ignoring Wedge's outburst. "To the young ones, to the old ones, and to the downright ancient ones." Here he grinned and glanced at Wedge, before remembering that Wedge couldn't see him. "Because this is, I have been led to believe, a day for couples. For one couple in particular, two young humans - one young, and one not-so-young, I mean-" He noticed Kyp scowl at that, and grinned again. "-who, I think, despite the sickness their mushiness causes so often, everyone is very glad to celebrate a union between today. They're both annoying, they're both too smart for their own good, and they're both amusingly gullible - please, everybody, raise your bottles and glasses to Kyp and Jaina Durron, and may they always be annoying, smart and gullible."

He knew that his fake voice had slipped halfway through the short speech, and he knew that almost everyone present knew this was his work - even if they didn't know where he was located - but Wes was almost surprised to find that he meant every word. The good words, that is. Throughout the two years or so of mock war, of prank-playing and insult-throwing, he had definitely grown fond of both of them. They were not-quite-friends, or friends who wouldn't admit to the friendship, but it was there. A certain camaraderie had grown between the couple, and Wes and Hobbie, and Wes loved every bit of it. "To the jokes and pranks of the past," he added after a short pause, before everyone could start buzzing about the toast, "and to the fun in the future. Kyp, Jaina - Mr and Mrs Durron - I, Major Kettch, salute you and wish you all the best in future. Luck in your own lives, and luck getting your own back against Wes and Hobbie at some point. May the Force be with you."

There was brief hushed silence, a pause where Wes suddenly doubted his actions - was the prank maybe a little too unsuitable for a wedding reception? - and then an eruption of applause, of laughter and appreciative whistling, of shouts and cheers, and Wes grinned. He saw Ben's parents finally reach the boy, and the table as it clattered to the ground; he saw Jag and Tahiri, covered from head to toe in blue goo, but still grinning their heads off; and he saw Kyp and Jaina smiling up at him, having spotted him after all. He raised a hand in salute, using the other - still holding the comlink - to wave, and experienced a half-second of exhilaration, a brief interlude before the unsettling sensation of a freefall.

Then there was the stage, a few inches from his head; enough time to realise what was happening, to swear and shout and grab at nothing, before impact. Then, darkness.

"Uh. . ."

Someone was pounding on Wes's door, a regular beat that was like a tattoo in his head. Probably Wedge, to tell him he was late for a mission. No, wait, Wedge wasn't his commander anymore. In fact, he didn't have a commander, he was a commander. So who was pounding on his door?

Consciousness drifted in and out of reach, a spark of something that promised pain, but also light and knowledge. Knowledge was addictive, so Wes grasped for it, gasping as he opened his eyes and realised that the pounding was inside his head, not on the door to his quarters. This was also proven by the fact that he wasn't in his quarters; the room was entirely too neat and tidy for that.

"Wes?"

"Ow, Sithspit, Hobbie! Do you need to be so loud?"

"Wes, I'm whispering."

"Stop shouting! Sith, my head hurts. . ." Wes blinked a few times and raised his head slightly, wincing at the pain this caused. He looked right, seeing nothing but plain painted wall, then looked left, jolting at the sight of Hobbie's worried face so close to his own. The jolt caused even more pain, and he shut his eyes again. "What the hell kind of night did I have last night? I feel like I've drunk every drop of alcohol in Han Solo's apartment."

"Actually, you were fairly sober tonight, for once. Don't you remember what happened?"

"It resulted in me being in a medical wing; I'm not sure I want to know."

Hobbie sighed patiently. "You better remember what happened; no one else is going to forget."

"Wait, wait, I'm getting snatches. . . something about a wedding reception." Wes opened his eyes again and stared at Hobbie. "Tell me I didn't climb into the ceiling of a stage and fall almost ten metres into durasteel."

"You didn't climb into the ceiling of a stage and fall ten metres to durasteel."

"You're lying."

Hobbie shrugged, a rueful lift to his frown. "You told me to."

Wes shifted back against his pillow, in a half-sitting, half-lying back position, and rubbed the back of his head with his right hand. "How long have I been in here?"

Hobbie shook his head distractedly and glanced up at the chrono on the wall. "Um, only about three hours. It's oh-one-hundred hours just now."

"So the party's finished?" Wes was disappointed. He'd wanted to be there to see how unwittingly drunk everyone had gotten from the spiked juice and milk.

Hobbie shrugged, a slight rueful smile on his face; strange, thought Wes. "Actually, it finished with a spectacular bang when you knocked yourself out. Kyp and Jaina are waiting out there-" He pointed vaguely in the direction of the room's door. "-to see if you're all right."

Wes groaned. "So what you're saying is that because I was an idiot and tried to catch up to your record of bacta usage, I managed to totally ruin their wedding night?"

Hobbie opened his mouth to argue, closed it again, then shrugged. "Pretty much."

Wes leaned back against the pillows, waving a hand at the door vaguely. "Go tell them I'm fine, and to go away and spend what's left of the night generally acting like newlyweds."

Hobbie nodded. "I'll go tell them you're all right," he said, ignoring the rest of Wes's instruction.

Wes heard a clatter of feet on plasteel-lined floor as Hobbie opened the door to the corridor. A hushed voice - Jaina's - asked, "What's wrong? Is he OK?"

Hobbie left the door propped open against his foot as he leaned out into the corridor, answering, "Sure. He'll be fine, until I tell him about the med bill."

"I'm not paying a credit," Wes insisted loudly enough for Kyp and Jaina to hear him, too. "I got hurt in the line of duty; comes under insurance."

"You're a piece of Sithspawn, Janson," Kyp called back good-naturedly.

"No worse than you, Durron. Oh, better start distinguishing between you," Wes mused. "You're Durron One, then, and your darling wife is Durron Two."

Jaina's head appeared from around Hobbie to glare at Wes, the effect of which was not aided by the grin on her face. "I think you'll find I'm Lead, Janson."

"You wish, Goddess," Kyp said, his own head appearing above Jaina's. He leaned down and kissed her hair, then grinned. "I'll always be Durron Lead."

"You'd like to think so, huh?"

"Arguing like kids," Hobbie sighed, shaking his head.

"Speaking of which," Wes added, "you two get away and start making little Durron Three."

Jaina tilted her head a little to the side, studying him for a second. "You sure you're OK, Wes? That really was one spectacular fall."

"Sure I'm OK, now get the hell out of my room before I start charging you rent."

Jaina stuck her tongue out at him and looked like she might stay, just to defy him, but she squealed when Kyp picked her up from behind. "Come on, Jay. Normally I wouldn't pay the slightest bit of attention to Wes, but he really is making sense now."

"All right then," she conceded, a giggle in her voice. "Let's go. Wes, tell us if you get any worse."

"Not a chance."

"Hobbie, tell us if he gets any worse."

Hobbie simply shrugged, grinning ruefully, and waved as Kyp carried Jaina down the corridor and away. When they were out of sight, he turned back into the room, and Wes grinned. "Just you and me now then, Hobbie."

"Oh gods."

"Come on," Wes said, sitting up tentatively. It didn't hurt too much, so he carefully shifted his legs to hang over the side, and eased up onto them. Still didn't hurt too much. "Nothing broken. Good. Come on," he repeated, taking a step towards the door. He glanced down and frowned at his plain medbay-style outfit. "Where are my clothes?"

"Wes, get back in bed. The medics said you had to stay in until at least morning." Hobbie frowned and stepped away from the door, into the room, and it slid shut behind him.

"Not a chance," Wes said decisively. "Anyway, it is morning. Let's get out of here; gotta be a bar open somewhere."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"No- Sithspit, Hobbie, I hate it when you do that!" Wes looked round the room and finally located his clothes, dumped in a pile on a small table hidden amongst the medical equipment. "We're getting out of here, and that's final. Stang," he said as he picked up his clothes, scowling. "Don't these medics know how to fold anything?"

"I put your clothes there."

"That explains it. I know you don't know how to fold anything." Glancing round for a screen and not finding one, Wes shrugged and quickly changed anyway, piling the discard medbay outfit on the bed. He turned round and grinned at Hobbie. "Well? Let's go."

Hobbie shook his head, but the wry half-smile on his face told Wes it was out of disbelief, not to indicate a negative answer. "Wes Janson, you have, a mere three hours ago, fallen-"

"I jumped. It was intentional. Nothing I do is by accident."

"-ten metres into durasteel, broken your nose-"

"So that's why my face hurts."

"-possibly given yourself concussion-"

"That would explain the headache."

"-and only survived thanks to the quick thinking of both Durrons, who, being the only people to actually see you up above the stage, managed to slow your fall using the Force-"

"Remind me to buy them a decent wedding present later."

"-and you want to go out drinking?"

Wes stared blankly at Hobbie. "I thought that much would be obvious to you, Hobbie."

"And sadly," Hobbie admitted, sighing with defeat, "it is. All right. But I'm not going to be the one explaining to the medics in the morning why you've suddenly disappeared."

Wes frowned thoughtfully, then spent a second rearranging the clothes on top of the bed, and pulled the blanket over them. "There. They'll think I turned Jedi, died, and faded away."

Hobbie nodded. "Sure. The youngest apprentice medic might fall for it for an entire second. Wes, you're a genius."

Wes bowed dramatically. "Thank you; I know. So let's get out of here, find out what bar everyone else is in, and get drunk."

And they did.