This is a work of fanfiction. Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

Part Two
by Banshee

Just as she raised her hand to the buzzer at the address Wedge had given her, the door opened to reveal Tycho dressed in well-fitted black pants and boots and topped with a deep green satin shirt.

She lifted an eyebrow in surprise, "I thought this was Wedge's place."

He looked up, startled to see her. "It is... We... ah... share quarters." He shrugged and added softly, "I don't really like to be alone since..."

He hadn't said Isard's name, but she knew what he was referring to. She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed reassuringly, dispelling any further comment. "You're not staying?"

He shook his head. "I'm meeting someone," he replied vaguely.

She smiled and winked playfully, "Well, you look very nice. Must be someone special."

He grinned appreciatively and held the door open for her, "Go on in. Wedge is in the shower; he should be out in a few."

She stepped into a spacious living and dining area. There were candles scattered throughout the room and on the table, which had been set for two. A wonderful mix of smells wafted in from the kitchen.

She was debating about investigating the evening's menu when Wedge came in from the hallway wearing only a towel wrapped snugly around his trim waist. He had another towel over his head, covering his eyes as he dried his hair.

"Hey, Tych, have you seen..." his voice trailed off and a faint blush tinged his cheeks when he noticed her. "Uh... You're not Tycho."

She bit her lip and looked down. "Last time I looked," she replied impishly. She raked her eyes up his body and took a deep breath, trying to control her reactions to the site of him.

He barked a laugh and headed back down the hall. "I'll get dressed. Make yourself comfortable," he called over his shoulder.

"You don't have to get dressed on my account," she mumbled. Comfortable, he says... If he only knew... she thought heatedly. It had been a couple of years since she had seen him and she had forgotten just _how_ gorgeous he was.

She glanced around the room, noting the subtle blending of the two personalities that inhabited the area. She found the inevitable bottle of Whyren's and poured a glass before wandering into the kitchen to take a peak at dinner.

Wedge sidled up behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and nuzzling her ear. "Did I mention how much I've missed you?"

She leaned back against his firm body, feeling the beginnings of a promising bulge pressing into her lower back. Smiling suggestively, she turned to face him. "Not yet," she whispered huskily in his ear.

He moaned softly, "Shall we skip the main course and go straight for dessert?"

She leaned back to look into his eyes, "That depends. Did you cook all this?"

He shook his head, "Tycho did."

She lifted an eyebrow in surprise, "Well, in that case, it should be edible. Besides, if he went to this much trouble, the least we can do is eat it."

He sighed, reluctantly turning away from her. "You're right, of course." He rummaged around in a drawer and handed her a lighter. "I'll fix our plates if you'll go light the candles."

Continued in Part Three