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



My Month with the Gods
Part Seven
by Banshee


Over the next week, my schedule consisted of briefings and sims with the squadron, X-wing training with Wes and Hobbie, and meetings with Wedge and Tycho to review performance and strategy. Even though this left almost no spare time, Wedge and I managed to spend a few minutes alone together each evening, usually when he would walk me back to my quarters at the end of the day.

During the middle of the second week Wedge declared the next day to be a day off. My team had been putting together a scenario and wanted to finish so we worked late that evening to get it ready for a sim run after our welcome break.

After the sixth pot of caf, Tycho & I sent the others away so we could finish the fine-tuning in peace. Shortly thereafter, we both heaved a sigh of relief. "Finished," I all but cheered as I looked at my wrist chrono. "Is it really almost midnight?"

He rubbed his eyes tiredly before answering, "Yeah. Want to go get something to eat?"

I tried to think of a suitable reply about pilots and food but my mind wasnít functioning. "No, thanks. I think I just want to get some shut-eye," I told him instead as I rolled my shoulders to release a few kinks.

He chuckled softly, "Do you really think youíre going to be able to sleep after all that caf?"

I smiled, "If not, I guess Iíll just have to finish that letter to my grandfather Iíve been working on."

"Iíll walk you to your quarters," he offered as he locked the door to his office and we started toward the lift.

"Iíve really enjoyed being here. Iím working harder than I was expecting but considering I could be back on Jovan in the Admiralís boring meetings, I donít mind," I said.

"I have to admit, I was concerned but I think itís working out rather well. By the way, Wes and Hobbie said youíre a natural in an X-wing. I just hope youíre not letting Hobbie teach you how to land," he commented with a smirk.

I shook my head sympathetically as we boarded the lift, "Poor Hobbie."

We said goodnight at my floor and he continued on. As I opened the door to my quarters, I noticed a lamp in the sitting/dining area was turned on. Since it had not been on the entire time I had been on Coruscant, it had to have been off when I left that morning.

I was debating about turning around to find Tycho when I spotted the figure on the couch and had to smile. Wedge was sound asleep with a data pad lying on the floor beside him. His hair was in his eyes, which made him look more like the young freighter captain I remembered than a hero of the New Republic.

As I walked further into the room, I saw the table had been set for two. I quietly entered the small kitchenette to find dinner in the food prep unit and a bottle of wine chilling in the frig.

My fatigue was forgotten as I knelt on the floor next to him, debating whether I should wake him or just let him sleep. Even as a child, I was never able to let my pet miffins sleep comfortably around me, and he looked so peaceful that my fiendish side took over.

I gently laid a hand on his shoulder ready to duck if he came up swinging which I had seen happen on a number of occasions when sleeping pilots had been startled awake. I was relieved when he just yawned and opened his heavy-lidded eyes.

"I need to report a security breach. Someone came in my quarters and left me dinner and a sleeping pilot," I smirked. "Iíd like to know who it was so I can be sure to thank them."

"Cute," he growled as he sat up.

I watched him stretch with an impish grin. "More like adorable, actually," My insolence was rewarded with a blush and I had to bite my lip to keep my grin from turning predatory. "How and when did you get in here?"

He glanced at the chrono and cringed. "When would be about 1900. As to how..." He shrugged innocently, "I memorized your code a few days ago."

I lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "You know if you keep this up, rumors are going to start running rampant."

I didnít think it was possible for him to turn any redder but he did. "I think they already are," he admitted.

I chuckled as I stood and pulled him to his feet, "Is it too late for dinner? Iím hungry."

He mumbled something under his breath about pilots and food as I steered him towards the kitchenette. I thought about my earlier conversation with Tycho and had to laugh which earned me a sleepy glare.

"So why were you out so late?" he asked suspiciously as he started the food prep unit.

"We were working on a strategy to kick your butt in the sims and wanted to finish it. And before you ask: no, you canít get me drunk enough to tell you what it is," I challenged him.

He stepped close and spoke softly, sending shivers down my spine. "Who says military secrets are what Iím interested in?"

He was standing so close we were almost touching and I had to remind myself to breathe. My voice came out huskier than I intended, "Who says you have to get me drunk for that?" We stood silently, gazes locked.

The food prep unit chimed and broke the spell. He turned his attention to the food as I poured the wine. During dinner, we talked about old times and new, how much we were enjoying getting to spend time together again; small talk mostly.

After the table had been cleared and the dishes washed and put away, I pulled out a bottle of Wyrenís Reserve I had managed to procure shortly after my arrival. I handed him a glass and sat beside him on the couch.

His arm found its way around me and I leaned my head on his shoulder as we continued our conversation. I think we were both only half-listening to ourselves. I could feel the tension in his body as I laid my hand on his thigh.

Eventually, he placed his hand under my chin and gently tilted my head back so he could kiss me softly. He was smiling when our lips parted. "Iíve wanted to do that since I met you," he admitted.

My laugh brought a look of pain to his face and I realized he misunderstood why I was laughing. "Iíve been thinking pretty much the same thing," I told him shyly as I rubbed his cheek with my hand.

With a predatory growl, he scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom.


Continued in Part Eight