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



Operation: Babysat
Part Seven
by Nic


A subdued Wes sat at a curved booth in the officer’s mess, a tray of breakfast before him and Colin playing next to him on the bench. Pushing a sausage around the plate, Wes sighed heavily. Hobbie and Wedge had gone back to the hanger to assess the damage, if any, to the Major’s X-wing and the surrounding area. Of course, Wes was slightly reprimanded by Wedge and was told sternly to keep Colin under control.

"So, I heard you got an Antilles Dressing-Down today." The voice sparkled with amusement. "And it isn’t even 0930 yet. That has got to be a record for you Wes."

Wes looked up as Tycho slid onto the seat, placing Colin between the two Rogues. "Actually, it was an abbreviated dressing-down. It was mostly Hobbie’s fault anyway."

"Yeah. I’m sure. So this is the little Terror of Destruction, eh?"

"Yeah. This is Colin." Wes gestured vaguely at the tot. Colin looked between the men and smiled sweetly at Tycho as the Colonel nodded at him.

"Nice smile. I can see the resemblance."

"What can I say? I’m an inspiration to creation." Wes smirked.

The two fell into quiet discussion of the morning’s recent events and Colin, noticing the fact that attention had shifted off of him, slipped under the table and began to rummage around his diaper bag. Pulling out hand lotion, baby-wipes, baby-powder and a clean diaper, he set to work.

Spreading out the diaper, absorbent side-up, he flipped open the lotion bottle and squeezed a generous amount into the center of the diaper. He did likewise with the baby-powder and then put both bottles back into the bag. Rummaging around some more, he found baby-oil and diaper-rash cream. He added both to the mixture on the diaper and then deposited the containers back in the bag. With an evil-baby grin, he dipped his hands into the pile of products and began to mix it up into a paste. Once satisfied with the mixture, he pulled out the baby-wipes and wiped his hands off, throwing the discarded wipes back into the box. After sliding the wipes into the bag, his picked up the diaper and placed it on the bench between Tycho and Wes. He hoisted himself back onto the seat, picked up the diaper and held it aloft.

"Yum yum! Dada twy!" He exclaimed, breaking into the conversation. Both pilots looked at him and Wes pulled the diaper down. He wrinkled his nose as he got a good look at the contents.

"Ewww…Colin! If you think I'm going to eat that, you're very much mistaken."

Tycho snorted and leaned over to look at the diaper. "Gross…"

"Give me the diaper, Colin," Wes tugged at the laden article. "Besides, you’re not allowed to play with this stuff anyway!"

Colin tightened his grip on the diaper and tugged back. "No! Yum yum!"

With that, Wes redoubled his efforts and began pulling on the diaper. Colin continued to resist, however and kept his grip on his masterpiece.

"Stars, Colin. You’re strong for a two-year-old! Tycho, a little…" before he could finish, Colin suddenly let go and the diaper snapped towards Wes. The pilot stumbled backwards, kicking the table and upsetting the breakfast dishes. The creamy side of the diaper landed on his chest and, in the blink of an eye, Colin landed on him and leaned on it, grinding it into his day uniform.

Trying hard to fight the laughter building within him, Tycho moved over and grabbed Colin around the waist. He hoisted the youngster off of Wes and pulled him into his lap. "That was very bad, Colin," he smirked.

Wes struggled to sit up and then looked down at his uniform sorrowfully. "Colin, you are in serious trouble." He sighed heavily, gathering up the dishes on the table. "Very serious trouble."


To be Continued...


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