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

Nostalgia- Once More for Old Times' Sake
by Paula

The warm climate of Borleias was starting to make Wesís skin damp with perspiration. He hated the humidity of this planet. Hot and sticky all the time. Hot, sticky, and absolutely boring, were the three words Wes would use to describe the sanctuary of the New Republic. He had been wandering around the old biotics factory for nearly an hour and had found himself with absolutely no entertainment.

It was moments like these where he missed his old wing-mate Hobbie Klivian more than ever. Wes knew exactly how things would have gone had Hobbie been here with him.

Ah, the joys of nostalgia.

But Hobbie had gotten married and despite the fact that his wife was just as fun-loving as Hobbie himself could be in his most unrestricted moments, it was never quite the same as when they had both been single. Back in the old days - at this thought, Wes snorted at himself derisively - Wes could suggest some outrageous stunt. Hobbie would go along reluctantly, theyíd make a wonderful mess of something or other, and then go out partying. Like, Hobbie could no longer help Wes chat up Bothans or blondes, or anything else that might be potential dating material.

In other words, theyíd have fun.

Wes sighed and shook his head, causing his hair - still as black as ever, despite the time that had elapsed - to flap over his forehead; it made him look half his age. He had not heard from Hobbie since the collapse of Coruscant two months ago. He had resigned himself to the fact that Hobbie might not have survived the fall or had found himself on one of the many shuttles that had never cleared the Coruscant system.

Ah, the problems of war.

Life without Hobbie was infinitely more dull and Wes felt a pang of regret as he pictured his friendís handsome, mournful face.

There was no question. He had loved Hobbie more than he had ever really loved anyone, except perhaps Wedge and Tycho, and the fact that he might never see him again hurt him deeply.

He let a hand run across one of the walls of the hall absentmindedly. Damn the universe, he thought in an uncharacteristic bout of anger. But thatís why he was here - to save the universe from the greatest threat it had ever seen.

"And I thought that my youth was rough," he mumbled to himself as he moved out of the way so a young Communications officer could rush past him towards the command offices.

But Wes was an optimistic individual and he knew that it wouldnít do to dwell on things that couldnít really be helped. He ran his hand through the shock of dark hair and pushed it back from his forehead. He stood up straight and tugged on his garish yellow and black flightsuit. He would never forget the look on Wedgeís face when he had walked into the command offices a few days before. Wes smiled rakishly at the memory. Wedgeís thoughts had clearly been drawn to hideous purple cloaks with flatscreens of dancing Jansons.

Now those had been great times.

He walked on down the hall, whistling. A passing medtech glared at him. Wes smiled boyishly and saw the womanís resolve crack. He winked at her as he walked by.

Too young. He had already had one encounter recently of near cradle-robbing and he wasnít going to have another. He thought back to that little incident with Jaina Solo and winced. Thank the Force that Han hadnít been around when that had taken place. If he had, Wes certainly would not be here now.

But winking was okay.

He passed an open door. This must be the impromptu training room that Tycho had told him about. He glanced in. Tycho had told him to go exploring, mainly so that he wouldnít be a distraction while he and Wedge were trying to coordinate a major war. Wes had never been particularly good at staying serious when required.

The training room was large - perhaps the size of a small X-wing hangar - with high ceilings. Throughout the room there was a variety of exercise equipment, all of it in poor condition due to the fact that it had, by this point, been moved across the width and breadth of the galaxy, in greatly decreasing number, rather like the armed forces it served.

Wes raised an eyebrow at that thought. Fleeing machinery. But, in a sense, thatís what it was. It would be a pile of scrap metal should the Yuuzhan Vong ever get a hold of it.

At first glance, the room seemed to be unoccupied. Then, Wes caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Curious, he turned to look.

And found himself flat on his back in the blink of an eye.

"What in the Sith was that?" he asked, dazed. His head felt sore from where it had come in contact with the mats. Wes was not tall, but a meter and a half is a ways to fall, especially if one is going straight back.

"Lieutenant?" was the questioning reply.

Wes shook the after-affects of the fall off and looked up at the owner of the voice. It was a face he knew. The dark skin was just as smooth as it had always been, if slightly more lined around the fine dark eyes and well-chiseled mouth. But the cheeks were still flushed prettily with exertion. It was a face that loved to laugh, even though one high eyebrow was raised in a look of disbelief. But what caught Wesí eye was the short, dark braid, slightly grizzled with gray, that held a plain red bead on the end.

"Lieutenant?" Wes repeated, directing the query at the body lying on top of him.

Shalla Nelprin removed her hand from his throat and stood up in one smooth graceful movement. "You startled me," she said accusingly.

Wes rubbed his throat. "I see you havenít changed your attack."

Shalla smiled, displaying the dimples that used to make Wes weak in the knees. She held out her hand, which Wes took gratefully. She pulled him to his feet. "Iím sorry, I guess I should say ĎMajor Jansoní now. Iíd forgotten that youíd been promoted after leaving Wraith Squadron."

Wes grinned at her. "Actually, itís Captain Janson of the Tanaabian Yellow Aces."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "My my, weíre moving up in the world, arenít we?" Wes found himself reminded of a past exchange where sheíd done the same exact thing. But that route was probably very unlikely. "Well," she said, giving him a once-over, "I guess that would explain the hideous flightsuit." She reached up and brushed her braid out of her eyes. "Would I be wrong in thinking that you picked that uniform?"

Wes stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "For your information, lieutenant, Iím rather fond of my flightsuit."

"Yes; Iím sure that it appeals to your bizarre sense of aesthetics."

He laughed and gave her a hug. She returned it without reserve, which pleased Wes to no end. He hadnít been sure if their past history - if one could call it that - would cloud a reunion. It didnít seem to, for which he was grateful. When she had pulled away again, he asked, "So what have you been doing with yourself for the last fifteen years?"

She raised an eyebrow and leaned casually on a vaulting board. "An awfully long period of time to cover, donít you think?"

"You know what I mean; are you married, do you have any kids, all that stuff."

She laughed. Again, Wes was reminded why he had found himself in bed with her all those years ago. Her laugh was deep and throaty. "I was married for a time," she answered him. "But we parted when both of us realized that marriage was not something either of us could handle." She grinned at him. "Iím sure I know the answer, but how about you?"

Wes spread his hands innocently. "Still single."

She rolled her eyes with mock-sarcasm. "Howíd I guess."

He nodded. "Yep, itís the bachelorís life for me."

She grinned. "So, youíre out of retirement?"

"For now. I used some of that old holo-appeal to gain some recruits back home on Tanaab and we ended up here to help Wedge save the galaxy. You?"

She shrugged. "I retired not all that long ago to start training Intelligence recruits. This war with the Yuuzhan Vong brought me back to active duty, though. Face, Kell, and a couple of the newer members of Wraith Squadron took Mara Jade and Master Skywalker down to Coruscant to try and make contact with survivors. I was asked to go, but I opted out and decided to stay here to help comb the surrounding forest for Vong survivors."

He nodded and leaned back. There was an awkward pause. 15 years is a long time, Janson reflected, as he watched Shalla shift her weight to the other foot. She was still adorable, even in middle age, and she had not let her flawless figure go at all. He wondered if she was still the same under the flightsuit as she had been in her youth.

He saw her wink at him, and knew that she had guessed his thoughts. Well, well, lieutenant, Wes said to himself, weíre playing the old game again.

This was a game Wes had played with many of his lovers throughout the years, though he had to admit that Shalla was one of the most adept. They had played it fifteen years ago at a party Wedge had thrown in honor of VICTORY OVER JANSON. She had won all those years ago by lowering the zipper of her flightsuit while his back was turned. Seeing her breasts partially uncovered like that had sent haunting images running through his mind. It had driven him to her bed that night before she had been driven to his.

The competitor in Wes would not let that happen again.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "What was that wink for, Lieutenant Nelprin?"

She grinned back mischievously. When she spoke, her voice was lower than usual. Huskier. Sexier. "Use your imagination, Captain." She said the last word with a twist that made Wesís groin tingle with anticipation.

Okay, so she had gotten better over the years. Wes, however, still considered himself the undisputed master of "Who Will Crack First: A Game of Sex and Will". He had thought about publishing a How-To manual to go along with it, but when he had suggested this to Hobbie, it had been met with a derisive snort.

He shifted closer to her and moved his hand as close to her shoulder as he could without actually touching it. The inadvertent move she made toward him, made him grin. "Score one for me, lieutenant," he said moving his mouth close to her ear and letting his breath play on the hairs on the back of her neck.

She gave another deep throaty laugh and the tingling in Wesís groin intensified. She glanced down at him. "Is that a comlink in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Wes refused to allow the age-old line to catch him. He didnít look down at his burgeoning erection, because he knew thatís what she wanted him to do. That would have been acknowledging his own desire.

The goal was to exploit hers.

He held up a hand and made a tisking noise. "Fifteen years apart, no communication, and youíre ready to jump down my pants without a momentís hesitation."

She crossed her arms under her chest again, this time making sure that they emphasized certain aspects of her figure. The tightening in Wesís groin magnified itself. If he didnít jump in for the kill soon, heíd have lost again. Not that losingís all that unpleasant an experience, he mused to himself, remembering the taste of her, the feel of her fingers tangled in his hair.

No! he yelled at his brain. I will triumph.

She smiled wryly and shifted her weight lazily from one foot to the other. "Yub, yub, Captain," was the insolent response.

Wes made a face and lowered his voice. He moved ever closer to her. "You know," he whispered, "Iím off-duty for another eight hours."

Shalla looked back at him, the lazy smile still making her dimples visible. Wes was a sucker for dimples, and it was clear that she knew it.

Wes groaned. Gods, has she gotten better!

"Score one for me," she whispered, stretching her arms over her head in a smooth sensual gesture that reeked of sex.

Wes found his eyes drawn down below her face to her breasts, which he could see outlined through the thin fabric of her tunic. His erection was now straining against the material of his flightsuit and the need had spread to a dead weight deep in the pit of his stomach. He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Shalla laughed again and Wes closed his eyes and tried to think of Emperor Palpatine, mynocks, space worms, Hutts, and any number of unerotic things. When he opened them again, he found Shallaís face mere millimeters from his own. Her breath was sweet upon his face.

"Sithspawn," he swore loudly, right before he pulled Shalla the rest of the way into him.

She started laughing, even as her tongue parted his teeth and entered his mouth. Wes gave a mental shrug and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her even deeper into him.

They kissed and kissed until both of them were in dire need of oxygen. "Well," she said, panting heavily, and rubbing lips raw from kissing. This satisfied Wesís wounded pride to some degree. "Well," she repeated, "Iím going to be the one who asks which one of us is closer. That way, weíll call it a draw."

"Iím in 2-7-MDT"

She brushed the braid out of her eyes again. "4-6-TYB. Youíre closer."

He grinned and kissed her hard. "Come on then," he said, and grabbed her hand.

They passed a good number of people in the hallway, including one of Wesís pilots and two of Shallaís trainees. They didnít even stop to acknowledge the greetings from their subordinates, they were in such a hurry to reach Wesís room. No doubt gossip would greet them upon their emergence.

Wes quickly keyed in his passcode and yanked Shalla into his quarters after him. No sooner had the door slid shut, then Shallaís arms were about him, and she was kissing him full on. Wes was conscious enough of the outside world to register that this was a scene both of them had been involved in before.

But none of that mattered here, now, in the middle of yet another war. A struggle for clothing ensued, as both searched desperately for long-awaited satisfaction; a common goal that made the process much more efficient. Wes would never have admitted it, but he had remembered the two nights he had spent with Shalla clearly. He had had many other lovers since then, and he had found himself reveling in the same spent satisfaction that he always had after sex many times, yet some subconscious part of him had remembered those two rounds of epic love-making in clear detail.

Wes ran his hands up and down her back under her tunic, before breaking the kiss to pull it off of her. The gap was brief, and he immediately began to kiss her again, enjoying the fact that she was warm and strong against him. He smiled happily. No, she was just as hard with muscle as she had always been. He could feel her breasts pressed up against the material of his flightsuit and her fingers fumbling with the zipper.

She managed to get it lowered with grunt of satisfaction before she pulled it off of his shoulders and down his arms. Wes removed his hands from her upper arms so she could manage it, before he moved them to her breasts, cupping each one and massaging it as she moaned into his mouth.

Wes literally saw stars when he felt her hands move down his sides, pausing briefly when they encountered the bulky material that still gathered about his waist. Then, she plunged down below, passing his undergarments, and sliding her hands across his groin. Wes caught her arms and pulled them out.

She protested.

"No," he said, pulling away from her for a second, "you donít want me to come before youíre ready, do you?"

She grinned at him. "Damn right, I do," she said, and with another one of her efficient single movements, shoved flightsuit and underwear down to his knees. She kissed him again and Wes sighed as he felt her hands move across his waist and down until she encountered his shaft. He groaned as she ran her fingernails lightly across. She did it again and he whimpered. Again, and he shuddered. Again, and he called out her name in a ragged breath. Finally, she did it one last time, slowly, barely touching him. Wes jerked as his orgasm hit, and he pulled away from her mouth, burying his head in her shoulder.

They stood there like that for a moment, before Wes regained control of his breathing. He looked up at her; she was smiling at him slyly. "You vixen," he said in amazement. "Now weíll have to wait a few minutes." He stepped out of his flightsuit and looked at the mess he had made distastefully. "I think Iíll have to do the laundry again." He kicked his boots into a corner.

She shrugged and kissed him on the jaw. "I think youíll survive," she said with a wink.

He considered this for a moment. "Fine," he said, "be that way." And with that, he swung her up and plopped her onto his bed. "Weíll just have to find some way to pass the time then, wonít we?"

She grinned at him and pulled him down on top of her. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would grow hard again with her lying under him like this. He started to kiss her throat. She made a noise of contentment. Encouraged, he started to work his way down. She moaned softly as he brought his mouth over her breasts and even further down to her bellybutton. He ran his tongue around the rim before he moved to the side, touching the sensitive spots along her abdomen lightly with his mouth. She arched into him.

He moved his hands still further and encountered material. He had forgotten all about her pants. "Lieutenant," he said softly, "I think that you are way over-dressed for the occaision."

He moved to the foot of the bed and pulled off the simple shoes she had been wearing to work out in. He ran a finger over her feet and laughed when she started struggling.

"Behave," she admonished.

"I have absolutely no intention of doing so," he said gallantly, and grabbed two fistfulls of material and pulled. The pants slid off easily. Sure enough, he felt the tightness in his groin again. He pulled her pants the rest of the way off before stretching himself out beside her.

Kissing her, he let his right hand move down her chest, exciting little moans of pleasure out of her. His fingers encountered the waistband of her underpants and he pulled them down, assisted when Shalla lifted her body off of the bed and drew her legs up. Never once breaking contact, he tossed the piece of material into the corner of his room.

He shifted his weight again so that he was lying on top of her, his erection pressed up against her thigh. "Stop delaying, will you?" she said crossly and parted her legs so he could enter.

He laughed. "Youíre the one who caused this delay. Not that Iím complaining, mind you."

She gasped as he entered her. "Shut up, Janson," she said hoarsely.

"Yub yub," was Wesís breathless reply as he began to move slowly at first and then with increasing speed. Their gasps, and pants began to move in sync as both worked towards a long-awaited goal.

She came in a shuddering breath as she wrapped herself tightly about him. Wes gave one final thrust and felt himself spill over. He collapsed as the waves of ecstasy washed over him.

This is a position I could get used to, Wes thought to himself as he moved Shallaís braid out of her face.

She sighed. "When we have to leave Borleias, are we going to stop this again?"

Leave it to Shalla to put the taboo question out in the open. Wes shrugged. "Do you want to?"

She turned in his arms. "I never forgot, you know." Her dark eyes were surprisingly serious.

He ran a hand down the side of her face. "Neither did I."

"So," she was hesitant, "do you want to see if this might happen to be more than just sex?"

Wes nodded. He was surprised to find that he did want this arrangement to be about more than great sex every fifteen years. It was nostalgia creeping up again. That and a burning desire to finally have someone to depend on. "Iím not cut out for marriage," he said softly.

She laughed. "I donít want to go down that road ever again. But we could see if something could work." She grinned lopsidedly. "Hell, the chemistryís there."

He leaned up and kissed her softly.

He was interrupted by a thump at the door. He ignored it. Whoever it was didnít want to be ignored; the thumping increased in volume. Shalla rolled off of him. "You should probably get it. Otherwise, whoever it is will probably break it down."

Wes grinned at her and jumped out of bed. "Itís probably my second-in command," he said. He reached into the drawers beside his bed for a pair of trousers. The knocking continued, loud, insistent. "Iím coming!" he yelled as he padded over to the door, making sure to watch Shalla as she moved naked, with a strong cat-like grace, over to where he had dropped her tunic. Gods, she was sexy.

He keyed in a command and the door slid open. "Force almighty," said the person on the other side, "I must be interrupting something."

Wes took in the sight of blond hair that hid the gray in it, somber blue eyes, and narrow face, and felt his draw drop.

Hobbie Klivian looked at him and pushed his jaw closed. "You had better be careful, Wes. People tend to fall apart in their old age. You donít want to over-exert yourself." He cocked his head. "Well, doesnít someone long-dead get a greeting from their best friend? Iím waiting."

Suddenly with a woman who wanted him in the room behind him, and a best friend he had given up for dead standing in the hallway before him, Wes forgot all about the fate of the galaxy. He didnít care about the Vong anymore.

It was one hell of a feeling.


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