[ANTIGONE, in black beret, sitting in a director's chair, surveys the scene before her. A soundstage, set with a scene depicting a commanding officer's quarters on a Mon Calamari cruiser, crawls with stagehands, set builders, pilot wranglers, makeup artists, cappucino-fetchers, and one miffed script-writer]

IZZY: But-- but-- that's not how I see it! That's not my vision!

ANTI: Yeah, but that's my vision, Izzybaby. And what's the title of this fic again? Remind me.

IZZY: [resignedly] Antigone The SmutSlut's Birthday Ficlet.

ANTI: Exactly. [settles into chair, ignores her writer, and turns attention back to the set]

IZZY: [sighs wearily, seats self on floor next to director's chair]

[onset]

RANDOM STAGEHAND: Quiet! Quiet on the set!

[pilot wrangler place two oragne-clad, dark-haired me on the set, close to the bunk]

[a bell rings, the door slams closed. IZZY moans.]

STAGEHAND: I said quiet, please! OK! Antigone The SmutSlut's Birthday Ficlet, scene one, take one! [smacks clapper]

[there is silence]

IZZY: [pokes ANTIGONE] Can we get an 'action,' maybe today, please?

ANTI: [who is playing with her beret] Oh, right. ACTION!

[everyone silently stares at the orange-suited men, who stare back.]

ANTI: CUT! Cut! Guys! What's your problem!?

WEDGE: There's no script. We never got one.

ANTI: Of course there is-- waitaminute.... [turns to glare at IZZY]

IZZY: [defensively] I did say 'vision.' I never said anything about actually writing something.

ANTI: [heaves a sigh] Fine. [grabs pen and paper, scribbles furiously. When finished, hands it off to a cappucino-fetcher who hands it off to the orange-suited men and then gets ANTIGONE a cappucino.]

WES: [reading] What the....

ANTI: Just do it. [gives the men a very satisfied, feline grin] [sips her capp]

[WEDGE and WES look at each other, read over the 'script' again, and suddenly make a break for it. They are stopped before too long by a few pilot wranglers.]

IZZY: Give it up, guys. It's a closed set. You're doomed. Just get it overwith so we can go home.

WEDGE: [shrugs] OK.....we can get through this, Wes. Be strong, buddy. [puts hand on WES's arm]

[meanwhile, ANTIGONE motions for cameras to roll]

ANTI: [to herself] This is like the real thing!

{WEDGE slowly moves closer to WES, who shyly places his hands on WEDGE's slim hips and pulls him even closer. WEDGE wriggles a bit in WES's grip and smiles. ANTIGONE's grin goes from merely feline to leonine. Even IZZY is enthralled as the two men embrace each other comfortably, easily, willingly even. Their eyes flutter closed, and just as their lips are about to meet-- ]

GLIM: CUT!!!

{Glimmer Girl, head of the wardrobe department, troops in, followed by a pack of extremely well-dressed Padawans. She herself is head-to-toe glitter. As she moves, light reflects off of her onto the walls, making her a human disco ball.]

ANTIGONE: What? Cut? Why? And since when do you get to say 'cut'? That's my job!

GLIM: These men [points to WEDGE and WES] are inaccurately costumed!

WES: Er, these are our flightsuits. You don't get much more accurate than that. [reaches out as if to finger WEDGE's sleeve, but tweaks WEDGE's bum instead. WEDGE jumps, then grins.]

GLIM: [strides over to pilots with Padawans in tow] But look. [smacks WES's arm, cloud of dust rises] They're all dirty.

WES: [mutters] It's authentic space-dust......

GLIM: [turns to WEDGE] And where's your General's insignia?

WEDGE: [confused] What general's insignia?

GLIM: Right, exactly! [turns to Padawan pack] OK, take them away, spruce them up at bit.....and add some glitter. Especially in this one's hair. [ruffles WEDGE's floofiness]

ANTI: A little glitz couldn't hurt....

IZZY: No! [WEDGE and WES look at her gratefully] That's inaccurate. [shakes head vigorously]

ANTI: Dude, we're not exactly making a documentary here! Who cares? Not me. [to GLIM] Go ahead.

[Padawan pack lifts WEDGE and WES bodily and carry them off the soundstage. Two seconds later, they return with two tastefully glammed-up pilots.]

IZZY: [impressed] Huh. Good job, guys. [Padawans preen, GLIM grins happily]

STAGEHAND: OK, people, let's go, come on. Antigone The SmutSlut's Birthday Ficlet, scene one, take two [smacks clapper]

ANTI: Go! Yes! ACTION! [too excited for words]

WES: Now where were we..... [feathers one hand through WEDGE's now-sparkly hair] Hmm, nice. Oh yes, I remember now. [pulls WEDGE to him a bit roughly. ANTIGONE bounces crazily and IZZY is forced to sit one her.]

WEDGE: Er, hi, Wes.

WES: [yanks WEDGE against him and grins] Shut up. [kisses WEDGE firmly]

[Jaws drop across the soundstage. Drool buckets are carted out by cappucino-fetchers.]

ANTI: Wow....

IZZY: [pokes Anti] Shh.

ANTI: Right....

[The kis goes on for quite some time. Eventually, people become restless, and Camera One motions for a cut.]

ANTI: Cut and you're all fired, I swear. They can go for as long as they want.

IZZY: [nods, entranced]

[much later]

[the scene is unchanged except for the sound of crickets in the background.]

the end!

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