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Hobbie, in a booth, sitting with his back up against the wall and his legs stretched out on the bench. Two mugs are on the table in front of him, one empty, the other half full of what is by this point stone cold caf.

Beside the mugs are his platoon of yellow army men, all arrayed in a desperate battle against the looming evil of the salt and pepper shakers.

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"'m gonna wake up," Hobbie mumbles, a hand twisting into Wes' shirt. "An' it'll all go away. Know it will."

"No," Wes says quietly, "no, 's not a dream, it's real, it's-- me an' you." Then he grins, a little ruefully, and his voice is muffled by Hobbie's hair. "If it was a dream, y'think we'd be stuck here?"

Hobbie lets out a choking sort of laugh. "We-we'd be on Folor. Stuck in DownTime. Or somethin' like that, at the least. And the lum'd be gone."

Why is the lum gone, perhaps?
"Uh huh." Wes grins and lifts his head a little, one hand at Hobbie's hair. "Plenty o' lum here. Definitely not DownTime. And--" He glances at the viewport. "--Folor's prob'ly not around anymore. Not a dream, Hobbs..."

"So this-you-me, it's real and and it's not going to go away?" Hobbie curls that much closer to Wes, trying to flash-burn all of-

-this into his memories just in case it is a dream.

"Real," Wes confirms, tightening his grip on Hobbie again and thinking. "Not going to go away," he whispers in Hobbie's ear, lips brushing his cheek just slightly, almost accidentally. "Always...my wing." Means more now.

Hobbie shivers-

all I think I ever wanted right here right now and sometimes if you fall, you fall, but sometimes you fly-

and finds Wes' lips with his own.

And this is Hobbie, and Wes hesitates just a second, half a second, before kissing him properly, closing his eyes again.

It's different, but maybe it's better, maybe it's-- more.

Eyelashes sticky with tears, Hobbie twists his head down to hide his face against Wes' shoulder.

"I... all I ever wanted."

"Anythin' else y'ever want," Wes whispers with a faint smile, "I'm here."

He brings a hand up to Hobbie's hair, trying to brush it out and see his face. "What're-- you crying?" He swallows. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Hobbie mumbles. "It's just... y'know when you're so happy it hurts? I... this... all I ever wanted, wingmate an' best friend an' now this and it... it's a good hurt, really. Like bacta stinging your eyes."

"...that's a good hurt?" Wes shakes his head a little, then lowers it and presses his lips to just above Hobbie's forehead. "Yeah," he says quietly, "I guess-- so you're happy?" He smiles, probably too brightly now. "Me an' you, and both of us happy?"

"Means you're gettin' better." Another shiver, then Hobbie looks up at Wes, worry plainly obvious in his eyes. "You-you're happy?"

"Guess it does." Then Wes grins, a small but happy grin, and nods. "Didn't know-- but yeah. Course I am. Now."

"Good," Hobbie says quietly, his voice fierce. "You should be happy. Cos... cos I say so."

"Can't argue with that," Wes concedes with a soft smile. "Only if you promise to stay happy too, though... 'kay?" He rests his head against Hobbie's again, stifling a yawn. "Gotta be happy."

Hobbie notes the yawn and slowly, reluctantly, pulls away from Wes. "C'mon," he whispers. "Should sleep."

Wes shakes his head, missing the closeness already. "Don't need--" And he yawns again, covers his mouth, then smiles ruefully when he drops his hand. "--sleep," he finishes pointlessly.

"Liar," Hobbie says fondly, and climbs over Wes so he can get out of the booth.

Once standing, he offers Wes his hands.

"C'mon, you. Up to bed you go."

Grinning a little, Wes takes Hobbie's hand and clambers to his feet, not letting go once he's standing, rather close. "Guess sleep's not some Sith-forsaken concept," he admits.

Hobbie grins and loops an arm around Wes' waist, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Isn't part of the Dark Side, sleep."

"Nope, I guess not," Wes agrees with another yawn, maybe leaning on Hobbie a little more than he needs to as they head for the stairs. "'s got its uses."

Hobbie helps Wes up the stairs and to the door of the room they've been sharing.

Or really, Hobbie's been sharing.

He unlocks the door and gently pushes Wes in the direction of the bed.

"Sleep, you," he repeats. "Else I'll have to pull rank on you. Or something."

Wes grins as he sits on the bed, yawning and pulling off his boots. "'s much as I'd like to see you try... you're right. I'll sleep."

Not bothering to undress further, he lies down and pulls the covers over himself, yawning again. Then he looks up at Hobbie, and props himself up on an elbow. "What 'bout you?"

"Got my bedroll," Hobbie says, nodding at the pile of blankets and pillows he's been sleeping on. "'m good."

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undignified - 2005-08-19 06:12 (UTC) - Expand

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hellobugbite - 2005-08-19 06:21 (UTC) - Expand

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