Chapter Text
You close the door to Wedge's room and lean against it, idly hoping Wedge doesn't hear the soft thump as you let your head fall back. This is going to make your life very, very difficult.
Because you're pretty sure you just realized that you, Wes Janson, Crack Shot and Skirt Chaser extraordinaire, are almost probably-definitely in love with your friend, your pilot, and now your commanding officer, Wedge Antilles. Who is quite clearly in love with currently missing friend and Jedi, Luke Skywalker.
Well shit.
--
On the plus side, it's entertaining to watch Hobbie's eyes go wide when you tell him; it's so rare that you manage to catch him off guard that it almost makes the awkward realization worth it. Hobbie's better at reading you than anyone else, and the fact that you figured out something before he did is refreshing.
"Please tell me you're joking." His voice is as flat as ever as he looks up at you from where he's sitting up in his bed in medbay.
"Nope," you reply, popping the 'p'. You drop down into the chair beside his bed, immediately propping your feet up.
"This is some terribly thought out prank."
"Not even a little bit."
"You mean it. You think you're in love with Wedge."
As amusing as it always is to throw Hobbie for a loop, you wonder if you should have kept your newly realized feelings for Wedge to yourself. That maybe this is something you should have kept buried and private, waited for your infatuation to blow over. It always has before.
But you have a suspicion it won't be so simple this time, because the situation isn't. This isn't an infatuation, something that will fade once you get bored. You said the word love, and you meant it.
And if you can tell anyone, it's Hobbie. The man is your best friend, you trust him more than anyone in the galaxy, and you know yourself well enough to know that you need his level head to talk you through something like this.
Not that you're going to make it easy. "Pretty sure that's what it means when you see someone hurting and the only thing you want to do is kiss the sad out of them."
Hobbie's frowning at you, as though trying to decipher if you were stupid enough to actually follow through on that instinct. Truthfully, if it had been anyone other than Wedge, you might have. Hobbie at least gives you the benefit of the doubt and doesn't ask. "You're serious."
"Yes, I'm serious." You can't help the bit of frustration coloring your words. The hazard of being known for constantly taking the piss out of people is that it makes it hard to get them to take you at face value. "I think I'm in love with Wedge." You sigh, and slump down in your chair a bit. "Pretty damn sure, actually."
"Why?"
The question catches you off guard. "What do you mean, 'why?'"
"I mean, why?" He's still frowning, but at least he's taking you seriously now. "Why do you think you're in love with Wedge?"
You really should have known better than to think he wouldn't make you try to pick this apart. "I just told you."
"Tell me more."
A groan escapes you. "I hate you so much. But fine." You tap your fingers on the armrest of your chair, trying to find the words. Or at least a way to talk around them. "Well, it's Wedge. Who isn't at least a little in love with the guy?"
"Disagree, but continue."
You mentally call nerfshit on that; it might not be in a romantic or passionate way, but you really can't imagine knowing Wedge and not wanting to be near him, and that's not a new realization. Luke might be the star of the Starfighter Corps, but Wedge is for sure its heart. He's brilliant, wickedly funny when the mood takes him, and has a level of determination and morality you didn't think a person was capable of having. You've never respected anyone the way you respect Wedge.
Not to mention how good of a pilot he is, which is objectively at least a little bit sexy. You can freely admit now that it's really sexy.
But now isn't the time to argue with Hobbie about Wedge's appeal. You take a long pause, this time specifically to make Hobbie wait, before continuing. "When I took him to his room yesterday, it… it hurt, seeing him like that, especially knowing there wasn't a damn thing I could do to make him feel better. It made me wonder what I would want -- what I would do if I was in his position, wondering if someone I cared about that much was alive or dead. Which made me realize I had been in that position, or at least close to it."
You look over at Hobbie; his expression gives away nothing. "When?" he asks.
"That same day. Not sure if he got past that Star Destroyer, waiting in the hangar for him." You snort in amusement. "Ask Tycho, I was a damn mess."
At first, you hadn't worried. He's Wedge Antilles after all; if you had managed to get out of that scrape, there was no way he wouldn't have. He was just a few minutes behind you. So you confirmed Hobbie was in the medbay, checked in with Tycho, waited in the hangar as the remaining members of Rogue Group arrived.
And waited.
He's on his way, you told Tycho, told yourself, unwilling to believe it wasn't true. But that didn't stop you from pacing, from looking up in hope every time another ship came into the hangar. The deck officer was surprisingly patient with how often you asked him to check and see if Wedge had been directed to a different hangar, and sympathetic every time he told you no.
He'll be here, Tycho told you, but it was obvious he was trying to convince himself as much as you.
Your chest had nearly exploded in relief when the deck officer finally told you that Wedge was on his way in.
And seeing that same worry and panic reflected back at you when Wedge found out that Luke hadn't checked in…
You tip your chair back on its hindlegs, looking up at the ceiling. "So yeah. If Wedge is in love with Luke, which we both know he is, it's pretty clear that I'm in love with Wedge."
You can almost feel Hobbie's frown as he scrutinizes you. You hate it when he does that. He can always see through your shit -- everyone's really, it's astounding how much he can pick up from the littlest things. The pause before he speaks is almost long enough to make you squirm. Probably intentionally. "So what are you going to do?"
"Do?" You laugh, nearly tipping too far back in your chair before letting it drop back onto all four legs. Maybe he's not as good at reading you as you thought. "I'm not gonna do a damn thing. Give me some credit here, Hobbs, the man is tied up in knots because Luke is missing. Even if he and Luke were just sleeping together, which, again, is definitely not the case, I'm not that opportunistic."
"Yes you are."
Hobbie's not wrong, and you glare at him. "Fine, but I'm not an idiot." Hobbie's mouth opens, and you continue before he can disagree again. "Not this time, not with Wedge."
He's still frowning at you, but it's no longer in annoyance at least. "Why not?"
You know this type of question, the sort that Hobbie asks not because he doesn't know the answer, but because he does. He just wants to hear you say it. "Making a pass at him right now -- any time in the near future, really -- is probably the shittiest thing I could do. He needs a friend, not someone trying to get into his pants. And he is my friend, not to mention my squadmate and currently commanding officer, which complicates the hell out of even trying to hop into bed with him. Especially considering…"
"Considering what?" Hobbie prompts. He wants to make sure that you understand just what it means when you say you're in love with Wedge. Unfortunately, you do.
"Considering…" You sigh, and drop your feet onto the ground to rest your elbows on your knees. You look at the ground instead of Hobbie. "I'm not interested in just hopping into bed with him. I mean, I am, but not as a hook up or a comfort fuck. Not that I think I'd be able to turn it down if he wanted that." Well, that's a thought that's going to be stuck in your head for a while, and you know you don't have enough shame to stop you from thinking about having Wedge like that when you're in your bunk later tonight. Might as well take advantage of having your quarters to yourself while Hobbie's in medbay.
Hobbie's still silently watching you, and you give him a small shrug, not knowing what else there is to be said. Finally, he drops the impassivity, his expression now sympathetic. "That's pretty shitty."
You shrug again. "It's not the end of the world. I mean, who hasn't had a thing for someone completely unattainable?"
Hobbie gives you that look, the one that tells you you're being an obtuse jackass. "A 'thing' isn't how you were describing it a minute ago."
You don't have a response for that, because he's right. A thing you would know how to handle -- either sleep with them or move on and sleep with someone else. But you already know that won't work in this situation. It's Wedge.
You said that you were in love with him. And you meant it.
Sometimes, you hate having a best friend who's this observant.