Recipient: wook77 for unexpected_task
Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Summary: Wedge mistakes the friendship Biggs and Luke have for something entirely different. Takes place just pre-Yavin.
Pairings: Wedge/Luke, (Biggs/Luke)
Rating: PG-13? I tried for higher, I really did.
Notes: Thanks to chachirinoda for the beta reading. But don’t blame her for mistakes.
Wedge couldn’t keep his eyes off Luke Skywalker. He’d come in with the Princess, and now they were going over the plans for the attack on the Death Star, but Wedge sure couldn’t keep his full attention on the briefing. While one part of his brain certainly absorbed the plans for the mission, the other simply breathed him in.
Luke wasn’t like the other pilots. Maybe it was that he was from Tatooine, but Biggs was from there too, and he didn’t have this same fresh-faced demeanor about him. Luke just seemed wide-eyed to the world, ready to try anything.
He was so eager, having not experienced the rigorous training that the Empire had provided to the rest of them. Wedge felt old and jaded just breathing his air, he wanted to be better because of Luke- wanted to be cleaner. He wanted to show Luke what he could be rather than what he was.
But now was not the time.
The meeting disbanded. The pilots each set off to their starfighters to make sure things were in order and their astromech droids were ready to go. Wedge’s R5 was strapped in and then beeped its affirmative when Wedge queried its readiness on his way up the ladder.
“Hey, Luke!” Wedge looked across the hanger bay at the sound of Biggs Darklighter’s voice echoing off the walls. Wedge watched as Biggs put his arm around Luke, both of them smiling.
Wedge and the other guys had all heard about Biggs’ childhood friend, but something churned in Wedge’s stomach. Visions of the stories he had heard what seemed like a thousand times flashed into his mind. Stories of the two of them growing up together on that desert planet: the two suns burning down on their love. Wedge added his own embellishments along the way – those pats on the back becoming loving caresses, shouts of success over a kill or a good shot (hadn’t they all heard about the womp rats?) turned into sweet nothings whispered between blonde and darker heads under triple moons while their bodies lay on cooling sands.
Without even shutting his eyes, Wedge could picture Biggs’ dark mustache hovering over Luke’s lips, breathing heavily, waiting for the moment when the build-up became too great and his mouth would come crashing down in a force of tongues and teeth and jaw bones moving ever so slightly.
“All right, Red Team, let’s head out,” Wedge heard on his radio, over the cacophony of passionate moans and grunts that Luke and Biggs were making in his mind. He nodded resolutely, and pushed down his visor. He didn’t have time to be Wedge, who was caught up in his own little world, it was time to be a fighter pilot for the Rebel Alliance. And with that he pushed his assumptions out of his mind.