Fandom: Star Wars: X-Wing Series
Characters: Wedge Antilles/Iella Wessiri
Disclaimer: Not mine. Non-profit organization.
Summary: A moment during those missing - and highly intriguing - hours Wedge spent in Iella's apartment that infamous night in Starfighters of Adumar.
Author Note: Originally completed and posted November 2007.
Iella shifted, making a soft, contented noise, and Wedge grinned at the feeling of her skin moving against his. He'd never dreamed, when he knocked on her door a few hours ago, that things would—or could—end this well. When he and Wes had first reached the corridor, all he could think about was—
He sat up. "Sithspit!"
Iella yelped at his sudden movement, rolling off him and onto the floor. She landed with a wince. "Wedge, what—"
"Janson!" Wedge scrambled to the end of the sofa so he could stand without stepping on her.
"He's—" Having reached his feet, he looked down at her, at the vast stretches of skin she wore at the moment, and the words dried up in his throat. He stared at her, every other thought driven straight out of his head.
"Wedge?" She looked down, blushed, and pulled her knees into her chest. "Um...you said something about Wes?"
He snapped his mouth shut, the click of his teeth rebooting his brain. "Wes? Oh! Wes!" He vaulted over her caf table and started looking for his clothes. "Trousers, trousers, trousers. I had trousers when I got here, I know I did. Where—? Trousers!" He pounced, pulling the dark clothing from under a nearby chair and shoving his legs into them. "Wes is in the hallway. Has been this whole time. Where's my shirt?"
Iella had wrapped herself in a decorative blanket from somewhere, and pointed behind the sofa. "There, I think. Do you mean Wes has been hiding out there for—" She looked at the chrono on the wall. "—four hours?"
Wedge stopped, one arm in his shirt. "Four hours? Really?"
She blushed again and smiled, and he grinned back, completely forgetting his shirt. He was certain he'd never seen anything more beautfiul than Iella Wessiri at that moment.
She moved toward him, tucking the blanket into itself so both her hands were free, and helped him wrestle his other arm into its sleeve. As she fastened the few buttons of his tunic, she glanced up at him, and her smile widened.
"You've been wearing that same look for three of those four hours," she said.
He didn't think his smile could stretch any further, but it did. "I like it. I think I'll keep it."
She finished his buttons and smoothed the shirt over his chest. "Good." She kissed him. "Go rescue Janson."
Wedge wrapped his arms around her. "In a minute." He kissed her again.
Ten minutes later, his shirt had come unbuttoned, and Iella's hands kept drifting to his waistband. He backed her into the sofa, then grunted in confusion as, instead of sinking into it like she was supposed to, she climbed up onto it and then over the back so that the bulky piece of furniture stood squarely between them.
She pointed at the door to her apartment. "Wes. Corridor."
Wedge blinked. "Right." He looked down. "Have you seen my shoes?"
Between finding the rest of his belongings—boots, cloak, blaster—and his sudden inability to keep his hands off Iella, it took Wedge another hour to get out the door.
It took a lot longer for the grin to wear off.