#the only reason Tycho stopped being the kind of person who would insist he could live on nutrient paste and supplements and like. powders.

[meredoubt]

Screaming. How have I never gotten this Andreja line before? Not the Traumatized Snake Cultist therapizing her frighteningly well-adjusted bestie: Snake Cultist, PhD. Damn.

What do you mean his childhood memories of his family gravjumping to always stay ahead of the Great Serpent (i feel like House Va'ruun, in diaspora, actually has straight up different theology than Zealots or the common line on Va-ruun-kai) means he's developed worrying hoarder/looting tendencies. YES he lists ammo/credits/ship parts before anything else in terms of value! You can survive on nutrient paste and it's light-weight!! But you musn't rely on others ahead of the crew! Have to balance lightweight to run but also being as self-sufficient as possible! All must fear the coming Shrouding!

[drinkupthesunrise]

I mean it wouldn't even even really be much of AU, but definitely here for Wedge/Mon Mothma, long distance relationship, because that pairing has definitely been in my head.

To, what I’m sure is absolutely no one’s surprise, this got a little out of hand. Properly AU, because the only other fic I could think of was the love letters on I really want to write one day, and I want to do that justice. So instead of that, have something that is really very id-ficcy and contains too many feelings about having the person you adore live far away from you. (to be ao3ed later, I’m sure. now on ao3!) Also! Tagging @sassysnowperson and @harusamemosuke as the other people I’ve dragged onto this ship somehow.

Theymeet in the comments section of a blog post about D H Karver’slatest romance novel.

Lookingback, it’scertainly an odd start to a relationship. The fact that it goesanywhere is something near a miracle.

Butsix months later, Wedge spends almost his entire day in contact withher. She’sthe first person he messages when he wakes up, and the last person hetalks to before he goes to sleep. His friends are all highly bemusedby the situation, wondering why Wedge is now almost surgicallyattached to his phone, wondering who the mystery woman is.

Wedgedoesn’t have an answer to that.

Hedoesn’t really know himself.

.

WedgeAntillesMorning,Mon. Sleep well?

MonShit.…I might have worked all night.

WedgeAntillesIt’sstill morning? :DThothat’s not good, what on earth were you doing? Something importantenough to justify you being up all night?

MonInsome ways.I’lllive Wedge, this is hardly the first time.

WedgeAntillesIknow, but doesn’t mean I like it. You should take better care ofyourself.

MonAsyou keep telling me.Toobad I don’t actually have you to look after me.

WedgeAntillesPhysicallydragging you to bed is beyond me, I’mafraid.Gohave something to eat and then try and get a nap, okay Mon?

MonCan’tmake any promises, but I’ll try.

Hestill doesn’tknow much about the particulars of her life, what she does for a job,what her last name is, what she looks like. None of it matters,because he also knows her as well as he knows anyone else in theworld. He tries to stop himself falling for her too hard, knowingthat he’s only got a limited picture of who she is. But thefeelings are there, no matter how hard he tries to stop them.

Itdoesn’tmatter what she looks like, or what she does. He knows the truth ofher, and that’s all he needs to know.

Hesent her a photo of himself, seven months in. It’s a candid one thatTycho snapped, of him at one of their community activism events. It’sreasonably flattering, though he only meant to send it so she had anidea of what he’d looked like.

WedgeAntilles

WhatI did today.

MonIsthat you, on the right?

WedgeAntillesYeah.… why?

MonYou’revery handsome.

Wedgeremembers blushing. He remembers trying to wave her off, but she’dbeen quietly insistent on the truth of it. He’d asked for one in return, but she’d never sent one back. 

.

WedgeAntillesSo.Look. No pressure, but my friends and I are coming to London in threeweeks for personal reasons, and I was just wondering – do you wantto have dinner?Iunderstand if you don’t, I know you’re busy.AndI’mjust some random guy off the internet.

Mon(Mothma? Unconvinced)Wedgeyou’rean important part of my life, not some random guy off the internet.Whenare you here? There might be something I can’tget out of, but I’ll try.

WedgeAntilles25thMay. It’s a Friday.Youprobably have better plans for a Friday than me.

Mon(Mothma? Unconvinced)Can’tthink of anything better than spending time with you, don’t putyourself down.I’llhave to check with my aide.AmI good to pick the restaurant? Where are you staying? What do youlike?

WedgeAntillesI’measy :D Surprise me.

.

Wedgetexts Mon throughout the day, though they are both busy, and thereplies are sporadic. As the day draws to a close, Wedge feels thebutterflies starting to form in his stomach.

He’snot nervous. Well, maybe a little, but it’s a thrill, not a deeprouted anxiety. He can’t quite believe he’ll finally get to meether.

Allhis friends know where he’sgoing. He leaves to his fair share of ribbing, but he really couldn’tcare. He makes his way down the escalators to the tube, cursing thelack of signal means he can’t text Mon, his usual strategy to dealwith his dislike of crowds and hustle and bustle.

Hedrums his fingers against the overhead rail as he waits for his stop.

Monhas picked a restaurant not far from the Palace of Westminster. Itmakes Wedge wonder whether he’sgot it right about her identity. He’s starting to think that it isn’ta coincidence she shares a name with the leader of the oppositionparty. He doesn’t really want to think about it that hard, hasn’tpressed because he doesn’t want to know. He’s trusted that she’lltell him what he needs to know.

Nowhe will find out anyway.  

Heclimbs up from the tube, around the corner, checks his phone. He hasa text from her confirming that she’sthere. He sent her a photo, a selfie snapped off earlier that day, soshe knows what he looks like. He hopes that she’ll spot him.

Hepushes the door open. It’s more rustic than he figured, closer to apub than a restaurant. He glances round, looking for a woman at atable on her own. He can’t see one clearly. He moves into the tables,trying to look in the crevices.

“—Antilles?”

Ahand is at Wedge’selbow. It’s not a woman’s hand, it’s a man. He smiles warmly atWedge. “Yes?” Wedge replies.

“Mon’sthis way, if you’ll just follow me.” The man leads Wedge to atable behind a partition. There’s a woman sitting at the table. Awoman who is familiar.

Aclose crop of red hair sits atop a long, pale face. Her shirt – asalways – is white, with a single red and silver broach pinned to herchest the only spot of colour. Her mouth is pulled into a soft smile.She’sknown for her neutrality, her position as a figurehead, the unitingfront of her party. There are others who fight her battles for her.

“Youknow, you could have told me,” Wedge says, as he sits down. “Ihad my suspicions.”

Montucks a strand of hair behind her ears. She’snervous. “I didn’t want to scare you off,” she says. “Andthen… it just seemed easier to explain in person.” She smiles athim, and Wedge feels his stomach flip. Then she turns. “It’s okaySinjir. He’s clearly exactly who he says he is.”

Sinjir,the man who brought Wedge over casts an asparaging eye over Wedge. Hecrosses his arms. “Ifyou say so. He doesn’t look like a threat. Call me if you needanything.”

Heturns on his heels and leaves, and finally, Mon and Wedge are leftalone.

.

Fifteenminutes in, Wedge’sphone goes off.

“I’vegot to get this, sorry.” Wedge answers it, and lifts it to his ear,knowing that despite the caller ID saying Tycho, it could be any oneof his friends who’s decided to give him an out. If he doesn’tpick it up, they’ll all come down there. “Yes?”

“Hereis your fifteen-minute-emergency get out call, Hobbie is primed tomake up some Grade A bullshit if you need it.”

It’sWes. Of course it’s Wes. “Tell your boyfriend to stand down, I’mfine.” Wedge runs a hand back through his hair. “I’ll keep youguys posted on when I’ll be home, don’t do anything stupid whilstI’m gone.”

Wedgehangs up. He puts his phone back in his pocket. When he looks backup, Mon is giving him an odd look, one eyebrow raised. “Myfriends,” Wedge explains with a wave of his hand. “Promised tocall and give me a reason to get out of this if it wasn’t goingwell.” Mon’s eyebrow remains raised. “Their idea,” Wedge tagson. “I knew it would all be fine.”

“I’mglad you have friends who look out for you like that.” Mon’swords are soft. There’s an undercurrent that Wedge is familiarwith, having felt it many times himself. There’s only so much youcan do for someone who lives that many miles away from you. It’sreassuring to know that there are people in their corner, who can bethere for them when all you can offer is kind words down a line.

Wedgefights the urge to reach over and take her hand. “They’regood eggs. Pain in the backside too, but they’re good.” Wes,Tycho, Hobbie – they’re the best friends a guy could ask for,really. And then Wedge laughs to himself.

“What’sso funny?” Mon asks.

Wedgegets himself under control. “Youknow how we met? Talking about D H Karver’s novels?” Mon nods.“This is ridiculous, I’m warning you.”

“Goon.” Mon smiles again, and Wedge is determined to make her smile asmuch as he can that evening, because her smile is so delightful.

“So,it’s a pen name, we all know that. But no one knows who she is,she’s mysterious as fuck—” Mon laughs as Wedge swears without acare. “You know why? She’s actually my friend Hobbie.”

Monlooks at him for a moment, trying to decide if he’sserious. “Your friend Hobbie, the same one who took ten years torealise he was head over heels in love with his best friend, is famedromance novelist D H Karver?”

“Apparentlyso.” Wedge shrugs. “I only found out last week, when the guyswere interrogating me about you – sorry, I tried not to say toomuch – and Wes burst out into violent laughter when I told them howwe met.”

Monstares at him for another long moment, before her face crinkles upand she starts laughing. It’sjoyful and jubilant and Wedge can’t help but join in. He laughswith her, grateful that he’s with her in that moment, to see herreact and not to have to rely on the tools of text and emoji for herto convey her delight. “That’s amazing,” she says. “What acoincidence.”

.

Theyfinished eating long enough ago that they should probably be movingon. Dinner has been more delightful than Wedge ever even dreamed itwould be. At some point, he slipped over to Mon’sside of the booth to show her some pictures from his day, and henever left. He’s stayed by her side, the two of them brushingagainst each other constantly, sharing touch with ease.

Hewatches her. More than he probably should. He wants to remember her,the way her face lights up as she talks, so he can picture it later.If he looks long enough maybe he can commit her to memory.

Shepauses in the middle of her speech. “Sorry,I’m going off on one again.” She looks back over and Wedge iscaught staring.

Heducks his head, feeling as the heat covers his cheeks. “Sorry,”he mumbles. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Doesn’twant to be that guy, who can’t clamp down his feelings, who makesit weird.

“Youdon’t need to be embarrassed,” Mon says. She places a hand on hisknee, squeezing softly, and then runs her hand along the outside edgeof his thigh.

Wedgeis from a circle of touchy-feely friends, who live in each otherspockets and will fit four of them on a two-person sofa. But thisfeels different. It’snot some bullshit heteronormative nonsense, where it’s differentbetween a man and a woman, because Wedge is about as straight as awinding country road. It feels different because he wants Mon,because there is this connection between them, and Wedge hopes tohell and back he’s not misreading this.

Helooks back up at her. Her smile takes his breath away. He tries togather up the courage to say something, thinking if there is a momentwhere he could, it is now. But the words stick in his throat. Theuncertainty haunts him. He’drather things just stayed like this. He doesn’t know what to do ifshe disappeared out of his life.

“Wedge?”she enquires.

“It’sokay, carry on.” Wedge smiles back at her. He reaches for her hand,the one that’s on his leg, tangling her fingers in his. “I likehearing you talk.”

.

Theytalk a little while longer, and then Mon suggests a walk, around andalong the river. Wedge, who has no wish for this night to end, agreesreadily. Mon takes care of the check, despite Wedge’soffer to go half with her – she chose the place, she pays, that’swhat she says. He can pay next time.

Wedge’sheart jumps at the thought that there will be a next time.

Monmakes a striking figure in her long white coat. She’staller than him, and gains another inch or so from the low heels onher shoes. Wedge doesn’t mind that. He doesn’t have manypreferences when it comes to looks. Mon is an objectively lovelywoman – she’s not a classic beauty, but there’s something abouther features, her character, that makes people believe in her, towant to do anything for her. Wedge knows her better than that, andthe feeling only gets worse as you know the strength of her heart andconvictions.

(She’solder than him too. That doesn’t bother him either. His friendshave always says he’s an old soul.)

Theystep out, and there’sa chill in the air now that comes with the late evening. “You knowaround here better than I do,” Wedge says, looking at the way thewarm light from the streetlamps catches in her hair. “Lead theway.”

“Alright.”Mon offers her arm. It takes Wedge a moment to realise she’soffering it to him, and then he accepts it, linking his arm throughhers.

Theysettle into step easily. Mon points out relevant important landmarkswhen they pass them, but mostly they walk in quiet. She leads himround, and then down to Westminster Bridge. They stop halfway acrossit, pausing to watch the river.

“Idon’t like London much,” Wedge admits. Mon lives here, representsone of the many London constituencies, and he doesn’t know ifshe’ll take offence. “It’s too busy for me. But from here, Iguess I could.” It’s quiet, and he can see the stars above, andMon is by his side, and Wedge thinks that he’d like anywhere, ifonly she was with him.

“Theriver is one of my favourite places,” Mon says. Her hand rests inthe small of Wedge’s back. “Especially at this time of night. Icome out here sometimes, just to think. Spent a lot of time textingyou from this exact spot, actually.”

Wedgelifts his head up to the sky. “Irecognise the stars,” he says, finding the constellations the sameway he did in all the pictures she sent. He thinks of all those latenight messages, stray thoughts that crossed her mind, accompanied bya snapshot of her view. He turns his head to look at her, only tofind she’s already looking at him. “Thanks for sharing this withme.”

“I’vewanted to for a while.” Her fingers reach up, brushing Wedge’shair out of his face and behind his ear. As her hand pulls back, herfingers graze across the line of his jaw. Wedge wants to lean intoher touch, but it’s so fleeting, been and gone before he has timeto reach up and keep her hand here. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“WishI was here for more than an evening.”

“You’rewelcome to come back,” Mon suggests. “Or I could come and visityou. I’m sure I could find some excuses to be north of the border.”

“Notsure how welcome you might be, given how hard you campaigned for theunion.”

Monshoves him, playfully. “WedgeAntilles, don’t tell me you’re a nationalist.”

Wedgelaughs, leaning back into her. “Ifear politics may be a dangerous thread of discussion.” He shrugs.“Eh, I don’t have any stakes in that game. I’d like you tovisit. I’d like to spend any time with you I could. I’d certainlylike to see you more than once a year or so.”

“I’llmake it happen. Find a date. You’re really not that far away,really.”

“Scotlandmight as well be another country from London, honestly.” Wedgelaughs. “I’d take another date.” He pauses, when he realiseswhat he’s said.

Monmust catch his wariness. She reaches over, tangles her fingers inhis, and speaks before Wedge can backtrack. “Thiscan be a date, if you want it to be.” Her grip tightens. “I’dlike it to be,” she says, voice soft and sweet, and so utterlysincere.

“Oh.”Wedge gasps.

Shelikes him. She wants this. Wedge isn’tthe only one with a mess of feelings he doesn’t know what to dowith. This evening has been exactly what Wedge has wanted to think itwas.

“Iwant that.” The words are awkward, but Wedge reckons it’s ablessing that he gets them out at all. “I—” He forces himselfto look at her, to meet her eyes. “I like you. I’ve liked you fora while now. I just… I didn’t want to put that on you. But I’dlike to date you, very much.”

Thewords feel clumsy in his mouth. He hopes that he gets enough acrossthat she understands, the way she’salways understood him.

“Ilike the sound of that,” Mon says back.

She’ssmiling, and Wedge feels the tug of desire. He steps forward,bringing them closer. “Can I—” He inclines his head towardshers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,”Mon says, before closing the gap herself.

Theymeet and it’sall Wedge has dreamed of, in those quiet moments where hisimagination got away from him. There’s nothing inherentlyspectacular about it, but it feels like home. It feels like they’vekissed a thousand times before, but no less exciting for that fact.

Itends too soon. Wedge pulls back to look at her. Two bright spots ofred colour her cheeks. Her smile is bright, reaching right up to hereyes. She looks giddy with it all. As is Wedge. He’sso happy right now, happier than he ever remembers being, filled withan infectious joy.

Andso he kisses her again.

.

“Idon’t want to go.” Wedge scuffs his feet along the floor, knowingfull well that he should be responsible. It’s late. He’s tired.His friends are probably starting to wonder if he is coming home thatnight.

“Well,you don’t have to.” Mon cocks her head at him. “You couldalways come back to mine. My sofa’s free, if you want it, or I’vegot an empty half of a bed.” She blushes, looking away, a littleembarrassed. “If you don’t think that that’s moving too fast.”

“Youdid point out we’ve basically been dating for six months or so, wejust didn’t know it.” Wedge reaches in his pocket for his phone.“I’d love to, I just should probably check that my friends aren’twaiting up to interrogate me – which they will be – and let themknow I’m fine.”

“Youdo that.” Mon squeezes his hand as he steps away. He dials Luke,given that it’s Luke’s flat they’re all crashing in. Also, Lukeis unlikely to give him the full dose of grief. If he’s the one whoactually picks up his phone.

Wedgelistens to the line ringing, and prays that his exceptional run ofluck holds. Luckily, it does. Luke lets him go with minimal fuss,thanks him for calling, and ignores the way Wes and Hobbie areheckling in the background. It leaves Wedge to turn back to Mon, witha wide smile. “I’mall yours,” he says.

“Excellent.”

.

Wedgewakes the next morning, in a bed that isn’this own, a warm body along his side. He blinks his way toconsciousness slowly, stretching out.

Besidehim, Mon mumbles a noise of displeasure, and nestles closer to hisside. She throws a leg over his thigh and an arm round his waist,determined not to let him go. Wedge lets himself lie back into it fora moment, enjoying the physicality of her lying beside him, knowingthat its absence will haunt him later. He runs his hand over her arm,tucks his nose into her hair.

Theylie like that for a while. Wedge doesn’twant to ever get up, to leave the comfort of her arms. But he has atrain to catch. “Mon.” He pokes the soft flesh of her upper arm,as deliberately as he can muster. “Mon, darling, I’ve got to getup. I’m booked to get out of London by midday, because past me wasan idiot who didn’t think this through.”

Shegrumbles, clutching him even tighter. “No.I’ll book you on another train. A flight. Whatever.”

Wedgeallows himself to consider it for a moment. To stay with her, in thisbed, ignoring the world and their responsibilities. It would bebliss.

Butthey’donly buy themselves some scant hours. Wedge has a number of thingsfrom his event yesterday that need wrapping up, and a weekend’sworth of chores to do. Mon has – christ, Mon probably has goodnessknows how many things she needs to do.

“Ican’t,” Wedge murmurs back at her. “Next time.”

Monuntangles herself from him. She stares at him, her red hair rumpledand falling every which way over her head. She’slovely like this, Wedge thinks, unguarded and completely herself.“Next time,” she says. “I’m clearing three days of myschedule and we’re not leaving the bed.”

Wedgelaughs, and ducks into kiss her.

.

Wedgeends up dashing across Euston station for his train, to where Wes,Hobbie and Tycho are all waiting in the first carriage for him. Theytug him on a moment before the guard signals for the train to depart.“Surehope your lady friend was worth it, Wedge,” Wes teases, as theymake their way to their seats.

“She’sworth the entire world,” Wedge replies, not caring what amount ofshit he gets for waxing lyrical over her. As they sit down, Wedgepulls his phone out of his pocket. He’s got a text waiting.

MonMothmaMissyou already x

Wedgesmiles softly to himself, knowing he must look lovestruck.

WedgeAntillesMissyou too.Ilove you.

MonMothma…you couldn’t have said that when you were here????

WedgeAntilles… sorry?

MonMothmaIlove you too.Callme when you get home safe.

WedgeAntillesIwill.