The idea for this story came from my writing partner's brother.

I do not own these characters in any way. They belong, much to my chagrin, to LucasArts. I gain no money from any of my fanfiction.

Ouch

Tycho ticked items off on his fingers, reciting back what he and Wedge had covered via their comm on their flight down from Mon Remonda. "...over to Starlight, and then I think that's it."

Wedge nodded, one hand slipping up to brush back some sweaty hair. "Okay, then. You get that started, and I'll do the report. Oh, Wes!" Wedge called to the smiling pilot as he conversed with Hobbie, at the foot of his ladder. "Can I see you for a minute?"

Wes nodded, turning to say something to Hobbie, then jogged over to face his commander. He waved a salute at him. "Yeah, boss?"

Wedge chuckled at Wes's usual lack of military protocol. "Can you shoot the regular equipment requests through channels, to see if we can't get the new navigation packages a little quicker than the standard time?"

Wes rolled his eyes, sighing quietly. "Why don't you ask me to fly without my fighter, Wedge. There's just about as much chance of that happening as getting supplies ahead of schedule from Quartermaster."

"I know, but we have to try," Wedge answered. "Besides, who can resist that boyish charm of yours, and your dashing good looks?" he added with a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh, you know, I'll have to get you for that." Wes grinned, a predatory smile.

"Be careful, Wes, you're dealing with a professional prankster who's gotten the better of you on a number of occasions."

Wes continued to grin, unperturbed by his friend's threats. "You'll see, I'll embarrass you somehow, in front of a lot of people."

"We'll see about that," Wedge returned, bending to pick up his helmet from where he had set it at his feet. "Tycho, report to me in two hours with a progress on the transfer."

"Will do," Tycho replied, nodding.

Wedge turned, still shaking his head at Wes. He had only taken one step before he saw the bar sticking out from the steps leaning against the side of his fighter. He tried to slow, but his momentum carried him forward, and even his lightning reflexes couldn't twist him completely out of harm's way. The bar caught him a glancing blow to the side of his head, but mostly caught his shoulder as he tried to duck under it. He flailed for a moment, landing hard on his back, staring up at the distant ceiling of the hanger.

Only a moment later, he heard Wes laughing behind him, with a somewhat more subdued chuckle that had to be Tycho. Wes spoke first. "Wedge walks into a bar."

The shorter pilot dissolved into giggles as Tycho, deadpan, delivered the punch line for the eons old joke.

"Ouch."