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Wes is usually the first to become childishly, endearingly excited about anything, especially plans like this, so Wedge expects him to come bounding into his office as soon as 2100 rolls around. When he doesn't show, Wedge goes looking, a curious frown on his face.
His questions are soon answered. He finds his XO in his own office, dwarfed behind his desk by stacks of flimsi reports and datapads. His head is tilted forward, eyes closed, but from his posture, Wedge doesn't think he's asleep.
Wedge raps lightly on the doorframe. “You going to sleep through our HoloNet date with Tycho and Hobbie?”
Wes sits up straighter, blinking furiously, and glances at his wrist chrono. “Sithspit, I didn't realize it was that time already.”
Wes smiles, striding into the room and offering him a hand up. “Looks like I'm overworking you. You need a good night's sleep; we'll keep it short.”
“No!” Wes is quick to protest. “This is a normal amount of work – honestly, Wedge, you keep your records far neater than Hobbie even without me. And like hell am I letting you cut this call short.”
Wedge chuckles. “Come on, then.”
They make their way to one of Folor Base's private comm stations, and Wedge punches in the code that will connect them with their partners across space on the Mon Remonda. In only moments, the two beloved faces waver into view.
“You're late,” Hobbie complains.
“Hello to you, too, darling,” Wes retorts.
Hobbie sticks his tongue out, and Tycho elbows him. “It's good to see you,” the Alderaanian says.
“You, too.” Wedge leans closer to the display. “We miss you.”
“Come on, Wedge, it's only been a few days since the last time we talked to them,” Wes points out.
“I miss you guys, too,” Tycho says supportively. “Rogue Squadron just isn't the same without you around, Wedge.”
“And I'll bet you're having just a terrible time keeping old Hobbie in line without me,” Wes chirps.
Hobbie rolls his eyes expansively, and Tycho laughs, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, yes, he's nothing but trouble.”
“How are the Rogues?” Wedge wants to know. “Is everything going all right? No problems?”
“Everything's fine. From what I've heard, your new squadron is producing some far more interesting stories.”
Wedge groans softly but says, “It'll be worth it. I believe in this idea; we just have to find the diamonds in the rough with this group.”
“We believe in you, too,” Hobbie assures.
They go on like that for awhile, trading affectionate quips and endearments, stories and anecdotes the others have missed out on since they last spoke. Wedge is animatedly explaining Wes's joke about an Ewok pilot being a candidate for the new squadron, but when he trails off, leaving an opening for Wes to comment, there's silence. He looks over and sees Wes slumped on the desk, face pillowed on his crossed arms as he snores softly.
“He fell asleep a little while ago,” Hobbie informs him. “I didn't want to interrupt your story. He looks like he needs it.”
Wedge watches Wes sleep for a few moments, savoring the warm affection that wells in his chest. He reaches out to smooth a wayward brown curl behind his ear.
“He's been working hard,” he agrees, speaking more softly now. “He never says no to anything. I couldn't ask for a better executive officer and second in command.”
Tycho snorts quietly. “I think I'm jealous.”
“I'm automatically your best second,” Hobbie tells him. “You don't have any basis of comparison, so I win.”
“You'd win anyway.” Tycho pecks him on the lips. “You're not just here because of your looks.”
Hobbies makes self-deprecating noises, blushing prettily, and they kiss again. Wedge watches fondly, a little ache in his chest. He knows he's lucky to have this much communication with them, but he wishes he was able to touch, too. He's so grateful to have Wes by his side in every way, but he misses the rest of their group. Things just aren't the same when they're not all together.
Tycho and Hobbie turn their attention back to the call, and Wedge can see them holding hands just beyond the edge of the frame. Tycho's gaze shifts to Wes's still-sleeping form. “Take him to bed, Wedge. Take good care of him for us.”
“You know I will.” Wedge reaches for Wes again, sweeps aside a curtain of hair to touch a gentle kiss to his ear. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs there.
Wes does, sitting up slowly with a soft look of bewilderment that has Wedge just having to put an arm around him and pull him close. “Time to say goodbye,” he says, “then we'll find you somewhere much comfier to sleep.”
Wes's forehead creases, his lower lip sticking out almost comically. “I missed the whole thing!”
“You didn't miss much,” Hobbie assures him. “Just some dick-waving over who's got the best second in command, Tycho being a silly romantic, that sort of thing.”
Wes still looks put out.
“It's not like we can't set up another time to do this right now,” Tycho assures him. “We've not going anywhere.”
Wes finally cracks a tired smile. “I suppose there's not much use hanging around when you did bore me to sleep in the first place.”
“Rude,” Hobbie deadpans.
“Four days from now,” Wedge suggests. “The squadron roster will be finalized by then, and we can tell you all about it.”
“That sounds good to me,” Tycho agrees, and Hobbie nods.
“It sucks we can't just do this everyday,” Wes whines.
“It does, but the New Republic isn't exactly fond of us wracking up those sorts of charges simply for social calls.”
“No one asked for you logic, Wedge,” Wes pouts.
“Okay, grump,” Wedge counters lightly. “I think it is past your bedtime.”
Wes just gives him a death glare while Hobbie and Tycho laugh.
“Goodnight, both of you,” Tycho says. “Sleep tight.”
“Don't let the Ewoks bite,” Hobbie adds.
“Love you both,” Wes murmurs.
“Love you, too,” Tycho answers sincerely. “You too, Wedge.”
“Yeah.” Wedge smiles, savoring the moment in all its bittersweetness. “Take care of each other, okay?”
“We always do, boss,” Hobbie says. “Make sure Wes gets enough sleep and eats his vegetables. And be good to yourself.”
Wes, nearly having drifted off again on Wedge's shoulder, doesn't have a comeback for any of that. Wedge himself only nods, giving a little wave before reaching to turn off the comm receiver.
“Okay, big guy,” he says, doing his best to leaver Wes to his feet. “Let's get you into bed.”