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Wedge still wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up here.
Well, he knew, intellectually, but it was as if his brain refused to accept that it was real.
The "here" in question was an apartment on Coruscant, notably an apartment that did not belong to Wedge or to any of his pilots.
No, the apartment belonged to General Airen Cracken of New Republic Intelligence, and Wedge stood in his kitchen, sipping whiskey, watching as he pulled various raw ingredients from different cabinets.
Over the last, oh, six months or so, Wedge had started to get used to the idea that he and Airen were… something. He still wasn't sure what that something was, but he figured it didn't matter. Wes would make fun of him regardless.
Wedge had been here before, of course. General Airen Cracken of New Republic Intelligence was not about to stoop to having a tryst in a closet, and frankly Wedge was glad for it. Thirty though he may be, his joints appreciated that he chose to mess around on horizontal surfaces.
Still. A… something with a man almost thirty years his senior didn't mean Wedge had ever expected to be helping the man bake.
"These cookies are Dena's favorite," Airen said as he pulled up the recipe on a datapad, and slid it across the counter for Wedge to see. "I've never been able to make them the same way Josta did, but I thought we could attempt it."
Wedge nodded, then raised an eyebrow. "Vweilu nuts?"
"One of Jo's old family recipes, from before she ended up on Contruum."
"Mmm." Wedge surveyed the ingredients laid out on the counter, then frowned. "Where's the cinnamon?"
Airen blinked. "Do we need it? I thought the recipe said it was optional."
"This is why you haven't been able to recreate it." Wedge shook his head and snorted. "I may not be the greatest when it comes to baking, but I know my way around Corellian desserts. The cinnamon is not optional."
"I'll defer to your expertise." Airen pulled down a canister from a high shelf and put it on the counter. "How much experience do you have with baking?"
Wedge shrugged. "I've made ryshcate a handful of times. That's about it. Cookies can't be too much harder, even if they have…" He squinted. "Molass? What in the hells is molass?"
"A thick sweetener, made from sugar." Airen opened a jar of a dark, viscous syrup.
Wedge wrinkled his nose. "Eugh. This stuff is sweet?"
"I only keep it around for this. It's incredibly shelf-stable."
"Are you sure about that?"
Airen was not the type to grin, but Wedge could see the sparkle in his eyes regardless. He grabbed a bowl and set it down on the central counter. "Dry ingredients first." He then grabbed the bantha butter and put it into a reheater.
Wedge drained his glass and set it and the datapad off to the side, where he could still see its measurements and instructions. As he poured the flour, leavening powder, salt, and all-important cinnamon into the bowl, he noticed Airen attaching a wire piece to the mixer on the other counter. After hooking a larger bowl into the base, Airen put in the now-softened butter as well as two types of sugar and started the machine.
Wedge moved over to watch while Airen started putting away the used ingredients. "Easier to keep things clean," he said as he leaned against Wedge and reached above his head to open a cabinet.
"Smart," Wedge managed, feeling his mouth go dry. Airen closed the cabinet and stepped away. Wedge fought the urge to yank him back.
"Looks like we can stop the mixer," Airen said, and Wedge absently hit the switch. Once Airen poured in the nuna eggs, vanilla, and dreaded molass, he reached around Wedge to flick the switch, this time to a higher setting.
With Airen's hands now resting on either side of him, Wedge now found himself boxed in against the counter.
He tilted his head up. "Hey, you," he murmured.
A flicker of a smile ran across Airen's face. "Hello."
There was that damned sparkle in his eyes again. Wedge, frankly, was helpless to resist. He pushed up and stole a brief kiss.
There. That was a real smile.
Wedge reached behind himself and fumbled for the switch on the mixer, shutting it off. He stepped forward, pressing against Airen, bumping him away from the counter. "Are we going to finish these cookies or not?"
Airen let out a huff and stepped away, reaching for the bowl of dry mix Wedge had prepared earlier. "I suppose we must."
He dumped the dry mixture into the wet, and once those combined he added the oats and what Wedge considered to be the most important ingredient, the vweilu nuts.
With the dough complete, Airen unlatched the bowl from the machine and was about to cover it when Wedge stopped him.
"Wait, we have to try it first."
Amused, Airen set the bowl down. "Is that really necessary?"
Wedge nodded seriously, and plucked a small chunk of dough from the bowl, popping it into his mouth.
He closed his eyes and hummed. "That's some damn good cookie dough."
Airen huffed a laugh and put a plasticine cover on the bowl before setting it in the conservator. "Any more completely necessary steps?"
Wedge picked up the recipe and scanned the directions, smiling as he did so. "Well," he drawled, "it says we need to let it sit at least forty-five standard minutes in the conservator. I can think of a few ways to pass the time…"
There was that real smile again. "You're insufferable."
Wedge gave a little grin, one he knew was generally the bane of Wes Janson's existence. "You invited me here."
"That I did." Airen stepped closer, once again pressing Wedge up against the counter, now mostly empty. Wedge ran his hands up Airen's chest, and pulled him in.
Sure, that was some damn good cookie dough. But Wedge could think of a thing or two that tasted better.
Airen Cracken was reviewing reports at the (freshly cleaned) kitchen counter when Dena Cracken flounced into the apartment.
"I smell cookies," she said, and her path cut an unwavering line toward the rack cooling on top of the heating unit.
"Good evening," Airen said dryly. "Nice to see my only daughter after several months. I hope she's doing alright."
The eyeroll she gave was that of someone much younger. "You read my report, you know the mission went well." Still, she detoured to give her father a hug. "It's nice to see you again."
Once she acquired her prize, she sat down across from Airen. "You know, I heard a rumor about you."
Airen raised an eyebrow.
"A rumor about you, and a famous pilot."
Airen paused, then laid down his datapad. "I'm not sure you want me to respond to that."
Dena's face twisted. "Alright, that's more than I needed to know." She took a bite of her cookie, paused. Swallowed, then looked at it. "It… tastes like Mam's."
"Does it?" Airen had a faint smile on his face. "I enlisted some help this time."
Dena took another bite. "Antilles. He's Corellian, like Mam. Did you really get your situationship to bake cookies with you?"
Airen scrunched his nose. "I don't think I've heard of a 'situationship' before."
"Ask Antilles. He's young enough, he probably knows." She waved her hand flippantly. "You totally have a type, you know."
"I thought you didn't want to know about this."
She swallowed the last bit of cookie. "I don't. But he makes a damn good cookie, so I guess you can keep him around."
Airen just heaved a sigh, and picked up his datapad.
"Did she like them?"
Airen looked up. Wedge was leaning against his desk, practically sitting on it, datapad in hand.
"Elaborate, please?"
"Dena. Cookies." Wedge set the datapad on the edge of the desk. "Did they turn out okay?"
"Ah." Airen smiled fondly. "They were perfect, my dear. She said they tasted exactly how she remembered."
Airen could only really describe the grin that crossed Wedge's face as dopey. "That's great! I was a bit worried they wouldn't be right."
"Rest assured that they were wonderful." Airen stood up and pulled Wedge to him. "And I do believe you have Dena's credit of approval."
Wedge shifted his hands up Airen's chest. "That's good to hear. I wish I had the time to stay and meet her."
"Mm. Another time, maybe."
Wedge pressed in close, "Another time," and met Airen's lips eagerly.
Airen began moving his hand up toward Wedge's neck, to cradle his face, when he heard a noise.
"Hey, Da, I heard something that I thou—"
Wedge quickly pulled away, a truly magnificent blush forming on his cheeks and spreading down his neck.
Pash Cracken, Airen's son, stood in the doorway to the office, face bright red, nearly matching his hair.
"Oh sweet hells, I did not want to see that. Um, sorry, I'll just—" He backed out of the door slowly. "Yeah, good to see you, Wedge—sir—Commander—uh, yeah. Bye!"
Airen watched, bemused, as his son bolted away from the door. Wedge, whose blush was still a vibrant red, only offered "That was… mortifying." He dropped his head down onto Airen's shoulder.
Airen patted him on the shoulder. "He'll get over it. It could have been worse."
Wedge lifted his head back up, his face now more resembling a normal human complexion than the stripe along his X-wing's fuselage. "Doesn't make it less embarrassing."
"I believe children walking in on their parents is a time-honored tradition. I do, however, apologize for pulling you into the crossfire." Airen moved his hands back to Wedge's waist to pull him back in.
Wedge shrugged, and reached up to put a hand on Airen's neck. "I'm pretty sure that's what I signed up for."
Airen hummed, and a stray thought floated across his mind. "On the previous subject of Dena, she said something that I wasn't familiar with, and recommended I ask you for the answer."
"Oh?" Wedge's thumb moved back and forth behind Airen's ear.
"She called us a 'situationship.' Do you know what that is?"
Wedge pulled back, an incredulous look on his face. "She did not."
Airen raised an eyebrow. "Would I—"
"—lie to me? Absolutely, it's your favorite pastime." Wedge grinned. "Anyway, I think it's funnier if I don't tell you. Let you wonder."
Airen huffed. "I'm sure I could pull it out of you somehow."
"You can try."
Well. Airen knew a challenge when he heard one. He leaned in and savored the taste of Wedge's lips on his.