"Hotel," Bette replied, fumbling in a too tight pants pocket for her room keycard. Flourishing it finally, she peered at it. "Sumplace near here..."
Before Kelly could get a good look at the keycard, Bette tucked it into her back pocket. "Itsa niiice room. Yep." She waved her free hand expressively, "'Spensive." She leaned into his supporting arm, her head against his chest, even as she protested that she could get there "jus' fine."
He shook his head and moved his hand up her arm to her shoulder, then down, then up again.
"Thur's no way I'mma let ya go 'lone. Not th'way yer floppin' about."
Kelly squeezed her tighter to him to emphasize the point, then took the non-squeezing hand from her shoulder and held it out, almost demandingly so.
"Lemme see." He meant the room card.
"I'm. Not. Floppin.'" Bette took care to enunciate her words. Still, she retrieved the keycard and gave it over to him without a fuss.
She winked. "Tryin' to get inta my room, Mista' Perrish?" Bette smiled up at him as he looked at the card, and then drew away, a different look overcoming her face. "Oh. I gotta get t' the head."
Untangling herself from her old friend's arms, Bette turned around, locating the refreshers and lurching through the crowd toward them.
"Yeahright." He laughed. "Oh, ok. You go do dat den." One, two... "Hey! Wait a se..."
Before he could stop her, Bette was off, wading through the assorted crowd of drunk around them. He tripped over his words a little, then stared in disbelief after her. Oh yeah, the keycard. Kelly held it up and squinted to look at it, trying to make out the tiny words through the haze on his brain.
"Aw, frell it." He muttered.
Kelly looked at the card one last time, figured he might have the hotel name right, then shrugged and pocketed it. Only after a few minutes of standing around with a stupid look on his face did it suddenly occur to him that maybe he should wade through the accumulation of alcohol induced zombies after her. This would be easy.
She managed to reach the 'fresher without hitting anyone too hard, and elbowed her way into a stall to relieve the pressure on her bladder. Bette stared at the partitions, reading commlink numbers and the crass sayings that other females had scratched into the paint.
She zoned out.
After a while she finished her business, washed her hands and did a little boogie to the music as she dried them. Exiting the 'fresher, Bette looked around for Perris, who was no longer at the bar where she'd left him.
He'd waded through the crowd and reached the women's fresher, stood off to the side of the door a moment, then a grin crossed his handsome, drunken features. Yes, that would be fun. What an excellent idea. Kelly Perris hid himself best he could, and watched. And waited. And waited. How long does a girl take to use the fresher? Kelly was just starting to get impatient with this game of his when suddenly, Bette sauntered out.
She looks confused. Hehehehe.
The grin on his face widened. Perris tiptoed as best he could, right up behind her, and clamped his hands on her shoulders, and whispered (a little loudly) -
"BOO!"
She was drunk, but she wasn't about to be taken advantage of. As soon as the hands grabbed her shoulders Bette was reacting, the drink causing her brain to bypass the usual thoughts and plugging her body right into her instincts. As the person said "Boo!" in her ear, she'd already grabbed his hands, twisted out from underneath them and while the guy was off balance she spun him onto the ground.
Panting, and with a knee on the guy's chest, Bette blinked at him a little blurrily. "Wha- Perris?" He wheezed a little as she got off him, and she tried to help him to his feet, but now that she was using her alchohol muddled brain again she couldn't quite grab his hand.
He managed without her help, and she started laughing. She was still laughing as one of the bouncers helpfully directed them outside of Cloud 9 and left them outside in the cool Bespin night.
Escorted out in to the cool-aired night, Kelly was still chuckling a little and rubbing the back of his head, which had taken a good smack thanks to the floor of the Cloud 9. Delivered, of course, by Bette Davis, drunk extraordinaire. His other hand was stuffed into his jacket pocket, thumbing over the rounded corners of the keycard. Slowly, their laughter died down, and Kelly snapped his hand out from behind his head to steady Bette again, who looked like she might take another little trip.
"Whoathar. What now, m'dear?" He drawled out, grinningly. He laughed a little. "Shell we getcha to yarroom?"
He figured he'd at least see her back safely, then wander down to his room, which oddly enough, was at the other end of the hall from hers, if he remembered the room number from her card correctly. That would be easy enough.
Mm, yep. Easy as piiiiie.
"Room!" Bette proclaimed, pointing a finger in the air. "And room service. Gon' need waffles or som'thin' to dry up this liquor."
Remembering where her hotel was suddenly, Bette grabbed Kelly's arm and dragged him down the walk towards the Sunset Hotel...Inn...lodge? Well, she knew where it was anyway. Then she tripped, he caught her and swept her around to hold her upright.
Breathless and held snugly in his strong arms, it only took Bette's brain three seconds to figure out what to do. She stood on tip toe and kissed him right on the lips.
Uh, well...Ok?
Considering certain awkward facts that would create the opposite effect, and considering that she was what should be considered the enemy, Kelly would normally have backed off and been completely straightforward about where he'd been and exactly who he was, to avoid any nastier repercussions. Well, anything worse than an attempted thrashing by Bette. But, since giving him a sound and hurtful thrashing was apparently the farthest thing from her mind, and rational, coherent thought wasn't really occurring in his head either (thanks to the alcohol), he just gave in and kissed her back. In fact, there wasn't much giving in involved at all. Not much thinking either, for that matter.
When that ended, he pulled back a little and looked at her (holding on), and grinned lopsidedly.
"Well, h'lo ta you, too." He managed, turning his head slightly, briefly, to look down the walk, before returning his full-on attention to her.
"Shall we?"
"Oh, we shall," purred Bette, not releasing her hold on him for a moment. Trailing a hand down his chest, the TIE pilot finally relented and positioned herself under his arm as they headed for her room.
One of her arms was around his waist, and she let it drop down and give his rear a good firm squeeze. Bette's brain was buzzing, and she could barely put two thoughts together that made sense. All she could think about was the moment.
At her door Kelly looked like he might try to play a gentleman and excuse himself, but as the door clicked open she grabbed his lapels and pulled him inside. Walking backwards Bette jumped on him as they cleared the threshold, the door swishing shut behind him just before he crashed into it with her legs wrapped around his waist and her mouth on his.
She was hungry for companionship. When you faced death every day in the cockpit... Bette tugged at Kelly's shirt, finally ripping it open and sending buttons flying everywhere.
The tone of her voice, the position of her arm around his waist, then her hand to his behind made his brain whirl. A certain lopsided grin swam up on his face with it all, but as they got closer to her room, sobering waves hit him. The commander wasn't sure this was a line he wanted to - or should - cross. Not now, not with what he had become and what she still was. The consequences if he were to let anything slip weren't exactly appealing. And so... He tried to protest, honestly he did. But Kelly Perris had been just as lost for companionship as she for quite some time (despite the tales he shared between himself and squadron mates) which made the temptation incredibly difficult to resist. With nary a thought, Bette had herself hopped up and wrapped around him like a vicious tentacled thing - dangerous, yet strangely alluring.
"Bette..." And his words were muffled as the door swoosed, the buttons flew, and their faces came so close to one another the darkness of the room couldn't see a separation - mouths mingled, words muffled. He would have torn her off, and drew the line, but the basic drive of the human species decided to exert its will and have a little fun. And who was he to resist?
Oh yeah. I can manage. The though was a most satisfying one. Oh yes, yes I can.
Half an hour later Bette lay on her back on the bed, panting up at the ceiling. Kelly rolled over next to her, and she sank into the pillows, still floating on a haze of alcohol.
After a moment she flipped over, propping herself up on her elbows as she traced a circle on Kelly's chest with her fingertip. Bending close she kissed his skin, then nipped at him. "Mmmm, just as good as I remember." She snuggled into him and her hand traced more circles, descending downwards.
"I happen to agree." A self-satisfied smile sat lopsidedly on his mouth, moving one hand to toy idly with her hair, pressing a kiss into it before she went about circling over and over on his body. The feel of the soft tracing action was strangely calming, and he had readily forgotten about all the objections he had in mind a half-hour previous in the intense activity just completed. It was worth it for the moment - frack the consequences until the consequences were good and ready to be had.
"So 'just as good', huh?" He laughed, coughing a little from the alcoholic haze and catching of his breath. "A shame that after so much time there's not a switch of a hair of improvement."
The smile on his face turned to a teasing grin, wondering how she'd react to what appeared to be a form of insult - really, a nudge of jest. He believed things did improve with age.
Bette growled playfully. "I was jus' about to say th' same thing. I'da thought you'da learned some new tricks." Her hand trailed to his bellybutton, and she stuck her finger in it, knowing that he hated that.
Kelly groaned and grabbed at her hand, and she snatched it away before he could make contact. Pouncing on him, Bette straddled her former lover, trying to pin his hands down. "I'm sure that I blew your mind, as usual." She leaned down to kiss him.
yo ho yo ho a pilot's life for me
Kelly squirmed a bit at the finger invading in his navel, and swatted at her hand, trying to fend it off, grinning at the fact that she still remembered that little infuriating detail. She still remembered how to toy with the idea of pushing his buttons. "Leave that alone."
Next thing's next, Bette was on top of him. Being pinned down by her he could easily overpower her if he so chose, but the seasoned rebel pilot decided to play along with her delusions of grandeur for power and dominance because... well, still being affected somewhat by the liquor had something to do with it, in any case. When she went in to kiss him in that way she seemed to do, he suddenly got the funny idea in his head to not let her and avoid it, sliding his hands and curling his fingers around her wrists.
"You assume far too much, Shooter." He said with a wry smile, and a swift move that had their positions now reversed. He hunched in closer, making the bare space between his face and hers close to indistinguishable. "More than my mind is blown."
Then a thought occurred to him. "Are you still as good as this out in the black?"
She grinned and rubbed her nose against his. "Better." She squirmed suggestively underneath him, even though he'd just rebuffed her advances and put her in a submissive position. The regular TIES pilots are just plasma cannon fodder, but us Shadows just cut through the rebels like a hot knife in nuna butter."
Bette nipped at his lower lip, too drunk still to notice the sudden change in his demeanor.
Hearing her say those words.... the damage to his fellow squadrons, some of it even to his own - though not often - was something he should have known, should have expected that she would be behind. He taught her nearly everything she knew, and then some. It left him wondering then, why he hadn't noticed it before, why there was always that one enemy fighter that was just out of his reach, just as he was out of theirs.
It stung. Despite everything shared before, and what he thought they shared now... he was fooling himself, and it was his own lack of restraint that got him here.
Typical man. Thinking with my pants.
He hung his head, took a deep breath, and then... he laughed. "I still don't know how ya still can be doing it. I guess that'll be beyond me for ages to come."
She looked up at him, and quirked an eyebrow. "Us jockeys never retire, Perris." Bette wiggled out from underneath him and sat up on the other side of the bed, fishing around for her underwear. Regulation black, of course.
"Can't see how you live without the feel of the yoke in your hands and a couple tons of metal screaming around you." She smiled, wistfully. "It never gets old." She located her things, and squirmed into her panties.
He'd flipped over onto his back and threw his hands around his head, palms over temples. He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp, almost frustrated sounding breath.
"That's not what I meant, Bette." He slid his hands off his head and pulled up off his back, folding his left leg and hooking his left arm around the knee, his other hand planted on the bed for support. Kelly looked on the woman he'd known all these years, wondering how she couldn't have changed and shook his head, sighing. "Not at all."
The elder pilot rubbed a hand down over his face, from his eyes, over his nose and mouth, then around to the back of his neck and took his eyes from her form, slowly becoming further clothed. He fetched his trousers, boxers still within and pulled up the whole ensemble, then reached for his shirt, yanking it over his head and shoving arms through sleeves, the buttons still done up. Next was the zipper, button and belt. He cast a tired eye to where his coat was cast on the floor at the end of the bed, then looked back to her. "How you can still be fighting for such a terrible cause... one that would destroy a whole world and think nothing of it."
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