This is just a oneshot I thought up just for the fun of it. Just to let you know, Vader is NOT in the suit; this is just so it'll fit the setting. Kind of hard to get the a man drunk if he's in a life support suit, I should think.

Title: Two Can Play at that Game

Summary: An Imperial gets an idea and offers Darth Vader a drink. Oneshot.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything SW, unfortunately. Sigh...

Lieutenant Tunrote sighed as he sat in the naval lodge provided for the officers. The Imperial sipped his bantha blaster. He was on his third round, and his mind was beginning to lose all sense of logic.

"You know," he said thoughtfully to a fellow officer. "Lord Vader never enjoys himself."

The Imperial shrugged. "That's just the way he's always been."

"I know," Tunrote replied. "I just think it's time he lives a little."

The officer looked at him shrewdly. "What exactly are you implying?"

Tunrote smiled mischievously.

Bordering the pleasant lodge was a balcony that overlooked the entire mountainous region. Birds sung from the myriad of trees that covered the mountains. The sun was beginning its slow fall towards the horizon, painting the sky pink, red, and yellow.

On the balcony sat the Dark Lord of the Sith who was the bane of every Imperial's existence.

Darth Vader sighed and breathed in the smell of the clear mountain air. He did enjoy being here quite a bit. Seeing as they would be stationed there for a while to keep the local population in check until a more permanent outpost was established, Vader didn't mind the relaxation too much. It gave him time to think, which, though he normally didn't enjoy too much, did offer some pause in his hectic life.

Just inside through the large windows was the bar where more officers than he cared to count were sitting and forgetting about life for a while. Vader didn't join in on the celebration of having a break. He was drunk on the fresh air, anyway.

Suddenly, he heard some glass smash in the bar. Vader sighed and stood up. He didn't care if his Imperials did get drunk on their down time but he wouldn't have them acting like animals.

Darth Vader entered the bar from a door on the far left of the balcony. Inside, he saw a whole horde of Imperials laughing over some ridiculous story. Others sat and talked at the bar itself. Vader looked down to see the smashed glass near a table that held a small group of lieutenants, who were, oddly enough, seeming to act rather calm.

The room grew silent the moment Vader was noticed. However, there were a few occasional murmurs from the drunker Imperials who didn't seem to remember that Vader hated unnecessary noise.

Sighing, the Sith Lord held back the urge to roll his red-and-yellow eyes and began to leave the room when suddenly a lieutenant from the table in question called out:

"Hey, Vader, come have a drink with us!"

Vader froze. So did the rest of the room. All of the Imperials held their breath.

Turning around, Darth Vader eyed the lieutenant. "Excuse me?"

The tipsy lieutenant stood up and walked over to him, holding a half-full glass of a bantha blaster. "Come have a drink, sir, I insist! You could use a little relaxing!"

Now Vader did roll his eyes. "Lieutenant, I have better things to do rather than express my woes—if I had any—to people who seem intent on killing their livers."

The lieutenant lost him after the first word. "I knew you would accept!"

"Lieutenant, I'm warning you, leave me alone," Vader said in a low, growling tone.

"Oh, all right, if that's how you want it, grumpy," the lieutenant sighed and began to walk away.

Vader was fuming. He was very tempted to kill the Imperial right there for impudence, but then he remembered that when sober, the lieutenant was very dedicated and quite helpful.

An admiral sighed and stood up. "I'm sorry about that, sir. Would care to have something else to drink? You do look a little famished if I may say so."

"I don't care for alcoholic beverages," Vader replied dismissively.

"At least a glass of water, sir," the admiral insisted. "You really do look a little under the weather."

"Fine, one glass of water," Vader said, only to shut the irritating Imperial up.

Darth Vader walked over to the table of admirals and sat down, taking the water from the admiral who offered it. Everyone was silent for a moment, waiting respectfully for him to drink first even though he only had water.

Vader began to sip and everyone downed their drinks. Once the water went down his throat it left an awful taste behind. Wait, this wasn't just water…

Suppressing a gag, Vader bolted up from his seat.

"Sir, what's the matter?" one of the admirals asked, looking worried.

Using the Force, Vader summoned the lieutenant who had started this mess—Lt. Tunrote—over to the table. The lieutenant slammed into the table, knocking the wind out of him.

"What did you put in my drink?" Vader hissed.

Even though he was in massive trouble, the lieutenant took it with a smile. "I just wanted you to relax a little, sir."

Vader glared daggers at him… at least if he were coherent enough to glare them. However, everything began to get warm and hazy and his world spun around slightly. Vader sat back down, a hand to his head.

"What did you put in his drink, lieutenant?" one of the admirals demanded.

"Just a flameout, sir," the lieutenant shrugged.

"What?"

The drink in question, a flameout, was one of the strongest alcoholic beverages out there. One sip and a person would already begin to loosen up. If one had a glass, they were drunk for the whole night.

Admiral Piett, who had offered the water in the first place, sighed and shook his head. "Sir, are you alright?"

Vader looked at him with bleary eyes. "What?"

"Are you alright?" the admiral repeated.

"Yeah…" Vader slurred, gripping his forehead even tighter.

"Here, sir," Admiral Piett said, offering juri juice, a beverage that had a little less alcohol than beer. "Since you're already… well, why not?"

Vader recognized the drink but was too far gone to care. "Oh, what the heck."

Vader grabbed the glass and downed it in one gulp and the entire room erupted into cheers and applause. Then everything went back to normal and everyone was within their cliques once again, drinking and talking. Only the sober ones would occasionally toss a concerned glance in the Sith's direction.

Although many were concerned that having Darth Vader roaring drunk was not in the best interests of survival, it turned out to be rather anticlimactic. All Vader did was just watch the other Imperials go about their business and sip his juri juice calmly. His eyes, however, were no longer red and yellow, but were a deep shade of blue.

"Is it normal for eye color to change when you drink if you're Force sensitive?" one officer asked another, but the latter merely shrugged, just as confused as the former.

As for Vader, he didn't have a concern in the galaxy. He just watched his Imperials laugh and talk, and contemplated the things he did in his life without even caring. Eventually, after three rounds of juri juice, he just blacked out.

The sun was too bright. Everything was too loud. Nothing was right.

Moaning, Vader sat up in his bed and looked around. What happened last night, anyway? The last thing he really remembered was sitting on the balcony enjoying the breeze and then…

Vader's eyes widened and he realized he was out of breath because he had forgotten to breathe.

Getting up, he immediately set out for Lieutenant Tunrote. The last thing he remembered was that blasted lieutenant spiking his drink. He was going to pay dearly for that.

It didn't take as long as he had expected to find the wayward lieutenant. He found him alone in a hallway.

"Good morning, sir," the lieutenant said, saluting as usual.

Vader stormed over to him, making sure that the Imperial knew he was mad.

"Uh, are you feeling better, sir?" the lieutenant asked.

Vader paused in mid-step before finishing his long stride towards the lieutenant and grabbing him by his uniform. "I don't know what was running through your head yesterday evening, but you won't be living long enough to—"

Then Vader paused once again, confused by the lieutenant's earlier question. "What do you mean am I feeling better?"

"Well, sir, you were rather unwell yesterday evening," the lieutenant replied awkwardly. "I mean, what you said and did—"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, sir, you… er…"

"Tell me what happened and I might consider sparing your pathetic existence," Vader spat.

The lieutenant flinched, bringing Vader some satisfaction. "Well, uh… what's the last thing you remember, sir?"

"I remember you spiking my drink," Vader growled.

"Oh, right, well, after that, you had a few rounds of juri juice, and—"

"Wait, why did I drink juri juice?"

"Admiral Piett offered it to you sir and you didn't seem to mind."

Mentally, Vader added Admiral Piett to his I'm going to kill you list.

"Anyway, so you had some juri juice and—"

"And then what?"

"Well it was actually rather dull. We all expected you to at least talk about something or slur or, well, something, but all you did was sit and watch us from the table. You didn't say a word or anything, at least until—"

"At least until what?"

"Milord, if you let me finish I can tell you," the lieutenant said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, you didn't say a word until about three or four hours after you first entered the bar. You—well, you kind of broke everything in the room."

"I—I what?" Vader couldn't believe this. One sip from that blasted drink and he demolished an entire room?! That was a great example to the Imperials; all he ever wanted was for everyone to see him when he didn't have strict control of his emotions, sure!

"I don't really know how you did it, though… I mean, all you did was stand up and then you began walking towards the windows and things just, well, shattered when you walked by them. By the time you reached the windows there was glass everywhere.

"So, uh, when you got to the windows—which also broke, by the way—you looked out and began to ball your fists up so tight that you made yourself bleed—they cleaned up your hand pretty well, there's barely anything left underneath your bandage—and then um, you said there were Rebels in the area. Well we were all caught off guard and then you suddenly pulled out your lightsaber and jumped off from the balcony down into the forest.

"Naturally we followed you and uh… well—well you certainly developed an interesting lightsaber style, sir… um, but you were right about the Rebels—"

"What would you know about lightsaber styles?" Vader barked.

"Not much, sir, but I don't think that stabbing a tree trunk is part of any lightsaber style."

Vader blushed and then muttered, "Force, I sound like Obi-Wan on Cato Neimoidia."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Nothing," Vader quickly said. "Just keep going."

"Yes, well, you managed to kill about seven of the twelve Rebels directly with your lightsaber—though you seemed intent on hacking off every one of their body parts before finishing them off for some odd reason—and then you killed one of them by slashing at a tree trunk and then the tree fell on them, though I don't think that was actually intended because you were yelling at the tree… but, uh, then we shot down one of them and you knocked two out and told us to take them prisoner for questioning."

"Yes, yes, at least that makes sense," Vader grumbled. "Continue."

"Uh, then you pinned the last one up against a tree and pointed your lightsaber at his face and said, Now, now, be a good little boy,"—Vader's face turned beet red as the lieutenant continued—"And the Rebel kind of looked at you funny and then you said, What, you don't recognize Daddy Dearest?—"

Vader couldn't help it; his jaw dropped down so far he thought it would hit the floor. "I said what?" Vader grabbed him by his uniform and shook him. "What—I couldn't have—what?"

He couldn't have said that! Was Luke really there with the other Rebels? If Lieutenant Tunrote heard him say that then the other Imperials did, he just knew it; nobody was supposed to know he had a son in the Rebel Alliance! And saying "Daddy Dearest" was not his idea of a reunion with Luke, particularly in front of his own officers!

"Yes, well, you did say that," the Imperial said awkwardly. "But, um, then the Rebel gaped at you and said that you weren't his father and then you deactivated your lightsaber and started drawing closer to him until you were a few centimeters from each other and then you said, Of course I am, Lukey Boy and then—"

"No, no, no, I did not say Lukey Boy…" Vader interrupted. "… Did I?"

The lieutenant had an impish grin on his face. Vader wanted to bash his head in. Instead, he settled for choking him through the Force. "You little…"

"Sir… I—I can't finish… telling the story if y-you… if you kill me…" the lieutenant choked.

Sighing, Vader released him. "What did I really say?"

"Actually, you just said Luke Boy, but I thought it would be a nice touch…"—Vader's glare interrupted that thought—"B-but of course you didn't say that, sir! But you said Luke Boy and then the Rebel gaped at you and said that Darth Vader was dead… a-and then you laughed and looked at us and said, Aren't I Darth Vader? And we all nodded and then you laughed some more and pinched the Rebel's cheek and—"As the lieutenant told him that, Vader's face turned about as red as his lightsaber—"and then you knocked him out. You told us to leave him alone, and—"

"Wait, that's it?" Vader said. "I just said leave him alone?"

"Well, yes, sir, and then you kind of stumbled back to the lodge. Do you want something better than that? I can fabricate a pretty good story—"

If looks could kill, the lieutenant would be in pieces.

"—Of course I'll just go on telling the story," the lieutenant quickly compensated. "Uh, you returned to the lodge and sat down again for a little while and then you… you passed out."

Vader blinked and looked at him before turning away, infuriated and humiliated. Why, oh Force, why did he have to drink that blasted water? Even if he did kill the lieutenant it wouldn't make a difference; everyone already witnessed what had happened.

As he turned, he saw the lieutenant looking oddly content with a twinkle in his eye. Wait a blasted second…

Without saying a word, Vader rushed out of the hallway and entered the bar. Glasses were either restocked in one night or they never shattered. The windows were perfectly intact, too. Outside there were no signs of a fight and no cut trees—or stabbed ones—to be seen.

Now Vader really was going to kill that lieutenant.

It had been two days since Tunrote fabricated the story that had the entire lodge rolling in laughter. He described Vader's reaction to every word and it was more hilarious every time he told it.

Tunrote himself was extremely surprised that he wasn't killed, but apparently Vader was more concerned with avoiding everyone for a while until the story had settled.

Sipping his drink, Tunrote remembered that all that had actually happened was Vader sipped three rounds of juri juice before calmly and quietly exiting the room, stumbling only slightly, before promptly going to sleep in his room. Everyone thought it was anticlimactic so Tunrote decided to create the tale to see the Sith Lord's reaction.

Tunrote was in the bar once again, but he wasn't going to mess around with Vader anymore; he had almost been killed telling the story and he did not want to relive that. After all, all he really wanted was to see a different side of Vader, not just torture him, and Force did he see a different side; Tunrote had never seen anyone blush so horribly red as Lord Vader.

Chuckling as he drank, Tunrote sighed contently and then drank some hard liquor with his friends. Apparently he drank too much because he soon blacked out.

The next time he woke up, he was in the medcenter. Vader was sitting beside him, examining him closely.

"Sir?" Tunrote looked at Darth Vader, completely disoriented and baffled.

"Oh, lieutenant, you're awake," the Sith Lord said mildly. "I was beginning to wonder when you would finally come back to reality."

"What are you talking about, sir?" Tunrote asked, feeling a little worried; why was Darth Vader waiting for him to wake up? What had happened?

"Well after what happened last night," Vader trailed off, looking a little irritated at whatever the incident was. "I was hoping you'd wake up soon; I've got a meeting to attend, after all, and I want to make this nice and quick."

Tunrote fought off the urge to grip his own throat in a feeble form of protection. "What happened, sir? I don't remember anything."

"Like I said, lieutenant, I don't have a lot of time, so I'll summarize it; it had to do with a fourteen-year-old girl, a few Imperial officers, and, well, quite a few blasters, too."

"What?"

Vader sighed. "Least to say, the girl's seeking psychological help, seven officers are in the medcenter for blaster injuries, and you even managed to give me a black eye."

With a sickening feeling, Tunrote noticed the dark stain around the Dark Lord of the Sith's left eye.

Darth Vader stood up and Tunrote held his breath. Then, inexplicably, the Sith Lord's black eye vanished and he smiled wickedly, letting out a soft chuckle before turning to leave.

Wait…

Tunrote gaped, wide-eyed. He stayed this way until Vader reached the door. "Wait!"

Vader paused and turned around, a twinkle in his eye. Suddenly, he lifted a small palm-held camera. "Smile, lieutenant."

The distinct click of a picture being taken was heard and then Vader began laughing and as he left, and the door opened to reveal a handful of Imperials laughing their heads off at the lieutenant's expense.

Tunrote was too surprised to react and then he suddenly heard the Sith's voice in his head. Two can play at that game, Tunrote.

Fin