Post by Scribe on Aug 15, 2009 10:49:46 GMT -5
2ND OCTOBER 2165, early evening
USS Enterprise NX-01
McRae's quarters
Major McRae;
Captain Merrick has asked that I extend an invitation to Fabien's tonight; for the party to end all parties... all MACOs are invited. Even the Fleeters...
but I hereby state now that the MACOs cannot be held responsible for the misbehaving that will ensue tonight.
So if you think you and your space troops can handle us grounders, by all means. Bring it on.
Gunny Rickman
Sloane reread the message and chuckled. Why she did, she didn't even know. The booze she'd been knocking back in the last hour while she weighed the pros and cons about her decision of not going was probably for a big part of it.
Whether she stayed aboard or went planet side, she had the night off. She had made sure of that. Getting piss drunk up here in space or down there was the one thing she was going to do tonight if it got her thrown out of the Corps.
The message had come hours earlier and, at the time, she was damned sure she shouldn't be setting foot at the Slain Beasts tonight. She had forwarded the invite to Maj. Riley and Capt. González and to her men aboard the NX-01 and that was it. No. She definitely shouldn't be going. Hell, for all she knew Gabe would be there. And Derick. Add her to the mix and she was sure they would do to Fabien's fine establishment what the Klingons hadn't managed: get the place destroyed. But she also wondered why she shouldn't go... why she should let Hayes dictate her life. Still. He was gone.
Had walked out. Why should she still care?
She shouldn't, Sloane decided, downing yet another bottle.
That left Derick, and that big newsflash she had to let him on. But it didn't have to be tonight, did it? It wouldn't be fair to fuck this night of revelry up with that kind of a downer, would it? Oh, what alcohol could do to grey matter. She could come up with every excuse her buzzing mind could think of, it wouldn't change the fact that if she didn't tell him first thing, it would be leading him on. Leading him for one more night. He certainly deserved better than that, as so bleeding annoyingly honest as he was. But the more the alcohol warmed her up, the more she forgot about that. She hadn't seen him in three days... hadn't talked to him since he had called a couple of nights ago, and she missed him, damnit. Of course, the best rationalisation was that if she didn't go, that would mess his night up anyway as he would wonder why she didn't show and might even leave to try and locate her.
And poor Merrick... she couldn't say no to him throwing a party. That wouldn't be right.
She opened another bottle of the cheap ale Chef had rustled up from god knew where and it was all starting to make perfect sense, to look reasonable. Never mind using Rickman for one more night or what kind of person that made her, never mind risking the brawl of all brawls at Beasts should Hayes be there or showing up already plastered in front of the men, she simply couldn't - wouldn't - sit out Merrick's shindig.
In a comfortable, feel nothing state, Sloane got out of uniform to slip into plain civilian clothing. If she was going to let her hair down tonight, it wouldn't be as the major. It would be as the angry, cheated, frustrated woman Gabriel Loman Hayes had made of her.
Bastard.
Looking more like a biker of old as opposed to a pilot or a MACO, Sloane's dark leather-like outfit attracted some attention when she entered the shuttle, mostly from a teasing Louis Brennan whom was already seated there, but one of her usual look told him not to venture on that tangent.
"McRae," Louis let out with a smirk, his eyes staying levelled with hers though it was clear where he would let them stray just to egg her on.
"Brennan." The sergeant too was in civvies, alcohol already on his breath much like her.
"Heading for Beasts?" If he noticed she was already buzzing from many drinks, Louis didn't comment.
"Got a pit stop to do first, but yeah, that's the idea. You?" Silly question. Everything about Brennan spelt 'party on', and that went for everyone else in the shuttle, Fleeters or Spacers. Good. She wouldn't stand out should she get hammered alongside everyone else.
Once the shuttle touched down, the people within spread out. Most were heading out to the Beasts or Ruby's, but after a wave to Brennan and other MACOs, Sloane made her way to the Outpost.
The streets were already busy with revellers. There was a joyous, festive feeling in the air, and thanks to the booze Sloane had already drunk, she was no longer too glum to not notice it. No. In fact, it was damn nice to feel that lightness. Like things were about to get back to normal, which, she supposed, were. At least for the colony.
Entering the Outpost, she had to squeeze past many punters to reach the back. Young Hunter was behind the bar with a couple of good looking gals, getting on with serving a real thirsty-looking crowd. The party atmosphere was well underway in here too, even if it was still pretty early. Not managing to catch Hunter's eye to find out if his boss was in his office or not, Sloane made a guess that he was and knocked on the door.
The door slid open. "I swear, Hunt--" The word died there and Seth's mouth stretched into a pleased smile. "Sloane... what a surprise. How nice of you to think of me when you want to party. Come on in." Taking a step back, he ushered her in before she would think better of it.
"Seth," Sloane started, recognising all too easily that look in his eyes. "You know why I'm here..."
"Well, I can always think of other reasons if I want to, right?" Seth let out with mock hurt in his voice. "I mean here's one half of our favourite pair of bone fide heroes!" A sweeping gesture of his hand indicated Sloane standing there while he stepped away to reach a cabinet behind him. "This certainly deserves a toast, Sloane. For you and your crew have destroyed the bane of the human race..."
Sloane allowed herself a smile. For his ways. His choice of words, always trying to sweet talk you into a deal. But she shook her head lightly. "No, sorry but thanks." One drink would always lead to something else with Seth and right now Sloane had no patience for his two-faced mercenary side or his other attentions.
"Don't mind if I do?" Seth asked, looking positively disappointed.
"Go right ahead." She had quite a few drinks on him already. She couldn't begrudge him wanting to join into what looked to be the 'national' past time for Gaians this evening.
Another charming smile and Seth poured himself a drink. "Do tell me, how Colonel Hayes is doing these days?"
Her blue eyes met his warm but shifty brown ones and caught the amusement in them. The tease. The taunt. Of course leave it to Seth to find out Hayes was now governor and off the NX-01. He probably even knew before she did. Or had it been already announced planet side? Sloane hadn't paid attention to anything occurring off Enterprise unless it had to do with Marke so she didn't even know for sure.
"You'd have to ask him, Seth." Her response came a little too cold and tight and something in Seth's gaze flashed. He didn't comment though, and filed that little titbit away for later. That was how the man operated and Sloane was quite acquainted with it. "So, can we do this? I've got some other place to be. You know, a big party night like this one, I got to at least go pay one round to the Enterprise MACOs..."
"Sure, sure." Taking another swallow, Seth regarded her before putting his glass down and headed for his desk.
While he did that, Sloane got some credits out to pay him with and looked up when she found the man standing right in front of her.
"Here," he said, grabbing one of her hands to push two metallic vials in it and close her fingers around them. Continuing his movement, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "It's been a while, you know," he said, his eyes meeting hers. His chin indicated the credits in her other hand while his free fingers played with a lock of her hair. "I'd been thinking... hoping for payment of another kind..."
"Seth, you know I prefer keeping our two... arrangements... separate," Sloane started saying, thinking that if she had stuck with a man like Yuskovski to only fill her 'physical' needs, she wouldn't be in the shitty boat she was in right now.
"Fine, leave the money on the desk too, if it makes you feel better," Seth was quick to reply as he leaned forward to take in her scent.
Sloane seriously considered Seth's advances all but two seconds, the alcohol buzz slowing her reaction time some. The conclusion was the same as what her gut was telling her: her life right now was complicated enough. Shacking up for a one night stand when she was on a bender, even though no -strings was damn appealing right now, it wouldn't help her deal with losing Hayes and having to let Rickman go. And with Yuskovski, no matter what the man said, there was rarely such a thing as 'no-strings'. He missed nothing and noted everything, and she was sure he kept a tally of the number of times he had given her an orgasm over the years.
"Sorry, Seth. I only came for this one deal." She pulled her head back a little and shook it resolutely.
"Oh, come on. A quickie then so you can go back to your dear MACOs and get pissed drunk on Fabien's cheap beer..." He smiled to excuse his bluntness but he was hardly joking. And for Seth to be that pushy, it meant only one thing; he had been celebrating too, undoubtedly imbibing in his own liquor store maybe since patrons had started to show.
"No." She looked at him steady before removing her hand from his hold and walking around him to put the money down on his desk. "Thanks for this. Enjoy the party crowd," she said as she turned to leave.
But Seth was right there once more, in her way. "Exactly. It's a party. We're meant to celebrate and you're all gloomy. Let me make you feel better..."
His arm snaking around her waist was probably what did it. Or maybe it was that when she tried pushing him off, he didn't budge. Whatever it was, all hat pent up rage and frustration she had been clamming on all week came to the fore.
"Get your hands off of me." The usual cut-the-crap tone she used with him was gone. This one was plain cold.
"Make me," Seth replied, not fazed one bit by her mood swing.
She looked down the length of their bodies, inviting him to do the same. There, between them, was her sidearm pointed at his favourite parts.
Chuckling, Seth shook his head. "Not good enough, Major." And for emphasis, he pushed his own weapon in her ribs so she would feel he had indeed seen her coming and had drawn too. "What did they use to call this? A Mexican Stand-Off?"
"I call it a waste of time. What are you planning to do? Get me to shag you at gunpoint?" Sloane asked like she was addressing the most idiotic man on the planet. "I never thought you were that desperate..."
And there it was. She saw it in his eyes. The initial reaction where he wanted to slap her so bad he could taste it and then the recognition of what his alcohol and lust addled brain had let him do. Seth didn't lose control. At least not often. And when he did, he loathed it.
"So, wanna take your chances?" Sloane asked, everything about her telling him she had nothing to lose. If they shot each other simultaneously, she really would not care in that instant.
"Nah. You're right; maybe tonight isn't a good night for it," Seth finally replied as gracefully as he could. Walking to his door, he keyed it open. "There you go. Nice doing business with you, as always."
"Have a good night," Sloane said, reholstering her weapon as she breezed past him.
"I'll see you around, Sloane."
And she was sure he would.
Emerging from the back of the club, she parted the beaded curtain and saw Hunter looking right at her. Plastering a smile on her face, she headed for the bar.
"Bryce," she greeted once she managed to squeeze past punters to reach him.
"McRae." Hunter looked at her strangely. "You're alright?"
"Thirsty. Very."
A quick look above her head and Hunter spotted Seth standing at the back. There was a pissed off look on his face the barman hadn't seen in a quite a while.
"You want something nice or the regular piss we're serving tonight?" Hunter asked her as he leaned close to be heard over the crowd without shouting.
"You're giving me special treatment?" Sloane teased back, trying to shake the earlier tension his boss had brought back up.
"Anything for a MACO who destroyed the Planet Killer," he shot back, knowing that would annoy the hell out of the major.
Shaking her head, she said, "I heard you played hero too, trying to save this bar and then defending the streets against the graterheads. How's the wound?" Tit for tat, reminding a man of an injury. Worked every time.
How the hell had she found out he had been knifed by one of the fuckers? "It's fine," Hunter replied, his eyes narrowing as she evened the score and he absently rubbed his side.
"Here, McRae." He turned and pulled out a nicely decorated bottle. "Enjoy this."
"How much do I owe you?" Sloane looked at the play of light on the bottle and the blue liquid within.
"Your credits aren't good here tonight, Major," Hunter said, even though he could see Seth shaking his head 'no' in the corner of his eye. No to serving her. No to giving the woman Romulan ale of all things and no for letting that good a drink go for free.
"Bryce, you rule. Enjoy the celebrations," she said, pulling him across the bar by his collar to kiss his cheek.
Grabbing her drink, she turned and blew a kiss to Seth, who had tried to step back into the shadows but hadn't been quick enough. A jerky movement of his head was all she got and she figured there was another male she had decidedly made an enemy of this week. With Derick to go, she wouldn't be going against the popular saying that all things came in threes.
A good exercise in slalom took Sloane out of the Outpost and back out on the streets. The early evening air was comfortable. Not too cold. Almost sweet. On her way to Town Hall Square, there was a lot of people about, drinks and shouts and even chanting as she passed one road leading to Centauri Quarter. She probably should have headed home to get dead drunk in peace, but the party vibe was all around and she was dead set on not letting Hayes dictate her actions any longer. If that meant showing up at the Slain Beasts and stare him down all night, so be it.
By the time she got in front of Fabien's tavern, her blue ale was almost gone and so were her sobriety and sense of balance. She had made a few friends on the way, civvies, Fleeters and MACOs, and was sharing a good laugh with them as people waited to pile into the Beasts. If she was recognised as McRae, no one said, and it was a damn refreshing feeling.
All Sloane hoped to accomplish tonight was to get hammered and forget, and so far so good.
*******
SLAIN BEAST TAVERN
Tonight... there was an energy filling the air tonight that Derick could almost see; people, happy and boisterous, letting down their hair so to speak and celebrating. Not mourning. They'd done enough mourning, they'd remembered the dead, those that gave their lives but as a colony, they were living as survivors should. Celebrating the life they had.
Showered, dressed and shaved, Derick made his goodbyes to Julian and Celine, telling them that they were to show up tonight, no matter what and left for Alex's house, riding the energy that positively crackled in the air. Even Gaia seemed to be celebrating, by offering up a star filled, cloud-free night and just the right temperature to make things comfortable in short sleeves.
Like everyone else's place, Alex's had grown a blue tarp as well, stretched over whatever part of the ceiling that hadn't seen fit to stay up under the bombardment the colony took. Derick was glad to see it was still standing though. Still remembering her near lifeless in his arms, Derick made a mental vow to make sure she and Tom were happy, for the rest of their lives.
Heading up to the door, he hit the chime and then rapped on the door solidly, with his knuckles.
Even though he had extended the invitation, Tom understood why Alex had declined to accompany him to the celebration at the Beasts. The MACOs were his men and Starfleet Security were hers, well they had been anyway. She still wasn't terribly impressed at being assigned to the new governor but in her condition, Tom couldn't say that he was unhappy about it. It would take weeks for her to recover fully and running security on Gaia was a taxing job.
Thus he had requisitioned a skimmer and dropped her off at Sully's newly constructed fleet bar Ruby's and returned to get cleaned up for when Derick turned up on his door step. Getting out of fatigues into civvies, Tom was shaved and showered by the time Derick knocked on the door.
"Get your arse in here!" He hollered.
Grinning, Derick entered, taking in the decidedly womanly smell that was Alex's place. "C'mon, old man!" he returned, jovially. "Night's young!" he said, moving into the kitchen. "Got any water?"
"What else is there these days?" He said with a good natured bit of sarcasm. "Check the fridge."
"Thanks," Derick replied, swinging open the refrigerator door. Ahh.. there. Water, nice and cold. "You want one?" he called over his shoulder. "I'm glad to see Alex's house made it through."
"Yeah," he nodded emerging from the bedroom. Oh if the walls could talk.... "I hate to see all her memorabilia go to waste." She loved her 20th century artefacts, his girl. "Sloane showing tonight?"
Good point. She hadn't responded to his email. Handing the bottle over, Derick shrugged. "Not sure," he said, trying to be nonchalant about it but the truth was, he hadn't heard from her in two days. "She's been pretty busy."
"I'm sure she'll show," Tom retorted. "If not just to make sure the Old Man don't make a fool out of himself by getting too pissed." He added with a smirk, "oh she might show to see your ugly cakehole too."
"Terribly funny, you think you are," Derick returned, downing half the bottle before he grinned. "Although it would be kind of funny to see the Iron Colonel undone... " he chuckled.
"Him?" Tom snorted. "Never happen. Too much of a tight arse to ever do anything against regs that one. I'll be he went through his career as a poster child as the oldest Boy Scout."
Laughing, Derick shrugged. "I guess so," he said. "You ready to go? Have you seen Ren, by the way? I haven't seen her since this morning."
"Saw her take a swing at Lorio about a dress," Tom replied, remembering the scene when he left the barn. "Other than, not a sound. Probably turn up at the Beasts later. You know how women are, its their prerogative to be late."
"Yeah." Finishing off the water, Derick pitched the bottle into the recycle bin. "You ready to go? We'd better get there before Lorio and Anderson really start getting skunked."
"Oh they're allowed tonight," Tom shrugged. "I mean the whole town is having the equivalent of an all night drink and possible orgy in the streets, why not?"
"Oh, I don't disagree, but with Lorio and Anderson, it's bound to be orgy with anything that moves," Derick chuckled. "And things that aren't necessarily human," he added. "Come on. Let's go."
"Right," Tom nodded, grabbing his card to the apartment before tucking in it his shirt pocket. "Let the revelry begin."
****
Again, the night contained an energy, a pulse that was Gaia's and Derick swore he could almost feel it through his boots as he and Tom made their way to the Centre d'Revelrie; Beast's... a place that had withstood the attack just like that war dog Fabien.
There were people all around the place, milling in and out and Derick and Tom had no problems making through the crowd, stopping to greet people as their names were called out. Once inside, using his height, he easily spotted Sloane's dark head in the crowd and indicated her location to Tom.
"There."
"Shall I bugger off them or you gonna give her a better greeting when she's had a few more and can cope with how ugly you look?" Tom teased.
"Bite me," Derick returned good naturedly, his blue-green eyes lighting up a bit. "You should come over so it doesn't look suspicious. Besides, don't you want to say hi to her?" he teased back. "Or you worried she'll puke on your shoes?"
"She only does that for people she likes," Tom joked. "Better let me lead the way, officer and all." He smirked.
"Yeah, but I'm the Gunny," he retorted, pushing his way easily through the crowd. Drunks tended to get out of the way of someone his size, a fact that Derick had taken advantage of on many occasions. Coming up behind her, he leaned over to Tom and said in a too-loud voice. "How long do you think it'll take before she notices us?"
"Depends if the sound has to swim upstream in her ears," Tom joked taking the chair across McRae's table and grinned. "How you doing McRae," he grinned, genuinely pleased to see her.
"How you doing, McRae?" He grinned, genuinely pleased to see her.
Nearly cheering out loud, Sloane thanked the gods for Merrick's timing. Fabien had had to move on some moments before and with her nose back in her drink that was giving Sloane way too much time to think on things she'd rather not think on ever again.
"Merrick! Glad you could make it to your own pow-wow," Sloane said, clearly showing some frazzled brain cells. "How are you, mate?" she asked, standing up to pull him into a hug over the table and nearly knocking the couple of beer mugs she had gathered there.
Looking above his shoulder, she spotted the gunny and couldn't help the wide grin threatening to split her face open. "Rickman!" she had the sense the bellow, instead of something more personal. "Pull up a pew. It's my round."
Sitting back down heavily into her chair, Sloane's hand went up, fingers indicating the number of drinks required to one of the bartenders until she remembered there was Tom Merrick sitting across from her. "I know you don't want that piss, Merrick, and I don't blame you. What would you like?"
She wasn't slurring her words just yet, but she could no longer hide that glassy look in her eyes.
"Fabien knows my poison," Tom said with a bemused chuckle, having never quite seen McRae so... so... well bloody pissed.
"Right, right..." Sloane nodded emphatically. "He knows mine too." She raised her drink to the owner of the place with a silly grin before looking at Derick once more. In civvies. Relaxed. Easy-going. And handsome, damnit.
Glancing over her shoulder at the Gunny, Tom remarked, "It's good to see you, McRae. How's life on Enterprise and where's the Iron Bastard? I was sure he'd be here for this."
Sloane's gaze shifted back on Merrick at that but her smile didn't falter. Much.
"Heh, me too but I haven't seen him." Sloane was past the point of no return in terms of getting hammered and enjoying the night so she refused to allow any mention of Hayes to burst that bubble.
"It's good to see you too... I hope your lady is doing better. Left her home with Godzilla?" she teased him. Given the woman's injuries, Sloane hadn't anticipated to see her here tonight but she hoped her absence wouldn't prevent Tom from partying a little with his men, if only for a little while. He needed to unwind just as much as everyone else.
“No she’s at Ruby’s with the Fleeters,” Tom answered with a smile, finding it curious that Hayes wasn’t here though. Despite the fact that he couldn’t stand the bastard, Tom did wish to offer him congratulations blowing the Planet Killer to kingdom come.
Taking his seat, Derick watched Sloane for a second, noting the rather glassy look in her eye, when it wasn't gleaming at him. Sloane McRae was well and truly drunk. Schnockered and she wasn't stopping any time soon by the looks of it. Someone caught his attention and Derick returned the greeting with a wave and grinned at Tom. "Not even Godzilla could keep that woman down," he said, catching sight of Gunny Cain and his team.
“True,” Tom said with an affectionate smile. “She’s earned a drink with her Fleet mates, especially since it will be the last time she gets to catch up with them. They gave her desk duty can you believe it? Liaison to the fucking governor no less. She’s spitting chips at having to work for a civilian.
"They did?!" That came out before Tom had finished talking for Sloane could not believe they would reward Styles' bravery by putting her behind a desk but then... "The governor?" The word nearly choked her and Sloane stood up suddenly, nearly taking the table with her. Her hands shot out, one catching her near empty beer and the other righting the table as well as herself.
"I'm gonna go see for those drinks," she excused herself. Why the fuck everywhere she turned people had to ask about goddamn Hayes? And Merrick of all people. If they missed him so much they knew his bloody number, didn't they?! Simmering, Sloane made her way to the bar, finding that Fabien's place was moving just like some boat on a choppy sea. Yep, the floor was definitely tilting and Sloane leaned in counter-balance.
She refreshed the bartender's memory in a friendly manner - after all this was an incredibly busy night - and turned back to eye the table. Merrick.
Tired-looking, probably from worrying too much about his new flame, but in a good mood nonetheless. Good on him, Sloane thought, wishing that she too could just let go. But let's face it, even with the booze it seemed like there was always someone to remind her of Gabe's theatrical departure and rub her face in it. Even Rickman.
Looking at the man and hoping she wasn't too open about it, Sloane noted his blue top and how it brought out his eyes even more. Like he or his twin needed that. Even if Derick hadn't mentioned the Iron Twit everything about him brought Gabe's absence to the fore. Why he didn't want to have anything to do with her anymore, why he wasn't here tonight, why he had quit his job. QUIT his damn job! Sloane hadn't gotten over that one and she didn't think she ever would. But alcohol or not, Sloane knew it wasn't Derick's fault. None of it was. It was hers, and it was Gabe's, and it all followed their choices and actions - or lack of - in the last decade.
Watching her go.. and then return, Derick raised an eyebrow. "You know, Tom," he said, keeping his voice quiet. "I think the Major's had a couple too many," he said, noting with an experienced eye how she was stepping carefully... as if navigating a flat floor had been a sudden challenge. "I should probably go get that tray."
At first he had thought she was having a good time. Christ after storming the planet killer with the Iron bastard, she sure as hell deserved it but there was something nagging at the back of his mind that this wasn’t usual behaviour for McRae. And where was Hayes anyway? When did he ever miss an oppportunity to have a drink with his men, especially after what they had been through the last few weeks. Unfortunately, Tom Merrick was the last
person on God’s green earth to take anyone to task about how much they were drinking tonight.
“Good idea,” Tom agreed, trying to hide his concern and suddenly the question about where Gabe was tonight, began to occupy him more than it should.
"Yep," Derick replied, getting to his feet. Wading through the crowd easily (they parted nicely for him…being a Gunny did that for a man), he met Sloane with a grin and a wink. "Fabien's got his floor on auto-tilt, Major," he said, putting a hand on the tray to take it from her. "Better let us enlisted folks scout it for you," he grinned.
Sloane had spotted him coming her way and had actually stopped walking just to watch him. Amongst all the MACOs in here tonight, and hell there were many, he still stood out. At least to her. She could hear Zeta rock n' rolling a few tables to her left, and there was Brennan and the boys from the NX-01 not too far on her right. She even caught a glimpse of Riley and his crew from the Excelsior. She was glad he seemed to be, for once, along the same wavelength as she was, and that was partying with their brothers in arms. Good. They didn't see eye to eye usually and the last thing she needed was the Major giving her grief about MacHayes or how she had ended up getting the gig on Enterprise as Hayes' 2IC. Tonight, that would have meant going homicidal on the bugger.
But back to Rickman, smart mouth yapping something about her swaying with the music. "What are you implying, Rickman? Or are you just trying to be a gentleman?" Sloane raised an eyebrow, waiting a second for him to choose before her expression turned into a grin and she let him take hold of the tray. "Gentleman it is. Thank you. Here, let me make it easier for you..." With that, she grabbed one of the couple of rounds busy condensing on
the tray and took a healthy gulp. "Santé."
"Cheers," Derick chuckled, one hand going discreetly to Sloane's elbow as she tilted back a bit too far on that drink. This would be funny if it wasn't Sloane. Actually, it would be funny in the morning because while it wasn’t all that fun to be sober amongst a bunch of drunks, it was funny to be the only one NOT hung over the morning after. "Of course, I'm a gentle .. man," he said, lagging the two words on purpose as one eye dropped in a wink.
"Come on. Why don't you sit down before you fall down," he grinned.
"Hey!" Sloane let out, spine straightening up. "I resent that. And why aren't you drinking?" An eyebrow raised, Sloane looked at Derick Rickman up and down, suspiciously. "Not a good enough occasion?" She leaned forward to eye him closer and had to use a hand against his chest to push herself back a bit. Fucking auto-tilt. "Company ain't good enough for you? Or was it my toast?"
She looked beyond the gunny to where Tom was sitting. At least he wasn't judging her. Deflated somewhat, Sloane pouted but figured it would just be easier to break the news to Rickman later if he carried on sapping the fun out of the evening. Yes, she was drinking. More than usual. But so what? It wasn't like he had never indulged.
"Alright then," she started, taking another healthy swig of beer, "let's get back to the table before I fall down and make a bigger ass of myself."
Another discreet hand to her elbow and Derick chuckled. Temper. "Come on now," he said. "Behave or I'll make you run the maggot run," he said, one hand motioning Tom forward off to Sloane's side, where she could see it. He needed some officer intervention before he had to support her and made people curious.
"Yeah, no one wants to see a major puking." Tom stood up, seeing Derick's attentions, and joined them before they reached their table again, taking her arm gently and steering her in the right direction.
"Yo, watch out. I still outrank your collective ass..." Sloane growled, shaking her elbow out of Derick's hold before she smiled sweetly at him and Tom. A deadly, sweet smile, thinking on what she could have them both do if they didn't cut this shit out. What the hell was going on? Since when did she need babysitting? She wasn't that drunk. Yet.
"And I can still beat you at pool," she let out to Rickman though it was also applicable to Merrick. "Want another round?"
Looking over to the pool tables not far from the favourite MacHayes table Fabien had reserved for her and that she now shared with two guys acting uncannily like two of her dead brothers, Sloane eyed one in particular with some longing. Hell, she'd sober up just to beat the gunny again. Fun. Innocent (at the time). Before the shit had hit the fan in a major way .
"What? Pool?" Derick's raised an eyebrow, remembering the now legendary game and.. everything else afterwards. He wouldn't mind a game but something told him that it wasn't such a good idea...but with Tom being there, he figured tongues wouldn't waggle. Plus it might keep Sloane out of trouble. "Sure," he said, nodding to Tom. "You breaking?"
"I'll watch," Tom retorted joining them, a smarmy expression creeping over his face as he decided to stop worrying about McKeg and get on with the business of having some fun tonight. "Christ knows what happens whenever you two get near a pool table." He couldn't help tease in hearing of the duo only.
Fairly sloshed or not, Sloane caught that and her eyes flashed in agreement to Tom while she grinned something short of an idiot. When she got to the table, she was about to tell the two MACO youngsters playing pool to step back and let her and the gunny have a go at it but she never got a chance. Whether it was on her account or the two men's next to her she would never know and frankly she didn't care. Bottom line was the boys offered her
the table before she could utter a word while they slid their cues on the green velvet and went back to their drinks nearby, their eyes riveted to the Major and the Gunny. Okay, well, maybe some were looking for an encore...
Grabbing the longest cue, she threw it to Derick. If unhappy with it, he could always go change it for another from the lot on the wall. Taking the other for herself, Sloane felt its weight before she eyed down its length for straightness, missing any irony in that given her state. She still swayed some and her movements were definitely more sluggish than usual but when she gathered the balls and set them her hands were skilled and steady. Most
likely because those hands could do this while she slept.
About to go at the other end of the table to break, Sloane turned to ask, "So, Gunny, will I see you execute a Derelict Combo tonight or will you quiver like last time?" It was a gentle tease , one that went along with how they had played each other that first and only time.
Thing was, Sloane's booze-addled brain didn't remember she was holding her cue - or at least that she was holding it horizontally - when she turned. The wooden cue did a near 270 around her as she turned, making people duck and pull each other down as it went, saving some of their drinks while most hit the deck in the Major's sweeping movement.
"Ooops," Sloane let out with a wide smile, what she'd just done barely registering.
MACO training allowed him to avoid being one of those risking losing an eye by being in the path of McRae's errant cue stick. Ducking carefully as the stick passed over head, Tom straightened up and grabbed a hold of the chalked end before McRae hit anyone else with it. "Alright, Sloane." Tom chuckled, putting down his glass. He almost never called her that, it was always Major or McRae but the occasion seemed to demand it. "I think we'll head back to the table. Fabien's not going to be happy if you poke someone's eye out with that thing or assault them with an eight ball."
Looking over her shoulder, Tom met Derick's gaze. "Please... please tell me I was not this well coordinated when I was on the piss up?"
Derick offered a kind of nod and a shrug at once, unwilling to lie to his friend but also not wanting to part with the truth.
"I, I... alright," Sloane grumbled sheepishly after she spared a bleary eye to the mess around her and to the brave souls sticking their heads back up and righting themselves back in their seats. "Yikes."
Sloane pouted to Derick, an apology of sorts for not delivering on the game, and laced her arm with Merrick's, ready to leave the whole idea of pool behind her. "That means I can't fly either?" she joked, not about to question any longer how inebriated she really was.
"No," Derick chuckled, pretty sure she was flying already. "I'll take a raincheck on the game," he said, one hand waving people out of their way from behind Sloane.
"Aw, see how your gunny's breathing easier now that he ain't got to play?"
Sloane nudged Tom. But while she poked fun at Tom's friend, her hand reached for Derick surreptitiously, squeezing his forearm in a sign of affection she would have never risked in a public place had she not been drunk. Letting go, she carried on with her smart mouth.
"When you're too wasted to play pool, there's only one option left..." Sloane plunked her ass down in her chair. "Get wasted enough for bed." She giggled. "Am I right, Merrick? That or wasted enough to beat the shit out of your CO," she cracked as an afterthought, her eyes sparkling at the idea but not really telling if she was only referring to one of Tom's old past times or something she'd love to take up herself.
"Now, which one's my drink?"
"I don't know whether I should give you this," Tom teased as he handed her the mug. "And I didn't beat the shit out of him, I took a swing and missed before landing on my arse, in my own puke. When I fuck up... I do it well." He grinned.
"Don't forget Dr. Quinn's boots," Derick added, taking the seat on the other side of Sloane. "Now he did beat the shit out of that guy. I know, I was there." Hell. He'd helped. "So was that Romulan Ale you came in with?" he chuckled, his hand going out automatically when she leaned back... on auto-tilt. "But if you're talking about me, I only tried to kick Tom's ass once but I wasn't drunk," he grinned.
"Yeah he was jealous of my winning personality," Tom retorted with a smirk as he took another swig of his non-alcoholic drink and wished that he'd trusted himself to take one (though he knew better), before adding, "it's a terrible burden."
Sloane tried to follow the exchange between Tom and Derick and it made her head spin. Beat the shit out of what guy? Bedroom-Eyes Quinn? She couldn't see Tom going after a doctor - even piss drunk. In the end, with a perplexed look on her face, Sloane only accepted to comment on the ale.
"Yeah, I think that's what it was... had some kick. Pretty bottle." She had lost that bottle somewhere between the queue outside and sitting down with Fabien. Or maybe it was near the pool tables. Her eyes looked around the tavern before they went front again and found the mug of beer given to her by Tom. "But this'll do just fine." She took a big gulp to prove that statement.
"Bottoms up," Tom grinned, glad to see her enjoying herself and letting her hair down. He'd do the same but for obvious reasons (that had nothing to do with his lack of hair thank you), he was kept from enjoying the party in the same way. Instead he contented himself with his non-alcoholic drink and tried not to be tempted by all the alcohol around him. "Another round?" He looked to both McRae and Derick.
"Sure," Derick grinned to Tom with a nod. "Especially since the Major here hogged all the Romulan ale," he teased. Then again, the last time Derick had run into a bottle of Romulan ale, he'd ended up with a serious hangover and NO clue about where he was. And he'd gotten so sick.. threw up even the memory of food.
"Didn't," Sloane slurred a bit after giving a nod to Tom and downing the rest of her beer. It had been a gift from not-so-young-anymore Bryce. And a fine gift it had been, she thought, remembering the particular taste of the blue brew.
"I'm going to have to pay my respects to Gunny Cain here in a minute," Derick said, chuckling as Cain's boys finished off another round.
"'Kay," Sloane said, throwing a glance MacDanniels' way. He, Cain and the rest of Zeta were sprawled over a couple tables, executing some team building exercises like making shot glasses or beer pitchers towers, and seemed to be having a good time of it. Good on them.
Returning her attention on Tom and booze, she smiled, a bit lopsided. "Want me to go get it?" she asked, speaking of the another round Tom was suggesting.
Tom laughed and motioned for her to stay where she was. "I'll get it," he grinned. "It's my party, remember?" He motioned at Fabien for another round at their table before turning back to McRae and Derick, "So what shall we drink to next?"
Oh, well, Asshole Hayes came to mind and Sloane nearly cracked up at her own joke. Like the bugger deserved a bloody toast...
"What have we drunk to so far?" she asked, actually not quite remembering.
Who could blame her? Between all the beer and the tequila chasers (eew, what a mix!), she was bound to lose track a bit.
Leaving his girl in very capable hands, Derick rose from his seat, agile for someone his size in a crowd packed this tight. Downing the rest of his drink, he set the glass on the table and gave it a push towards Tom. "I'll be right back and try not to drool in my beer," he warned jokingly and turned around...
... right into Hell. And her sister.
"I told you we would find him, Sister!" The blond on the left, preternaturally identical to the blond on the right clapped her hands together in glee in front of her bosom, which according to her shirt should be shown off. Amply. Right under the glittering 'C' that drew his attention towards them. Like they
needed any help.
The other blonde smiled happily, tottering forward on her heels, a bold 'B' emblazoned across her equally as ample chest. "Yes, you did, Sister. Our favourite MACO. We have.."
"... a new tattoo, just for our boys of the Sharks!"
As usual, anything he had to say was sucked into the unknown by the vacuum created when these two spoke in tandem like that and since he was sober, it gave Derick the creeps. Why had he... oh yeah. Twins and he'd been royally drunk off his ass. "Brandi..." he started.
"She's Brandi and I'm Candi. See?" She tapped the glittery 'C' on her chest and giggled once more, shaking back her cascade of blonde curls over her shoulders and went to her tip toes, swakking Derick's cheek.
"Right.. Candi," Derick began, knees bending automatically as he was hit on the other side, in a classic Candi/Brandi double assault. Of course, a number of things dawned on him all at once and not the least of which was Sloane's direct position to the Twins. Shit. He'd forgotten that the two of them really only made sense when he was bombed.
"Oh Sister! It's our other favourite MACO!" Brandi tappi-tappi-tappied forward to Tom's side, planting a kiss on his shaved (*coughbaldcough*) forehead, leaving a perfectly formed, Deep Cinnamon Fire smooch. Beside her, Candi batted her eyes at Derick and then skittered forward to leave a matching Deep Cinnamon Fire smooch on the Captain. "We've missed you, Captain Tom!" the girls said in unison.
"We missed both..."
"... our boys!" the other one finished with a sigh. Giggling again, they both waggled their fingers at Sloane. "You have such.."
"..lovely hair!"
Tom had never believed in god but tonight the Almighty had definitely proved his existence in the Captain's belief.
Only God could be this cruel.
While `Captain Tom' found this very amusing, he was also rather concerned about the lipstick he was going to have to explain to Alex, not to mention, the fact that once upon a time, he had been letch enough to bang two girls who now, without the benefit of beer coloured glasses, looked young enough to be prepubescent.
However, he took great comfort in knowing that while he was suffering a little indignity, it was Derick on the hot seat. All one needed really was the beer nut and a bottle of Red Eye and you could sell tickets to this.
"Uh let's leave the Major alone, ladies," Tom tried to steer them away from Sloane whose patience with women like this would be about absolute zero at this point.
Ignoring B's and C's compliment, Sloane's eyes left the twins and settled on Merrick, who, funnily enough, was turning a light shade of pink that suited the o so lovely bullseye of lipstick left on his forehead.
"Captain Tom," Sloane repeated, picking her jaw off the floor. She was tanked now, but man, she was nowhere near as tanked as these two idiot MACOs must have been to shack up with these two... these two... shit, words failed her.
"Look everybody!" Jackson's voice was burly and loud, "Drinks around for every MACO near me! And a round of shots for all these Planet Killer heroes.... including the Major across the way!"
Well thank god for that. Before shock and, yeah, a little disdain could show at the fact that Merrick and his pal Rickman could sink so low, Sloane turned a smile to Pollack Jackson over at the bar and nodded a thank you.
The shot came her way quickly and, after raising it, she downed it just as quick. She needed to if she was going to be able to deal with that new reality in front of her without dying laughing.
Oh, Derick Rickman... after seeing the kind you fall for, what can you possibly find in me? And she would have asked him out loud too but she cracked up and began to giggle. "Our favourite MACOs... tattoos," she muttered to herself as tears of laughter threatened to spill. "Mwah, mwah!"
Averting her eyes from the Gunny and his captain, she placed the empty shot glass down and found staring at her beer to be probably safer. To think she had actually wondered if she could compete with the following of a lady's man such as Rickman. Pfftt!
And another fit of giggles ensued.
Giving Sloane a look that said both 'I can explain this' and 'what the hell are you laughing at?', Derick returned his attention back to the twins. The lipstick on Tom's forehead was a nice touch in this.. really weird situation.
"Now ladies," he began as Candi and Brandi giggled and flirted with everything male in the room. "I don't think the Captain's new girl is going to take well to seeing that lipstick on him like that," he chuckled. Creepy when one was sober they were, but they were basically sweet girls without a mean bone between them.
Now how would Styles would react to that was something Sloane would pay good money to see.
"New girl!!" Candi exclaimed, immediately retreating to her purse.
Sloane rolled her eyes. How was the girl going to squeal if Derick mentioned anything about himself?
"Captain Tom, you've gone serious on us!" Brandi replied, not the least bit put out by the news that Tom Merrick was taken.
Beside her, Candi produced a tissue from her purse and commenced to rubbing the lipstick off Tom's skin. "Can't have him going back..."
"Looking like he was smooched on," Brandi finished for her, turning to Derick.
"Well, that means more for you!" she giggled, eyelashes batting a mile a minute as her hands vacuumed onto his arm.
Oh, that should be good... Sloane's gaze settled on Derick's face. She had to see this.
"Actually..." Derick affected a rather hang dog look.
"No!" Copping a rather indecent pout, Brandi sighed. "Now that's just not right... who is she?"
"Do we know her?" Candi asked from her pat-rub-blot of Tom's head.
Makes me feel like the home wrecker, Sloane thought sarcastically and nearly said something but she wanted to see how Don Juan Rickman was going to get out of this one.
"No.." Derick shook his head. God, he hoped not. "No, I don't think you do. So you two were okay during the attack?" he asked, segueing rather nicely he thought away from the topic of who the mystery woman was. "What about your mom?"
"Mother is fine..."
"We were all evacuated early on," Brandi finished, squeezing his arm. "Were you hurt?"
"Nothing but a few scrapes," Derick replied as Candi tucked her tissue back in her purse.
Smirking, Sloane almost felt bad for being there. Surely he would have milked this one if she wasn't.
"There, Captain Tom, all done!" she giggled.
"Thank you," Tom replied with a bemused smile, grateful that neither sister had been too upset with being told that their former playmates had now someone else's stamp of ownership. Trying not to meet McRae's gaze because it would only show just how embarrassed he was by his earlier drunken antics to bed someone like Candi, Tom regarded the twin. "And how's things at work?" He asked them, taking some of the pressure of Derick, who had to be sweltering like a snowman in the Sahara with McRae present for this display of old time mischief.
Candi waved one hand, the light reflecting off perfect nails, painted to match the Deep Cinnamon Fire of their lips. "Work is work!" she giggled. "Things picked right up once we got everything cleaned up! Brandi broke a nail though," she said, eyebrows canting together in concern for her twin as the other girl held out her hand.
"I did, right down to the quick!" Brandi said, brandishing the aforementioned injured finger.
Derick, who didn't go much for breaking nails and all that winced in sympathy for them. "Ouch," he offered, giving Brandi's finger an obligatory look as he reclaimed his seat.
"Ouch is right. Hurt like heck!" Brandi replied, sighing oh-so-pitiful.
I am not hearing this, Sloane's internal reactionary monologue continued. If the pair of them wasn't so damn funny, she would cry. Suspension of disbelief could only go so far and right now the major was on the edge of a deep, dark pit, and ready to jump to escape the tarts. 'Ouch' for a nail. Sloane wondered what dear Brandi would come up with if she'd got shot in the gut or nearly lost an arm.
Fuck. Back to Hayes. Sloane looked at her beer critically, wondering if Fabien had watered it down too much. Even blotto, no matter what, it was always back to Hayes.
"OH! Sister! Don't forget! Our plan!" Brandi said, her other hand bobbing up and down dangerously off the end of her arm as she motioned to her sister.
Candi's eyes went wide as she gave a girlie, very girlie gasp and covered her mouth. "Oh how could I forget! Captain Tom, Derick... Brandi and I have a plan! We were looking around at everything after the attack..."
".. and everyone was so sad..."
"...so we decided to apply to open a bakery!!" Candi finished, shoulders going up and down as she giggled. "I wanted to name it B & C Bakery but..."
"..I wouldn't have that! I wanted C & B Bakery but Candi didn't like that so..."
"... we decided on Mandi's Bakery, for our little sister!" Giggling again, Candi smiled, pleased with herself and her sister. "What do you think?" she asked, smiling at both men.
A bakery? The idea of the twins around anything that involved creation of something for human consumption was a bit... worrying but Derick smiled and nodded. "I like it," he replied. "Captain Tom?" he said, turning a rather snarky grin on his friend as his legs stretched out under the table, purposely coming into contact with Sloane's.
Sloane nearly recoiled. Do I know you? Her eyes couldn't hide her bewilderment as she reached for her beer.
"Top idea," Tom replied, genuine in his encouragement. They were kind of sweet, even if they weren't playing with a full deck or in this case, a full baker's dozen. Unable to imagine what McRae must be thinking about Derick, Tom thanked all the gods that Alex was at her Fleet party.
Giving Tom a glance about as vacant as the space inside the two girls' skulls, Sloane cringed and looked away, towards the bar and the alcohol behind it, like it was the last vestige of tangible sense in this warped reality Merrick and Rickman seemed too happy to immerse themselves in. Maybe tits and ass were their version of McRae's grog for escapism but bloody hell if she did the same she'd need even more booze to make sure she didn't
remember any of it come morning.
McRae's look was enough to make him flinch to say what would happen if Alex was present for this. "How's the Lil' Bit anyway?" Tom asked, using his nickname for the never seen Mandi.
Slicing her hand through the air again, Candi giggled yet again. "She's perfect! We're so proud of her!" she said. "Tell them!" she begged of her twin, who covered her mouth as she tittered.
"Mandi's been accepted to the Vulcan Medical Academy!" Brandi exclaimed, her whole body nearly shaking with excitement. "And she's only.."
".. fifteen!" Candi finished, her hands going pat-pat-pat together as she nearly squealed. "She's going to be the.. "
"..best doctor.."
"..in the galaxy!"
"That's great news," Derick replied, wondering how in hell he'd listened to them before without his head exploding. Maybe it had been all the alcohol he'd consumed back then. He'd forgotten that Mandi, amazingly enough, was bordering on genius level IQ, if she wasn't genius already. Talk about distribution of genes...
"Anyway. Since you two have plans, we're going to go say hey to our uncle!" Candi said, giggling as she leaned forward, giving Tom something that approximated a hug into her bosom.
Uncle? Derick raised an eyebrow at Tom. Uncle?
"Oh, that's right, Sister!" Brandi replied, giving Tom another one of those to-the-boobs hug before putting another kiss on Derick's cheek. This time, she was careful to wipe off the lipstick. "Can't have you two looking like you've been smooched on!"
"Definitely not!" Candi said, taking her turn on Derick's other cheek and her fingers swip-swipping at the Dark Cinnamon Fire on his tanned skin.
"Okay, remember to come to our bakery when we open it!"
"We'll give you a discount!" That was.. Candi, who wiggled her fingers at the Major again. "You too, Major!" she said. "We still say you have.. "
"...lovely hair! After you, Sister..."
As they tap-tap-tappied away, Derick almost breathed a visible sigh of relief and found he couldn't look up at Sloane. Not really. Okay, not without feeling his cheeks turn a colour he was sure they hadn't turned since he was 12.
"Uncle Corney!!" The twin's call out in unison made Derick look up because if they were finding their uncle here. Easily spotting the twins because of the combined mass of hair, Derick nearly dropped his beer when he saw the girls close in on Gunnery Sergeant Cain.
As in.. Cornelius Cain. Gunnery Sergeant Cain, one of the few men on this planet... in the galaxy Derick knew better than to fuck with.
"Oh fuck..." he muttered, eyes closing because on top of Sloane being here and the twins showing up... they were apparently related to...
"Uncle Corney!! Pop said you must.."
".. come to dinner tomorrow! We're celebrating!"
"Oh," Tom said with a completely shit eating grin that wasn't just for McRae 's presence during this whole affair but also because he had just remembered that this particular morsel had been something he was saving to spring on Derick for quite some time now. Tom had been saving it for a good occasion to inform Derick just who his favourite groupie was related to but with McRae in the picture, it no longer seemed as funny.
How wrong had he been.
"Did I forget to tell you that Cain was their uncle? Bugger," Tom turned back to his club soda (why should he suffer alone) with a grin. "Must have slipped my mind. Sorry." He threw McRae a wink.
All that kissing and patting and boob-mashing... no wonder MACO meatheads would go for those cutie blond dolls. But Merrick and Rickman? Proof that anything was possible. But despite that, McRae, having found not an ounce in those two girls to be jealous of, could no longer hold it in. Her laughter bubbled over and she sprayed her beer on the table. After a minute or two, trying to catch her breath, Sloane was shaking her head,
savouring the expression on Derick's face.
"I... I can't... I can't believe... fuck me, you two... you two got a death wish the size of the bloody Expanse," she whizzed out in between more fits of laughter. "Banging Cain's nieces?!" And off she went, in stitches again, her hand trying to wipe tears streaming down her cheeks while her arm was wrapped around her middle.
Giving Tom a look that only he, Derick Rickman, could get away with because Tom was his friend as well as his ranking officer, he glanced over his shoulder to where Cain was chatting with Brandi and Candi.
There were few men that Derick, built like a brick outhouse, wouldn't mess with... pretty much if it stood in his way, he found a way to get past. Whether it was around or through. But Cain made the do-not-fly list with Derick, not only because he was fairly positive Cain could whoop his ass (Cain has been in the MACO's so long, he was Jesus' drill instructor) but he respected the man.
Now, enough over that and that itchy feeling in his collar. Derick turned to Sloane, one eyebrow raised as he studied her. "I'm glad you find it so amusing," he said dryly, finishing off the rest of his beer in a single draw and reaching for hers.
"Yo! Hands off!" Sloane swatted his hand away, still laughing like a lark.
"I am a complicated lad," Tom grinned, drinking his non-alcoholic beverage. "Now that I'm on the wagon, I've got to amuse myself in ways that don't involve booze." He threw Derick a grin. "It was either this or smoking."
Well, Tom was not helping her guffaws to stop at all.
Laughing, he glanced at McRae and added, "And messing him about is a lot less damaging to my health than cigarettes. Besides, Candi and Brandi aren't too bad when you're drunk and have no idea what they're saying. And I only ever had one of them at a time."
He gave McRae a look that said 'twins' in all its sordid glory.
Good god. If Cain heard that Sloane would be going to one bloody 'twin' funeral, twas for sure. Tom and Derick, in bits, in one casket because the guys down at the morgue wouldn't be able to sort out which bit went to whom.
Shaking her head, Sloane managed to calm the laughter down a bit and get her breath back enough to take a long, long pull on her beer. What was it exactly with men and blondes and twin blondes? A glance at Derick and she could still see Candi all over him... or was it Brandi? Did it matter?
Sloane's index finger traced a line in the condensation the beer bottle was leaving on the table. "So... you two sorta banged them together?" she teased. She knew Tom and Derick were close but she certainly had not pictured them that close... as in sharing twins, four-in-a-bed close. Bloody hell, that so wasn't an image she wanted burned on her brain.
“Ugh Christ no,” Tom said quickly. “Sharing communal showers is the closest I want to be to bloody well seeing the big guy’s arse. No, no, I once picked up the pieces after he had two of them. Stupid bugger almost went AWOL if I hadn’t found him in the hotel, half dead from fucking and a hangover. Took two hours in a cold shower just to get the smile of his face.”
The thought made Tom’s eye twitch.
"You know, don't let me stop you tonight. I got plenty more friends at the bar..." Sloane slurred to the both of them, talking about the hundred bottle of beers on the wall.