Dexter Grif is gonna fucking die.
He's waiting on his flight out to wherever the fuck they put their shiny new cannon-fodder, he's wearing an actual honest-to-god uniform, and he's got a duffel he's half-filled with Oreos, which seemed like a really funny thing to do last night when he was blackout drunk, but now it just seems kind of sad and pathetic. He's starting to think maybe he should've packed some underwear instead.
He's waiting for a flight and he's fucking alone and he's gonna fucking die.
Like, there's no shortage of dumbasses volunteering to fight in this war. Dex's friends have been lining up since day one, fuck yeah, rah-rah, beat the aliens or whatever the fuck. But see, he's always had his contingencies planned out: just hole up in his apartment, maybe make a run for Alaska if things get really bad. Hell, if all else fails, the new alien overlords have got to have faster internet connections. Great plan, right?
Yeah, except for the whole one-man-draft thing, because some fucker in accounting or whatever liked nice round numbers and they needed one more spectacular dumbass to add to their collection. Dex has never been particularly lucky, but getting picked in that lottery was a new fucking low.
His hands are shaking with the caffeine buzz and the last dregs of a hangover and he wants a smoke so bad he can taste it, but he's been given orders. Smoking in uniform looks bad, the recruiting officer said, and Dex is kinda regretting not telling him where he could shove his uniform-
"Dex!"
He half-turns in time to get tackled into the wall, and his first panicked thought is, Oh fuck the war's here already, and then he catches a whiff of too-strong perfume and sighs, catching his balance. "Hey, Kai."
She's clinging to him the way she used to when they were kids, latching her arms around his chest and twisting her legs around his so he can only get around using the world's most undignified hobbling gait. He offers a pained smile to the guy working the terminal next to them, but is distracted when Kai hauls back and punches him in the chest. Hard. "You weren't gonna tell us?"
He's not sure how to explain that this is the first time he's been sober since he got his orders, so he just sort of sways with the blow-she's way stronger than she looks. "Fuck. Ow. I would've sent you a letter." He blinks. "How'd you get here, anyway?"
She rolls her eyes. "Found out from your recruiting officer. He gave me a ride into town this morning." She grins a little, and he groans internally, because that smile can only lead to words that require grade-A brain bleach. "He also gave me a ride last night."
"Kai-"
"Four times. Well, like, three and a half, but it was close enough that I'm totally counting it."
"Oh god, I really didn't need to know that." He takes a step back and nearly overbalances again. "You gonna let go of me?"
"Mom's pretty mad," Kai says instead, resting her chin against his chest and staring up at him with her playing-dumb expression. At least he thinks it's her playing-dumb expression. It's hard to tell with her. "You know how she gets."
Dex tries to shrug casually, despite the insurmountable force of sister-cling. "Hey, I'm pretty mad, too. Wasn't my idea."
Her eyes narrow. "Going without saying goodbye sure was."
"Hey, fuck you."
Kai punches him again, then sighs and disentangles herself, leaving him to rub the fresh bruise on his chest. "I could come with you."
"No," Dex says, a bit louder than he means to. The guy at the terminal glances over again, curiously, so Dex throws out another pained smile and lowers his voice to a whisper. "Don't be an idiot."
Her voice sharpens. "I'm not an idiot. And I'd be a way better soldier than you, admit it. You can't make it across a food court without breathing heavy. I lifted three cheerleaders over my head with one arm."
"You were cheering for the wrong team."
"Yeah, but they were, like, really fucking motivated after that. Besides, all those buff guys and chicks in armor just dicking around with nothing to do all day? Jackpot."
Dex sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Kai, I really don't have time for this."
She grins. "Admit it. Admit I'd be a better soldier than you."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you'd be a better soldier than me. You punch really fucking hard. But, c'mon, a traffic cone would be a better soldier than me."
"Yeah." Kai looks away for a second, then looks back with a grin that's maybe not quite as bright. It's hard to tell with her. "So go out there and be the best traffic cone you can be. Maybe they'll send you back here."
He pulls out an unlit cigarette, taps it to his lips to hide his smile. "Yeah, 'cause that'll happen. Stay safe, Kai."
She winks. "No promises. Try not to get, like, totally eviscerated by some kickass alien or something."
"Uh-huh," he says. "Thanks for that."
She sighs, says, "Bye, dumbass," elbows him in the ribs hard enough to make him double over, then stalks out of the room without looking back.
He watches her go, then lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. The guy at the terminal is staring over at him with a disapproving grimace. Dex smirks. "Hey, dude, join the fuckin' army or something. Best and brightest right here."
The guy actually scoffs in disgust, and Dex's grin widens because fuck it, maybe Kai's traffic-cone advice isn't so bad after all. So maybe she's fallen through the ice, crashed her first car in a spectacular fireball, but she's always come out of it fine. Sometimes pregnant, but fine. She's the queen of survival against all odds.
And if she can do that, hell, maybe he can make it through this war alive after all.