A/N: In my house, July 4th means putting the TV on the endless back-to-back Independence Day marathon on whichever channel and watching it again
and again
and again
and again.
And thus this was born. Steve and Dave are total bros and they started babbling at each other in my head.
YES I KNOW IT WAS RELEASED LIKE 21 YEARS AGO SHUT UP
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Achievement Unlocked
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Surprisingly, Steve and Dave both were conscious for much of their tumbling, sarcasm-laden descent back to Earth. Steve did his best to steer them approximately toward their start point at Area 51, but it was extremely difficult. Dave continued side-seat driving.
"Aim for Southern Nevada, not the Southern Atlantic!"
"What you think I'm trying to do?!"
Dave spoke more quickly that it seemed he should be able to in one breath. "Ocean would probably be a safer landing but I'd prefer to land where our welcome party knows to expect us instead of sinking to our watery graves while everyone at the base is-"
"I said, What you think I'm trying to do?!" Steve wrenched the controls and tried to change their angle. He roared in frustration. "You forget the power steering fluid again, Dave?!"
"Pretty sure it's actually the battery, honey!"
"Mechanic said the battery was fine!"
"We just nuked the battery, Steve!"
"Well, shit."
It had been... tense. Tense was a good word.
The final crash must have knocked them both out because they woke to stillness and the scent of acrid smoke. Both blearily looked around the dim cabin. It was remarkably in one piece.
David rubbed his head. "We're alive. How?"
"Don't really care," Steve said as he cracked his neck a couple times.
"No, seriously. We killed our own shields with the virus. How are we alive?"
"I really don't care, man." Steve turned this way and that. "Where's my cigar?" He struggled with his harness. They had come to rest with a forward tilt, so his entire weight against the straps made it harder to handle. "Dammit."
Dave patted his own harness reverently. "Seat belts save lives."
"You have fun with your little PSA. I'm out." Steve finally released his harness and promptly fell into the steering devices with a roar of startled pain. "Son of a bitch!"
Dave chuckled darkly.
Turning and pointing a threatening finger at Dave, Steve mimicked an angry father and said, "Don't you start. I'll let you hang there in time out, young man."
Dave laughed more obnoxiously.
Steve scrambled along the console and grabbed for Dave's harness. Easier from the outside, he released it in short order. Dave tumbled onto the console.
"Ow, dammit!"
Steve cackled gleefully as his partner squirmed around and fell to the deck. His expression combined an ecstatic smile with an intense baring of teeth by a thrill-seeker. "Let's ride it again, Pops!"
"No, son. No. Dad's too old for these rides." Dave was grinning, though.
Steve scaled the pilot's seat and squinted into corners. "Where'd my victory dance go?"
"This is why you're not supposed to smoke and drive, Dad."
"The hell, man? Which of us is the dad and which of us is the kid?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Sure don't, Pops." Steve did a double-take. "Where'd you find that?!"
A satisfied smirk played across Dave's face as he wiggled his own cigar in the air. "I put it out and jammed it somewhere safe when the ride got rough."
"When you have time for that between all your screaming?!"
"Screaming doesn't require hands, Steve." Dave grinned at Steve's pout then gestured around them with his cigar. "Might help if we open the hatch and get some smoke out and light in."
"Okay, genius."
Bitching at each other the whole time but equally certain they'd probably cheerfully bitch at each other the rest of their lives, they set about popping the lid of their tin can from outer space, finding Steve's cigar, and extricating themselves from the smoldering wreckage. They sprawled on their backs on it for a moment, just staring at the sky and breathing. Didn't look anywhere but up at the meteor shower they had created.
"Adrenaline is a bitch," Dave finally said.
Steve only laughed. "Right, time to light up." He sat up, inspected his cigar, brushed it off, and vaulted off the side of the ship.
Dave followed with several magnitudes less grace and staggered. "Where's the lighter?"
"Right damn here, my friend." Steve swaggered up to the portion of the wreckage spouting open flame, held his cigar out cautiously until its tip ignited, then pulled it back and took a drag on it. He blew out the smoke and looked back at Dave with a shit-eating grin.
"Well, that works."
After lighting up, they stared at each other and started chuckling. Their hilarity gradually escalated until they laughed uncontrollably for God only knew how long, tears streaming down their faces as their laughter got wheezy and strained. Every time they settled, they looked at one another and started all over again.
Finally, Dave held his cigar up like he was toasting with a champagne flute. "Cheers."
Laughing, Steve replied, "To the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
They tapped cigars, laughed, and finally looked around. There were two major things to notice: Scorching, godforsaken, beautiful Nevada desert; and in the distance, an entire mountain range on fire with a City Destroyer wedged in it like a frisbee in sand.
Dave whistled. "Well, I'll be damned. You got us somewhere in the general vicinity of where we wanted to go."
Steve preened and took a long drag on his cigar, entirely too pleased with himself.
"You still crashed, though," Dave teased just for the hell of it.
Steve scowled playfully and stabbed his cigar toward his new friend. "There's a difference between a crash and a hard landing, son." He chomped his cigar and turned his nose up snobbily. "Hard landing's an accomplishment." They stayed serious for all of a moment before laughing more.
They stood and appreciated the scenery for awhile, content to just wait for their brains to realize they could stop screaming with adrenaline the way they had been for days. Though it felt like weeks. Then there was a muted boom from their ship. Both stared at the thing with vague interest at best.
"We should probably get away from that," Steve muttered around his cigar.
"I'm gonna go with yes, I agree," Dave said. "Where should we head? Without stars to navigate more precise- hell, where are we? What's our starting point? Where's Area 51 relative to us?"
"Not a damn clue." Steve squinted around the barren flats as something in the wreckage shifted with a whump and sent up a plume of flame. "Let's just mosey on away."
"Away is good, yes."
They strutted away into the desert, nonchalant, not a care in the goddamn world. They felt invincible. Steve had flown in outer space. Dave had saved the planet. Life goals reached in a single stroke.
It felt damn good.
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A/N: Why does my brain do these things?
I need to see the sequel. I don't care if it was critically panned. ID4 was my first big summer scifi blockbuster and I love it.