Disclaimer: We know about all the legal crap.

Direct Thanks: To Ovo for the Underground idea (I do think I have the right author). She has a great grasp on the character side of FF:TSW, and inspired me to give this a shot.

Author's Note: I've always wanted to write this ever since I thought up Eri's hotheaded character. This story takes place in the same timeline as "Convergent Paths". I was thinking of some way to incorporate it into the main story but then decided to write it as a stand-alone piece.

Double Date, Pt. 1

Two figures, one hesitant, the other determined, crept furtively down a hallway. The lights overhead weren't the brightest–some of them flickered, others burned out completely–but the two could have still been spotted by anyone. Abruptly, the shorter of the two stopped and listed, and then the next second dragged the taller one behind the nearest column. Suitable concealment now found, a greenish-blue eye and a dark blue one several inches above peeked from around an edge, watching from the concealing shadows as three USMF personnel made their way up the corridor and turned left around the next bend.

"She's gonna' kill us!"

A cross reply hissed: "Shut up! Her Nibs ain't gonna' do a damn thing!"

Now the first voice held a trace of irritation. "I don't like sneaking around like this. What if we get caught?"

Eri looked back at him, impatiently. "We're not going to get caught, Tyler. Now, I guarantee those guys were heading straight to that place I was talking about." She paused, fixed him with an intent gaze. "And anyway, I didn't hear any complaints when I asked if you wanted to tag along, did I? So quit your bitching."

His face flushed. "Well…I still think that this is a bad idea," he muttered. "Couldn't we have just asked someone?"

"I didn't feel like asking." Another look revealed a vacant corridor. "Move out, flyboy." She grabbed his arm and they darted for the next column ahead, stopping beside some janitorial equipment. It was only yesterday that the scant amount of alien alloy was recovered from the Arizona desert, and Dr. Sid's hastily assembled research team was busy trying to finalize the psi-shield design for the Deep Eyes (what the hell kind of name was that for a military unit anyway? Strangest crap she had ever heard). But so far, there was nothing from surveillance, no further UFO sightings…nada.

Things were actually starting to get boring. Imagine that!

Oh, sure, Cheyenne had doled out leave time on a rotating basis, but to Eri it seemed never to be quite enough. She feared that her efforts to locate that club, lounge, or whatever it was, were in vain…the exact location must have been more closely guarded than she thought.

But perseverance paid off, for to her ears came the first faint thumps of music. The unmistakable odors of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and other less identifiable (and probably illicit) began to get stronger. It smelled like the world's biggest dive, and it was very close. She grinned triumphantly at Tyler, peered around the column but suddenly pulled back. "Ah, shit." She had gotten a glimpse of the last of the three men slipping behind a door at the end of the corridor, but standing right by that entrance was a bouncer. But was she really surprised?

"There's a guard there, but hear that? This has got to be the place!"

"Yeah. So okay, now we know where it is. Let's get out of here–"

Eri made a rude noise. "You're such a worry-wart, Atwood, I swear. You'll get back in time for your milk and cookies, okay? If I can only convince him to let us in…"

"Hey, now wait a second. You said nothing about going in there," he said peevishly, almost whining. "What if­–"

She sighed. There was only one way to shut him up. She stood on tiptoe and planted a quick but firm kiss square on his mouth. When she pulled back it appeared that her tactic had worked because now he had a puppy-dog face. Guys are such suckers. "Now shut your gob and let me figure out how to handle this," she said, all business again.

Shocked, Tyler leaned against the wall. But he failed to notice the mop beside him and his shoulder bumped it. He grasped reflexively but missed. It slid down in an arc and struck a container next to it. If it had hit the floor the noise would have been noticeable enough, but Mr. Murphy decided to make a guest appearance and demonstrate his infamous law: the container in question was a plastic garbage can, sitting half-on, half-off its wheeled base. It was filled almost to overflowing with empty beer cans and as it tipped over it belched forth its contents. A din loud enough to wake the dead echoed up and down the hallway.

Eri grit her teeth, glared daggers and blew out her breath in disgust, making her bangs fly up and flip back down again. "Nice going, dork," she growled.

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

"You will be when we get back, you clumsy dumbass–"

A brusque voice cut her off. "You there! Step out with your hands up. Now!"

The two looked at each other, shrugged and stepped out to face a very large, grim-faced corporal, the same man whom Eri had seen earlier. Now he stood a only few paces away. The shoulder holster over his sleeveless olive-green T-shirt was empty; the sizeable sidearm it contained was now gripped in the fist almost the size of a canned ham and was covering them. Beneath close-cropped black hair and a furrowed brow his eyes were narrow triangles of ice blue that ticked back and forth; although the two strangers wore standard-issue clothing, he'd never seen either of them before. And the guy actually looked a bit too young.

"Let's see some ID," he demanded.

Hands still up, Tyler nudged Eri with an elbow. "Uh…we must have left it back in our quarters–"

His glower darkened. "What division?"

"Oh, we're from out of town, sir." Tyler volunteered.

"Yeah, that's it. Just visiting. So, what's your name?" Eri's grin grew wider as she scrutinized this fine specimen of a man. He had a very nice body and a big gun and she wondered if that wasn't the only thing that was big. She put on her cheeriest smile…her philandering knew neither bounds nor shame.

Her charm was lost, however. Now the corporal's face was downright stormy. "You're in a restricted area with no identification and have a lame-ass story to boot. I am not impressed." The barrel of his handgun flicked to the side. "Turn around. Feet apart, hands up against the wall." They did as they were told when he began to pat them down Eri had to get another word in. "Just watch those hands, soldier."

Tyler muttered, "Sure you wouldn't enjoy that?"

"He's feeling up more than you ever will," she smirked. Then she almost jumped. "Ow, shit! Hey, ease up, jarhead!" His weapon holstered now, the corporal had roughly grasped her wrists, bringing them behind her back and securing them with a pair of cuffs. He regarded her intently. "You know, you'd best mind that mouth of yours. You're in no position to complain. Stay facing the wall and don't get any ideas."

Tyler snickered but clammed up when his turn came. His teammate surreptitiously tried to squirm a hand free (situation be damned, that's just how she was) but ceased her efforts when she heard more footsteps approaching.

Oh, great, just fricking peachy. This was turning out to be a regular party.

The strides clocked to a stop behind them all and a familiar voice spoke. "Problems?"

"Couple of gatecrashers, sir. No ID."

A pregnant pause. "Really? Okay you two, what's the story?"

Eri and Tyler both turned and there stood Master Sergeant Ryan Whittaker, thumbs tucked into his belt, watching them with just the slightest hint of a smile. "You're in a peck of trouble."

"We got lost."

Eri's reply earned a raised 'tell me more' eyebrow from Ryan and a 'see what I mean?' eyeroll from the corporal. The sergeant nodded, but of course didn't believe it one bit, and turned to the other man. "I'll take it from here, Oz."

"Sir? You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Let 'em go."

A couple of minutes later and Eri and Tyler were rubbing their wrists. Ryan said something to the corporal; Oz shrugged, gave them all a puzzled look and retreated to his post by the door. The sergeant turned to the released couple. "Now, let me take a wild guess…you were trying to sneak into the lounge, right?" He tried to sound gruff but couldn't keep a tiny note of amusement out of his voice. "That's pretty ballsy. Especially tonight."

This piqued Tyler's curiosity. "Why?"

"Because the competition is underway. Qualifiers have already begun for the finals next week. There's some hardcore betting going on…some of the gamblers take the sport seriously, if you know what I mean." And as if to confirm that this was so, a faint burst of cheering erupted from behind the closed door. It sounded like a good-sized mob this evening.

Eri lifted her chin defiantly, eyes glittering. "Huh! You may be surprised just how big my balls are."

Ryan pursed his lips. "Think so, huh?"

Half her teeth showed in a lopsided shark's grin that almost made him take a step back. This girl, he mused, is definitely a scrapper. Heaven forbid if she should run into Nasty. Nasty was the fitting nickname of the Underground Lounge's reigning champion, a woman whose deceptively languid mannerisms concealed an edge tough enough to make Jane look positively harmless. She had humiliated the corporal more than once, both in the arena and out of it. In fact, since her defeat weeks ago, Proudfoot now found excuses not to come here anymore. Nasty was a real level ten bitch in a lot of peoples' books, but they dared not say it aloud. Ryan crossed his thick arms. "I take it you guys are off-duty?"

"For the next few hours," Tyler replied nervously. He really wanted to leave.

The sergeant appeared to consider. "You know, I could get you in, but I don't know if that's wise. Perhaps you can pass as a couple of privates under my command…."

The two X-COM agents exchanged incredulous glances, then looked at the Deep Eye. Us? Plebes? their expressions seemed to say. Ryan heaved a gigantic sigh, rubbed the back of his neck in a deliberative gesture and glanced at his watch. "All right…you're with me. But stick close. Most of the patrons are cool but there are always a few jerks around. Oh, and if you see a woman with two-toned hair, for God's sake leave her alone." The trio started towards the door where Oz regarded them with no real surprise. At a nod from the sergeant, the corporal stepped over and began to unlock the door. Tyler gave a brief "Thanks" and Eri scowled (awesome bod or not, he had still acted like a dick), but a commotion in the hallway behind made everyone stop.

"Now what?" Atwood wondered aloud. Part of him still didn't want to go in, but the other part of him was curious as to what passed as entertainment around here. Meanwhile, the source of the hubbub appeared. Well, half of it anyway, walking backwards in front of his companion whose face and body language shouted a real reluctance to be here in the first place.

It was Neil and Jane, of course.