A/N: This is for you, Jenny. Not only are you a dirty Red bastard, but you have officially gotten this song stuck in my head for all eternity.
*blows kiss*
Love ya (sort of)~
Zydrate comes in a little glass vial…
Tucker yawned, sitting on top of one of Blood Gulch's many cliffs, tossing rocks and seeing how many he could hit the orange soldier on top of Red base with.
"Ouch! Son of a bitch!"
A bullet grazed Tucker's side by mere millimeters, at which point he decided maybe it was best to go back down to Blue base for a little while.
The Base itself was empty- Tucker could hear Caboose serenading Sheila in a voice that made Tucker wish he could cut off his own ears ala Van Goff, or whoever that lame ass artist was.
As for Church…judging by the sounds that came from their quarters, Tucker was sure he didn't want to know.
His gaze fixed on a large grey crate in the corner of the base- surely that hadn't been there when Tucker left this morning.
Supply drop. It's about damn time.
Eagerly Tucker opened the crate, pawing through the contents, only to hang his head in disappointment. Caboose had ordered two dozen jars of mustard. Again.
No wonder it kept getting in his sheets.
There was precious little else, except for some bottles of water- certainly not enough to last them until the next drop- and a collection of glass vials Tucker had never seen before.
He picked one up in his gloved hand, turning it over in his fingers as he squinted to read the miniscule writing on the peeling label.
Zydrate.
"What the fuck?" He wondered aloud, looking closer at the bottle.
But there was nothing else. No instructions, no hint as to its purpose. Only that name. Zydrate.
"This is some Alice in Wonderland shit or something," he muttered under his breath.
Not that he remembered Alice in Wonderland- much. It had been his little sister's doing, forcing him to be glued to some cartoon shit for an hour and a half.
Nor would he admit that despite his bitching he had actually liked it.
Either way, he was so bored he was ready to try anything different from the usual routine, even if that meant ingesting mysterious liquids in little glass vials.
"Bottoms up," he said, pulling off his helmet and downing the liquid in one gulp.
Huh. The liquid burned his throat the way tequila would, but it tasted sweet, cloyingly so, like honey.
Weird.
Still, he didn't feel different in the slightest.
"Lame," he mumbled, grabbing another vial and sucking down the liquid.
This Zydrate stuff wasn't so bad after all. Was it?
Crash. Bang.
A slurred curse, "Shit!"
Church sat up, groaning. He was so not in the mood to deal with Caboose's ineptness today. Then again, when was he ever?
Either way, stretching his stiff limbs he made his way down the hallway separating the sleeping quarters from the rest of the base, shivering slightly as the cold air from the steel structure hit his bare chest. He didn't usually spend his time in a pair of fatigues he used as pajamas, but after a while that armor started to itch…well, it was just uncomfortable.
But when he peered around the corner and saw what was going on he wished he was less…exposed.
"Church!"
The aqua solider, helmet removed and eyes bloodshot, threw himself at Church, placing a kiss on the astounded Private's lips before Church had a chance to even think about fighting back.
"I fuckin' love you, man…" Tucker slurred, clinging onto a glass vial for dear life.
Church wanted to spit. Kill Tucker. Kill himself.
And yet…a very small part of Church wanted to kiss Tucker back.
He chalked it up to post-dream haziness and grabbed the vial from Tucker's hand.
"What the fuck is this shit?!"
"Zydrate." Tucker gave him a sloppy grin before collapsing on the floor in a fit of giggles.
Church stared at the bottle, turning it this way and that in the light. Sure enough, the label read 'Zydrate' in spidery, Gothic script.
He grabbed the aqua solider by his armored neckpiece, shaking him, "Where the fuck did you get this?"
"Calm down, Church. 'S all good…"
"No. No it fucking isn't."
"Just relax…feels so good…"
The inebriated solider fell into a daze and Church dropped him back on the ground with an un-ceremonial thump.
Shit.
Church scanned the room frantically, trying to find something, anything that would explain his companion's odd behavior.
The supply drop. Of course.
Church shook his head, his face in his hands. He shouldn't be surprised with the shit that Command sent in lieu of supplies, but this one had to take the fucking cake.
Scrambling back into his armor he wracked his brain trying to remember Vic's number.
Oh, right. That stupid jingle.
He switched on his helmet radio, " Blue Command, come in Command!"
"Yo, Blue dude! How's it hanging?"
"What the fuck did you guys put in our latest supply drop?"
"Whoa, calm down dude."
"I'm not going to fucking calm down when our- my- men are high out of their fucking minds because of that Zydrate shit you sent us!"
Silence.
A minute passed, and Church felt his temper rise even more than it already was- if that was even possible.
"Vic? Don't drop the call, you fucking bastard!"
Church could hear a sigh, a smacking of the lips, ice cracking in some sort of drink.
"Zydrate, man? In the little glass vial?"
"Yes." Church growled.
"Uh, dude, it appears we, uh, sent you the wrong package, yo."
"WHAT?! Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Gotta go." The words came out rushed, and Church clenched his fists.
"Don't you dare hang up on me, asshole!"
A dial tone.
"Fuck!"
"Caboose," he called out into the canyon, hoping the cheerfully stupid Blue solider would respond. Sure enough, there was a glint of Regulation Blue on the horizon, getting closer.
"Mr. Church, sir!"
Church sighed, and pointed towards the base, "Get Tucker into bed, will ya?"
"Yes, sir!"
The Blue skipped happily into the base; Church beyond grateful that his moronic underling had the strength of an ox.
Rubbing his temples Church walked towards the cliffs, desperate for some fresh air.
He was going to have one hell of a migraine in the morning.
And all though he didn't want to admit it, his lips still tingled where Tucker had kissed him.