Author's Note: Please forgive the complete randomness of this fanfic. The idea came about whilst I was looking for the naval word for an officer's cap (I still haven't found out the meaning...), and whilst I was looking, I found this site with a fair few... questionable bits of naval jargon. It really made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with you. And apologies in advanced; this was going to be an unpaired fanfic, but two certain references made me go a little AWOL with it, hence, there's a wee bit of MK at the end... Also, apologise for how bad the ending is – the hour is late, well, early, and I'm too tired to think of anything else... So yeah, sorry :)

Spider Goes Back To School (A Lesson in Naval Jargon)

It was an understated rule amongst most sailors in the RAN, that there was a hidden code – a secret language if you may – that all newly enlisted seamen (most especially bosun's mates) had to learn. Sure, it wasn't exactly required for them to study, but it was good fun anyway (in most cases) – and besides, it allowed sailors (not officers, mind) to communicate in a language that only they knew.

However, there was a catch to this little educational experience. It required the use of one's shore leave, a computer and one (not so) insignificant website. And unfortunately for Spider, that day to learn the sailor's language was today.

Sitting in front of his laptop – website opened up and sprouting perhaps one too many words, abbreviations and phrases – he held his pen in his right hand and his notepad in the other, ready to write down the crap that ET was making him learn.

Putting his pen back on the table, he scrolled down the list. Shit, that's a lot of words... Coming across one in particular, he frowned in surprise before cracking a smile and eagerly writing the phrase down:

Alpha Mike Foxtrot = 'Adios, Motherfucker' or 'Adios, My Friend' or simply, 'AMF'

Laughing to himself, he thought over who he could use it on without being found out. Smiling when he came across someone, he continued scrolling, raising his eyebrows at one in particular:

ARAB = Arrogant Regular Army Bastard

Snorting in amusement, he added it to his list before his thoughts ran off to memories of one such ARAB – though he was probably one of the more 'special' arrogant army bastards. Shaking his head, he continued to read through the list, having only reached the beginning of 'B' whilst deep in thought. Frowning in surprise and cocking an eyebrow at some rather bold words and phrases, he stopped dead in his tracks when one such word (and one quite familiar to him) played across the screen.

Buffer = The senior rate responsible for seamanship evolutions. According to some, stands for 'Big Ugly Fat Fucker Easily Replaced'

Spider bit his lip, thinking over the apparent acronym's meaning. Um... Shifting his gaze towards the closed door of the junior sailors' mess, he quickly scrolled down and flipped the page of his notebook.

"Hey Spide!" ET suddenly exclaimed, barging through the mess door with all his usual boyish charm and smiles.

"Uh hey, ET," Spider replied hesitantly, glancing at the screen to make sure 'Buffer' had indeed disappeared.

"Enjoying your lesson?"

"It's like exams all over again," he mumbled. "I hate studying..."

"Don't we all?" ET retorted, dropping into the seat next to Spider. Looking at the current list of words, abbreviations and phrases, he laughed out loud as he came across one he remembered. "Best bit of jargon ever," he commented, pointing at the particular acronym.

"CINCHOUSE," Spider read, raising his eyebrows at the weird new word.

"Keep reading," the blonde technician pushed, smirking as he caught Spider's expression.

"'Commander in Chief of the House, that is, one's spouse'."

ET laughed again, taking over Spider's laptop and scrolling down until he came to another one he recognised.

"This is a classic as well: DILLIGAF."

"Is that really appropriate?" Spider asked, reading the meaning.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" ET returned, though his tone was taken to an all time low (for him at least), just in case he was overheard.

Spider gave a small smile, writing the acronym down before proceeding to look at the rest. Tapping his pen at another set of letters he had never seen before, ET 'ah-ed' in response.

"Only ever use that one when you're seriously angry at the navy. You don't want anyone overhearing you use that one – someone might take offence."

"Why would I ever say 'fuck the Navy'? The navy's the best thing that's ever happened to me," Spider answered, confused at ET's statement.

"There'll be a time when you really want to say it Spide; maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. And just so you don't get intp trouble when that day comes, use FTN instead."

"Anyway Spide," ET continued, standing up and walking to the closed door, "I'm taking my shore leave and off to have a Hollywood shower – look it up," he added, catching Spider's questioning expression.

The young sailor watched as the mess door slowly inched open again, before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. Scrolling down through the list, he came across ET's freshly used bit of jargon and grinned.

Hollywood Shower = an excessively long shower

Writing it down in his notepad, he looked back over his notes. Laughing at some of the ones he had previously written, he sighed when his eyes diverted back to the list on the screen. Groaning slightly, he pressed the down arrow on the keyboard and waited until he saw something interesting. It was a while before he did...

Oscar Brothers

"What?" he muttered.

Oscar Brothers = the commanding officer and the executive officer (CO & XO)

"'Cept the X is a woman."

Spider pulled his laptop closed, looking up to see Bomber looking down at him, a knowing smile on her face. "I see you're learning the naval jargon."

"Yeah, ET's making me do it..."

"Aw c'mon Spide!" Bomber cried, noting his lack of enthusiasm, "It's one of the best things about being a sailor and not an officer."

"Still..."

The chef rolled her eyes, reaching down to open up Spider laptop with a disgruntled sigh. "Just continue reading. It's funny, and stupid," she added, "but it's all in good spirit. You don't actually use any of it unless absolutely necessary."

"Fine then – Alpha Mike Foxtrot," he added, and Bomber replied with a laugh, adding that she hopped he meant it in the 'good' way.

"Yeah, I do..." he murmured once she'd left. Running a hand across his face – eyes tired from looking at the screen for too long – he made a scissor split with his fingers thus enabling him enough sight to still see the overly bright computer screen.

Suddenly he began to laugh softly, and before he knew it, the words slipped out.

"Adios, Motherf–"

"Spider," came Kate's voice.

The young seaman came to a complete halt, the word left hanging on his tongue. Swallowing, he looked up at his second in command, not quite looking her in the eye.

"Yes X?"

"Did I just hear what I think I just heard?" she asked coolly, her gaze not faltering in the slightest. She raised an eyebrow in question, patiently waiting an answer though she knew it probably wasn't going to come.

"Uh, no it wasn't, X."

"And what is it that you said then?"

"I said..." His mind was working on overtime, trying to think of an acceptable answer that wouldn't get him any deeper than he already was. "I said: Alpha Mike Foxtrot," he spilled, the words coming out in a rush of nerves.

"Excuse me?"

"Alpha Mike Foxtrot," Mike repeated, coming up behind his X, surprising both his fellow officer and the young sailor.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kate asked, baffled at why everything was suddenly in phonetic alphabet.

"It's a sailor thing."

"And you're a sailor, Sir?"

"I was."

"Sir," she acknowledged. Then turning to Spider she added, "I better not catch you swearing again."

"Aye Ma'am," he answered instantly, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally left.

And then there were two...

"Don't worry about her Spide," Mike smiled, "Although she was right about the swearing; the Australian Navy doesn't tolerate swearing onboard."

"Aye Sir; sorry Sir."

"Good. So... has ET got you back to school and learning the naval jargon?"

"Something like that Sir," he answered.

Mike laughed. "I remember doing that when I first started. AMF used to be my personal favourite, but I think I've come to like 'STAB' a little more over the years."

"Stupid Territorial Army Bastard," Spider translated, smiling when his captain nodded in acknowledgement. "Is there a reason you like it, Sir?" he asked, curious as to why someone so dead-set on loving the navy would bother with the likes of the army (even in such a small trifling reference...).

"Personal reasons I'm afraid," Mike replied, Spider nodding in understanding.

"Well," he continued, "I best be leaving you to your studies Spider; don't want you to fail ET's impromptu test at the end."

"What?" he cried, looking up quickly.

Mike laughed. "Don't worry about it Spider; I'm sure you'll do fine," he replied, turning to leave.

"But–"

"Back to school," he dismissed with a final wave, leaving the young sailor opened mouth and panicking. He really hated tests...

---

Walking down the corridors towards his cabin, the sight to which he opened the door was unexpected. Raising an eyebrow as a stony-faced executive looked back at him, he gestured towards her.

"Something wrong X?"

"I'm not completely stupid, Sir," she answered.

"I know you're not," he replied, sitting in his desk chair.

"Hmm; I hope you realise that even though I've always been an officer, I do know what the sailor's jargon is. Including AMF."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Why'd you make out that you didn't know it then?" he asked.

"Because I didn't see the need to."

"So you'll understand if I say we're the Oscar Brothers?"

"Sir, I'm female."

"It can apply."

"Pfft, and you're a two and a half man," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I'm a Lieutenant-Commander, there's no problem with that."

"There are many problems with that."

"Is there even a point to this conversation?"

"Not at all." And standing up to leave, she gave him a final message, "Alpha Mike Foxtrot – the good way of course."