A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 62! Last chapter I said we would start focusing on the characters that had been out of the spotlight for a long time, and now we'll see more of that throughout this arc as I really want to develop Wash and Carolina's relationship going forward. (Believe it or not I was originally going to go with Wash and Massa. Look how that turned out XD)

*Chapter 62*

Washington sighed as he sat on the Pelican dropship, his grey eyes staring at the dark floor of the craft. Reach and Maine were already in the cockpit discussing on how the drinking contest was going to go down, and even though he had agreed to it, the dark haired Freelancer didn't really feel up to it. He had a lot of pressing matters on his mind at the moment, mainly on how he felt about the woman in aqua armor sitting right next to him.

Wash glanced over at Carolina ever so subtly as to not be caught by her; he knew she was as attentive as a hawk, almost to a fault. She was the one who always showed up to class on time and never once missed a training session, even if she was sick or injured on a mission. Ever since Project Freelancer first started, she was always training past the hour to keep her position at the top of the leaderboard. When Tex showed up and took the number one spot for herself it only got worse; God knows how many times Wash would be taking a late night stroll thanks to his insomnia only to bump into York keeping an eye on her as she trained at three in the morning.

He never understood how she could push herself that much. He practically yearned to watch over her when she did it, seeing as it was her who took the time to mentor him to the best of her ability and he felt as though he had to repay her somehow. However, he never did. He wasn't stupid; he and everyone else knew how close Carolina and York were and the last thing he wanted to do was try and get between what he knew was a very close relationship. He hadn't forgotten the moans that came from the locker room after the two of them got locked in it one night, or how disheveled the two were once morning came around.

Wash was tempted to let out a frustrated growl at his dilemma. Sitting right next to him was the one woman who he idolized more than anything and cared about so much, but he couldn't help but feel horribly guilty as well. It felt like he was betraying his friendship with York, even though his best friend had been killed by the Meta some time ago. 'What would Reach do in this situation? He also knew how intimate they were.'

'…he'd tell me to stop moping around and either do something or shut the fuck up about it.' He was tempted to snort at that. He knew how the hyper lethal vector would act if he were in his boots. Even though he had thawed out considerably since his relationship with Tex, he was still as blunt as a Gravity Hammer when it came to certain things like relationship advice. 'Yeah. As good of a friend as he is, maybe he's not the best person to go to for stuff like this. Nor is Maine for that matter.' Hell, Maine would probably grab both Wash and Carolina and stuff them into the nearest locker and refuse to let them come out until they either kissed or had raunchy sex. Knowing Maine, it would most likely be the latter. He had quite a few unusual kinks.

Wash wasn't desperate or stupid enough to try and go to Tucker for relationship advice. He knew damn well what the perverted soldier would say. Something along the lines of starting off with a shitty pickup line and then try and get in bed with her. Knowing Carolina, she'd fuck up his other eye for saying something like that.

Simmons and Grif were also out, mainly for the fact neither of them had ever been a relationship their entire fucking lives and wouldn't know the first thing about wooing the opposite sex. Also, the two simulation troopers were completely passed out thanks to how much exercise they were having to do nowadays.

That left the only other person onboard their ship, South. Shit, it was probably his best choice if he thought about it. Even Tex would say something perverted and god awful. Jun was a Spartan through and through and was all business. Romance wasn't exactly something up his alley, mainly because he simply didn't have the time or mentality for it.

He glanced up at the orchid Freelancer, running a thumb over the scar that marked his right eye. Her helmet was in her hands and she was humming along a cheerful tune that sounded suspiciously like the song Sarge would go around singing every night he patrolled the ship. "I just wish that Grif was dead, put a bullet through his head."

Wash was tempted to laugh. He never saw South as the type to enjoy singing. If he had to choose anyone in their band of misfits to secretly be a singer, he'd have chosen Tex. It was definitely something that fit the trolly nature that came to her quicker than the beatdowns she'd put on the rest of the agents of Project Freelancer save for Carolina. 'Never would've guessed that South picked up that song. Figured Maine or Tex would before her.'

"Nice song there," he said with a quiet chuckle. "You pick it up from Sarge?"

"Yep." South smirked and pushed some of her sweaty hair out of her face. "The old fucker might drive us insane with his god awful glory stories, but he definitely has some creativity when it comes to creating new songs and planning new ways to painfully murder Grif. I wonder if Simmons picked it up over the years of being stuck in Blood Gulch together."

Washington laughed at the thought. He could very easily picture the members of Red Team celebrating a hard day's work by drunkenly singing about the painful demise of their resident lazy fatass in the middle of the night.

"Probably. It does seem like something he'd do," he said, glancing over at Carolina. The redhead was remarkably quiet, even for herself, and Wash swallowed a lump in his throat before addressing her. 'I really hope I don't fuck this up somehow. The last thing I want to do is make the woman I feel so strongly towards get pissed off at me because I'm an idiot who trips over his own words.'

'As much as I want to, I can't talk to her right now. Not when I don't have a single fucking clue as to what the hell to say or do. I'll talk to South first,' Washington decided. With his mind made up, he let his head hit the back of his seat and closed his eyes, the soft vibrations of the Pelican dropship slowly lulling him into a very brief doze.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just barely on the edge between completely falling asleep and being wide awake, but the next thing he was able to recall was Carolina roughly shaking him in an attempt to rouse him. "Hey, Wash. Come on, wake up; we're back on the ship."

'Shit! Did I really fall asleep on a ride back to the ship!? Fucking perfect.' Wash snapped his grey eyes open in a heartbeat and shook his head, trying to wake himself up and shake off the weariness that ate at his bones. "Shit. I didn't mean to fall asleep. How long was I out?"

"Only ten minutes or so." Carolina's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile and the redhead tossed his helmet to him. "You're lucky I was the one who woke you up first; Reach and Maine were debating whether or not to draw on your face with a sharpie pen they happened to find in the cockpit."

Washington groaned and rubbed his eyes, letting his helmet fall into his lap. "Thanks. Rather be woken up by you then finding myself with some sort of horrible drawing on my face. I doubt it would look good, anyway."

"Be thankful that while Reach has a sense of humor, he wasn't going to draw anything malicious." Carolina smirked. "He was planning on only doing a cat since you apparently have an obsession of them."

"I do not!"

"Wash, your locker on the Mother of Invention said otherwise."

"Shut up, South." Washington looked away with a grumble as the two women shared a quiet laugh. "She doesn't need any help." 'Even after Project Freelancer has been essentially brought down with the former agents either rogue or killed in action, they're never going to forget that I had cat pictures in my locker. Sometimes, I question why they are my best friends. Then I remember the shit we've all been through together and realize I'll gladly put up with their bullshit.'

"Aw, don't tell me you're getting embarrassed about it now," South said teasingly. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Maine has a love of knitting like that one crazy grandmother we all have but are terrified of. You're not the only one with weird passions. I don't even want to know what Reach's is."

"Knowing him, it's a tossup between having sex with Tex and trying to find excuses to justify him blowing shit up in the training room," Wash said dryly.

"Hey, I heard that," Reach muttered from the cockpit. "And for the record, I don't think either of those things qualify as a weird passion. I'm pretty sure both of those are normal."

"That is what you'd consider normal?" South asked, giving the former Spartan a strange look and folding her arms. "Shit. Remind me not to bring you around my kids. I don't even want to think of the kind of shit you'd teach them if you got the chance."

"You don't have any fucking kids, South."

"Guess I don't have anything to worry about then."

Reach chuckled and landed their Pelican in the cruiser's landing bay, extending the landing gear. It was probably the smoothest landing Wash had ever experienced as a soldier; most times he was either falling from orbit in a drop pod or having 479er do a crazy maneuver to make their express elevator go down.

"You know, I never asked. How did you learn to fly so good?" he asked. "Just out of curiosity. I didn't think Spartan IIIs were trained to be expert fighter pilots." 'He's a better pilot than even 479er. I'm glad she's not here; she'd probably be pissed off if someone better than her showed up.'

"Picked up a few tricks in the Sabre program a few years before the attack on Reach," the red and black Freelancer replied, flexing his fingers and cracking his neck. "Getting the opportunity to pilot some of the UNSC's finest single person fighters taught me quite a bit. I can fly probably anything up to a Covenant Supercarrier if I put my mind to it."

"Jesus Christ man. Remind me not to let you anywhere near 479er if we find her again." Washington laughed and removed the harness keeping him strapped in. "She would throw the galaxy's biggest fit if she found out there was someone in the UNSC who was a better pilot than her." 'She'd probably do more than that. She'd demand to know who it was so we can drag them to her and have her kill them.' At least, that's what would normally happen if someone claiming to be a better pilot than Project Freelancer's ace showed up.

But Reach was not a normal pilot. He was one used by the Office of Naval Intelligence for years to take down high value targets ranging from Insurrection leaders to Covenant shipmasters. He probably started flying some of the UNSC's best aircraft before 479er was even born. It was one of the many great perks of being a Spartan III, as he was so fond of reminding them whenever he got a chance.

'Yeah, that sure as shit isn't fucking happening.' Washington let out a dismissive snort at the thought of 479er taking on someone of Reach's caliber. The man would laugh at every feeble attempt she threw at him before knocking her out with his fucking pinky. There wasn't exactly a whole lot she could do to hurt him short of dropping a nuclear warhead on him. Even then, Wash was willing to bet that Reach would magically survive that just out of petty spite.

Reach stood up from the cockpit with his Mark VI helmet in hand, his dark gaze flickering over everyone. "Alright people. You all know the stakes when it comes to the drinking contest we've all scheduled for the day. This is some really potent shit, so if you want to back out, now is your last chance. I won't hold it against you."

"Eh, we don't back away from challenges," South replied with a grin. "Bring it on, Cyborg." Maine let out a deep chuckle at that.

Washington shook his head. "Nope. Not backing out. I'd rather not listen to the Reds and Blues calling me a bitch because I backed out of a friendly contest. What's the catch?"

"First one to black out has to pay the enormous water bill that Simmons managed to rack up thanks to him leaving the fucking sprinklers on after we left Blood Gulch. Private, for the love of God, I do hope you learned your lesson and shut them off this time around. I'm not paying a second one."

"Y-yes sir!" the maroon private said nervously, shifting uncomfortably in his spot as everyone onboard the ship (including Grif and the Freelancers' AIs) all gave him a hard stare. "I promise that I made sure the sprinklers were turned off before we left this time. Just please don't kill me…"

"For fuck's sake, what the hell do we look like to you, psychopaths who go on murder sprees for shits and giggles?" Reach rolled his eyes.

"…sir, is that question rhetorical or not?"

"No. It isn't," Reach said sarcastically.

"Holy shit, dude." Grif raised an eyebrow and took a long pull on his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. "That was off the charts even for my sarcastic meter. I didn't think anyone would actually beat me. Well done, sir."

"Duly noted, Private Grif," Reach replied. "Now, if you two plan on participating, I suggest you get your asses to the bridge. On the double now. If you're late, you get to have a pleasant time running drills while in a state of severe intoxication. And I can tell you from my own personal experience, it isn't fucking fun."

Something told Washington that the lieutenant was kidding around about that punishment, either. He and the others followed him as he broke into a steady jog towards the bridge, the sounds of their boots hitting the cold steel floor echoing in a perfect rhythm. It was so perfectly in sync, even the strictest drill sergeant would probably have an orgasm at the symphony.

'That is definitely not a pleasant mental image, now that I think about it.' Washington grimaced. 'I'm really going to need some of Reach's liquor to forget I ever thought that disturbing thought. Seriously, what the fuck goes on in my brain? I'm starting to think this is just an unfortunate side effect of the Director trying to implant Epsilon in my head when he knew damn well that the unit was unstable.'

They reached the bridge and the doors slid open with a metallic hiss, showing an exasperated Jun and a smirking Texas. Washington let out a sigh. He'd know that shit eating grin of Texas's anywhere from their time in Project Freelancer. She was either planning something mischievous or she had already succeeded in the endeavor and was being smug about it.

The blonde waved over to Carolina, smirking. "Hey, Carolina. How do you like your father in law? You think I chose well this time around?"

Reach and South tried to hide their snickers as Carolina buried her head in her hands and groaned. "Oh, fucking great. Reach, you're an asshole. I hope you know that."

"I already put that on the next resume I printed out for when I finally retire from the military and seek a new job." Reach smirked and thumped Carolina on the back. "Don't worry; we won't tease you about it too much. Just whenever we happen to feel like it."

"So basically, every other hour or so."

"Pretty much. Get used to it, daughter."

"Shut the hell up," Carolina grumbled as Reach and Texas shared a high five and a kiss. Washington couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the display of affection. His own heart yearned for that very same thing and his mind screamed at him to take Carolina's hand in his own. His hand reached for hers, but he stopped himself before he could even brush against the aqua colored metal of her armor.

'Not now. Not when her mind is also probably a complete fucking mess from the shit she's gone through.' Washington bit back a frustrated sigh and let his hand fall, looking at the Spartan. "So, when do you want to get this started? Right now?"

"Yep." Reach brought out his mysterious liquor and Washington watched as Carolina backed as far away from it as humanly possible, her back pressing against the doors.

"Um, this is nice and all, but I have one hell of a headache from the bullshit I've had to deal with in the last few weeks. You know, with me being thrown off a cliff and supposedly being dead and everything." She let out a nervous laugh.

Reach raised an eyebrow skeptically. It was clear he didn't fully buy the bullshit excuse Carolina just gave him, but he didn't even attempt to stop her. Instead he merely nodded and let her go lay down. "Alright. Don't worry; we won't try and drunkenly disturb you or prank call your room."

"Thanks for being considerate. Old man."

"Shut up, daughter."

The remaining participants laughed and Reach snapped his fingers. "Alright. Jun, grab the cups."

"Got it, Adam." Jun grinned and collected a bunch of cups for him, and the light green Spartan chuckled when he saw the liquor they were using. "Wait a second…is that the same stuff we used to drink when we were on Noble Team?"

"Yep. Why? Is that going to be a problem, old friend?"

"Not at all."

Washington wasn't sure whether or not to be terrified of what he was about to do when he saw the two Spartans grinning like a pair of wolves about to tear into rabbits.

Then he saw Texas pull out a camera and he knew this was going to be one long fucking night. 'Ah shit. This is gonna fucking suck.'

Still, a Freelancer never went back on his word, and so Washington raised his cup and clanked it together with the rest of them save for Texas before downing his first drink. 'Fuck it. Bottoms up.'

He blinked a few times as the powerful alcohol hit his tongue and scorched his throat. He immediately coughed and clutched onto the table for support to prevent himself from toppling over in a heap. "H-holy shit…what the fuck is that!?" 'Jesus fucking Christ. That stuff is really potent. I thought the fucker was kidding when he said this would floor us.'

Reach, Maine and Jun looked like they were handling it fine, and Texas was on the ground laughing at his and South's sick groans. Tucker and Sarge didn't look like they were faring any better either. The two simulation troopers looked like they were going to hurl any moment, and the sword wielding pervert shook his head and put his hands up. "Nope. Fuck that shit, man. I ain't doing this anymore. How much is the fucking water bill?"

"That wasn't the agreement, Private Tucker." Reach smirked devilishly. "The wager was whoever passes out first has to pay it. Not the first to back out. Don't be a bitch now."

Washington put his cup down and shook his head, shaking off the discomfort. His stomach churned and his head started to pound, but he was not about to give up. He would show he could handle his shit as well as the Spartans.

"You guys feeling okay?" Reach was trying very hard to hide his smirk. "Because round two is next."

Washington nodded, grimacing and letting Reach pour everyone a second round. "Round Two, everyone. Bottoms up."

Sarge let out a groan as he downed his second drink, him and Tucker falling on the floor in a heap of aqua and red armor. They were done for.

"That's not at all surprising," Jun remarked, giving Tucker a prod with his boot. He chuckled when Tucker let out a sick groan, glancing over at Reach. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I made it after all. How about you guys? Holding up okay?" Reach asked.

"Y-yeah…I think so." South's face was turning a slight pale shade of green and she covered her mouth as she let out a soft burp that was most definitely a signal that she was going to hurl any moment. "E-excuse me…I'm going to go hit the bathroom right quick. I'm not bowing out yet."

She ran out towards the bathroom and Reach and Maine chuckled. "Poor girl. South wasn't much of a drinker in Project Freelancer, was she?"

"Nah." Washington shook his head. "That was mostly York and North. I joined them on occasion, like when we were having movie nights or watching the Grifball tournaments, but those two were definitely the heavy drinkers of the group. I don't know how the fuck they managed to get it past the Director without him knowing." 'It's not like they were exactly sneaky with it. They practically roamed the halls of the ship with suitcases of beer in their hands. Either the Director was way too busy to notice them or he just didn't give a shit. I'm inclined to believe it was the latter.'

Maine merely shrugged and offered his cup to let Reach fill it a third time. The big man gave them all a cocky grin and chugged it like it was nothing more than a beer, letting out a hearty growl.

Karma hit him hard and fast. Maine took two steps forward and his cup fell from his giant hands, clattering onto the floor. He soon followed suit, crashing onto the floor with a growl of pain. The entire room shook from the impact and South chose that opportunity to return to the contest, her eyes wide at seeing her boyfriend flat on the floor. "Maine! Are you okay!?"

Maine lifted his hand and gave her a thumbs up, using his incredible strength to push himself back onto his feet. His dark eyes were glazed over from intoxication now, but he still snatched his cup up from the floor and managed to hobble over to the nearest chair with assistance from both South and Reach.

"You okay there, big man?" Reach asked. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to." He and Jun downed their own third drinks, both Spartans still somehow standing despite the amount of alcohol they've consumed.

Maine gave him a look, and the red and black Freelancer shrugged before pouring them a fourth round. "Alright. You asked for it. South, Wash? You two up for it?"

"Count us in." South wasn't looking green anymore, though her eyes were definitely more glazed than Maine's. At least Wash thought they were; his own vision was incredibly blurry and he was finding it hard to keep his balance, so he did the smart thing by also going to sit in a chair.

He didn't want to topple over and shake the entire fucking ship like Maine did. That dent in the floor was going to be hard to explain to their pet Huragok.

Maine, Reach, and Jun started their fourth round, each of them downing their drinks together. This time, the two Spartans were starting to get affected by it, but they remained standing. Maine was not so lucky.

He completely fell asleep in his chair, South soon joining him after her third drink. The two started to snore together and Reach and Jun chuckled. "Well, guess who gets to pay the bill? Those two."

Washington let his head hit the back of his chair and closed his eyes. He would let the two Spartans battle it out until the bitter end.

He was just glad he didn't have to pay that fucking water bill.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I do hope this extended chapter was more than worth it! In this arc we will focus a lot more on Wash and Carolina, as I feel like I would need to give them proper attention to develop their relationship. I'm no good at keeping it in the background XD

Special announcement: I've done a fanfiction author interview! The link to it is on my bio, so go ahead and check it out! It'll give you a chance to hear what this half-baked author actually sounds like XD.

C. Strife #5371