I've Got Your Back
"Amicu certus in re incerta cernitur." (A true friend is certain when matters are uncertain.)
~Quintus Ennius.
Deep in thought and absently finger-combing her damp hair, Hawkeye jerked violently when the door to her dorm room flew open.
"You startled me," she said in an accusatory tone, as Catalina bounded in.
"Oh good, you're already showered!" Catalina chirped. "I wasn't sure whether you'd be back from the range yet; thought we might have to wait a bit for you."
"Wait for me for what?" Hawkeye asked, bewildered.
"A few of us are going out for drinks down at the Wild Turkey. You'll come, won't you?"
"Depends," Hawkeye said slowly, grabbing the damp towel she'd dropped on her bed a few minutes earlier. "What are the chances that this will be a nice, quiet evening out among people who will conduct themselves with poise and dignity?" Rebecca pretended to consider.
"Mm, slim to none," she shrugged, grinning.
"Then, thanks, but no," Riza replied, laughing a little as she hung the towel on the hook behind her door.
"Ah, come on! I've been dying to get out all week!"
"So why don't you? You said there were other girls going, didn't you?" Rebecca huffed and flung herself down flat across the bed and narrowly missing Riza's toiletry bag.
"But none of them even like me," she whined.
"They don't like you, or you don't like them?" Riza countered, smirking as she tossed the day's dirty clothing into her laundry hamper.
"We have a healthy level of mutual loathing for each other," Rebecca said loftily. "They think I'm an obnoxious flirt, and I think they're self-righteous, jealous snobs."
"You know, if you're still trying to convince me to go along, you really aren't doing a very good job of it," Riza replied, grinning as she dropped back into her desk chair.
"Well it's not like we have to talk to them the whole time!" Rebecca cried, sitting upright suddenly. "We just happen to be going the same place, that's all, but we can pretty much ditch them once we get there."
"Gee, hard to see why they wouldn't like you..." Riza teased, resting her chin in her hand and feigning a thoughtful air.
"Come on, Riza! It's Saturday night! We've got no classes tomorrow! What else are you going to do, laundry?"
"Well, the laundry room IS a lot quieter on Saturday nights," Riza mused.
"You're not seriously choosing dirty socks over going out for drinks with your peers, are you?" Rebecca gasped, scandalized.
"What's the magic word?" Riza prompted, looking prim.
"PLEASE?" Rebecca rose onto her knees and dramatically clasped her hands to her breast. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Riza laughed.
"All right, all right! I'll go," she said, throwing her hands up. "I'll need to change, though…" she added, gesturing to the sweatshirt and pajama pants she'd thrown on after her shower. Unlike some of the other female cadets, she refused to wander the hallways dressed only in her towel.
"Right, about that," Rebecca said, rising to her feet and crossing over to Riza's closet. "You have to have something besides the cadet uniforms and military-issued sweats in here."
"Well, of course I do," Riza said indignantly. Rebecca ignored her and began to rummage through the various hanging items.
"Too modest, too plain, too boring…don't you have any going-out clothes? Short skirts? Dresses?" she asked, exasperated. "We need to take you shopping, stat." Riza just rolled her eyes.
Finally, Rebecca found a black skirt and a short sleeved red blouse that she approved of (grudgingly). And after a brief tussle with mascara and lipstick ("Hold still—I just need to tart you up a little!") which Riza had ultimately lost ("You do NOT look like a whore, you just look like you're wearing lipstick! Stop trying to wipe it off!"), they were on their way.
The Wild Turkey was a rough-and-tumble sort of neighborhood bar not too far from the Academy. Young women, even cadets given daily training on the various methods of killing a man, rarely went there alone. They preferred to travel in packs to avert possible advances from the seedier clientele known to frequent the place. The music was loud, the lighting dim, and the air smoky, but most importantly? The booze was cheap. All of which made the Wild Turkey popular with both the Academy cadets and the students from the nearby Eastern University, in spite of its unsavory reputation.
Sitting alone at the bar and mostly ignoring the other four girls they'd come with, Riza idly toyed with her barely-touched beer. At eighteen, she'd been legally able to drink for two years, now, but until she'd come to the Academy she'd rarely had the opportunity or the inclination to indulge. She didn't even like beer, really. It left an unpleasant, bitter aftertaste on her tongue. But the fruity mixed drinks her companions were drinking sounded wholly unappealing, and she wasn't quite brave enough to toss back shots like a university student, not in a place like this. And so instead she just watched and listened as the people around her got more and more inebriated. Cheap entertainment, she thought with a smirk.
The bartender was flirting with one of his cocktail waitresses, whose low cut blouse and push-up bra were probably netting her a week's worth of tips from the table of middle-aged businessmen who kept ordering White Drachmans. Riza shuddered at the very thought of cream mixed with vodka, but the businessmen seemed to like them well enough. A few tables away from them, an elderly gentleman glowered into his scotch, appearing not to notice the noise and bustle all around him. At the table beside his, two women in their late twenties chattered loudly about their boyfriend troubles. Behind them, two of the four cadets she'd come in with were dancing (if you could even call it that) to a catchy pop song blaring from the jukebox. A trio of eager male cadets who Hawkeye didn't recognize kept them company. In the opposite corner, the third female cadet had joined a mixed group of university students playing darts. The fourth girl sat nearby, watching them play but not participating, and glowering every time one of the boys talked to her friend.
And across the room, Rebecca was flirting with a group of slightly older men who were playing pool. Badly. Riza was certain that she could beat the lot of them. If she'd had Rebecca's daring and a lax moral code, she'd have been tempted to con them all by pretending to play badly at first, and then wiping the floor with them once they'd put money on the game. As it was, though, Rebecca merely giggled as one of the men, a stocky blond, pressed his body close against hers while ostensibly teaching her to line up a shot properly.
"Hey, um, Hawkeye?" one of the other girls suddenly materialized beside her. The curly-haired blonde one whose name Hawkeye always forgot.
"Hm?" she said, turning towards her. Strand? No...Sam?
"We're heading out now. You coming with?" she asked. Hawkeye frowned slightly. What about Rebecca?
"Thanks, but I'd better wait for Catalina to finish her game," she replied politely. "You four go on ahead; we'll see you back in the dorms."
"Oo-okay, but…" the blonde trailed off, glancing over at Rebecca with a doubtful look as the other three girls approached, shrugging on their coats.
"Come on, Sands," hissed Scott, sticking her snub nose in the air. "Let Hawkeye figure it out for herself, then." Sands, that was it, Hawkeye thought. But what were they talking about?
"We can't just leave her here!" Winters protested, elbowing Scott in the side. "Listen, Hawkeye. Catalina…well, you know her reputation, right?"
"I beg your pardon?" Hawkeye replied, raising a brow. Were they honestly implying what she thought they were?
"She's boy-crazy," Smythe said, bluntly. "So, you know, she might not be planning to head back to the dorms, later. And you really shouldn't go back alone. It's dangerous to be out there all by yourself."
"Excuse me, but have any of you actually asked Catalina what her plans are?" Hawkeye asked coldly. "Or are you just guessing that she intends to spend the night with some strange man she's only just met?
"I mean, look at her," Scott said, face twisted in an ugly sneer. "Those guys have been all over her since we walked in."
"Jealous?" Hawkeye asked, quirking one eyebrow. Scott flushed in anger, and Hawkeye narrowed her eyes. "Just because she's flirting with someone doesn't mean she's going to sleep with him. How often have you left her behind to walk back alone because you've simply assumed that she's that kind of girl and slipped out without saying anything to her?" God, no wonder Rebecca didn't like these girls.
"I…we-we didn't mean it like…" Winters stammered, nervously fiddling with the end of her long braid.
"Bit hypocritical, don't you agree?" Hawkeye added with a pointed glance at the young woman who'd been caught sneaking out of the men's dorms only two weeks prior. Winters reddened, and Scott laughed cruelly at her.
"She's got a point, Christie," Scott managed, between guffaws. "Tell us again about how you and Mick are just friends?"
"Rachel! We're not - it's not like that!" Winters protested, glancing between Hawkeye and Scott.
"Comrades should watch each other's backs," Hawkeye interrupted in a low, angry voice. "Not stab each other in them." Sands and Winters both looked away, suitably chastised, and even Smythe looked glummer than usual, but Scott just rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Do…do you want us to wait with you?" Sands asked timidly, blushing almost as pink as Winters still was when Riza turned to face her.
"Thank you, no. I'll take my chances with Catalina," Riza said, as she glanced over at her giggling friend. "Even if she did want to go home with someone, I can certainly take care of myself. Good night."
The other four girls echoed her farewell with varying degrees of sincerity, and began edging their way to the exit. Abandoning her beer, Riza rose and headed toward her friend and the group of men still hovering around her.
"Riza! Hi!" Rebecca chirped brightly as she approached. "Having fun?"
"Loads," Riza lied, trying not to frown. Rebecca looked like she'd had a few more than she meant to, if her glazed eyes and slightly slurred speech were any indication.
"Whoa, there!" Rebecca yelped suddenly, slapping at one of the leering men standing near her, who'd taken advantage of her distraction to 'accidentally' brush up against her ass. "Geez, buy a girl dinner, first!"
"Come on, sweetheart, I won't bite," he said, leaning into her space.
"Why not? Afraid I might like it?" Rebecca returned, batting her eyelashes. Riza swallowed a long-suffering sigh.
"Oh for the love of...excuse me," she said, firmly. "I think we're done here. Let's go, Catalina. Good night, gentlemen." Rebecca's drunken grin collapsed into a pout.
"Hey, no...why can't I stay with my new boyfriend? I'm a big girl, I can stay out late if I wanna!" she insisted, trying to wriggle away from Riza's firm hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, butt out, princess. You're not her mother," another, shorter man growled.
"I'll tell you what," Riza said, ignoring both men and leaning close to her friend. "If you can tell me his name, I'll leave right now. You can do whatever you want with whomever you want, and I won't say another word about it." Rebecca looked up at her and blinked.
"It's…uh...aw, shit," she finally swore softly, realizing that she had no idea what her new 'boyfriend's' name was. "A'right, you win. Let's go."
"Hey!" the first man protested, taking a step toward the two girls. Riza fixed him with a steely look.
"Is there a problem?" she asked in her iciest tone. Faced with Hawkeye's furious glare, stronger men than this cock-sure civilian had crumbled. The fact that she'd shifted her weight into a fighting stance hadn't gone unnoticed, either, and he abruptly remembered the cute brunette saying she was a cadet up at the military academy.
"Uh…no, no problem," he faltered out, backtracking. "Um, have a good night, ladies."
"Thank you," Riza replied coolly, steering her friend firmly away.
"Bye-bye," Rebecca waved sadly over her shoulder.
As they left the bar and made their way through a dark alley towards the main road, Rebecca stumbled and would have fallen if Riza hadn't grabbed her arm. Pulling it around her neck with one hand and wrapping an arm around Rebecca's waist, Riza could only sigh as Rebecca leaned heavily against her.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"I don't feel very good," Rebecca mumbled softly.
"I can see that. How many drinks did you have?"
"Only two," she murmured, "and then jussa couple a shots. Prob'ly shouldn't've had that las' one," she mused, slurring slightly. "But the boys kept buyin' 'em, an' I los' track."
"Oh, Rebecca, you idiot," Riza scolded. "You know better than to mix beer and liquor like that, don't you?"
"I dunno," Rebecca said mournfully.
"Tell me if you start to feel sick," Riza said sharply. "You hear me?"
"Riza?"
"Yes?"
"I feel sick."
Riza half-dragged her over to a trash can near the mouth of the alley, just in time for Rebecca to empty the contents of her stomach. Dimly, Rebecca realized that Riza was gently rubbing her back with one hand and holding her hair out of the way with the other.
"Better?" Riza asked softly when the coughing and retching had subsided.
"I think so," Rebecca mumbled. "Sorry."
"Not as sorry as you'll be tomorrow, when you wake up with an epic hangover," Riza said lightly. "But come on. Let's get you back to the dorms and tuck you into bed."
Although Rebecca didn't remember much of the walk back to the Academy, she did know that they stopped at least once more so she could puke behind some bushes. And she vaguely registered Hawkeye's disgruntled monologue about pool-playing bastards and how she'd fleece them next time to teach them not to try to take advantage of an idiot girl who didn't know her own limits. By the time they reached the Academy, she'd sobered up enough to be ashamed of herself.
Fortunately, the guard in duty at the gate was sympathetic to the follies of young cadets.
"Too much tequila, honey?" she asked kind-heartedly, accepting their IDs from Hawkeye.
"Uh-huh," Rebecca murmured miserably, resting her head on Riza's shoulder. The older woman chuckled as she passed the IDs back.
"Take my advice, sweetie, drink lots of water before you go to sleep. That'll help some. Hope you all don't have drills tomorrow," she added, as they passed onto the Academy grounds.
"It's too bad we don't, really. It might teach her not to accept drinks from strangers," Riza said over her shoulder. The guard's laugh followed them up all the way up the main entrance of the dorms.
Nearly a half an hour later, during which time Riza had supervised a trip to the bathroom, teeth brushing and all, Rebecca crawled gratefully onto her bed. Silently, Riza tugged the blanket over her and turned to leave.
"Hey, Riza?" Rebecca called softly, careful not to wake her roommate.
"What's wrong; do you feel sick again?" Riza whispered back with some alarm.
"No. I just wanted to say thanks. For looking after me," Rebecca said, in a small voice. "I know I'm a pain in the ass."
"Don't worry about it. You'd have done the same for me," she replied, patting Rebecca's leg lightly. But just in case, she repositioned Rebecca's little trash can closer to the bed.
"I know you could've left with the other girls," Rebecca added. "But you stayed for me and made sure I was okay, and then I repay you by puking on your shoes. I'm really sorry."
"Yeah, Hawkeye's a goddamned saint, and you don't deserve her. Now that we're all clear on that point, could you both please shut up and let me sleep?" Rebecca's roommate piped up, crabbily.
"Sorry, Fisher," Hawkeye whispered. "And Catalina, if it makes you feel any better, you got vomit on your own shoes, not mine."
"You don't mean – not my crimson patent leather ankle-strap stiletto pumps?" Rebecca whimpered.
"Remember how you insisted that I wear taller heels with this skirt?" Riza replied, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice. "No good deed goes unpunished."
"I'm never drinking again," Rebecca moaned. "At least, not until next weekend."
Even Fisher laughed out loud.
A.N. All drunken antics based on real life events involving friends and co-workers. Being the designated driver pays off in blackmail material :D