7. The magic of David Bowie

Mealtime promised to be an interesting affair. Normally the mercenaries would eat whenever, just grab what was lying around in the crates when they were hungry, but this evening the male medic proposed a proper sit down dinner to welcome their interdimensional guests. Regardless of the fact that half the women either were not fond of or hated their counterparts, and that most of the men felt the same, he insisted this was the way things needed to be done.

" He's probably drugged all se food for his experiments." Misha mumbled.

" Ya think?" Scout quipped back.

But arrangements were made, furniture moved, and soon the cafeteria tables were positioned in two long rows with sheets thrown over as hasty table cloths. Various people procured food dishes, medic whipped up a delicious looking punch nobody intended to drink, and scout even found the radio he used to listen to red sox games. Once they had convinced the soldiers to un-barricade the door ( "Yes, we are quite sure the Japanese have retreated. Uhuh, yeah, woohoo america and all but please just rip the nails out of those boards now.") it seemed they were all set for something of a shindig. Everyone filed in once twilight settled, and began attacking the food.

At first, scout thought it was going well. Well meaning nobody had killed each other. The heavies eyed each other from a safe distance while they ate before disappearing altogether, the spies gravitated toward opposite sides of the room, and the snipers would not even glance in the other's direction. Speaking of spy, he and the male sniper were dancing around each other like someone had a bomb stuffed down his pants. If they did make eye contact, they only snarled and went back to wolfing down whatever dish was in front of them.

But the scout had more pressing concerns. Miss Pauling was among the people in attendance. She hadn't changed her clothes since yesterday night, her hair was a bit frizzier than normal, plus over the course of the meal she got some of the potato salad Engie made on her shirt; and yet she was perhaps the most gorgeous woman scout had ever seen. She was a real lady, she read, she put up with him even when she knew him longer than the girls at gas stations or fried chicken shops he would pick up, she was perfect…

And Chloe "Tez" or whatever was practically glued to her hip. He'd seen Miss Pauling snap at her last night and that put his mind somewhat at ease but he never underestimated persistence. Persistence is what got him through being the youngest of eight boys, and he was banking on persistence to win Miss Pauling. He had to do something and do it fast to get Chloe away from her.

The radio! He switched it on, and twiddled till he got a station coming in. An a acoustic guitar blared out, and a mellow male voice followed.

"Ground Control to Major Tom,

...Ground Control to Major Tom"

Perfect, that David Bowie song about the astronaut or whatever! Honestly scout had never paid much attention to the lyrics, he just knew it was slow and exactly what he was looking for. He waltz over to Miss Pauling, hoping to seem as confident as his normal excellent self, but his knees were going watery and he felt his hands start to shake.

"M-* EHEM*, Sorry, may I have this dance?" He choked out, offering his hand to Miss Pauling. A questioning, but curious look split her face and she seized it. ' Remember prom, remember prom,' scout thought to himself furiously. Where did he put his hands when dancing with a girl? Shit, how should he know?! He and his date skipped prom to go fuck behind the bleachers! Oh, shit, oh shit-

" Like this," Miss Pauling giggled, moving his hands to her waist.

" Oh, yeah. I knew that." He said, which they both knew he didn't. The rocked back and forth in time to the music.

" Tell my wife I love her very much," Bowie crooned.

" Ground Control to Major Tom,

Your circuit's dead there's something wrong.

Can you hear me Major Tom?

Can you hear me Major Tom?"

" This song's pretty depressing." Miss Pauling interrupted.

" Huh?" Oh, brilliant fucknuts. Scout cursed himself.

" An astronaut drifts out into space, ground control can't reach him, he's lost and alone. Pretty depressing stuff."

" Is what we do anything less? I haven't been back ta' boston in a while, haven't seen mom or my brothers in the last six months, barely know the guys I die for every day. And I die every day. I'm talkin' a lotta death, not fun. And you only get that one day off every year, plus you have to kill a lotta' people and are basically a slave to a boss non of us-" he gestured at the mercenaries, " Ever even see. We any less lonely than this Major Tom guy?"

Miss Pauling was quiet for a long time. 'I screwed up, my hands are sweaty, I'm stepping on her feet and I screwed up,' He thought. When she did reply, all she said was,

" That was really insightful scout." He just shrugged in reply. The song ended, and she let go of him to go back over to where she'd left her food. His moment had passed

But for that one moment, just one moment, they'd been connected. Connected as more than just two lonely people in a cafeteria.

….

" A tenner says 'e grabs 'er boob." Tavish said, turning to Aoife who sat beside him. The two of them had spent the day getting acquainted with various members of both teams, and also cleaning the vomit from Tavish's shoes. At the male medic's word they'd gone to the cafeteria for some sort of dinner thing; now the scout had walked up to Miss Pauling and the two of them were performing the most awkward slow dance in history to a David Bowie song.

" No bet. Don' know 'im well enough. What oi do knoe is this potato salad could sprout legs an' arms and do a jig an' oi wouldn't think anymar of it it's so good."

" Wha'? Really? Lemme 'ave a bit!" Tavish tried to snag some off Aoife's plate, but she snickered and snatched it away. " Oy, that's noe faer!" He played, seizing Aoife by the waist and lifting her up so she burst with giggles, wrestling to keep the plate from his reach.

" Tavish, put mei down!" She shrieked between chortles.

" Getta room!" The female spy called disgustedly from the other side of the caf. Aoife finally squirmed her way free, plunking the potato salad down and whirling to face Tavish. He was in the process of flipping off the female spy, but he turned and grinned at her.

" Aye hope aye didn' knock yer leg lose."

" Takes mar than a scottish boozer stealin' mai food ta' rattle 'er." Aoife said, knocking on the surface of the carbon fiber/ plastic mix surface. " Oi told yue oi loosened the strahps las' noight, only reason she fell off."

" Tha's gud." He said, before swiftly planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. For a moment, there was only the sound of the radio.

" Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles,

I'm feeling very still,

And I think my spaceship knows which way to go." Aoife reach up, her hand brushing where his lips brushed her face.

" Tha' was stupid of me." Tavish fretted.

" Noe, noe s'not." She reassured him, taking his hand.

" Wanna slip out fer a bottle or tue?"

" Read mai mind, ya did."

" Mah ' spaceship'" he jested, referencing the song " 's saying the way to go is mah whiskey stash."

And so as the fictional ground control tried desperately to reach their Major Tom, Aoife and Tavish snuck quickly out of the cafeteria.

…

Fraternizing with the enemy, plain and simple. Granted, everyone was the enemy in Giulia's mind. Aoife wants to go and fuck the version of herself from this universe fine, but she may as well not make such a squealing pig of herself in the process. God, was that horrendous shrieking even a laugh?

" Getta room!" She yelled, making her distaste apparent as she watched the nauseating display of the demolitions wrestling over a plate of potatoes. Leave it to an Irishwoman to ruin everyone else's evening.

Speaking of dreadful nationalities, she saw the french embarrassment of a spy lurking in a corner downwind from the happy couple. If Giulia hated anything more than the Irish it was the French, and if she was having a terrible time and there was a frenchman in the room she could get quite creative with her resentment. When she decides to meddle with him, in a frenchman's words, C'est la vie.

" Proviamo a salvare questa sera." She muttered to herself. Something might salvage her wreck of an evening. As she made her way over, she noticed the male spy glaring at her. How cute, he thought he could be threatening.

"Buonasera!" She called, mockingly.

" What do you want?" He barked.

" Oh, nowa donta be like that! I amma here at your medics invitation, no? Maybe we cana-"

" I do not have se time to be dealing wiz a lunatic such as yourself." Giulia stuck out her lip.

" Oh, looka at the little Frenchman witha his insults. Isa lunatic supposed to hurt me?" She moseyed forward, coyly draping her arm across his shoulder. He shrugged it off, what a spoilsport. " Dida your little boyfriend not return your affections?" He jumped, glaring at her more. Oh yes, Giulia had seen his eyes flicking back to the australian over and over again. Did he think that would slip by her? Stupid of him.

" He is not my boyfriend, and you have no business in what transpires between us."

" Telling an italiana to backa out of matters of the heart? May as well tella your countrymen to stop sniffing their disgusting cheeses. Everyone thinks of the french asa the love experts, but we italians knowa more than our fair share." She grinned, oh how the frenchman squirmed when she brought up his love life! This was delightful.

" Originally I mistook you for a threat." He began. " Now I realize my mistake and must apologize, as now I see you are nosing more zan a gossiping school girl. Bonsoir." He snapped, and strode off.

"Here am I floating round my tin can

Far above the Moon

Planet Earth is blue

And there's nothing I can do..." Giulia didn't bother to ponder out what the song meant.

Well, the game with the frenchman was done and it had been wonderful to make someone uncomfortable but she had other sports in mind for the night. Sports with much better stakes...

" This song isa depressing." She muttered while she eased the grate of an air vent just outside the cafeteria, and slipped in.

…

Finally, he got his grubby mitts off her. Chloe had been watching the scout attempt to slow dance to a song with Miss Pauling, cringing every time he stepped on her feet. Seriously, first he'd been rude by asking Miss P. to dance when she was CLEARLY busy talking to Chloe ( Who'd graciously apologized for her behavior and offered to try a fresh start), then he had the audacity to bump into her feet the whole time. Probably sweating too, the creep.

But the long instrumental solo at the end cut off, and the song transitioned into a radio add for Mann Co. That was a constant in this universe at least. Good ol' Mann Co, with crappy equipment that you could count on to break as soon as someone was aiming straight for ya. Sure, Redwina and Blutrice Mann were apparently Redmund and Blutarch here, but who cared? At least Mann Co would be the same no matter what universe you were in.

Oh, here comes Pauling, be cool.

" So at long last boston boy let ya' go?"

" Actually, he was really nice. I don't see what you two have against each other so much, you might have a lot to talk about." Chloe saw the male scout miming several obscene things at her over Miss Pauling's head.

" Yeah, I'm sure we'd be best buddies. Look, Miss P."

" Miss Pauling-"

" Miss Pauling I was just thinking that maybe you and I could have dinner."

" We are." Miss Pauling smirked and held up her plate full of potato salad.

" Well, uh yeah sure, but you know, I mean," Oh brilliant fucknuts. This happened every time she tried to bring up dates. It wasn't just ' Hey you're hot, I'm hot, let's do it.', you actually had to hold a conversation here! Plus, she got the feeling Miss Pauling thought she could count Chloe's brain cells on one hand.

After a few more moments of awkward stuttering, she simply lapsed into silence and attacked the potato salad. Sweet Jesus, it was delicious but she still did her best to scowl.

" Look, it's after seven. I need to go see what I can do about washing my shirt, and I'm expecting a report from the TF Industries branch in Argentina. You're not half bad when you're not grabbing my ass." Miss Pauling dumped her plate in the garbage bin next to the door, and sauntered away.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! GAH! Now that smug little bostoner would be able to giggle at her inability to woo the ever attractive Miss P. Chloe saw the scout striding over to her, a smug grin pinned to his idiotic face. At least his nose was still busted, she took pride in that.

" No luck?" He tittered.

" Fuck off, Boston."

" Hey, I told you I've been at this a long time. Miss Pauling won't jus' swoon into your lap like whatever hussies you got in New York-" He was cut off by Chloe's fist ramming itself into his jaw. He dropped to the floor like a sac of bricks.

" You're prettier when yer mouth's closed." She hissed. She was well aware the radio had ceased playing, and felt the stares of everyone else in the caf bearing down on her.

" You know, for a version of me you sure are a bitch!" He replied, wiping blood off his chin.

" Are you so fucking dumb you can't see none of us are you? Same class that's it numbnuts!"

" Even so, you've been on my nerves since the first moment! I still ain't forgiving you for my my fingers!" Scout had hauled himself to his feet and waved his hand in front of Chloe's face. She smacked it down.

" You just pissed cause your precious Pauling prefers my charisma over your…" She paused. " What do you have that's good?" She watched scout's jaw clench.

" Outside. Yard where Miss Pauling's van is. In ten minutes we settle this." He declared, voice so low she could barely hear it. Hocking up a bit one, Chloe spat it on the ground.

" You don't have the balls."

" You don't have any."

" S'that supposed to be an insult? See you there Boston."

Chloe spun on her heel, and rammed through the nearest doors so they clattered shut behind her. Scout turned to face the mix of concerned and blatantly flabbergasted faces of the others in the room.

" What?" He snapped. Soon this would be over, he'd kick the crap out of a girl and not feel bad about it, and that was that. He just hoped it wouldn't be too easy.