Hehehehe…

I love tormenting Fox.

A little examination of friendship.

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"Scotch and Vodka"

A StarFox Adventures Drabble

It was midnight when he got home, stumbling through the threshold. His apartment was dim. The only source of light was moonbeams, streaming in through the windows, and the edges of his furniture glinted in the pale white light.

Fox slouched down onto his dark-upholstered couch. The polished, contemporary leather sighed as he sank into it, and Fox sighed, too. It'd been a long day of training. He closed his eyes. The front of his skull ached and the back of his eyelids burned. He rubbed his temples with two fingers, pressing his lips together.

"It's gotta be easier than this," he moaned. He pressed his forehead into his palms. Boot camp was sheer torture, and today's flight training was filled with arrogant rookies. His mind throbbed with their endless ignorant comments. He sighed. "You'd think they'd have a little respect for the guy teaching them how to fly," he murmured, feeling resigned. His head still ached.

He got up to fix a single malt scotch, his feet dragging as he cross the room to his wet bar. His fingers fumbled with the bottles and tumblers, and he barely managed to get the drink together without dropping something. He plopped back onto his couch, taking a long sip before setting the drink on the coffee table. Oh yeah. He could feel the tension in his temples start to ease up. The spicy warm liquor flowed down to his stomach, and the heat spread through his entire body, tingling all the way up to his head. God yes. He took another desperate gulp, downing the rest of the drink. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, letting it flood his body.

"Doesn't it feel delicious?" she asked, her soft voice melting his heart.

His eyes snapped open. He looked quickly around the moonlit room, confused. Dammit. Now I'm daydreaming about her. He groaned, pressing his fingertips into his temples again. I think I need another scotch. He fixed it, sitting back down, downing the whole thing like a shot. Now the heat warmed him like a blanket. He leaned back against the couch, feeling cozy. That's better.

"Could be even better, you know," she whispered again. Her voice spread through his mind, warm like the whisky.

"Oh yeah?" he mumbled to the empty room, his eyes heavy. He felt so warm.

Her beautiful face swam behind his eyelids. His mind conjured every perfect detail, from her delicately shaped eyebrows to her sweet, grinning lips. "Of course. You know how?"

Even though it was a daydream, his heart pounded and his throat went dry. "How?" he whispered, his breath catching on the word.

Her imagined face inched toward him, getting closer and closer. "Let me show you," she whispered, and he watched her lips form the words. She was so close… So believable… He could almost smell her. She was almost real.

A loud knock sounded at the door.

He jumped straight up, sliding off the couch cushion. He flailed as he fell to the floor, knocking his scotch glass off the coffee table. Luckily it landed on his shag area rug, thumping instead of breaking. His ass thumped, too.

"Who is it?" he called, his voice cracking. He winced as he got to his feet, rubbing the base of his tail.

"Hey, man, it's Falco. Let me in."

He dragged over to the door, opening it, wincing at the bright light of the hallway. "What are you doing here? It's almost one in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah." Falco pushed by him, heading straight for the bar. "Don't remind me." He poured himself a glass of vodka. A full glass. Fox stared at it in horror.

"Don't you think that's a lot?"

Falco took deep gulps. "Not nearly enough," he coughed, shooting the last bit back. Fox stumbled over there and took the bottle out of his hands before he could pour another. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself," Fox snapped. "This stuff isn't cheap."

Falco rolled his eyes, putting the glass in the sink. "Whatever." He stalked over to the couch and sprawled on it. Then he groaned. "Holy shit this is comfortable."

"I think that's the vodka talking," mumbled Fox as he walked over, sprawling out beside him.

The two of them took a deep breath, then sighed.

"Flight training sucked today," grumbled Falco.

"Tell me about it," Fox groaned. "I hate rookies."

"You're too nice to 'em. Gotta be more of a hard-ass."

Fox looked at the ceiling. "I'm terrible at that."

"I know." Falco grinned. "Your ass is too fluffy." He nudged his friend in the ribs, biting back a chuckle.

Fox scoffed. "How's your ass any better with all those feathers?"

Falco laughed so hard he started to cough. "Damn it, don't make me laugh when I've been drinking!" Then he started choking, and Fox sputtered, doubling over in hysterics.

"Don't drink all my vodka next time, you idiot!" His eyes were tearing up.

"Stop being such a wise-ass!"

By this point they were rolling off the couch. Then they started punching each other, which only made them laugh harder. It was several minutes before either of them calmed down enough to speak.

Fox sighed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"So, Falco," he coughed. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, man," whined Falco, trying to be as manly as possible. "The worst date ever. That's why."

Fox frowned, sitting back on the shag rug. "What happened?"

Falco pressed his forehead into his palms. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on. You gotta tell me now."

Falco shook his head. "Too much shame for one bird to handle."

Fox groaned. "Just tell me."

"Fine," he snapped. He buried his face deeper into his hands. "I stood up the wrong girl."

Fox frowned. The whisky was still making his brain foggy. "… What?"

"I had two dates planned for tonight, okay? And one of the girls was way hot. So I was gonna go out with her, and leave the other one behind… but I messed up."

Fox blinked. "… Falco …"

"I knew you were gonna judge me," he moaned. "That's why I didn't want to say anything."

"Did you go through with it?

Falco looked up at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Did you go out with the … um … the other girl?"

"Yeah," Falco sighed. He buried his face in his hands again.

"And what happened that made it suck so bad? I mean, aside from her not being … as hot?"

Falco looked up at his friend again, shamefaced. "I saw her when we were out. The other girl. I saw her."

Fox's mouth fell open.

"Yeah," Falco moaned. "And she saw me, too. That's what made it suck."

"… What happened when she saw you?"

"Oh, man, it was so bad," he moaned softly, like it was painful to say. "She looked over at us, and, god, she was so pretty, all dolled up and everything. She got all dolled up just for my sorry ass to forget about her … and then there I was, out with this girl who couldn't even hold a candle to her … and she stared at us, straight into my eyes, for an hour, I swear it was an hour before she looked away, and I could just see how hurt she was, it was written all over her face." He groaned into his palms. "I'm such an idiot," he said, his voice muffled.

Fox was silent for a moment, staring at his friend. Falco was a person who, under normal, sober circumstances, would never open up about something like this. And Fox was a person who, under normal, sober circumstances, would never let Falco live something like this down.

But tonight, Fox reached over and wrapped an arm around his buddy's shoulders, and said: "Hey, it's gonna be okay. Just tell her you're sorry. Explain yourself. See if she'll give you another chance."

Falco was still shaking his head. "She's too good of a girl. She won't go for me again, not after that."

Fox didn't give up. "Just try it," he said. "What have you got to lose? And next time, just schedule one date. You gotta leave some ladies for the rest of us," he finished, grinning.

Falco glanced over at him. "Some ladies? You can't even handle one."

"Hey!" Fox shoved him good-naturedly. "Not true!"

"Definitely true." He was serious. Fox stared at him.

"How?"

"Man, Krystal digs you, and you can't even handle her. You're done for if you can't get the girl who mutually digs you."

Fox felt his face heating up. "You don't know what you're saying. She's never said anything like that to me."

Falco scoffed. "Guys and girls aren't so different, you know. If you won't tell her you like her, what makes you think she'll tell you? No one wants to get rejected." He sighed. "Something that was painfully obvious to me tonight."

Fox looked down at the fallen whisky glass, which lay at his feet. "But what if she doesn't? I mean, what if I'm the one getting rejected?"

"What'd you just say to me again? Oh yeah. 'What have you got to lose?' That's it."

The boys looked at each other earnestly, sincerely. Fox nodded.

"Guess I'm a hypocrite if I don't follow my own advice."

"You bet," murmured Falco, punching him in the ribs.

Fox grunted. He leaned over, picking up the tumbler. "I've got to go to sleep," he groaned.

"Yeah, bro. Me too. Can I crash here?"

Fox sighed. "Sure." He got to his feet. "Take the couch. I'll go get you a blanket."

Falco got up, sitting back down on the couch, and when he looked up at Fox, his face was blank. His eyes were warm with his rare expression of deep friendship. It was the true nature of their relationship, and Fox knew it was always there… just usually hidden beneath layers and layers of bravado.

"Thanks," Falco said. "Really. Thanks." And Fox knew he wasn't talking about the vodka, or the offer of a place to spend the night. He was talking about everything they'd ever shared, every moment they'd ever truly been there for each other. He was talking about the solid thread of brotherhood that ran underneath all of their interactions.

"Anytime," Fox murmured.

And he meant it.

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Fin.

I love examining characters/relationships. :3

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