A/N: Alexa needs tequila and stat. Doug needs to relax. Will Project Miran Mezcal end up happily?

Warning: drinking and swears. You'd think Frye would show up, but no. Set post game, with spoilers/sorrow inherent to that period.

All the good bits belong to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT (who also are working big on Breath of the Wild, oh can you not stand it?). The story references my other Alexa & Doug stories but you don't need to read them. And a shout out for my OC Lila, just a skell fuel station attendant with a blue speech bubble and a shady past.

Things were confused in his bed, that was the real problem. Sometimes he had company, and that was pretty fun. Sometimes he gave his bed to a guest, while he rode the couch. He needed a bigger couch, that was for sure, otherwise it was cool. Sometimes he was alone, and it could be lonely or it could be relaxing, depending. Sometimes the bed was empty, which was fine, because then he'd be busy with something elsewhere, even occasionally busy with someone elsewhere. Usually something, to be honest. And sometimes he wasn't alone, but it wasn't company.

It was the last thing that had really pissed off the girl he'd had as company most recently. Woman, excuse me. Well, we all know Mira didn't lack for dinosaurs. Maybe if he'd dated women and not girls, or at least thought of them that way, things'd be better. Probably not. The woman had been beautiful, all legs and long black hair, and playful, and he'd had a really good feeling about her. He'd enjoyed talking to her, listening to her. He'd kind of felt a little hopeful around her. Until he'd kissed her one morning and apologized for having to shoot out so early, on account of a breakfast date, and she had gone instantly furious.

In retrospect, there had been … there might have been signs. She'd laughed when he'd made jokes, which might count as a bad sign because almost no one liked his jokes. Her interests were fairly different from his simpler tastes (because if a movie didn't have at least one explosion, he was less than enthused). Mostly it had been that she'd gotten impatient when he'd been busy in the evening, even when he made time to have dinner with her at least. Busy with anything: work, visiting Lin and the 'tato (and having a snack, let's be honest), the small side business he was developing. Yeah, that business, that was the real thing, taking up his extra time and interest.

No, dammit, the real thing was that sometimes, at night, he'd …

"Gimme a tequila. And hold the worm, because those I got already and all on two legs!"

He didn't even look over. He'd chosen Rosemoss because he just didn't have the energy to argue anything with anyone tonight. The bar here wasn't that crowded and certainly wasn't that loud. Rosemoss specialized in homey atmosphere and surprisingly good diner fare. If you wanted rowdy, there were several other places to go first (pro tip: if Frye was there, you'd found the spot). That said, they were a business, and they had a bar, and if a patron wanted to spend their credits exclusively on alcohol, they'd pour until someone got uncomfortable. He supposed that in a second he'd have to step in and babysit. Not that he was sober enough at the moment, but you did what you had to in order to keep NLA safe.

"Dougie!" His second was over. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Drinking. Why are you here, Alexa?"

"Trying to drink. Do you know, the Repenta has enough vodka to float the Ma-non ship but can't even keep a full bottle of tequila for Outfitters in need?"

"Yeah, I'm crying for you."

"Well, I'm resourceful. And I found you! Bonus!" The bartender had gingerly placed a shot glass of pale yellowish liquid that resembled tequila in front of the red-haired woman. Alexa patted the bar stool next to her and smiled.

Doug shifted over calmly, catching the bartender's eye to place his own order. Another beer and a bump. Because he hadn't been joking when he'd told her his purpose. Alexa downed her shot, ordered another, and took a deep breath. He could see that her eyes were practically glowing, but beyond that he had no idea what her mood was. He must have been drinking more than he'd realized.

"Here I am, in a crisis I tell ya, and the Repenta fails me!"

"Keep it down, Alexa."

"Fails me!" she said, in a piercing stage whisper. An improvement, he supposed. "But no problem is too tricky for old Alexa! You can count on her to find the solution! Except when you don't really care to."

"So it's work stuff."

"The worst. I'm telling ya," she repeated, "I am about beside myself. I just don't know." Her voice had trailed to nothing, and she'd downed the next shot, playing with the empty glass, slowly spinning it along the bar and leaving a trail of small rings in the oily polish.

Doug looked really hard at Alexa, trying to size her up. It crossed his few remaining unimpaired brain cells that he'd seen her angry and excited and worried and joyous, sloppy giddy riotous joyous, but he'd never seen her sad. This looked a little like sad. He'd never thought about that, Alexa and sad. What kind of friend never considered that a person could be sad?

"Um, are you sad?" he asked, and then instantly wished that somebody had had the kindness to shoot him a few minutes earlier. Mediator material he was not. Certainly not when he was this drunk.

"What? No! No! I'm furious! And irate! Righteously irate! Yeah, that's what I am. Another!" she waved to the bartender, who responded with another tequila, but very slowly. Yup, they probably both needed to leave soon, before the management made a polite suggestion.

"Sure. Come on. Let's go hang at my place."

"You got tequila?"

"I got beer."

Alexa heaved a great sigh. "Okay, but only because I like you. And because this is NOT TEQUILA!"

Doug hushed her, paid their tabs ("I'll pay you back, really, next time!" "Shhh, s'kay." "Thanks!" "Shhh."), and they made their retreat. As they wobbled gracefully down Melville Street, avoiding passing humans and xenos by the barest of margins, Alexa kept muttering about the lack of tequila in New Los Angeles.

"The name! The name alone means that we really need to address this issue. It's racism, I tell you! Eurocentrism. New Los Angeles, Dougie! Not New Vodkagrad!"

"Frye keeps that place in the black. Of course they're going to have…"

"You know what would be awesome?!" She pivoted in front of Doug and grabbed the front of his t-shirt, shaking him lightly. "Mezcal! We need native Miran mezcal. With native Miran worms!"

"God, Alexa." Doug had to laugh. "You'd need a tank the size of a bus."

Alexa was focused, deep in thought. "There's something that kind of looks like agave in Oblivia. We need to study this. But I don't trust the Repenta. They'll just make something boring. I got it!" Her head shot up. She shook him again. "Professor B.! He's crazy brilliant enough to pull it off."

"Just crazy."

She was already backtracking toward the industrial district. "We don't have a minute to lose!"

"Oh, no." Doug had had enough. He put on some speed and caught up with her easily, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her back in the other direction. "This can hold. Trust me."

"Not you too." Her eyes snapped at him.

"We will achieve mezcal, Alexa, but not tonight. Tonight, we're going back to my place and emptying my mini-fridge."

"No one trusts me. No one gets it. You all want to stop me and for no reason!"

"Alexa, we're too drunk to start anything."

"You're drunk, I'm angry! With justification, and you're giving me more." Her face turned vicious. "I bet you've been drinking because you just want that dream about Lao again."

Doug dropped his hands to his side. She could have punched him in the gut and it couldn't have begun to hurt like this. He was glad they'd reached a dark part of the street because he didn't want anyone to see his face.

Alexa took a deep, ragged breath. "Oh god, Doug! I'm sorry!"

"S'okay," he muttered.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry! Oh god, Doug! I'm sorry!" She was holding on to his shirt again, but she wasn't shaking him, just trying to hold on, like she was afraid he'd float away.

"S'okay," he repeated. So original, the two of them, he thought bitterly.

"It's not." Did he mention, so original? Alexa leaned her head against his chest. "You're about my best friend, and I said something unforgivable. I'm sorry."

"Probably true, though," he said sadly.

"Doesn't matter, and if it is, that's your choice. If it is. You've got your reasons and no one can say a thing about it. I'm sorry."

He sighed, and gave her a loose hug that could have bent normal ribs. "It's okay. Really. You aren't the first one to mention it."

"Tell me their names and I'll mess them up for ya." She gave a hiccup that should have been a laugh but sounded a lot like tears. She still had her face against his chest, so he couldn't be sure. Except his shirt felt a little damp. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. They never apologized, but you have. So it's okay." Because, yeah, for three weeks he'd hoped the beautiful, intelligent woman with the shining black hair would apologize or at least talk about what she'd hissed at him from the comfort of his bed. But she'd wouldn't even give him the time of day, just told him coldly that she was done trying to fix him. Totally unfair. He hadn't asked anyone to fix him.

He patted Alexa's back. "Come on, Alexa." He paused. "Why are you losing it?"

Alexa pressed a little closer into him. He had to lean in to hear her, she was so quiet. "They took me off Speedy. Permanently."

"Aw shit." No wonder she was plastered and striking out and generally emotional. She loved that prototype skell project more than anything he'd ever seen. If skells were her thing, Speedy lit her up like no other. "Come on, let's get back and you can tell Uncle Dougie everything." He cleared his throat, surprised he'd said that. Different times, different tears, skinned knees and missing stuffies. He cleared his throat again.

They were a somewhat subdued twosome, sitting on his couch, drinking beer and talking. Actually, Alexa was talking and gesturing, Doug worked on beer and encouragements. It came down to that last outing, when they'd accidentally tangled with a smallish tyrant. Well, small compared to other things wandering Mira, but still the size of a few angry redwood trees duct taped together. And, yes, Speedy the Skell had taken a few hits, but they hadn't been looking for trouble. She'd gotten a few sharp comments, but she hadn't seen the demotion coming.

"Yesterday, my card was refused. I asked, and they said something about restructuring teams. I tried not be get too stressed. I mean, Tika's card still lit up green, so, you know, I'd just be shuffled. Then today, some shirt from Sakuraba sent me a note, I'm off and permanently. They didn't appreciate my treating Speedy as my own personal skell.

"I've never done that! I asked, I always asked, and not just asked. I got permission too! I kept it safe even under the worst situations. I pushed it, sure, I'm SUPPOSED to push it, see what it can do. That's what they pay me for. That's what they're supposed to want ...

"But I'm off the project. And now I'll never get to see what Speedy can become!" Her voice rose to almost a wail, and Doug handed her another napkin to dab her eyes. Because, yes, she'd burst into tears early on and wasn't trying to stop anymore.

"Idiots," Doug muttered darkly.

"Worse than that! I can't stand to think that Speedy's going to suffer! Yeah, okay, I mean, there are other techs that can work on him, but that tyrant, it opened my eyes. I had so many ideas, so many things to try! Speedy deserves everything he can get and I just don't know if they understand it."

"You could tell them."

She snorted through her tears. "I'm off the project, Doug. Off. Speedy's still a prototype, and no one's supposed to talk about it to any outsiders. Hell, I shouldn't be talking to you."

"Screw that."

"Yeah, whatever. Still, it means I can't tell them anything, and worse, they can't listen. Best chance, I suppose I could stand outside the locked door and scream suggestions at the top of my lungs."

"I'll buy you a megaphone."

"Or! Or! I could hire a skywriter to put up skematics!" She giggled.

"Nopon fireworks."

"Orphe graffiti artists!"

"Count me in. I'm good with spray paint." They were both laughing now. When they'd calmed down, Doug said, more seriously, "Honestly, Alexa, we were sent into that mess by BLADE. Orders straight from Eleonora. We did good, we saved the neck of that Nopon trader."

"Nopons don't have necks."

"What I'm saying is, you could get some push from authorities to get back on the project. Get the Blond Menace to put in a word. Or Tatsu could write something official."

Alexa snorted again. "Tatsu?! Get real, Doug. No one listens to that walking carbohydrate."

Doug shook his head. "You'd be surprised. BLADE is worried about Nopon right now, and the furballs take him seriously as their ambassador. The xeno community carries weight. You could get their Orphe rep to put in several good words. Plus Koko. She liked you."

"She called me crazy."

"She meant it nicely."

"I don't want to make a fuss. I don't want to be whiney. I know that they've got a plan and…"

"Two words: f%# ing idiots. Me, I won't be comfortable using Speedy for reals until you give it the green light. Nobody else. Alexa Approved or I'm not riding in it. You could trademark that." He laid his arm across the back of the couch and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Seriously, Alexa, make the fuss. You owe it to New LA."

"There was that sandstorm too…"

"Didn't show up on Frontier Nav until it was already there."

"You checked?"

He shrugged. "I felt guilty."

Alexa looked down at her hands and continued quietly. "And the telethia."

"What?" Lucky he hadn't had a swallow of beer, because that would have been ugly.

"You slept through that."

Doug scratched his sideburns carefully. "Well, um, couldn't have been much or I'd have woken up, I suppose. Alexa, teams go up to the Roost and they bump into tyrants and sandstorms, even when they're lucky enough to get warning signs. And we drop into a fall and some of the stupider ones take their skells into waterfalls, for, um, reasons, but they do. Everything you did was going to happen sooner or later, and I'd rather have you check it out first. Just not with me jammed in your lap." Yeah, that had been an adventure, very stomach churning and cramped.

Alexa sighed and leaned against Doug. He knew she was going to fall asleep with him as a largish pillow. She had that amazing skill, dropping off instantly the moment she decided to. He sat still and didn't think about anything, except maybe whether he'd try to sleep even though he was due for a bad time. But of course he'd try. One thing he'd learned on Earth: guys who tried to avoid dreams by avoiding sleep always ended up in with a medical discharge, if they weren't in jail. Or dead. Being a robot changed nothing. He'd get some sleep, wake up shaking, and maybe get a few more hours before morning. It wasn't really all that late. He supposed it showed how efficiently they'd gone about their drinking.

"I'm not going to do it, make a fuss, you know? The customer has their reasons, and a BLADE doesn't argue with orders." She sounded sad but determined.

He snapped his eyes open. Huh, must have drifted off himself. "I suppose."

"I'm right."

"It still stinks for everybody. You do a good job." He paused. "Tell you what. How about I ask the Commander, nothing official, just a kind of what the hell? If he says shut up, I shut up. If he decides to push, better for New LA."

"Not your business, you know that."

"I'm the guy in the skell when something goes wrong. Definitely my business."

Alexa sighed. "I can't stop you. If you think…"

"Well, I'll see. Maybe I won't."

Alexa lifted her head and looked at him. "That gives me an idea though. I'll ask Lila."

"What would the queen of crappy coffee know?"

"Psssh. The Ma-non like it. And I've seen you drink it."

"What good will that do?"

Alexa sat up, looking focused. "She's got some weird connection with Sakuraba, something sketchy from back on the Whale. And from early days here. He set her up with the original refueling station, you know that?"

"News to me. Well, now she's the queen of sketchy coffee. Why her?"

"She's not BLADE, I'd just be going on a rant if anyone hears me, and she never lies to me."

Now it was Doug's turn to make a rude noise. "You're too trusting, Alexa. I'd bet money Lila's an international drug dealer gone into retirement or something. No one nice gets a hit put on them. But, yeah, sure, you do that."

"Thanks, Doug. You always give me the best ideas." Alexa smiled at him, not her fullest effort, but genuine. It made the night a little better, and made him worry less about what any other woman in his future had to say.

And if his bed was confused, that made three of them. The bed, the couch, and him.

A/N: This story was supposed to go certain places, AAAAAAaaaaand no. I swear, someday! Someday! Or not, probably not, because if they're this drunk and frustrated and all we get is talking, it is not going to happen. Eldest Child declares that, and EC is the expert. But you never know. Maybe Doug will show up with an infant in a baby sling about 10 months after the organic redemption happens, and people will be all, "Aww, how sweet, he's babysitting for Alexa. I wonder who the father is." Until they register the kid as Tiffany Barrett for preschool. [And now I've written the fiction that demonstrates this point, uploaded whenever…]

If you wonder why Ares is useless against things with ether resist, it is because Sakuraba NEVER LISTENED TO ALEXA. Next up: Lila has a solution, and Alexa is an ungrateful Outfitter.