Star Crossed [an old and terrible Star Fox fanfic]

C3 - Dancing With Myself

Days at the Academy melted away like butter on a hot pan, being routine and somewhat hazy. Flight classes in the morning lifted fox in both the literal, physical sense, but also in his emotions. He loved to feel the sun on his face as he flew around the city and campus, or the pitter of the rain against the windshield when the weather wasn't so favorable. He went high, too... sometimes higher than the clouds. It all looked so small from up there.

"Once you see the planet's curve, that's plenty high. You can come down now," the tanuki instructor directed.

"Over already?" Fox asked, starting to lean the nose down.

"Yeah. You've been doing great, Mr. McCloud," the instructor complimented. "Got it in your blood, I'd bet."

"I love every second," Fox stated. He got to the runway, and parked, waving goodbye.

"Congratulations, Mr. O'Donnell," another instructor meanwhile said in a peppy tone. "You've earned yourself your license."

"Finally, heh," Wolf sighed. It all paid off now.

"Step inside, Wolf, take your photo," the tanuki instructor hastened, leaving Fox. "Have a good day, McCloud."

The vulpine stood alone, in the rain, looking behind him, at the wet-glossed runway behind him, and at the Academy ships that had both just landed. He sighed, and smiled. This was going well so far. Maybe Wolf would show around at the bar and grill tonight. Bill might, too. He felt a little sorry for Falco, who still stuck around, despite the circumstances.

Not this time, though. After agreeing to meet Bill and Wolf, Falco declined. "I'll be sticking around my room tonight," the bird explained. "Might have someone over."

• • ● • •

Fox and Bill chatted as they waited around for Wolf, who seemed to be late to coming around.

"Wonder where he is," Bill softly barked, checking his watch.

"Slow at flying?" Fox chuckled as he shrugged.

"He said he'd walk over," the bulldog explained.

"Maybe he's running late for another reason," Fox speculated. "I'd hate to miss my license-earning celebration if I were him."

Suddenly, Wolf himself burst through the doors. "Heya, fellas," he chortled, staggering over. He limped onto the barstool, and thunked a six pack of fancily-branded beer onto the table... though half of the bottles were gone.

"Hell, did you party without us?" Fox asked, seeing these absent bottles.

"Hah! As if. I saved a couple for ya," he urged, giving a couple of them off.

"I can't, military orders," Bill explained.

"And I just don't drink," the vulpine added.

"Bhah... suit yourself, parade-rainer," O'Donnell chuffed. "One more for me, then. Hagh!" he guffawed, popping the cap off of one. The bartender gave the stink-eye to someone slogging down something the bar didn't serve, but didn't want to cause any trouble.

"Hey... did you drink all those yourself?" Fox now asked, shocked.

"Hell yeah," Wolf cackled. "I got my damn license, I've been waiting for this for all my life. I got my license," he repeated, swigging once again afterwards, and exhaling refreshedly.

"You're drunk, then, Wolf," Bill now started to get wary as well. His statement was evidently true.

"Aww, well. We can just walk back to the dorms when we're done. Maybe I could crash at yours, Bill," the wolf chortled.