Fan Fiction ❯ Stroke of Luck ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN/Warnings: Language, violence, and slash ahead.

Genre(s): Angst, romance ,drama, AUish.

Setting: one year after the war with Andross

Song Credits: Stroke of Luck (c) Garbage

Additional AN: Flames will be put up for public humiliation or ignored. If you must flame, calmly explain any problems you have backed up with examples from the fic. It is far harder to find fault with an eloquent flame than one that reads like: "S*%t!! Moth*&r F^#@ker!!!! $*#(%&&*%$$$!!!!!! @##$!!!! You are *(&@*^!!!!!!" You get the idea. (Plus, it just makes you sound like an immature jack ass and encourages the writer.)

PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE

*Hanging by threads of palest silver....

I could have stayed that way forever.

Bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me.

Nothing could ever seem to touch me.

I lose what I love most.......*

a random Wednesday in the middle of summer, Cornerian Air Force Base, Peace Keeper's division

Bill Grey stepped into the large room, which by now would horrify a claustrophobic into hyperventilation and fits of arrhythmia on sight. Squeezing his way through the crowd, the husky's mind was running through all the scenarios of mischief he could possibly get to come to fruition within a period of one hour. Lunch break didn't last that long. Scanning the crowd for a sign of anyone he knew, his eyes came to rest on the furry orange-red head of Fox McCloud. The young canine was busily preparing a report of how the mission to clean the waters of Zoness was going, occasionally glancing up once in awhile to whatever it was that caught his attention, before returning to his report with a little smile.

Bill scanned the crowd, smirking when his eyes came to rest on just who it was that was keeping the young fox from his work. Too easy. With that thought in his head, and an even better one about how many ways he could tease Fox about his little crush, the mutt once again struggled to get through the crushing confines of the crowd, and stumbled out, nearly falling over another dog in his way. Bill muttered his apologies and stepped around the borzoi, practically skipping with anticipation as he ran to his best friend's side and plopped himself unceremoniously on his desk.

"Taken," he said simply, trying to stifle his laughter.

Fox jumped, his pen slipping across the rest of the form before hitting the waxy mahogany top of his desk. He blushed, letting out a seldom-used curse before pulling open a desk drawer and fishing out a bottle of white-out. Fox dropped his eyelashes, trying to hide the blush before Bill caught on. "Eer- what do you mean?"

"Like I said. Taken. I think you'll have to find somebody else, buddy."

Bill watched with no small amount of amusement as Fox's blush turned a deeper scarlet. Fox dabbed the white-out on the unsightly black slash across is report, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe if he'd pretend to ignore Bill, he'd go away. No such luck as Bill continued his assault.

"Hey, but good choice, buddy. A looker, I guess....." Bill trailed off, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, slightly mortified at his choice of words. Fox however wasn't paying much attention. He splattered white-out on the form with a vengeance, nearly covering up the writing with the blemish His face was contorted in agitation, his small muzzle scrunched up in anger. Uh, oh. Went a step too far here.....

"Bill, I'm busy right now. I don't have the time for this. We're just friends, and we aren't even attracted to each other. Just leave it at that, okay?" Fox said, sounding almost but not quite exasperated. He could still feel his face burning, annoyed at his own inability to stifle his embarrassment.

Bill frowned at this turn of events. What did Fox mean, they were just friends? He could've sworn.... "But you two always hang out together..."

"Bill, we're friends. That's it," Fox said while cleaning off the last of his pen mark. He placed the cap back onto the long-suffering bottle of white-out and tossed it into his top desk drawer, slamming it closed a little too noisily, the desk rattling, making Bill jump a bit. He had definitely gone too far here, and Fox's fur was beginning to bristle. When Fox got pissed, it was kind of cute, like a baby kitten getting miffed. Until you got twenty little razor sharp claws in a soft spot, that is. Being Bill, his curiosity overrode his sense of survival, and he pushed the matter further.

"But Fox, I always thought you two would end up together. I mean, you two are so close, even closer than you and I, and we've been friends since we were pups. Hell, I think everybody around here thought you two were in love....."

Fox's paw skidded across the page for a second time that day as Bill's words slowly suck into his skull. Everybody??!!!! Why hadn't anyone said anything to him about it before? Fox licked his now dry lips as the new revelation sunk in.. "But, Bill.... He's a guy!!!"

"Gee, I hadn't noticed. So?"

Fox licked his lips again. Was this really happening? Did everyone at the base think he was..... that way? Not that there would be anything wrong if he was. But he wasn't. Even though he hadn't ever dated a girl. Or a boy, for that matter. Living during a war mean hell on your sex life, which usually meant soldiers didn't even have one. (A paw and Play Fur did not count.) But anyway, he wasn't. At all. (Not that he had a problem with it.) Quietly assuring himself he still liked girls, Fox finally raised blue gaze to Bill's eyes.

"But, Bill..... I'm not.....gay." Fox insisted, the last word coming out in a whisper as if it were some kind of unspeakable obscenity. His blush ran hotter, and he ducked his head slightly before staring up at Bill with an unwavering blue gaze after getting his blush seemingly pretty much under control. His pride was at stake, damn it. Where in space had everyone gotten that idea.......

Bill's eyebrows shot up. "You're not? Whoa, sorry. I'll totally stop teasing you about it." Bill then looked away, yet again scratching the back of his head uncomfortably, hiding an embarrassed blush. He mumbled an apology and a good-bye before jumping off Fox's desk, hurriedly walking away and disappearing into the crowd. Fox leaned back in his plush chair, sighing. He once again pulled out the heavily-used white-out, and set about to cleaning up his report. As he slid the brush across the ugly black line, he let his eyes travel up again.

Across the crowded room was Falco Lombardi, his bright blue wings wrapped around Katt Monroe. The pink feline was giggling, and trying her damnedest to cover it up with one delicate white paw. Falco was looking down at her, a slight smile curving the edges of his beak. Fox quickly finished touching up his report and bolted for the door, wondering why there was moisture in his eyes and why it wouldn't stop.

Fox ran down a corridor that led to General Pepper's office. He struggled to gain his composure, as well as settle his little sexual crisis. How could everyone think that of him? Was it just because he never brought a girl around him and never made passes at any of the girl in the office? His father had a problem with women until he had met Fox's mother, and nobody had ever questioned which way the Great James McCloud swung. ...Did they? Fox couldn't remember. He brought a paw up to his face, childishly wiping tears off his face with the back of a paw, wondering the whole time why he was crying n the first place. The last scene played in his brain over and over again. Falco and Katt. Falco hugging Katt. Sure, he hadn't kissed her, but the emotions were in his eyes. Love. Why did that hurt him? He had known about Falco and Katt since the war ended. He thought everybody did......but still.... Why did he and Falco spend so much time together anyway? They had done several things together... but not the things normal guys did with each other. They didn't watch football, or talk about how hot Miss Lee looked in her new miniskirt.... They talked, mostly....

Fox trudged down the long hall, feeling more confused by the moment. And wondering why he felt betrayed by Falco's love for Katt. New tears came as he dwelled on the subject, becoming consumed by it until a girl's voice broke into his thoughts, and Fox realized how close he'd come to plowing over her.

"Fox! .....Fox? Are you crying?"

Fox looked up into the clear blue eyes of Fay Dog. He bit his lip, wiping away the last of his tears. This would be a perfect chance to settle the matter. He hated the idea of using Fay, but the sooner he could assure himself, the better. She had been his childhood friend, and helped him through several problems, even helping him find a good therapist when his father had died. She could help him through this. It was true he had never been attracted to her, and he had thought it was the same way for her. Just friends. So, if he tried to take it a step further, what would happen? He eyed her critically, wishing and hoping for something he could find appealing.

She was two years younger than him, only seventeen, and still looked as if she were a young pre-teen girl developing into a woman. Her chest was small, but a good size for her body, the hips slim and just a bit curvy. Her fluffy white ears were quite large for a poodle and took a bit getting used to, but Fox had done that his whole life. In fact, it was her ears that had gotten his attention as a six-year-old. Fox smiled. This was Fay. This was his friend. She was sunny and sweet, without a bad-tempered bone in her body. She hadn't lifted a finger to hurt anyone, not even in the war and he admired her for that. Since the war ended she had moved to Corneria and had started working for the base. She had a bit of an attitude at times, and a rather short temper, but other than that Fox enjoyed her company immensely.

"Fox? I asked if you were okay," she asked again, her soft voice ripping him out of his silent reverie. He looked up at her hopeful face, his resolved hardened. He would ask her out. In the long run, it would be healthy for both of them. A tale to tell their grand pups. Fox stiffened a moment, his stomach revolting a bit at the thought of having children with Fay. For the Goddess' sakes, Fox!! She's a girl, you like her, so stop it and ask her out!!!!

"Eer...." Fox trailed off, suddenly apprehensive. He swallowed a few times to get his stomach under control and stared down at his feet, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead, tiny rivulets running down his face. "Doyouwannagooutwithme?"

"Huh?"

"Do you, er, ah, I mean.... I'm asking if you'd like to... goonadatewithme."

"Fox, are you trying to ask me out?"

"Eer- yeh."

Fay grinned, beaming a sunny smile from ear to fluffy ear and Fox found a smile creeping up on his own cheeks. He had made the right decision They'd go out, have a good time, and perhaps several others fallowing. And no one would ever think he was that way again.

"What time were you thinking?"

Fox swallowed again. This was the first time he'd ever asked a girl out. What was the time people usually went out? Friday? Saturday? Eight o'clock? Nine o'clock? He couldn't remember. Suddenly, feeling Fay's questioning eyes on him, he mumbled out Friday at eight o'clock and she beamed again.

"Okay. I'll met you at your apartment," She then placed a finger over his lips, though he made no move to speak, giggling. "Don't, Fox. Don't tell me. I want this to be a secret." With that, she pecked him a chaste kiss on the cheek, having to stand up on her toes to do it, and then skipped down the hallway, humming a little tune her grandmother had taught to her, fluffy ears and tail bouncing along the way.

Fox smiled, a sense of security settling over him. His stomach was still acting up, but Fox chalked it up to not taking time for his lunch break yet. He knew now that what everyone thought had just been a freak accident, and he was going to prove them wrong Friday at eight. Hell, if he had to, he propose to her in front of everyone at the office. Whoa, Fox. Let's not go that far yet. You haven't even been on your first date with her yet. Fox shrugged off the little voice and smiled. He was sure he'd enjoy her company. She was mild and sweet-tempered, and he was sure he'd have a good time. He would have a good time, damn it. He was determined to.

Nodding to himself, he knocked on General Pepper's door to present his report.

CHAPTER TWO

*Did you know I was lost until you found me?

A stroke of luck or a gift from God.

The hand of fate or Devil's claws.

From below or saints above,

You came to me.*

Later that day, Fox's room at the barracks, Cornerian Air Force Base

Fox hummed happily to himself as he pulled out a snappy ensemble for his Friday night date. It wasn't too dressy, quite casual. Spread on his bed was a teal t-shirt, and pair of khakis, and a white long-sleeved shirt, topped of with a pair of black sneakers. True, was one of the more informal things he owned, but put together get him a rather snappy appearance. The rest of the clothes he owned were thrown carelessly on the floor of the small room. This was his first date and he intended to make it perfect. So, after countless hours scrutinizing everything housed in his closet, he finally settled on the apparel laid out on his bed, and was quite pleased by it.

He finished folding his clothing and put the outfit away for safe keeping until Friday night. He then began gathering up the assorted shirts, pants, shoes, and other items of clothing on the carpet when a low whistle and a voice behind him nearly make him jump out of his fur.

"Jeez! What happened here?"

Fox's fur stood straight up. No. It can't be. Swallowing his heart (which had decided it would take up residence in his throat), he slowly turned around, his heart now choosing to go into fits of arrhythmia. Sweat broke out on his brow (which was thankfully hidden by his thick fur), and licking his now dry lips, Fox wheeled around. "Falco."

"Hey, Fox. I came to see if we were still on for Friday night. I didn't expect to encounter Lylat War II."

Fox blushed a little, and eyed Falco's person critically. He was clad in a simple thin black shirt, the first few buttons undone, revealing a plume of baby blue soft feathers. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up and it was untucked, hanging over a pair a rather tight blue jeans. Falco's emerald eyes glittered as they surveyed the room, as he carelessly ran his long, thin fingers through his unruly blue bangs that flopped in his face. His soft green eyes swept around the room before finally settling on Fox, who felt an electric current run through his belly. It always happened whenever Falco was around him, even thought it meant nothing.

Time slowed to a crawl as the pair stared at each other, and then all at once they noticed they were staring, blushed and averted their eyes. Fox stared at the heap of clothes on the floor and nervously chewed his bottom lip, wondering what in the hell to say to get out of being caught ogling a best friend.

"Eerm, so.... nice weather we're having, huh?"

Hell, that sucked.

Falco turned back to look at him after his eyes toured the room once more, a kind of playfulness seeping into him. A tiny, shy grin broke out on his face, which made Fox's insides turn into goo, that electric shudder running through him again, but Fox was too caught up in his embarrassment and Falco's eyes to take much notice. Only when they were alone, did Falco let his guard down and let his true self shine through the facade, and Fox briefly wondered why, although more clearheaded thoughts were harder to think at that moment while he was mesmerized by the vision of jade eyes before him.

"So, Fox, I asked you what happened here," Falco repeated, blinking slowly.

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot. I gotta date with Fay," Fox piped up with sudden excitement He began gathering up his clothes, turning his back to Falco. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice the change in his friend's demeanor. Falco stiffened slightly, his mask slipping back into place.

"Oh."

Fox smiled, whipping around to face his friend, still unsuspecting. "If you'll excuse me, Falco, I gotta go wash a few things. I'll talk to you later, kay?

"Sure."

"Great!"

Fox walked briskly away, leaving Falco surveying his room once again. All the familiar things that made up Fox were there, lying in a boyish mess. His jean jacket hanging at an odd angle on the back of a wooden chair, rumpled clothes hanging out of his too-small dresser, his flute case laying near his unmade bed, posters of singing idols and hot new celebrities pinned up on the wall; everything a you would find in a normal nineteen-year-old boy's room.

And yet all of it was undeniably Fox's, mundane little things that meant so much to him. A large picture of his father hung on the wall, looking smooth and fresh in his habitual shades he was famous for. A leather bound collection of famous poetry was squeezed into one shelf of his bookcase, something pressed in between two of the volumes. Falco wrinkled his forehead in curiosity, stepping over to the bookcase and reaching for the semi-hidden object.

It was a picture. One that had predominantly taken place framed on Fox's bedside table before. Falco stared down at it, wondering why it was now wedged in between two books that Fox barely even read anymore.

It was a picture of he and Fox, taken on the day they had won the war. Fox looked tired, and yet happy, a large grin lighting up his boyish features as he flashed the photographer a peace sign, his right arm thrown over the shoulders of his companion. Falco stood beside him, and although he had his wings crossing his chest, he had on one of his rare smiles, a semi-smirk as he looked over at the happy canine.

Falco stared a moment longer, wondering why he felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. With a shaky sigh, he turned, placing the picture back between the books again, and went to go find something to do that didn't involve him having to interact with other people.