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bantha_fodderThis Could Be a Warning Bell by Pen
Stealth, Kara Wade, PG.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
velithya.
**
The day she leaves, her father sends her an email. Do us proud, he types, and she smiles.
She will.
**
Training is hard; of course it is. She's up before dawn and up until 00:00, and she knew the Navy was bad but she thought it was better than jokes about her ass and her tits and what she does with the other female pilots.
She steps outside; thinks about picking up smoking, an excuse to get away. "Hey, Wade," she hears, a male voice.
"Fuck off," she says, without looking.
"Hey," says Gannon. "You're better than them."
When she turns around, he's gone, and she wonders what his game is.
**
In the simulators she kicks ass; afterwards, the others sneer at her scores. "Sleeping with Stroud," one says, a smear on their instructor's name but like bright red spray paint on hers, and she tightens her hand into a fist.
At least I can get a fuck, she thinks to say, maybe jealous? or whatever keeps you warm at night, you miserable prick, but the truth is she wouldn't touch a Navy man with a ten foot pole, and that includes to slug him, so she shrugs, instead. Turns away.
Behind her, she hears catcalls, and her face burns, but she doesn't hit them, and that's something.
Her father would be proud.
**
Winslow, another woman in their training group, invites her to sit with all the other women at lunch.
She does, but she hates the whole segregation shit, hates that it's necessary, and she leans forward. "Aren't you sick of it?" she asks.
Winslow shrugs. "Yeah," she replies. "But what are we going to do? It's the Navy."
That's not good enough, Kara knows; says it aloud, and doesn't sit with them again.
**
Her third lunch on her own, Sampson drops his tray on the table across from her. "Mind if I sit here?" he asks, insincere. "Wouldn't want you to feel left out."
"I'm fine," she says, her smile just as insincere.
"I can help you if you're feeling lonely," he says. His eyes drop to her breasts; they linger, until she reaches across the table and grabs his chin, her nails digging into his cheeks.
"Go ogle your boyfriends," she says, and across the room, his friends jeer.
In the simulator, she kicks his fucking ass, and his friends keep on jeering.
**
A hand wraps around her wrist. "I am the best pilot here," Sampson says, his breath heavy with beer, his free hand cupping her ass.
"Try again," she says, and knees him.
She hears the sound of footsteps running; worries his friends are reinforcements, and can't decide if she should report him.
Gannon kneels beside her, his eyes bright. "Report the prick," he says, like he can read her mind.
"And what?" she replies. "Have his word against mine?"
"Ours," he says, softly. "I'll stand with you on this."
For the first time in a week, she smiles.
**
After, he buys her a beer. "You didn't have to," she says.
"What, buy you a beer?" he says. "I know, but I was buying myself a beer, and you have to do unto others, you know."
"No," she says, "reporting Sampson with me."
"Like I said," he says. "You have to do unto others."
He grins at her, and her heart leaps.
END
Stealth, Kara Wade, PG.
For
velithya.**
The day she leaves, her father sends her an email. Do us proud, he types, and she smiles.
She will.
**
Training is hard; of course it is. She's up before dawn and up until 00:00, and she knew the Navy was bad but she thought it was better than jokes about her ass and her tits and what she does with the other female pilots.
She steps outside; thinks about picking up smoking, an excuse to get away. "Hey, Wade," she hears, a male voice.
"Fuck off," she says, without looking.
"Hey," says Gannon. "You're better than them."
When she turns around, he's gone, and she wonders what his game is.
**
In the simulators she kicks ass; afterwards, the others sneer at her scores. "Sleeping with Stroud," one says, a smear on their instructor's name but like bright red spray paint on hers, and she tightens her hand into a fist.
At least I can get a fuck, she thinks to say, maybe jealous? or whatever keeps you warm at night, you miserable prick, but the truth is she wouldn't touch a Navy man with a ten foot pole, and that includes to slug him, so she shrugs, instead. Turns away.
Behind her, she hears catcalls, and her face burns, but she doesn't hit them, and that's something.
Her father would be proud.
**
Winslow, another woman in their training group, invites her to sit with all the other women at lunch.
She does, but she hates the whole segregation shit, hates that it's necessary, and she leans forward. "Aren't you sick of it?" she asks.
Winslow shrugs. "Yeah," she replies. "But what are we going to do? It's the Navy."
That's not good enough, Kara knows; says it aloud, and doesn't sit with them again.
**
Her third lunch on her own, Sampson drops his tray on the table across from her. "Mind if I sit here?" he asks, insincere. "Wouldn't want you to feel left out."
"I'm fine," she says, her smile just as insincere.
"I can help you if you're feeling lonely," he says. His eyes drop to her breasts; they linger, until she reaches across the table and grabs his chin, her nails digging into his cheeks.
"Go ogle your boyfriends," she says, and across the room, his friends jeer.
In the simulator, she kicks his fucking ass, and his friends keep on jeering.
**
A hand wraps around her wrist. "I am the best pilot here," Sampson says, his breath heavy with beer, his free hand cupping her ass.
"Try again," she says, and knees him.
She hears the sound of footsteps running; worries his friends are reinforcements, and can't decide if she should report him.
Gannon kneels beside her, his eyes bright. "Report the prick," he says, like he can read her mind.
"And what?" she replies. "Have his word against mine?"
"Ours," he says, softly. "I'll stand with you on this."
For the first time in a week, she smiles.
**
After, he buys her a beer. "You didn't have to," she says.
"What, buy you a beer?" he says. "I know, but I was buying myself a beer, and you have to do unto others, you know."
"No," she says, "reporting Sampson with me."
"Like I said," he says. "You have to do unto others."
He grins at her, and her heart leaps.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-30 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-31 01:49 pm (UTC)