Written for the '101 ways to snog en route to a colony' fanfiction and fanart challenge. Please visit the archive at http://happyfangirl.org/snogs/ and take a look at the contributions so far, then write/draw your own!
The shuttle port was dirty. Exceedingly so. The owners, if questioned, would probably have said it had 'character', which, Dorothy mused, would not have been entirely inaccurate; the walls at least were showing distinct signs of life, and she could have sworn the floor had swallowed someone's suitcase a few moments ago. It would certainly have explained the burp.
She sighed, and shifted about in her seat. Revolutions were a lot of fun to watch, but they did leave a country in such a mess afterwards. Not that she regretted coming as such; she just wished she had brought her limo with her. Bloody MOTs always came at the worst possible times. Now, what with all the normal telecom systems inoperative, and public transport a shambles, her only means of escape until either someone set the country back to rights, or Romafellar remembered her existence and sent someone to pick her up (both of which would take a week at the very least), was by shuttle. Ordinary, migraine-inducing, screaming baby to your left and religious fanatic to your right, *economy class* shuttle.
She shuddered, then turned about quickly as someone tapped on her shoulder from behind.
"Looking for a little excitement, Miss Catalonia?"
"Looking for a new chat up line, Miss Bloom?"
Cathy laughed. "Okay, okay! Hey, can't blame me for trying, right?" Dorothy tilted her head to regard the girl sceptically, and Cathy hastily continued, "Look, I'm just looking for a little help with something -- I really need a hand -- and I-"
"What kind of 'something'?"
"Well, you see, it's about my brother, Trowa..."
"Oh, so he's your *brother*!" Dorothy smiled. "Well now, that *is* interesting. I was sure-"
"Dear Lord, Dorothy, SHUT UP! This is IMPORTANT!"
There was a pause, and then, "I'm sorry."
Cathy breathed, hard. "No -- forget it -- I just..."
"Well, if it's really not important..." Dorothy turned slightly, and made as if to leave.
"Oh, please! We both know that's just a feign."
"Yes. But, it does tend to get results."
"So... I guess that means you're at least considering lending a hand, then." Cathy grinned. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't to be breaking Trowa out of a Colonial jail all on my own, you know."
Dorothy blinked, and then nodded her understanding. "When do we leave?"
"Now. Oh, and Dorothy? One more thing."
"Yes?"
"I cook."
"But, Catherine... your cooking is terrible."
"I know, but so is yours. And I'm much more experienced."
A very little time later, the two were taking off in Cathy's shuttle. It was a sleek, stealthy machine, excellently suited to its purpose, and most probably stolen. Dorothy was in love at first sight.
She had soon familiarised herself with the controls, and, about three quarters of the way through the journey, having *still* not managed to get into any skirmishes, began executing complicated manoeuvres among fields of debris (supposedly to brush up on her piloting skills), taking out decades old space mines, and generally making the most of the situation.
Cathy laughed, and slapped at Dorothy's hands. "You shouldn't do that! You'll waste fuel, and draw attention to us, and- Wow! Hey, give me a go! I had no idea this thing could pull stunts like that!"
"You do realise, 'this thing' has a name." Dorothy replied, coolly. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be feeding me?"
"Bah. One sec-"
A sudden jolt hit the shuttle.
Cathy swore, loudly, as something by her burst into flame, and the extinguishing system began spraying her with white foam.
"What the bloody hell just happened?"
Dorothy groaned softly, her face sheet-white. "I think we got them all... but I also think I managed to injure myself a bit when that last ship collided with us."
"Oh shit, Dorothy..." Cathy managed to pick her way over what had used to be part of the ceiling, to inspect her old friend. Dorothy's trousers were ripped, and soaked with blood, and her left arm hung limply in its socket. "I'm... so sorry. I'm sorry I got you into this."
"Hey... No pity. You don't look too great yourself." Dorothy pointed out, using her still-good arm to indicate the deep gash across Cathy's forehead, around which the skin was already starting to look a bit purple.
"S'pose not... Oh shit -- more."
Dorothy regarded the yellow dots blinking silently on the navigational screen, indicating at least seventeen well-armed ships headed their way, and attempted a shrug. "Better to go out with a nice spectacular bang, than to have death leave you waiting around for hours."
Cathy laughed, and pressed her lips to Dorothy's. "I should've fallen for you a long time ago, Catalonia."
"Yeah, you too." Dorothy smiled, and then the world went black.
Fin.
(:./psyche/snogiig)
