Stripes 03.16.16

Note: This installment contains implied Skilene. Perceive it as you will.

— § —

“. . . and I want Rico on aerial surveillance,” Skipper said to his team down in the HQ. “Private and I will scout the ground. We’ll —”

“Hey, guys,” said a voice from behind, causing the team to instinctively jump into combat position. Marlene flinched and held up her paws. “Whoa, guys! It’s just me.”

Skipper relaxed his stance and rolled his eyes. “We’ve already told you. You’re not authorized to just drop down here without permission. We are in the middle of a classified meeting,” he said, folding his flippers.

Marlene sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I was just wondering if I could ask something of you.”

Skipper arched a brow. “Do something for you? We are an elite unit. Not some kind of on-call help service to go around running errands for you.”

Marlene looked offended. “Well, excuse me. I know we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, but you don’t have to go on acting like I’m some kind of nuisance.”

Skipper sighed. “We’re a little busy. Can’t it wait?”

Marlene hesitated. “Not particularly,” she answered quietly.

“And what could you possibly want that can’t wait until later?” Skipper asked with another roll of his eyes.

Marlene looked at the floor as if ashamed of herself for even asking for anything at this point. “Food,” she answered quietly. Before Skipper could retort, she said, “Alice threw spoiled oysters into my habitat for dinner. I haven’t had anything to eat since noon. I know you guys are into the whole commando thing, so I figured you were my best bet to get into the storage room.”

There was a moment of strained silence before Marlene locked eyes with Skipper.

“But if you’re so busy, I guess I’ll just go figure something else out,” she snapped before turning on her heel.

“Wait,” Skipper called, holding up a flipper. Marlene turned back. Skipper shifted awkwardly, feeling a bit guilty for the way he’d spoken to her. “I’m . . . sorry. I’ll help you.” He turned to Rico. “Crowbar,” he ordered. Rico regurgitated his desired item and Skipper started heading for the hatch.

“Do you want us to come along, sir?” Kowalski asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“No,” Skipper replied over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Skipper and Marlene started heading over to the storage building in strained silence. After a few minutes, Marlene spoke up.

“Why did you agree to help me?” she asked.

Skipper looked at her for a moment, and then turned back to the path ahead. “I wasn’t about to let you starve. I’m not a monster, y’know,” he answered.

Marlene winced a little. “I know,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I was just . . . frustrated because . . .”

“I was being difficult?” Skipper suggested.

Marlene was taken aback. “Um . . . I guess you could put it that way.”

Skipper shrugged a little. “It would be ignorant and self-centered for me to say that I’m not difficult. All you wanted was a little something to eat and I nearly sent you away without knowing even that.”

Marlene was surprised at how calmly he was taking this — she was stricken speechless. They reached the storage building and found a window.

“Wait here,” Skipper instructed before flipping onto the windowsill and cracking the window open with the crowbar. He looked down to Marlene. “I’ll be back in a min —”

Marlene hopped up onto the windowsill next to him in a similar fashion and he stared at her for a moment.

“Nice,” he commended before hopping down into the building.

“What?” Marlene said, joining him. “Women don’t have moves as good as men?”

Skipper searched around for the box marked Otter. “No, you just didn’t strike me as the athletic type,” he replied.

Marlene assisted him in the search. “Well, I’m usually more of a swimmer.”

“Well, there’s one thing we have in common,” Skipper said, glancing back at her for a moment.

Marlene arched a brow. “Did I detect a smile?” she asked. “I didn’t think you were capable.”

Skipper arched a brow at her. “That’s because I don’t smile until the job is done successfully.”

“Well, then,” Marlene replied, “maybe you should be a little more flexible.” She continued looking for her crate.

Skipper studied her for a moment but didn’t respond. “Here it is,” he said, pointing to her crate. He hopped on top of the crate next to it and pried it open with the crowbar. Marlene joined him.

“These look fine,” Skipper said, examining a few of the oysters. “Take as many as you need.” He stood and turned on his heel, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” Marlene called. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“Well,” Skipper started, “I said I’d get you food, and I have. What else do you need?”

Marlene shrugged and looked down. “Nothing, I guess. I’ll — see you later, then. Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem, Ms. Marlene,” Skipper said with a salute and a small smile. He turned on his heel and prepared to jump off the crate but stopped in his tracks. He looked back over his shoulder at Marlene, who was collecting oysters and cradling them in her arms. He sighed and waddled back over to her. “Hey,” he said softly. She looked up at him. “I give you my authorization.”

Marlene brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“If you ever need anything,” Skipper continued, “I give you my authorization to enter our HQ.”

Marlene suddenly felt touched. “But . . . why —”

“Call it a gut feeling,” Skipper interrupted. “I think you can be trusted.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. “You’re gonna let me in on classified information?”

Skipper laughed. “Whoa, now. Hold on, there, Dollface. You haven’t earned your stripes on that just yet. Just don’t ever hesitate to drop by.”

Marlene smiled. Unsure of what to say, she just said, “Thank you.”

Skipper smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

[Words: 976]