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Fleet Week by Leenie!Hopper
Summer: Hawaii: 1956
As the sun set over the Pacific Ocean, the nightlife was abuzz with servicemen
hitting the bars and nightclubs. It was Fleet Week and Pearl Harbor was filled
with ships and other Navy vessels.
Catcalls and hollering could be heard coming from the deck of the USS Oswald.
The sailors raced each other down to the docks, wearing their dress whites,
ready to impress a prospective one-night stand.
“Move your ass, Beecher! You’re in the way, squid!”
Ensign Tobias Beecher sneered at the other sailor. “Screw you, O’Reilly…there’s
plenty of time for you to bang some dame.”
“SOME dame?! Dames, buddy, DAMES, as in plural…more than one.” O’Reilly slapped
the back of Toby’s head, knocking off his sailor hat.
Toby shook his head and stepped aside to let his Irish buddy pass. There was
no point in arguing with Ryan O’Reilly. Toby fixed his hat as he watched his
unit go their separate ways. He was still undecided as to where he wanted to
go…but he was sure of one thing: he wanted to get laid. Scratch that. He NEEDED
to get laid. Months on the ocean, alone with nothing but men, made it hard to
get your rocks off…but Toby managed…here and there. Quick clandestine meetings
in the engine room or supply closets with certain sailors proved to make the
long, endless days at sea slightly more bearable.
So tonight he had a mission. That mission was to find the sweetest dame he could
corner and bang the hell out of her.
Toby wandered the sea front, walking past a few bars and ended up at the Tiki-Lau.
He walked into the dark and smoky club and took a look around. Most sailors
were already paired up with some local girls. He also noticed quite a few servicemen
from other branches…a group of soldiers had taken up one corner of the bar,
and there were a scattering of Marine and Flyboys slow dancing with their “dates”
on the small dance floor.
Toby made his way to an empty stool at the bar. Rolling up his sleeves, he ordered
a beer and gazed about the room, weighing his chances of finding a girl here.
As he tipped his head back to take a swig of his beer, he almost chipped a tooth
on the bottle as he was shoved from behind with a body.
“God DAMN it!” Toby shouted as he slammed his beer down on the bar and spun
around to see what the hell had just happened. He turned to see a Marine charging
back into the crowd after an Army soldier. The two went at it, punching and
shoving each other. The soldier’s fist connected with the Marine’s face and
the Marine stumbled backwards towards Toby. Toby caught him in his arms and
steadied him.
“Back OFF, Popeye!” the soldier slurred. “This one’s MINE!”
Toby could smell the hard liquor on the man’s breath. The soldier came charging
again, and Toby pushed the Marine to the side and belted the drunk solider with
a right hook. The man fell backwards, stumbling to the floor, landing on his
back. He was knocked out cold.
Toby felt a hand pull on his arm and a breathy voice whisper, lips almost touching
his ear, “Thanks buddy. I owe you.”
Without looking behind him, Toby growled, “I didn’t do it for you, pal. I hate
that drunk fuck. Schillinger’s always been an asshole.” Toby shrugged off the
hand and went back to his beer. He never even bothered to see who he had helped.
It didn’t matter to him…all this crap was just getting in the way of his mission
to get laid.
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As Toby sat nursing his beer, he realized he had caught the eye of a cute blonde
at the end of the bar. She smiled and winked, and Toby smiled in return. He
backed up off his stool and worked his way over to the blonde. He sidled up
next to her, leaning his back against the bar and playfully tipping his cap
up from behind.
“Hey, dollface. What’s your name?”
“Betty,” the blonde responded sweetly. “What’s yours?”
“You can call me Toby,” he answered as leaned in a little closer.
“HEY pal. She’s with ME.”
Toby turned to see a large sailor glaring down at him. He backed away, his hands
up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry…” Defeated, and pissed about the way his evening
was going, Toby made his way out the back door to get some fresh air. He walked
into the dark alley and leaned against the brick wall, sighing loudly and reached
into his back pocket for a cig and a match. He struck the match and it broke
in his hands.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, causing his cigarette to fall to the ground.
“Shit!”
“Need a light?” Toby looked up, startled, as a figure emerged from the shadows
in the back of the alley.
A Marine bent over to pick up Toby’s fallen cigarette. “Uh, sure…” Toby managed
to spit out as he gaped at the Marine’s ass. The Marine righted himself and
turned around, handing the cig to Toby. Toby placed the cigarette between his
lips, and the Marine leaned in with a lit match, his hand shielding the flame.
Toby stared at the man before him, whose eyes were sparkling in the flickering
light of the match. Toby was mesmerized. The Marine was well built, slightly
taller than Toby, with closely cropped dark hair. He looked up as he lit Toby’s
cigarette, catching Toby staring and him and smiled. Toby lost his breath at
the sight of his faint dimples and wide smile.
The cigarette finally lit, Toby leaned back against the wall, with one foot
propped up, puffing at his cig. “Uh, thanks.”
The Marine smiled again and leaned up against the wall next to Toby. “Anytime,
sailor.”
Realizing he was staring again, Toby quickly looked away. Toby turned straight
ahead, closing his eyes and swallowing hard as the other man inched closer.
“But you know,” the Marine murmured in a throaty voice, “I still owe ya.”
Toby’s eyes flew open wide. “That was you?!”
“The one and the same…and thanks for helping me out, pal.”
Trying to remain cool, Toby muttered, “Ah, it was nothing. What was his problem
anyway?”
“Beat’s me. I barely bumped into him and he went apeshit.”
“He was drunk.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” the Marine drawled.
Embarrassed by his stupidly obvious observation, Toby looked away. “Uh…what’s
your name?”
“Chris.”
“M’name’s Toby.”
“Please to meet you, Toby,” Chris replied, drawing out the “O” in Toby’s name.
He stuck out his hand to shake Toby’s.
Toby shuddered at the way the Marine said his name. He shook Chris’ hand, each
man holding on just a little longer than normally accepted, until finally letting
go. They stood silently for a while until Toby ground the cigarette out on the
brick wall and flicked it away with his finger.
Chris looked up at Toby with hooded eyes. “So…Toby…what am I gonna have to do
to pay you back?”
Nervous at the way the Marine phrased the question, Toby could only mutter,
“Um…dunno.”
Leaning his shoulder against Toby’s, Chris pressed his mouth against Toby’s
ear and growled, “I’m sure we can think of something.”
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