Friend Zoned

After three weeks of near separation, they were reunited on the same shift. They spent the weekend gently touching and caressing, and as they prepared to bike to work on Monday morning, the sound of explosions were heard from all over base. With a sigh they went back into the dorm, grabbed their MOPP gear, pulled on their flack vest and helmet and headed to the block house.

"Lady and Gentlemen, welcome to the Pacific Air Forces Inspector General," said Wedge. His load crews groaned; they all knew what an Inspector General was. It was a chance for an inspection team of unlimited knowledge and experience to crawl up the asshole of everyone in the fighter wing and inspect every thought and every polyp. "First lines come out in two hours people; I need six volunteers. Davis crew and Johnson's crew, thank you for volunteering."

"Aww, crap Wedge, what did we get volunteered for?"

"C-Shop has been tasked to reprogram IFF for every bird we got. I need each of you to grab a speed handle and a number two apex and open and close panels for C-Shop. If we loan six people with speed handles to C-shop, we can be done with the squadron in thirty minutes, and you will have time to set up your tools for the HARM lines." For some reason his crews loved to load HARM (High-speed Anti-Radiation Missiles) it's a big job, but it goes quick and they're the last weapons to come out of the bomb dump giving the load crews some slack time.

"Why should we help them, they never help us," demanded Heidi.

"You're wrong toothpaste breath. See that pretty sergeant over there. Volunteering will make her happy. When she's happy she likes to make me happy. When I'm happy I postpone my plans to make your lives a living hell. See?"

"We're on it!" cried Nate Prescott.

"Why didn't you put it that way earlier?" asked Heidi. The load crews dashed for the tool crib to get their tools when Wedge noticed that everyone was healthy.

"Damn, I don't have any busted crews, who's going to be my truck bitch?" complained Wedge when he and Bill Harkness stepped into the office to get their line-ups.

"I'll ride with Bill and I'm taking Josh with me," said the shop NCOIC, Sammy Johns. "Wedge, you get Master Sergeant Anna Franklin and Lieutenant Kenosha."

"Shit. You hate me don't you," groaned Wedge.

"It's what you get for relaxing on night shift," grinned Sammy. Master Sergeant Anna Franklin was a tall, skinny black woman, she arrived right after New Years and being on night shift, Wedge never got a chance to meet her. Lieutenant Kenosha's shiner was gone; however, no one was sure if Sammy knocked some knowledge into him. He is quieter however, which was a plus.

Anna was positive that Wedge didn't like her. They sat in front of the block house and Wedge was transferring data to the plexiglass status board mounted on the engine hood and Anna asked, "You don't like having a new person under your wing?"

"You're wrong," he said as he filled in data on the board, "I enjoy training people, that way I know they got it right." But he was frowning as he filled in the data.

"Is it my rank?"

"No, some of my best friends are master sergeants. Actually, I have a good feeling about this last testing period, I hope to be one soon."

That rankled Anna, now she was sure it was her race, but she tried one more time, "is it my sex that has you annoyed?"

"Sergeant Anna, I had two very small women on my last B-52 load crew, and I requested them. They out loaded every other team on base, and we were load crew of the quarter for a year. Have you ever loaded a B-52?"

"No."

"One cruise missile pylon weighs more than a fully loaded F-16, and you hang two of them on a Buff, along with four gravity bombs and eight SRAM missiles internal. That's humping, and a lot of people didn't think Mari and Janet could do it. we were able to do three loads in a twelve-hour shift, it was insane. I have no problem with anyone's sex. I just want them to do the job."

Just as she was about to ask if there was a problem elsewhere, another truck pulled up as close as possible, driver's door to driver's door. They slid their doors back and Roxie and Wedge leaned out and kissed as long as they dared. "Thank you love, we're done!" said Roxie with a huge grin as the six bomb loaders hopped out of the back of her truck.

"Already? I knew it would work! Did an inspector say anything?"

"Nope. Did you get your orders yet?" she asked. In six short months Roxy is leaving, she has a follow-on assignment to Shaw Air Force Base in South Carolina. Two months after that Wedge will be going somewhere, he hasn't received orders yet, he was originally hoping for a follow-on assignment to Lakenheath in England, but he heard his orders were cancelled and were being re-cut. Both Roxie and Wedge were terrified over his orders, it would be documentation that this dream they were living was going to end in tears.

"No orders yet. Well... hopefully we'll get blown up together," with another quick kiss and a wink, Roxie closed her door and drove off to take up position to dispatch her people as needed.

"Almost done here," said Wedge as he finished up transferring data to the board.

"Ok, why don't you like me?" Anna demanded.

"Don't like you? I don't even know you. It takes me weeks to work up a good dislike." Just then Lieutenant Kenosha started snoring. "For him I'll make an exception." The load crews clambering into the back of the truck didn't even wake the Lieutenant. "Ok, let's set out crews." He called each crew chief forward and pointed out the planes that he has them scheduled for. "You'll start out on spot five, when you're done with that, move up to seven, them over to eleven." And so on, the order he assigned the crews didn't make sense unless you knew the whole picture. The "healthiest" airplanes were first to get their weapons, the planes that needed more maintenance by anyone were further down the list. He handed each team chief a sheet of paper with his instructions and dropped his four crews off.

"Why not just have them do four, five, and six like that?" asked Anna.

"Five, seven, and eleven are all the same, five-hundred-pound snake eyes. Spots four, six, and eight are two-thousand-pound bombs and the weapons will come out later, I don't want our guys waiting around and they only have to sign out so many tools. It's a working system that I inherited." He found a parking spot and stopped. "Now we wait. Keep an eye out on the crews we dropped off." He pointed out all four shelters that they dropped crews off. "If they need us they'll step out and wave for us."

"What did you mean when you mentioned getting blown up together?"

"They like to target this truck and Roxie's truck. They kill me and then look to see how you take over. It's happened quite often. You get to run the show while Roxie and I have a nice hot meal at the bowling alley."

Soon the weapons rolled out and the loaders began their half loads. It was a cold miserable day, and the auxiliary heater in Juvat 4 didn't seem to be working properly, until Wedge discovered that the lieutenant had blocked the output vents with his MOPP bag, and he had shoved Wedge's bag out of the way to put his bag behind Wedge's seat. Wedge got his bag back and put it next to him where he wanted it, opened an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) and rummaged around in it. He then opened the envelope of Corned Beef Hash and emptied the tiny bottle of tabasco sauce into it and stirred it up good and mixed up the orange drink in his canteen cup.

"It's best you eat when you can, we'll be putting our masks on eventually and you never know how long it's going to be before they come off." He dug out the pound cake that was included and put it in his pocket, that was a filling snack, but most guys didn't like it. Wedge loved it and Roxie said she was going to make a birthday cake for him out of them.

Soon the sirens blared requiring them to go to MOPP level 1, to put on their outer gear. "Lieutenant, put on your MOPP gear," called Wedge. The lieutenant muttered and went back to sleep. Wedge dropped his web belt and flack vest and pulled on his protective gear. It was almost like putting on his snow pants when he was a kid and was going out to play in the snow. "You set Sergeant Anna?"

"Those pants are a pain!" said Anna as she pulled on her flack vest.

"You get used to it." Wedge put the truck in gear and drove back to the block house. "Lieutenant! There's a call for you in the office!"

"Huh? Oh, ok," muttered the Lieutenant and got up to leave.

"Take your bag sir," and when the Lieutenant left, Wedge drove away.

"What was that about?" demanded Anna.

"I don't care who you are, if you're not properly equipped or attired, you're not in my truck. I'm not going to take a write up because you're hungover.'

"So, you lied to the lieutenant to get rid of him?"

"I'm sorry," said Wedge. "I swore I heard his phone ring."

"You dick," Anna chuckled. This was going to be an interesting day.

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The PACAF Inspector General threw everything they could at them. During simulated attacks, units from other bases like Misawa Japan, Osan Korea, and Kadena on Okinawa roared over the base, sometimes they were chased by a Wolfpack F-16. They were "bombed" by F-15s, F-16s and A-10s and quite often it sounded like the fourth of July with all the explosions. Smoke grenades filled the air with various colors of smoke and the security forces were constantly under terrorist attack. The sound of M-16s firing blanks filled the air day and night.

Wedge and Roxie usually made their way back to the dorm at night alone, and they agreed that if either one was asleep when they got home they would let that partner sleep. Even though they were exhausted when they got home they fought to stay awake for the other, but it was nearly impossible. Sometimes Wedge's mind was spinning so fast from the day's activities that he had a tough time falling asleep and Roxie could always tell when that happened because the next morning she would find him asleep on the floor next to her bed.

February literally came in with a bang, the IG tried to make sure that the shortest month of the year was also the loudest. An army helicopter squadron and a marine Harrier squadron had taken up home on Kunsan for the week. For some reason the helicopters decided to land using the main taxiway as their runway and almost landed on top of Wedge. He and Anna heard the load crew in the back laughing and yelling, so when he checked his mirrors he saw a pair of Apache attack helicopters behind him. Later an apology came to him from Base Ops who said that the flight of choppers did not know that runway 27 did not exist.

The exercise started on Monday, and it wasn't until Thursday when they were ducked into a shelter for an alert black that the inspectors came looking for him. "Who was driving this truck?" asked an inspector as he patted Juvat four.

"That was me," said Wedge. He had just sat down next to Roxie; it was the first time they were able to shelter together.

"Name, rank, and last four please."

"Donovan, Michael, A. Tech Sergeant, 0210."

Another inspector pinned a "smart dead" tag on him and said, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered to bid farewell to Michael Donovan..."

"Did you sit up all night thinking that one up?" chuckled Donovan as he pulled off his mask. It was damn cold, so he put his mask back on. While he gathered his bag he asked the inspector, "would someone be able to hear me inquire about a hoagie for dinner from beyond the grave?"

"No, I'm sorry, you're dead, no one can hear you."

"But I will pray for roast beef," said Roxie sadly.

That night when she got back to the dorm a roast beef hoagy with mayo and mustard just how she liked it was waiting for her, as was a steaming hot cup of chicken soup. "Were you lonely without me?" she asked Wedge who had nodded off in his "reading chair."

"Oh, hey baby," he said, and he got up and gave her a kiss. "I was chatting with that Vietnamese girl from Minnesota. She and her husband already got a follow-on assignment to Osan."

"Lanh? She's a sweetheart," said Roxie. "She says since she can't have kids, she and her husband are pouring everything into their education. They're having a contest to see who can get their doctorate first."

That thought struck Wedge, he had never thought about kids, now suddenly he has an actual lover (sort of, they're still blissfully happy with hands and fingers) "What about you? Have you ever thought about kids?"

Ever since she looked at Wedge as a lover, she's been evaluating his potential as a father. "You're not ready yet. You'll get there, but it will take some time."

"Is that a proposal?"

"I love this soup!" she said changing the subject.

"Lanh made it, her parents have a soup store."

"They should be millionaires!" said Roxie as she ate her soup. She only finished half of her hoagie and wrapped it up and put it in her fridge then said, "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed; I am so exhausted." When she got back from her shower she slipped on a comfortable gown and Wedge met her as she climbed into bed. "Wedge honey, I want you so bad but I'm so tired..."

They kissed sweetly and he laid her down on her bed and they kissed again. "I can't baby, I'm so tired. Next time, definitely next time."

"Promises, promises," said Wedge. "Just relax, let me help." He arranged himself on the end of the bed, their only light a flickering candle on her table. He began to massage her feet, eliciting coos and ahs from Roxie.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she groaned.

"My mom stood all day long at work, she taught me." Slowly he evolved from massaging her feet to massaging her calves.

"Don't, I haven't shaved," she said sleepily, but he didn't stop. His touch was magical, lulling, relaxing, and yet exciting. He didn't respond, he continued to massage her legs. It was so nice... so sweet... She felt him moving around at the foot of the bed, but she wasn't sure what he was doing. Then she felt him begin to kiss her inner thighs.

"No," she mumbled, his lips felt so good as he bit by bit began to kiss his way higher. "Don't," she groaned but she found her legs spreading wider and wider of their own accord. She couldn't stop them, they spread wide for Wedge all by themselves. Wedge was slow, he took a century... it took forever for his lips to finally reach her pussy. With a shuddering sigh from Roxie, Wedge began licking and kissing her cunt. With his thumbs he gently spread her pedals, exposing her pussy and clit and he began to drive his tongue into her pussy, exciting her exhausted mind with his licking and suckling.

How long did it go on? She had no idea; all she knew was that he was gently driving her out of her mind. She grasped his head and cried, "Stop!" but she didn't push him away, she held him right where he was. "Oh, sweet God," she groaned as his actions became more and more urgent. She was going to cum, and it was going to be big. Her hips raised up, lifting her ass off the mattress and she squeaked trying not to scream, then with a groan she came. Her hips still off the mattress shuddered, making it hard to lick her clit, then with a huge exhalation she went limp, and her hips dropped to the mattress, her orgasm thundering through her, and taking the built-up tension with it as it went.

As she began to drift off to sleep they kissed, and she could taste herself on his lips. "That was nice, why?" she asked sleepily as he tucked her in.

"Promises, promises."

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February was just as bitter and cold as January, if not worse. The excitement from the Outstanding IG rating for the fighter wing overall, and an Excellent rating for the Juvats died off quickly as the task of getting back to work was at hand. Wedge had four fliers that had live fires on their guns today. He had a crew ready to do clean and lube and another crew ready to reload the ammo drums. One by one the "shooters" came down and taxied into "The Flows". The flows are eight shelters in a row with no back or front doors. They have fuel capability; the plane can taxi into the shelter and "hot pit" (take on jet fuel with the engine running) or they can park there. Since the flows face a huge berm of dirt and concrete they're perfect for arming up the guns. The F-16 carries just over 500 rounds of 20 mm ammo, and the six-barrel gatling gun will fire them all in five seconds.

"Aw gross," groaned Wedge, the left side of the shooters was covered with soot from firing. The gun is on the left side of the plane behind the cockpit and the burnt powder was painting the left side of the plane just below the cockpit.

"Hey Wedge, come check this out!" said Don Davis, the head of the crew that's doing the reloads. He pointed to a write-up in the aircraft forms. "Gun will not fire in left hand turn." Wedge looked at the write up and the more he looked at it the dumber it looked.

"Who wrote this up?" said Wedge as he got his pencil out of his pocket.

"Our favorite nuclear bomber," grinned Don.

Wedge shook his head; the plane will not shoot in a left hand turn by design. If you are turning left you will turn into your ammo stream and shoot your own nose off. The dumbass pilot may even shoot himself in the back. He signed off the write up, 'Left turn sensor ops check good.' Then he turned to Don and said, "How long until this thing is ready for gas?"

"Twenty minutes," said Don as he connected the ammo loader to the aircraft gun. 'Ready for gas' means that all weapons activities are done, and they can put fuel on the plane.

Wedge turned to Juvat Super and said, "She'll be weapons ready in fifteen minutes." Don always pads his estimates. In fact, Don was done in ten minutes. Soon the air crews for the next flights started showing up and Wedge was back in his position in Juvat four, Juvat Seven with Roxie at the wheel was parked next to him. As he filled out his expenditure sheets, Wedge was also keeping an eye on his crews who were scattered about doing several different tasks, fire guard, loading practice bombs, and changing argon bottles. Roxie was helping one of her techs with a troubleshooting issue when a pickup truck marked Juvat CC pulled up in front of the two trucks and the driver indicated with a crooked finger that he wanted to talk to the drivers. Wedge hopped out and saw that Roxie didn't notice so he tapped on the door of her truck, and she hopped out.

They stood next to their commanders truck, and he rolled down the window. "Sergeant Donovan... Left turn sensor ops check good?"

"Yes sir!" said Wedge, standing at attention. "It passed with flying colors; air crew verified. Sir."

"Is that the proper way to sign off that write-up?"

"I quoted chapter and verse from T.O. 1F-16C-33-1-2 Nonnuclear Munitions Loading Procedures which clearly states that the gun will not fire in a left hand..."

"Thank you Sergeant Donovan, are you taking Sergeant Dawson to dinner tonight?"

"Well, sir... there's only one other couple in this squadron that I know of, we don't want to be a curiosity. We're thinking of a quiet meal in my room."

"Valentines day and the sweethearts of the Juvats are sitting in the dorm? Bullshit!" He handed Wedge a large 9 by 12 envelope. "There's tickets in there for a steak and lobster dinner at the O club tonight. Semi-Formal Class A required."

"Thank you sir," said Wedge. The envelope was thick, what the heck? He unwound the string that held the flap closed and looked inside and there was a thick stack of paper, they were a set of orders. Wedge was being assigned to the weapons flight in the 55th Fighter Squadron, the Fighting Fifty Fifth... he gasped looking at the orders... "I'm going to Shaw!" He looked at Roxie, his eyes wide, "We're going to Shaw!"