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The whole thing was Fritz’s idea. Granted, it didn’t take the Dagger Squad much convincing after a few rounds of drinks. You were all laughing so hard, Penny was ready to kick all of you out of the Hard Deck.
It had all started with Hangman’s drunk attempts at flirting with you. “I got - I got another one,” he hiccupped. “It’s a good thing I have my library card, because I’m totally checking you out.” You rolled your eyes at that one.
“I didn’t even know you could read,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. You’d lost count at how many you’d had.
“How about this one, darlin’,” Hangman winked. “I’d love to get drunk off of you, Champagne.” His reference to your callsign made you snort into your drink, trying to suppress a giggle.
“Hold on, my turn,” Phoenix said, swaying where she stood. “Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?” You doubled over with laughter at that one, clutching your stomach. Tossing back the rest of your drink, you emptied the glass, which Fritz quickly replaced as he came up behind you. He had been matching Harvard and Yale drink for drink. He hadn’t been this drunk since his 21st birthday party, when he had woken up in a hot air balloon 50 miles from his house. (You unfortunately hadn’t been there to witness it, instead hearing it from a little birdie named Omaha, who couldn’t keep a secret after two beers).
“Guys,” he slurred. “I have a great idea. We’re aviators, right?” The Daggers waited for him to continue, but the Florida native merely sipped his drink, apparently done with his sentence.
“That’s it?” Omaha said. “You just pointed out the obvious.”
“Wait, I didn’t get to finish,” Fritz defended himself. “We’re aviators. We should come up with airplane related pickup lines to woo the ladies later.” The Daggers immediately took to the idea and began chattering away.
“I got one, darlin’,” Hangman said, locking eyes with you. “How would you like to take a seat in my cockpit?” You choked on your drink again as the Daggers cheered.
“Mine’s better,” Rooster chimed in. “I’ll give you control of the stick if you become my pilot.”
“Rooster!” you smacked his arm. Rooster leaned towards you as he laughed, your hand still on his arm. Hangman’s eyes darkened as he watched Rooster flirt with you. He stepped in between the two of you, blocking Rooster from your view.
“Darlin’, you’re about as hot as an engine at full throttle,” he said, green eyes peering into yours. You decided to roll with it, coming up with bad pickup lines yourself.
“How have I never noticed you before? You wanna join me for dinner in the Mile High Club?” You tilted your head at the blonde pilot. His mouth fell open, shocked that you had actually reciprocated. The Dagger’s yells grew louder and rowdier as you twirled out of his grasp over to Phoenix.
Hangman found his cocky expression again. “I had no idea angels existed at this altitude,” he smirked at you.
“We’re literally on the ground right now.”
Phoenix threw her arm over your shoulder and said, “Are we flying to Ireland? Because my D is Dublin from looking at you.”
“You don’t even have a dick, Phoenix,” Halo said over your giggles.
“I know, but I thought it was funny.”
“I’m gonna have to put on an oxygen mask because you take my breath away,” Rooster said, eliciting a bunch of groans from the Daggers. He quickly ran to the piano and played the iconic melody to add to the effect.
“When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut to find heavenly bodies. Turns out, there’s one right in front of me,” Hangman said, pulling you close to him. You groaned playfully, leaning against him as the not fun part of alcohol began taking effect.
“I thought of one,” Coyote said. “Do I have an F-16 chance of going out with you?” The group was silent for a moment as your inebriated brains tried to figure it out.
“Ohhh! It’s a Fighting Falcon,” Harvard figured it out. “Like, a fighting chance of going on a date?” Coyote nodded.
“That’s why you went to an Ivy League school. Smartest one here,” Halo commented. She turned to Yale. “How’d you get into an Ivy?”
“Hey!” Yale cried in mock offense.
“If you really hate them, you could call them an A-10,” Fritz slammed back another drink. He was close to getting cut off by Penny. “A Warthog.” The Daggers exploded into laughter.
“You make me like an F-18: Super Horn-y,” Bob spoke up suddenly, the only sober one. The whole group stopped in shock for a moment, not expecting that from the usually timid WSO. Phoenix was the first to burst into laughter, followed by the rest of the squad. As you all tossed back more and more drinks, the pickup lines became worse - and funnier.
“You’re like an F-22. You enRaptor me,” Halo giggled.
“I’m F-15 Eager to go on a date with you,” Omaha proclaimed.
“You B-2 snuck your way into my heart,” Fanboy declared.
“Oh, God, that one was awful,” Payback shook his head.
“Are you a P-51? Because Must-dang, girl!”
“You’ve had enough to drink, Fritz.”
“A-26 Invader? I hardly know her!”
“Fritz, you’re being cut off.”
“I’d let you F-35 Lightning McQueen me any day.”
“What?”
“Kachow!”
“Where’d you get another beer from? Who let Fritz have another beer?”
“Are you a C-17? Because I’ll let you master my globe any day.”
“Fritz, that doesn't even make any sense.”
After a lot more awful jokes, the alcohol started wearing off and the Daggers began getting tired. Harvard and Yale were propped up on each other, half asleep. Fritz was sitting on the floor leaning on the jukebox, apparently tired from karaoke-ing Penny’s entire selection of oldie songs (she really needed to update it). Halo and Omaha had pretzeled themselves under the pool table, Omaha’s foot being the only visible part of their clump.
Payback and Fanboy were laying across the bar stools they had dragged all the way across the bar and lined up. Bob, still sober, was looking after Phoenix, who had her head on the bar. Coyote was slumped down in the booth, still clutching his pool cue (you didn’t know why he was still hanging on to it. He hadn’t played a game in hours). Rooster was tiredly plucking keys on the piano, his melody becoming softer and slower. You were sitting next to Hangman, your eyes barely open. Hangman, who somehow wasn’t drunk (or at least he was acting like he wasn’t), had his arm wrapped around you, making sure you didn’t fall off of your chair.
“I need a prince to come kiss me awake,” you whispered.
“I’ll be your F-10 in shining armor,” he replied softly. He looked down at you to find you asleep, using his arm as a pillow. He smiled gently and beckoned to Bob to help him get the drunk aviators home safely.
The next day, none of you (except Bob) remembered any of the pickup lines. Which was a shame; that F-10 one was pretty good.