Chapter Text
You sighed, pulling your CAC out of your computer and shoving it into your lanyard. You’d run out of anything suitable to make a lunch with yesterday, and hadn’t realized until this morning when you’d attempted to make a nothing sandwich. There was nothing left to do but head to the Cantine. Where the hell is it, again? Three streets up or four?
You started your car and began crawling down the main drag, 25-mph speed limit holding you back. It was ridiculous and overkill, if someone asked you. There was no reason to make everyone go that slow. You turned your music down when you thought you were getting close, scanning the limestone buildings for a tent with a portable grill. There it is… oh, shit.
You’d found the Cantine, but it was slammed at the moment. People were everywhere, not a single free table in sight. You parked and hoped that by the time you got to the front of the line some space would free up.
Ten minutes later, you had a bag with your burger and chips in one hand and a can of coke in the other. You stepped around the tent and scanned the throng of people, desperately searching for an open table, but came up empty. I am absolutely not eating in my new car. Biergarten rules it is, then.
You started looking for open seats rather than open tables. Off in a corner of the lawn was a little two-person wire table with only one man at it. He was in greens, but didn’t look like he’d bite your head off for asking to sit with him. Probably. You gulped and made your way over, passing a table full of Emergency Management folks and another full of soldiers before pulling up to your chosen spot.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but uh, it’s kind of packed and I was wondering if I could sit with you. There aren’t any tables left.” You said, shifting from foot to foot. He’d looked up once you started talking and now that you could see his face holy shit was he hot. He was just staring. You’d made a mistake. You were about to say never mind, turn tail, and leave, but he abruptly shoved his meal closer to himself and gestured to the open chair. You sat, cautiously.
“Frank,” he said without preamble.
“Y/n,” you replied, the tiniest of smiles tugging at your lips. Thank god this meal wouldn’t be silent.
“What does a fine lady such as yourself do on this little base?”
“I’m working for the Corps of Engineers, up at Building C. Forgot my lunch today. How about you? How long have you been in the Army?” You asked, unwrapping your cheeseburger. Frank chuckled. You cocked a brow at him, wondering why your question was so funny.
“Since never. I’m a Marine, actually,” he said, shoving some fries into his mouth. “Been in since 18.”
You frowned, confused. “Why are you on an Army base if you’re a Marine? Isn’t that, like, behind enemy lines or something? Figuratively of course.”
“What’re you—no, it’s not like that. They call us crayon eaters, sure, but we’re all on the same side. There’s a Navy center right across from your building, ain’t there? The Marine one is just further this way. Ain’t that weird.”
“Oh, I…I guess you’re right. I never go this way down the road, so…” You trailed off, awkward.
“I don’t have any business goin’ up to Building C, so stands to reason you wouldn’t be headed my way very often,” he reassured. “‘Sides, I would’ve remembered seeing you around.”
“I can’t say I’ve seen you before, either,” you said, tilting your head at him. “Why would I stick out to you? I’m just some chick from the Corps.”
There was a twinkle in his eye as he took a sip of his drink. He wiped his mouth and leveled his gaze at you, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips. And damn if it didn’t suit him.
“Just some chick, huh? I wouldn’t say that. I’d say you’re the most beautiful woman on the base. I’d definitely know if I saw you before.”
You blinked, shocked that this absolute specimen of a man was hitting on you . Like, really, actually hitting on you. Am I dreaming? Is this real?
“I—I, uh, wow. Thank you. Not so bad yourself, sir.” You tossed in the title at the last moment, seeing a flash of something pass through his eyes. Filing that away for later…
“I gotta say, I’m pretty glad it was packed out here today. Never woulda met you otherwise,” he ran a hand through his hair, adjusting in his seat. Something about it brought out your rare coy side.
“Are you trying to turn this into a date, Marine?” You asked, brows lifted. He leaned back, crossing his arms.
“What if I was? Would that be so bad?”
“Hmmm,” you pretended to think. “You don’t even know my last name.”
“Y/l/n,” he said, not missing a beat. You were taken aback. He pointed somewhere around your waist level. “It’s on your CAC.”
“Well, I guess that’s fair,”— you glanced at his uniform—”Castle. We’ve got about ten minutes before I have to head back.”
“Guess I better make them count, then.” He said. And he did. He was easy to talk to, charming, and polite. His New York accent jumped out here and there, and you found it endearing. It kind of reminded you of your family and the Chicago accent that occasionally made an appearance. For something that wasn’t supposed to be a date in the first place, it was a pretty good one. You parted ways with a “see you around” and promises to get in touch, though you didn’t exchange numbers. Frank seemed sure you’d be seeing each other, and you were inclined to agree.