Joan and Michel Fournier’s new house was pretty dang sweet. When Bee and Chuck arrived around six pm, the driveway was already packed with hoverbikes and two magnetic sedans. Bee squeezed her own little car into the last available spot on the street, and the two friends walked up towards the porch. Chuck whistled quietly. 

The house was a cheerfully green bungalow, with white details and a red shingles roof. On each side of the large porch, holographic hydrangea bushes were in full bloom.

Bee pressed the buzzer while Chuck squinted through the windows that bracketed the door. “Sweet potatoes, how did Fournier afford this? He’s like, twelve!”

“He’s twenty,” Bee corrected him, because she was a stickler who didn’t appreciate a good hyperbole. “And Joan and Michel didn’t need to afford it, it’s military housing.”

“What do you mean, military housing?” he muttered, pressing his nose all the way up against the cool frosted glass of the windows and probably leaving a smudge. Which was fine, it wasn’t a big deal, no matter how pointedly Bee coughed at him. First smudge on a new house, somebody had to do it. He could hear muffled music and laughter inside. He pressed the buzzer again. “No one ever offered me a house. And I like, way outrank both of them.”

Bee huffed and swatted his hand away from the doorbell. 

“Of course not, you’re not married. The housing’s an incentive for couples —”

The door opened before Bee could specify what the house was an incentive for. Chuck made a mental note to ask her later. He liked knowing stuff and she liked telling him, which was part of the reason why they got along so well. She also tended to repeat herself, and he always forgot everything immediately, so both of their annoying traits combined to form one semi-functional duo that talked in circles a lot.

Joan Fournier was a tall woman in her early twenties, her round face still glowing from the excitement of her recent marriage. She beamed at them from the open door. 

“Chuck, Bee! Glad you made it! Come on in!”

“Hi!” he grinned back, trying to overcome his exhaustion to match her intensity. They shuffled awkwardly into a bright yellow entryway before she ushered them into the main part of the house. 

A long room took up one side of the house, with a table on one end and a little sitting area on the other. A large holographic display occupied the center of the wall on the right, and lively music came from hidden speakers in each corner. A dozen people were already here, mostly faces that Chuck recognized from the base. 

“Michel’s gone to get more beer, he should be back soon,” Joan informed them. “Do you want a tour?”

Chuck glanced at Bee for her opinion, but she was too busy staring at the purple and teal patterned linoleum with a flummoxed look on her face. It looked pretty nice, especially when contrasted with the bright pink shag carpet that delineated the sitting area. Chuck smiled at Joan and hooked Bee’s arm in his so she wouldn’t wander off. She had a tendency to freeze when she had too many new things to look at, and he’d gotten used to holding her hand or arm when they went shopping at the mall so he wouldn’t accidentally leave her behind. 

“Sure, we’d love a tour! It’s a lovely house.”

And it definitely was. Every single inch of the place seemed to be decorated in a riot of colours and patterns, from the brown and yellow wallpaper to the zig-zagging tiger stripes on the fuzzy sofa. Chuck didn’t know if that was due to the Fournier’s good taste or if the house had come pre-decorated, but he liked it. It had personality. 

They crossed into the kitchen at the back of the house, with it’s violently pink cupboards and lime green fridge. On the table, the guests had piled up a veritable banquet of home made food, which made Chuck momentarily embarrassed that he and Bee hadn’t thought to bring anything. Joan laughed at that, and confessed in a hushed, amused whisper that she wasn’t looking forward to eating so much casserole, before pressing plates into their hands and urging them to do their part for king and country. Bee picked politely at a crudité platter while Chuck spotted his absolute favourite party dish, a lush dome of refreshing grape jell-o with an entire banana and pieces of ham floating inside, surrounded by an adorable garnish of raw carrots cut into little flower shapes. Bafflingly, no one else had yet dug in and breached the jelly to taste the sweet and salty treasure inside, but that only meant that there was more for him. With an approving nod from Joan, he cut himself a large serving before they moved on to the next room in the tour. 

The other side of the house was a lot less interesting, with two simple bedrooms separated by a large bathroom and a small hallway. Bee made the appropriate “oh” and “ah” noises at the sight of the large tub, which Joan seemed to expect, while Chuck squinted at the lovely wallpaper of the larger bedroom, trying to figure out if the repeating green and gold pattern represented rabbits or ducks. 

They moved back into the living room, where Michel had returned with the beer. The conversations were lively, the noise rising, and Chuck happily shouldered his way into a circle of petty officers to find out what was the hot gossip of the day. 

“Chuck!” cried Evans as soon as he appeared. “Have you heard? We’re getting a new Major!”

“What, really?” he said, while Bee frowned and pulled out her comm to check her emails. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Yeah, they’re gonna announce it soon I think. I’m like, not supposed to know,” Evans said, then touched his nose and winked.

Bee rolled her eyes. “Squealing Gulls —”

“— Puncture Hulls!” they all shouted in unison, some of them even raising their beers in a toast. A laugh went through the group. Fortunately they were all used to Bee’s idiosyncrasies, so no one took it very personally when she was being uptight at them.

“I’m just happy that Major Duchamps is leaving,” said Johnson. “Like, fuck that guy, am I right?” 

Bee did a sort of full body shudder next to Chuck, and he knew she was probably biting back some automatic reminder about not talking shit about superior officers. But she did an admirable job biting into a carrot instead. Chuck jostled her with his shoulder and she frowned harder. He leaned down to talk into her ear.

“You’re having fun, right?”

She made a non-committal hum, but made no move to leave the group, so Chuck figured she was okay. 

“Do we know anything about the new guy?” someone else was asking. Evans shrugged, and the conversation devolved into a wish list of what each of them wanted out of a new superior officer, including “not being a dick (Johnson)”, “It’d be nice if we had a competent one, for once (Evans)”, and “I hope he’s hot (Chuck).” That last one earned him a few wolf calls and one very large eye roll from Bee, but she was finally smiling, which he was feeling pretty proud about.