Title: What too much vodka can do
Rating: T
Genre: Humor/Romance
Disclaimer: I do not own Macross Frontier.
Summary: The big day has finally arrived for Alto to wed his superior's sister and wife-to-be. But just before he can say, "I do," a premarital fling from his not-so-distant past crashes the wedding.

A/N: This was lightly written under the influence of...well, I leave that to your imagination.


Alto touched his nape and sure enough it was wet with sweat. Cold sweat. He let out a miserable sigh as he traced the rim of his shot glass. In a few short weeks, he was going to be tied down. The idea appealed to him like the thought of jumping off a building. He called the bartender's attention for a refill. He got it in two minutes and finished it in five seconds.

Alto licked the flavor of the spirits over his lips, feeling a bit calm. He rarely went inside bars or pubs. Hell, he rarely drank at all—except for the occasional sake—but that was only occasionally. He called for another and in one gulp, he finished it but not without wincing from the cold that made his teeth chatter and brain hurt.

Alto massaged his temples. This is ridiculous, he thought. What did he gain by sitting here, drinking one glassful after another? Momentary reprieve from his problems perhaps...but that would be gone the moment the hangover would set in. He let out a shuddering breath. He felt like an idiot. Hell, he was an idiot. He was also a jerk. No doubting that. He felt the guilt bite him in the butt whenever he thought of Ranka's innocent smile.

He closed his eyes and tried to erase his fiancée's face from his mind. He succeeded as his ears caught a melodious song. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. There on the small-rise platform was a woman crooning out words to a song in acapella. She was beautiful. Alto gave her that. The lights made her hair glow pink and eyes sparkle. She had the right curves too…but he wasn't the least interested, voluptuous women were great and all but this woman had too much of everything.

He wouldn't be surprised if he learned that one or two parts of her anatomy were fake…not that he had any intention of learning about her anatomy. As she sang, she held the microphone in a way that made the men stare with keen fascination. She was crooning the words in a silky sexy voice that made one think he was listening to audio porn.

Alto turned back his attention to his empty glass. His hands were cold as he pressed his face to his palms. The singing stopped and applause sounded off as well as a few dirty remarks and catcalls. He heard someone shouting for encore— but no encore came.

Alto was contemplating leaving when he sensed someone's presence on the bar stool beside him. He lifted his face from his hands and peered to his side. It was her—the singer.

"Hello," she said, surveying him whole with no shame that made Alto feel violated.

Alto hoped the bad lighting concealed his flushed face as he nodded to her. "Hi."

"Did you like my song?" She asked him with twinkling eyes. They were blue—like the sky. Unless she was wearing contacts, then those peepers were certainly her best asset.

Alto gave her a half-smile. "Yes." Actually, he hadn't really been listening close attention, but he decided to pretend that she had asked him if he was turned on by it.

"Really now…" She signaled for the bartender. After placing her order, she turned back to Alto and asked, "What was I singing about?"

Alto blinked at the unexpected question. She was smiling smugly at him. "Well?"

He tried to recall. "It was about…umm…something." He turned his attention to his hands splayed on the counter in embarrassment. His cheeks felt hot—hotter, when she started laughing. It was a nice laugh, he thought. ..And the alcohol must be getting to him.

Her drink arrived but she didn't touch it—not yet anyway. She was more intent on making a conversation with him.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

He shrugged.

"Hm. Or are you in some sort of bad mood?"

He didn't answer.

"Having problems perhaps?"

Still, he did not answer.

"Woman problems?"

He stiffened, which made the woman grin.

"I'm right, aren't I?" She relished her small victory with a sip from her drink. She smacked her lips in satisfaction. "That hit the spot…"

She crossed her legs and smiled. "So tell me, did you have a fight with your girlfriend?"

Alto shut his eyes. "No."

"Oh. So what's wrong?" She actually sounded concerned for him, Alto thought wryly. The drinks he had was probably addling his brains because he actually felt like telling her his problems, which was stupid.

Then again…sharing his problem to this stranger might help him get an unbiased opinion. Michel and Luca hadn't been much help…and Ozma would kill him right on the spot if he talked to him about this nagging trouble. Maybe this woman would give him an honest and unbiased insight. God knows he needed one.

Bracing his thoughts, he looked at her with seriousness. Her smile faltered a bit.

"You want to know?"

She shrugged.

"I asked, didn't I?"

Alto took a few moments to gather his thoughts before telling her.

"I don't love her."

Silence was his response. He waited for a verbal answer. She stared at him with an unreadable expression. Alto stared right back at her. Then she brought one hand in the air, which garnered the bartender's attention.

"Give us two Firebombers."


Alto was laughing like an idiot. Wait, screw that. He was an idiot. The woman beside him was no better, hiccupping in between giggles.

"So…you're a pilot." She laughed at the spoken statement, pounding her fists on the counter like it was the funniest thing in the world. Alto grinned at her, while trying hard to keep his balance. He had already fallen off twice from his stool.

"You don't look like one…" She slurred, as she emptied the contents of her glass. She rubbed her tummy, looking extremely pleased. "I feel so warm." She giggled before erupting into fits of hiccups. Alto laughed at her, throwing his head back. His laughter seemed to fill the whole space. Sheryl joined him as she recovered.

"Ozma is going to grill my ass!" He declared, raising his glass in the air. Using his free hand, he gave a mock salute to an imaginary Ozma. "Sir, I cannot marry your sister!" He almost sounded sober when he said that.

"Hear, hear!" His drunken companion raised an empty glass to that. They brought their glasses together and laughed.

Alto felt wonderful. Drunk—but wonderful... Eyeing his friend, she looked like she felt the same. They drank and laughed until it was closing time and the bartender told them to get the hell out.


They were still laughing as they walked—err swayed to no certain direction.

Alto had thrown an arm over his female companion's shoulders, which were shaking from laughter.

It suddenly began to rain.

In a matter of minutes, they were drenched. They made no move and stood there unsteadily in the rain. People moved past them, giving them odd looks. They just stood there. The rain was increasing its intensity.

"Hey,"

He looked down at her face.

She peered at him with deep eyes.

"Want to go somewhere?"

He smiled, knowing the meaning of those words.


Articles of wet clothes lay carelessly strewn all over the floor.

The room was dark. There was no sound to be heard, save for the light shuffling on the bed.

"What's your name?" He asked, brushing a lock of sweat-plastered hair from her face. She snuggled closer to his body.

"Sheryl…"

Shortly after, she dozed off. Alto followed her, breathing in the scent of their sated bodies in his sleep.