Title: Delta, Alpha, November, Charlie, Echo
Fandom: The Phonetic Alphabet
Rating: G
Length: 479
Summary: The members of the Phonetic Alphabet are having their annual work do.

The annual work do was in full swing, the dance floor full of members of the Phonetic Alphabet having a good time.

As R-E-S-P-E-C-T played, India, Quebec and Zulu discussed culture and geography. Romeo had given Juliet the slip and was attempting to chat up X-Ray, who was looking straight through him. Whiskey was moving from group to group, smiling and chatting. But then people often found her soothing in social situations.

And away from the dancing, Charlie and his best friend Mike had found a table and were sitting catching their breath.

Charlie gazed out onto the floor, grinning. “Is that Tango and Foxtrot trying to dance together?”

“Crikey, it is.” Mike winced. “You can tell that’s not going to end well.”

Juliet drifted past them, looking from side to side and weeping. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo..?”

“He’s over there!” interrupted Charlie, pointing at the philandering husband.

Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Well,” said Charlie. “It’s always drama with those two.” He turned to Juliet. “And “wherefore” means “why”, incidentally.”

Juliet showed him two fingers and stalked off to talk to Romeo. Charlie rolled his eyes.

The song came to an end and Oscar, one of the organisers, appeared on the stage at the end of the room. He waited cheerfully for the raucous cheers to die down, and then began to speak.

“Well, it’s been another wonderful get-together…” He produced a sheaf of notes. “There’s just a few people I’d like to thank—without whom this wouldn’t have been possible…”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” called Mike. “Do we have to have the speeches, Oscar?”

There were many calls of agreement and Oscar tucked the notes away again, giving Mike a grin.

He addressed the crowd: “OK then—I shall pass you straight on to Bravo, who will announce who has won the title of Best Dancer tonight!”

Bravo came on to great applause. She pulled out an envelope, opened it, and removed a piece of paper.

“And the winner is….”

Everyone held their breath.

“Victor!”

“Every flaming year,” muttered Mike, clapping politely nonetheless as Victor collected his prize.

In the midst of the applause, another member of the organising committee strode officiously onto the stage. “Right. Time for everyone to go home now! It’s far past all your bedtimes!”

Everybody groaned.

“Bloody Papa,” said Charlie. “But I suppose we should be making a move.” He got up and looked at Mike. “Are you coming? The whole gang’s staying at Hotel’s.”

“Er, well,” said Mike, not quite making eye contact. “I think… I think I might stay at Oscar’s actually.”

Charlie frowned. “Are you sure? It’s going to be a lot of fun at Hotel’s place.”

“Yes, but…” Mike cleared his throat. “Me and Oscar want to be alone.”

Charlie looked bemused.

“Oh, bloody hell,” said Mike. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”