Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

[LadyPearl]

Here's some more fun from Lakehurst Naval Air Station!
............................................................

Omake Zoomie Shenanigans: He STARTED IT!!

Hindenburg was miserable! Not because of how her ass hurt and her ears still rung from Neunzer's summoning but because of what she had learned. Her whole first life had been a lie. Everything she'd been told to believe was a deception made by a regime so evil it changed the world forever. The same regime whose symbol she had once worn so proudly on her tailfins. It could never be removed completely. She had returned with it and the best she could do was blur it out until it became illegible to anyone who was lewd enough to look but its taint remained. It would always remain and Hindenburg would need to accept that. She did, reluctantly. Which was why she was currently sitting at a barstool at Alba's, less than 3 miles from the base. Bluenose had started out the night with her but after an urgent call from a fellow schooner (something about glitter in a helium tank) she reluctantly left. Thus Hindenburg sat alone nursing her last shot of whiskey. Being German, she'd started off with her country's traditional drink but after 3 or 4 beers she discovered she needed something stronger to drown herself in. So she ordered what the red-blooded Americans had and she'd nearly finished the bottle. She downed the last and looked at her now empty glass and the empty bourbon bottle beside it.

"Barkeep, you have anything else I could try?" Her accent had become stronger the more she drank. Hindenburg wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Said barkeep was a handsome young man who was some kind of Admiral's son if she was remembering what he'd said earlier right. "Haven't had enough yet?" He asked.

"I'll have enough vhen I'm stoned as you Americans say." She replied.

"Not from around here, are you?" He asked as he put down the towel he was wiping the counter with and went looking through his cabinets to suit the German's request.

"Been avay for a vhile." Hindenburg replied.

"Must be newly summoned, yes?"

"How'd you know?" She gaped.

"Most people that come through that door are ship-spirits." He replied with a shrug. "They want something to warm them up or drown their sorrow in, I provide that. And they drink enough spirits to send 6 grown men to the bathroom without the slightest hint of nausea."

"Hmmph. Vhat's the phrase I've heard? Ah yes, Sparkly Magical Ship-Girl Bullshit." Hindenburg replied, a bit smugly. There were some advantages to being a kanmusu she supposed.

He pulled out a large bottle from the rear of one of his overhead cabinets. "Try this." He said, pouring her a glass. "It wears out the tolerance like nothing else."

She grunted. "May as vell. Danke." She downed the glass in one gulp, feeling the cold liquid burn as it went down her throat. It wasn't a heavy kind like the whiskey she was drinking earlier and it settled in a cold ring around her stomach, its inherent properties numbing everything within reach. "Very strong." She said after a moment.

He chuckled, leaving her with the bottle as he went to serve another group of customers that had just walked in.

Hindenburg downed her second glass, then a third, then a fourth. It was after the sixth or seventh shot that the liquid began to have its effect on her. The inebriation her crew had experienced was different than this. She knew that. But something in that back of her mind told her she was drunk. Rip roaring drunk in fact. Her vision was blurred, everything seemed askew as though she was looking at it... upside down?

Hindenburg blinked. Yep, still upside down, no change. What's more she felt like she was floating, actually floating! Not an unusual sensation for her but even as new as she was, she had a firm grasp on when she was supposed to be airborne. But apparently that drink had caused that grasp to fail.

"Whoa!" She cried as she drifted towards the ceiling. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she hit the hard plaster, proof that she actually was floating and this wasn't some kind of hallucination.

Just then she heard the door chime and looking down she saw two American airships. The alcohol made it difficult for Hindenburg to see straight but she could make out the markings of ZRS-4 and ZRS-5. Both looked up at her a little startled and a little amused. The German felt her face flush. "Um, a little help?" She asked sheepishly.

................................................................................................

After the efforts of both airships succeeded and a ride back to race was arranged, Hindenburg found herself in the Admiral's office. Now that the affects of the liquid had subsided she could think and see with a clear head and more importantly, firmly planted feet.

"Great, my first day back and I screw up." She thought.

Admiral Caraway for his part said nothing, he just glared at her with that icy stare that spoke volumes without a word leaving his mouth. Hindenburg was beginning to wish he'd yell at her or something because that stare was starting to get a little creepy...

"Hindenburg?" His voice was unexpected and Hindenburg jumped a bit.

"Y-yes sir?"

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"N-nothing sir. No excuse sir." She answered, slipping back into the standard German professionalism that the Nazis had ingrained into her.

"Do you know what you were given at that bar?" He asked.

Now that she thought about it in hindsight, Hindenburg had a sneaking suspicion what had happened. "Helium." She sighed. Only Helium would have such an effect on her. She was a Hydrogen girl and the lighter Helium tended to have an interesting affect on her systems it appeared.

"Helium." The Admiral confirmed. "Anything else?"

"No sir."

"Good." And with that she was dismissed.

Once clear in the hallway, Hindenburg leaned against the wall and allowed herself a heavy sigh. "That could've gone worse." She thought.

Her navigation system alerted her to a pair of objects approaching at high speed. There was no time to dodge and Hindenburg braced herself...

Macon and Akron slammed into her belly, snuggling into her soft folds as their little arms gripped her sides.

"How'ditgo?How'ditgo?!" Akron squealed.

Hindenburg chuckled. In the short time she'd known them, Macon and Akron had proved to be adorable, exceedingly friendly, and very fond of hugs. She rubbed their little cat ears earning herself a purr from each. Lesson #1: All ship girls love headpats. Even airships!

Both girls looked up at her expectantly and she realized she hadn't given them an answer yet. "It went, better than expected." She answered at last.

Macon giggled. "So warrmm." She said, burying her face in Hindenburg's belly.

The German rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah kiddo." She scooped her up effortlessly and bent down so Akron could climb up on her back. Macon and Akron both linked their arms around her neck, little legs bumping against her sides as she made her way down the hall.

 

[theJMPer]

Battleship Arizona chuckled to herself at the vast logistical operation sprawling over most of the beach. And she wasn't talking about the MEU unloading supplies and weapons to shore up defenses. That was mere child's play next to the intricte enterprise that was Shinano playing in the sand.

Making sandcastles on the beach is not usually considered a logistically intensive operation. However, when the main agent in the construction of said sand castles is a timid, painfully self-conscious little carrier in the body of a six-three knockout with a bustline that puts even Mutsu to shame, things become far more complicated.

She'd tried to excuse herself from the sand she so plainly wanted to play with by claiming she'd forgotten her swimsuit. Jersey, however, had packed a spare one-piece for the littlest Yamato herself. The battleship even roped in all three Akizuki sisters to guard the tent while Shinano changed. Of course, getting Shinano into her swimsuit turned out to be the easy part. Even once she was dressed for bathing, she still had to be coaxed out of the tent.

Arizona had been too hungry to stay and watch the whole thing unfold. But Jersey was there when she left to collect her meal. And the big Iowa was still there when Arizona returned, still cooing gentle, almost motherly coaxing to the shy carrier. Arizona was astonished Jersey could be so gentle and soft, especially when she had to be fighting back a raging belly ache.

Eventually, Shinano was coaxed out of the tent and herded towards the beach. Jersey was by her side every step of the way, although Arizona couldn't help noticing the battleship clawing at her belly every few paces. It was only once Shinano had actually picked a spot and started digging that Jersey excused herself to get her much-delayed dinner.

Of course, the logistical miracle didn't end simply because Shinano was playing in the sand. No, Arizona was certain that would be too easy. All six destroyer girls formed a protective cordon around the carrier while Naka vetted Marines in twos and threes, careful to make sure Shinano never felt overwhelmed.

The Marines didn't seem to mind the wait, but they certainly enjoyed playing with the big carrier. Some offered polished brass casings as "knights in shining armor" to help defend the slowly-growing castle—eliciting a squeal of glee and a hug every time. Others proposed improvements to the castle's defenses. Still others were trying—so far fruitlessly—to teach crabs to charge. So far, they'd mostly succeeded in teaching them how to wield lances against their would-be masters.

Arizona smiled, and hopped off the concrete barricade she'd been sitting on. Watching Shinano play… it reminded her of Jane. The battleship let her coat flap behind her in the warm tropical breeze as she strolled down the beach. She would like to be a mother some day. She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her scarred skin as her bare feet squished into the soft sand.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the grains of sand squish between her toes and compact under her heels. Arizona hadn't felt anything like it before. She'd imagined walking on sand would feel something like the rough jolt of running aground, but it didn't. It felt… pleasant.

But before the standard could ruminate any further, she felt a large clod of sand crash squarely into her face.

Arizona blinked and wiped the sand from her eyes. What she was somehow more confusing than the utter lack of knowledge she had before she opened her eyes.

Prinz Eugen was stripped to her underwear—her uniform lay in a neatly folded pile atop her shoes—and her American-flag bandanna tied sweat-slicked hair back out of her eyes. The heavy cruiser stood in the middle of a perfectly cubical hole in the sand. Arizona was quite certain the edges were so sharp and crisp she could split a diamond without much effort.

"Prinz Eugen?" Arizona couldn't even find it within herself to get flustered over the cruiser's state of undress. Prinz Eugen's slender body was so drenched with sweat forcing her into any more clothing than she currently wore would be cruelty.

"Mustdigmustdigmustdig," Prinz Eugen didn't seem to notice the standard as she furiously expanded her hole, still somehow keeping the edges perfectly straight and true.

"Prinz Eugen?" Arizona spoke a little louder now. "May I ask what you're doing?"

The cruiser glanced over, and wiped a hand across her sweat-laden brow. "A-according to Reichstandards," her normally crisp German accent was breathless and exhausted as she spoke. "Beachdigging is only a satisfying experience if two cubic meters or more of sand is displaced."

Arizona blinked.

"I have documentation." Prinz Eugen pointed a finger at a foot-high stack of paper covered in very small writing and official-looking stamps.

Arizona blinked again.

"Every activity," Prinz Eugen stopped to draw a shaky breath. "Needs careful documentation. Otherwise it doesn't count."

Arizona could do nothing but blink. She couldn't even form a coherent sentence, because the moment she recovered long enough to even contemplate constructing a message she noticed Prinz Eugen's division mates.

Frisco was laying on her back, sunning herself in nothing more than cut-off denim shorts and a bikini that was scandalously small even by the standards of the time covering her nonexistent chest. But at least the Asian-American cruiser was wearing something on her lithe figure. Lou lay on her back with nothing beyond her own flaming hair to cover her olive skin.

This… this…

THIS WOULD NOT STAND!

Arizona felt steel groan as she balled her hands into fists. Her chest swelled with rage and her cheeks glowed a brilliant crimson. This was no way to act, especially in front of foreign ships! What kind of an example were the cruisers setting for Prinz Eugen? For the destroyers? Arizona might… tolerate Mutsu's lewd costuming, but to see her own countrywomen parade themselves like buffets of flesh and steel!

The standard was so enraged she couldn't speak. Her jaw was welded shut by the shear force of her burning fury. She tasted molten steel and burnt teak, and she was certain her boilers were going to overheat.

"Ay, Ari!" Jersey's rough contralto rolled over the beach like the report of a dozen mortars. Yes, Jersey. The battleship would know what to do. She might be born of a different era, but the amazonian Iowa had shown herself a reasonably competent officer. Surely she'd back up the standard's indignation.

Arizona pivoted on her heel and felt her spirits crash. Jersey was wearing a flag-print bikini and those scandalously short shorts. But not only that, she was groping herself with both hands with an intense look on her stern features. And she looked… less than completely in possession of her faculties. The big Iowa always swung her hips when she walked, but now her gait looked less like an elegant sashay and more like a drunken shamble.

"Do my tits look bigger than usual?" Jersey puncutated the question with a full-bodied squeeze on said feminine protrusions as a breath stinking of pizza grease and sale beer wafted from her mouth.

Arizona fumed at the battleship, to apologetic with rage to even try and put together a sentence.

"'cause I fucking swear my top wasn't this snug before." Jersey pried her hands off her chest and preened, either oblivious or uncaring to the standard's moral outrage. Arizona couldn't even tell if Jersey was slurring her words. For all the Iowa's amazonian tone, she barely find the effort to speak at the best of times. Her lazy, rumbling drawl always sounded like a tall glass of aged whiskey. "Ever fucking since we left Washington my tops've been getting snug around the middle. Think it's my kai?"

Arizona sputtered something beyond incoherent.

"'Could've just washed my shit wrong," Jersey sighed and planted her hands on her broad hips. "With my luck, that's what it fucking is. But a girl can hope, right? Get a rack to balance out this glorious American ass?"

"Commander." Arizona bristled.

"Heh," Jersey chuckled to herself. "Maybe even pass the fucking shirphobia motel." She shrugged those massive shoulders of hers and met the much shorter Standard's fuming gaze. "'sup, Ari?"

"Commander!" Arizona waved at the sunbathing cruisers. "You… you tolerate such impropriety among your girls!"

Jersey bent at the waist to look around the fuming standard at Lou and Frisco. "I do when they've got asses like that."

Arizona's face turned a brilliant shade of red, and her eyes almost glowed like coals fueled by the rage of a thousand furious schoolmarms.

"Ari…" Jersey planted a hand on Arizona's shoulder. Or tried too, it took her a few attempts to land the touch just right. "I'm like… twelve fucking beers down already, so imma be real fucking blunt here. She picked it up in Brazil and she likes it." The big battleship let herself fall to the sand in a heap of long legs and toned muscle.

"Yes, but—"

"Ari." Jersey slipped her shades down to lock her icy blue eyes on the plump standard. "For the first fucking time since this goddamn war started, we've actually fucking won something." She pounded her fist against the sand. "Not fucking held shit. Not fucking traded lives for fucking minutes while everyone run for the goddamn hills. Fucking won. Let people enjoy shit."

Arizona puffed out her cheeks and frowned. She couldn't quite fault the drunken Iowa's logic, but still! So much flesh on display! It just wasn't proper!

"And Ar~i~" Jersey's picked up a drunken lilt that sounded terrifyingly like Mutsu's scheming giggle. "Dun' forget I'm your CO. You keep acting like a sourpuss I'm putting you in a sling bikini."

"Jersey!" Arizona flushed at the mere thought of parading around in such little fabric. "You can't—"

"Can," said Jersey. "I'mma Commander. I can set the uniform of the day."

Arizona's jaw clamped shut. She'd expected a childish insult or off-color joke from the Iowa. But manipulating the letter of the law to get her way? Arizona was equal parts impressed and terrified by the fast-battleship's professionalism! Now if only she could harness that energy into fighting lewdness instead of enabling it.

"Oh. Ari?"

"Yes?" Arizona clasped her hands behind the small of her back and threw out her chest. New Jersey might be a slouching, scantily-clad battleship of the modern age, but Arizona took pride in bringing a level of old-fashioned class and decency to the table.

"'saw Pennsy brooding by the end of the runway," said Jersey. "You should go talk to her."

Arizona blinked back the first inkling of a tear and forced herself to stare at the twin steel titans that were Jersey and Shinano's massive hulls sitting at anchor next to the much smaller guided-missile destroyers. "Jersey, I— she…"

"Ari," Jersey pulled herself up into a sloppy cross-legged sit. "I would give everything I have… everything I'd ever have for thirty seconds with Wiskey. Go talk to your sister."

Arizona couldn't find the words to express how she felt. She satisfied herself with a small cough, and pivoted on her heel to march inland with steps as hesitant as they were purposeful. Jersey watched her go from her spot on the sand, trying and failing to ignore the way her curvy hips and chubby bust swayed and bounced with each step.

"Love," a chipper Australian accent belonging to a manifestation of pure malevolence that steadfastly refused to give Jersey a moment's peace sounded next to the tipsy battlewagon. "You need ta' get fucking laid, mate."

"Fuck you, Victory." Jersey scowled at the grinning little man-o-war. She'd dressed for the occasion in a frustratingly tiny Union-jack print bikini, although her massive-ass Admiral's hat was as cocky as ever over he jaunty eyepatch.

"Mate," Victory plopped down onto her slender legs next to the massively huger American. "If I thought it'd help, I'd offer. But I'm a figment of your imagination, 'meber?"

"Go fuck yourself," Jersey scowled and fell back onto the sand with a howl of impotent rage.

"No," Victory chuckled and prodded Jersey's breast. "Fuck yourself. I'm just in your head, mate."

"Why are you fucking here?" Jersey threw a punch at the tall ship's skinny middle, only for her hand to pass clean through like Victory was made of smoke. "There's always a goddamn reason you're bothering me."

"Mate," Victory adjusted her hat. "I like the sun and the sand. That a crime?"

"It is when you have an ass I could fucking play pool on."

Victory made a show of examining her lithe bottom. "'s not that flat, mate."

"Have you seen my fucking ass?"

"Love," Victory chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the whole hemisphere's seen your… hemispheres."

For a moment, the two warships stared each other down. Both were the queen of the seas in their time, the most powerful surface warships their nation field. Decorated and proud, and both with the same utterly awful sense of humor.

"Aaaaaaay," Jersey finger-gunned at Victory, who did the same with her one remaining hand. "That was fucking clever."

"British wit," said Victory. "You know, I like drunk Jersey better."

"I am not fucking drunk you tea-drinking cunt."

Victory rolled her eyes and let Jersey's playful haymaker coast through her face. "Ooh, right on the nose."

The battleship just chuckled and let her massive arm flop back onto the sand. "So, why are you really here?"

"'cause I hear there's a battleship in desperate need of a good dicking."

"Victory, not this again…"

Victory scowled. "Not you, you selfish Yankee."

Jersey picked her head off the sand just long enough to shoot an angry look at the tall ship. "Then fucking—" and then it dawned on her. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, that's tonight, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Mate."

"Fuck me, Richardson's as dense as a fucking log."

"Ya-huh." Victory nodded.

"Shit… shitfucking… fuck," Jersey scrambled to her feet. "I gotta… send a message."

Victory made a show of sending the big Iowa off. "Truly, the sisterhood of horny battleships knows no borders."

"Hardy-fuck you." Jersey barked out of the corner of her mouth while she fished her phone from her shorts pocket. She hated typing on the damn thing, but Mutsu's virginity—or taking thereof—was at stake. She fumbled in her lock code, and frantically opened up her text-messaging app.

Admiral Richardson, sir. It's Jersey.
I know you outrank me, but here me out.
*haar
*har
*her
FUCK ME IN THE SHAFT GALLERIES
*hear
um
anyway
See, you outrank me. But that's not always all of it.
Like, a medical officer can pull authority even if he isn't rankng.
*ranking.
It's like that.
See, you're the admira
MOTHERFUCKER
*admiral.
But Im a battleship
and more to the point, Im a horny as fuck battleship
Like seriously
you do not want to know what its like having the libido of two thousand horny sailors
it sucks
in that there is no sucking going on
or blowing
or any kind of sex thing
seriously its hell being so fucking horny all the damn time
it fucking hurts
but that's not the point
which is that I'm not the only horny battleship
Mutsu's too
you might not know
because, with all due respect, you duuuuuuuuumb
but sersly that boat neeeeeeds your admirally dick
like, bad
if you don't violate at least one of her holes by sundown the poor girl's gonna blow her turret.
again.
and… like.. not in a fucking fun
way that's not a sex meatphor.
*metaphor
she's too pent up with stress and shit.
her turrets gonna literally blow there will be like, shrapnel and stuff.
anyway
fuck
your
battleship
wife
she needs it
bad
don't even have to use a hole
there's this nip thing
where you take tiddy
and wrap it around your dick
and then fuck that it's called like
fucking
pizzarea or some shit
I don't fucking know, ask mutsu
better yet, do it to mutsu
because
as we've established
THAT
BOAT
NEEDS
YUR
*YOUR
DICK
FUCK
THE
MUTSNAIL
IN A SEXUAL WAY
'cause… seriously I am getting negative fucking action here
the least I can do is make sure she gets some.
oh, and admiral?
I have a bet with jane there better be babies

Click to shrink...

Jersey glanced at her string of messages with a smile. She'd done her part. She could only help the most deserving battleship on the planet had the least restful night a person could have.

 

[Farmerbob1]

Fairy Napping VIII

**

Looking around himself after setting down the now-empty water glass, Marine Gunner Frederick tapped the table with two fingers. "Well, it's been an interesting day, but I need to get back to the apartment. My wife and daughters are expecting me for dinner."

Gale nodded. "You seemed to get along well with the girls, and they liked you." Her face grew more serious. "If you can get along with the destroyers, most of the older shipgirls will be easier. If you want me to, I can put in a word for you…"

"My wife will almost certainly try to convince me to retire if there's no need for me on the Mighty Mo or The Big Stick. I'm too old and bunged up either for field deployment as a Marine, or even as part of a standard Marine training cadre." He tapped his fingers on the table, while closing his eyes in thought or memory. "But I can speak to her about it."

His fingers tapped the table once, fairly hard. "There is another possible problem that I want to make sure you have thought about. I'm a WO2. How is that going to slot into your organization?" As he finished the question, he opened his eyes to watch her reaction.

The ensign went immobile, briefly, then suddenly put a hand over her mouth and laughed into it for a second before regaining control of herself, dropping her hand, and starting to speak. "Rank really won't be a problem. Anyone under the rank of Admiral assigned to work with shipgirls is support staff, not command. Other than repair work, which neither you nor I will ever get anywhere near, the girls rarely need any sort of help being ships, or doing the work of ships. It's the 'girl' part that causes them issues. Your job would simply be to help them navigate being human, and you have daughters, so you've got qualifications some of us lack."

His eyes narrowed, slightly. "These three look to be around twelve or thirteen, and act like it when they aren't talking about tactics, strategy, or their history. Are they going to develop into older-looking, and potentially older-acting girls?"

"Vestal says the destroyers won't change in appearance unless they are upgraded, and they will still keep the appearance of girls. Mentally, we don't know, but we haven't seen any evidence of the Japanese destroyers becoming more adult in their dealings with humans." She grinned. "Let me guess, your daughters were handfuls after they hit fifteen or so?"

Shaking his head slowly. "Still are. At least the twins. They're sixteen. My oldest is twenty-three. Good kids, but the eldest sorely tested her mother and I, and the twins still do."

"Twins, you say? Identical?" Gale looked genuinely interested.

"Yup. Identical. Maria and I can tell them apart, mainly because of little physical habits they have, or phrases they use, but they can even fool us if they work at it."

The ensign looked genuinely interested in the fact that his youngest two were twins, so he asked "Twins aren't that abnormal. Why does that matter?"

"Well, we've been summoning a few ships recently, as you must be aware. If things continue to pick up speed and we start drawing more shipgirls out of wherever they come from, there are going to be a lot of same-class ships around." The ensign smiled, with false innocence. "Were you aware that 175 Fletcher class destroyers were launched?"

"No. I knew there were a lot of them though. You think my experience with human twins will help me deal with that?"

"Don't you? Before you had twins, you were just like the rest of us around other people's twins, weren't you? Your pair taught you to pay closer attention to details than most of us have to."

"Can't argue with that." He said as he pushed himself to a standing position with the cane, grimacing as he did so. "I'm not sure if it will be as useful as you think, since I didn't watch the Fletchers grow up, but I can see where you are coming from." He paused. "But, aren't Kidd, Dee, and Bannie all Fletchers? They look a lot alike, but not enough to be confusing. They even have different color hair."

"They are. USS Kidd, USS William D. Porter, and USS O'Bannon. However, we seem to be summoning ships with a lot of character first. As standouts, they act differently enough that it is easy to overlook how physically similar they are. The Japanese have several smaller same-class ships that are nearly impossible to tell apart. If we start summoning a lot more Fletcher-class ships, I think the latecomers are going to be more and more alike."

After a moment, Fred pushed his chair back under the table. "Like I said, I'll speak to my wife. No promises."

Gale nodded. "Thanks for at least thinking about it." Her eyes flicked towards the entrance of the bar.

Fred saw her eyes move and followed her glance. There was a rather impressive young woman headed towards the table he had shared with the Ensign. Washington. The battleship shipgirl, who was rumored to be romantically involved with the young officer he had been sharing a table with.

Gale waved and Washington waved back as she approached.

"I missed you at breakfast and lunch." Washington said as she covered the last couple feet.

"The Mystery of the Missing Medics, Wash. We were watching security videos and brainstorming with Kidd, Bannie, and Dee all morning and afternoon." Gale nodded to Fred. "Washington, meet Marine Gunner Frederick."

Fred shook hands with the battleship, while hoping that she didn't think he was trying to move in on Gale.

"Marine Gunner?" Washington tilted her head after releasing his hand, clearly expecting clarification.

"I served on Wisconsin, as a trainer for her main turret gunners. I had experience on her guns from the first Gulf War."

There was a brief expression of sorrow from Washington, then she sighed and nodded. "I see. Hopefully, she will return soon."

"I'd like that too, ma'am." Fred replied. "She was a good ship."

Washington smiled. "Indeed. She died alone, that makes her one of the best of us who died in action." The battleship looked back towards Gale. "Want to join me for dinner?"

"You did eat this morning and afternoon, right?" Gale started to stand with a concerned expression.

The battleship made a relaxed dismissive gesture with one hand. "Of course. I just missed you. Skipping meals wouldn't be prudent without a reason." Washington smiled and the two hugged.

"Goodbye you two, have a good dinner." Fred said before smiling, waving, and turning to walk towards the entrance of the Citadel.

On the way to the door all three destroyer girls ran up to Fred and wished him a good night. Each adorable in her own way. The Citadel Bar had been built to allow the girls and their fairies to interact with their crews, but what about interactions with humanity as a whole? The oldsters in the room, the decoration of the Citadel, and the hundreds of fairies interacting with the oldsters and each other underscored the fact that the destroyers were far more than girls.

Or are the girls far more than destroyers? He wondered to himself as he tousled Kidd's hair and gave back the bottle of Captain Morgan she had offered him.

 

[B-baka!]

Battleship USS Pennsylvania reporting for duty!

Spoiler

Note: I've spent days slacking off and participating in events. I've neglected Pennsy and decided to finish her.




Edit: So... What do you guys think?

 

[Old Iron]

This is silly. But I wanted to give her something for today.

* * * * *

As the morning sun rose into the sky, a slender hand reached out from beneath disheveled bedsheets.

It groped and searched in vain for a bedmate who was no longer there. A bedmate ho had taken their leave some time ago if the lack of warmth was any indication.

Slowly, the owner of the hand pulled herself free from the rest of the sheets and sat up with a bleary expression. Her sleepy green gaze gradually made its way over to the other side of the bed to confirm what her hand had already attempted to tell her. She was, without question, alone in bad.

"Too early..." Mutsu mumbled before flopping over onto her side. She absentmindedly pulled the sheets around her as she tried to make herself comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Just because she could go from a deep sleep to combat ready in moments should the need arise, did not mean she wouldn't luxuriate in the opportunity to relax away in bed.

Unfortunately, her mind had decided that waking up and facing the day was better than enjoying the calm and comfort of bed. Moreso now that she had discovered John was almost assuredly up and about.

With all the agility of her nickname, Mutsu sat up and freed herself from the sheets.

"Mmmmnn..!" She moaned and reached for the ceiling. Her back arched and popped, letting steel ease itself into place along her keel, while toned muscle stretched themselves out of slumber's grasp. Beneath the sheets, she splayed out her legs and spread her toes as far as she could. Oh, the pleasure of a morning stretch almost made up for having to leave the confines of bed.

Almost.

Mutsu loosed a breath and shook her shoulders, finally returning to the realm of the waking in full.

"May as well start the day." She hummed aloud.

"You might want to relax a bit more."

"Wha!?"

A giggle from the door drew her attention to an all too competent and stealthy cruiser entering the room.

"But you should probably put on at least a shirt if nothing else." Jintsuu pointed to the flimsy piece of cloth that barely qualified as an undergarment currently doing slim to nothing to conceal the battleship's upperworks. "At least before Arizona or Jane see you. Would you like me to grab one for you?"

"Yes, please." Mutsu had a feeling there would never be a day when she was able to see Jintsuu coming. Not when the woman didn't want her presence known. She idly tugged at the sheer fabric of her top while Jintsuu rummaged through her wardrobe.

She didn't have to wait long before a neatly folded short was handed to her. Along with a pair of panties.

Mutsu blushed brightly and looked to Jintsuu, who merely smiled knowingly.

"Thank you..." Honestly.

"You're very welcome." Jintsuu glanced towards the door and nodded. "You might want to hurry up. I think everyone's waiting on you now."

"On me? What for?" Mutsu blinked as she mentally went through the day's itinerary. There wasn't much to go through however. Mostly because today was-oh! Her eyes widened in realization. "My, I'd almost forgotten. Wait. You didn't."

"Oh, but we did. Now hurry up. I'll even turn around if you want me to." There was a teasing tone in Jintsuu's voice that Mutsu recognized as one she so often used. Particularly when the opportunity for fun was at it's highest. And especially when she could make John or Ari turn redder than a tomato.

Mutsu rolled her eyes and chuckled, simply choosing to dress herself in the offered garments right then and there.

"Alright. I'm done." She smiled with amusement at the faint dusting of red on Jintsuu's cheeks. Even you have your limits~

"Now then..." Jintsuu turned to the door and called out, "She's decent!"

With the horn sounded, the door to the bedroom was all but thrown open as the entire household and then some marched in. Each proclaiming a happy birthday as she entered.

"My, oh my! I didn't expect this." Mutsu couldn't hold back the surprise on her face or in her voice. Maybe something simple, but not a full blown operation!

"Ou! We wanted to make this one a big one." Shimakaze declared as she stood next to Jane and in front of Arizona, a parcel in hand.

"We did kinda miss out on your last birthday. So we're making up for it this year." Hiei grinned while holding a present of her own. "Breakfast in bed for the sleepyhead and presents afterwards."

"Everyone..."

"We all pitched in, Mutsu-mama." Declared Jane with a broad smile. She held up a tray filled near to overflowing with assorted muffins. "Hope you're hungry!"

"I'm sure she's quite hungry." Arizona held up her own plate of food offerings with one hand while the other patted Jane on the back. There was a twinkle in her eye that would have made Mutsu balk had she the time to appreciate it.

"Well, we can stand around all day. Or we can pamper the birthday girl until she can't stand it anymore." Richardson's voice rose above the din and a path was cleared so he could carry a rather sizable tray over to the bed. He smiled warmly at Mutsu. An expression that was returned tenfold. "Happy birthday, Mutsu."

Her happy expression was all but glowing.

"Thank you, everyone."

As everyone began serving her and offering up gifts, Mutsu had herself one of the best birthday's she could remember.

And Albie snuck a silly hat onto her head without anyone noticing.

She also stole Richardson's pants.

* * * * *

EDIT:

Spoiler: Birthday Girl

 

[theJMPer]

Large Cruiser Alaska wasn't quite sure how to describe the vexing sensation gnawing at her stomach, which would have worried her if she wasn't already so wound-up. She'd had a light breakfast—only a few dozen pancakes with just a small drizzle of syrup—in anticipation of the barbecue, but she'd been hungry before. This wasn't hunger she was feeling deep within her slender tummy, it was… it was…

What was it?

On the one hand, Alaska was excited to see Cameron again. The Kagerou triplets had enthusiastically cautioned her to avoid using the words "I love you" in case that drove him off, but… But Alaska did love him! Every time she saw his smile it felt like fireworks were going off inside her chest, but in a good way. The sky was always a little bluer and the air a little sweeter when she was around him, and Alaska could honestly say she'd never been happier than when he had his arm around her.

The large cruiser liked to think she wasn't clingy—although she wasn't sure how true that actually was—but every moment away from Cameron felt just a little dimmer. Not… horrible just… not as bright and sweet as it could've been.

And… well, Alaska might not know much about anything. But she'd been home to over fifteen-hundred seamen once, many of whom were Cameron's age. Alaska knew the affect a pretty lady could have on a young man, and she couldn't wait to show her love the swimsuit she'd picked out.

It was a really cute two-piece affair in the same crisp-white color as her snowy hair. The top was a high-necked cut that gave her distinctly indistinct chest lots of coverage without hiding much of her well-muscled back. Her hair did that well enough, and if she just happened to brush it away while Cameron was looking… couldn't be helped, right? Alaska put a lot more thought into picking out the bottom half of her swimsuit.

She was fully aware she was prettiest below decks, and she was also aware of how pleasant a well-proportioned tush like her own shapely aft was to a young man. She wanted to show off for Cameron, but… not look like she was trying to show off. She'd finally settled on a nice pair of snow-white boyshorts that hugged her legs and gave her shaft galleries just the right amount of tantalizing coverage.

And, if that was the end of the story, Alaska would have known how to describe the feeling in her belly. Happiness! But Cameron wasn't the only person Alaska would be meeting. She also had to make a good first impression on his parents, or… or…

Alaska didn't want to think about it. If she made a fool of herself… if his parents didn't like her… if… if they forbid him from seeing her, she knew he'd acquiesce. He was a good boy, an honest, obedient, hard-working boy. It was why she loved him so much, but it was also why she was so utterly terrified. What if they hated her! What if they thought she wasn't good enough!

Alaska was too scared to put her thoughts into words, so she settled for planting her face between the comforting softness of Atago's bosom and moaning out a pitiful "'Tagoooooooo~"

Atago giggled and idly stroked her best friend's snowy white hair. The heavy cruiser had been almost as excited about the beach party as Alaska was, and she'd spent hours picking out just the right outfit. She'd settled on an—in Alaska's educated opinion—adorable little bikini in the same coral-blue color as her greatcoat. "'Laska, you're cute."

Alaska just burrowed her head deeper into her best friend's comfortingly warm cleavage. "'knooooow."

"You'll do fine," Atago chuckled and let her hand slide down Alaska's sinewy back. The American wasn't nearly as plush as she was. Where Atago's body was mostly soft with just a hint of the steel underneath, you couldn't find a place on Alaska where you couldn't find twitching American muscle lying like sleeping pythons under skin as beautiful and unblemished as fresh-fallen snow. "He likes you."

Alaska huffed something into Atago's cleavage and pulled her head free with a grunt. Before she could elaborate, the screech of howling air brakes and straining metal filled the air. A sudden reminder that while she might look like a sinewy young athlete, Alaska was one fat boat.

Atago giggled, and her tummy jiggled a bit in mirth. "Too many pancakes, 'laska?"

Alaska blushed bright red and folded her sinewy arms over her itty-bitty titties. "'m not that fat."

Atago just chuckled to herself and clambered aft to the door. Her chest swelled as the big cruiser sucked in a massive breath, her cheeks puckered with a smile and she leaped to the sand with a thundering "Pan-papapapanpaka~pan!" to properly herald her arrival. "Atago is here!"

Alaska smiled and stepped down the ladder as casually as she could. Cameron's family—and most of their block, if Alaska's count was at all accurate—had already set up over most of the beach. There were grills and smokers galore, and it took herculean effort on the cruiser's part to keep from drooling all over her fresh new swimsuit. "Hi," she said with a wave to nobody in particular.

Cameron was the first to react. He hurled a tennis ball to the horizon, sending a huge golden retriever that seemed to be made up almost entirely of floof and happiness bolting into the surf. Alaska wanted very much to hug that dog. She wanted it so much in fact she almost didn't notice Cameron's shirt.

Or rather…

lack thereof.

"H-hi Cameron," Alaska hoped her voice wasn't audibly faltering as badly as her brain was. She'd never seen Cameron shirtless and… well… it was making her feel things she'd rather not have mentioned in her log, at least not yet.

"Hey, 'Laska!" Cameron trotted over and—much to the large cruiser's glee—swept his gaze over her from stem to stern. Mostly stern. Alaska even remembered to throw out her hip a bit to give him a better angle. "You're uh…"

"Do you like my outfit?" said Alaska with an innocent smile. Genuinely innocent, actually. Seeing Cameron again made her so happy she'd totally forgotten the vamp routine Atago made her practice on the way over.

"I, uh…" Cameron's eyes drifted to her tummy only to snap back to her ice blue eyes when he noticed what he was doing. "'Laska, you know I'd say that about anything you wore."

"Heh," Alaska giggled as a dopey smile forced itself onto her face. She loved Cameron so much. Just being around him made her happy. "Gimme a kiss?" she asked hopefully.

"Anything for the lady." Cameron stood on tip-toes to bring his lips to her cheek for a quick kiss. On the soft grass, he had to steady himself by putting a hand around her slender waist. Alaska enjoyed that part immensely. "Atago, do you—"

Atago was already most of the way down the beach, with about nine boys—and two girls with brightly-colored hair—all competing for the privileged of showing her which way the water was. The big heavy cruiser was clearly enjoying second of it.

"Um…" Cameron chuckled.

"Yeah," Alaska scooched closer until her hip touched his. "She does that."

Cameron put his hand around her waist, and the large cruiser shivered when his thumb brushed against the soft muscle of her belly. "Hey, Ma!"

"Coming, Cameron!" A slender Asian-looking woman wearing a dazzle-pattern bikini and cuttofs walked over with the kind of smirk on her lips Alaska'd grown used to seeing on Texas. Or Kat, for that matter. Alaska hadn't seen Kat in a while, which was something she should remedy. Kat was nice and enjoyable to hug.

"Mom," Cameron gave Alaska's waist a gentle squeeze, just to let her know he was there for her if she needed him. "This is Alaska. 'Laska, this is my mom."

Alaska wasn't sure if she should bow, curtsy, or just offer a hand. So she just kinda figited in place for a few moments then blushed. "N-nice to meet you!" Alaska hoped her voice hadn't cracked as obviously as she was certain it had.

"So you're the girl who stole my son's heart, hmm?" Mrs. Young smiled at Alaska, but her gaze soon started creeping downwards. The woman soaked in every detail of Alaska's sinewy build with her knowing gaze, but Alaska could tell she wasn't being leered at. More… sized up. Was Mrs. Young deciding if she was worthy wife material for her son? Alaska puffed out her humble chest in the hopes that that would somehow help.

"Sweetie, turn around would you?" Mrs. Young drew circles in the air with her finger.

Alaska obligingly did a circle in place.

"You've got quite the aft there, honey."

"Thank you," Alaska blushed. "But… really you should tell New York Ship."

Mrs. Young's lip twitched in disgust at the mention of that Yankee sate, but a smile replaced it a moment later. "You know, you'd look amazing in a nice drop-waist gown."

"Really?" Alaska perked up.

"Mmm, strapless with a little bit of ruffle." Mrs. Young smiled at the large cruiser. "It's look beautiful with that hair of yours."

"T-thank you!" Alaska beamed. Moments later, the compulsion to hug Cameron's mother entered her mind, and Alaska had learned long ago she was powerless to resist her body when it decided hugs were on the menu. It turned out to be a good decision, Mrs. Young was almost as soft as Kat.

"Ain't nothing, sweetie." Mrs. Young returned the hug with one of her own. "Come by the shop sometime, I'm sure I've got something in your size if you want."

Alaska squealed with joy. She liked playing dress-up almost as much as she liked playing with toys. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Young!"

"Call my Christy, sweetie." Mrs. Young—Christy—ruffled the cruiser's hair.

Before Alaska could respond, her belly let out a terrifyingly loud roar and the cruiser caught herself cradling her poor starving middle. "Uh…"

"Ribs are right over there, honey." Christy waved at a park table overflowing with food—most of witch was in some way meat-derived.

Alaska decided another hug was in order, but only a short one. She was hungry after all. "Thank you!"

The large cruiser darted over to take her place in line, and before long a massive creature who identified himself as Bill Young, Cameron's dad, was heaping ribs, brisket, and even piles of barbecue shrimp onto her plate. Alaska was reasonably sure Mr. Young was a person, but she wasn't willing to rule out the possibility that he was in fact a hastily-shaved bear.

He seemed to have no face beyond bushy eyebrows the color of granite and an equally bushy beard, but somehow Alaska could tell he was smiling when he rumbled off his name. "Thank you, Mr. young!"

"Bill," said the monstrously huge man-bear-thing manning the grill.

Alaska giggled. She liked him already. This was going to be a good day!

—|—|—​

On the other side of the world, Battleship New Jersey was having a decidedly less pleasant day. The sun had already set over the tiny rock in the china sea—although someone had rigged up a few floodlights to make sure Old Glory stood proud and clear on a pole that'd days earlier been flying a Nazi swastika. Most everyone on the island was asleep, save for a few Marines standing watch and the taffies going around handing out rip-its and candy bars.

How many of said rip-its the destroyers had ingested before embarking on their good-will tour was the kind of question Jersey didn't want to know the answer to. She didn't need to know what the little shits put into their tiny bodies and she didn't want to know. As long as they stayed out of her luxurious strawberry-blond hair, she didn't really care what they got up to.

Especially now that she had problems of her own.

The amazonian battleship stomped up and down the beach with a scowl on her face. Every few steps she'd alter course and grind her massive thighs against each other, trying to alleviate the pain festering under her bikini.

"Pick up," Jersey glared at her phone. "Pick up you fucking coal-burning bitch."

The battleship had been painfully horny when she weighed anchor for this mission, and that was days ago. Watching Ari and Pennsy with their overbuild Standard upperworks jiggling with every wave and step had driven her close to madness, and things had only gotten worse once she'd made landfall. Jersey might have been able to block out the Standard tiddly, but hundreds of sweaty Marines digging trenches while stripped to the waist? That'd drive any woman mad.

"Pick up you cocksucking cuntboat!" Jersey roared in anger, trying to ignore the pain between her legs. It was like she was fucking a goddamn rasp, and it fucking hurt. She'd tried to address the problem, but… well… when she offered to help Pennsy work through her issues with a good old-fashioned railing, the standard just got prissier than usual. Jersey'd been forced to take measures into her own hands.

Which had been an un-fucking-mitigated disaster, as per fucking usual.

"Repairship Vestal," The ancient auxiliary sounded even grouchier than usual over the tinny speakers of Jersey's phone. "If you're drunk it's your own damn fault."

"I'm not drunk," Jersey squirmed and collapsed onto the beach.

"Oh," Vestal's voice perked up a bit. "Hey, Jersey. What's going on?"

"I'm horny as fuck and there's not one fucking willing officer on this goddamn rock."

"You try uh…" Vestal coughed. "Getting yerself off"

"That's why I'm fucking calling." Growled Jersey. "How the flying fuck do I get sand outta my fucking shaft galleries!"

Vestal's response was to howl with laughter for thirty consecutive minutes and then hang up.

—|—|—​

"Wait a second." Alaska almost dropped her half-finished watermelon as a shocking revelation occurred to her in a flash.

"Hmm?" Cameron glanced over at her. "'laska, you got a little…"

"Huh?"

"On your cheek."

"What?"

"Some sauce," Cameron pointed to the offending smear right by Alaska's lip.

"Oh." Alaska didn't bother wiping it away. She just closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

Cameron rolled his eyes, but obligingly gave the large cruiser another kiss. "So, what'd you realize?"

"Well…" Alaska scooted her hips to be closer to her love. "Your mom works at a wedding store, right?"

"Bridal, but yeah," said Cameron.

"And she's sizing me up for a dress, right?"

Cameron wrapped his hand around Alaska's middle and idly stroked at her sinewy tummy. The large cruiser had to have eaten close to her own volume already, but the only evidence was a tiny, almost imperceptible, softening to her abs. She was still as slim as ever, still as cool to the touch as ever. It was like cuddling a fresh ocean breeze, only cuter. "Yeah."

"That means…" Alaska trailed off into a wordless squeal of glee.

Cameron chuckled and gave her belly a little pat. "'Laska…" He trailed of, not sure of what he should say. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, and that… that the moment he graduated, the moment he got a job that could support such a fine woman-who-was-also-a-boat as her he'd want nothing more than to marry her. But… he didn't say any of that. Even if he could find the words, well… He… it was just a silly fantasy anyway right?

"Um…" Alaska blushed and suddenly bolted to her feet. "I… gotta talk to your mom about something."

—|—|—​

Warrant Officer Sarah Gale smiled to herself and chuckled at the absurdity of it all. To think, there was a time she thought of Wash as a supernatural goddess of beauty and grace. A time when she thought the seagoing spirit was the avatar of feminine grace, a lofty standard that even in her wildest dreams a lowly sailor could never hope to reach.

That was before Wash attempted to help her shower using a fire hose. Before the big battleship had demonstrated her eager ignorance of all but the most basic elements of love. Before Wash had sheepishly let herself be guided through the process of making love amidst of pile of mussed blankets and straining bedframe rails.

Of course, Gale still thought Wash was supernaturally beautiful. It was one reason she was more than happy to share her bed with the titanically heavy battlewagon. Wash's russet brown hair spilled over the pillow like a great sea of molten copper, splaying down the covers and nearly getting into Gale's face. The smell of nutmeg and oil filled the room with its sweet aroma, and Gale idly stroked her fingers along the battleship's tight stomach.

"Wash?" Gale leaned over and nibbled at the battleship's ear.

"Hmm?" Wash let out a quiet hum. The big battleship had been eager to please, but that was nothing compared to how readily she took to Gale's talents. It was a wonder the bedframe was only as badly damaged as it was.

Gale opened her mouth, but no words came out. She'd given up on ever having kids before she even accepted her sexuality. Maybe she'd adopt but… she knew she'd never carry a child within her, right? But that was before demons-who-were-also-boats rose from the abyss, only to be stopped by ships-who-were-also-girls. And as she idly stroked at Wash's belly, she couldn't help but picture the battleship with a bun in the oven.

It was a nice picture.

"Mmm?" Wash rolled over to face her love. Something that was much easier said than done, considering her immensely plush chest. But somehow, Wash managed to complete the motion without putting Gale's eyes out with her main battery. No doubt the several dozen faeries sitting atop the headboard with tiny semaphore flags helped.

Also, it meant Gale could get a solid grip on Wash's ample aft, which was always welcome.

"Um…" Gale was momentarily distracted by the deep hazel of Wash's eyes. The battleship was so gorgeous, even if you didn't count her amazing rack and jaw-dropping aft. "I… you ever thought about, um… children?"

Wash's eyes rolled shut and she leaned in to nuzzle Gale. "A little," she said between kisses to Gale's neck. "Sarah, I don't want kids."

"Hmm?" Gale shivered as Wash's hands worked over her back.

"I want your kids." Wash pressed herself against the sailor and smiled.

Gale couldn't come up with a response to that, so she just kissed Wash firmly on the lips. "I'm not sure it works that way," she said, knowing full well the realm of ships-who-were-also-boats was so far beyond her experience it wasn't even in the same universe. "But…" she rolled atop the big battlewagon, "I'll give it a try."

—|—|—​

"Um… Mrs. Young?" Alaska held her paper plate in both hands. She'd originally planned to offer her aid with the dishes as an excuse to have some 'girl time' with her boyfriend's mother. But that plan kinda fell apart once she realized they were using paper and plastic. She kept holding onto the plate though, it gave her hands something to do.

"How can I help you, sweetie?" Christy glanced up from her own meal and smiled at the blushing cruiser.

"Um…" Alaska rubbed her foot against the muscle of her calf. "Can… can I talk to you for a moment?"

It only took a heartbeat for Christy to catch the cruiser's meaning. She smiled, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, and excused herself from the table. "Of course, honey." She lead the cruiser to a more secluded part of the beach and put a comforting hand on Alaska's shoulder. "What's up?"

"Um…" Alaska flopped onto the ground with her long legs sprawled out on the sand. "Are… are you really sure I'm good enough for Cameron?"

"Alaska…" Christy planted her hands on her hips and gave the cruiser a look. "Honey, what's gotten into you?"

"Well… what you said earlier," said Alaska. "About… a dress and…"

"A gown Alaska," said Christy. "For a wedding."

"That's the point," said Alaska with a quiet sniffle. "Do… do you know much about my class?"

"Can't say I do." Christy settled onto the sand next to the quietly despondent cruiser and wrapped an arm around her snowy middle. "Why?"

"We're… we're not good for anything," said Alaska. "We're not battleships my—" she patted her toned tummy—"My belt's only nine inches, and I don't have anything below the waterline."

Christy shot a meaningful glance at Alaska's very well proportioned aft, but said nothing.

"If you need a battleship, you'd use an Iowa," Alaska sniffed. "And— and if you wanted a cruiser… a Baltimore does everything we can for a lot less money."

"And…?" Christy ruffled Alaska's snowy hair.

"Jus'…" Alaska sniffled. "Are… are you sure that I'm… you know… enough for him?"

Christy looked at Alaska and started to laugh. Quietly at first, but soon she was clamping her hands over her mouth to try and contain her mirth. "S-sweetie… you don't know how he looks at you, do you?"

Alaska glanced over with a look of puppy-dog curiosity on her face. "Huh?"

"Cameron…" Christy chuckled. "Bless your heart, child. Cameron doesn't want a battleship or a cruiser, he wants you."

"He does?" said Alaska with more surprise than she liked to admit.

"He does," said Christy. "A mother knows these things. I've seen the way he looks at you… the way he checks out your butt every time you turn around."

Alaska giggled. So her swimsuit was working! She threw her arms around Christy and buried her face in the slender woman's belly. "Thank you!"

Christy smiled and tousled the cruiser's hair. "You're welcome, sweetie. Now… why don't you go play with your boyfriend. You've hardly touched the water all evening."

—|—|—​

"This seat taken?" Kirishima swished her hips inquisitively, letting the frilly fringe of her high-waisted—and correspondingly extremely short—skirt rustle against the pale skin of her supple thighs. She held her tray with both hands, angling it to keep her mountain of pancakes from brushing against the golden chain hanging between her small but well-appointed pagodas.

"Of course." Crowning glanced up from his own, far more meager breakfast of oatmeal and milk. "You're up early."

Kirishima shrugged, and settled into a chair right across from the intriguing academic. A part of her was amazing Jersey ever found him interesting. He was so… not her. So quiet and reserved, so gentle and kind of nature. Nothing like the bold, brash American.

But at the same time, there was a kind glint in his eyes that Kirishima couldn't help but be comforted by. Whenever she was talking to him, or even with him, the littlest Kongou felt safe and secure. She could only imagine how much more appealing that security might be to Jersey. Kirishima did't like to spread rumors, but… in her opinion Jersey's fragility was pretty obvious. The poor girl'd been through a lot.

"Kirishima?"

"Huh?" Kirishima belatedly realized she'd been staring, and a blush colored her cheeks. "Sorry. I… I'm not actually up early."

A single eyebrow crept north on Crowning's face, and he took a bite of toast in an interrogative fashion.

"I didn't sleep at all last night," Kirishima poured herself into the chair and sighed. She knew she should be happy—and she was—but… still…

"Oh?" Crowning said. It was a quiet acknowledgement of her situation, but not quite a question. It left her just enough space to explain if she wanted, while making it easy for her to ignore if the situation was to private to reveal. Kirishima appreciated his candor.

"I'm… trained for night battles," said Kirishima. "Part of that is honing my senses and learning to be aware of everything. I don't have radar as a crutch. And last night…" The battleship scowled. Be happy for her. Be happy for her. "Wash and Gale, um… kept me up."

"I'm sorry." Said the quietly serene voice that could only belong to one battleship.

"GAH!" Kirishima jumped so high she almost hit her head on the ceiling. "Wash! Stop doing that!"

Wash just blinked in serene innocence. Crowning scarfed down a slice of toast to hide his laughter.

"Sorry," said Wash.

Kirishima huffed. "A-apology accepted, Wash. Did… did you have a nice night?" She didn't want to know the details. Really… really didn't want to know. But at the same time, she loved Wash and wanted to make sure her friend was being treated well.

Wash nodded. "Very much, yes."

"Good," Kirishima sighed.

Without a word, Wash vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared.

"Someday I'm going to figure out how she does that," said Crowning with casual nonchalance.

Kirishima chuckled, almost more to herself. "Doctor?"

"Arthur," said Crowning reflexively.

"Arthur." Kirishima corrected herself. "Do… do you think you could take a look at something for me?"

"Sure," said Crowning. "More writing?"

"A new story, yes." Kirishima handed him a slim notebook. "It's… uh… an old knight finds herself on a strange shore."

"Always an interesting start."

"Thank you," said Kirishima. "She… um… falls in love with the magician."

Crowning shot her a knowing smile.

—|—|—​

Pleasantly warm water of the Mexican Gulf washed against Alaska's tummy as she waded out up to her hips. Her belly was full of every kind of meat imaginable, so full that every wave that crashed against her slender body sent her dinner sloshing around inside her, eliciting a fury of giggles from the big cruiser. She was so full, in fact, that her tummy was noticeably less tight than usual. It was a very pleasant experience for the cruiser, and she would very much like to enjoy more of Christy's cooking soon.

"Hey hey," Cameron waved at her and playfully splashed saltwater at her face. Alaska didn't bother retaliating. Mostly because getting splashed with saltwater was all she ever did, but mostly because Cameron was shirtless and soaking wet, which made it impossible for her to focus.

"Hi," Alaska threw her arms around him and kissed him. They were far enough from the shore that she didn't feel quite so self-conscious about being affectionate. Also, he tasted like salt and boy, which made her happy.

Cameron braced himself against the sudden assault. His grip on her hips was firm, but gentle enough for Alaska to giggle with glee. "Someone's happy."

"'m always happy around you," Alaska nuzzled at her boyfriend's face and wrapped her arms around his strong back. The gentle motion of the waves jostled her hips, pressing them against Cameron's with each swell. Alaska enjoyed it too much to bother trying to stop.

Cameron chuckled and steadied the weak-kneed cruiser. "Me too," he said. "'Laska, I… uh…" he blushed. "Look at that sunset."

Alaska pivoted, her well-proportioned aft brushing against him as she settled into his arm. "Wow." The sea was on fire with the glimmering colors of the sun. Alaska closed her eyes and let the evening rays wash against her salt-dampened skin. "This is nice."

"It is, isn't it." Cameron pulled her a little closer, and Alaska wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She really, really wanted him to hold her a little lower, but his hand stayed steadfastly around her waist. Which was okay, she guessed, but she'd really like to have him touch her aft. Just once would be okay.

"Um…" Alaska rested her head against his shoulder. "Do… do you wanna go ashore?"

"Mmm…" Cameron idly drew circles on her tummy with his finger, eliciting a few dopey giggles from the cruiser. "Do you?"

"Not really," said Alaska.

Cameron smiled. Then glanced at his feet through the choppy water. "Screw it."

"Hmm?"

"'Laska." Cameron shifted. Instead of standing side by side with the cruiser, he let his hands hang loosely off her hips and looked her square in the eyes. "I… know I'm not supposed to say this, but…"

"I love you," said Alaska. The large cruiser smiled that dopey, lidded smile she wore around him and leaned in for a kiss. "'m not supposed to say it either."

Cameron smiled. "I love you, 'laska." He closed his eyes and met her lips in a long kiss. He wasn't sure if he stepped in, if Alaska did, or if it was just the waves, but the next thing he knew the cool kiss of her skin was touching his. Her soft breasts tickled at his chest, her tummy brushed against his stomach, and her cool lips danced with his.

He knew he should probably be thinking about how hot the woman in his arms was, or something like that. But he wasn't. All he could think about was how happy Alaska was, and how happy that made him.

 

[7734]

Waking up, Cameron blinked idely. His eyes were jammed full of something, and his arms were lethargic when he tried to move them. Well, as he wiped the gunk out of his eyes, one arm was working because it was a tired arm. The other arm was...

well...

uhhhh....

Looking at Alaska, Cameron gulped. She was on his left. It was his right arm that was still stuck. Turning his head carefully, he traced the line of his right arm from his shoulder, down his forarm, boobs with a side of blond hair, there's his wrist, okay, hand that seems to be operational. Alright, back up the wrist, hint of elbow, light blue t-shirt wrapping two warm mountains of topweight that had arms locking his right into her chest. As blonde hair spilled down her front, Cameron breathed out silently. It was Atago. That wasn't so bad: she was okay. Alaska knew her, so this probably wouldn't end horribly, as in fed-to-the-destroyers.

Alright. It was time to get to work constructing an alibi, or an escape plan, or a faked passport to Mexico-

"'mrgmrle... Cameron! Oh, you're up!"

As 'Laska smiled at him, Cameron smiled back, all thoughts of fleeing vanishing in an instant. "Hey, 'Laska..." he mumbled, his sleepy girlfriend smiling at him. "So... uh... Atago..."

"Yes?" Alaska said, smiling. "Oh! I need to make the tea!"

"Tea?" Cameron asked,gulping.

"You got really sick, remember?" Alaska asked, turning away from the room's microwave. "I had to get up and go on my duty shift, I'm sorry!"

"I got sick?" Cameron asked, gulping. "When?"

"Last week!" Alaska said, bustling over to him and giving him a hug. "Your mom was all worried, but I brought you over to the base hospital. They said we couldn't visit the regular kind, so... uh..."

Cameron gulped, and pointed silently at the microwave flashing morosely. As Alaska got it and put in the teabag, she smiled at him again. "Thanks, 'laska. Thanks a lot."

"It's nothing!" Alaska said, blushing and putting the tea on the bedstand. "It's just, last time I had to sorte, you got so much worse! So, this time, I put you with Atago just in case, and when I got back I was so tired and 'Tago looked so comfy and I didn't think you'd mind-"

As Cameron snerked out a laugh, he reached out and hugged Alaska, who fell onto him as her feet slipped and skidded. Landing with her face on his chest, he tried to help her into bed, the snow-white hair he'd learned to see as something just as hers nuzzling up under his chin.

"To tell you the truth," Cameron began, blushing a little, "I thought we might have done something really stupid after someone gave us something to drink."

"Oh?" Alaska said, screwing up her brows, before she noticed her little counter in the apartment-like room's kitchenet and the half-empty bottle of Seagrams on it. "Oh! Ah, no, no! Nothing like that! The whiskey was for your throat when you started coughing bad! The doc said that and equal parts lemon and honey in water would help more than any medicine he'd proscribe!"

Cameron nodded, hugging 'Laska. "I didn't know." he explained, carefully. "I... the last thing I remember was the beach..."

Smiling, Alaska carefully kissed him on the cheek. "You were sick. Really, really, terribly sick."

"fufufufufufufufufu..." a voice behind them went, and both 'Laska turned their heads up to look at the smiling Atago.

"Hi, 'Tago." Alaska said, smiling. "You looked so comfy!"

"I was." the blonde said, smiling. "I like Cameron. He's just the right size to snuggle- oh, you're so lucky!"

"I know!" 'Laska said, beaming, before a slyer smile slipped on her face. "Say... 'Tago, you like the really tight snuggles, right?"

"Yes!" Atago said, grinning.

"Well, I know snuggles with you always make me feel better, so maybe if you snuggle with him..."

"Ooh!" Atago said, before blinking. "Are you sure I can, though?"

'Laska nodded. "I'm here, so I don't mind."

As Cameron tried to follow the conversation through his flu-intensified gaze, he breathed in luckily before Atago smothered him in a big, full-body hug. As Alaska plastered herself on his back, he carefully worked a nose over the seas of cleavage presented and smiled. 'Laska was here. It was okay. As white and blonde hair entangled each other, he took a deep breath and smiled, before slowly drifting back towards sleep while a warm hand rubbed his head.

----

The doctor looked over Cameron, glaring.

"Son. You went from constant 102 fever that spiked high enough for us to check for brain damage on *nine* occasions, and then after one night spent semi-conciously snuggling with two shipgirls you think you're walking out of here because your fever broke?"

"Yes?" Cameron asked, still leaning on 'Laska, who just kinda smiled at 'Tago who was mostly in their laps sprawled towards them like a large, cruiser-shaped blanket.

"NYET!" the doctor roared. "You're staying penned up in here for at least another week with these two! Now, bed rest, warm food, and your antivirals are on the counter. If you skip one I will ram it up your ass God help me!"

"Yessir." Cameron said, gulping.

"No funny buisness. Get better. Alaska, call us if something wierd happens." the doctor said, before storming out.

"Yay?" 'Laska said, before Cameron gave her a nuzzle. "Yay." he replied smiling at her as Atago napped on their laps and chests. "I like it here. You're nice and cool, 'Laska, and it feels nice too where Atago's so warm..."

As her boyfriend started to drift back to sleep, Alaska smiled and closed her eyes to join in her best friend and boyfriend's group nap.

 

[Farmerbob1]

Fairy Napping IX

**

"Lace, the patient in room 604 has made a bit of a mess on the floor. Orange juice. Could you go mop it up?"

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded to acknowledge the floor nurse at the desk, and pushed the dust mop towards the cleaning supply cabinet. When I arrived, I swapped the dust mop for the big cleaning cart, replacing the cold water in the bucket with hot, then adding a couple ounces of disinfectant soap.

The patient in the room was completely out of it. She had apparently taken some painkillers and fumbled her drink.

The other patient in the room, all six pounds of her, was sleeping peacefully in her crib by her mother's bed.

While I was cleaning, one of my doctor fairies popped into existence on my shoulder, and I set him carefully on the bed. He balanced himself on the footboard, fished the patient charts from its hook on the end of the bed, and quickly flipping through it, taking notes on his own tiny notebook. Then he hopped up onto the sleeping woman's chest, and used a couple tiny medical instruments to check her vitals.

"Everything OK, doctor?" I whispered as I cleaned, all the while listening closely for approaching footsteps.

The white-clad fairy met my eye and nodded his head, seeming satisfied. Then he hopped to the floor, climbed up and into the baby's crib, checked the infant's vital signs, and made sure the sleep apnea monitor was properly connected. The last thing he did before jumping to the floor and approaching me was to check to be sure the little one's ear wasn't folded under the right side of her head.

As he walk-waddled on tiny legs in my direction, he was chewing on the end of a tiny pencil and examining his notes. He stopped a few feet short of me, and gave me a thumbs up. The baby was clearly in good health as well.

Suddenly, there was a muffled cry of anguish from room 603 next door. It was barely audible, but clearly there was some bad news being given to someone's family. And I knew what family it was. The Andersons.

The doctor heard it as well, put his notebook in his pocket, and looked at me expectantly.

I need four recon team members for escort duty.

At my internal request, four tiny green-uniformed marines popped into existence on my right shoulder, saluting me as I looked at them. A corporal and three privates.

"Get the doctor into the ceiling through the restroom and help him get to a place where he can listen in on the conversation in that room." I whispered, pointing at the dividing room between room 604 and 603.

The corporal nodded, the four marines all saluted me again, and then they hopped off my shoulder to the floor, rolling as they hit, making no noise. They waved for the doctor to follow them, and all five moved into the restroom with haste.

** An hour later, lunchtime. **

I leaned back into the couch, pretending to sleep so nobody would bother me as I consulted internally with my crew.

"What was the news with the Anderson family?"

My senior surgeon, Doctor Bailey, stood, withdrew his notebook, and looked at what he had written there before speaking. "Gail is not growing fast enough. They are almost certain her heart will fail completely before she is large enough to survive the operation."

I shook my head sadly. "Thank you for giving me the abridged version, doctor. Do you agree with their assessment?"

He stared at the notebook, then looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying "Yes, and no. Gail is not large enough to insert tools into her heart through blood vessels, nor survive open-chest surgery." He paused. "If humans perform it."

The rest of the doctors in the room went utterly silent, then stared at me. It was very obvious what they wanted.

I didn't want to burst their bubble, but I had to be the voice of reason. "Do you really think that you can perform a more successful surgery than humans after only a few months of informal learning from the books we've bought and the surgeries you've watched? There's no insult here. You are smart, and you are learning fast, but do you really think you have learned enough?"

There was muttering, some in support of my caution, and others clearly disapproving of it.

Doctor Bailey took several seconds to arrange his thoughts before responding to me. "Solace, there is one thing that we've been able to do better than humans from day one. Sutures. Using our needle and thread, we can make cleaner, smaller sutures than any human." He waved a hand. "We've been experimenting on rabbits, as you know, and despite the sutures being so tiny, they do manage to hold firm. Something about our magical nature, I suppose, since there's no way any cloth as thick as spider silk strands should be capable of suturing large muscle tendons, even on an animal as small as a rabbit."

I shook my head. "But surgery isn't just about sewing people up. Even if you wanted to operate, we simply do not have access to an operating room and all its equipment. You could hide, but Gail couldn't. There is no way we could operate in secrecy, no matter how we tried to do it."

Doctor Bailey nodded, and raised a finger as he started to speak. "Solace-"

I spoke over him. "And what happens if the operation isn't successful? We have a dead infant in an abandoned operating room, with no human doctor taking responsibility for the surgery that had taken place without the parents' consent. The Andersons would go ballistic. The hospital would be sued. We might be discovered."

"Solace. You are missing one possibility." The doctor's voice was patient, almost condescending.

I tilted my head and stared at him, with slightly squinted eyes. My doctors were smart. "What am I missing?"

"We can work with the human doctors. They do the anesthesia. They open the chest cavity, cool her body and stop the heart. Then we do the repair. We work much faster than humans can, and the injury for access to the chest cavity need not be large enough to accommodate adult human fingers and hands."

I stared at him, shocked that he would even suggest that we break secrecy. After my surprise wore off, I took a deep breath, working hard to suppress my anger. "I can't let anyone know what I am. You know this."

Every doctor in the room stared at me, clearly disappointed.

Doctor Bailey met my eyes. "Solace. What exactly do you expect us to do, after we've spent a few years studying? When our knowledge of modern medicine is up-to-date? Will you continue to be a hospital cleaning lady, only allowing us to read charts and check vital signs of unconscious patients?" He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, then relaxed his fists and opened his eyes. "We're healers, Solace. Even the Marines have more purpose than we ever will if you never allow us to follow our calling. They, at least, are supporting us financially and improving public security by targeting gangs."

"They retired me." I whispered back. "Don't you understand? They wanted a warship when they summoned me. You've read about the others, just as I have. You've read about the summoning theories, about how some people think there are limits on the total of all shipgirl displacement. The other shipgirls all fight. I have no guns. If the military finds out I was summoned by accident, they might..."

I could hear my voice raising in pitch. Clenching my teeth, I looked down at the table. Then when I was more in control of myself, I continued. "...might scrap me. So they could summon a cruiser or a couple destroyers."

"Not entirely accurate, on a couple points."

I turned my head to see the speaker. Who had a voice I did not recognize. There was a loud shuffling of chairs and mutterings of confusion from the other doctors.

The speaker was completely out of place. She was a stranger. "A stowaway?" I whispered. "How did you get on board, and where on Earth did you get that ridiculous ancient costume?"

The woman in the ancient British sailor's uniform with tricorn hat reached her right hand up to her hat, bowing gracefully as she doffed her hat toward me. It wasn't a curtsey, it was a bow. "HMS Victory at your service, USS Solace. I'm afraid I do have to keep at least some of my secrets, but, fear not, I am also adept at keeping the secrets of others."

I spent several seconds trying to decide whether or not I should try to have my Marines capture the stranger and put them in the brig until I could figure out what was going on.

"Cat have your tongue? I'll talk then. You are aware that USS Vestal was summoned? She is not a combat ship. She has not been scrapped or unsummoned."

I snapped back. "Exception. Vestal can help fix shipgirl combat damage, get them back in the fight against the Abyssals. I don't have that capability."

The woman in the ancient uniform adjusted her hat and nodded. "That is true." Then she spoke again. "Another example. Were you aware that USS Constitution has also returned? While she is a warship shipgirl, she cannot stand against even the weakest Abyssal for long. What purpose does she serve? Why hasn't she been scrapped? She certainly displaces as much as a destroyer escort, or even some smaller destroyers."

That was a fair question. I took a few seconds to think before answering. "I don't know, but she has been in the news, doing public events, leading summoning ceremonies. She's also got a whole lot of history and I think that if the military brass tried to scrap her, the people would be very, very angry, and it would hurt the war effort. Not like me. Most people probably have no idea what I was or what I did in the war, despite my battle stars."

Victory nodded again. "Again, true in at least some respects, and fairly well-considered. Another example would be me. HMS Victory, flagship of Lord Nelson at Trafalgar. Like Connie, I cannot stand in a modern line of battle. What do you know of me?"

"You and Constitution do similar things. Morale boosting events. Helping summon others." I narrowed my eyes at her. "And apparently stowing away on other shipgirls. Somehow. For as-yet-undefined reasons."

"Ah. Well-said." The other woman grinned at me. "I would like to think that I also help other shipgirls deal with problems that are causing them issues."

"I don't need a shrink, if that's why you're here." I pointed a finger at her. "How did you get access, anyway?"

"That would be telling. There are things that I know that you do not yet. You aren't the only shipgirl asking about my purpose. Though, to be honest, your problems are a bit more mature than most of the others I have to talk to from time to time." The British girl displayed a lopsided grin. "Trying to get Jersey laid is proving far more challenging than I ever imagined."

"Trying to get Jersey-"

"Yup. You heard right." Victory laughed. "You should see your face. Hilarious."

I leaned back in my chair and took a moment to calm my expression. "So what are you here to say, or did you just show up for a friendly game of twenty questions?"

"Shipgirls are like humans in many ways, Solace." She tilted her head, slightly. "Or, should I say Sarah Olivia Lace?"

"Solace. Since you know who I am." I took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell-"

A graceful wave of her right hand interrupted me. "No, I will not. Your secret is safe with me. That is not my place to make decisions for you, though I'm more than willing to figuratively kick you in the keister now and again."

"Like Jersey's secret was safe with you?" I stared at her, trapping her gaze.

"You don't know Jersey. I promise you that her lack of being laid is no secret to anyone who knows her. The woman has zero tact, which is perhaps to be expected, considering her nature." Her eyes twinkled as they held mine. "I was a first rate ship myself once. Subtlety was hard for me to cultivate, and I'm afraid I still don't always do it very well, but I am far better at it than Jersey. Give her a couple hundred years and she'll probably mellow out a bit."

I shook my head and tried to get back to what was important. "So. Why. Are. You. Here."

"Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to talk to someone who can stay on topic?" She smiled gently, in a grandmotherly way.

This time I lifted my right hand and pointed my index finger at her. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know, as I'm not."

"Ouch. Definitely a point there." Victory's face grew very serious. "To help you make the right choice."

Responding quickly, I challenged her. "What is the right choice, and how do you know what it is?"

The gentle smile formed again. "Ah, now that is a mighty fine question indeed. The right choice is the one that lets you sleep at night. I don't know what it is. Only you do."

I put my elbows on the table in front of me, and kneaded the sides of my temple with my palms.

The voice of Victory continued. "If it's any consolation, you were well on the way to the right answer, I think. I just was in the neighborhood and decided to give you a little nudge."

Looking around me, I saw that the room was empty except for myself and Victory. I snapped my eyes back to her. "What did you do-"

Victory interrupted me. "Nothing. You were concentrating on me. Your fairies are a part of you, though they do have some independence, and don't share all they know. You don't need them for this decision, so they left us to speak alone. They, acting as your self-conscience, had already made their point, and made it well."

"Why now?" I waved my hand around in the air. "I mean, I've been in the world for months. Why did you wait for now?"

"Oh, dearie." The voice was calm. "Because this isn't an easy decision. You don't have other shipgirls to talk to, or humans to ask questions. You are trying to forge your own path. You're afraid. You're alone. You don't understand the world and how you fit into it."

As I watched, the image of Victory began to fade. "Wait!" I reached out a hand.

Shaking its head, the fading figure spoke again. "No, there is no need for me to wait. I have your measure now, Solace. You are lost and alone in an unfamiliar world. You are afraid for your existence if you should be discovered. You are bitter that you were set aside all those years ago, sold to be a passenger ship after you were no longer needed after the war." The voice paused. "But, despite that, I can see that you still understand your duty. That hasn't changed. You didn't need a job. Your Marines have made you wealthy stealing the spoils of smugglers and thieves."

I stared at the now ephemeral figure, digesting her words, while unable to form my own.

The figure finally disappeared completely, but Victory wasn't quite done talking. One last sentence drifted to my ears, almost inaudible. "Think about what I just said about Jersey, and what that could lead to, if she were human. Then take my word. She's human enough."

The implications were clear. I sat in my chair at the head of the long, empty table for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. No matter what way I approached it, I could only come to one conclusion. I summoned all my officers, medical and otherwise in order to lay plans.


** One hour later **


I knocked on the door in front of me, my stomach tied in knots. From inside the door, there was the sound of a voice. "Enter."

Turning the knob, I opened the door about half-way and made myself visible. "Director Stevens, may I have a moment of your time? It is important."

The moderately overweight woman who had once been a redhead, but had stopped fighting the grey years ago looked up at me. The irritation on her face was clear. She squinted towards me, clearly reading my nametag. "Lace, is this something that you should be addressing through building services? You aren't technically even an employee of the hospital."

"No, ma'am. This has nothing to do with my current job duties."

The older woman's eyes narrowed, and she stared at me with searching eyes. "Then you present me either with a mystery that I am almost certainly not going to enjoy, or with a reason to ask building services to provide me with a different custodian. Come in, sit down, and let us see which it is."

I closed the door behind me as I entered, then approached the chair the director had indicated, seating myself rigidly, trying my best to give the impression of seriousness.

"Lace, you have been with us for a couple months, and are one of the only custodians we have ever employed that I have never needed to complain about. The fact that I didn't know your name is a good thing. Because of that, I'm going to give you one more chance to walk out this door if what you are about to talk to me about has nothing to do with medical matters. Even personal issues with other hospital employees are to first be addressed to your supervisor. There is a chain of command for a reason. I and my team are extremely busy dealing with matters of life and death. Do you still want to speak to me?"

I dry-swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I do."

The director pushed her high-backed office chair away from her desk, and leaned back into the comfortable leather. "So, what do you wish to discuss, Lace?"

As planned, I lifted my palm in front of me, palm up, and summoned Doctor Bailey.

My conversation partner jumped in her chair, slightly. I saw her arm move towards the underside of her desk, but neither I nor Doctor Bailey moved. The director's hand slowly moved back to her lap, and her eyes fixated on the tiny white clad figure in my hand.

"Director Stevens, my name is not Sarah Olivia Lace. I am USS Solace, hospital ship 5."

The woman's eyes grew even larger.

I caught and held her eyes with my own. "Please, I beg of you not to make my existence as a shipgirl known to others. I was apparently summoned by accident, and I am not entirely certain what the Navy would do to me if they found out I existed."

The director blinked, then nodded. "I can keep a secret, as long as it is not a danger to do so." Then she removed her glasses and used a tissue to clean them, obviously stalling for time and trying to figure out what she wanted to say. After she put her glasses back on, she spoke. "Well, this is certainly not within the realm of what I expected."

Smiling back at her, I noticed that Doctor Baily, still standing on my palm, was also nodding his oversized head. I moved my hand to the edge of the director's desk, and he stepped onto the wooden surface before I spoke again. "I'm sorry to make your day more, err, interesting, but I hope that by the end of our conversation we'll be solving problems rather than finding new ones."

The director leaned forward in her chair and reached out a finger towards Doctor Bailey, looking at me. "May I?"

"Ask him. He's part of me but he's also his own man, to some extent." I looked down at the fairy in question, who was facing away from me, looking up at the woman leaning forward with the outstretched finger.

In a clear gesture, Doctor Bailey bowed in a manner that really shouldn't have been possible based on the mass of his head being at least as large as the rest of his tiny body. But he did it anyway, and when the bow was complete, he extended his right hand in a clear offer to shake.

Director Stevens stared for about two seconds, then tentatively reached forward with her index finger and touched his outstretched right hand. His arm pumped up and down, and her finger followed the motion.

As they shook hand and finger, Doctor Bailey spoke. "Hey. Heyheyhey. Hey. Heyhey. Heyheyheyhey. Heyhey."

After he had spoken, the director stared at the Doctor, then at me, clearly confused.

I needed to clear up the confusion. "Humans can't understand fairies. I'll translate. He said 'Hello and well-met, Director Stevens, I am Doctor Carrol Bailey, senior surgeon of the USS Solace.'"

"Fascinating." The director returned her attention to Doctor Bailey. "Good day to you as well, sir. I suspect you know more about me than I do of you." Her eyes flickered back up to me then down to the fairy. "Both of you. You have me at a disadvantage. But as fascinating as this is, I have a neonatal ward to manage, and my time is extremely valuable."

I considered my rehearsed words, then discarded them. "We want to help."

The director froze for a moment, gave me a sharp look, and picked a pen up off her desk. She started tapping it rapidly on her leg. "Help how?"

Doctor Bailey turned to look up at me, clearly irritated, met my eye, then turned back to look at the director. He knew what I was supposed to be saying, but he didn't do anything other than make sure I knew that he wasn't pleased with me going off-script.

"I have sixty doctors and two hundred forty nurses and orderlies on board who have medical experience. For the last couple months they have been evaluating their skills against modern medical knowledge while I worked here. They have offered absolutely no care during my stay, only watching and learning. They have discovered that in most ways, they are sorely lacking, but not in everything."

"Three hundred medical staff with World War 2 levels of medical knowledge." Her gaze shifted from me to the fairy doctor on her desk. "Are you civilian trained, or military trained?"

This was a question we knew would come up. "I'll answer for him. The doctors are all civilian trained. Most of the orderlies and nurses are military trained."

Doctor Bailey said "Hey!" and gave a thumbs up while nodding.

The director nodded. "Still, it will take years for you to brush up on your skills. But you know that. Why come to me now? No offense, but the medical needs of newborns are extremely different from the medical needs of battle-injured men."

"I did mention, director, that there were things that my doctors are confident that they are better at then human doctors."

The pen stopped bouncing on her leg, then resumed. "Go on. Explain."

"Fine dexterity work. Sutures. Working around veins and arteries. My doctor fairies see capillaries as being the size of major blood vessels."

"You can only make sutures so small before the tissue tears or the suturing material breaks."

Doctor Baily shook his head, then looked up at me, slight worry apparent in his expression. I smiled down at him. "I know doctor, I'll say it correctly, I promise."

"My doctors have absolutely not performed any surgery on humans, other than emergency surgery on the victims of the Abyssal attack on the pier where I was summoned. That said, they have been practicing - on rabbits I've been buying from pet stores."

The Director blinked, then nodded and leaned back in her chair again. "More details. Quickly, please."

"Even though their sutures are incredibly fine by human standards, roughly as fine as spider thread, they are resilient. Strong enough to reattach the leg tendons of rabbits and allow the animals to use them as soon as they recover consciousness. In addition, organ, artery, and heart muscle tissues that fairy doctors suture do not tear open over time. We have many post-surgical living rabbits that we are monitoring for problems, and many more frozen rabbit cadavers that can also be reviewed."

Once again, the director leaned forward. "Suturing and fine manual dexterity work are not the most important part of surgical medicine. Doctors have to understand what they see. No two patients are the same." She stopped momentarily, then continued. "You might start a surgery and discover something completely unexpected, which would then lead to an immediate need for a high degree of medical education to make a decision that might be a life-or-death choice for the patient. Your doctors don't have that degree of education. Not in the modern world."

I agreed. "We do not dispute that. None of my doctors believe they are sufficiently competent to handle any complex surgery." I paused intentionally. "Without supervision."

The director clearly understood my point immediately. "Without supervision, you say? So, what you are proposing is that your fairy doctors would only do fine manual surgical procedures at the direction of other, better trained human doctors?"

"Yes, Director, at least for several years, or until my fairy doctors can update their medical knowledge to current standards. Even then, there are times that larger bodies and greater reach can be useful, so we do not imagine any time at which fairy doctors would not be working with humans."

"You said that there were humans that your doctors treated after an Abyssal attack on a pier? Was that the attack in Newport News a couple months ago?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"And you have living and frozen animal studies of the work of your fairy doctors?"

I nodded again. "Yes, Director."

She leaned forward and looked at Doctor Bailey, pointing her pen at him unthreateningly. "And you and your fellow doctors are willing to take direction, and do as you are told?"

As I started to answer, Director Stevens shushed me. "No. I want his response."

"Understood, ma'am." I remained silent after that comment, so Doctor Bailey could provide an answer.

She turned her eyes back to Doctor Bailey. "Nod for yes, or shake your head for no."

Doctor Bailey nodded, calmly meeting the director's eyes.

"I'm going to have to go to the hospital director with this. I will not authorize it on my own. We will need to find some of the victims of that attack and review their medical records. If they were treated at the beach for significant wounds, someone should have noted the work in the records. We will also want to see the rabbits, both frozen and live. I will have them dissected by qualified surgeons to verify the skill of your fairy doctors. Before we let them assist with any human surgery, we will watch your doctors perform surgical procedures on living rabbits. All of these things will take time."

"Gail Anderson does not have much time, director." I whispered.

The director stared at me, comprehension clear in her eyes. "I see. Her condition is worsening, it is true. However, that does not mean we can abdicate our responsibilities to perform medicine ethically." She pointed at Doctor Bailey with her pen again. "Your doctor fairies may well be God's gift to fine dexterity surgical procedures, but I'm not going to allow them to touch a patient until we can review their work and see them doing live procedures on living animals."

I sighed loudly, then apologized. "I'm sorry to-"

The director waved her hand, dismissing my apology. "No need for that." She pointed with her pen at Doctor Bailey. "It's clear that even if he is a doctor, you are not, but you clearly have decision-making powers. You wanted me to keep this quiet. The quieter I keep it, the longer it will take for me to make it happen. The more people I can bring in, the faster we can evaluate the skills of your fairies."

Dry-washing my hands, I considered my only viable option before I said what needed to be said. "Do what you have to, but please try to only bring in people who can keep secrets."

"Lace, if this works, and your doctors and their skills are anything close to what you have advertised, your secret won't last long. Any complex procedure that would benefit strongly from what your doctors are offering will have at least six individuals in the operating room, at least four of them non-doctors. The hospital directors and most of the doctors will keep your secrets, but the nurses and orderlies tend to gossip. Especially about strange things."

There was the sound of squealing metal, and I suddenly realized I'd clenched my fists while they were gripping the tubular metal arms of the chair.

The director jumped slightly in her chair, then her eyes met mine. After a moment, she spoke slowly, gently. "This is clearly stressful for you. I'll keep your secret and let you go on your way if you like, and never mention this to anyone else. But if you choose for me to keep your secret, I'll have to ask you to leave the employ of this hospital. Knowing what you are, and what your doctors might be able to do, but not being able to ask you for that help would distract me to no end. Especially when patients that you and yours might have helped do not survive."

I looked at the damage I'd done to the chair arms. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's a chair. I can get another." She smiled. "Or keep it as something to show my grandchildren after your secret finally comes out."

The director leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers below her chin. "Now, make your decision, Lace. Do I keep your secret, and you leave the hospital? Do I slow-walk this with as much secrecy as I can, and hope that Gail lives long enough for your doctors to help us help her? Or do I walk upstairs in ten minutes and speak to the hospital director and work with her to put some resources into making this happen as quickly as we can? We'll try to keep your secret, but no matter what we do, I guarantee it will be a rumor in a month, on the outside, and public knowledge in six months or less."

Looking down at the desk, I saw that Doctor Bailey had turned away from the director and was staring at me, very seriously. I sighed and reached forward, lightly tapping him on the head with a fingertip. "You knew this was going to happen like this, didn't you? I didn't have a chance."

Then I shifted my attention to Director Stevens. "Damn the torpedos. Full speed ahead. I'd appreciate as much secrecy as you can manage, but I can't make any other choice."

Director Stevens smiled. "Good. I hope that what you are offering lives up to expectations, but we'll know for sure within a few days. Gail should survive at least a few days, hopefully long enough to allow us to try to save her. Ethically."

As I provided the director with my home address and phone number, I lifted Doctor Bailey to my shoulder. He sat there watching the two of us talk, and I could hear him whistling very faintly to himself, clearly in high spirits.

 

[Old Iron]

* * * * *

Mutsu's expression was all but glowing as she walked the halls of Sasebo Naval Base's command center.

It had been some days since that absolutely wonderful evening and she hadn't been able to stop smiling. Whether she was reading reports of new enemy activity, running through gunnery drills, or simply enjoying breakfast, her joy simply refused to be contained. Not that she wanted to in the first place. But decorum was a little harder to maintain when you practically had hearts floating over your head.

But she had obtained it.

Obtained it and held onto it with all the force she could muster.

The joy and happiness as someone who had their love returned.

It irritated Yamashiro to no end, and Ashigara if the rumor mill was to be believed, but she didn't care one whit. John loved her. John really loved her. And he'd gone to great lengths to make sure she understood that. On every level possible.

A naughty expression covered her features as she recalled the events which had led to the ultimate demise of the coffee table. They'd both gotten quite a good laugh when it had given way. Fortunately John's bed had fared far better. The fate of the sheets had been of little concern.

She hummed a happy tune as she rounded the corner, nearly bursting into a fit of giggles in the process. It was becoming far too difficult to contain herself.

"It's been a few days, but you look happy as ever."

Mutsu spun about to see the smiling form of Jintsuu approaching from behind. There was a distinct lack of brightly colored traffic cone-like clothing on the light cruiser, instead replaced by a professional looking NWU. She would have once wondered how Jintsuu could make something so basic and generic look like it had been tailored for the brass, but she learned quite quickly that Sendai-class cruisers were infinitely more than they seemed.

"Is it that obvious~?" She couldn't help but allow her well-known teasing lilt take over her voice.

"I'd have to be blind to not notice it." Jintsuu sidled up next to Mutsu and leaned against the taller warship before they began walking again, a look of amusement on her features. "And the Admiral isn't doing much better than you are at hiding it. But I suppose the betting pools and leering isn't helping."

Ting.

"My, but didn't you and Hiei make out like bandits?" questioned Mutsu while giving her friend a sidelong glance. She was quite well aware of the multitude of bets surrounding her love life. And John's. Especially John's. If there was one thing you could count on where a flag officer's personal life was concerned, it was bets about who he or she was breaking beds with.

"Maybe?" Jintsuu pointedly looked away from Mutsu, making it plainly obvious to the battleship that the won sum was not insubstantial.

"You little fiend." She poked Jintsuu's cheek playfully. "You two had plenty of insider information. Think of the poor sailors' pockets you emptied."

"I did." Jintsuu protested weakly and without any hint of remorse. "...I thought of how I could make better use of those funds than they could."

"Oh, Jintsuu... You stray further along the path to the dark side with every passing moment."

There was an ominous pause.

"You don't know the power of the Dark Side."

The two managed to maintain their composure for a rather impressive minute before finally giving up and laughing like fools.

"But you do look quite happy. I'm really happy for you. Both of you." Jintsuu wiped a tear from the corner of her eye when she regained control of herself.

"Thank you." Mutsu felt her cheeks color as she smiled.

Clang.

"Alright. I know I heard something that time."

"Heard what?" Mutsu gave Jintsuu a quizzical look. What was she talking about? The only sounds she could hear were the ambient noise of the base and rather loud conversations from behind closed doors. Well, that and their own footsteps. "I don't hear anything out of the ordinary."

Clank!

"Ji-wha-?"

"Hush!"

Mutsu could only stare in bewilderment as Jintsuu held her fast and pressed an ear to her uniform covered tummy. Had she lost her mind?

"Off with that blouse!"

"Wh! What are you talking about!? We-" She had her protests cut off by a sharp look from the cruiser. The outburst was startling enough, but the expression was nearly heart-stopping.

"Here or in the washroom. I don't care which, but that shirt is in the wa-"

Clonk. Bzzzzzt!

"-And If you didn't hear that, then I will have you signed up for a full checkup."

Mutsu would admit she'd heard something that time. What exactly? She wasn't quite sure. But it was definitely there. Very, very faint however. Almost enough to write it off as background noise.

"Alright. Alright. We'll go to the ladies' room and check it out."

She didn't have much of a chance to say anything else as Jintsuu grasped her hand and began dragging her off. This wasn't really necessary. She could get to the washroom herself. But Jintsuu seemed really worked up about whatever this was. Sure, she was curious herself now. But not to the point of panicking.

And bes-

"How did we get here so fast?"

Unless she'd somehow had a serious malfunction of every piece of detection equipment she had, she had been in the hallway just a moment ago. And the nearest washroom was most definitely not a moment away. But her green eye were not deceiving her. This was definitely their destination...

"That is of little importance right now." Jintsuu was suddenly making quick work of Mutsu's uniform, undoing buttons with a precision and speed that was almost mind-boggling.

There was little doubt in Mutsu's mind that the cruiser was shaken on some level and wanted that shirt gone. But not so much as to simply tear it away. For that, she was thankful. But Jintsuu's actions did worry her more and more with each passing second. And now those sounds were getting louder. Louder and more frequent.

Jintsuu leaned over and placed her hear against the revealed tummy of the battleship with a determined look upon her features. Her eyes closed and her entire presence became one of calm focus. Her hands were slowly placed upon Mutsu's sides.

It took a lot of effort for Mutsu to not giggle or even keep a straight face whenever Jintsuu's soft brown hair would tickle her exposed skin. It was even worse when her hands would twitch just slightly. Oh, she'd definitely be exacting some sort of retaliation upon her friend for this when all was said and done. But for now, all she could do was be silent and bite the knuckles of her hand to keep from laughing.

She did not have to wait long for Jintsuu to remove herself.

"Well?"

Jintsuu swallowed visibly and there was a glint in her eyes that made the hair on Mutsu's neck stand up. It was as if every post was suddenly on high alert. An anxiety not dissimilar to the anticipation of combat, but decidedly lacking in the lethal overtones. She felt so charged that she was half tempted to see if she could zap someone with her hairband antennae

Mutsu's eyes widened when Jintsuu reached into her right breast pocket and withdrew a small box.

"Should you be carrying that around on duty?" Mutsu blurted out without really thinking. She shook her head. Wait. Hang on. "No, that's not it. Why do you even have that in the first place?"

"For situations like these. Hiei's been carrying one around just in case it was her that ran into you first and noticed something unusual." Jintsuu's expression softened and a small smile returned to her face. "Now that you and Admiral Richardson have finally been honest with yourselves, we figure it's only a matter of time."

"Well, that's true..." Mutsu frowned and folded her arms. "And so far aw we know, there's never been a pregnant shipgirl. So who knows how it'll work. We don't even know how some of our most basic functions work."

Jintsuu giggled.

"You're thinking too hard now. Battleship Washington tried one of these stateside and it showed a boat. She's not expecting, so it might still suffice for us?" She moved around and began nudging Mutsu towards one of the stalls. "Besides, don't you want to know? Know if you and John laid one down?"

Mutsu's face colored again and she placed her hands to her cheeks.

The gravity of it had finally hit her.

Whether due to a lack of experience, a lack of comprehension, or simply being too high on happiness to really thing about it, she now realized that critical piece of information.

There was a very strong likelihood that she was going to be a mother. A mother to a child she had conceived with the one she loved with all her heart. A child she would love, care for, and raise with ever fiber of her being. Through hardship and joy. A child who would be a brother or sister to Jane and perhaps even an older sibling to others who might come after.

This would be her's and John's child.

"Mutsu?"

"M-My, oh my... I..." The now known noise had reached a fever pitch and Mutsu had begun to draw lines. She gingerly touched her exposed tummy. "Is, do you really think?"

"I do." Jintsuu gave her friend another light shove. "Now get in there and see."

Mutsu nodded and entered the stall she'd been guided towards.

She looked at the box in hand and withdrew the contents.

Shouldn't these things be heavier? Something along the lines of carrying the weight of the future? This one little device could change her life in such an astounding way. But maybe she was too happy about the possibilities of the future. Perhaps it was that which was driving off any negative thoughts.

She had no idea how to be a mother. Well, no more than what she'd learned by taking care of Jane. But this was starting from square one. The very beginning. With so many unknowns between now and what she did know. And that did not even begin to scratch the surface of what the child of a shipgirl like herself would be like.

So far as she knew, this was a beginning unlike any other in history.

She took a deep breath.

"Battleship Mutsu. All ahead flank."

The instructions were simple enough. Generic and illustrated so there would be no possible means of screwing it up. Well, short of grievous failure to follow said instructions. Or failure of the device.

But the deed was done and all she had to do was wait.

As she exited the stall with the test, Jintsuu stood there like an ever observant sentinel. She seemed to relax a bit when she offered a smile. No words seemed to come forth and her companion did not seem all that inclined to converse either.

So while they waited, she washed up and made herself presentable again. It wouldn't do to keep walking around like this.

Even so, she took her time.

She could dwell more on the what-ifs and maybes after she had an answer.

But it was taking so long. Maybe it was broken? She was confident she'd followed the direction properly. Oooh, it ought to hurry up!

A change caught her eye as she paced.

Mutsu held the test up to eye level and took a good, long look at what it displayed.

"What does it say?" There was a not insignificant amount of impatience in Jintsuu's voice. Enough to make professionalism impossible. The woman was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"There's a crane."

"A... crane?"

"And the number two."

Indeed there was a crane and said numeral displayed quite plainly on the test in a rather old-fashioned typeface.

A series of taps, metal on metal, sounded out. They were barely discernible, but definitely there. Certainly enough to get the attention of both women. Especially given they were originating from Mutsu's belly.

- Construction begun two ships STOP
- Est delivery nine months STOP

Mutsu's jaw dropped as the sounds faded into the background of her mind.

"T-T-Twins?"

"Oh, oh my. Oh my. My, my!"

Mutsu threw her arms around a now cheering Jintsuu and spun her around joyously, a smile bright as the sun adorning her face as she laughed.

"Aha! Hahaha! I'm going to be a mother!"

* * * * *

 

[7734]

Spoiler: Original Version Link

Cameron Accidentally An Atago - Pastebin.com

Sighing, Cameron wiped his brow off. He'd worked a double shift today, and the new line of quirt guns had come out with atache Nerf guns. It had been a long day, and he wouldn't even get to see 'laska soon. Her schedule right now was a seven-day rotation on the Panama Canal, with three days off in base after, and she'd shipped out yesterday. Shaking his head, he just got out of the store and poured himself into his old Ford Focus. Feeling his phone buzz twice, he picked up when he recognized Alaska's number.

"Hey!" Cameron said, perking up as he leaned back and started up the car. As hot AC blasted him, he smiled at the thought of his girlfriend. "How's it going?"

"Doing pretty good, Cameron." Alaska replied, in that same slightly-tired-mostly-perky tone she always had when she was on an Expedition. "Listen, uh... Cameron, I kinda have to ask you a favor."

"Oh? What sort of thing?" Cameron asked, rolling his shoulders as the air got colder. Putting on the little Bluetooth headset he'd gotten after he'd needed to hide in his car to get a private conversation in, he smiled. "I've still got those Lego's on hold for you, by the way."

"Thanks!" Alaska said, perking up for a moment. "The favor is... ah, well, erm... I, uh..." she said, trailing off into murmuring. "It... kinda has to do with Atago..."

"Atago?" Cameron asked, settling his phone in by the parking brake and taking off towards the scenic route home. This was gonna be a long one, he felt.

"Sometimes... well, sometimes she gets nightmares. Sometimes they're not so bad, just memories from back then or about the typhoons."

Alaska breathed in and out, bracing herself to continue. "Sometimes they're worse. Sometimes she's at Ten-Go. Sometimes she's at the breakers. Once, she was at Bikini Atoll. I don't know how... I don't know why. But last night, she wasn't doing so good, and I'm worried. Stuff like this... it gets worse before it gets better."

Cameron hissed quietly. He knew Alaska, and she was someone who hated to see her friends in pain. She wasn't much use in the major theaters, and here she was part of a pintsize squadron. She'd do anything she could to help her friends, and Atago was her first.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, serious.

"Just... go to the base, ok?" Alaska said, sounding more tired than normal. "She's on an oil platform patrol today I think. She'll need a friend. Maybe watch a movie, alright? Please?"

Trying not to chuckle, Cameron threw on a turn signal so he could head for the base. "Anything you ask, love. See you soon, okay?"

"Ok, Cameron. Bye..."

---

After calling his mother and letting her know he had to head into the base as a favor to Alaska, Cameron pulled up to the normal parking lot and parked in his normal spot in the front row. Technically it was the NBECruRon 2 CMDR parking space, but for a start there wasn't one and Atago had gotten a shifty look in her eyes the one time someone started talking about it seriously. Besides, the MPs never ticketed him for it, so someone had probably sent a memo on it.

Making his way through the public areas, Cameron pulled out his base ID when he had to get passed the desk at the Shipgirl Dorms. Tehnicaly he was an "NBE Moral Specialist" for his contractor card, but as one very tired secretary explained it was the little runaround that let him charge food expenses to the base when he took 'laska out on a date every other week. As he entered, he moved smartly to Atago's room, the rising moon illuminatng the fact day had passed.

Moments after a polite knock on the door, Atago came out in a too-large t-shirt and bike shorts. As she yawned, Cameron forced his eyes up to meat hers.

"Hey, Cameron." she said, smiling and stepping out of the way to let him in. "You want to come in?"

"Sure." Cameron said, smiling. "Listen, I got some new Lego sets for you and Alaska, okay?"

As the two moved in and shut the door, Cameron breathed in and out, thinking of Alaska in her swimsuit. He was doing her a favor was all. One small favor.

"Cameron? I'm sorry to ask... but can I ask you of one small favor?" Atago asked nervously, blushing slightly. "It has to do with Alaska."

"Yes?"

Reaching out, Cameron found himself incased in Atago, the warmth of her grasp trying and failing to hide the miniscule shakes that racked her frame.
"I need... I need someone to hang on to for a little while. I'm sorry." she said, gulping as she pulled him down to her bed. "I've... I can't sleep without someone here, or I'm there again, and no matter where I go, they're there, and the torpedoes come, and I can't hide, and then I get hit, and, and-"
As Cameron's arms came around her, Atago stopped.

"Just let me explain it to Alaska." Atago murmured, hands clawing at Cameron's back. "That's all I need."

As Cameron nodded, he gasped out at her. "Can I at least get my shirt off?"

Atago nodded, letting go of his chest for a moment while he slid the uniform shirt off. Moments later, his slacks followed, leaving him in a pair of briefs while Atago reclaimed her. The last words she heard before drifting off into a restless sleep were simple.

"I'm here."

---

It was a week later, and Alaska was tired. There must have been something out there, just beyond the radar horizon sending in those damnable PT boats, and intermittent flights of Griefs attacked her convoy every other day. Moving towards her room, she opened the door and looked inside carefully. On her bed sat Atago, carefully setting up a very small Lego set. On Atago's lap sat Cameron, blinking carefully as he held the work table steady.

"mrgphble" went Alaska to the bathroom to shower. About a half-hour later, she came out in a fluffy robe, plopped down on her bed, and mumbled at the two. Frowning for a moment, Cameron manuvered his Legos off his lap, moving over to Alaska.

"'laska?" he asked, before getting grabbed and pulled in. Shortly later, a fluffy fleece was thrown around, and more mumbles emmited from Alaska.

"Atago? She... I think she wants you to come over." Cameron said. The nervous heavy cruiser complied, before getting grabbed and pulled in. Moments of flurried adjusting later, and Alaska sighed as she curled Cameron up beside her, the poor boy pressed against his girlfiends keel from stem to stern. Above them, Atago served as pillow and blanket, her head trailing down by Alaska's and her chest serving to rest the Large Cruiser while her warm tummy rested Cameron's.

"Nap." Alaska pronounced solemnly, before dozing off. As Cameron and Atago's eyes drooped lower, both of them blinked slowly, the soporific effect of the centerpiece in the nest luring them towards sleep.

For the first time in seven nights, the trio all slept soundly.