Author's Note: For Alpha, who went deliciously off the deep end when chasing the line I cast out.
The Card Game
"I'm sorry, your excellency, but my helmsman is not for sale."
The smirk Janeway keeps off her face still colors every syllable of her jab, and Riker grits his teeth, wondering how in the hell Kathryn got her claws into a story that he managed to keep out of the official logs.
Okay. So he went down to one little trade negotiation and found himself, by no fault of his own, accidentally married to a local princess.
That kind of thing happens to all Captains at least once. Right?
Shuffling his three cards for show, he wonders which of the Titan's crew let slip the gaffe that caused their Captain to be persona non grata'ed from his own (shared) quarters, then forced him to sleep in the hydroponics bay for the span of an entire week.
To regain his focus, he locks eyes with the third person in the card game, glacial blues meeting glacial blues; casually addresses the pilot he just attempted to secure as forfeit in the (likely) event of Janeway's loss.
"Should I even ask what your dear Captain had to do keep those pips of hers from being replaced with an Admiral's bar? I would venture she had to dig up more on High Command than just some brief. . . diplomatic misunderstanding . . . to keep that svelte little ship of yours out of mothballs."
For his part, Tom Paris doesn't even smile. Hasn't once the entire the card game, now that Will thinks about it.
"You don't think Captain Janeway moved HQ with the mere persuasiveness of her charm?" the the blond man drawls, eliciting from Janeway a lopsided grin and from Will himself a guffaw.
"Maybe," Riker allows. "But all dear Katie's charm can't change the fact that I've accrued more points than her. And now," he pauses, nodding with an air of victory to the lone card left in Janeway's hand, "the game is about to draw to a close. And while I have generously put into the pot an entire case of the very finest Romulan ale, and you, Lieutenant, have provided a stash of rare Delavian chocolate, the celebrated hero of the Delta Quadrant has offered. . . nothing, as of yet."
Despite Will's absurdly grandiose delivery, Janeway purses her lips in concentration.
She really does need to come up with some kind of collateral, even if she has absolutely no intention of losing anything to William Riker. Of all people.
"Let's see," she muses, casting her eyes out of Riker's viewport, to where Voyager and Deep Space 2 both remain visible.
"What about those bottles of Chateau Picard the Admiral sent for your birthday?" Paris chimes.
Janeway immediately shoots him daggers, which the Lieutenant fails to even acknowledge. Riker hums with pleasure, enjoying this little turn of events.
He'd thus far assumed that Paris was Janeway's wingman (so to speak). And it's true the pilot hasn't done anything to sink Janeway in the game.
But the Lieutenant hasn't thrown his Captain any bones either. And now this. . .
"Alright," Janeway growls. "If only because I'll be winning the whole pot anyway."
"You sure?" Will prods. "My offer to take Mister Paris off your hands still stands. . . I really do need to fill my Chief Conn slot."
"Tempting," Janeway grumbles. "But he and my Chief Engineer are a package deal."
"Lucky you," Will grins at Paris, and takes a swig out of his beer. But the pilot just ignores the entire exchange, straightens the four remaining cards in his hands.
"Shall we play?" he rather amicably asks of the two Captains, and both ranking officers nod.
"Too bad for you, Will," Janeway smiles,"that I've got such a keen memory for cards. Because- and it's with the deepest respect for your royal highness that I say this- I'm afraid I'm going to have to take those three jacks you're holding off your hands."
"Afraid I can't help you, Katie," Will responds. Then punctuates the statement with a smile.
"What?" Janeway demands.
"I've no Jacks to my name," Riker elaborates, feeling his own grin turn completely feral. "Go fish."
"That can't be right!" Janeway maintains.
"Captain, he told you to go fish," Paris pronounces coolly, "and since we've exhausted the 'draw' pile, that means your turn has ended."
Will next relieves Paris of the lone nine needed to complete his final book, further beating Janeway's tally and going out of cards himself.
And then, basking in the promise of Chateau Picard (it's been a while, after all), Will watches with interest as the third player fixes Janeway with mirth-filled eyes, proudly displaying the three jacks he managed to weasel away, thus securing her elimination.
"Captain," Paris begins, a toothy grin breaking out across his face, "would you be so kind as to hand me that jack of hearts you're holding?"
When Janeway flings her last card in Paris' lap, it's with a four-letter verb starting with 'f', but sharing no other letters with 'fish.'