Chapter 23: A Proper Lady!

Other than the very occasional clarifying question, Washington hadn't said a word since Williams started the impromptu briefing. And even then, it was a short three-or-four word question before she went back to attentive listening and scribbling on the notebook she'd produced from… somewhere.

Williams knew this should relax him. After working with destroyers who got distracted if there weren't plenty of pictures in his slide decks, and a battleship who insisted on eating her brunch at briefings, a proper military-precise briefing should have been soothing.

But it wasn't. It was driving him up the wall. The other shoe was going to fall, he just knew it. And if it waited this long, it must be very very big.

But he was an Admiral of the United States Navy. If he feared inevitable disaster, he wouldn't have taken the job. Dauntless he sailed, plowing though the abbreviated history of the Abyssal war thus far.

"Which brings us up to now," he concluded, folding his hands behind his back as he waited for the battleship's pen to stop moving. "Any questions?"

"No, sir," said Wash in that calm, demure, but somehow thunderous voice. She looked up at him with a hit of a smile, sliding her pen into her notebook's spiral binding for safekeeping.

Williams caught himself mid gasp, passing it off as a mere intake of breath as his eyebrows creeped up. "Wash… I just told you that animate, demonic ghost of warships long past have risen from the abyss, and our only hope is the spirits of our own warships."

Wash nodded, glancing at her notes for a second. "Aye, sir. I'd… say that sums it up."

"And you have no questions?"

"Sir," Wash folded her hands, her cheeks going a slightly redder shade of marble. "When I was born, battleships were queens of the sea," she explained, clearly struggling to avoid patronizing her Admiral, "by the time I was decommissioned, not only had aircraft taken over the throne, but they didn't even require the help of a propeller to hold it."

Williams shrugged. In hindsight, that made a decent amount of sense. A worrying amount, even. "Times have changed," he said, "I think it's time for the battleships to regain their throne."

Wash stood, her hand snapping up in a crisp salute, her russet brown hair glistening in the florescent light like she was actually wearing a crown. "It would be my honor, Admiral."

"Good to hear it, Wash," said Williams, snapping off a salute in return, swallowing the feeling in the back of his mind telling him that he should have saluted her. "As per procedure, you are to be commissioned to the brevet rank of Lieutenant Commander, full rank to be bestowed following approval from Congress."

"Thank you, sir," said Wash, her cheeks positively glowing as she smiled at her Admiral. "I won't let you down."

"Outstanding," said Williams, sitting back in his chair and turning to the pile of paperwork he'd been neglecting. "Yeoman Gale will see to any further requirements you have, dismissed."

Wash clicked her heels together, puffing out her… rather sizable chest and flashing a smile. Then she turned, her hair billowing with the suddenness of the movement. "Tell me, Yeoman, do they still have mess halls in the future?"

"Uh, Aye, ma'am," said Gale, her face sagging into an expression of utter defeat. "Right this way."

—|—|—

Gale stared at Wash in disbelief, her jaw only barely holding on to the rest of her face as the battleship treated herself to her twenty-seventh plate—Chicken pot pie with green beans.

And for once, it wasn't the sheer quantity of food the shapely woman was somehow managing to fit into her slender waist. She'd seen Jersey wolf down ten thousand calories in one sitting—and that's when she hadn't been sailing around.

No, what surprised her was how damn civil Wash was being. The battleship'd made sure to thank every sailor manning the serving lines, and even posed for a selfie with one—though Gale noticed she looked very confused the entire time. And even when she got to the table, she had her napkin carefully folded against leg and dabbed at her mouth every few minutes.

"Is something the matter?" asked Wash, setting her fork down with a tiny tink of metal against plastic.

"Hmm?" Gale shook herself out of her stupor, "Oh, uh… no ma'am."

"Are you sure?" asked Wash, leaning across the table. "You look like your mind's a thousand miles away."

Gale bit her lip. It was so weird talking to Wash… Jersey might outrank her, but she treated her like an equal. Wash… Wash made her regret not wearing her dress whites today. "It's just… you eat like such a lady."

Wash raised one of her slender eyebrows. "And?"

"I'm just…" Gale shrugged, "I'm used to the Taffies, who just sort of…" Gale flailed her hands around, "wolf down whatever you out in front of them. That. Them, and Jersey, who does the same, but more so."

Wash smirked, her face momentarily echoing the same nefarious giggle that so often adorned her fellow-battleship's—cousin's?—face. "Hmm… of course she does."

"You have to let me bring a camera when you two meet," blurted out Gale.

"Yeoman…" Wash smiled, waving the tip of her polished knife at the sailor, "I would be worried if you didn't."

—|—|—

Kongou smiled as the fresh sea breeze washed though her airy miko outfit, ruffling her skirt and blowing salt though her long brown hair. It was a positively glorious day to be at sea, the crashing waves of the North Pacific had calmed, and there wasn't a cloud in the crisp blue sky.

The Abyssals couldn't take that joy from her, Kongou wouldn't let them. This was her sea, they were merely unwelcome guests.

The British-built fast battleship took a deep breath, holding the salty air in her lungs. For just a second, she almost forgot there was a war on. The rhythmic crash of surf against her bow, the steady hum of her turbines… she felt at peace.

"Alright fucktards," barked Jersey, shattering the moment's peace Kongou had found. "UNREP time!"

The American scrunched up her bloodied face, glancing around for her little pack of hyperactive little—or not so little, given their bustlines. Americans certainly had their own style—destroyers.

If Jersey said anything after that, it was lost in the the cheers of Johnston, Hoel, Heermann, and Sammy as all four of them scrambled to be first in line for their snacks. Fubuki and Yuudachi looked at each other, shrugged, then belatedly fell in line behind them.

"Kongou-San?" Akatsuki tugged at the end of Kongou's sleeve, her enormous eyes staring up at the battleship with a timid smile on her face.

"Yes, Akatsuki?" said Kongou, beaming at the little destroyer. It wasn't often she got to talk to the third-generation Special-type destroyers. At least not without their minder nearby.

But, with such a large convoy to guard, Tenryuu had had to separate her children to cover the gaps while the Americans refueled.

"Um," Akatsuki bit her lip, watching as Jersey handed out sandwiches—peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off, if Kongou wasn't mistaken—and juice boxes to her clutch of destroyers. "What's 'un-rep' mean?"

"Underway Replenishment, Dess!" said Kongou, waving her hand in the air as she jabbed the sky with her outstretched pointer finger. Her long sleeve billowed behind her for a dramatic finish. "It's when one girl gives fuel, ammo, and Supplies to her friends."

"Oh," said the little destroyer, watching with rapturous attention as Jersey handed out apples and ice-cream bars to her girls. They all seemed to prefer the former to the latter, and Johnston almost tried to swap for Fubuki's ice cream before Jersey caught her with a light slap.

Akatsuki let out a single giggle before she caught herself, swallowing it back in with a 'proper' and 'demure' smile. "She's such a lady."

Kongou's eyes went wide. Jersey? Lady? She fancied herself a keen observer, her lookouts were some of the best in the entire Imperial Navy. But she couldn't for the life of her make that connection.

"Look at her," explained Akatsuki, "She's so hurting… but she's making sure her girls are fed!"

Kongou opened her mouth, then closed it again. That actually made a certain amount of sense. "Mmm," she said, "Yes, Jersey's a good flagship, like Tenryuu, Dess!"

Akatsuki smiled, "Maybe not that eleph-" she stopped, taking in a quick breath as she corrected herself- "elegant."

Kongou pretended not to notice.

"Yo, Sword-chan!" barked Jersey with the abject lack of subtly only an American could truly convey, "I got leftover shit, you want an apple or something?"

"Fu?" For a split-second, the cruiser's face went white as Kongou's frilly little outfit, her good eye dancing over the surface. "Ah," she shook her head, regaining her usual laid-back demeanor, "Nah, I ate on the way out."

"Kay," said the Battleship, biting a huge chunk out of a shiny red apple. If she noticed the cruiser's momentary panic, she didn't say a word.

Meanwhile, Johnston had broken off from the pack, letting her sister slide into position at one of Jersey's refueling lines. Kongou wouldn't have thought much of it, except the destroyer was making a beeline to her.

With her guns and torpedo tubes conspicuously pointed exactly a hundred and eighty degrees away from the battleship's track.

"'Zuki," said Kongou, smiling as she gave the destroyer a pat on the head. "Why don't you see if Jersey has any snacks for you, Dess?"

"Oh, Okay," said Akatsuki, smiling as she peeled off, leaving Kongou alone as the lion-hearted American destroyer pulled abreast.

For a moment, the two ships sailed in silence, Kongou waiting patiently while Johnston stared at her shoes.

Finally, Johnston broke the silence. "So…"

Kongou smiled, waiting for the little American to continue.

"Um…" Johnston risked a glance at the much bigger battleship, "I'm a little shit, and I shouldn't have pointed my tubes at you." She bit her lip, running her hand though her salt-encrusted feathers, "You fought with honor, and… and…"

Johnston looked over again, her eyes filling with tears as she stared up at Kongou, "And I'm really really sorry. I was tired and mad and I wasn't thinking-" her voice started to accelerate, the space between her words squeezing to almost nothing,"And I'll tell the Admiral as soon as we get to Japan I'm reallyreallyreallysorry!"

Kongou smiled. If she wasn't in her rigging, she'd have given the destroyer a huge hug. As it was, a simple ruffle of her hair would have to suffice. "Johnston… "

"Y-yes?" said the Destroyer, wiping at her face as she sailed just a little closer.

"What… exactly was your plan, hmm?" said the battleship, her voice sitting happily at it's regular bouncy timbre. No need to yell, especially when the girl already felt miserable.

"My-my plan?" said the destroyer, "I, uh… I though maybe you'd… do something."

"So," Kongou, smoothed a loose tuft of hair on the destroyer's head. "You thought we might be a threat, dess?"

"Mmhm."

"And you were prepared to engage myself, Kirishima, Tenryuu, and all her destroyers."

"Kinda…"

"While we have air superiority."

Johnston just offered a timid nod.

"All by yourself?"

An even smaller, timider nod.

"Johnston…" Kongou smiled, tousling the girl's hair. "That's what heroes do, Dess."

"Don't feel like a hero," mumbled the destroyer.

"You were," said Kongou, beaming as she planted her hands on her hips. "You and your sisters all were." She glanced over just enough to shoot the American a wink. "And I think you still are, Dess!"

Johnston sniffed. "R-really?"

"Mmhm!" smiled Kongou. "Now… go play with your sisters, Dess!"

A/N: Bonus points to whoever knows why Tenryuu got freaked out by the offer of an apple.