Belated Battleship Chapter 53: Who the hell wears THAT?

Jersey felt a small smile creep onto her face as she slouched back in her chair. She didn't really feel like smiling, not after the whole… disaster with little Heermann, but it was hard notto smile with a belly full of warm pancakes and fresh bacon. Well, notfull. She'd only been eating for an hour. And judging by the considerable amount of sloshing Jersey could feel deep within her tummy-slash-fuel-bunkers-slash-magazines-slash-stores-because-shipgirl, she wasn't even close to her preferred stomach-bustingly stuffed state.

But on the other hand, her insides weren't trying to maul her and stage a communist uprising because of the starvation diet she'd forced them to undergo. That was good. Jersey hatedcommunists, especially when they lived inside her belly. Of course, there was a very good reason Jersey and Akagi had brought their—let's be real here—gluttony to a temporary halt.

Together, the battleship and the carrier could put food away almost as fast as Tenryuu and her kiddos could cook it up. If the adorable girls and their equally-adorable minder were going to get some breakfast, Jersey and Akagi would have to take a break.

"So," Jersey drummed her hands against her stubbornly-slender waist. The battleship pursed her lips as she eyed up the carrier who'd brought her beloved nation to its knees. By all rights, Jersey knew she should be seething with anger just looking at her. But she wasn't. Actually, she found the girl's porcelain-smooth to be adorable in a beautiful sort of way.

"Hmm?" Akagi dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. Jersey wasn't really sure why, she had syrup stains all over her white… asian… shirt… thing. For all her gluttony, the girl couldn't eat her way out of a pancake if she had a fucking map.

"You uh," Jersey motioned to the massive pile of cleaned-off plates—and noted with pride that hers was a bit bigger. "Enjoy you pancakes?"

"Very much," Akagi dipped her head in a polite bow, her cheeks all but glowing as she offered the American a smile. A real, solid smile, not those demure little grins some of the girls gave when they were really just tired of your shit and waiting for you to shut up. Jersey was all to familiar with those. "I've never had food so… rich."

"This is nothing, honey," said Jersey. For a second she just smirked at the Japanese carrier, then a thought crossed her mind. "Wait."

"Hmm?"

"These are fucking pancakes," Jersey waved at where a stack had been on her sparkling plate, "You can get these in Japan."

"Well…" Akagi pursed her lips. It almost looked like she was deep in melancholy thought, then her tongue darted out to lick away a spot of syrup clinging to the corner of her mouth. "The supply situation in Japan is… rather strained."

Jersey knit her brow, but motioned for the carrier to continue.

"With… my appetite," Akagi waved to the massive stack of plates she'd managed to accumulate, "I can't bear to make things worth. I usually just eat rice."

"Shit, really?" Jersey's stomach recoiled in horror at the very thought of living without her beloved hamburgers.

"Mmhm," Akagi shrugged, "Sometimes I'll treat myself to a few pickled radishes, maybe a few donuts." The carrier shrugged, "If I had a good sortie."

"Hell…" Jersey clapped a hand to her face. "Hell, girl. We'll have to get you some real food."

"Rice is-"

"Rice is not real food," said Jersey. "Pancakes, steak, shit like that is real food." She let her head hang until her chin bumped up against the warm—if somewhat sticky—fabric of her blood soaked scarf. Now with added stickiness from a few tiny beads of syrup.

"I wouldn't know," said Akagi with a sad shrug.

"Shit, uh…" Jersey shrugged. "You ever come to the states, we're getting burgers."

Akagi thought for a second, then she smiled. "I'd like that, Jersey-san."

"Oh, you will," said Jersey. The battleship glanced over to where Tenryuu and her little kiddos were happily devouring their own—massively smaller-portions of sausages and pancakes. Akatsuki was taking small, careful bites and dabbing at her chin after seemingly every mouthful, while Tenryuu and Ikazuchi just scarfed down the delicious fluffy goodness as fast as their mouths would allow.

Jersey was pretty sure she saw Tenryuu using her sword to cut up a stack of pancakes bigger than her stupid-huge-jap-boat-boobs. Hibiki just looked on with a resigned little sigh.

"Ay!" Jersey waved at the light cruiser and her destroyer kindergarten. And did not overbalance out of her seat in the process, she caught herself just before that happened.

"Ufufu?" Tenryuu let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and an honest question. It was hard to tell with her mouth stuffed to capacity—and quite likely beyond.

"You gals did a hell of a job," Jersey flashed DesDiv Six and their sword-wielding minder a thumbs up.

Tenryuu swallowed with a loud gulp, "Thanks, this American stuff's not bad."

"Well… get back do it." Jersey waved to the half-eaten stack of pancakes still sitting on the light cruiser's plate. She was about to say something else to Akagi when she noticed a tiny figure standing next to her. A tiny figure holding a steaming carafe of coffee over her head like a delicious little hat.

"Coffee, nanodesu?"

Jersey smiled, "Sure thing, munchkin." She quickly traded a gentle head pat for the delicious black blood of life. "Akagi?"

"No thank you," the round-faced carrier held up her hand in a polite gesture of refusal. Not that Jersey really minded, the more coffee she could get into her system the better. She ran best when her blood was at least thirty percent caffeine. She didn't even bother with a cup. The battleship just spun the top of with a flick of her thumb and gulped down a solid third of the dark liquid in a single gulp.

It tasted… a little salty and judging from the grittiness, it was more than a little burnt. "Hey, Inazuma?"

"Hmm?" the tiny destroyer was stuck between blushing out of the limelight, and blushing because a battleship was addressing her.

"This is fucking perfect."

"You're welcome, nanodesu!" Inazuma beamed from ear to ear for a moment. Then she quickly regained her composure and darted behind her momboat's skirts to beam in relative privacy.

"You have a way with destroyers," observed Akagi with a quiet chuckle.

Jersey froze for an instant while her mind processed the carrier's words. She knew Akagi didn't mean it like that… but damn if it didn't cut a little deep. "Yeah," said the American with a forced little grin, "Guess I am."

Judging by the dark cloud that passed over Akagi's face, the carrier knew she'd struck a nerve. But to her credit, she didn't push she issue any further.

Jersey took another long gulp of coffee, but this time she held it in her mouth just long enough to absorb the full spectrum of awful coffee taste. It was glorious in its badness. The blackened, bitter grit tasted like home. The only thing it needed was more caffeine. Then it'd be perfect. Maybe if-

"BREAK~ FAST~ TIME~!" A thunderously loud, bouncy voice boomed though the dining room like a demented bunny rabbit on crack. Jersey hadn't spent much time in Japan, but she knew that voice by heart. How could she not, after having it hammered into her brain like a metaphorical bulldozer being operated by an equally metaphorical seabee.

"Damnit, Kongou." Jersey cradled her head in one hand and tried to force a scowl onto her smiling face. "I-"

Even if Kongou hadn't rammed an oven-fresh strawberry scone into the battleship's mouth the instant it opened, Jersey still wouldn't have been able to get another word out.

Kongou was bouncing, literally bouncing though the dining room with her usual boundless energy. Only this time she was dressed in very… snug white bikini with bright red trim.

It wasn't particularly scandalous, but it also wasn't particularly good at keeping Kongou's… boungous from bouncing every which way as she skipped around the room. Also, she was wearing a frilly pink apron. For some reason.

"Uh…" Jersey felt the scone fall out of her mouth and land on her bloodstained breast with a quiet thump, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Her brain was struggling just to keep her boilers running right now.

As if Kongou bouncing all over the place in a skimpy little bikini wasn't enough, Kirishima was following right behind in an identical swimsuit. At least the younger battle cruiser wasn'tquite so jiggly as her older sister, but… it was still a lot for Jersey's mind to handle. But she was an American, an American that lived though the sixties at that. She could get a hold of herself!

And just as she told herself that, in walked Mutsu and Nagato. Nagato at least managed to look businesspeople in her char col-and-white one piece. She still looked impossibly stacked, much to Jersey's grumbling chagrin, but she had her usual focused half-scowl on as she migrated towards the serving area.

Mutsu did no such thing. Her swimsuit might have the same color scheme as her sister, but hers was a bikini. And she fucking knew how goddamn hot she looked… And she was fucking flaunting it! Jersey had to screw her eyes shut and focus very hard on that bit of gossip she'd picked up on just to keep her sanity.

Mutsu's Richardson's girl. Mutsu's Richardson's girl. Mutsu's Richardson's girl.

Jersey was just starting to feel in control when she heard the door slam open. Or possible a battery of naval rifles going off mere inches from her ear. The sounds were nearly in distinguishable.

"I, MUSASHI, HAVE ARRIVED!"

"Oh fuck me," grumbled Jersey. She knew she shouldn't look, but she couldn't not.

The Japanese super battleship had traded in her impractical-ass bandages and skirt for an equally impractical-ass black bikini. With boob pockets. For some fucking reason. Jersey was in shock, the Japanese woman had found an outfit that looked like it was actually closer to boob-spillage than her usual stupid-ass titty-bandaids.

Of course, she was also wearing a pair of 'shorts' that would've made even Jersey's prude rage start acting up, but noticing them would have required the battleship to tear her icy eyes from Musashi's… musashis.

"Fuck it." Jersey mimed flipping the table with a resigned grunt. "I'm done."

"Jersey?" Akagi glanced at the American with an innocent little look. Because of course she would, little miss flat-top over there wasn't that far behind Musashi in the top weight department. "You haven't finished your breakfast."

"I'll eat a big lunch," said Jersey as she gathered her plates while carefully keeping her back to the stupid top-heavy Japanese battleships. "Besides," she carefully made her way to the… dish… area, "Gotta get changed."

"Oh," Akagi winced a little as she glanced at Jersey's blood-encrusted shirt. "Well," she glanced to were Kongou and Kirishima were bouncing around the kitchen like pinballs. "I'll join you. It's the battleships' turn anyways."

Jersey scowled. "Yeah, uh… you uh… go right ahead." She bit her lip, "Gotta do something first.

Thankfully, Akagi didn't ask what that something was.

—|—|—

Yeoman Gale hummed a tuneless little song as she marched her way up the shallow concrete steps to the base gym. Her ipod was blasting her favorite workout mix. Her shoes were practically bouncing off the concrete with each step. She looked damn good in her snug yoga capris and snug—yet tasteful—tank top. And the crisp mid-December air felt more bracing than cold. It was a good day for a workout.

Actually, what it was was a good day for a swim. Gale had a really cute sky-blue swimsuit burning a hole in her closet, one she was finally feeling confident enough to wear around. Not that she'd ever be able to compete with the curves of a certain North Carolina class, but still. She looked fucking adorable in that thing.

But Gale hadn't been able to hit the pool in months. Partly because having to babysit Poi was stressful, frustrating, and sapped her motivation almost as much as it fed her desire for ice cream by the gallon. But mostly because after the base pool'd been converted into a shipgirl dockyard, there wasn't any place for her to swim.

If the girls were hurt badly enough to need the docks, they certainly needed their privacy. Gale didn't mind giving it too them, especially since it gave her one less area where she had to keep her composure around… Wash. It was hard enough keeping a level head on her shoulders around the innocently-smoldering North Carolina class when she wasn'tdripping wet and wearing a swimsuit.

Gale shuddered as thoughts started creeping into her mind. The kind of lewd thoughts not befitting a member of the US Navy, especially when they involved a superior officer. The Yeoman forced herself to focus on her last safety briefing, or as she and her friends had named it '101 places not to stick superglue.'

Gale was focusing so hard she almost missed the downcast face of one of her oldest—and arguably sanest—friends on the base.

"Hey, Jen!" Gale broke into a trot as she caught up with Yeoman Jennifer Bowers. The taller sailor was marching dejectedly down the gyms steps, a cup of sickly green… plantish slime held loosely in her hand.

"Oh, hey Sarah," said Bowers with a very obvious forced smile."Gonna hit the gym?"

"Yeah," Gale bit her lip. The cold was getting a bit… nippy against her bare arms, but it wasn't anything she couldn't suck up. Not when her friend was looking so glum. "You, uh, you doing okay?"

Bowers looked like she as going to agree for a second, then the fragile mask of her smile shattered and her shoulders slouched even more. "So… you know how I was trying to drop those last five?" She patted at her stomach.

"Yeah?" Gale winced. She had a good idea how this was going to go.

"So… I ran into Wash the other day at lunch."

"Oh… fuck," Gale winced even harder. Wash liked to eat a light—at least for a shipgirl—breakfast. Said it helped her wake up and say on-task during the day. But that meant her lunches were the kind of gluttonous feast that no one who's name didn't rhyme with "Mersey" could finish.

"Yeah," muttered Bowers. "It's uh… Motivation, I think."

"Fuck, okay…" Gale rocked on her heels. "She's a ship."

"I know, but-"

"No," Gale silenced her friend with a single finger across her lips. "She's a ship. She's not a girl."

Bowers blinked.

"You remember that time the gas line broke and dinner was an hour late?"

"Mmhm," Bowers gave a timid nod.

"Wash missed her lunch that day," said Gale, "Poor thing had to sortie on an empty stomach, so when dinner was an hour late…" Gale shook her head. It was hard not to cringe at the thought. "She was… she was literally shaking. I'm pretty sure I saw her crying when she didn't think anyone was noticing."

"Damn," breathed Bowers.

"Yeah," said Gale, "I don't think she stopped clutching her stomach for hours after that. So, uh… don't feel bad about how much they eat. Feel bad about how miserable they get when they're not fed."

Bowers let out a little chuckle. It was barely louder than a wispier, but Gale knew it was genuine. That alone set her own smile going. "Nice, uh, nice speech there, Sarah."

"What can I say?" Gale shrugged, "I spend a lot of time around the doc."

Bowers chuckled, "I've noticed… if I didn't know you were gay…"

Gale rolled her eyes, "Eat shit, Jen."

Bowers just motioned to her blended-plant-smoothie-thing. "He is pretty cute th-"

Gale let out a hiss as she slapped her finger across her friend's mouth once more. "No."

"Bu-"

"No." Gale shook her head. "He's Jersey's man."

"Bu-"

"Shhhshshhshh." Gale narrowed her eyes, "I have fifty bucks on them."

Bowers threw up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, fine. Geez."

Gale smiled. "Hey, we're still on for DnD tonight, yeah?"

"Should be, yeah," said Bowers. "Dee wanted to join."

Gale winced. Bringing Dee to a game that relied heavily on the rolling of dice, and thus luck sounded like a terrible idea. An idea on the same tier as 'let's superglue googly eyes to my dick'. "Maybe…" The sailor drummed her hands against the meat of her thighs. She wasn't even to Jersey's Iowa-class legs… but damnnit, she was getting there. "I could run a one-shot? See how it goes?"

"Mm…" Bowers shrugged. "Well, uh…" she glanced down at her belly, "I'm going to go cry in a shower until my abs stop hurting."

"Don't drown!" Gale waved at her friend as she trotted back up the stairs. Getting over one's… initial reaction to a shipgirl's appetite was a frustrating thing to have to do. But… hopefully Bowers was at least going in the right direction now.

Gale's thoughts settled into the pleasant realm of planning out a quick adventure she could run for Dee. One that ideally wouldn't be ruined by the well-intentioned but klutzy-as-fuck destroyer's abysmal luck. It's like the girl's life was a series of natural ones. Well, except for that one time.

With her mind swimming in the might and magic of her favorite tabletop game, Gale managed to make it all the way to the entrance to the women's locker rooms without thinking about the very real—and much more annoying—magic bullshit that permeated her.

But she was an NCO of the United States Navy. Her life was suffering. And today, that suffering took the shape of a Clemson-class destroyer girl sprinting out of the locker room as fast as her tiny little legs could carry her.

Gale'd recognize Borie anywhere. She was the only girl of her class at Everett, and she was a pretty memorable one at that. Except she wasn't wearing her usual outfit. In fact, it almost looked like-

"IIIIMMM! NAAAAAKEEEEED!" Borie yelled at the top of her lungs as she streaked past Gale into the Gym lobby.

Gale was about to let out a resigned sigh when yet the omnipotent shipgirl bullshit decided her life wasn't screwed up enough.

"Damnit, Borie, NO!" Who should come running out of the locker room than Wash herself. The battleship was better dressed than the streaking little destroyer, but not by much. Her creamy skin was still wet from her bath, and the only thing she wore was a rather revealing coral-blue bikini.

Gale really didn't want to stare at a higher-ranking officer, but it was so hard not to. She'd only ever seen Wash wearing her uniform—or at least most of it. And that uniform included a snug compression bra that kept every… um… 'thing' neatly contained.

Wash's swimsuit though, did nothing of the kind. Every step the sprinting battleship took sent her chest—and it really was a nice chest. That sports bra did her bust line no favors—bouncing with the kind of perfect harmony that was more elegant than erotic. The way her waist-length hair flared out around her like a wake just framed the motions of her sculpted body like it was a piece of fine art on display in some expensive gallery.

Gale was so entranced watching the way water droplets moved along Wash's bouncing… areas that she completely failed to realize she was standing right in the battleship's way.

Wash realized it mere seconds before Gale. The battleship's eyes went wide as her heels dug into the floor. Her arms swung forward as she desperately tried to slow herself, but it was too little too late. Wash slammed into Gale at close to full speed, and the two women collapsed into a heap, skidding together at least a dozen feet from their combined inertia.

When Gale's mind finally rebooted into action, she let out a roaring laugh. Or tried to anyways, her laugh was mostly muffled by the North Carolina-class chest surrounding it. Of all the cliches to happen to her… it had to be this one. And it had to be with freaking Wash too.

"I…" the battleship's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she stared down at Gale. Her mouth quivered between half-open and slammed shut, and the color was slowly draining from her already creamy-pale face. "I'm sorry," she stammered.

"'s fine," mumbled Gale as she tried to pull her self out from under the battleship's staggering weight. "Just an accident, ma'am."

"I… I know," mumbled Wash as she pulled herself to her feet. "I'm…" Wash trailed off as she trudged back to the docks.

Gale blinked. Oh… shit. SHIT! The collision. The reason her nose—gorgeous as it was—was ever so slightly off. The only time Wash ever lost a crewman was when she accidentally rammed Indiana. "Fuuuuuck," Gale hissed the word out through gritted teeth and clawed at her temples.

"You okay, ma'am?" asked a very concerned, but still very naked Borie. The little girl crossed her arms as she stared down, her round face utterly brimming with concern.

Gale let out a long sigh. "Yeah…" It was a lie, but there wasn't anything she could do to fix this problem. Not right now. Trying to talk to Wash right now would just make things worse. "Also, Borie?"

"Yeah?"

Gale hauled herself back onto her feet. "Put a damn shirt on."

Borie bit her lip as she stared up at the sailor. "Do I have to?"

Gale stared with the full force of an upset NCO.

"Fiiiiiine."