Putting It All on the Table
Posted on July 3rd, 2019 by Kimiko Suzuki and Diego Ricardo Navarro

by Jester and Zorro

In the lull after the first battle at Trondheim, following his harrowing adventure and short stay in sickbay, Diego Ricardo Navarro, callsign Zorro, found himself unable to sleep. Before he knew it, he had wandered into the assault bay to acquaint himself even further with the quirks of his new fighter. Expecting the place to be empty, he was surprised when he walked in on Suzuki, clad only in shorts and a tank top, in the midst of washing her Mustang.

Kimiko Suzuki, callsign Jester, looked up at Navarro as he approached, holding a dripping wet sponge in her hand, clearly surprised at the intrusion. She cocked her head at him with a questioning expression, and silence lingered between them until she finally said, “Good to see you on your feet, Zorro.” She resumed her work, resisting the urge to cast curious glances in his direction.

“Sí, I’m fine, but after today, I wholeheartedly agree.” He had been shot down, which was always a blow to a pilot’s ego, the brush with death notwithstanding. Then there was the mandatory sickbay visit after ejecting from a fighter—he was uninjured, but pilots had a saying that there were only two ways to leave a doctor’s office, either fine or grounded, so it wasn’t his favorite place to be, and he wasn’t even lucky enough to be seen by his favorite doctor. “Couldn’t sleep, so I’m here for… I don’t know, to see my new Mustang, I suppose.” Eyeing the sponge in her hand, he added, “Washing the old bird?”

She nodded, continuing to scrub. “Shinigami served me well today, so I am showing my appreciation.” Brushing stray hair away from her face with her forearm, she paused and looked over at him. “I’m sorry for the loss of your ship, but it could have been any of us. It was a hard-fought battle today.” She leaned back to survey her work with a sigh. “I’m almost finished, though. Perhaps you’d like to play some pool when I’m done?”

“Might as well, since sleep is off the table. And gracias, Jester; the León was a good ship and I’ll miss her.” He gestured to the unnamed fighter he’d flown back into the battle after being beamed aboard Atlantis. “But now I must learn to dance with a new partner. There’s not much I can do with her sitting on the deck, though, so do you need a hand?”

Kimiko couldn’t help but perk an eyebrow at him. “You… want to help me wash my Mustang?”

“Sure, why not?” he shrugged. “It gets us to the pool table faster.”

She couldn’t help but accept his unassailable logic, and working together, they quickly completed the job. Kimiko gave Shinigami an affectionate pat as they walked toward the pilot rec room, which was, of course, empty at this time of night. Diego Ricardo racked the balls for 9-ball while Kimiko replicated a pair of stiff drinks before returning to the table and carefully placing the cue ball for her break. Just as she was lining up her shot, Navarro interrupted from his relaxed position leaning against the wall, watching her as he casually sipped his drink. “Care to make it interesting?”

Without shifting from her position bent over the table, she glanced over at him. “What did you have in mind, Zorro? Haven’t you already lost enough today?” Her expression revealed nothing, but he knew her well enough to detect the teasing tone in her voice.

He smirked at the jab, then casually offered, “My new Mustang could use a wash, and since you’re so good at that, I thought you might be the right woman for the job, if you lose. But if you win, I’ll wash Shinigami for you after the next flight.”

She paused, considering. Washing her Mustang after a battle was a kind of ritual for her, but it couldn’t hurt to make this bet. Standing up, she pounded her drink and went back to the replicator for another pair. “Very well. You’re on. Best of five.” She returned with the drinks and once again leaned over the table, carefully lined up her shot, and broke to begin the first game.

Two games and drinks a piece later, Diego Ricardo eyed a juicy combination on the 4-ball that would send the 9-ball into the corner pocket. It was not a trivial shot due to the distances and angles involved, but he was confident that he could make it. “It all comes down to this, Jester,” he taunted, grinning and gesturing at the table with his cue. “I think that you’re going to look damn good washing my Mustang.” He leaned over the table and, after a short setup, made the shot, then looked back up at her with a smug smile.

Kimiko groaned and shook her head, then downed the rest of her drink, the alcohol lowering her inhibitions and defenses. “Guess I’ll be washing that unnamed señorita after all! Assuming you don’t get her shot down first.” Her face was a tipsy pink as she, the one nicknamed for her humorless demeanor, let out the tiniest of giggles at her own joke.

He smirked and finished his own drink. “I’ll try to wait until you’re done, so at least she’ll be clean when she goes down.”

She thought for a moment before responding. “You know, everyone knows you’re a ladies’ man, Zorro. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t insist on something like me washing it in my underwear while you watched.” Then, for the first time, Kimiko looked her colleague up and down and truly evaluated him as a man. “Actually, I might’ve played harder, if that had been on the table,” she added with a smirk of her own. “Watching you wash Shinigami in your skivvies might’ve been a better incentive.”

Both hands on his upright cue, Zorro leaned against the table and inclined his chin a bit as his friend’s bold flirtation caused him to regard her in a new light. It wasn’t that he’d never noticed her as a woman before, but that his type tended to be more traditionally feminine, and she was, as a fellow pilot, like one of the guys to him. Now, as his dark eyes took in what the tank-top and shorts displayed of her toned, lithe climber’s body, he had to admit that he was intrigued at where this would go. “Alright, Jester, double or nothing. Loser washes the winner’s Mustang in their underwear, while the winner gets to watch.”

She regarded him again, suddenly much more motivated to win. “I’ll take that bet, Zorro. We’re pilots, after all. We live for danger.” The corners of her mouth twitched upward as she racked the balls and they began their second set of games, this time with much more gusto given what was on the line. As they played, they continued to drink, and Kimiko continued to notice the graceful movements of Zorro’s tall, athletic body and look ever more forward to winning. What she was less conscious of was her own movements, and Zorro’s eyes on her while she played much like hers were on him. They prowled around the table like two predators circling a kill, both growing increasingly intent on victory and its spoils.

The pilots played game after game in their latest dogfight, trading wins and drinking to them, until it came to the final bout. They paused for yet another drink, both thoroughly drunk at this point and aware of the electricity in the air. Kimiko eyed him and took a deep breath, deciding to test the waters. She leaned against the table and casually commented, “You know, maybe we should just play this last game in our underwear so we can see what we’re playing for, hmm? I’ll put the prize on the table if you will, Zorro.”

“All in, then, Jester?” Diego Ricardo eyed her as he chalked his cue; this new side of her was compelling, and he definitely wanted to know what would happen next. “As you wish. I call.” Leaning the cue against the table, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair, keeping eye contact with her as he bared his well-muscled chest. Soon after, his shoes and jeans joined the shirt, leaving only his Starfleet-issue boxers. Feigning a few stretches, he nonchalantly asked, “Like what you see?”

Not to be outdone, Kimiko approached him and undressed along with him, keeping her eyes locked on his. She kicked off her shoes and slid her shorts down her legs, kicking them carelessly off to the side, discarding her tank top in a similar fashion in short order, leaving her standing in her bra and panties. “Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing.” She walked slowly around him, finally breaking eye contact to give him an appraising look. “But my answer is yes.”

“So’s mine. Perhaps you can tell.”

Kimiko could not help but smile at this. Drunk enough to not care about the consequences, she hoisted herself up so that she was sitting on the pool table. “Change of plans, then? Your prize is on the table, Zorro. If you want it…” her voice grew low and hungry, “come and claim it.”

Ordinarily, Diego Ricardo would have wordlessly accepted the invitation, but being this drunk, he first quipped, “We’ll call the game a draw,” before closing the distance to her in a single lunge, repercussions be damned. She drew him into her embrace and lips touched flesh, the electricity of the moment consuming them.

— Several hours later… —

Kimiko and Diego Ricardo awoke, hung over and in a tangle of limbs and naked skin, in what they soon realized was a storage room off the assault bay. “Unnnnnggggghhhhh… Did we…? We did, didn’t we.”

“We did…” Their eyes widened as memories emerged from the morning haze of the night of wild fucking, which was the correct word since what they did could not simply be called sex or lovemaking, since it was pure, primal fucking. “Whoa, we DID. We really did… was that as good for you as it was for me? Because I think that was the best I’ve ever had.”

“…Likewise.”

They slowly extricated themselves from each other and stood up, gingerly picking up and donning their discarded underwear. Diego Ricardo had to help retrieve Kimiko’s bra, which was somehow hanging from the air vent in the ceiling, gently swaying in the breeze.

“Soooo… what now?” he asked, handing Kimiko her bra.

“Now, I think we go out to the rec room and find the rest of our clothes and hope that nobody else found them first,” she replied, in her usual deadpan.

“You know what I mean.”

She turned to look him in the eye, fixing him with her serious expression. “I’m not really looking for any kind of romantic relationship, if that’s what you mean. I’m happy to just be your friend and colleague. I’ll still watch your back when we’re out there.”

“Agreed. You’re a good friend, and I truly value that, but we almost died out there yesterday, so let’s live a little. After a night like that… I have to admit, I’m wondering why we should quit? What would you say to still being friends… but with benefits?”

It was true that they had almost died, and that the past few hours had been amazing… was this really happening? “What, you mean meet up and …‘wash Mustangs’ every now and then, and nobody needs to know about it but us?”

“Well… yes, that is exactly what I mean, sí.”

“Wait, though, aren’t you sort of chasing after that doctor?”

He shrugged. “Sí, kind of, but I don’t know if she’s even interested in me, so who knows where that goes.”

She laughed, letting her guard down for a moment, which seemed a bit strange considering the fact that she was wearing nothing more than panties. She felt safe with this man, her friend, who had always had her back on their missions. Why not live a little? “Okay, Zorro. I trust you, and I think we can deal with the risks. I’m in. …Though, I think we should… do it again, since we’re sober this time.”

“¿Qué? Now?”

“Yeah. Why not? We’re already mostly naked, right?” she said with a wink, gesturing with her bra in one hand.

Without hesitation, Diego Ricardo picked up Kimiko and carried her to a supply crate on an anti-grav pallet, where they proceeded to vigorously cement their agreement. Afterward, they hastily retrieved their clothes from the rec room, high-fived, and hit the showers.