Poker Night
by APB
Part 1
Feeling manic and twirling happily around the obstacle course of the tables, chairs and tray-carrying crewmembers like a whirling dervish, Treysa Barlow slid up to the table occupied by Seaman Anthony "hey only my mother called me that" Piccolo and the poster child for sulking, Lucas Wolenchak. Slipping up behind the enlisted crewman, she got her cold hands around his neck and caroled out gaily, "Hey Tony!"
The wary sailor flinched away. "Don't do that!" he said irritably. "Hey what?"
Pulling out a chair and plopping into it, Trey laughed silently at him. "You know what Tuesday is?"
"Naw, should I?" He gave her a crooked grin. In some ways the prickly older ensign reminded him of his cousin, Angie, in spite of the difference in ages. "What is Tuesday?" he asked mockingly.
"March 17th, you silly child," she picked up his cup and sniffed the coffee inside dubiously, then put it down again.
"AHHH. Pop's second favorite parade day?"
Lucas looked at him curiously. "Second favorite? What was his first? Thanksgiving?"
With a look of deep disgust, Tony replied as if it was obvious to anyone with an ounce of brain, "Colombus day, of course."
Trey shrugged her shoulder dismissively. "The dago version of St. Pat's, huh? The macho men go out, march a little around the town, then drink lots of beer to recover from the effort while the women cook, huh Tony?"
"Yeah. 'Cept maw never could cook, and it was the K of C instead of the Sons of Ireland." Trey leaned forward persuasively and lowered her voice.
"What if I knew where a couple of bottles of good irish whiskey were hiding? I was thinking you, me, wondekid here, Migs & tim play a little poker, drink a bit of god's own & get silly." Tony snorted.
"What about Jim?"
"What about him?" She sat back. "Oh, come on, Piccolo! You know and I know, where he goes, Ford shows up and that man could stop the fun at a Mardi Gras."
What about Ari?" he asked. "Don't you think she'd want to be included?" Trey shrugged the objection off with a wave of impatience.
"Come on, ol' Dr. Doolittle has to study. You know that. She always does her college coursework on Tuesday nights. That's why I figured it would be safe. Look. If it will make you happy, I'll check with her and get her approval for you to play. OK?"
While Lucas looked insulted, Trey jumped up, patted him on the shoulder and walked away, laughing, well aware that he was glaring at her back. With one last glance over her shoulder, she sashayed out of the room.
"Well, I don't know, Trey," Miguel demurred. "I mean, if Ari finds out ..."
"She'll be upset that you're having fun without her? You and Lucas! You're both afraid to make a move without her ok." Miguel's eyebrows lowered, a warning sign of annoyance, and even Tim looked uncomfortable at the charge. Trey gave him a disgusted glance. "You too?" Looking up, she noticed a familiar petite form halting at the entrance and looking around. Trey pushed her chair away from the table and stood suddenly, "Look, there she is now. I'll just go and ask her for you. Why don't I?"
Easily evading Miguel's restraining hand, Trey threw up her hand, calling out as the other woman started to leave. "Ari, wait up!"
Ensign Ari Adler, friend, co-worker, & sometimes little sister to Trey "if I'm old enough to be her mother, why does she order me around?" Barlow, stopped to wait for the other woman. She knew Trey was definately up to something, something she didn't expect the younger woman to approve of and, most likely involving one or all of the males in their little group from the feline and malicious gleam in her eyes.
With a suspicious frown, she asked, "What are you up to?"
Trey feign total innocence, eyes wide, hands open, palm upward, and she mouthed the words *who me?* Dropping the pose, she asked challengingly, "Well, you are still doing your college class work on Tuesday nights, right?"
"Yeah....... And ....?" Ensign Adler answered in a wary
tone.
"Tony & myself were trying to get a game of poker up for this Tuesday & I thought I'd see if I could lighten the wallets of the loves of our lives, which of course they'd end up getting back next leave in dinner or something....."
"Just the four of you?" Ari asked curiously. She knew very well that Tuesday was St. Patrick's day, and she had plans of her own for that.
Baring her teeth in an almostferal grin, Trey dared the other woman to object. "Lucas."
Predictably, the small ensign bridled indignantly "Come on Trey, thats not fair throwing him in to a game with the rest of you. Miguel and Tony alone would eat him alive."
"He didn't think you'd let him. Neither did Miguel. That's why I told them that I'd ask for your permission for them, Lucas and Miguel, both. And anyway. Its not like I asked Darwin or Dagwood you know. The boy needs some male bonding, the old fashioned way, and so does Migs." Ari winced at the nickname.
"Then why are you playing?" she asked quietly, controlling her breathing with care. Trey grinned rougishly.
"I have the whisky & the cards." Ari nodded abruptly, knowing exactly why Trey was setting it up like this, and also knowing that if the other woman hadn't thought her out of the way, then there was no way that Ari would have heard anything of the plans. She looked over at the table where Miguel and Tim sat, both of them craning their heads around watching anxiously. Very well, if that was what they wanted, so be it.
"Then it's hoping I am that you will all be enjoying yourselves thoroughly," she replied before turning on her heel and leaving the galley. She could find someone else to share her good fortune with. Trey grinned triumphantly and returned to the table.
"Mommy gave you permission," Trey teased as she walked up to the two men were sitting there.
"I do not have to ask her permission for anything," Migul replied indignately.
Tim just shook his head sadly. "I don't know about that, Miguel. Lately, I haven't seen you except when she says it's ok. It's a sad thing when a man gets tamed." Tim turned & winked at Trey, which made her laugh, something that was finally not a rare occurance. It had been a long time before she felt comfortable enough to relax and laugh around any of them and Tim treasured every occasion. But the glare Miguel was giving him made him shift uncomfortably. Trey rushed to his defense.
"Come on Migs. If you can't make fun of your frioends, then what good are they?" Trey asked rhetorically, still giggling.
"But Trey, sometimes you go to far. You can be cruel." was the serious reply from the noncom. " And I don't like being called 'Migs'." Trey snorted at the reminder, but nodded her head for the rest.
"Yeah. Ok. I'll grant you that, but i never really mean to be. Its just too easy to go after her, my polar opposite in everything."
"Not everything," Tim corrected, a sly smile on his face.
"OK hotshot, similar how?"
He smirked, locking his eyes on hers. "Good taste in men, for one thing and you're both knockouts, for another." Trey smiled at him, ignoring Miguel's still glowering person, pleased with the compliment.
"Ahh but the question begs to be asked, dirty minded wench that I am, do we both taste good to men?"
Tim turned beet red and began to splutter. Now Miguel stood up & leaned over, an angry presence invading her space. In a low, dangerous voice he answered her, saying, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
"Too late," she chirped, unintimidated. "But, then you wouldn't know, would you. Unless theres something you'd like to tell me?"
"No! I'm going to find Ari." He turned on his heel. Trey looked sadly at Tim and shook her head.
"Hen-pecked. I was afraid of that." Miguel froze and turned with arctic slowness. "What time when for the game?" he ground out between clenched teeth. "I'll be there."
Trey answered briskly, having gotten what she wanted. "Tomorrow, ward room 730ish, bring cash." As he strode away, his back rigid with annoyance, Tim turned to the complicated woman beside him.
"Why do I feel this is going to be one really interesting game?" he asked with a wry twist to his lips. Trey laughed low in her throat and leaned toward him.
Jim Brody walked in to the sensor lab and paused to take in the mess all over the floor. The experimental Wireless Satellite affectionately known as "Baby", for several reasons starting with it's being significantly smaller than the other three and ending with its assignment of trailing behind Darwin like a dolphin calf after its mother was laid open in the centre with part of its guts exposed and a variety of electronics parts and tools scattered as if it had exploded like a confetti bomb. Sensor Chief Ortiez hovered over the inanimate object protectively, glaring at Security Trainee Ensign Barlow who was sweating and snarling back.
"But I don't understand you," she was grinding out between gritted teeth. "I'm not technical, remember? And I don't read your mind like your girlfriend. There's no way I'm ever going to remember all this."
"You were technical enough to mess it up when you first came on board, ensign, SIR!" the sensor operator growled back. "And you'd better try to remember this, ensign. Because if you get involved in an emergency and have to do a repair job on any one of these yourself, you had better not mess it up." Jim grinned to himself. Treysa was a card, all right, but she could be a bit lazy, energy efficient, she called it. Usually he was the one forced to push her to the limits, it was a pleasure to see someone else taking her down a notch or two. He wondered at the hard edge to Miguel's voice, though. Usually he was the most easy-going of the crew.
"Why would I have to ..." Well, as much as Jim was enjoying watching someone else butt heads with his personal thorn, he was here to deliver a message. And the sooner he found out which way the wind was blowing, the sooner he could make his plans for the evening. He coughed, interrupting Barlow in mid-rant.
"Hate to break up this love fest, Barlow, but Lt. O'Neill asked me to deliver a message to you."
Pulling her eyebrows togetther in a quizzical expression, Treysa stood up and faced her direct superior. "Tim?" she asked in a puzzled voice. "He's off-duty. Why didn't he deliver his message himself?" Jim raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips at her.
"Because he's not off-duty anymore. He was covering for Jones on the bridge when Captain Bridger tapped him to go off boat with Ford & Henderson. Some local colony called for intervention because they think there's going to be trouble."
Trey let out a frustrated wail and slapped the tool in her hand against the other palm . It looked as though she were considering smashing it down to the floor. Thankfully, she changed her mind and gently replaced it on the tool bench. Jim had a pretty good idea as to just what Miguel would do if any of his precious equipment were damaged, and didn't particularly want to be around to see it.
"Ford, Henderson and O'Neill?" Miguel asked him, standing up and looking at him through narrowed eyes. "That's not much of an intervention team."
Brody shrugged. "We've got a couple of others at the colony and they're only supposed to be assessing the situation. They'll call in for help if Commander Ford thinks it's necessary."
"Respectfully, Jim, why not you?" the dark Cuban probed. Brody grinned broadly and rotated his right arm at the shoulder.
"That muscle I sprained last week is still giving me trouble," he replied. Trey, recovering some of her aplomb, managed to ground out the question, "Any idea of how long they'd be gone, sir?"
"Well, now, he didn't exactly say. But considering that the parade isn't over until 2100, and they'll be there until it's over, he did say you should find a fifth for the game because he doubted he'd be back in time." Well, that wasn't exactly what he said, but Jim had been trying to figure out how to wrangle an invitation into the game since Tony had let slip his plans for the evening.
Angrily, Trey snapped back, "Well, hell,! Why didn't he just take out a billboard, while he was at it and inform the whole crew."
Miguel looked at the ringleader for the poker night with a considering expression and then at Jim, who was trying to signal "I want in" for all he was worth. With a slow, malicious smile, the sensor chief asked, "Trey, you wouldn't mind taking Brody's money, now, would you? Or did you have a more personal reason for insisting that Tim be one of the players. Hmmm? Trey. Maybe you can't play unless he does? Or is this just a way to keep an eye on Tim and he's given you the slip?" Jim looked around between the two of them, trying to figure out what Miguel was talking about. What ever it was, Trey understood. Her eyes narrowed at him, and if looks could kill ...
Then the suggestion percolated through the emotional interference in her brain and a wide, vaguely malicious grin spread over her face. One eyebrow did its best to imitation Ortiz's own, devilishly questioning look. "Nooooo, I wouldn't mind at all. You want in, Jim?"
Jim just grinned as widely as possible and asked a question of his own. "When and where?"
"Fine. Ward room, 730, bring cash and be prepared to lose."
Go to 'St. Pat's Bash'