#slight PalomoxJensen

[riathedreamer]

For Red Team’s “Matchmaking” Make Me a Match Palomo starts a matchmaking service while Grif and Simmons serve as the example of the perfect couple.

Jensen hesitated before asking, “No, seriously, what are you doing?”

Before Palomo could even open his mouth, Bitters groaned loudly, “Don’t get him started again.”

But it was too late. Before anyone could stop him, Palomo had spread his papers all over the dining table. Some of them included colored diagrams, most of them in a shade of blue.

Jensen took a closer look at one of the papers, briefly wondering whatever the connection between ‘number of comic books’ and ‘maximum outcome’ could be, before she asked, “I am still not quite sure what you are doing.”

“I am getting a girlfriend!” Palomo announced proudly, earning another sigh from Bitters and an amused nod from Smith.

After another glance at the colorful papers in front of her, Jensen asked gingerly, “So you’re adding theory to this plan?”

“Well, Captain Tucker tried to help me out at the last party with, you know, talking to girls but…”

“But he got rejected,” Bitters finished for him, twirling a fork between his fingers. His dinner tray lay untouched in front of him as the conversation stole his attention from the food. “Four times. At the last party alone.”

Jensen winched behind her visor. “Oh. Sorry to hear that, Palomo.”

“Yeah…” He sighed but then suddenly cheered up again. “But Captain Tucker said it was only because I had not found the right girl yet. So that is what I’m doing.”

After a couple of seconds with confused silence, Bitters cut to the chase, “He’s starting a matchmaking service.”

“Oh.”

“I still feel like you are leading them on,” Smith commented shortly and tilted his head to send the papers a displeased glance.

Palomo shrugged. “I am leading them to me. That makes it okay.”

“So it’s not an actual service?”

“Depends on how much service you see in signing yourself up and immediately get paired with Palomo. He’s the only male involved so far.” Bitters let out a snort. “You almost sounded disappointed, Katie.”

“This whole project is still depending on girls actually signing up,” Smith reminded Palomo who was keeping himself busy by scribbling down notes.

“But we’re in a war zone!” Palomo reminded him with a tsk. “Love always blossoms in a war zone. Besides, I am offering two free cans of soda.”

Bitters snorted again, a bit more laughter to it this time, and doubled over slightly. “Why not use a picture of Smith’s torso as clickbait while you’re at it?”

“Don’t get me involved in this.”

“We share locker room with you, Smith – we’ve all seen your abs.”

Palomo ignored Bitters’ suggestion and instead looked up to ask, “I just need to get the questions right. So I can sort the girls. We should start with the basic – ‘what are you doing for a living?’”

“Fighting. Which can be said about everyone. On Chorus. In the last five years,” Bitters reminded him dryly.

“Okay, maybe that was not the best question. Ooh. Rebel or Fed?”

Jensen made a disapproving sound. “That’s very judgmental of you, Palomo.”

“I just want to find the girl with smallest desire to kill me.”

“So you’re going with the Feds then?” Bitters concluded. “I mean, the Rebel girls know you.”

“Huh. Good point,” Palomo admitted and scribbled down the question.

Then, across the mess hall, a shriek rung out, “I am going to kill you!” None of the eating soldiers as much as flinched – this had become the daily routine by now.

“Geez, Simmons, take it a bit harder, would you?” An orange-armored soldier entered the hall, quickly followed by a maroon soldier who seemed to be breathing down his neck.

The Lieutenants continued on undisturbed, letting the argument become background noise. Palomo looked up at his friend on the other side of the table. “You got any ideas, Katie?”

“I guess fellow interests are a good start. Some common ground.”

“Do you have any idea of how long I spent updating that terminal?!” Simmons continued to yell some tables behind them. “And you just wrecked it again by trying to download that filth!”

Grif walked calmly as if unaware of the cyborg screaming at him. “Well, I didn’t know your nerd  stuff was that fragile!”

“Of course you didn’t! You don’t know shit!”

Palomo waved off Jensen’s suggestion. “Nah, too open. I don’t want to read two pages about shopping. I’m going to have a lot of answers to sort through. I need a quick system.”

“So short fun questions then?” Jensen caught on while collecting Palomo’s papers into a small pile. “Like… What would you spend a million dollars on?”

“Snackcakes, Simmons, snackcakes. I’m telling you – it’s the solution. If Kimball wants better working morale around here, I say free snackcakes to everyone. Might even get you to stop yelling at me as the first fucking thing in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t have to be yelling if you had not destroyed all my hard work with your dirty habits!”

Bitters was slowly unwrapping a snack bar from Gold Team’s latest raid when his head perked up at Jensen’s comment. “Like that’d do any good. Chorus doesn’t have dollars. Or anything worth a million.”

“It’s a hypothetical question, Bitters.”

“So? If we think hypothetically, Palomo could imagine any girlfriend he wants.”

“I want a girl who is willing to praise me. Boost my self-confidence,” Palomo declared and added it to his list.

“So you want a girl to give you a high-five?” Bitters concluded, crushing the wrapping paper into a small ball in his hand.

“I think I have to agree with Palomo on this one,” Jensen said softly. “I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship where we openly express our admiration for each other.”

Bitters threw the ball back and forth between his hands as he snorted, “Is this the high-five club?”

“I don’t understand how anyone can be that stupid!” Simmons groaned loudly. The Captains were slowly making their way to the Lieutenants’ table.

“You’re the one who didn’t add a fucking password in the first place!”

Jensen shrugged at Bitters’ comment. “No, just some sweet nicknames every once and again, I suppose.”

“Dumbass.”

“Nerd.”

Bitters’ visor hid the way he rolled his eyes. “So serenades? Full-blown love confessions?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

Jensen straightened out her back. Both Smith and Palomo instinctly inched backwards a little, knowing she was about to enter her scolding-mode. “Now you’re just being bitter, Antoine. It’s not like you have a relationship to brag about.”

“Yeah, neither do you. Or Smith. Or Palomo.”

“Just give it a few days!”

“It’s not going to work,” Bitters told him sternly. Crossing his arms, he waited for an argument to start, well-knowing he was capable of proving his point.

“What is going on here?” Simmons asked, causing all the Lieutenants to jerk slightly. The Captains had now finally reached the table and were staring down at Palomo’s colorful plans in confusion.

“Well…”  

Before Palomo could begin his explanation, Smith folded his hands and replied calmly, “This is Palomo asking Jensen on a date.”

All the helmets in various colors first turned towards Palomo, then towards Jensen who was blushing so much it could somehow be seen through the visor.

The two Lieutenants briefly shared a glance, both rubbing their necks awkwardly.

“Sure,” she finally said in a light tone, avoiding visor-contact. “I never minded being a test subject before.”

“Well, that sounds romantic.”

“Like you’re the one to talk, Grif,” Simmons immediately barked at him. “You don’t have an ounce of romance in your body.”

“Half my body’s yours. So my ounce may have been crushed by the tank. So that’s Tucker’s fault.”

Simmons was just about to retort, finger already half-raised into a scolding position, when Palomo suddenly exclaimed, “You guys can help me out! What did you do on your first date?”

The two Captains both turned their heads towards him, the tension leaving their bodies as their stances slumped into one of confusion.

“Wait… What?”

“You don’t call it dating after marriage, Palomo.” Bitters leaned back in his chair. “After that it’s like obligated social sessions.”

“Who the fuck said we were married?” Simmons asked. His voice was very loud but thin, close to cracking had the suppressed annoyance not kept it stable.

The four Lieutenants slowly shared glances, suddenly unsure of how and whether they should continue the conversation. Eventually it was of course Smith who tried to explain, “Captain Tucker insisted-“

“Is he still doing that?!” Simmons sputtered, almost losing his grip on his tray.

“Apparently,” Grif replied with a shrug. He kept his gaze on the table, serving as a calm contrast to the maroon soldier who was freaking out next to him.

“So you all believed…”

“‘bout the marriage thing?” Bitters finished Simmons’ question and nodded. “Sure. Had my doubts ‘bout the name tattoos though.”

Simmons froze, the horror of the realization hitting his body. “What?” he asked, voice wavering by this point.

“It would be a bit overkill, I suppose.” Jensen looked up at her Captain. “I mean, the skin drafts and cyborg limbs do tell the story. Tattoos probably aren’t needed. Unless for aesthetic reasons.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Simmons declared, tray shaking in his hands. “I’m going to kill him, and then I’m coming back to kill you.” He turned his head sharply to send Grif one last dark glare before storming out of the mess hall.

Grif snorted and then called after him, “Hey, when you scold Tucker, tell him that just because he got a name tattoo doesn’t mean we’re that lame.” When Simmons was out of hearing range, he chuckled slightly under his breath and let out an impressed whistle as he turned towards the Lieutenants again, “Man, it’ll take forever to wipe that blush off his face. Nice work by the way.”

“Thank you, sir,” Smith replied proudly, completing his second achievement of the morning.

Palomo sent Jensen another smile through the visor, before turning towards Grif, a hand on the forgotten bunch of papers on the table. “So about that first date…”

“Two words for you, kid: Vegas Quadrant.”