AN: This was extremely fun to write, even more so than the last chapter. Same language warnings on this one, plus some smut thrown in. Dunno if this is going to be the final installment or not, since I had a blast writing this. Anyway, enjoy!

Stars and Sunlight - Part IV

The Bahari Hotel was the most expensive, top-of-the-line resort to stay at in the New Nairobi. True to its name, the massive building stood beside the sea, with dark sands lining one side of the hotel, and a lush, dense park on the other. It catered to the obscenely rich—the ones that had invested in the Inner Colonies, and then wartime materials when the Covenant arrived.

Two rugged ODSTs and a scarred Spartan were not amongst that class of people—and judging by the looks they got from the other patrons, it was a resented fact—and they'd entered a world Naomi had never knew existed, and wasn't sure she wanted to know. It was private, hush-hush, like dealing with ONI but much more trivial. Every human inconvenience was taken care of, every whim or desire.

She'd asked Doctor Halsey once what Heaven was. The woman had replied that it was whatever she wanted it to be—the place she felt most content, most safe. And now Naomi was getting a glimpse of civilian Nirvana, a place of bliss created by shocking amounts of money. It was not her definition of Heaven by any stretch, but she was content for the time being to visit another's.

And within this stranger's Promised Land, they owned the top floor of the hotel for three weeks.

"This couch is better than sex," Mal groaned, flopping over the side of it and dangling his feet over the back. "And did you see the bar? I've never seen so much alcohol."

The suite was large. It spanned across the whole top floor, and they even had a private elevator. Vaz had been doubtful at first, wary of her spending so much money, but she'd quieted his fears. She'd be in service for many more years to come, and judging by the deposit amounts in her account each month, she'd make it back relatively quickly.

Her ODST seemed to have no more doubts on that score when he finally saw the place they'd be staying in. With an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm, he explored the suite with his friend, revelling in all the things money could buy. They seemed particularly fixated on the kitchen, which had not one, but two fully stocked fridges, in addition to a beer fridge, as well as every other household appliance and a few others she'd never seen or heard of.

"Why would people ever leave their homes?" Vaz asked, opening up the left fridge. "There's fully made meals in here—you just have to heat them up."

"Did you see the floor plan of this place? Two indoor pools." Mal grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it with the corner of the datapad he was holding and took a swig. "I'm so glad I stuck around you two. Naomi, you should take leave more often."

She smiled. "We need to call Dev and Phillips. They'll never forgive us if we don't invite them. And aren't there eight bedrooms in this place anyway? We'll have more than enough room."

"Only seven, unfortunately," Mal answered, scrolling through the minimap of the suite. "But I'm sure we'll survive. Christ," he added. "This place is so large we could go to opposite corners and never see one another. Fuck, they have a goddamn mini bowling alley in here. I haven't even seen that yet."

"I've never gotten alkanit in a rich man's wet dream before," Vaz observed. He too grabbed a drink from the fridge, a darker frothy beer she'd seen him drink before and didn't like the taste of—although on his lips it wasn't so bad—and took a generous drink. He raised his can in the air, and Mal did the same without looking away from the floor plan. "Na Zdrovie."

"Nostrovia," Mal answered, taking another pull on his beer. He settled his arms against the counter and looked up at Naomi. "And what can I get you, gorgeous?"

She suppressed a blush at the comment. "I… don't know. I don't really like the taste of alcohol."

"Come on, everyone likes something."

Vaz somehow downed the rest of his beer in one go and grabbed another. "What about vodka?"

"It's made from potatoes. You mash potatoes, you don't drink them. No," Mal answered. "You drink the shit they make out of grain. Much better."

"I don't like beer that much," Naomi said carefully. Both of them were staring at her now, having taken the task of finding her perfect drink very seriously. "And vodka isn't that nice, either." Vaz made a face and she smiled. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Not at all, solnishko. There are a lot of ways to get drunk." He took another pull. Binge drinking seemed to be their preference tonight. She had a feeling she'd be putting them both to bed if they didn't pass out on a couch.

"You like sweet stuff?" Mal asked. "What about margaritas?"

"Pfff—"

"Shut up for a minute," he said to the russian. He peered down the neck of his beer. "There's nothing wrong with them. You don't seem to like sour stuff."

"Dev said I should try tequila," she replied. It sounded sweet, at least.

"Hell no," Mal said. "That shit is insane. You'll get smashed, and not in a good way. Don't listen to Cantonese women anyway; they're all crazy."

"That's racist," Vaz interjected. He leaned against the counter and cracked another beer. If she took her eyes off him he'd have more empties piled up in no time.

"Not if it's true. I've slept with one before."

Vaz frowned. "Oh, that—that army woman you met when we were dropping on Imber—"

"Yeah, that one. Daiyu. Chick was insane, and didn't do well on ships, either. Nice tits, though."

Naomi cleared her throat and they both looked at her. "You were saying?"

"Oh, yeah." Mal dug around in the fridge for a minute and came up with a pink bottle. "Try that. You'll be able to satisfy your russian bloke, and it's sweet."

She read the label. "I said I don't like vodk—"

"Yeah, but it's got all kinds of other shit in it. Tastes like strawberries."

"I've never had strawberries."

"Well they taste good. Go on."

She unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. It smelled like whipped fruit, and she took a sip.

"Oh," she hummed, surprised. "That does taste good!"

"Look at that Vaz, your girlfriend likes coolers." Mal, satisfied with completing his task, went back to his drink.

"Is that good?" she asked.

"You're fitting the stereotype. If Vaz is into partying lightweight white girls, then sure." He took a swig. "Could be worse."

She sat down on the bar stool and took a bigger sip. It was really good. It tasted like dessert in a bottle. She decided to ignore what Mal said and enjoyed her drink. It didn't even taste like booze.

She watched the two ODSTs on the other side of the counter slowly wrack up empty drinks beside them. For the most part she was content to watch and listen to them talk, with both of their accents growing more and more pronounced every time they took a drink. With several cans of beer in each of them, the sound of rolling syllables and hard consonants filled the room.

When she reached the bottom of her cooler she frowned, not having remembered finishing it. It had been so good, so she pushed off the stool and went to grab another. Except instead of sliding out of her chair with her usual unconscious grace, she stumbled and caught the edge of the counter. Both men abruptly stopped talking and looked at her.

"Jesus, really, Naomi?"

She blinked hard and swallowed. She felt dizzy. "Am I drunk?"

"Some-fucking-how," Mal answered. "After one drink. I think that's a first in the Navy. Or anywhere, for that matter."

She stood easily enough on her own, but each movement was exaggerated, and everything was slightly blurred, almost to the point of being below notice. But it was enough to make her feel like she'd hit her head or stood too close to mortar fire.

She turned to look at Mal and felt her head buzz, like pins and needles in her brain. "This is horrible." It was already disconcerting, the slight loss of balance and a dimmed perception, and she'd only had one drink. Why did people like it so much?

"Drink more," he said, and slid her a second cooler. "You'll feel better."

"This one's a different colour," she replied, frowning at the yellow bottle.

"It's pineapple, I think. Or Hawaiian punch. Same deal." He finished his—fifth, she counted—beer. "Okay, Naomi. Next step in losing your alcoholic virginity."

"What now?" She took a sip of the yellow one. Maybe it wasn't so bad. She liked this one, too.

"A drinking game," he said, with exaggerated solemnity. "We'll start with one that doesn't need any setup. Speaking ones are more fun anyway."

"Setup?"

"Cards or dice or whatever. Plus after all the money you spent on this bloody place I don't feel like gambling at the moment."

"How about I Went to the Brothel?" Vaz said.

She frowned, already wary at the name of the game. "How do you play?"

"It's easy. I start by saying I went to the brothel and brought… an assplug, for example, and then you repeat what I said and add a word that starts with B. We go down the alphabet and whoever fucks up the order or forgets has to drink and the next person goes. The trick is you have to name something dirty, though. It's the adult version of picnic."

She wasn't entirely confident in her ability to rhyme off lewd words or repeat them out loud, but the pair of them seemed intent on finding another reason to drink. If nothing else, she enjoyed the idea of competition, even for something so ludicrous. "Okay," she said uncertainly. "I don't know a lot of dirty words though."

Mal shrugged. "Just think of any time you ever talked to a marine. They say a lot of vulgar shit." He nudged Vaz. "Go. I started it up, so do B."

"I went to the brothel and brought an ass plug and a barhotka." He went to take a drink and then frowned, remembering the rules, then shrugged and took a drink anyway.

"How many times do I have to say no bloody russian? What does that even mean, anyway?"

"Look it up." He looked at Naomi. "Your turn."

Her face turned red. She was conditioned to live through a number of excruciating situations, but she'd never learned the art of being crass on purpose. Until a few weeks ago, her mind hadn't even been on anything remotely related to sex or whatever perverted things they were coming up with.

"Um… I went to a brothel and brought an… an ass—ass plug and a bohrt-ka," she stumbled, cheeks hot, and saw Vaz bite his lip to keep from laughing. "And…." Oh god, what the hell started with the letter C that was rude? Carrier? No. Command? No. Cyclops…? She searched her brain, trying to remember every conversation she'd overheard from soldiers, every lewd thing she'd heard the ODSTs say—which was a lot—and finally came up with an answer that she was fairly proud of, even if she didn't entirely understand it. "And a cucumber."

There was a beat of dead silence before the both of them reacted. Mal shot beer from his nose, apparently not expecting much from her, and she heard Vaz wheeze out drunken laughter. She smiled into her drink, blushing furiously, and took a congratulatory sip.

"Oh—my fucking—god Naomi," Mal coughed after a moment of harsh snorting, wiping his face. "That—"

"I never thought," Vaz began. "I never thought I'd hear any of those words ever come out of your mouth."

"That was good?"

"That was bloody brilliant," Mal replied. "This game just got a hundred times more fucking funny." He blew out a breath and steadied himself on the counter, trying to remain serious. "Okay… woo, okay. My turn. I went to a brothel and brought…."

It was probably a good thing that Dev and Phillips weren't with them that night. Adding another ODST into the alcoholic mix would've spelled disaster. There was a large pool of beer on the kitchen floor, which extended to the counters and even reaching parts of the ceiling when Vaz dove over the kitchen island and tackled Mal to the ground for—for what, she couldn't entirely remember. Whatever it had been, they'd both been arguing about it. It'd been difficult to understand either of them at that point, anyway.

She'd consumed four coolers, which was enough to make her head spin whenever she moved and made it difficult to walk without grabbing onto something. The ODSTs had ingested triple of what she'd drank, and seemed only slightly worse for wear. There wasn't any significant property damage though, besides a broken bar stool leg, and she counted that as a plus.

Mal stumbled into a guest bedroom around noon New Nairobi time—they really had to get turned around—and she felt tired herself. She and Vaz leaned on each other for support, guiding one another slowly to the master bedroom. She was too fuzzy in the head to appreciate the size and elegance of the room, her brain focused solely on moving towards the massive comfy-looking bed.

They sat down on the mattress and Vaz let himself fall back, his legs dangling off the edge. He muttered something in russian that she didn't quite catch, but it sounded content and mildly slurred.

He placed a hand on her hip, and she looked over her shoulder at him. "You know," he murmured. "I think I am liking when you talk dirty."

She raised a brow. To the annoyance of Mal and the amusement of her, he'd said several more horrible things in his native tongue during their drinking game. "Oh really? Me saying nasty things in russian that I don't understand is a turn-on?"

"Da," he replied. His hand slipped under her shirt and up her back, and she shivered at his warm palm on her skin. "You are even more beautiful when you are buhoj. Your skin is rosy and warm." He hummed and sat up—with some difficulty—and brushed her hair away from her neck. "Softer, too."

She smiled. He was always more quiet and sappy with her when he had a few drinks in him. He kissed her throat and slid his other hand up her stomach, grabbing for her breast. Definitely more affectionate, too.

Naomi leaned into him, running a hand up his thigh. Although she didn't enjoy the lack of control or coordination she currently felt, being drunk certainly heightened the excitement of having his hands on her skin. It was more natural, less shy and timid.

She fumbled to unclasp his belt from her position, trying to focus her attention on undressing and not that he was skimming his mouth over her skin. When she got the buckle undone and pulled the zipper down on his jeans, he pushed her roughly onto the bed and straddled her. He was far less gentle than he usually was, and she found it exhilarating. He was less in control, and she glimpsed a truer picture of just how hot and bothered he got when he was with her.

She struggled to pull his jeans down while he tugged her own off, kicking them away with a drunken graceless determination that made her laugh, which quickly turned to a moan when he slid his fingers between her legs.

"Ah," he hummed into her throat. "You are so warm and mokry."

She managed to push all of his restrictive clothing down around his knees, less experienced with drunken encounters, and he took no further action to get undressed beyond that. He quickly sank into her and they both groaned.

It was different this time. He was rough, and moved with a desperation she'd never felt in him before. It aroused her to no end, and they reached the peak of their coupling in no time, pressed flush together, skin dewed with sweat and hot to the touch. He moaned into her neck, flexing his hips shakily between her legs, which she'd firmly latched onto his back. She felt her body squeeze and contract around him, and she pressed her lips into his hair, forcing out harsh breath.

He collapsed heavily onto her, his head resting on her collarbone. She let out a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him, moving them unsteadily towards the head of the mattress. She laid down next to him and pulled up the blankets, covering their half-naked bodies in soft sheets and fully removing his jeans from his legs. Naomi snuggled up to him, tucking her head under his chin, and spent the first full night asleep next to him. She smiled, content beyond words, knowing that they could do this every night for three weeks, and he'd be there beside her when she woke up.

Mal was right. She should take more leave time.

Not because of the luxury of the suite they were staying in, or the rich food and lack of schedule. They were all nice, but they were things she had easily lived without and could do so again.

Sleeping with Vaz in bed for a full eight hours and waking up next to him, however, she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

She woke up before he did, and for the first time in her life she didn't immediately get out of bed and get dressed. Instead she stretched, arching off the sheets and grinning when her feet didn't slip off the end of the mattress. The sun hit her skin, warming her bare body enough to make her feel sleepy. The sun hung low in the sky, deep evening now in the city. Naked, in bed with another person, lazing around, she thought. It was a day of many firsts. As had the night before been. She had a small headache that ran across her forehead, but apart from that and a general grogginess, she felt none the worse. Naomi wondered how Vaz and Mal would fare when they woke up.

Another first was the odd soreness between her legs. It felt like a cross between muscle soreness and menstrual cramps that was not entirely unpleasant. If anything, it made her want more. She'd felt it somewhat after being with him on Infinity, but hadn't taken the time to appreciate the unique feeling of aching muscles.

She looked over at Vaz. When ODSTs slept, they really slept. He was dead to the world, his short dark hair mussed from the pillow—and from last night, she thought with a blush—and the lines of his face were relaxed and smooth. He looked so much younger, even if the scar running down his jaw pulled at his skin and distorted his cheek. It looked almost out of place on his peaceful expression.

She found it fascinating. Naomi had never seen him so calm, or so still. He was entirely vulnerable and totally trusting of her. This wasn't a quick nap he caught before a drop or in between shifts—he was truly sleeping, and it was something only she could see right now.

Naomi shifted closer to him and tucked her head under his, curling into him. Her leg wrapped around his and she settled into him. His body felt different in sleep, too. Not quite as hard, his muscles fully relaxed in slumber.

Well. Maybe not all of him, she amended as her leg brushed his member. Naomi had learned a valuable tidbit of information about the male anatomy—they got erections for a multitude of reasons, especially in the morning, and not just for sex. She wondered if it was ever uncomfortable, since it looked that way.

She took a peek at his face, still blissfully unconscious. She placed a kiss on his neck and slid her fingers under the covers. The soft hairs of his abdomen tickled her palm as she tracked it down his body, a trail that lead towards her ultimate goal.

She wrapped her fingers around him and she felt his body tense for a moment before relaxing again. It was assuredly the oddest part of him; the skin was soft and incredibly sensitive, but felt harder than muscle or bone. It seemed unwieldy, but he most certainly knew what to do with it. She felt her cheeks grow pink and ran her hand up the length of him.

He stiffened again, and murmured something incoherent. She continued her ministrations, kissing his neck and shoulder. It was calm, and slow, and she heard his breathing slowly climb and his heart beat harder.

She ran her other hand through his hair, enjoying the thickness of it. He'd need to cut it soon, but for now it was a lovely place to hold on to him when they made love. A moan escaped him, low in his throat, and his hips quickly began to roll in time with her hand. His body seemed to be waking up, tensing and twitching as she continued to smooth her hand over his member.

Naomi propped herself up on one arm, lying across his body and not easing up in the movement of her hand. She watched his eyes flutter open and he rolled toward her, his breathing harsh.

"Solnishko—" he murmured, and moaned into her breast. "Bly—ah…"

He continued to rasp out more russian expletives, occasionally murmuring her name, until his entire body tensed and she felt his release make itself known on her thigh. She gave a few parting strokes before kissing his shoulder and finally retracting her hand, and he buried his face in her hair.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling when she heard him laugh into her hair.

"Dobroye utro," he replied. "God, Naomi…." He pulled away and kissed her. "You should drink more often, hm?"

She smiled. "It's not the alcohol's fault," she teased, kissing him back. "I just like to touch you."

"Mmmm," he hummed, pressing his lips along her jaw. "I like waking up next to you."

"So do I." He pulled her down on top of him and they simply kissed for a few moments, warm and slightly sweaty. The softness of it was a stark contrast to the night before, but she enjoyed this tenderness just as much, if not more.

He pulled away after a moment and smoothed a thumb over her cheek. "How about a shower to clean up?"

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed, sitting up. "And coffee after."

"Da."

The shower was big enough for four, a big glass monstrosity that had a giant shower head directly overhead and a smaller, detachable one. When she stepped inside with Vaz and kissed him beneath the steamy spray, she began to wonder if she had in fact slipped into some slice of her own personal Heaven.