It All Started With Magnets

.26.

My arms felt like noodles as I scrubbed at the last big pot in the dish pit. I felt sweaty and gross and I had no one to blame but myself. After my lecture, and it had been a lecture, one that lasted until well after the vehicle had stopped. Hollister had told me I was to get my ass into the canteen dish pit and start scrubbing.

So I had been.

For the last four hours.

Which was lovely. Then again, I had no one to blame but myself but I was finding that it was more than worth it to see that pompous, rat bastard's face change colours like it had every time I opened my mouth. I hadn't defended myself during Hollister's tirade, which I knew would have made it worse, so I didn't say anything. That was despite the fact it had been the pissant's fault. That the weak willed man pulling a raiders of the lost ark impression with how badly his face was drooping, had came right out of the gate being an unmitigated asshole for literally zero reason. The phrase, 'don't start none, won't be none' came to my mind quite a bit as Hollister ranted at me about protocol.

I kept my mouth shut though because I might have been stupid in regards to military culture but I wasn't 'back sass your commanding officer in the middle of him yelling at you' stupid. Which made me feel a little better, at least that was what I was currently telling myself as I scrubbed the potato residue off the last giant ass pot in my sink. My hair was flopping in my face and it was irritating the shit out of me but I didn't want to stop and take the time to redo the bun because I was so close to being finished with all the dishes. I wanted to get them finished and have it be done with.

Hudson was leaning against the wall, just casually watching me. Which I felt super bad for him. I might have been the one scrubbing dishes but he was the one who had to stand there and watch me do it. At least he had been out of his get-up and looked less intimidating. Which was nice. I didn't know what I would have done if he had been staring at me fully suited up and looking like he could break me like a fucking twig with one order from his commanding officer.

"Sorry about this." I glanced at him as I said it, lifting the pot up and checking the inside for anymore residue. The last thing I wanted was Hollister coming back in and dumping the pot back into the sink for me to scrub again. Cause he had done that already... twice.

"Why? I'm not the one manning the scrub daddy." There was a small smidge, a tiny, tiny smidge of humor to his voice that made me want to smile but my arms and my shoulders hurt and I was so tired I wasn't sure I had the energy. Then again the scrubbing had made me feel better. Four hours of just mindless work where I didn't have to think about fucking intergalactic relations up? Yes please!

"Yah but you had to watch me do it. Has to be boring as all hell." I swiped my hand along the inside of the pot, finding another bit of residue and attacking it with the sponge.

"More interesting than boring. Do you know how much shit an actual Captain would have been in for saying half the shit you did to Lawrence?" He crossed his arms over his chest as he said it and I finished up with the pot.

I glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow as I rinsed the pot out. "Court martialled?"

"More like immediate disciplinary hearing, knocked back several ranks, and serious and permanent black mark on their record." The explanation had me giving a slightly impressed look at the fact my only punishment was dish duty. "The move you pulled is a certified career killer."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not looking to rise up the ranks." I said it as chipper as I could as I turned the pot upside down on the rack. "I didn't call him a fuckwit though." I pointed it out as I turned to look at Hudson fully, drying my pruny hands with the cloth apron I was wearing around my waist.