PWD #11: An Hour Of Free Time (PG-13)
An Hour Of Free Time (PG-13)
Summary: Lennox and Noble have a tryst. An awkward, noncommittal, and nearly accidental tryst.
Date: 24/12/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Noble Lennox 
Laundry - Battlestar Orion
Aboard a battlestar everyone except Command Staff does their own laundry, from ranking officers down to the lowest enlisted. This is one of many rooms just like this throughout the ship, and each one is nearly identical. There are baskets for holding clothes when they are pulled from the dryer and long tables for folding that run down the center of the room. Chairs sit along one wall and some magazines are stacked on a small book shelf near the door.
Dec 24, 2012

Another day, another dollar, another shift.

It's late night again on the Battlestar Orion and Simon Noble has yet again been denied access to the video game console in the Rec Room. With nothing else to do, the red-headed marine decides to gather up his large bag full of dirty clothes and throw it over his shoulder as if it was full of presents. With a boot to the door, he clambers into the Laundry and makes his way to the corner of the room.

"Frak you…Frak you…Frak this…" Noble grunts to each washer, loading up all three of them with a collection of clothes, boxer briefs, tee shirts, and socks in no particular matched order. With a sand-papery twist of the dials on the laundry machines, he gets them all started and then turns to sit in a chair. The chair is in the middle of one of the rows with no table, nothing to put his feet on. He sits, tilts his head to the ceiling, and closes his eyes. "Frak…this…shit."

Yeah, another day, another shift, another load of dirty panties.

They need more vid consoles down there. Always busy with the bored fingers of sailors unable to otherwise occupy their digits. Lola wouldn't know. She's a pilot, and has no such issues. Leave it to marines. She's just come from a series of errands including a visit to sickbay, but is nonetheless cheerful enough as she wrestles a pillowcase stuffed full of laundry into the facility via the hatch.

"Holy spit, man." Lola comes up short as she rolls in on Noble verbally assaulting the machinery. "You got a hate on for detergents?" She continues in as he moved down to take a seat, and she thumps her pillowcase down on one of his washers, then finds a still/off one to peep into. Sometimes they still have stuff in them, you know. "Wow." Thump. She closes that one and moves down. The lid comes up, she peers in, then upends her pillowcase and unceremoniously dumps everything into one washer. The case is tossed in last. Thump.

"No. I don't hate detergents. It's not the detergents that I hate." Noble's voice is strained by the stress he places on his windpipe by the backwards lean of his head. He lets out a tired, little sigh and moves his hands to rest on the part of the folding chair's frame that has a pair of posts that connect the backrest. "I just find it ridiculous that I'm trained to throw grenades, frak, you're a pilot. You're trusted with machinery worth millions of cubits, right? Yet here we are doing laundry. It's stupid. If I could afford to pay someone to do this shit I would."

Lola hops up to the edge of one of the machines that's not moving. She doesn't come in here for that, thanks. She just likes a higher vantage point, and the washer serve that purpose. "You pay me in smokes, I'll do your laundry." She grins. He probably just witnessed her method of dump and go. She doesn't sort. She just throws everything into the belly of the beast with a pellet of detergent, all crammed willy nilly into a portable bag that can then also be washed. Sorting's for pussies. "But it'll cost ya at least two packs a week." She crinkles a packet of sugared orange slice candies out of her pocket, and noisily crinkle-crunches it open. Then crinkle reaches inside and crinkles one out and shoves it into her mouth. "Wahh wah?" Want one, for those who don't speak candy-mouth.

"Done. Frak it. I'll at least let it go for a week or two. I've got plenty of smokes stowed away in my stash." He replies, idly fishing for a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. She had to say the magic word, and now he wants a cigarette.

He lowers his head and rises from his seat, stepping over to Lola. As he walks, he slips a cigarette into his lip and lights it, and then thumbs one cigarette with its filter pointed out towards Lola. It's an offering, as is the flame that he's holding up for her. Puff-Puff-Drag, and he reaches out to snatch one of the orange slice candies from her.

"Do we care that this smoke is probably seeping into all of the filters in the dryer machines and is gonna make everyone else's clothes smell like cigarettes?" Noble asks. "Oh, and what's up, toastbucket? I haven't seen Milkshake around. She hiding from me? I gots a favor to call in."

Lola grins. Yeah, she has a bunch of smokes in storage for the eighteen month haul, but it never hurts to squirrel away more from whatever source she can find them. There may come a day when she has to trade them back, and frankly the young lady has a certain minimum amount of fumarella she needs to live. "Deal." Since she figures he's seen her methods, he should know what to expect, and thusly she's free of blame for any loss or damage. Or, you know, color seepage of clothing.

"Aw, thanks, Pong." The blonde takes the cig as it's offered over, scissoring it between index and middle finger, leaning in to lip it into the corner of her mouth, still with gummi orange candy bits to chew. She glances up and around as he mentions the bit about the smoke, filters, and stank ass cigarette smell on everyone's clothes. "Mmm. Nah."

Lola grins. "She doesn't think crap through all the time 'fore she does it. I dunno, maybe she's in lurve again, and we won't see her till she comes up for a new lurve. You decided what you want to dare?"

Noble gives a negatory shake of his head and takes a step back from Lola. Though not too far away, he's definitely hanging around within kicking distance. "No. I haven't decided. I'm still trying to decide what's creepy, what's out of line, that sort of thing. I don't want to put you girls through total hell for this, but at the same time whatever I pick for each of you is gonna make you want to get one back on me. That way this game keeps going on and everyone wins."

He pauses for a drag off of the cigarette and then reaches out, nudging her knee. "What about you, Lola? Anything come to your mind yet?"

"Yeah, it's hard to know exactly what's out of line and what's in, cause it all really depends on who might find out," Lola hmms. "And when." She shrugs. "I mean, we're ensigns, so there's not a lot we'd willingly do that's get us booted. And besides, don't be chicken poop."

Lola glances up, "You, um." She grabs up three or four orange candies. "Didn't mean sexual favors, right?" Because that would definitely be illegal. She crams the candies into her mouth. Could be a defensive mechanism in case he asks her an embarrassing question right back. Mouth full, can't answer right off. Ha.

The cherry at the end of Noble's cigarette flares as he takes another drag. The smoke first exhales through his nostrils and then he finishes it up by blowing the fumes to the side, eyes on Lola. "Not humiliating and nothing that would put your career in immediate jeopardy. Those were the terms. I don't see why those would be off the table."

Glancing towards the door, Noble considers the privacy of the room and just how much the loud laundry machines are obfuscating their conversation. With no sign of movement from the rest of the room, he turns back to Lola and scratches his sideburn right over his temple. His lip pulls slowly to the side. "It could be arranged."

Fingers comb through her bangs as she does her best to straighten them. She's always doing that, because they're always going awry. The cig in her mouth bounces as she chews, having long ago mastered the art of doing just about anything while also balancing a cigarette. That is the level to which she's devoted herself to the smokable leaf.

Lola watches that whole reply from Noble — the meandering, thoughtful way of it all, and obviously thinks he's going to say something else, because she opens her mouth to make a reply, but her mouth's too full of candy. "Hoo amah anties?" Long lashed eyes widen, and she eyeshifts at the door as well.

"Hoo amah anties?" Noble asks, clarifying in her own language right back to her. It's always best to paraphrase, or ask clarifying questions when dealing with someone with a bizarre accent. He follows her long, dark lashes back to the door, and then to her face again. He pops the orange candy in his mouth and holds his cigarette to the side, ashing his cigarette on the floor. Screw em.

"Ahs sayn…" Noble starts, switching to her language, which is no language at all. "…daresadaren' ain gaw shigoin on f'like an hour." He pauses, chews, and swallows the candy, switching back to the cigarette. The cherry flares as he takes another drag, watching her reaction.

It's like watching a baby camel try to make short work of grain or something. The girl must have a jaw to end all jaws for how often she's gnawing on candy, gum, or food. As Noble says something back to her, she ehs. "What?" Lola squints, finally swallowing the last of a truly epic handful of candies that gummed up her speech. She presses her lips together, then smokes once she's swallowed the orange flavored chewies. Like she didn't just say something unintelligible to him first. "What shit's going on in an hour?"

Blink. Blink. Blink.

For the first time, Noble isn't quite sure what to say, and is greeted by the sudden realization that he's not entirely sure whether or not this conversation has gone from creepy, to awkward, or some mix of both. The tall, red-headed marine chews the side of his lip and drums his fingers against the side of his off-duty fatigues. His head tilts from side-to-side, ending in the inward take of a long breath to clear his lungs. He steps closer, so that his side brushes against her knee, taking up a little more of her personal space. His head lowers, the back of his hand hooding over his cigarette as he takes a drag. "I don't have anything going on in an hour. You?"

Lola's eyes come up from her bag of orange, sugar sprinkled treats. It crinkles a little as the hand holding it tightens just a bit. She looks up at the marine, long lashes shading amber eyes in a glance that might be a little bit coy, if not for the flush that slowly, subtly floods pink into her cheeks, and all the way up to the tips of her ears. The long fringe of blonde bangs hangs just into her eyes. Despite her friend Milkshake's ride 'em if they're turgid kind of attitude, Lola doesn't Yee to the Haaaw and jump on for the ride. She just kind of stares at him with her lips slightly parted.

She's not answering his questions. The closeness that he's standing to the Ensign alone is likely breaking regs, and Noble is forced to glance down towards that bag of orange, gummy candies in her hand. With a quiet flick, he ashes his cigarette towards the floor and traces the features of her face. Almost hesitant, his eyelid over his left eye gives a little, tension-filled twice before he steps in the rest of the way. Holding his cigarette to the side, away from her, he places a hand on her knee and leans in to press his lips to hers.

CRUNCH. Lola's fist closes on that bag of gummi candies like she's a Scooby Doo villain, and the orange slides are those darn kids. There's a little hiccup of breath sucked in in the space between Noble's lean in and the press of naked lip to naked lip. Oh dang. Her cigarette, meanwhile, drops lit between them, tumbling over the edge of the washer to smack into the floor still smoking. Frak, frak. Gentle kissy suction engages for three, two, one. Didn't someone bet? Wasn't someone supposed to call in a bet favor for this kind of dealio? Her hands come up, the orange slices hit the deck after the smoke, and she flails them a little, as if unsure of what to do. Grab him and hold on? Shove him off?

Ohmergerd. The second, like, the absolute second she feels tongue, because there's always tongue when you're kissing marines, right? — anyway, the second she feels tongue, she breaks away with a suction-POP and says, "No kissing! Kissing is full of feelings!" Hey, how did her hand get on his ass. She must have done that in all the tongue-panic. She removes it from right butt cheek.

Like Lennox, Noble loses track of everything, save for the fact that he can't burn himself with the cigarette in his hand. To take care of that, he holds the cigarette out as far as he can out into no-man's land where he's sure there's nothing but empty space and tile below. In the meantime, he presses himself up against Lennox's body and lets her hand to his backside tug him in tight.

When she breaks the kiss, his face leans to the side to catch his breath. The words, those damned words make him laugh against her neck, and in response he flicks the cigarette out into the room somewhere. There's no telling where it lands, and the newly freed hand finds the back of her neck, weaving his fingers through the hair at the small of her neck. He laughs softly again, and then kisses her jaw, cradling in against her. "Understood…"

Lola's taste buds are full of sugar and orange and cigarettes and kiss — no. No kisses. She leans against Noble, breathing in the scent of spacefaring marine. Geez, no wonder Ygraine disappears into the night over by the motorpool. Her hands come in contact with his sides, slide down an inch, then steeple off. She walks down his body with her fingers, like little marching soldiers, and doesn't palm his body until she hits hip. Double handfuls of butt. She grips, then shoves her body forward to slide off of the washer, going full body press until her feet touch the floor. Wedged between marine and machine, she says, "I have to go shower."

With lips to her young, pale neck, Noble leans back just enough for her to slide down the front of the washing machine. Now it's his time to disconnect from her skin with a quiet POP of suction, suddenly broken from her by her downward motion and his much taller height. His fingers thread through her hair, tracing down the back of her neck and over her shoulder, freeing her from his grip. He taps the side of her dog tags with the tip of his index finger, looking down and trying to catch her eyes through her bangs.

He takes a step away from her, but one of his fingers is caught in her belt buckle, tugging her with him towards the door. "Do you?"

"Uh-huh," Lola replies, though her eyes may be mostly closed. She tips back a little, like she's lost her center of gravity for just a moment, and maybe she has. Kisses in the laundry room put her all off-balance. And the finger in the buckle, oh crap. Her lashes flutter and her eyes slip open. She looks right up at Noble through that veil of fine gold hair, gaze meeting his and holding. "… Hey." Awareness straightens her spine, finally, and the lingering tingle from that long body-brush leaves a hyper-awareness in its wake. Still, her brain finally catches up to the rest of her. "You didn't call in your thingie. And neither did I." She reaches down to grab his hand, but first shoves it down, fingers pressing low onto her belly, before she reverses the grip and drags it up.R

Holding onto his hand, Lola keeps that eye contact. "I can't make out with you in the laundry." She tosses her head, flicking long bangs out of her eyes. She brings his hand to her lips, and brushes a light kiss over the knuckles. "Because… Because." Her grip on his hand tightens, and she takes a step back. The flush has taken hold full force, and her cheeks are bright pink. She takes a breath, just on the edge of a full on ensign flee.

She's greedy with his hand, which is something Noble fulfills as his hands gather the entire experience of being dragged up and down her body. The lusty looks, the heavy breathing, and the look in her eyes when she presses a kiss to his knuckles brings the marine to bite down on the side of his lip. His eyes narrow slyly, filled with confidence, and when she protests he steps in and reaches for her chin. Once more, despite her protests, he tilts her lips to his for a long, greed-ridden kiss with just a little more tongue than she had before.

He breaks the kiss…he looks down to her eyes…

The spray of water coming from the showerhead angles directly into Noble's eye, narrowing suddenly to trap the water within and try to work it out from behind the lid. Shower? What Shower? He'd barely had enough time to hop out of his boots before he and Lennox were tumbling into the shower stall, and as he tugs his tank tops up and over his head and throws them into a wet heap in the corner of the stall he completely forgets that neither of them had yet to bring up who was daring who to this. Dog tags jingling and belts fumbling, Noble locks his lips to hers and presses her up against the tile wall of the cell.

"Hephaestus' nubbly bits!" Lola gasps into the spray, words barely audible over a whisper. "Haven't even been here thirty days." She grabs a reverse hold of Noble's water-slicked shoulders, elbows tucked against his ribs. "Ow." Her back jams into a pipe. "Ow." His compensation smacks a spigot into her elbow. "Ow, flippin' ow." Thump, clank, clatter, sproing. Wait, one of those things doesn't belong. OR DOES IT?

Some time later: "You got any dental floss? Got candy stuck in my teeth."

Noble, bruised, battered, and hanging on with a death grip to the neck of the shower faucet, he looks down the plane of their bodies to the absolute mess of exchanged clothing on the floor. Each and every bit of it soaked by the shower, which is quickly going cold. His lips part in a throaty laugh, lungs still fighting to catch up with his shortness of breath. "Dental floss? W—yeah it's in my boots. Frak…" He turns to see that one of his boots is in the shower with them. That's going to be uncomfortable.

Getting his last foot underneath him, he lets go of the showerhead and pulls himself up to her full height, steadying her against the wall. Now there's…an awkward moment. He smoothes a soggy lock of her blonde hair away from her cheek and gives her a quiet look with a hint of a co-conspirator's smile before glancing out into the Head proper. They're alone. "Well…we have…" He turns back to her, cocking a brow. "…more clothes to dry."

Lola, for her part, straightens what little bit is left of her clothing, which really doesn't do much since that's also soaked, and frankly all the straightening does is stretch it. She finally glances over to notice her boots, one of them, is also soaked. Oh, come on. Well, there's always the option of feeding Ygraine enough vodka that she won't remember those aren't her boots in the morning. Plan thusly made, Lola looks back up to Simon.

"Hm." She reaches up to pick a bit of candy from between her teeth. It's been driving her nuts for the last ten minutes at least. She reaches up to smack off the shower spray. She clears her throat. Then turns the shower back on to at least partially cover the sound of talking, just in case anyone walked in recently. She lifts a hand, and points at him. She points at him sternly. "I thought I told you," Lola narrows her eyes. Her next words are full of teacher voice, which is ad-libbed, since she's just barely out of Academy, "No. Kissing."

Getting a head start on dry boots, Noble looks back over his shoulder and kicks at the two boots in the shower, evicting them from the stall. They tumble out onto the tile floor with a splatter of old, wet shoelace smell. He looks down to his off-duty fatigue pants and frowns again. Everything he has is sopping wet. When he turns his head back, it's directly down the barrel of her finger that's pointed directly between his eyes.

Noble arches a brow at her come to Zeus attitude, scolding him. He can barely hold it. He beams back at her, holding his arms up as if to say I wasn't drinking, officer. "Hey, I didn't." It's a lie, they're both away of how much kissing there was. "I was just kissing back. Don't you point that finger at me, lady."

All offduties look pretty much the same, so there's no danger in either having possession of the other's. Particularly given the bet. "If anyone asks, the bet was laundry for three months, okay?" She skirts around him, pops open the door, and peers out. No-one seems to be in the immediate vicinity, but she does see a couple of neatly folded towels left on the clean stack. She scampers out to get those, and wraps one around herself before returning to chuck another over the stall with a little whistle. Towel to the face from above!

"What bet? This wasn't a bet." Noble replies, elbowing off the shower and immediately starting the ritual of drying off. He's got cigarettes somewhere in those pockets, and he suddenly finds himself hoping that he's left the plastic wrapper around enough of the pack to keep it from getting wet. Quickly, he dries his back and then wraps the towel around his hips, knotting it into place. He leans down and scoops up soaking wet fabric. "You wanna cash yours in for laundry for three months? Is that what you're saying?" He teashes, leaning out of the stall to search for her.

"No." Lola's cheeks pink again, now that she's wrapped up in a towel and her wet boots need looking after. She scoops them up and shoots a look at the stall. He can't see her face through the door, but she sounds irritated. "We will speak of this no more." She says that in an authoritative manner, born of officer's training.

About thirty seconds later, on her way out, she says, "Drink Friday. Pong, double or nothing."

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