Sacrificial Sock
A little Joker goodness, cuz Feros is kicking my ass. This is shoooort, but a nice reprieve from the violence of the next chapter. Enjoy.
"What the hell?" The feminine shriek carried across the crew quarters and echoed into the mess. A stream of very unfeminine obscenities followed. "That's disgusting, Moreau!"
Joker only grinned at the Gunnery Chief's shrill voice from across the crew deck as he imagined her look of horrified disbelief as it morphed into something more…feral. Someone found the cruise sock. Wasn't his. No, his was stored safely in his locker. Wasn't quite stiff yet. He had no idea whose sock that was. A treat found during XO's Happy Hour. But he thought he'd be nice and share. Williams did hot bunk with him after all. And she got mad so easily. Ah, MaRINEs: Muscles are Required, Intelligence Not Essential.
"Only thinking of you, babe," he shouted over his dinner and through the bulkhead that separated the mess and the crew's quarters. She swore at him some more, her angry stomping bringing her closer to the mess. Something decidedly wet smacked up against the bulkhead. He half expected her to enter the mess and punch him and was slightly disappointed when he heard her stalk off, followed by the grating sound of a sleeper pod being activated. He wondered idly if she slept in her boots.
Kinky.
Alenko eyed him warily from across the table. "Do I want to know?" he asked as poked at what appeared to be road apples, though he couldn't be sure. The meat identifier had already been eaten by the time Joker had managed to get to the galley, fix his chow and then have a seat at the mess table. He was sure Alenko's food had gone cold by now. They had been sitting there a while. He knew how much the man hated eating in front of anyone—which is why he sat directly in front of him. Exploit the weakness.
His grin broadened, opened his mouth to speak. He wondered how long he could go before Alenko got grossed out enough to leave. Going for the record.
"Forget it," Alenko said giving him a cold glare. He took a tentative bite of gray meat and started to chew. Joker ate his shit-on-a-shingle in silence wondering why he had chosen creamed chipped beef on toast to begin with, waiting until the time presented itself before elaborating on his fun with the Chief. Alenko had just relaxed enough to shovel a few bites into his mouth before Joker spoke.
"Cruise sock."
Alenko choked briefly on his—that is Swedish Meatballs isn't it—before looking at Joker incredulously, his eyebrows high. "You didn't."
"Not mine." The pilot shrugged at the Lieutenant's bug-eyed look. He snorted and leaned back in his chair. "Mine's in my locker."
"TMI, Moreau." Well, someone's panties are in a twist today.
He looked at his nails smugly. "Found it during Cleaning Stations," he elaborated just for the hell of it. Then batted his eyelashes at Alenko playfully. "Guess someone's missing a friend."
Alenko shook his head. "The images you put in my head."
"Sexy beast, aren't I?"
Disgusted, Alenko stood, glowering down at the pilot. He grabbed his food and walked off.
Record time.
Joker frowned. Now he had no one to talk to but his shit-on-a-shingle.
NAVspeak Definitions (US only – I think):
Cleaning Stations/XO Happy Hour: the designated time on the ship where everyone cleans their watch/duty stations or break out the swabs, usually ordered by the XO or CMC or another Occifer
Cruise Sock/Sacrificial Sock:the sock that is "sacrificed" during a long tour for cleaning up after masturbation; usually stiff by the end of the tour; has a tendency to be found in... odd places where dumped around the ship. Wash, rinse, repeat. Kthxbye.
Meat identifier: the side dish served with the main entree; usually the only way to tell what's being served.