Dirty Dancing
Dirty Dancing
Summary: Komnenos does his penance and cleans the Marine head, but Epi has other ideas.
Date: PHD089 (17 July 2009)
Related Logs: Of Tempers and Toothbrushes

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke and the heavy electronic sound of music drifts out of the Marine head. Anyone entering is greeted by an incongruous sight; a blond-haired man with lieutenant JG's pins and a Raptor patch on his sleeve scrubbing furiously at one of the toilets with a bedraggled toothbrush. His lips move as though he's grumbling to himself or singing along, but the music covers his voice, making it impossible to tell.

And into the head bounces one Corporal Epiphany Jarot. She pauses at the sound of the music, then gives an absolutely girly, utterly un-Marinelike squeal. "DANCE PARTY!"

Thorn finishes one toilet and moves on to the next, but not before doing a spin move and holding his toothbrush like a microphone, singing with a gravelly, accented voice. "I want t' be th' color in your life… an' you make love elec-" Epi's interjection catches him mid-spin, though, and he freezes, his toothbrush falling out of his hand and his face turning red as a cherry. He just gapes at the Marine corporal for a moment before he recovers. "Dammit, Shortstack," he mumbles, "y' don't just bust in on a man in the head like that."

The little woman laughs delightedly, bouncing around in her gym shorts and tanks, arms over her head. She's…dancing. Yes. Dancing. And while she's not horrible at it, it does look a little like she's having a seizure. "My head," she announces, grinning broadly at him.

"Yeah, well." Komnenos flushes again; the fact that she's right doesn't make it any less humiliating. At least it wasn't, say, Ashe or Dutch, right? He turns his attention back to the next toilet in line, scrubbing even more furiously than before- but not before quickly moving over to his little portable stereo and clicking it off.

There's a little sound of pure and utter horror. "No!" she wails, and darts for the player. "We need MORE music. Come on, please?" Yes, she wheedles. And she wheedles so cutely, too. Who'd have thought there'd be a Marine with big wide eyes of doom.

Thorn looks at her for a long moment, and with a sigh clicks the stereo back on despite himself. "Oh, fine," he sighs. Evidently he's a sucker for big wide eyes and cute wheedling, even if it's from a Marine corporal. "Might as well, now." He looks at her askance, though, before he returns to his scrubbing. "I've a reputation t' maintain, though, y' know," he mumbles finally, his face again tinged with red. Ah, the mortification if his pilot friends found out. Like primary school all over again.

The smile is back in force, and it's brought friends in the form of sparkling eyes. "Thank you," she squeaks, bouncing to the music again. "And when you're done with that toilet, you can dance with me!" No, she's not asking. It seems to be a foregone conclusion. "Whatcha doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Komnenos retorts, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice for a moment. "You never had t' clean the head with a toothbrush before?" He cocks his head, as if considering his own question for a moment, then turns back and scrutinizes Epi for a moment. "Well, maybe not."

Her eyes are closed and her body's moving to the music, full of bright energy. "All the time," she says, bobbing her head. "Ma thought it was a perfect punishment when I was a kid. If you move the brush in circles, it goes faster and the dirt comes off easier."

He looks back to the corporal, surprise evident on his face, although whether at the admission or the advice isn't certain. "Thanks," he replies with raised eyebrows. "I'll try it." Indeed he does, swabbing in circles with the brush instead of simply back and forth. Surprise of surprises, she's right, too. "Well, whaddaya know," he mumbles to himself as he scrubs.

If energy could be harnessed, Epi's energy output in five minutes would be enough to keep the ship going for a week. She bounces over to the sink, hips and shoulders bouncing back and forth like a metronome. "I know a little about a lot of things," she answers him as she turns the water on. "What do you know?"

"Not as much as I should," Thorn replies with a sardonic smile. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here." The bristles scritch against porcelain as Komnenos continues his frenetic cleaning. "I know how t' write computer programs, how t' jam a Cylon Raider's combat sensors, how t' rig up a communications system using the contents of an old bunker and a half-busted com drone… but obviously not when t' keep my mouth shut."

"Of course you don't," she says, starting to wash her hands, laughing. "You're a -pilot-. You're in the air wing. When us Marines were getting our teeth knocked back for talking, they were teaching you all how to talk -back-." There's laughter in her voice, though.

There's a laugh from the madly scrubbing Thorn. "Good point," he says with a grin. "I'd never've cut it as a Marine… talking back just comes too naturally t' me." Finally, he takes a break from his cleaning, leaning back against the wall of the stall he's in and wipes his brow. "We have an image t' maintain, after all," he says with a quirky gleam in his eye.

Image, apparently, doesn't mean a whole lot to Epi. She starts singing along, using her hairbrush as a microphone, to the song playing on the radio. No. She can't sing. Dmitri's dog is probably howling in pain right now. She's about three keys off and two octaves too high. Finally she finishes and announces, spinning around in a pirouette, "Of course you do. You're a pilot. You have to do SOMETHING to get your ass to spread to those proportions."

"Here, now," Thorn answers with a sigh. "And t' think I was keeping a lid on all my Marine cracks," he snaps good-naturedly. If her attempt at singing makes his ears hurt, he doesn't show it. Then again, he doesn't have the best singing voice either, as Epi's now seen firsthand. Back to scrubbing, and after another couple of minutes that toilet is finished. One more, and then onto the floor, the last thing on the list. So close, yet so far.

Soon enough she's dancing back over to him, feet tapping lightly on the floor. "Care to dance, Sir," she asks, cheeks going pink. "Yes, I know. I forgot to greet you properly when I came in. But it's not often I come into the head to find a man on his knees in front of me."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't," Komnenos replies with another of those barking laughs. His face reddens a bit at the remark about his knees, but there's an amused twinkle in his eyes nonetheless. He lets the bit about the greeting pass; obviously, he doesn't seem concerned about it. After a measured look at the marine, he climbs to his feet and quickly washes his own hands at the nearest sink. "I don't suppose a bit of dancing would hurt anything, what?" He smiles again, one of those rare(for Thorn) smiles that actually reaches his eyes.

Epi's laugh is quiet and delighted as she starts to butt-wiggle-dance, arms above her head. She moves to the beat, a simply joy about her movements. "When was the last time you danced," Epi asks after a moment, looking over her shoulder at him.

Thorn, by contrast, is far more restrained; his body twists with the music, and his head nods in time with the beat, but he's still restricted by his earlier mortification, it seems. He doesn't stop, though, when she turns to look back at him. "Lords, I'm not sure," he replies, his eyes widening as he thinks. "College, probably. Had an ex-girlfriend on Caprica who couldn't get enough of it," he explains.

Finally, she dances back over to him, doing some dance moves that were popular on GEMENON years ago. Which means they're at least 2 decades out of date. "Come on, let loose, pilot," she says, tilting her head back to look up at him, laughing. "You're moving like you have a raptor up your ass. Let your arms go!"

"Maybe I do," Thorn retorts impishly, giving her a sideways look. He's proving surprisingly malleable, though. As the refrain of the song picks up, he finally seems to loosen up, throwing his arms out from his side and letting them move along with his body. Suddenly, he can't help himself; with another grin at Epi, his movements seem to pick up some energy, and he starts to actually *dance*.

The little woman favors him with a -huge- smile as he starts to dance, her laughter filling the room. A Marine walks in, looks at the pair, then turns around and walks right back out again, muttering under his breath. "See? I KNEW you didn't have a Raptor up your ass! The noses aren't pointy enough." Logic and Epi, apparently, aren't friends. They may be on speaking terms. Maybe.

Thorn laughs ruefully as the image of a pilot with a miniature Raptor jammed into his posterior appears unbidden in his mind. He shrugs as a random Marine heads in and immediately right back out; suddenly he's having too much fun to care. It wasn't anyone he knew, anyway, but he doesn't exactly know many marines. "I'm usually too clenched for a Raptor t' fit, anyway," he responds drolly as he dances the day away.

Her laughter fills the head again as she swirls and shimmies, shakes and grooves. Yep. A medic would swear she's having a seizure. There's SOME rhythm there. Kind of. "Gotta loosen you up," she says, impulsively reaching for one of his hands. "Gotta shake all that crap out and get you moving. Clenched is bad. Clenched HURTS when you get screwed. If you're relaxed, then there's not quite as much pain."

Thorn may have gone to school on Caprica, but he's still the product of a staid Aerelon upbringing, and he blushes slightly as she talks. "Good t' know. I think," he responds with a self-conscious smile. "Although I've never been on that end of it," he continues, his smile widening devilishly as he holds her hand in hers and spins her around.

She spins and stumbles, blinking up at him, wide-eyed. "Oh! I didn't realize you were gay," she says, smile brightening. "That's even better! You didn't strike me as the butch type, either, but that's ok. First appearances can be deceiving." And, apparently, the thought that he's gay has her dancing closer. He is, after all, safe.

"No, no," he responds with a stricken expression on his face, blushing even further. "It was a joke… I'm straight," he mumbles. His dancing slows, and he begins to clamp down again. He raises an eyebrow in her direction. "Couldn't you tell from th' way I dance?" he says, his humor slowly returning With that, he pauses long enough to throw off a perfect imitation of that most stereotypical of straight-white-male dance moves, the head-bob accompanied by gently swaying arms, before finally recovering.

She squeaks, eyes going huge, then laughs. "That must be it," she says. "I'm sorry, my gaydar's always wrong. I once outed a high school gym teacher by accident. I told him he was the straightest man I knew, and he blurted out in front of the whole class that he was gay." She's got that wide-eyed innocence about her. "I met his boyfriend a few years later. They were very cute together. But I will never, ever, look up Gemenese Black Bears on the computer ever, ever, ever, again."

Gemenese Black B… Thorn shakes his head, stopping himself from even contemplating its meaning. Whatever it is, he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know. "I was simply saying I wouldn't know because I'm not a woman," he tries to explain, before cutting himself off with another minute headshake. Finally, though, he just throws himself back into the dancing, and gives her another look. "Maybe you ought t' get your gaydar looked at," he adds, an eyebrow crooked in amusement. "Doesn't sound too reliable." His tone is teasing again, and Thorn's quite relieved that momentary confusion was cleared up.

And around and around she goes, dancing circles around poor Thorn - literally. "Know a good gaydar mechanic," she asks, smile impish. "And I don't know too many women who'd have -that- experience, honestly. Most of the time they go for the other." She stops dead on the floor, canting her head to the side, brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know how the first would work, though. I guess it's the same principle."

Komnenos shrugs. "Hells, I'd never even met a gay man until I came t' Caprica." He coughs as the conversation comes full circle. Prim Aerelon upbringing rears its head once again. "As for that, well, yeah, same principle. Or so I'm given t' understand," he adds hurriedly. "None of the women I've been with ever seemed t' think much of the idea."

Utterly, utterly baffled. She just shakes it off after a moment, like a teacup poodle shaking off the water from a bath, and starts dancing again. "I'll just put that down in the 'things I don't understand' column, right under pilots," Epi tells him, looking up at the man with a beaming smile.

Thorn lets the subject drop, as well. "The same way I doubt I'll ever understand women, myself," he replies dryly. He doesn't resume dancing, though; instead, he looks down regretfully at his now forgotten toothbrush where he'd left it on the floor by the wall. "I'd better get back t' cleaning," he says with a sigh. "The captain'll have my balls in a jar if I've not finished this before I'm back on flight status, and as much as I've enjoyed your company, I don't particularly want t' have t' come back and finish tomorrow."

Epi laughs softly and moves over to hip-bump him, gently. "She's not going to begrudge you laughing and having a LITTLE bit of fun, will she," she asks, giving him the big wide eyes of doom again. She looks rather like a kitten, hopeful for a treat.

Not those again. Is she starting to figure out he's not immune? "Probably not," Thorn admits. "Hells, given what's been going on lately, she may even be glad for it. But then again, I'm ostensibly being punished, here," he adds with a half smile.

"PUNISHED," Epi says, aghast. "What did you DO? Pee on her Raptor?" She actually stops dancing. "Good grief. What kind of monsters are those pilots," she wonders aloud.

"Haven't you heard? I have an attitude problem," Thorn replies in a perfect deadpan. "What, you think I'm down here cleaning your head for shits and giggles?" He grins. "No pun intended."

The woman looks around, peers into the stall he hasn't gotten yet. "Well, the shits part you've got down," she says, nose crinkling. "I don't see a whole lot of giggles." She peeks back out at him, grinning. "Attitude problem, huh? In a pilot? There's a surprise." Her body starts moving to the music again, as if she just can't stop.

"Hnh." Thorn snorts, though he's still smiling slightly- until he gets to that last stall, at any rate. His nose crinkles in dismay as he gingerly begins to scrub. "At least pilots can aim," he grumbles as the toothbrush goes to work.

Poor Thorn, Epi's right over his shoulder, peering as he works. "Go a little to the left," she tells him. "There you go. Don't forget to go in circles now." Oh, lot of help SHE is.

He pauses just long enough to turn back to her, a slightly perturbed look on his face. "I've done this a time or two myself, y' know, Shortstack," he replies mildly. "Isn't there something you'd rather do than watch me clean toilets?"

And like the kitten whose favorite toy has been taken away, the smile falls. "I'm sorry," she says softly, taking a few steps back. "I didn't realize I was bothering you. Thank you for the dancing." And over to the sink she shuffles, no longer dancing to the music.

"You weren't- I didn't-" Thorn cuts himself off with a muttered curse as she trudges away. "Any time," he sighs quietly before he turns back to his cleaning.

Sniffle. Sniffle. It's not a loud sniffle, or pair of them, and then the water's turning on.

"Oh, come on, I didn't mean anything," Thorn exclaims in a mixture of disbelief and dismay as he catches the sounds of sniffling. He crawls to his feet and goes to stand with her, quickly washing his hands off again before putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry…" He's not good with apologies, but he sounds sincere enough.

Epi looks over her shoulder at him, looking up, then gives a tremulous smile. "Sorry," she says softly. "I'm not good with people. I tend to be a little too hyper for them. I say it's because I was raised by Marines."

"You don't need t' explain yourself, Shortstack," Thorn replies simply, quietly. "I tend t' be short with people. Sometimes it gives them the wrong idea." Like just now? In any case, Komnenos shrugs, then raises an eyebrow. "Raised by Marines? My sympathies," he continues with a wan smile; from his deadpan tone, it's a joke, or an attempt at one.

Her nose crinkles a little and she manages a bit of a smile. "I tell people I was raised by wolves. It's more believable." She dabs at her nose with a paper towel. "I'd best let you get back to work and not bother you anymore. You're a very good dancer, Sir."

"Thanks. I think," Thorn responds with a smirk, remembering the earlier discussion about gaydar and such. "Take it easy, Shortstack." He hesitates before heading back to the last stall. "And don't think you were a bother. I was glad t' have the company," he adds quietly.

"I'd offer to help, but I don't think enlisted are allowed to help officers with the punishment," she calls over to him, lips twitching ever to slightly. "Are they?"

Thorn cocks his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Probably not," he replies shortly.

She laughs quietly and nods, then goes about pulling her hair out of its ponytail and grabbing her towel. Into one of his bright clean shower stalls she bounces, the door clanging behind her.

Thorn shakes his head in wonder as Epi leaves, allowing himself a smile and a soft chuckle before he finally resumes his work.

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