Laundry.

19Mar08

To say Brock was bitter would be a bit of an understatement. Two weeks into the assignment, and every morning when he woke up, it still stung to look around and see… a room. Just a room. Or maybe it wasn’t the room, maybe it was the fact that he knew the room probably wouldn’t be blown up or attacked or whatever.

And holy god, was this assignment boring. Brock spent most of his time avoiding the assignment’s kids, and the robot. His job was to keep the guy in the lab safe, not to babysit a pair of little kids with nothing better to do than ask him a million questions.

That day, Brock was in his room, sifting through audio tapes, when there was a knock at the door. Opening the door, Brock wasn’t very surprised to see Hank standing behind it, though the whole ‘being-covered-in-bubbles’ thing was a bit of a shock.

“B.. Brock?” the boy started hesitantly, looking at his feet. “Um… I was trying to do the laundry and…”

“Why wasn’t HELPeR doing the laundry? I thought that was one of his chores.” Brock crouched down to Hank’s level.

“HELPeR was making lunch for Pop, but I really wanted to wear my Batman costume, and it was dirty, but now…” Trailing off, Hank buried his face in his palms.

Brock sighed, then stood back up and placed a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go take a look.”

In the kitchen, HELPeR was panicking, the floor flooded with water, bubbles and sopping clothes. Beeping loudly, the robot spun in circles, claws covering its eyes. Brock watched it freak out as he splashed through, following Hank. A grilled-cheese sandwich sat, forgotten, on the stove; it was far beyond edible now. Brock switched the stove off as he passed.

The doorway to the laundry room was completely blocked off by the bubbling foam that was pumping out of the washing machine. Hank stopped about ten feet from the door, then looked to Brock questioningly. Looking back at him, Brock nodded, then walked through the wall of froth.

Wiping his eyes clear of soap, Brock looked around at the absolutely swampy room, standing ankle-deep in water. An empty detergent container floated by, followed by a shirt, a pair of Green Lantern-themed briefs, and Hank’s Batman mask. He watched them for a moment, then reached out and turned the washer off.

When Brock emerged, damp and covered in bubbles, he handed Hank the mask. “From now on, just let me do the laundry, okay?”

Hank nodded sullenly, staring at the plastic replica of Adam West’s face. “Hey, Brock?”

“Yeah?”

“Is my outfit clean enough to wear yet?”

One side of Brock’s mouth quirked up. “If you don’t mind the wet, yeah.”

Hank raced into the laundry room, and Brock went to find a mop.

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