Summary: It's a normal night out for you in 79's but you end up giving a massage to Captain Rex and inadvertently come up with a job proposal.
Word Count: 460 Rating: T
Tags: Alcohol, drinking, massage
Masterlist
When you’d brought up the idea one night at 79’s you hadn't been expecting anyone to listen to you let alone remember what your drunk ass had said.
“Jesus Rex, I don't know how you can even sleep at night when you're this stiff.” If you hadn't been more than a little tipsy you would have noticed how many eyes were on you and the captain but all your focus was on how insanely tight his shoulder muscles were under your hands.
This wasn't the first time you’d given him a shoulder massage. But this was the first time you’d done it in 79’s, not that it really mattered to you. As soon as you’d hugged him earlier that evening you’d began pestering him to let you work on him. Now you were crammed into a booth with a few other 501’st troopers kneeling behind him as you tried to loosen his muscles.
“I’m used to it, not like I have much- ah, choice.” You shook your head in disgust as you pressed into him with your palms. Slowly his hard muscles were relaxing under your hands and you hoped the tension was melting away from him. If Rex wasn't just as drunk as you he’d probably care more about how many troopers were staring at the two of you but he was, and all of his limited attention was on how good your hands felt.
“Those damn kaminoans, just providing the bare necessities for you guys.” There were a few grunts of approval from the others sitting in the booth. “If the Republic had their shit together they’d make sure you guys were better taken care of.” There were more sounds of agreement and a few clones raised their drinks to you.
There was a small crowd now, some wanting to talk to Rex and the others in your booth, but the rest were there to watch you work. You were oblivious to the fact that Marshal Commander Cody had also approached and was now leaning against the edge of the booth, his eyes fixed on your face rather than your exposed cleavage where many of the other troopers found their gaze drawn to.
“And who’d want to sign up for that job?” He asked, taking a sip of his almost untouched beer.
Your hands stilled and you looked over at him, trying to get your eyes to focus on his sober gaze. “Me and anyone who’s ever met you guys.”
The next day you barely remembered talking about it. But, as if you’d spoken it into existence, you were contacted not two days later with a job offer to be a part of the newly formed physical therapy unit on Coruscant and your first thought was ‘ well shit’ .
