Affirmation
by Jen

Apollo sighed with deep satisfaction as he stepped into the hot water of the shower.  There were times when it seemed that oil and grease were an inescapable fact of life on an operational battlestar, and days like today, spent deep in the hot and airless bowels of the ship on a routine maintenance check of the hull, only confirmed the impression.  Apollo threw himself with what Starbuck considered unnecessary enthusiasm into the whole business, but Apollo's reasoning was that he would not expect his men to do what he was not prepared to do himself.  What he admitted only to himself was the thought that at least this way he could ensure that it was done, and done properly.  Unpleasant and boring though the task was, it was essential to their very survival.

While Starbuck supported Apollo in this admirable resolve, he was also adept at somehow managing to be assigned to other, desperately important, duties whenever the time for the scheduled checks neared.  Knowing that it wasn't really a job he could ask warriors to undertake except in an emergency, and realising that he probably wouldn't have taken it on himself had he not been the commander's son, Apollo didn't push him.  There were times, though, like only a few centons previously, that he wondered why he let the lieutenant get away with it.  Starbuck had taken one look at Apollo on his emergence from the depths of the ship and immediately entered into competition with Boxey to outdo one another in their picturesque descriptions of Apollo's filthy state.

Eventually though Starbuck's instinct for survival had won out, and before he could be tasked by his increasingly irritated lover with the job of hull-inspection on the following day, he had taken Boxey off for his promised treat of an overnight stay with his grandfather.  Whether it was more of a treat for Boxey or for Adama was more than Apollo could say, as both seemed to look forward to the regular visit with equal enthusiasm.

On their departure, Apollo had taken instant and blissful refuge in the streams of hot water from the shower, no longer having to try to keep his expression stern in reponse to Boxey's final cheeky admonition of "And remember to wash behind your ears".

He was losing himself in the caress of the warm water over his skin, his hands, slick with soap, gliding over his body in a way that reminded him that Starbuck would be back soon, and they would have the place to themselves all night.  His stomach contracted in pleasurable anticipation, and somehow it was no surprise when the soap was taken from his hands and Starbuck joined him in the shower.

"Boxey?"

"Bumped into Cassie - she's taking him."

And then there was little need for words as Starbuck replaced the soap in its holder and began to run his hands over Apollo's wet body.  Down the front first, over the shoulders and across his chest, palms of his hands gliding across Apollo's nipples, which tightened at the contact.  Then down his stomach, fingers moving in circular motions, before he knelt down to run soapy hands up Apollo's thighs.  Apollo moaned slightly, and shifted where he stood, opening his legs to encourage further exploration.  To his disppointment, Starbuck took no notice of the invitation but stood back up.

"Turn round," he said.

Apollo complied, supporting himself on braced arms against the tiled wall while Starbuck's talented hands worked on his back, stroking slowly down the slippery flesh.  By the time Starbuck's hands began to glide over the smooth skin of his ass, he was shivering despite the steam.

"You know, Apollo," Starbuck's voice in his ear was husky and uneven, betraying his own excitement, "You seem to have got grease in the strangest places."

As he spoke his finger traced the cleft of Apollo's ass, causing Apollo to cry out.  He moved again, opening his legs further, and was rewarded by a finger sliding into him, slippery and unbearably exciting.  Whimpering, he pushed back onto it, his panting breaths even louder in his ears than the sound of the water.  Then his breathing stopped altogether as the finger was taken away, and slowly replaced by a familiar width and hardness.

"Starbuck..."  It was all he could manage when Starbuck's cock slid all the way inside him, right to his heart.  And then even that was beyond him and the sounds he made were incoherent as Starbuck began to thrust rhythmically, until the thrusts were short and hard and they were both groaning with the need.  One final hard thrust sent Apollo over the edge, and Starbuck's grip was bruising on Apollo's hips as the spasming muscles tore his own orgasm from him.

"Love you, 'Pollo... love you...love you..."

They slid ungracefully together to the tiled floor, until the discomfort of cramping muscles and pouring water drove Apollo to force his uncoordinated limbs into action.  He tried to feel guilty at the wanton waste of the Galactica's limited resources as he turned off the shower but the grin that kept threatening to crack his face wouldn't let him.  Instead he reached out a hand and pulled Starbuck to his feet.

"Bed," he said, in the decisive tone of one bred to command.

Starbuck evidently knew a wise order when he heard one because he obeyed without question, leaving his crumpled uniform and Apollo's filthy overalls where they lay on the floor of the shower room.  He paused briefly on the way through to the bedroom to pick up the bottle of ambrosa and two glasses that he'd had the foresight to put out earlier.

"You know," he said as he placed his burdens on the bedside shelf before climbing under the covers next to Apollo, "I forgot one thing."

"What's that?"  It was sleepy, coming from a pleasurably sated Apollo who wanted nothing more than several hours sleep curled up around his lover.

"To check you washed behind your ears."

The half-hearted thump was never delivered, as Starbuck countered it with a blinding smile and a brimming glass of ambrosa.  Apollo groaned.  "Starbuck, it's been a long hard day, and all I really want is to go to sleep."

The glass was carefully returned to the shelf and Starbuck lay down, pulling the cover up around him.  "Night, then."

The quality of the following silence effectively put paid to Apollo's desire for sleep.  "Bucko?"  He reached out and touched his lover's shoulder.

"I thought you wanted to sleep."  It was petulant and grumpy - a tone he'd either learned from Boxey or taught him - but Apollo knew that the hurt he'd seen in Starbuck's face only moments before was real.

He dropped a kiss onto warm bare skin just where Starbuck's shoulder emerged from the cover, mad at himself.

"You can check behind my ears now if you want," he offered by way of apology.  "But I think I'd rather have that glass of ambrosa."

"Lords, I wish you'd make up your mind what you want."  The grumble let Apollo know that his apology had been accepted.  "There you are.  And don't spill it on the bed - you don't want any more sticky patches to explain to Boxey."

"At least it's not melted mushy," Apollo countered.  "I swear I spend more time taking his bedding to the laundry than I do anything else."

"Anything else?" Starbuck queried, subjecting Apollo to a long and detailed inspection over the rim of his glass, reminding the captain just what he'd seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time doing since he and Starbuck had become lovers.  Certainly he couldn't remember having spent so much time in bed with Serina, however enjoyable their lovemaking had been.

He wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if Serina had lived.  Nothing, probably.  He would have continued happily in his marriage, and Starbuck would never have let him know how he felt, just as he'd hidden his feelings all these yahrens.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn't met?" he asked Starbuck.

Starbuck sat upright, positioning himself more comfortably against his pillow.  "Yeah," he admitted.

"And?"

"Well, I figure I'd be running a casino somewhere, and you'd be Strike Captain Apollo of the Galactica, just like you are now.  Or maybe you'd be a Colonel by now, without me to tempt you off the straight and narrow."

"You mean you wouldn't be a warrior?"  The shock in Apollo's voice caused his question to echo loudly around the room.

Starbuck shrugged and picked at a spot on the bedcover before glancing up again.  "Oh, this is felgercarb Apollo.  We have met, and we're here."

Recognising a dismissal when he heard one, Apollo asked, "So what sort of a casino would you run?"

He nodded in all the right places and made all the right noises, but if asked to repeat any of Starbuck's wildly elaborate plans for his imaginary business, he couldn't have.  Nor could he have reported reliably on the content of the rest of their conversation that night, though he faithfully participated in it until Starbuck's yawns threatened to crack his jaw.

He lay while Starbuck slept beside him, staring up at the ceiling above him, listening to the powerful thrum of the Galactica's engines, and wondering.  How could Starbuck have so little idea of his importance in Apollo's life that he thought Apollo would be exactly the same person without him?  It was Starbuck who had been a constant in Apollo's life for almost as long as he could remember.  It was Starbuck who had got Apollo through the desperate tearing grief after Zac and his mother, and the numbness that followed his loss of Serina.

The answer was obvious, yet Apollo circled it warily, unwilling to admit it.  Starbuck didn't know, because Apollo hadn't shown him.  He'd said the words.  Twice.  The first time he'd screamed them in orgasm.  The second time, he'd quietly returned Starbuck's passionate avowal of love as they lay together in the dark.  But he'd never felt the need to keep saying the words, unlike Starbuck.  What he hadn't realised was that perhaps Starbuck needed to hear them.

Apollo had also insisted that they tell no one of the change in their relationship.  He'd felt that Boxey was still too loyal to the memory of his mother for Apollo to announce another relationship yet.  And if Boxey wasn't to find out, nobody else could know in case they let it slip.  As with everything Apollo wanted, Starbuck had agreed.

Turning restlessly over in the bed, Apollo stared out into the dimly lit room.  He'd like another glass of ambrosa - however appalling it tasted at only a yahren old, it would still help him to sleep - but he couldn't get to the bottle without reaching across and waking Starbuck, or without getting out of bed and walking round to the other side.  He sighed and decided it was too much effort, unless there was enough in the bottle to put him out for the rest of the night.  Squinting through the dimness to try to make out the level in the bottle, his attention was caught momentarily by the dark shape beside the bottle and he frowned, trying to make out what it was.  When he remembered, his stomach lurched.  It was the flatpic of Serina, taken on the day they were sealed.  He had brought Starbuck to their bed, made love to him here, all the time looked on by his dead wife, and then he wondered why Starbuck felt as though he was no more than a convenience in Apollo's life.

His decision was made before he knew it.  Sliding quietly out of bed, trying not to disturb Starbuck, Apollo trod quietly around to the other side of the bed and picked up the picture.  He took it out into the living area, where the brighter lights he brought up caused him to blink furiously until his eyes had adjusted.  Then he traced a finger down the image of her cheek for the last time, and stood it among the others on the mantel, noting absently the thin layer of dust that covered them.

He stood and looked at them for a moment.  His dead.  His mother smiled out at him, loving and so proud as she stood beside his father.  His eyes skated uneasily over the one of Zac to one of a younger Athena; it had been a long time before he had been able to put a pic of Zac with the others, but in the end, its absence accused him more than Zac's likeness ever could.  It was just that he still found it difficult to look his brother in the face.  And another one of Serina, this one bearing numerous prints of small sticky fingers beneath the dust.

As he turned away, another, almost-forgotten picture caught his eye: him and Starbuck on their graduation day.  The pic showed them in their dress uniforms, arms round one another's shoulders, grinning proudly at their achievement.  His lips curved into a smile as he remembered that day and the way that, on realising Starbuck had no parents to invite, his own family had instantly adopted him for the day.  They seemed to have forgotten ever to rescind the adoption and Starbuck had become a part of their lives.  He had become the most important part of Apollo's life.  The thing was, Apollo had just assumed he knew that fact.

He switched off the lights and made his way back into the sleeping quarters.  Starbuck was still fast asleep, and Apollo slid in beside him, his arms going around to pull his lover close.  Starbuck murmured something, then relaxed back into sleep, pressed against Apollo's body.  Just as soon as Starbuck woke up in the morning, Apollo was going to tell him, face to face, just what he meant to him.  And then they'd have breakfast together and wait for Boxey to get home, so that they could break the news of their relationship.  After that, it would be only courtesy to let his father know.  And Athena, of course... and Boomer...  and - perhaps it would be quicker to put out a bulletin on IFB, Apollo reflected sleepily.  But the most important person to tell was the one fast asleep in his arms, his breath soft and warm against Apollo's neck.

Apollo pressed his lips into the mop of blond hair.

"Love you, Starbuck."
 

End