Lights danced and gleamed over the women dancing on stage, shimmering off their costumes in ripples and occasional sharp beams. The music pulsed in the air, working its way into blood and bone until the entire crowd vibrated to the beat of the drums, wild and exotic. The dancers twisted and shimmied, flowing gracefully, enticingly, across the stage, weaving a complex pattern of enchantment for their audience.

But one man among the many there wasn't utterly captivated. Apollo leaned back in his chair, sipping at his drink and wondering why the dancers weren't affecting him. Beside him, Starbuck leaned forward avidly, eyes fastened on the dancers and very clearly enjoying what he saw. Nothing wrong with him. Apollo put his drink down with a rattle of ice cubes and stood up. Starbuck looked up at him, abruptly jolted out of whatever fantasy had been playing out behind those blue eyes. "I'll be back. Maybe."

Apollo turned and left, picking his way through the crowded tables without waiting to see if Starbuck responded or not. Probably not. It had all been Starbuck's idea, coming over to the passenger liner Fatima for some obscure holiday celebration.

"Fertility celebration, 'Pollo," he'd said, with a wide grin and a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Guaranteed to be unlike anything your Caprican eyes have ever beheld. They say the dancers can get a rise out of even the most devout Otori. And it sounds much more interesting than attending that improvised Temple and listening to some wrinkly old farton preach about how wicked it is to indulge in 'pleasure for its own sake,'" and Starbuck launched into a devastatingly accurate imitation of old Brother Helion, even down to the dry, creaky voice. Apollo had laughed, and agreed. He'd never much liked Temple services anyway, and other people's religions intrigued him.

But somehow, this fertility celebration hadn't been as enjoyable as promised. Apollo shoved his way through the men standing at the back of the room and out into the hall. All of them were enjoying the expected reaction, he could tell by the glazed eyes and the heavy breathing. What was wrong with him, anyway? Oh, the dancers had been lovely, certainly. He'd appreciated them on a purely aesthetic level, the way their bodies had moved perfectly in time to the music, rippling and undulating, then moving with sharp precision that shook the beads and spangles on their costumes... beautiful. But not exciting. Not half as exciting as the look on Starbuck's face...

Apollo shook his head abruptly and started through the liner's halls, looking for the route back to the shuttle stop.

"Apollo! Wait!"

He turned, stifling a groan. Starbuck was hurrying towards him, looking a bit ruffled and annoyed. "Why'd you follow me?"

"Why'd you leave?" Starbuck countered, falling into step beside his friend. "You could have stayed a bit longer, the show was almost over. What's wrong?"

"I have a headache?" Apollo knew immediately that excuse wouldn't fly. Not with the rising inflection of his voice, like he was questioning himself and hopeful that Starbuck would buy it.

He didn't. "Nice try, Polly, but I don't believe you."

"Don't call me that," Apollo snarled, automatically hunching his shoulders in a defensive response he couldn't prevent, bred of far too many times when boys at school had taunted him with the hated nickname before trying to wipe the ground clean with his face.

"Don't pull that kind of lame excuse, then. You sounded like Boxey." Then Starbuck relented and smiled. "Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. So what's the real reason?"

They had reached the shuttle stop now, one of the many ingenious innovations forced by the situation. Shuttles ran between all the ships of the Fleet on a regular schedule, much like the public transit system implemented by all the Colonies before the Destruction. Now the refugees were free to move about the ships of the Fleet. Although, naturally, the shuttle system would be the first to go down if there was ever a fuel shortage, for the moment it was a nice convenience.

"When's the next shuttle due?" Apollo dodged, looking at his chrono.

"On the centar, dimwit. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with that?" Starbuck shook his head, a gesture filled with reproach. "You should really know better than that by now, old friend."

"Maybe I don't want to tell you what's wrong," Apollo mumbled. "Maybe I don't even know myself..."

"Now that I refuse to believe," Starbuck said firmly. He took Apollo's arm and steered him towards the bench by the airlock door. "You're the Captain, remember? Always together, always completely in charge of the situation, always knowing more about what's going on than anyone else."

Apollo sat nervously on the edge of the bench, dragging his fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe he should get it cut. Maybe—

Starbuck elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Give it up, Pol," he said, the warning clear in his voice.

"What did you think of those dancers back there?" Apollo said abruptly, turning to face his friend.

Starbuck blinked, but answered quickly. "They were some very lovely ladies, although the one in the pink skirt needed to put on some weight. She looked like she was about to break."

"Did she? I hadn't noticed. I was more concerned with wondering why I could only see the artistry involved in their dance, not the sensuality everyone else, even you, was reveling in."

"'Reveling in?' Okay, Apollo," and Starbuck shook his head seriously, although his eyes sparkled, "now I'm worried. When you start talking like an encyclopedia entry, I know there's something really wrong. What is it? You're worried 'cause they weren't turning you on?"

A small knot of people, men and women in a tight chattering knot, rounded the corner and made for the shuttle stop. Apollo rapidly changed what he was about to say. "Where did they come from, anyway? Obviously they're from a well-established culture, but I can't seem to remember hearing about either that kind of dancing or that particular goddess."

The look Starbuck gave him said, more clearly than words, I know what you're up to, and you won't get away with it. But he answered readily enough. "They're the Beledon, a tribe of nomads from Taura. How have you managed to avoid hearing about them, history buff that you are?"

"Something tells me their history was not on the approved list of Academy reading," Apollo said at his driest.

"Maybe I should have taken you to the other celebration instead," Starbuck mused, one eyebrow raised. "That would have been an even bigger shock. Although, I have to admit, you don't look very shocked by the dancers."

"More by myself," Apollo thought, then realized he'd said it aloud when Starbuck smiled wickedly.

"You surprise me," was all the comment he made, glancing significantly at the other passengers. Five of them, three men and two women, giggling and happy, showing no sign of awareness that anyone else shared the waiting area with them.

Apollo sighed, feeling a momentary sense of reprieve. Somehow, even with the other people there, he'd slipped and revealed more than he'd intended to. But Starbuck's response had intrigued him—not shocked, more curious and... expectant? What was going on in that devious blond head?

The shuttle picked that moment to arrive, and Apollo followed Starbuck onto it, wondering. He'd heard some things, some wild stories... Maybe they were true? Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the only one who was thinking... inappropriate thoughts.

 


Starbuck settled back against the seatback, unable to keep all of the smile off his face. He just couldn't help it, he had to grin a bit at his best friend's nervousness. So he fixed the problem by aiming the small grin at one of the prettier girls in the crowd of celebrants on the other bench across the shuttle. The girl, a redhead, blushed a charming shade of pink, then smiled shyly before moving closer to her chosen young man and turning entirely away from Starbuck.

So Apollo was finally realizing girls didn't do it for him. Starbuck felt the corners of his mouth trying to get control and smile real big, but he fought it down. No sense in advertising that there was something interesting going on his head. Pol would catch on and ride him about it like a daggit on the hunt, trying to find out just what it was that he was grinning about, and there were some things even Starbuck wouldn't talk about in a public shuttle. Seducing his best friend was one of those things. He wondered how hard it would be—his mind snickered, and he changed the thought before he laughed aloud. He wondered how difficult it would be to get Apollo in bed. He hoped it didn't take too much effort. After all, he'd been waiting for just this opportunity for yahrens now, and he wasn't sure how well he could control himself if Apollo gave him even the slightest hint of encouragement.

Huh. Wonder what it was that had finally gotten through that thick skull of his? Starbuck had known for yahrens that Pol wasn't as straight as he claimed to be. Probably so did anyone who had an eye for catching the unconscious signals of body language... but then, not everyone could read people like Starbuck could. People thought he was such a hot card player because he was lucky, or because he was skilled, not because he could read people well enough that he—

The shuttle docked with a clang, jolting Starbuck out of his rambling thoughts. He stretched, looking at Apollo from the corner of his eye. Apollo looked grumpy. Great. Just what he needed, Apollo with an attitude. But Starbuck supposed that was to be expected, when a man was trying to come to terms with the notion that maybe he wasn't what he'd thought he was. Apollo stood up and started past Starbuck.

"No you don't," Starbuck said, hand shooting out to catch his Captain by the arm. "You're not going anywhere." He rose and stretched.

"Then hurry your lazy arse up," Apollo said, although without any irritation. Starbuck let the grin loose, seeing an answering light in Pol's eyes.

"We'll see who's got the lazy arse," Starbuck said wickedly, then strode for the shuttle portal with a light step. He couldn't contain the bubbly feeling inside... finally! He had a chance with Apollo!

"What the hades has gotten into you, Starbuck?" Apollo caught up to you. "I swear, you're acting like a little kid anticipating a big treat."

Starbuck burst out laughing. "Too funny, Pol," he gasped, in between chortles. "If you only knew..."

"Something tells me I'm going to find out," Apollo said. Starbuck almost couldn't believe his eyes. The expression on Apollo's face was speculative, anticipatory... inviting. So he turned on the infamous Starbuck charm full force and gave Apollo one of his better smiles. He was rewarded by a slight flush and a small smile in return. Nowhere near as pink as the girl in the shuttle, but that was most likely due to better control.

"You might, if you come with me," Starbuck said, then took off for his quarters. Now he was glad he'd gone to so much trouble to make sure he had a private room. True, it wasn't very big, but it was all his and he didn't have to worry about a roommate walking in at the worst possible moment.

"What are you up to?"

"You'll find out," Starbuck promised. There was the turbolift. Up three levels, out into the corridor. Turn left. Hurry now, it was a healthy hike to his end of the corridor... three more doors... And there was his. He pressed his thumb to the lockplate and the door slid open silently.

"Now are you going to tell me—oof!"

Apollo's attempt at speech was stopped as soon as the door slid shut behind them. Starbuck took him by the shoulders and kissed him firmly. Maybe that wasn't an entirely good idea, especially since Apollo was stiff as a board under his hands, but he just couldn't wait any longer. Screw talking. He knew what he wanted, he was ninety eight percent certain he knew what Pol wanted, and there was no reason to hold off any longer, especially since Pol was relaxing under his hands and leaning into the kiss.

Then Apollo pulled away. "Starbuck!" he said, sounding shocked. But his breathing was fast, his eyes were dark with desire, and his hands were reaching out for Starbuck.

"Am I right, Apollo?" Starbuck said, breathless. Damn, but he hadn't had a kiss like that in... well, ever! Guess what everyone always said was true, that sex was better with someone you really loved. "You don't find women nearly as attractive as me?"

Apollo gaped. "How—what—yes, but... How'd you know?"

Starbuck smiled. "Apollo, only you could be dense enough to have to ask that question. I've wanted you for yahrens. You've wanted me for yahrens, but you were in denial. It was obvious! At least to me."

Apollo fussed, and Apollo sputtered, but then Apollo shook his head and sighed. "You know what, Starbuck?"

Starbuck tilted his head to one side expectantly. "What, Pol?"

"I think you're right." That was all he said before moving as swiftly as Starbuck had earlier and wrapping his arms around his best friend. Their lips met again in a passionate kiss.

Starbuck managed to retain enough sense to lock the door before hauling Apollo off to the bed. They had a lot of lost time to make up for, and he intended to do his best to make sure Apollo came running back for more.

 

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