"Oh... my..."

Even Boxey's eyes bulged as the enormous concoction was lowered onto the table. Called the Lion's Roar, after some mythical beast supposed to have been King of all the land, it was decadent beyond belief. A dozen oversized scoops of handmade ice cream, of various flavors, lurked beneath copious amounts of real whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, and three cherries. Peeping out from beneath the whipped cream were gobs of hot fudge and hot carmel.

"You ordered it," Starbuck teased. "It's all yours."

"Starbuck!" Apollo laughed. "Don't put any ideas into his head, or I'll see that you're the one who has to stay up with him all night in the turboflush!"

"I don't have to eat it all myself, do I?" Boxey asked anxiously. "You'll help, won't you?"

"Well, since you ask so nicely..." Starbuck picked up a spoon and dug in with obvious relish. "Mmmm..." He licked whipped cream off his spoon. Apollo hastily looked away—the thought of Starbuck and whipped cream was unexpectedly appealing.

"Hey! There's a cherry for each of us!" Boxey grabbed one from the top of the monstrosity and popped it into his mouth.

"Yum! I love cherries. Can I eat your cherry, Apollo?"

I am so glad the lighting is dim in here... Apollo knew he was blushing, but grinned and nodded anyway. "Be my guest," he gestured expansively, then picked up his own spoon and tried a bit of sinfully delicious chocolate for himself.

Starbuck popped a cherry in his mouth, stem and all. A moment later, with a pleased grin, he pulled the knotted stem out of his mouth and displayed it proudly. "Betcha can't do that, Boxey."

"Hey! How'd you do that? I wanna try!"

Apollo squirmed. This was not the place for these thoughts... but he couldn't help it. He wanted to do things to Starbuck involving lots and lots of whipped cream, and much chocolate...

"Huh?"

"I said, what's the matter with you, Pol? You're a million miles away."

His face grew uncomfortably warm again. "Nothing—just thinking." He applied his spoon to the ice cream with a will, hoping to distract himself. But it was no use. He wanted to get Starbuck alone, to strip him slowly down to his skin with much kissing and licking. Then he would start with that beautiful dick and smother it in whipped cream. No, wait a minute—chocolate first. Better lick off that whipped cream and start over.

"Dad!"

Apollo jumped guiltily. "What?"

"Are you okay? You've been licking your spoon, but there's nothing on it."

Apollo wanted to sink under the table with mortification. Starbuck leveled a speculative gaze on him from across the table. "I'm fine," he muttered. He ruthlessly shut down his traitorous thoughts and focused instead on the dessert. Part of him noted the wicked grin on Starbuck's face. He tried to ignore his best friend, as the other ate slowly, with a sensuous enjoyment that had Apollo steaming hot in moments.

What the hell does he think he's trying to do! his mind shrieked. Then imagination took over again, and he was back in a private place with Starbuck, chocolate, whipped cream... and a cherry.

Apollo whimpered, breaking free of the vision with an effort. What had gotten into him? Starbuck was off limits. He knew that. Except, of course, in dreams, and in the darkness of his own quarters at night, but this was not his home. Boxey ate on, oblivious to his Dad's discomfort. And the cause of that discomfort... Starbuck licked his spoon again, and watched Apollo squirm with evident relish.

Then the daydream was back again, only this time it was Apollo coated with whipped cream and Starbuck licking it off and it was so good...

"Excuse me," Apollo said hastily, and bolted for the safety of the turboflushes. He devoutly hoped that he was able to survive the rest of this day without making a bigger fool of himself than was absolutely necessary.

Cold.

He splashed cold water on his face, trying to cool his boiling blood. Yes, cold. Think cold thoughts. Ice. Not ice cream, dammit! Ice. Glaciers. Yes, much better.

Apollo stared at his dripping reflection in the mirror. What in all the worlds had gotten into him? And Starbuck too, for that matter. No, that must just be his own hormones seeing things that weren't there.

When he felt a bit better able to control himself, Apollo returned to his friend and son.

"There you are!" Starbuck exclaimed. "We were about to go looking for you. Did you fall in?"

"I did not." Apollo kept his voice smooth and even. He sat down and did not look at the melting dessert, now more than half gone.

"You okay, Dad? Your voice sure sounds funny."

"I'm fine, Boxey. Look at you, though! Your face is a mess." Apollo picked up a napkin and wiped futilely at smears of ice cream. He was aware of Starbuck's speculative gaze, but ignored it.

"Yeah, Pol, you do sound funny. What's going on in that head of yours? I might almost think you were having impure thoughts..." Starbuck grinned hugely when he saw that one hit the mark. "So, who is it? Tell me!"

"Not here!" Apollo hissed furiously, with a jerk of his head at the oblivious Boxey. "And none of your business, anyway!"

Starbuck only laughed. Apollo was instantly suspicious when he let it go at that.

Apollo had nearly forgotten the Ice Cream Incident by the time Boxey was tucked safely into bed. So he was caught completely off guard when Starbuck cornered him on it.

"Now you have no more excuses, Apollo," Starbuck said, as he sat back down on the couch.

"Huh?" Apollo replied intelligently, wondering what was up.

"Boxey's in bed, the soundproofing on your walls is excellent, this is certainly not a public place—" Starbuck smiled broadly at the look of confusion Apollo wore. "Now tell me, who was it you were imagining covered in whipped cream?"

"Uh—" The world dropped out from under him. He clutched the arm of the couch frantically and bit back his automatic response—you. "I, uh, I told you, none of your business..."

"Since when?" Starbuck was enjoying this. The look on his face resembled the rapt look of a cat with a cornered mouse. "Last time I checked, you told me everything."

Not everything, Apollo thought, easing the suddenly too-tight collar of his shirt. "Yeah, well, maybe I think it's my own business who would look good in whipped cream and chocolate."

"Oh my, chocolate too? You are feeling naughty tonight." He leaned back and crossed his legs. "So... tell me now, who is it?"

"Cherries too," Apollo said, with a grin. Maybe he was handling this all wrong—maybe if he just appealed to Starbuck's salacious nature, he could sidetrack him away from the unanswerable question. "If you're going to poke around in my fantasies, might as well get it right."

"Ooh, okay then. So, we've got chocolate—" Starbuck ticked the items off on his fingers "—whipped cream, and cherries. Anything else?"

Apollo licked his lips. Maybe this hadn't been such a good tactic after all. "Sprinkles. Don't forget the sprinkles."

"Ah, excellent. I might have known our tastes in such things would coincide." Apollo's throat went dry and he tried to swallow. "Now, who should it all go on? Perhaps our tastes run the same in that department as well..."

The look Starbuck hit him with pinned him to the couch. Unable to move, breathe, even think, Apollo watched helplessly as his friend reached slowly into his pocket.

"And what would you do if I told you what I wanted to do with this, hmm?" And he pulled out a can of whipped cream.

"Starbuck..." Apollo croaked. His heart hammered in his chest like a bird trying to break free. "What...?"

"I didn't bring any chocolate, or any sprinkles..." Starbuck grinned wickedly. Apollo made an incoherent sound. "As for who should wear it... I'd say it's pretty much a toss up between me and you."

"Are you serious, for once in your life?" Apollo forced the words out through the constriction in his throat and chest.

"Depends entirely on you, my friend. Just say the word and I'll be serious—otherwise, this lovely whipped cream goes back in my pocket without seeing any use and you can chalk this up to another one of Starbuck's weird jokes."

Apollo could hardly believe his ears. This couldn't be happening! And yet it was, and they hadn't even been drinking, so he couldn't blame it on Starbuck having one too many. He stared at his friend for a long moment, long enough that a flicker of uncertainty appeared in Starbuck's eyes.

"Very well, then," he said at length. "It was you wearing the whipped cream."

"I knew it!" A grin of blinding intensity spread across Starbuck's face. "I just knew it! The way your eyes got all big when I licked the spoon was a dead giveaway."

"Oh was it now?" Apollo's insides unfroze and he was able to move again. He stretched a hand out to Starbuck. "C'mere. The couch is bigger than that chair."

"Pol—" and Starbuck launched himself away from the chair, to land in Apollo's arms, where he had belonged all along.

"You know," Apollo said, a long and breathless moment later, "I have chocolate in the kitchen, and sprinkles..."

"So, the question remains..." Starbuck tried to look serious, failed. "Who gets dessert first?"