He should have turned back when he found the door locked. But no, he had to go and put in the lock code- after all, that was what he'd always done, on the rare occasions he'd found his best friend's door locked against him. So he did as he'd always done, and put in the lock code and opened the door, onto a scene from his worst nightmares. Apollo, kneeling naked on the floor, slowly undressing with passionate care... Sheba.

Whose eyes, dreadfully cold and hard for someone locked in a passionate embrace with the handsome Captain, focused on him immediately. The gloating little smile she wore tore straight through his heart.

"Apollo!"

The cry was wrenched from him from a force outside himself, torn from his throat with a sound of raw anguish. Surely even a soul in hell could not have felt more torment than he did at that moment, as he saw all hopes for ever finding love destroyed by the coldly gloating bitch in his best friend's arms.

Apollo turned away from Sheba, face flushed and lips gleaming moistly in the light from the corridor. "Star- what are you doing here?" His face reflected confusion.

"Apollo, how- how could you..."

The world was destroyed from beneath his feet. There was no recovery from this. He couldn't keep his balance, had to clutch at the wall to keep from going down. His stomach churned.

"You need to leave," Sheba's voice skirted his misery like a buzzing insect- audible, but hardly worth noticing. More important was the familiar sound of concern in Apollo's voice.

"Star? Are you okay?"

There was a rustle, and then a hand supported him, helping him over to a chair. Starbuck tried to resist, tried to pull away, but he was too stunned by what he had seen. He fought to keep tears from his eyes, not an easy task in the face of his loss. Sheba's voice buzzed faintly in the background.

"Lay off, Sheba," Apollo spoke sharply. Then, in a much gentler tone, "Come on, buddy- tell me what's wrong. This isn't like you. You've got me worried, now."

"Like you care," Starbuck choked out, around the knot of tears he refused to shed.

"Starbuck!" Apollo rocked back on his heels, wounded. He suddenly realized he wasn't wearing anything and looked around for his robe. There, over the back of the other chair- he slipped it on. Without the added heat of hormones, his room was rather chilly. He returned to his crouched position, beside his friend.

"Don't sound like that, buddy. Don't sound surprised that I've figured it out."

The bitter tone of Starbuck's voice cut into Apollo like acid. "What do you mean?" He was only peripherally aware of Sheba leaving.

"You don't give a shit about me, do you, Captain." Starbuck buried his head in his hands, rocking slightly from the pain in his gut.

"How can you say that, Star? You're my best friend, my wingman- my brother."

"If you cared, you wouldn't be fucking around with Sheba."

"But I thought-" Apollo shook his head, bewildered. "I thought you were just like everyone else- pushing me towards Sheba, trying to get me to make a good match..."

"When did I ever say that, Apollo?" Starbuck raised his head from his hands and looked at Apollo at last. Even in the dim light, his eyes blazed with anger. "When did I ever tell you I thought it was a good idea if you got it on with Sheba? When, Pol- when did it happen?"

Now that he thought of it, he couldn't think of a single time when Starbuck had indeed recommended that he go for it with Sheba. "Never," he whispered. He reached out and laid a hand lightly atop Starbuck's, where it clenched and unclenched on the arm of the chair. "Does this mean you think it's a bad idea for me to give in to her?"

"Brilliant observation, Apollo." Starbuck seemed to be regaining control of himself. He no longer rocked, no longer clenched his gut or his head as though someone had driven a centurion's shortsword deep within him. But his face was still twisted with pain, and his voice still reflected it clearly.

"And who would you rather see me with, then?" Apollo asked softly, searching the familiar face for signs of a reaction. "One of the other women out there, so eager to marry a uniform?"

Starbuck winced. He well knew how many women threw themselves at the Captain on a regular basis. "No, Pol- no. I just- maybe I don't want to share you, okay?"

Apollo smiled, tightening his hand on Starbuck's. "I think that can be arranged," he said softly, voice trembling ever-so-slightly.

"What-" Starbuck gasped, then flinched away. "Don't play games with me, Apollo- I'm dead serious here."

"So am I, Star- so am I." His thumb stroked lightly over the clenched hand, soothing away the tension. "Look at me."

Unwillingly, Starbuck looked up, looked into the green eyes, barely visible in the dim light. Saw the small, infinitely tender smile the other man wore, saw the hope shining from within.

"Starbuck... I only chose Sheba as second best." The smile got a little bigger. "And a piss-poor second best, at that. The person I was really interested in didn't seem to want me."

Jealousy surged over Starbuck, drowning out his own voice of hope. "Who?" he growled. "Who was it?"

"Someone who means more to me than life itself, someone who never showed the slightest interest in me... until tonight." Apollo drew Starbuck closer, inviting him into an his arms.

Starbuck's head spun again. He'd gone from hell to the heavens in the space of a few heartbeats. When Apollo's arms crept around him, he tried to hold himself away, then gave in and clung to the other man. Apollo stretched upwards, in what surely must have been an awkward position for him, half on the floor and half in the chair. "Unless you mean me, I don't want to hear about it," Starbuck murmured into his friend's hair.

"Of course I mean you, Starbuck," Apollo's voice was filled with warm amusement. "There's never been anyone else for me. I thought you knew that."

"You never once let on, all these yahrens." Starbuck straightened, back in control of himself at last. He looked around the room and saw that Sheba had left the door open. He rose to close it, and Apollo let out a little yelp.

"Starbuck!" He scrambled to his feet. "Starbuck, no- don't go-"

The door slid shut, and Starbuck turned with a chuckle. "I'm not going anywhere, Pol," he said, with a slow smile. "See, the way I see it, you have a lot of making up to do. 'Cause I just may never recover from the sight of you on your knees in front of Sheba."

Apollo shuddered. "Now that you mention it... that is a rather apalling prospect." He slipped free of his robe again. Starbuck crossed his arms and fixed him with a stern glare, visible even in the twilight of the room. "How ever shall I make it up to you?" He dropped to his knees in front of his friend, who pretended to look away as though mightily offended.

"I don't know that you can, Pol," he said, corners of his mouth twitching. But his hand strayed down to caress the upturned head. "That was a dreadful shock..."

Apollo pressed up against Starbuck, toying with uniform fasteners. "Will you let me try?"

A soft chuckle answered him. Then Starbuck's hands were pulling him to his feet and into a far more fulfilling embrace. "Damn straight I will, Captain," Starbuck breathed, and then kissed him.

"Good."

Words were not needed after that, as the Captain did everything within his power to ensure that the evening's traumatic events were atoned for thoroughly.

I'm sorry, so sorry...

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