Feeling Blue By Jen Lmr Fandom: Battlestar Galactica Rating: NC-17 Category: Slash Pairing: Starbuck/Apollo Disclaimer: I really do own them. My real name is Glen Larson. This Jen (lmr) person is just one of my many alias'. Quite frankly I've enjoyed you ladies stories so much I figured, 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' Besides these characters are MINE. All MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE! Dedications: For Betty (See, I'm really not dead.) Also for Carol, for her continuous support. Caution: Schmoop ahead! Summary: I'm going to go with an Apollo/Starbuck first time snippet. I happen to like them. Apollo stepped lethargically out of his viper after he returned from patrol with his wingmate, Starbuck. The wingmate in question had been shooting him funny looks for days, but managed to refrain from asking too many questions. Of course, questions were one thing. Starbuck was another thing. The blond walked over to him, trying to hide the concern in his eyes. Apollo had to admit that it was a valiant effort. It certainly would have fooled anyone else into thinking that it was nothing more than cursory concern. That was one of the things he loved about Starbuck. He could read him like one of those old time books. He loved those old time books. He loved Starbuck. Like so many other things in his life, what he wanted, wasn't what he got. He'd lost his precious book collection during the destruction. He'd never really *had* his more than precious Starbuck. His father had always told him that Sagan would provide him with anything he really needed, that Sagan was always watching out for him. 'Sagan, but I'm tired! More tired than anyone has a right to be.' Apollo let the thought trail off as he forced his mind to concentrate on the here and now. "Pol?" Deep blue eyes searched his own. A hand fell lightly on his shoulder. Apollo stared back and for a moment he felt alive again. He shook his head and reminded himself where he was and who he was. Who he *is*. The blue eyes grew darker when they searched his own. Both of his fantasy's hands were now grasping his shoulders and looking into his own eyes intently. From the look on his wingmate's face, his Lieutenant wasn't happy with what he saw. "Apollo, how long have we known each other?" "Fifteen yahrens." 'Forty-two days, eleven centars,' Apollo finished giddily to himself. "And you still don't feel like you can confide in me when something is bothering you?" "Of course I can. Its just that... well, it isn't really any one thing that's bothering me. It just seems that *everything* is bothering me lately." Starbuck smiled in relief. "Is that all? Given the circumstances we all live under its perfectly natural to feel that way every now and then." "I know you're right but it still doesn't make me feel any better." "That's happened to me too. Believe it or not sometimes when I'm feeling really down even playing pyramid doesn't cheer me up. Sometimes even *winning* at pyramid doesn't cheer me up." Apollo let out a mock gasp. "Not even winning at pyramid! It must have been very serious!" "Very funny. My point is that eventually the feeling goes away. Come to think of it, you really don't seem to have any real hobbies. Maybe you should think about taking one up." The Captain quickly squelched a wicked thought involving his Lieutenant. "I do to have hobbies." "Oh, really. Like what?" Starbuck gave him a skeptical look. "I enjoy reading." "Okay, not really my thing but how about something a little more energetic?" "I also enjoy writing stories." "Okay, we're getting warmer but not by much. Anything else?" "Playing triad." "Now we're talking. How about you and I play a little triad later." Apollo sighed, "I can't. Colonel Tigh is complaining about unfinished reports, Boxey is complaining that I don't spend enough time with him, and my quarters look like a celestial storm went through them. Then there's Athena, who's suddenly developed an active social life. Getting her to watch Boxey for me anymore is like pulling teeth. So I also have to work out alternate baby-sitting arrangements." "I see your point. Maybe Cassie could baby-sit and I could help you with your reports?" "Believe it or not, since you and Cassie broke up she seems to have actually developed an active social life too. Now that she's not waiting around for you all the time she doesn't have nearly as much time to spend watching Boxey, if any. In fact, you and I seem to be the only ones I know who aren't currently involved in some kind of hot romance." "Okay, now I'm starting to feel a little depressed. We can't be the *only* ones. What about your father?" "Him too." "No! With who?" the blond asked in a shocked voice. "He won't tell me." "Colonel Tigh?" "Yep. And before you ask, I don't know who he's seeing either." "Alright. I am now officially depressed. What about the reports though? I could still help you with those." "Their command staff reports. Colonel Tigh would have a fit if you worked on them." "We just won't let him then." "He'll know." "Hmmm. You're probably right. I could still come over and keep Boxey company while you work on the reports." "You sure you don't have a hot date to get to?" Apollo looked at his wingmate sideways. "Apparently, I'm one of the few people that doesn't," Starbuck said wryly. "Okay, thanks. I'd appreciate it." "Think nothing of it." The two warriors headed off to pick up Boxey from learning period. Upon seeing the two of them arrive, the boy put on a pouty face. "Are you two going out?" he asked accusingly. "No, actually we're staying in. We'll all have dinner and then I'll help you with your lessons while your father finishes some reports. Afterwards, we can play a game together," Starbuck told him sincerely. "Really?" Boxey blinked at them. "Can *all* of us play a game?" He directed this last towards his father. "Yes, all of us." Apollo ruffled his son's hair good-naturedly. On the way back to Apollo's quarter's Boxey asked, "Starbuck, how come you don't have a date tonight? Everyone else does." Starbuck just snorted and gave him a mock dirty look. "Sorry," Boxey said unrepentantly. "Maybe you should have paid more attention to your girlfriends before they all found someone else," he smirked. "Apollo!" "Boxey!" "I could get a date if I wanted to," the blond grumbled. Boxey giggled, while Apollo found himself having to bite back a snicker. Father and son spent the evening meal mercilessly teasing Starbuck about his recent lack of female companionship until even the Lieutenant found himself laughing at their jokes. Not that he wasn't happy when the meal was finally over. Starbuck went off to Boxey's room with him to help him with his lessons while Apollo set off to work on his reports. Since Boxey finished his lessons a full centar before Apollo even took a break from his reports, the Lieutenant stayed in the bedchamber with Boxey listening to tales of his day and playing games. Apollo immersed himself in his reports, hoping to finish them as soon as possible. Every now and then his mind would wander to his friend and son in the other room though. He really was feeling less overwhelmed now. For all of Starbuck's supposed faults and carefree attitude, he really was a great friend. He always seemed to know just what he needed and when. Well, almost always. After a centar, Apollo couldn't resist going to see what the two of them were doing. It sounded like whatever it was, they were both having alot of fun and frankly he was starting to feel a little left out. He stood quietly in the doorway watching his friend and son play what appeared to be a battle between the Cylons and the Colonial Warriors using puppets they'd made out of some of Boxey's socks. The two of them were so immersed in the game that it was several centons before either of them noticed him standing there. When they finally did they both looked up at him happily and invited him to join the game. It had been so long since Apollo did anything just for the fun of it that he couldn't resist the offer, soon all three of them were on the floor and before long were looking for more socks to use for the 'characters' in the game. Naturally the Colonials were beating the pogees out of the Cylons. When he next looked at the chronometer by the side of Boxey's bed he realized that over four centars had passed. "I hate to break this up, but Boxey, you need to get ready for bed." Boxey let out a yawn and a token protest before heading to the turbowashroom. "I can't thank you enough for what you did tonight," Apollo told his friend when they were alone. "I really do feel better." "Nothing to thank me for. I had alot of fun tonight," Starbuck said sincerely. "Besides, it's not like I could get a date or anything," he quipped. Apollo just chuckled and helped his wingmate off of the floor before going off to check on Boxey. After he tucked his barely half-awake son into bed he came back out to find Starbuck in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from the evening meal. "You don't have to do that," he protested. "It's okay. I don't mind. You could use a break. Why don't you go sit and relax or work on some reports or something?" After several protests on his part, Apollo finally conceded defeat and headed back to the living area. He looked over at the unfinished work still piled up on his desk, then shrugged and opted to sit back on the longseat for awhile. He became so comfortable there that he must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew he was lying partially on his side and Starbuck was sitting next to him rubbing his shoulders. Apollo couldn't help the moan that escaped him when his friend started rubbing a particularly tense spot. "Geez, Pol. I haven't encountered so many knots since I was in the Junior Scouts back on Caprica," the blond told him as he continued rubbing his shoulders. "*You* were in the Junior Scouts?" Apollo asked in disbelief as he shifted to give the blond better access to his shoulders. "No, not really. But I heard they teach them to tie alot of knots. And what is this anyway, 'The Official Pick On Starbuck' day?" the Lieutenant groused. "Yes. Didn't anybody tell you?" the Captain asked in mock surprise. Starbuck gave his friend's shoulders a sharp pinch in retaliation. Apollo relaxed even further at the sensation this caused. In response, Starbuck increased the pressure on the dark-haired man's shoulders and gradually worked his way down along his back. "You know, this would feel even better if you took your shirt off." Wordlessly, Apollo sat up, removed his shirt, and laid back down. "Hold on, I'm just going to go get some lotion." Starbuck got up and left the room. When he was once again seated he began to go to work on the Captain's neck, shoulders, and back with a new intensity. Neither of them said a word for a very long time. Apollo couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed in his entire life. "I could take my pants off too if you want." "What?" Apollo turned his head around to look at his friend and gave him an unreadable look. "I said I could take my pants off too if you want." "Uh, sure. If you want." The dark-haired man got up, swiftly removed the rest of his clothing and laid back down once again. "Do you want me to rub your legs?" The question sounded uncertain. "Sure. Whatever you feel like doing." He felt the hands on his back tense in response and grinned inwardly. 'Maybe he's even more sensitive to my needs than I'd imagined.' Apparently he was, because before long those talented hands moved slowly downwards from his back to his buttocks, to his thighs, knees, calves, feet, toes. Giving them all the same generous attention that he had previously given his back, neck, and shoulders. As those hands kneaded his flesh, Apollo felt his body turning into warm liquid. He lay there, giving himself over to sensation, as his best friend in life worked his way back upwards. He didn't miss a single centimeter of flesh. When those hands began massaging their way slowly down his arms and paid such loving attention to his palms, the back of his keyboard weary hands, and on to his fingers he felt like he was in heaven. When they retraced that path and lovingly rubbed his head and face he forgot his own name and was vaguely aware that he had been moaning his appreciation. Then they stopped. He didn't want them to stop. He wanted to protest but couldn't seem to make his now liquid body move at all. Feeling the longseat dip around him, he sighed in relief. "Just thought I'd get a little more comfortable myself," Starbuck said in explanation. Strong, naked thighs straddled his hips and the wonderful massage continued. Only problem was, now Apollo had a new ache that desperately needed taking care of and it wasn't on his back. He lay there for as long as he could stand. Now he didn't feel as if his body had turned to liquid, he felt as if it had turned to fire. As if reading his thoughts, Starbuck said, "I could do your front if you want." That was all the encouragement Apollo needed to wriggle over on to his back and give his oh so wonderful and dear friend complete access to his front. He stared into blue eyes for a moment and then let his gaze travel downwards. His eyes riveted onto a deliciously ripe erection that matched his own. He let his gaze travel back upwards so that his own green eyes met blue. In that gaze a question was asked and answered. The touch of those firmly kneading hands gentled as they began a slow and intense exploration of the flesh laying out so enticingly before them. Entering new territory, now afraid to meet one another's eyes, neither wanting to break the spell that seemed to be enveloping them. By the time those hands finished their lengthy exploration of his upper body, Apollo couldn't tell if he were dying or just beginning to feel truly alive. By the time those wonderful hands reached his feet, skipping lightly over his groin on the way, he still wasn't sure which one it was. When those hands were replaced by a warm mouth and tongue, he could not only remember what question he'd been asking himself, he couldn't remember how to think. That mouth, that tongue, that heat began a torturous journey from his toes, up the length of his body, and to the very top of his head. Once again though, it merely skipped lightly over his groin. He had almost worked up the strength to protest when he felt one of his fingers sucked hungrily into the mouth in question. Sagan! If this is what he can do with a finger, I wonder what he could do with a... Nevermind, best not to think of that right now. After what seemed like endless moaning and writhing on his part, Apollo finally broke the silence. "Starbuck! Please!" Without even looking at him, Starbuck acknowledged his need. He stopped his oral exploration of his fingers and focused on another part of his body that was in desperate need of attention. Apollo felt the world around him crumble as that sensuous mouth descended on his organ. He'd fantasized about this exact thing on occasion in the darkness and solitude of his bedchamber. The fantasy didn't live up to the reality though. Not by half. Reality was *so* much better. He came embarrassingly quickly, but couldn't seem to bring himself to ponder that at this particular moment. When he was feeling more in control of himself, he couldn't help the self satisfied grin on his face when he realized that his closest, dearest friend ever had seemed to have the same problem. At least, judging by the hot liquid that he was now feeling against the side of his thigh. Starbuck shyly pulled himself up off of the longseat shortly after, and headed to the turbowashroom without meeting his gaze. Apollo had only managed to sit up by the time his partner returned and began gathering up his clothes. "Where are you going?" "Bachelor officer's quarters I guess." The blond would still not meet his eyes. "Can't you stay?" Blue eyes looked up quickly. "Stay?" Apollo smiled and deliberately stretched his body out on the longseat in a luxurious manner. "Yes. Stay." The blond looked at him hesitantly. "You don't have a hot date or anything, do you?" the Captain queried. Starbuck couldn't hide his grin. "I'm not sure." Apollo got up and went over to him. "Let me assure you. You do now." Oddly enough, after everything that had happened that night, it was the first time their lips met. The End