Fowler's Five Stages and How They Relate to Your Sexual Identity Crisis (The Peanut Gallery Remix)
Title: Fowler's Five Stages and How They Relate to Your Sexual Identity Crisis (The Peanut Gallery Remix)
author: lls_mutant
Summary: Brendan Costanza always assumed he was straight, and not the brightest bulb in the bunch, either. So falling in love with Felix Gaeta requires some serious re-evaluation.
Characters: Brendan "Hot Dog" Constanza, Felix Gaeta, Racetrack, Narcho, and Hoshi
Pairings: mainly Hot Dog/Gaeta, but also Hoshi/Narcho and Hot Dog/Racetrack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
beta-reader: kappamaki33
Title, Author and URL of original story: How to Live and Love as an Amputee, by Brendan Costanza by trovia
Author Notes: The original fic was written before season 4.5 aired, and I followed the fic's version of 4.5 rather than the show's. (Otherwise, this would have been a much shorter fic with a much more depressing ending.)
In theory, the Founder's Day party was going to be a great place to meet women. Music, dancing, lots of alcohol, freedom and sunshine- it was a ready--made atmosphere for sex. And in a lot of ways, it was successful. Couples were hooking up left and right. The problem was, settlement on New Caprica meant that all of the girls had one thing on their minds (well, two): commitment and babies.
Babies. Eek. Brendan was in no way ready for babies.
"I don't have anything against them," he explained to Kat, downing his third drink. "They're cute and all that. But I'm a pilot. I'm just not ready for babies."
"Good thing no one's asking you," Kat observed cheerfully. "Come on. Everyone's dancing." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor, and Brendan managed to set his drink down before the liquid sloshed over the edge of the glass.
It seemed like the entire dance floor was filled with duty blues, at least, that was Brendan's hazy impression. He moved through the figures of the dance to find familiar faces: Dee, Racetrack, Starbuck, Showboat, Seelix, Mathias, Snake Eyes, and then Kat again. It was easy and Brendan was laughing, enjoying this rarity.
The music slowed. Kat disappeared, and Brendan found himself standing awkwardly in the center of the floor. He looked around for an unclaimed partner, and his eyes met Felix Gaeta's. Gaeta grinned at him, shrugged, and extended a hand. Brendan shrugged assent back.
"I've never danced with a guy before," he admitted as Gaeta came close and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Feel free to lead," Gaeta offered, smiling. "I can follow. That's harder to get used to."
"Okay." Brendan was dubious, but his worries calmed quickly: this wasn't the sort of dance that required much skill anyway. He had one hand on Gaeta's waist and the other was caught up with Gaeta's free hand. He noticed that hand was smooth, and that Gaeta also smelled very good. Surprisingly good. They danced together easily, which on reflection, didn't surprise Brendan at all. After all, it was only dancing.
What did surprise him was his growing erection.
He panicked for a minute- would it be rude to pull back, or rude to stay where he was? But Gaeta didn't seem to notice. Instead, he smiled at him, an absent, pretty smile, and Brendan found his hand moving more firmly to the small of Gaeta's back. Gaeta moved closer, and that didn't help Brendan's problem at all.
The song ended, but Gaeta didn't move away. "We could keep dancing," he suggested.
"Sure," Brendan heard himself saying.
Gaeta smiled again, and this time Brendan's stomach turned over with nerves. Was Gaeta thinking he was going to get lucky tonight? And if he was, why should Brendan be nervous? He didn't often have a chance to turn down an offer, but the few times it had happened had hardly made him anxious. Not comfortable with the obvious conclusion about his potential answer, he hid his nerves behind an interested expression.
"So, how long before this place really gets up and running? I mean, really up and running?"
Gaeta's eyes lit up at the question. "It's going to be done in phases," he explained. "The ground we broke today is for the power plant, and then an apartment complex to start. If you look at the transitional spatial topography, you'll see that-"
Brendan nodded as Gaeta kept talking, even though he understood maybe half of what Gaeta was saying. But he wasn't bored. On the contrary, he was only more deeply fascinated. He was so used to Gaeta being controlled and professional; this passion and excitement was like night and day. Brendan felt like he was being privileged to glimpse a wonderful secret.
They danced three dances, the last one a fast one where they tripped over their own feet, and by the end they were laughing so hard that Gaeta was leaning his head against Brendan's shoulder, and Brendan had an arm around his waist for support.
They headed back to the sidelines, their fingers brushing together. Brendan cleared his throat. "I know this sounds odd," he began, "but can I buy you a-"
"Mr. Gaeta."
The voice belonged to Gaius Baltar- President Gaius Baltar, and their laughter fled. But Gaeta didn't look upset. On the contrary, even as he straightened up and regained his serious expression, a gentle warm glow lit his face, and he pulled away from Brendan. "Mr. President," he said, in a tone that Brendan had never heard him use to say Admiral Adama.
Baltar smiled, barely acknowledging Brendan. "Felix," he nearly purred, his voice caressing the name. "I thought we might take a break from the celebration to discuss the agenda for tomorrow morning's Quorum meeting."
"Of course, Gaius." Felix turned back to Brendan, and his eyes were shining. "Do you mind?"
"Course not," Brendan said as casually as he could. He'd heard something about Gaeta and Baltar from the rumor mill, and now he would bet every cubit he had that it was more than just gossip. Oh, well. He pulled away. "Have fun. Don't do anything I'd do."
Gaeta flushed, just a little, and the President treated Brendan to a glare that implied he wasn't going to dignify that with a response, and somewhere nearby, Brendan thought he heard a woman snicker. But when he looked around, no one was listening to their conversation. He shook his head and stepped back, then watched them walk away together.
It was just as well, he thought. Gaeta was having way too… too hard of an effect on him, and Brendan had no clear idea of what to make of that at all.
***
When it came down to it, Founder's Day didn't matter. Gaeta was on the ground; Brendan was in space. So Brendan let the whole subject go and concentrated on flying and his duties, and the clouds and sometimes-blue sky of New Caprica. In fact, he managed to not think about it at all, which was why it was such a shock to his system when he saw Gaeta again, several months after Founder's Day, standing on the edge of the airfield as Brendan landed a Raptor.
"Hey, Gaeta!" he said, amazed that even after months, his body remembered exactly how much he'd liked dancing with him. "Come to meet me with flowers and open arms?"
"Funny, Hot Dog," Gaeta said, laughing. "Come to meet the people you brought down with you."
"Oh." Brendan looked over his shoulder at the two ships' captains who were huddled into thick coats, although today was warm by New Caprican standards. "Nice day."
"I know," Gaeta said. "Break out the swimsuits and flip-flops. We'll start digging a community pool right away."
Brendan glanced over at the tent city. "I hear you guys have been busy over there," he said, hoping to see Gaeta's face light up the way it had on Founder's Day.
He was disappointed. Gaeta sighed, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Not as busy as I'd like," he admitted. "Frustrating is an understatement."
"Is it that bad?"
Gaeta glanced at the ships' captains that Brendan had brought down with him. "No," he said, and there was something about Gaeta's face that suggested he was lying. "I should probably get them over to Colonial One."
"Yeah. Hey, listen." Brendan couldn't believe that he was asking this, but his mouth was moving without his consent. "I have something of a shore leave tonight. If you're homesick for Galactica at all, want to meet up for dinner?"
Gaeta blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Great. I'll see you tonight?" Brendan asked. Gaeta nodded and then went over to Brendan's passengers. Brendan watched him, wondering how in the hell he was going to get through the day when he just really wanted to get to the night.
***
Colonial One looked a little out of place sitting on the hill. Brendan still thought it was strange to see it on the ground, with the hatches open like doors. He was walking up the hill to it when Gaeta came walking down, removing his tie from underneath his coat and swearing under his breath.
"You okay?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta startled, like he was surprised to see Brendan there. "Yeah, sorry. It's been one of those days." He blinked for a long moment, and then shook himself. "Right. Dinner."
Brendan had the very unflattering feeling that Gaeta had forgotten altogether, but there was no way he could actually say that, especially with Gaeta fiddling with the open collar of his coat. A small triangle of skin was exposed at his throat, and Brendan couldn't rip his eyes away from it. "Right," he managed to say. "I have to be honest, I don't know what you guys do for dinner around here."
"Normally I make something that pretends to be soup," Gaeta said. "I can follow a recipe just fine, but cooking without one tends to be a bit of a crapshoot. I have some leftovers of something that was actually edible, if you want, or we could go over to the community tent."
"Soup's fine," Brendan said. He suspected that the community tent would be loud, and he really wanted to jump on this opportunity to get to know Gaeta better. "So, frustrating day?"
"There was a time I once considered patience to be one of my virtues," Gaeta said, walking down toward the tent city. "Ever since we came to New Caprica, I've learned I was wrong."
"Patience is overrated," Brendan said absently, looking around. The day was warm, and that apparently meant mud. His boots squelched in it, and he could see mud splattered up on the walls of the tents. New Caprica was a lot dirtier than he had ever really noticed.
"This is me," Gaeta said, holding the flap to a tent open. Brendan stepped inside and looked around interestedly.
It was a small tent, smaller than most of them. The furniture was arranged neatly, the bed made with military-approved precision. Brendan stared at the bed for a little longer than he should and then flushed and looked away. Gaeta hadn't noticed; he was rummaging in what looked like an insulated box. He pulled out a container and put it on a small gas stove to cook.
"Take your coat off," Gaeta suggested. "Just toss it on the bed."
Brendan did so. The tent was close and warm as the little stove got going, but it still seemed cold, and Brendan soon realized why. There was only one picture, and other than that there was nothing about this place that was personal. Very little color, very few mementos. He was about to say something when he noticed Gaeta lighting candles.
His throat closed, and his stomach tightened with nerves.
Gaeta smiled self-deprecatingly over one shoulder at him. "I hope you don't mind dining by candlelight," he said. "I'm not trying to seduce you, but although we've got some power, we don't have a lot of light bulbs. Crazy, isn't it?" He sighed, pulling out the chair at his desk for Brendan and sitting down on his bed and shrugging off his coat. His shirt was rumpled and stained underneath, and Brendan could see where the elbow had been mended.
"It's all right," Brendan said. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "So patience is a requirement on New Caprica, huh?"
Gaeta huffed a sigh as he leaned forward to stir the soup. "Something like that. Of course, if I had my way, the city would look like Mykanos right now. Were you ever there?" Brendan wasn't even sure what planet the city had been on, but he just shook his head. "It was beautiful. Lots of marble, a lot of columns and spires and top heavy buildings… I loved it. Of course," he added with a cynical smile, "it also had one of the highest crime rates on Picon."
"Was that where you were from?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta smiled that slightly sarcastic smile again, and Brendan felt a shiver go down his spine at the sight of it. "Nope. Halfway around the world."
"Went there often?" Brendan asked, curious.
"Never, until I was in the Academy." Gaeta pulled out two tin bowls and a pair of spoons from a crate-like box that obviously served double duty as a table. "Had a boyfriend who lived there."
"Yeah?" That cheered Brendan a bit. He'd been sure that Gaeta was into guys, but there was always that chance he'd pretend or something, if he wasn't interested. "Serious?"
"I thought so, until he-" Gaeta cut himself off and shook his head. "Yeah. It didn't end well."
"Sorry." Brendan rubbed the back of his neck. "He cheat on you or something?"
"Something like that," Gaeta said, and Brendan finally got the hint Gaeta didn't want to talk about it.
"Oh. Well, men are scum, can't live with them, all that," he said. "Had any better luck since then?"
Gaeta snorted. "No."
Brendan remembered hearing someone- Helo, he thought- commenting that if you ever wanted to find the biggest asshole in a room, figure out who Gaeta was attracted to. Brendan was suddenly really glad he hadn't seriously thought something was going to happen tonight. He relaxed a little more, and Gaeta handed him his bowl of soup. "So," Brendan said, "if not Mykanos, what is New Caprica going to look like?"
He spent the rest of their dinner together listening to Gaeta talk about structural plans and development, infrastructure and drainage. Eventually it became like when they'd been dancing on Founder's Day: the bitterness ebbed from Gaeta's face, leaving him excited and hopeful. Brendan really, really liked seeing him like that, and although the conversation was pretty one-way, he was enjoying himself anyway.
At least, until Gaeta finished his soup and looked at his watch. "I can't believe I've been talking so long. Sorry about that."
"It's all right," Brendan said. "It was interesting."
"Right." Gaeta clearly didn't believe him. "It's been nice to catch up, and I really hate to be rude and kick you out, but I have an… appointment tonight."
"Frak, you work hard."
"Something like that." Gaeta didn't smile.
"Oh, so it's not work then?" Brendan teased. "A little hot illicit sex?" This time Gaeta did flush- just a little- and Brendan sighed to himself. "Have fun," he said. "Don't do anything I'd do."
"You said that before," Gaeta said, recovering his composure. "What exactly would you do?"
Brendan laughed. "Pretty much anyone. And on that note… have a good night."
"You too."
Brendan scooped his jacket off the bed and flung it over his shoulder, winked at Gaeta, and ducked out of the tent.
Well, damn. Now what was he going to do with the rest of his night?
***
Eventually he found himself in a tent that had been set up as something of a bar. It was much bigger than Gaeta's tent and hung with some fairly colorful blankets. It was crowded and smoky, but as Brendan bought a bottle and pushed in through the crowd, he noticed a few familiar faces.
"Hot Dog! Over here!"
Narcho was sitting at a table with a man who looked vaguely familiar. Both of them were wearing civilian clothing, even though Brendan knew at least Narcho was still military. He pushed through the crowd and plopped into a seat. "Frak," he said. "It's crowded. What are you doing down here tonight, Narcho?"
"Shore leave," Narcho said with a grin. "Commander Adama kicked my ass out for the night."
"After you begged and pleaded," the other man said, and his voice extremely familiar. "Because you were late putting your form in."
"Which is why he kicked my ass of the Pegasus. He didn’t want to deal with me without you around to keep me in check. Oh, Louis, do you know Hot Dog?"
"I don't know that we've met in person." The man extended his hand. "Louis Hoshi."
That was why the voice was so familiar. "Nice to actually meet you," Brendan said. "You still dealing with that rash?"
Hoshi blinked for a minute, and then laughed. "That was all Twofer's invention," he insisted. "Trust me."
"I'm just always surprised when you Pegasus guys have a sense of humor," Brendan explained.
"Yeah, well, we're always surprised when you Galactica pilots can fly straight without crashing into something," Narcho riposted cheerfully. "What's got you down here for the night, Hot Dog?"
"Had a shuttle run, and then orders to pick up some supplies tomorrow and bring 'em back up to Galactica."
"You're on your own?" Hoshi asked.
"Yup." Brendan made a face. "Was kind of hoping not to be, but here I am."
"Well then," Narcho said, his smile deepening, "join us for a drink."
***
"So then the blonde says to the bartender, 'You like that? You ought to try the sausage!'"
Brendan howled with laughter, reaching for what he was fairly certain was his glass. It wasn't supposed to be moving, but with concentration, he could make it stop. At least long enough to grab it.
He kicked Hoshi under the table. "You aren't laughing."
"I've heard it," Hoshi said with a long-suffering sigh. "Many times."
"Yeah? How long have you guys been together?" Brendan asked.
Hoshi blinked. "You know?"
"You guys might not be as obvious as half the Galactica crew is, but he's got his hand on your knee and you only think that's his shin you keep running your foot down," Brendan said. "What? Is it a secret?"
"Not anymore," Narcho said, shuffling the deck of cards they'd been playing with, "but Admiral Cain was very strict about fraternization."
"But you're both lieutenants, right?" Brendan asked, confused.
"Doesn't matter much," Narcho said.
"Then how'd you get together?" Brendan asked.
Narcho smirked. "Cain doesn't know everything. Especially what goes on in storage lockers."
If Narcho wasn't a kindred spirit, Brendan didn't know who was. "Okay," Brendan said. "I've got to ask. I've seen some porn and all, but I didn't know many guys who were into guys on Libran, y'know? We were all about the tits. And I'm not really asking this to be rude, but… what the frak do you guys do? I mean, for real?"
"What, like a blow-by-blow?" Narcho asked, grinning evilly at the unintended but fully appropriate double entendre. Hoshi just looked thoughtful.
"That's exactly what I mean," Brendan said. He couldn’t believe he was actually asking this, but his mouth seemed to be moving without consulting with his brain at all. Not that he wasn't used to that, but this was even worse than usual. "I mean, is it all butt sex and that sort of stuff? Or more blow jobs?"
"Depends on the guys, I guess," Narcho said with a shrug. "Me, I've always believed in a healthy mix of anal, oral, and… frak, Louis, what do you keep calling hand jobs?"
"Manual," Hoshi said with a sigh. "And there's frottage, too." He made a face, apparently remembering he was a bridge bunny talking to pilots. "Dry humping."
"Oh." That was something Brendan had never considered. He imagined lying on top of Gaeta, and a shiver of arousal hit him hard.
"Yeah." Narcho glanced at Hoshi, and Brendan wondered just how long they'd been together that they could have a silent conversation and seem to understand each other perfectly. "We could show you, if you want."
Brendan had always wanted to do a threesome, but he'd also always imagined two hot girls (or hell, even just two girls) would figure in. And he'd always secretly thought that it was really only something that happened in the Letters to the Editor columns of porn magazines. So for once, he was completely lost for words. "I… um…"
"No hard feelings if you don't," Narcho said, "and the offer can stay open."
"Wow." Brendan picked up his glass and bolted it all. "Yeah. It's just… it's not that you're not really hot, right?" he said, looking more at Narcho than at Hoshi, who wasn't, but Brendan wasn't that choosy. "But I'm just still figuring all this stuff you, you know? I thought it would just be girls all my life, and then I found this out and… frak." He dropped his head into his hands. Annoyingly, his erection pointed out that the idea of sleeping with two guys might be more exciting than scary, but he firmly told it to shut the frak up. "This isn't coming out right."
"No, it makes sense." Hoshi leaned forward. "You're operating under the assumption that most people do; that once you reach a conclusion about some aspect of yourself, it's set in stone. But people are fluid."
"Little words, Louis," Narcho said. "We're pilots."
"Funny." Hoshi focused hard on Brendan. "Have you ever heard of Fowler's five stages of faith?"
"Huh?"
"Fowler's five stages of faith. People always assume that their belief in the gods is something that shouldn't waver, ever, but that's not what happens."
"That's all very nice, but this isn't about the gods," Brendan pointed out. "This is about my dick."
"I'm being metaphorical," Hoshi huffed. "Let me finish. See, Fowler broke faith down into five stages: intuitive-projective, mythic-literal, synthetic-conventional, individ… individua… oh, frak, something-reflective, and conjective faith."
"Baby, this is not clearing things up," Narcho said.
"Only because you two keep interrupting me. It does make sense. See, the first one, intuitive? That's when you believe what you believe because… well, everyone else believes it. You accept it because it's what you're taught and what you're expected to think."
"Wait, I get it," Narcho said. "Like just assuming that because all the guys around you like chicks, that's exactly what you're gonna do, too?"
"Exactly," Hoshi said, nodding. "But then comes mystic-lyrical. No, wait, literal. Anyway, that's when you start to look at stories- or in this case, your own physical reactions, probably- and take them on for yourself."
Brendan tried to think about that. "It sort of makes sense, but sort of not."
"It will. Third is the synthetic-conventional phase, and this is when you really start questioning and rebelling. Where you really start tearing things down. It's kind of a backlash and a precursor at the same time to… oh frak… indu… idivi- frak it!"
"Individuative?" Narcho attempted.
Hoshi smacked the table so hard the liquid in his glass sloshed. "Yes! That's it! Indi-whatever you said. Reflective faith. That one's kind of what it sounds like, where you're doing a lot of personal reflection, maturing, all that good stuff. Deciding what things really are to you. And the fifth is conjective faith."
"Acceptance?" Brendan tried.
"Integration."
Brendan thought about it. "So, let me get this straight. What you're saying is that… what are you saying?"
"In short? It will take a long time but you'll get it," Hoshi said with a shrug. "If it makes you feel any better, it was hard for me, too."
"It's always hard for me," Narcho said mournfully.
Hoshi back-fisted him lightly in the chest. "That's not what I mean, you twit, and you know it. I'm Gemenese," he explained to Brendan. "There are some lines in the Scrolls that most of the Colonies consider bullshit, but…" he shrugged. "I get it."
"How do you know all this?" Brendan asked. "The five stages and all that?"
Hoshi turned a little red. "I used to be a chaplain."
"Really?"
"That was a long time ago. I've been CIC for several years." Hoshi looked at Narcho and sighed. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think all this talk about sex has gotten my partner here all hot and bothered, and I'd better go do some of those things that started this whole conversation in the first place. Unless you want to join us?"
"Have fun," Brendan said with something like a smile. "Don't do anything I'd do."
"From the sounds of it, that's really not a problem," Narcho leered. He grabbed Hoshi's hand. "Come on, baby. Let's go."
Brendan watched them go, and then dropped his head onto the table. His head spun, and he thought maybe he'd just pass out here for the night.
***
There was some truth, Brendan knew, in what Hoshi said. Libran wasn't the ass-end of the universe, but Patras was definitely near enough to the ass-end of Libran. Same-sex marriages happened every now and then, and it wasn't really frowned on… but quite the opposite was just assumed. A wife, children a job… this was the life that Brendan had just assumed would materialize.
And there was no reason to think that it wouldn't. Brendan liked women. A lot. He liked the way they smelled, the way they looked, the way they felt against him. He'd never felt that anything was missing in his sex life (well, except quantity), and he'd never longed to have something up his ass or a cock in his moth. Women, he was fairly certain, were the greatest invention that the gods had ever come up with- although he wouldn't have minded if one or two more of them had reached that conclusion about him.
But if he was honest- really honest- he had a few memories. That pyramid player in high school that he never let himself look at. The guy in the office who he didn't like to let his hands touch, because it sent chills down his spine. Occasional stolen glances in the showers at Narcho himself, telling himself that he just envied the other man's physique. The clues might be infrequent and ignored, but they were there, when he let himself remember them.
And then there was Felix Gaeta, who had more of an impact on Brendan than anyone- anyone- had before. And Brendan was positive he wasn't even registering on Gaeta's DRADIS.
But then the Cylons found them, and Brendan didn't have time for anything like that to matter.
***
The Demetrius loomed in front of the Raptor, clunky and square. "Gods," Pike groaned, "I can smell it from here."
"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Seelix asked.
"Combat pay," Pike drawled. Brendan ignored them, shifting in his seat for a better view. Two months. He hoped this wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had.
They docked. The landing bay was small, with barely enough room to maneuver themselves and their gear out of the Raptor. Brendan had to admit that Pike was probably right about the smell. He wrinkled his nose.
"Welcome to the Demetrius," Helo was saying as they filed past him. He bowed slightly. "I will be serving as your XO today. Your captain with be Starbuck, and Mr. Gaeta will be serving as your navigator. Food and beverages will be provided on this nonstop flight to Earth. We hope you enjoy travelling with us."
"You are such a dork," Gaeta said dryly, pushing by Helo and holding a clipboard. He was wearing his duty blues, but he was sweating so heavily Brendan bet that he wouldn't be wearing the jacket long.
The others relaxed a little as the tone for the journey was set, but Brendan found that he couldn't. There was a tension in the air already; an air of distrust and the unspoken thought that this was insane. He gripped his bag tighter, tossed it over his shoulder, and made his way into the cramped confines of the ship.
The crew's racks were all in one room. Brendan squeezed in and tossed his gear on a bed. "Frak," Seelix said from behind him. "Can you imagine living in this shithole for the past four years?"
"Guess we're gonna get a first hand education," Brendan said. "At least you don't have to worry about stinking up the head."
"Funny," Seelix said dryly, but someone behind Brendan snorted. He turned to see Gaeta, still buttoned up, still with his clipboard.
"Captain Thrace wants us all in the mess hall," he informed them.
"Yes, sir."
Gaeta didn't move out, and Brendan squeezed by him. As he passed, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He shivered.
***
Starbuck was talking, and Brendan knew he should be paying attention, but it was hard. Really hard his brain snickered, but Brendan was used to ignoring himself. He was pretending to watch Starbuck, but in reality, his eyes were fixed on Gaeta.
He had seen Gaeta since New Caprica. At first, it had taken Brendan a long time to have the guts to even speak to him. Not because of the collaborator thing, but because of the piece that had appeared in the papers shortly after, about Gaeta being the inside source. That took guts and smarts and a kind of courage Brendan knew he didn't have, and why would someone like that want to talk to someone like him? Besides, every time they were in the same room, his cock essentially decided to serve as a divining rod. It was uncomfortable, in more ways than one.
Narcho thought it was all hysterical, and Brendan just really needed to get laid by a guy to sort this all out. Hoshi was sympathetic, but even his patience was running out. And Racetrack, the only other person that had any clue what was really going on in Brendan's head since Kat had died, veered between sisterly concern and ribbing him mercilessly, generally depending on her state of sobriety.
Gaeta was standing at ease right now, to the left of Starbuck. He was still in his duty blues, but he'd opened the jacket collar. He wasn't looking at anyone, and Brendan had the suspicion his thoughts were far away. Brendan wondered if he'd left anyone back on Galactica, or even in the Fleet. He hadn't heard any gossip, but that didn't mean a damn thing, especially considering how low of a profile Hoshi and Narcho still managed to keep. And Gaeta would be like them- discreet and not wanting the entire crew speculating and even betting on his love life. Brendan was sure of that.
Starbuck turned the floor over to Helo. Helo, in a voice that said he was trying to be everyone's best friend, was outlining the various duties that would have to be tended to over the next two months. Piloting, ship maintenance, the mess, the cleaning… and the sewage. Brendan wasn't alone in his groans- the entire crew seemed to be displeased about that one. He saw Gaeta close his eyes.
Helo was giving people the chance to sign up for shifts. At first, Brendan thought the idea was crazy- this was the frakking military after all, you just did what you were told- but Helo explained that it was really pick your poison: sign up for the sewage shift you wanted, or be assigned the ones no one wanted. There was definitely a rush to sign up.
By the time the sheet came to him, most of the "good shifts"- the ones during the day- were full. But Brendan didn't care. Because the name "Felix Gaeta" was neatly written at the top of an empty night shift list. Brendan smiled, and added his name right underneath.
***
"It's a shitty job, but someone's got to do it." The concentrated smell nearly knocked Brendan over when he walked into the recycling control room, but he managed to rally
Gaeta was sitting on a stool, studying a star chart. He looked up with a scowl. "That's seven."
"Huh?"
"Seven times I've heard that joke already, and we've been out of the Fleet less than forty-eight hours."
"Oh. Sorry," Brendan said. Of course it was the seventh time Gaeta had heard the joke- it was funny. But Brendan always figured humor wasn't something that could be explained, and Gaeta didn't seem like he was in the mood for jokes. At all. In fact, he just turned back to his work, barely acknowledging that Brendan was in the room. He had discarded the duty blues and was wearing his tanks and BDU bottoms, and he was glistening with sweat like everyone else. Brendan heartily wished that BDU bottoms were better at camouflaging erections, and settled down onto the other stool to hide the evidence under the table. Gaeta flicked a glance at him, and Brendan picked up the instruction manual. The pages were wrinkled and stained with brown splotches that he didn't even want to think about, but reading the manual at least gave him something to do. Gaeta settled back down to his star chart, and silence settled over the control room.
It wasn't what Brendan had hoped for- although sex wasn't either, against this backdrop and on duty- but at least the silence felt companionable. He read the manual in the dim light, stealing glances at Gaeta throughout the four hour shift.
***
"So then the blonde says to the bartender, 'You like that? You ought to try the sausage!'"
Gaeta snorted appreciatively, dealing the cards. "I've heard that one before, but it never gets old."
"I know, right?" Brendan said delightedly. "I actually know a guy who doesn't laugh when he hears it."
"You're kidding."
"Yeah, well, he's a priest type," Brendan explained. He took the hand that Gaeta had dealt him. Bunch of shit.
"Priest types don't have much of a sense of humor," Gaeta agreed. It was just the two of them in the space that served as the mess hall and the rec room in one; the others were either on duty or asleep. It was becoming a bit of a ritual- two nights a week they unwound together this way. Brendan had managed to get his hands on a bottle of liquor, and whenever that was the case he always saved it for those nights. He reached over and refilled both their glasses.
"Have you heard the one about the horse and the prostitute?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta rolled his eyes, but he laughed at the same time. "Many times. Okay, I've got one. A girl invited her new boyfriend over for dinner, and told him her parents were going out afterwards. So on his way over, the boy stopped at the pharmacy and asked for advice in selecting a condom. When he sat down at the dinner table, he began praying. After several minutes, the girl said, 'Hey, you've been praying a long time. I didn't know that you were so religious.' And the boy said, 'I'm not praying. I just didn't know that your father was a pharmacist.'"
Brendan gave Gaeta his best that's not funny glare. "What?" Gaeta asked.
"Things like that happen, you know."
"What?" Gaeta pulled back.
"I'm serious," Brendan said. "Same think happened to me when I was in high school. Her father ended up chasing me out with a shotgun and a pair of pit bulls."
"Frak. That's…" Gaeta looked horrified, and Brendan finally let himself crack a smile. "Wait a minute. You're frakking with me."
"Took you long enough," Brendan laughed.
"Frak that. You know, you're one hell of a bluffer." Brendan flushed under the compliment, and Gaeta rearranged his hand. "Where'd you learn, anyway?"
"Believe it or not, my mother," Brendan said, and for once, it was him that didn't feel like discussing the subject any further. Thinking about his mother and his sisters still hurt. Gaeta must have caught on, because he didn't press the subject any further. Silence fell over them again as they played their game, and Brendan relaxed. Well, as best as he could relax around Gaeta.
At the beginning of this mission, Brendan had half-hoped that being around Gaeta this much would make this all just go away. Not that he had anything against guys liking guys, of course. Narcho and Hoshi were as good of guys as you could ever come across, and Brendan was flat-out proud to fly with the one and be called home by the other. But that didn't mean that he was any more comfortable with the idea, or anything that it entailed. Not when he was talking about himself. And maybe being around Gaeta… it was obvious that someone like Gaeta- brilliant, confident, and ambitious- would never be interested in someone like Brendan, who'd spent a good part of his life as a second-class frak up.
However, being around Gaeta constantly had the exact opposite effect. Right now, Brendan watched as Gaeta neatly swept the cards into a pile, shuffling them with slender fingers. It was strange to look at another man's hands and imagine them wrapped around his cock, but it was also really, really hard not to. And Brendan noticed that Gaeta kept his nails short and smooth; not ragged like his own. He wondered, if he was going to go through with some of the stuff that Hoshi and Narcho had told him about, if he should stop biting his nails. Or at least make sure they were never ragged.
Gaeta frowned slightly at his hand. "Can I ask you something on an entirely different subject?"
"Ask me anything," Brendan invited.
Gaeta ignored the insinuation entirely. "Why did you volunteer for this frakked up mission?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you come? Do you really believe in Earth? Or in Starbuck? Or were you just ordered to come?"
"Oh. Well, yeah, I believe in Earth," Brendan said. "Who doesn't? At least, a little? But nah. I figured it would look good on my resume."
"I'm serious," Gaeta said.
"So am I. If we don't ever find Earth- and we may not- the Fleet's just going to keep going, and one day, I might not be able to pilot. Either we won't have enough birds or I'll get hurt or something. I knew that on a ship this small, I'd pick up some things like nav and controls and stuff. So if that day ever comes that I can't fly, I can at least still be useful."
"Everyone's useful."
"No, they aren't. Believe me- back before I joined up, I spent the days sitting on a carrier and basically shivering in fear. I did what I could, but I didn't have anything to do. Even during New Caprica, I still was a pilot. I don't want to go back to that nothing again."
Gaeta swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Guess I can see that."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Gaeta snorted. "I was ordered here."
"Kind of figured that," Brendan said. "You don't seem to think much of Starbuck."
"I can't stand her," Gaeta said flatly.
"Still," Brendan prompted, "there must be at least a few good things about this mission."
Gaeta glared at his drink. "There's absolutely nothing good about this mission. Nothing." He sighed and put his hand down. "I fold, and I'm sick of getting cleaned out by you. I'm going to bed. Have a good night, Hot Dog." He stood up, and walked to the bunks with only the slightest wobble in his step.
Well, what had Brendan been expecting he'd say? He chewed viciously on a fingernail, and then poured himself another drink.
***
"The thing is," Brendan said, vaguely aware his words were slurring, "I'm not gay. Bisexual. Big difference."
"What's the difference?" Athena asked, more interested in the glass that she'd taken up from where Gaeta had been sitting than the conversation.
"Tits," Brendan explained. "I still like tits. And I've always got that option."
"The option of tits?" Athena asked, smirking evilly.
"Funny. Sleeping with tits. With someone who has them, I mean. Like you. You have great tits."
"I think that was a compliment."
"Was. But this bisexual thing… it frakking sucks."
"What's so bad about it?" Athena said with a shrug. "It's not like anyone cares."
"They care," Brendan said portentously. "Everyone cares about sex on Galactica."
"Only because they can make money off betting on it."
"The thing is," Brendan said, "I thought maybe I'd have a chance, right? Two months is a long time to go without a frak, and there are only two hot guys on this ship."
"True," Athena agreed. She knocked back the liquor and poured herself another shot.
"And Helo's married to you, and Pike is a frak."
Athena wrinkled her nose. "You think Pike is hot?"
"He's not bad," Brendan confessed. "At least of the guys here. Who'd you think I meant?"
"Sam Anders."
"Oh." Brendan considered that. "No."
"Biceps," Athena said knowingly, like this was the most important thing ever.
"Married to Starbuck. The guy's a frakking doormat."
"Says the guy mooning after Baltar's long standing boy toy," Athena pointed out. This was not a new conversation to her.
"It's different. Felix honestly believes that people are good by default. Anders just thinks with his dick."
"Takes one to know one," Athena sighed.
"Are you done making fun me?"
"Not by a long shot. I'm a Cylon who's in love with a human. Forgive me if I don't find your plight all that unique."
She was right. Brendan leaned forward eagerly. "That's right," he said. "What was it like?"
Athena glared at him levelly. "They wanted to kill me," she said. "Both sides. I promise you that nothing like that is going to happen to you."
"No. I know that." Brendan tried to school his thoughts into coherence. "But when you realized you wanted him… was that weird at all?" Athena opened her mouth, but Brendan cut her off before she could make some scathing remark. "Look, I'm just saying. This isn't what I thought I'd be into, you know? I just always… assumed, I guess. And it's not I'm so afraid of what everyone's gonna say, because I know that it's no big deal on most worlds, right? And people already think I'll frak anything."
"I'm frankly impressed that you're holding out for Gaeta instead of going for a sheep," Athena said.
Brendan snorted. "So I get that. But it's just… it's not me, you know? Except I guess it is."
Athena sighed and poured herself another drink. "I see what you're getting at," she finally said, swirling her glass. "And yeah. I… before… I don't know what I thought. I don't think I thought about the future much, but consensus was so easy between us… and so natural. And when I actually met Helo, when we were together on Caprica," she shook her head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, it wasn't me. But it was. It was the first time I felt real."
"Is it normal now? How you feel? Are you used to it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Athena shrugged. "I don't know. I just did. But then," her smile twisted, "it helps that I actually had Helo. Whether I wanted to admit it or let him in or what, I had him. And having that sort of love… it makes you strong enough to deal with anything about yourself."
"Would be nice," Brendan admitted wistfully.
"You've really got it bad, haven't you?"
"What does it matter?" Brendan asked. "It's been seven weeks, and it entered his head that I'm interested."
"Nothing is registering with Felix these days," Athena said kindly. "Hang in there, tiger. There are only so many men left in the universe."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Brendan focused on his watch, blinking several times to make sure he read it right. "Frak. I'd better sleep this off. Thanks."
"Any time," Athena said, tipping her glass.
"Athena?" Brendan asked as he hovered by the door.
"I won't say anything," Athena assured him.
Brendan smiled. "Thanks. It's not the gay thing," he qualified. "It's the fact he's not interested. I think I'd rather go on having people make bets about the sheep. How much is it up to, anyway?"
"Forty seven cubits."
"Forty seven? Makes me want to put my bet in and do it," he sighed. "Good night."
***
The gunshot still echoed in Brendan's head, hours later. It erased everything that had come before it. All the anger, all the confusion and frustration and everything Starbuck had said and done was wiped away by worry. The atmosphere aboard the Demetrius was tense, heavy with waiting. Brendan flipped a switch idly on the console, but the truth was there was nothing he could do. Not until Starbuck and Athena returned… or until the clock ran out.
Five hours and twenty two minutes left. Brendan swore to himself, and then without a word to anyone, strode into the bunkroom.
Gaeta wasn't asleep, but he wasn't really conscious, either. He looked at Brendan through half-slitted eyes, his complexion was gray, and he was sweating. Brendan sat down in a chair that Helo must have left near the bed.
"Hey," Brendan said awkwardly, trying to talk around the lump in his throat. Gaeta didn't answer. "I've got a new joke for you." He moved over and sat down by the bed. He thought he saw a spark of recognition in Gaeta's eyes, but he couldn't be sure. "Okay. What do you call a positively charged kitten? A cation. Get it?" No response. "Yeah, I don't, either. Hoshi told me that one when he was drunk. When he gets drunk he forgets not everyone is as smart as him. Not that different from how he is sober, come to think of it." He thought he saw a flicker of a smile, and shifted a little closer. "Okay. Here's another one from Hoshi. See if you can make sense of it. What is the name of the molecule bunny-O-bunny?" Silence. "Yeah, I never would have guessed it either. An ether bunny." He sighed. "I still don't get it."
Gaeta closed his eyes. Maybe he got it and it was just that bad, but as a shudder wracked his frame, Brendan suspected that he was just in too much pain to be listening.
He hesitated, and then leaned forward and touched Gaeta's forehead. It was burning hot, and Gaeta moaned in pain at the touch. Risking the contents of his stomach, Brendan looked down at Gaeta's shattered leg. He choked as the gorge rose and closed his own eyes, trying to bite everything back.
Gaeta's breathing was evening out, and Brendan looked back at his face. His eyes were closed, and although he didn't look remotely peaceful, he was unconscious. With a sigh, Brendan stood back up and went back out into the control room.
"We have to get Gaeta back to the Galactica," Brendan informed Helo. "Now."
"I know," Helo said glumly. He was pretending to study a star chart, but Brendan could see he was really staring at the clock. "But we can't leave now."
"We have to," Brendan insisted. "If we don't, he's going to die."
"And if we do, not only might Sharon and Kara die, but all hope of Earth as well." Helo's jaw was set. "I'm sorry for Felix, but I don't really have a choice."
Brendan wanted to argue it, that Helo did have choices. Like jumping back to Galactica, and then jumping back here. Or using a Raptor. But Helo must have thought of these ideas and seen flaws in them that Brendan didn't get, so he held his tongue and nodded.
"We'll get him home," Helo said, and then sighed. "I just can't promise it will be in one piece."
***
Brenda knew there were people who were eager to see him back from the mission. Narcho and Hoshi, Racetrack, even Twofer and Showboat. But instead of going to the rec room, Brendan climbed into his Viper. His hadn't been one of the few they'd taken with them, and he'd missed his own cockpit, where the picture of his family was taped to the console. He slid in with a bone-weary thump, looking around blindly.
Then he put his head on his arms and broke down and cried.
***
On to Part 2
author: lls_mutant
Summary: Brendan Costanza always assumed he was straight, and not the brightest bulb in the bunch, either. So falling in love with Felix Gaeta requires some serious re-evaluation.
Characters: Brendan "Hot Dog" Constanza, Felix Gaeta, Racetrack, Narcho, and Hoshi
Pairings: mainly Hot Dog/Gaeta, but also Hoshi/Narcho and Hot Dog/Racetrack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
beta-reader: kappamaki33
Title, Author and URL of original story: How to Live and Love as an Amputee, by Brendan Costanza by trovia
Author Notes: The original fic was written before season 4.5 aired, and I followed the fic's version of 4.5 rather than the show's. (Otherwise, this would have been a much shorter fic with a much more depressing ending.)
In theory, the Founder's Day party was going to be a great place to meet women. Music, dancing, lots of alcohol, freedom and sunshine- it was a ready--made atmosphere for sex. And in a lot of ways, it was successful. Couples were hooking up left and right. The problem was, settlement on New Caprica meant that all of the girls had one thing on their minds (well, two): commitment and babies.
Babies. Eek. Brendan was in no way ready for babies.
"I don't have anything against them," he explained to Kat, downing his third drink. "They're cute and all that. But I'm a pilot. I'm just not ready for babies."
"Good thing no one's asking you," Kat observed cheerfully. "Come on. Everyone's dancing." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor, and Brendan managed to set his drink down before the liquid sloshed over the edge of the glass.
It seemed like the entire dance floor was filled with duty blues, at least, that was Brendan's hazy impression. He moved through the figures of the dance to find familiar faces: Dee, Racetrack, Starbuck, Showboat, Seelix, Mathias, Snake Eyes, and then Kat again. It was easy and Brendan was laughing, enjoying this rarity.
The music slowed. Kat disappeared, and Brendan found himself standing awkwardly in the center of the floor. He looked around for an unclaimed partner, and his eyes met Felix Gaeta's. Gaeta grinned at him, shrugged, and extended a hand. Brendan shrugged assent back.
"I've never danced with a guy before," he admitted as Gaeta came close and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Feel free to lead," Gaeta offered, smiling. "I can follow. That's harder to get used to."
"Okay." Brendan was dubious, but his worries calmed quickly: this wasn't the sort of dance that required much skill anyway. He had one hand on Gaeta's waist and the other was caught up with Gaeta's free hand. He noticed that hand was smooth, and that Gaeta also smelled very good. Surprisingly good. They danced together easily, which on reflection, didn't surprise Brendan at all. After all, it was only dancing.
What did surprise him was his growing erection.
He panicked for a minute- would it be rude to pull back, or rude to stay where he was? But Gaeta didn't seem to notice. Instead, he smiled at him, an absent, pretty smile, and Brendan found his hand moving more firmly to the small of Gaeta's back. Gaeta moved closer, and that didn't help Brendan's problem at all.
The song ended, but Gaeta didn't move away. "We could keep dancing," he suggested.
"Sure," Brendan heard himself saying.
Gaeta smiled again, and this time Brendan's stomach turned over with nerves. Was Gaeta thinking he was going to get lucky tonight? And if he was, why should Brendan be nervous? He didn't often have a chance to turn down an offer, but the few times it had happened had hardly made him anxious. Not comfortable with the obvious conclusion about his potential answer, he hid his nerves behind an interested expression.
"So, how long before this place really gets up and running? I mean, really up and running?"
Gaeta's eyes lit up at the question. "It's going to be done in phases," he explained. "The ground we broke today is for the power plant, and then an apartment complex to start. If you look at the transitional spatial topography, you'll see that-"
Brendan nodded as Gaeta kept talking, even though he understood maybe half of what Gaeta was saying. But he wasn't bored. On the contrary, he was only more deeply fascinated. He was so used to Gaeta being controlled and professional; this passion and excitement was like night and day. Brendan felt like he was being privileged to glimpse a wonderful secret.
They danced three dances, the last one a fast one where they tripped over their own feet, and by the end they were laughing so hard that Gaeta was leaning his head against Brendan's shoulder, and Brendan had an arm around his waist for support.
They headed back to the sidelines, their fingers brushing together. Brendan cleared his throat. "I know this sounds odd," he began, "but can I buy you a-"
"Mr. Gaeta."
The voice belonged to Gaius Baltar- President Gaius Baltar, and their laughter fled. But Gaeta didn't look upset. On the contrary, even as he straightened up and regained his serious expression, a gentle warm glow lit his face, and he pulled away from Brendan. "Mr. President," he said, in a tone that Brendan had never heard him use to say Admiral Adama.
Baltar smiled, barely acknowledging Brendan. "Felix," he nearly purred, his voice caressing the name. "I thought we might take a break from the celebration to discuss the agenda for tomorrow morning's Quorum meeting."
"Of course, Gaius." Felix turned back to Brendan, and his eyes were shining. "Do you mind?"
"Course not," Brendan said as casually as he could. He'd heard something about Gaeta and Baltar from the rumor mill, and now he would bet every cubit he had that it was more than just gossip. Oh, well. He pulled away. "Have fun. Don't do anything I'd do."
Gaeta flushed, just a little, and the President treated Brendan to a glare that implied he wasn't going to dignify that with a response, and somewhere nearby, Brendan thought he heard a woman snicker. But when he looked around, no one was listening to their conversation. He shook his head and stepped back, then watched them walk away together.
It was just as well, he thought. Gaeta was having way too… too hard of an effect on him, and Brendan had no clear idea of what to make of that at all.
***
When it came down to it, Founder's Day didn't matter. Gaeta was on the ground; Brendan was in space. So Brendan let the whole subject go and concentrated on flying and his duties, and the clouds and sometimes-blue sky of New Caprica. In fact, he managed to not think about it at all, which was why it was such a shock to his system when he saw Gaeta again, several months after Founder's Day, standing on the edge of the airfield as Brendan landed a Raptor.
"Hey, Gaeta!" he said, amazed that even after months, his body remembered exactly how much he'd liked dancing with him. "Come to meet me with flowers and open arms?"
"Funny, Hot Dog," Gaeta said, laughing. "Come to meet the people you brought down with you."
"Oh." Brendan looked over his shoulder at the two ships' captains who were huddled into thick coats, although today was warm by New Caprican standards. "Nice day."
"I know," Gaeta said. "Break out the swimsuits and flip-flops. We'll start digging a community pool right away."
Brendan glanced over at the tent city. "I hear you guys have been busy over there," he said, hoping to see Gaeta's face light up the way it had on Founder's Day.
He was disappointed. Gaeta sighed, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Not as busy as I'd like," he admitted. "Frustrating is an understatement."
"Is it that bad?"
Gaeta glanced at the ships' captains that Brendan had brought down with him. "No," he said, and there was something about Gaeta's face that suggested he was lying. "I should probably get them over to Colonial One."
"Yeah. Hey, listen." Brendan couldn't believe that he was asking this, but his mouth was moving without his consent. "I have something of a shore leave tonight. If you're homesick for Galactica at all, want to meet up for dinner?"
Gaeta blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Great. I'll see you tonight?" Brendan asked. Gaeta nodded and then went over to Brendan's passengers. Brendan watched him, wondering how in the hell he was going to get through the day when he just really wanted to get to the night.
***
Colonial One looked a little out of place sitting on the hill. Brendan still thought it was strange to see it on the ground, with the hatches open like doors. He was walking up the hill to it when Gaeta came walking down, removing his tie from underneath his coat and swearing under his breath.
"You okay?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta startled, like he was surprised to see Brendan there. "Yeah, sorry. It's been one of those days." He blinked for a long moment, and then shook himself. "Right. Dinner."
Brendan had the very unflattering feeling that Gaeta had forgotten altogether, but there was no way he could actually say that, especially with Gaeta fiddling with the open collar of his coat. A small triangle of skin was exposed at his throat, and Brendan couldn't rip his eyes away from it. "Right," he managed to say. "I have to be honest, I don't know what you guys do for dinner around here."
"Normally I make something that pretends to be soup," Gaeta said. "I can follow a recipe just fine, but cooking without one tends to be a bit of a crapshoot. I have some leftovers of something that was actually edible, if you want, or we could go over to the community tent."
"Soup's fine," Brendan said. He suspected that the community tent would be loud, and he really wanted to jump on this opportunity to get to know Gaeta better. "So, frustrating day?"
"There was a time I once considered patience to be one of my virtues," Gaeta said, walking down toward the tent city. "Ever since we came to New Caprica, I've learned I was wrong."
"Patience is overrated," Brendan said absently, looking around. The day was warm, and that apparently meant mud. His boots squelched in it, and he could see mud splattered up on the walls of the tents. New Caprica was a lot dirtier than he had ever really noticed.
"This is me," Gaeta said, holding the flap to a tent open. Brendan stepped inside and looked around interestedly.
It was a small tent, smaller than most of them. The furniture was arranged neatly, the bed made with military-approved precision. Brendan stared at the bed for a little longer than he should and then flushed and looked away. Gaeta hadn't noticed; he was rummaging in what looked like an insulated box. He pulled out a container and put it on a small gas stove to cook.
"Take your coat off," Gaeta suggested. "Just toss it on the bed."
Brendan did so. The tent was close and warm as the little stove got going, but it still seemed cold, and Brendan soon realized why. There was only one picture, and other than that there was nothing about this place that was personal. Very little color, very few mementos. He was about to say something when he noticed Gaeta lighting candles.
His throat closed, and his stomach tightened with nerves.
Gaeta smiled self-deprecatingly over one shoulder at him. "I hope you don't mind dining by candlelight," he said. "I'm not trying to seduce you, but although we've got some power, we don't have a lot of light bulbs. Crazy, isn't it?" He sighed, pulling out the chair at his desk for Brendan and sitting down on his bed and shrugging off his coat. His shirt was rumpled and stained underneath, and Brendan could see where the elbow had been mended.
"It's all right," Brendan said. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "So patience is a requirement on New Caprica, huh?"
Gaeta huffed a sigh as he leaned forward to stir the soup. "Something like that. Of course, if I had my way, the city would look like Mykanos right now. Were you ever there?" Brendan wasn't even sure what planet the city had been on, but he just shook his head. "It was beautiful. Lots of marble, a lot of columns and spires and top heavy buildings… I loved it. Of course," he added with a cynical smile, "it also had one of the highest crime rates on Picon."
"Was that where you were from?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta smiled that slightly sarcastic smile again, and Brendan felt a shiver go down his spine at the sight of it. "Nope. Halfway around the world."
"Went there often?" Brendan asked, curious.
"Never, until I was in the Academy." Gaeta pulled out two tin bowls and a pair of spoons from a crate-like box that obviously served double duty as a table. "Had a boyfriend who lived there."
"Yeah?" That cheered Brendan a bit. He'd been sure that Gaeta was into guys, but there was always that chance he'd pretend or something, if he wasn't interested. "Serious?"
"I thought so, until he-" Gaeta cut himself off and shook his head. "Yeah. It didn't end well."
"Sorry." Brendan rubbed the back of his neck. "He cheat on you or something?"
"Something like that," Gaeta said, and Brendan finally got the hint Gaeta didn't want to talk about it.
"Oh. Well, men are scum, can't live with them, all that," he said. "Had any better luck since then?"
Gaeta snorted. "No."
Brendan remembered hearing someone- Helo, he thought- commenting that if you ever wanted to find the biggest asshole in a room, figure out who Gaeta was attracted to. Brendan was suddenly really glad he hadn't seriously thought something was going to happen tonight. He relaxed a little more, and Gaeta handed him his bowl of soup. "So," Brendan said, "if not Mykanos, what is New Caprica going to look like?"
He spent the rest of their dinner together listening to Gaeta talk about structural plans and development, infrastructure and drainage. Eventually it became like when they'd been dancing on Founder's Day: the bitterness ebbed from Gaeta's face, leaving him excited and hopeful. Brendan really, really liked seeing him like that, and although the conversation was pretty one-way, he was enjoying himself anyway.
At least, until Gaeta finished his soup and looked at his watch. "I can't believe I've been talking so long. Sorry about that."
"It's all right," Brendan said. "It was interesting."
"Right." Gaeta clearly didn't believe him. "It's been nice to catch up, and I really hate to be rude and kick you out, but I have an… appointment tonight."
"Frak, you work hard."
"Something like that." Gaeta didn't smile.
"Oh, so it's not work then?" Brendan teased. "A little hot illicit sex?" This time Gaeta did flush- just a little- and Brendan sighed to himself. "Have fun," he said. "Don't do anything I'd do."
"You said that before," Gaeta said, recovering his composure. "What exactly would you do?"
Brendan laughed. "Pretty much anyone. And on that note… have a good night."
"You too."
Brendan scooped his jacket off the bed and flung it over his shoulder, winked at Gaeta, and ducked out of the tent.
Well, damn. Now what was he going to do with the rest of his night?
***
Eventually he found himself in a tent that had been set up as something of a bar. It was much bigger than Gaeta's tent and hung with some fairly colorful blankets. It was crowded and smoky, but as Brendan bought a bottle and pushed in through the crowd, he noticed a few familiar faces.
"Hot Dog! Over here!"
Narcho was sitting at a table with a man who looked vaguely familiar. Both of them were wearing civilian clothing, even though Brendan knew at least Narcho was still military. He pushed through the crowd and plopped into a seat. "Frak," he said. "It's crowded. What are you doing down here tonight, Narcho?"
"Shore leave," Narcho said with a grin. "Commander Adama kicked my ass out for the night."
"After you begged and pleaded," the other man said, and his voice extremely familiar. "Because you were late putting your form in."
"Which is why he kicked my ass of the Pegasus. He didn’t want to deal with me without you around to keep me in check. Oh, Louis, do you know Hot Dog?"
"I don't know that we've met in person." The man extended his hand. "Louis Hoshi."
That was why the voice was so familiar. "Nice to actually meet you," Brendan said. "You still dealing with that rash?"
Hoshi blinked for a minute, and then laughed. "That was all Twofer's invention," he insisted. "Trust me."
"I'm just always surprised when you Pegasus guys have a sense of humor," Brendan explained.
"Yeah, well, we're always surprised when you Galactica pilots can fly straight without crashing into something," Narcho riposted cheerfully. "What's got you down here for the night, Hot Dog?"
"Had a shuttle run, and then orders to pick up some supplies tomorrow and bring 'em back up to Galactica."
"You're on your own?" Hoshi asked.
"Yup." Brendan made a face. "Was kind of hoping not to be, but here I am."
"Well then," Narcho said, his smile deepening, "join us for a drink."
***
"So then the blonde says to the bartender, 'You like that? You ought to try the sausage!'"
Brendan howled with laughter, reaching for what he was fairly certain was his glass. It wasn't supposed to be moving, but with concentration, he could make it stop. At least long enough to grab it.
He kicked Hoshi under the table. "You aren't laughing."
"I've heard it," Hoshi said with a long-suffering sigh. "Many times."
"Yeah? How long have you guys been together?" Brendan asked.
Hoshi blinked. "You know?"
"You guys might not be as obvious as half the Galactica crew is, but he's got his hand on your knee and you only think that's his shin you keep running your foot down," Brendan said. "What? Is it a secret?"
"Not anymore," Narcho said, shuffling the deck of cards they'd been playing with, "but Admiral Cain was very strict about fraternization."
"But you're both lieutenants, right?" Brendan asked, confused.
"Doesn't matter much," Narcho said.
"Then how'd you get together?" Brendan asked.
Narcho smirked. "Cain doesn't know everything. Especially what goes on in storage lockers."
If Narcho wasn't a kindred spirit, Brendan didn't know who was. "Okay," Brendan said. "I've got to ask. I've seen some porn and all, but I didn't know many guys who were into guys on Libran, y'know? We were all about the tits. And I'm not really asking this to be rude, but… what the frak do you guys do? I mean, for real?"
"What, like a blow-by-blow?" Narcho asked, grinning evilly at the unintended but fully appropriate double entendre. Hoshi just looked thoughtful.
"That's exactly what I mean," Brendan said. He couldn’t believe he was actually asking this, but his mouth seemed to be moving without consulting with his brain at all. Not that he wasn't used to that, but this was even worse than usual. "I mean, is it all butt sex and that sort of stuff? Or more blow jobs?"
"Depends on the guys, I guess," Narcho said with a shrug. "Me, I've always believed in a healthy mix of anal, oral, and… frak, Louis, what do you keep calling hand jobs?"
"Manual," Hoshi said with a sigh. "And there's frottage, too." He made a face, apparently remembering he was a bridge bunny talking to pilots. "Dry humping."
"Oh." That was something Brendan had never considered. He imagined lying on top of Gaeta, and a shiver of arousal hit him hard.
"Yeah." Narcho glanced at Hoshi, and Brendan wondered just how long they'd been together that they could have a silent conversation and seem to understand each other perfectly. "We could show you, if you want."
Brendan had always wanted to do a threesome, but he'd also always imagined two hot girls (or hell, even just two girls) would figure in. And he'd always secretly thought that it was really only something that happened in the Letters to the Editor columns of porn magazines. So for once, he was completely lost for words. "I… um…"
"No hard feelings if you don't," Narcho said, "and the offer can stay open."
"Wow." Brendan picked up his glass and bolted it all. "Yeah. It's just… it's not that you're not really hot, right?" he said, looking more at Narcho than at Hoshi, who wasn't, but Brendan wasn't that choosy. "But I'm just still figuring all this stuff you, you know? I thought it would just be girls all my life, and then I found this out and… frak." He dropped his head into his hands. Annoyingly, his erection pointed out that the idea of sleeping with two guys might be more exciting than scary, but he firmly told it to shut the frak up. "This isn't coming out right."
"No, it makes sense." Hoshi leaned forward. "You're operating under the assumption that most people do; that once you reach a conclusion about some aspect of yourself, it's set in stone. But people are fluid."
"Little words, Louis," Narcho said. "We're pilots."
"Funny." Hoshi focused hard on Brendan. "Have you ever heard of Fowler's five stages of faith?"
"Huh?"
"Fowler's five stages of faith. People always assume that their belief in the gods is something that shouldn't waver, ever, but that's not what happens."
"That's all very nice, but this isn't about the gods," Brendan pointed out. "This is about my dick."
"I'm being metaphorical," Hoshi huffed. "Let me finish. See, Fowler broke faith down into five stages: intuitive-projective, mythic-literal, synthetic-conventional, individ… individua… oh, frak, something-reflective, and conjective faith."
"Baby, this is not clearing things up," Narcho said.
"Only because you two keep interrupting me. It does make sense. See, the first one, intuitive? That's when you believe what you believe because… well, everyone else believes it. You accept it because it's what you're taught and what you're expected to think."
"Wait, I get it," Narcho said. "Like just assuming that because all the guys around you like chicks, that's exactly what you're gonna do, too?"
"Exactly," Hoshi said, nodding. "But then comes mystic-lyrical. No, wait, literal. Anyway, that's when you start to look at stories- or in this case, your own physical reactions, probably- and take them on for yourself."
Brendan tried to think about that. "It sort of makes sense, but sort of not."
"It will. Third is the synthetic-conventional phase, and this is when you really start questioning and rebelling. Where you really start tearing things down. It's kind of a backlash and a precursor at the same time to… oh frak… indu… idivi- frak it!"
"Individuative?" Narcho attempted.
Hoshi smacked the table so hard the liquid in his glass sloshed. "Yes! That's it! Indi-whatever you said. Reflective faith. That one's kind of what it sounds like, where you're doing a lot of personal reflection, maturing, all that good stuff. Deciding what things really are to you. And the fifth is conjective faith."
"Acceptance?" Brendan tried.
"Integration."
Brendan thought about it. "So, let me get this straight. What you're saying is that… what are you saying?"
"In short? It will take a long time but you'll get it," Hoshi said with a shrug. "If it makes you feel any better, it was hard for me, too."
"It's always hard for me," Narcho said mournfully.
Hoshi back-fisted him lightly in the chest. "That's not what I mean, you twit, and you know it. I'm Gemenese," he explained to Brendan. "There are some lines in the Scrolls that most of the Colonies consider bullshit, but…" he shrugged. "I get it."
"How do you know all this?" Brendan asked. "The five stages and all that?"
Hoshi turned a little red. "I used to be a chaplain."
"Really?"
"That was a long time ago. I've been CIC for several years." Hoshi looked at Narcho and sighed. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think all this talk about sex has gotten my partner here all hot and bothered, and I'd better go do some of those things that started this whole conversation in the first place. Unless you want to join us?"
"Have fun," Brendan said with something like a smile. "Don't do anything I'd do."
"From the sounds of it, that's really not a problem," Narcho leered. He grabbed Hoshi's hand. "Come on, baby. Let's go."
Brendan watched them go, and then dropped his head onto the table. His head spun, and he thought maybe he'd just pass out here for the night.
***
There was some truth, Brendan knew, in what Hoshi said. Libran wasn't the ass-end of the universe, but Patras was definitely near enough to the ass-end of Libran. Same-sex marriages happened every now and then, and it wasn't really frowned on… but quite the opposite was just assumed. A wife, children a job… this was the life that Brendan had just assumed would materialize.
And there was no reason to think that it wouldn't. Brendan liked women. A lot. He liked the way they smelled, the way they looked, the way they felt against him. He'd never felt that anything was missing in his sex life (well, except quantity), and he'd never longed to have something up his ass or a cock in his moth. Women, he was fairly certain, were the greatest invention that the gods had ever come up with- although he wouldn't have minded if one or two more of them had reached that conclusion about him.
But if he was honest- really honest- he had a few memories. That pyramid player in high school that he never let himself look at. The guy in the office who he didn't like to let his hands touch, because it sent chills down his spine. Occasional stolen glances in the showers at Narcho himself, telling himself that he just envied the other man's physique. The clues might be infrequent and ignored, but they were there, when he let himself remember them.
And then there was Felix Gaeta, who had more of an impact on Brendan than anyone- anyone- had before. And Brendan was positive he wasn't even registering on Gaeta's DRADIS.
But then the Cylons found them, and Brendan didn't have time for anything like that to matter.
***
The Demetrius loomed in front of the Raptor, clunky and square. "Gods," Pike groaned, "I can smell it from here."
"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Seelix asked.
"Combat pay," Pike drawled. Brendan ignored them, shifting in his seat for a better view. Two months. He hoped this wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had.
They docked. The landing bay was small, with barely enough room to maneuver themselves and their gear out of the Raptor. Brendan had to admit that Pike was probably right about the smell. He wrinkled his nose.
"Welcome to the Demetrius," Helo was saying as they filed past him. He bowed slightly. "I will be serving as your XO today. Your captain with be Starbuck, and Mr. Gaeta will be serving as your navigator. Food and beverages will be provided on this nonstop flight to Earth. We hope you enjoy travelling with us."
"You are such a dork," Gaeta said dryly, pushing by Helo and holding a clipboard. He was wearing his duty blues, but he was sweating so heavily Brendan bet that he wouldn't be wearing the jacket long.
The others relaxed a little as the tone for the journey was set, but Brendan found that he couldn't. There was a tension in the air already; an air of distrust and the unspoken thought that this was insane. He gripped his bag tighter, tossed it over his shoulder, and made his way into the cramped confines of the ship.
The crew's racks were all in one room. Brendan squeezed in and tossed his gear on a bed. "Frak," Seelix said from behind him. "Can you imagine living in this shithole for the past four years?"
"Guess we're gonna get a first hand education," Brendan said. "At least you don't have to worry about stinking up the head."
"Funny," Seelix said dryly, but someone behind Brendan snorted. He turned to see Gaeta, still buttoned up, still with his clipboard.
"Captain Thrace wants us all in the mess hall," he informed them.
"Yes, sir."
Gaeta didn't move out, and Brendan squeezed by him. As he passed, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He shivered.
***
Starbuck was talking, and Brendan knew he should be paying attention, but it was hard. Really hard his brain snickered, but Brendan was used to ignoring himself. He was pretending to watch Starbuck, but in reality, his eyes were fixed on Gaeta.
He had seen Gaeta since New Caprica. At first, it had taken Brendan a long time to have the guts to even speak to him. Not because of the collaborator thing, but because of the piece that had appeared in the papers shortly after, about Gaeta being the inside source. That took guts and smarts and a kind of courage Brendan knew he didn't have, and why would someone like that want to talk to someone like him? Besides, every time they were in the same room, his cock essentially decided to serve as a divining rod. It was uncomfortable, in more ways than one.
Narcho thought it was all hysterical, and Brendan just really needed to get laid by a guy to sort this all out. Hoshi was sympathetic, but even his patience was running out. And Racetrack, the only other person that had any clue what was really going on in Brendan's head since Kat had died, veered between sisterly concern and ribbing him mercilessly, generally depending on her state of sobriety.
Gaeta was standing at ease right now, to the left of Starbuck. He was still in his duty blues, but he'd opened the jacket collar. He wasn't looking at anyone, and Brendan had the suspicion his thoughts were far away. Brendan wondered if he'd left anyone back on Galactica, or even in the Fleet. He hadn't heard any gossip, but that didn't mean a damn thing, especially considering how low of a profile Hoshi and Narcho still managed to keep. And Gaeta would be like them- discreet and not wanting the entire crew speculating and even betting on his love life. Brendan was sure of that.
Starbuck turned the floor over to Helo. Helo, in a voice that said he was trying to be everyone's best friend, was outlining the various duties that would have to be tended to over the next two months. Piloting, ship maintenance, the mess, the cleaning… and the sewage. Brendan wasn't alone in his groans- the entire crew seemed to be displeased about that one. He saw Gaeta close his eyes.
Helo was giving people the chance to sign up for shifts. At first, Brendan thought the idea was crazy- this was the frakking military after all, you just did what you were told- but Helo explained that it was really pick your poison: sign up for the sewage shift you wanted, or be assigned the ones no one wanted. There was definitely a rush to sign up.
By the time the sheet came to him, most of the "good shifts"- the ones during the day- were full. But Brendan didn't care. Because the name "Felix Gaeta" was neatly written at the top of an empty night shift list. Brendan smiled, and added his name right underneath.
***
"It's a shitty job, but someone's got to do it." The concentrated smell nearly knocked Brendan over when he walked into the recycling control room, but he managed to rally
Gaeta was sitting on a stool, studying a star chart. He looked up with a scowl. "That's seven."
"Huh?"
"Seven times I've heard that joke already, and we've been out of the Fleet less than forty-eight hours."
"Oh. Sorry," Brendan said. Of course it was the seventh time Gaeta had heard the joke- it was funny. But Brendan always figured humor wasn't something that could be explained, and Gaeta didn't seem like he was in the mood for jokes. At all. In fact, he just turned back to his work, barely acknowledging that Brendan was in the room. He had discarded the duty blues and was wearing his tanks and BDU bottoms, and he was glistening with sweat like everyone else. Brendan heartily wished that BDU bottoms were better at camouflaging erections, and settled down onto the other stool to hide the evidence under the table. Gaeta flicked a glance at him, and Brendan picked up the instruction manual. The pages were wrinkled and stained with brown splotches that he didn't even want to think about, but reading the manual at least gave him something to do. Gaeta settled back down to his star chart, and silence settled over the control room.
It wasn't what Brendan had hoped for- although sex wasn't either, against this backdrop and on duty- but at least the silence felt companionable. He read the manual in the dim light, stealing glances at Gaeta throughout the four hour shift.
***
"So then the blonde says to the bartender, 'You like that? You ought to try the sausage!'"
Gaeta snorted appreciatively, dealing the cards. "I've heard that one before, but it never gets old."
"I know, right?" Brendan said delightedly. "I actually know a guy who doesn't laugh when he hears it."
"You're kidding."
"Yeah, well, he's a priest type," Brendan explained. He took the hand that Gaeta had dealt him. Bunch of shit.
"Priest types don't have much of a sense of humor," Gaeta agreed. It was just the two of them in the space that served as the mess hall and the rec room in one; the others were either on duty or asleep. It was becoming a bit of a ritual- two nights a week they unwound together this way. Brendan had managed to get his hands on a bottle of liquor, and whenever that was the case he always saved it for those nights. He reached over and refilled both their glasses.
"Have you heard the one about the horse and the prostitute?" Brendan asked.
Gaeta rolled his eyes, but he laughed at the same time. "Many times. Okay, I've got one. A girl invited her new boyfriend over for dinner, and told him her parents were going out afterwards. So on his way over, the boy stopped at the pharmacy and asked for advice in selecting a condom. When he sat down at the dinner table, he began praying. After several minutes, the girl said, 'Hey, you've been praying a long time. I didn't know that you were so religious.' And the boy said, 'I'm not praying. I just didn't know that your father was a pharmacist.'"
Brendan gave Gaeta his best that's not funny glare. "What?" Gaeta asked.
"Things like that happen, you know."
"What?" Gaeta pulled back.
"I'm serious," Brendan said. "Same think happened to me when I was in high school. Her father ended up chasing me out with a shotgun and a pair of pit bulls."
"Frak. That's…" Gaeta looked horrified, and Brendan finally let himself crack a smile. "Wait a minute. You're frakking with me."
"Took you long enough," Brendan laughed.
"Frak that. You know, you're one hell of a bluffer." Brendan flushed under the compliment, and Gaeta rearranged his hand. "Where'd you learn, anyway?"
"Believe it or not, my mother," Brendan said, and for once, it was him that didn't feel like discussing the subject any further. Thinking about his mother and his sisters still hurt. Gaeta must have caught on, because he didn't press the subject any further. Silence fell over them again as they played their game, and Brendan relaxed. Well, as best as he could relax around Gaeta.
At the beginning of this mission, Brendan had half-hoped that being around Gaeta this much would make this all just go away. Not that he had anything against guys liking guys, of course. Narcho and Hoshi were as good of guys as you could ever come across, and Brendan was flat-out proud to fly with the one and be called home by the other. But that didn't mean that he was any more comfortable with the idea, or anything that it entailed. Not when he was talking about himself. And maybe being around Gaeta… it was obvious that someone like Gaeta- brilliant, confident, and ambitious- would never be interested in someone like Brendan, who'd spent a good part of his life as a second-class frak up.
However, being around Gaeta constantly had the exact opposite effect. Right now, Brendan watched as Gaeta neatly swept the cards into a pile, shuffling them with slender fingers. It was strange to look at another man's hands and imagine them wrapped around his cock, but it was also really, really hard not to. And Brendan noticed that Gaeta kept his nails short and smooth; not ragged like his own. He wondered, if he was going to go through with some of the stuff that Hoshi and Narcho had told him about, if he should stop biting his nails. Or at least make sure they were never ragged.
Gaeta frowned slightly at his hand. "Can I ask you something on an entirely different subject?"
"Ask me anything," Brendan invited.
Gaeta ignored the insinuation entirely. "Why did you volunteer for this frakked up mission?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you come? Do you really believe in Earth? Or in Starbuck? Or were you just ordered to come?"
"Oh. Well, yeah, I believe in Earth," Brendan said. "Who doesn't? At least, a little? But nah. I figured it would look good on my resume."
"I'm serious," Gaeta said.
"So am I. If we don't ever find Earth- and we may not- the Fleet's just going to keep going, and one day, I might not be able to pilot. Either we won't have enough birds or I'll get hurt or something. I knew that on a ship this small, I'd pick up some things like nav and controls and stuff. So if that day ever comes that I can't fly, I can at least still be useful."
"Everyone's useful."
"No, they aren't. Believe me- back before I joined up, I spent the days sitting on a carrier and basically shivering in fear. I did what I could, but I didn't have anything to do. Even during New Caprica, I still was a pilot. I don't want to go back to that nothing again."
Gaeta swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Guess I can see that."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Gaeta snorted. "I was ordered here."
"Kind of figured that," Brendan said. "You don't seem to think much of Starbuck."
"I can't stand her," Gaeta said flatly.
"Still," Brendan prompted, "there must be at least a few good things about this mission."
Gaeta glared at his drink. "There's absolutely nothing good about this mission. Nothing." He sighed and put his hand down. "I fold, and I'm sick of getting cleaned out by you. I'm going to bed. Have a good night, Hot Dog." He stood up, and walked to the bunks with only the slightest wobble in his step.
Well, what had Brendan been expecting he'd say? He chewed viciously on a fingernail, and then poured himself another drink.
***
"The thing is," Brendan said, vaguely aware his words were slurring, "I'm not gay. Bisexual. Big difference."
"What's the difference?" Athena asked, more interested in the glass that she'd taken up from where Gaeta had been sitting than the conversation.
"Tits," Brendan explained. "I still like tits. And I've always got that option."
"The option of tits?" Athena asked, smirking evilly.
"Funny. Sleeping with tits. With someone who has them, I mean. Like you. You have great tits."
"I think that was a compliment."
"Was. But this bisexual thing… it frakking sucks."
"What's so bad about it?" Athena said with a shrug. "It's not like anyone cares."
"They care," Brendan said portentously. "Everyone cares about sex on Galactica."
"Only because they can make money off betting on it."
"The thing is," Brendan said, "I thought maybe I'd have a chance, right? Two months is a long time to go without a frak, and there are only two hot guys on this ship."
"True," Athena agreed. She knocked back the liquor and poured herself another shot.
"And Helo's married to you, and Pike is a frak."
Athena wrinkled her nose. "You think Pike is hot?"
"He's not bad," Brendan confessed. "At least of the guys here. Who'd you think I meant?"
"Sam Anders."
"Oh." Brendan considered that. "No."
"Biceps," Athena said knowingly, like this was the most important thing ever.
"Married to Starbuck. The guy's a frakking doormat."
"Says the guy mooning after Baltar's long standing boy toy," Athena pointed out. This was not a new conversation to her.
"It's different. Felix honestly believes that people are good by default. Anders just thinks with his dick."
"Takes one to know one," Athena sighed.
"Are you done making fun me?"
"Not by a long shot. I'm a Cylon who's in love with a human. Forgive me if I don't find your plight all that unique."
She was right. Brendan leaned forward eagerly. "That's right," he said. "What was it like?"
Athena glared at him levelly. "They wanted to kill me," she said. "Both sides. I promise you that nothing like that is going to happen to you."
"No. I know that." Brendan tried to school his thoughts into coherence. "But when you realized you wanted him… was that weird at all?" Athena opened her mouth, but Brendan cut her off before she could make some scathing remark. "Look, I'm just saying. This isn't what I thought I'd be into, you know? I just always… assumed, I guess. And it's not I'm so afraid of what everyone's gonna say, because I know that it's no big deal on most worlds, right? And people already think I'll frak anything."
"I'm frankly impressed that you're holding out for Gaeta instead of going for a sheep," Athena said.
Brendan snorted. "So I get that. But it's just… it's not me, you know? Except I guess it is."
Athena sighed and poured herself another drink. "I see what you're getting at," she finally said, swirling her glass. "And yeah. I… before… I don't know what I thought. I don't think I thought about the future much, but consensus was so easy between us… and so natural. And when I actually met Helo, when we were together on Caprica," she shook her head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, it wasn't me. But it was. It was the first time I felt real."
"Is it normal now? How you feel? Are you used to it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Athena shrugged. "I don't know. I just did. But then," her smile twisted, "it helps that I actually had Helo. Whether I wanted to admit it or let him in or what, I had him. And having that sort of love… it makes you strong enough to deal with anything about yourself."
"Would be nice," Brendan admitted wistfully.
"You've really got it bad, haven't you?"
"What does it matter?" Brendan asked. "It's been seven weeks, and it entered his head that I'm interested."
"Nothing is registering with Felix these days," Athena said kindly. "Hang in there, tiger. There are only so many men left in the universe."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Brendan focused on his watch, blinking several times to make sure he read it right. "Frak. I'd better sleep this off. Thanks."
"Any time," Athena said, tipping her glass.
"Athena?" Brendan asked as he hovered by the door.
"I won't say anything," Athena assured him.
Brendan smiled. "Thanks. It's not the gay thing," he qualified. "It's the fact he's not interested. I think I'd rather go on having people make bets about the sheep. How much is it up to, anyway?"
"Forty seven cubits."
"Forty seven? Makes me want to put my bet in and do it," he sighed. "Good night."
***
The gunshot still echoed in Brendan's head, hours later. It erased everything that had come before it. All the anger, all the confusion and frustration and everything Starbuck had said and done was wiped away by worry. The atmosphere aboard the Demetrius was tense, heavy with waiting. Brendan flipped a switch idly on the console, but the truth was there was nothing he could do. Not until Starbuck and Athena returned… or until the clock ran out.
Five hours and twenty two minutes left. Brendan swore to himself, and then without a word to anyone, strode into the bunkroom.
Gaeta wasn't asleep, but he wasn't really conscious, either. He looked at Brendan through half-slitted eyes, his complexion was gray, and he was sweating. Brendan sat down in a chair that Helo must have left near the bed.
"Hey," Brendan said awkwardly, trying to talk around the lump in his throat. Gaeta didn't answer. "I've got a new joke for you." He moved over and sat down by the bed. He thought he saw a spark of recognition in Gaeta's eyes, but he couldn't be sure. "Okay. What do you call a positively charged kitten? A cation. Get it?" No response. "Yeah, I don't, either. Hoshi told me that one when he was drunk. When he gets drunk he forgets not everyone is as smart as him. Not that different from how he is sober, come to think of it." He thought he saw a flicker of a smile, and shifted a little closer. "Okay. Here's another one from Hoshi. See if you can make sense of it. What is the name of the molecule bunny-O-bunny?" Silence. "Yeah, I never would have guessed it either. An ether bunny." He sighed. "I still don't get it."
Gaeta closed his eyes. Maybe he got it and it was just that bad, but as a shudder wracked his frame, Brendan suspected that he was just in too much pain to be listening.
He hesitated, and then leaned forward and touched Gaeta's forehead. It was burning hot, and Gaeta moaned in pain at the touch. Risking the contents of his stomach, Brendan looked down at Gaeta's shattered leg. He choked as the gorge rose and closed his own eyes, trying to bite everything back.
Gaeta's breathing was evening out, and Brendan looked back at his face. His eyes were closed, and although he didn't look remotely peaceful, he was unconscious. With a sigh, Brendan stood back up and went back out into the control room.
"We have to get Gaeta back to the Galactica," Brendan informed Helo. "Now."
"I know," Helo said glumly. He was pretending to study a star chart, but Brendan could see he was really staring at the clock. "But we can't leave now."
"We have to," Brendan insisted. "If we don't, he's going to die."
"And if we do, not only might Sharon and Kara die, but all hope of Earth as well." Helo's jaw was set. "I'm sorry for Felix, but I don't really have a choice."
Brendan wanted to argue it, that Helo did have choices. Like jumping back to Galactica, and then jumping back here. Or using a Raptor. But Helo must have thought of these ideas and seen flaws in them that Brendan didn't get, so he held his tongue and nodded.
"We'll get him home," Helo said, and then sighed. "I just can't promise it will be in one piece."
***
Brenda knew there were people who were eager to see him back from the mission. Narcho and Hoshi, Racetrack, even Twofer and Showboat. But instead of going to the rec room, Brendan climbed into his Viper. His hadn't been one of the few they'd taken with them, and he'd missed his own cockpit, where the picture of his family was taped to the console. He slid in with a bone-weary thump, looking around blindly.
Then he put his head on his arms and broke down and cried.
***
On to Part 2