Flying High
Title: Flying High
Author: kappamaki33
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Even after the Circle is broken up and all are technically forgiven for their parts in the New Caprica debacle, tensions are still running high on Galactica. Some of the crew try to find relief in unusual places.
Pairing: Narcho/Gaeta
Characters: Narcho, Gaeta, Helo, Racetrack, Kat, mentions of Starbuck and a male OC
Spoilers: Through “Torn.”
Notes: This is for safenthecity ’s first “Never Will I Ever” prompt, “Gaeta/Narcho, as the writers intended.” My first bunny kind of hopped away on me as I plotted, though I may try to corral it again someday. This one actually was sparked by the pornbattle prompt, Gaeta/Narcho, “How’d you get your wings?”, but it didn’t turn out porny, nor did I finish it in time. I really like these two together, and I had ideas for more scenes, but this was the only place that I could find an ending. Anyway, I might come back to this ‘verse with a ficlet or two later on.
Flying High
“Did you see how I made that ninety-degree rotation and flipped end-to-end at the same time, and came right out of it to get that asteroid dead to rights?” Racetrack crowed to her companions, walking backwards so she could use her hands to demonstrate the maneuver for them. Narcho bit his lip to keep from laughing; Racetrack was so gleeful she was practically skipping.
“I gotta admit, I’ve never seen a Raptor do something like that before,” Kat said, sliding between two civilians chatting in the busy hall and jogging a couple steps to catch up.
“If it’d been a Viper, we would’ve called that a Devil’s Pike,” said Narcho. It had been too show-offy of a move for a mere training session, he thought to himself, but it wasn’t like that had ever stopped him from pulling off a stunt in a practice scenario just to prove he could. “You sure you weren’t a Viper jock in another life? You don’t fly like any Raptor pilot I’ve ever known.”
Helo grinned and put an arm around Racetrack’s shoulders, which made Racetrack beam even more. “Well then you obviously don’t know any Galactica Raptor wranglers.”
Helo and Racetrack nearly fell over when a civilian and two people in BDUs barreled into them from behind, not even bothering to say sorry before they continued their chase down the hall.
“Hey, watch it, idiots!” Racetrack yelled at them as they disappeared into the throng.
“Maybe we should move our celebration somewhere a little less crowded,” Helo said.
“That’s why we left the rec room,” Narcho grumbled.
Kat pointed at the hatch to a bunkroom. “Hey, most of the bridge bunnies in Duty Locker 301 should be on shift now, right?”
They exchanged glances. When no one else came up with a better idea, Kat pulled open the hatch, and the four invaded what was usually enemy territory.
“Man, bridge bunnies keep their bunkrooms cleaner than pilots do,” Racetrack said as she plopped down on a rack, leaned back against the wall, and nudged a chair into position so she could use it as a footrest. Gaeta, the only bridge bunny home, looked up long enough to glare at all four before hunching over the stack of papers on the worktable again.
“No kidding,” said Narcho as he sat on the rack beside her and followed suit. He unscrewed the lid on the bottle of hooch he’d brought along and took a swig. “Hey Gaeta, did you have to pass an anal retentiveness test to work in CIC along with all those math and engineering exams?”
Gaeta gave him an odd look, like he couldn’t figure out whether Narcho was just making a typical crass pilot joke or whether he was laying the groundwork for real humiliation.
That’s when it hit Narcho that Gaeta’s initial glare hadn’t really been the near eye-roll of enlightened superiority one usually got from CIC crew. There had been some animal fear in it, like a dog growling when he’s backed into a corner. It was understandable, Narcho supposed. If the rumors were true, it couldn’t have been much more than a week since Tigh and Starbuck and some other New Capricans had tried to toss him out an airlock.
Helo apparently recognized the look on Gaeta’s face, too, because he bailed Gaeta out of having to answer. “Hey Narcho, is it true that all Viper jocks are, uh, compensating for something?” He grinned around his lollypop as he leaned against the bunk ladder. “Do they make that part of the physical exam?”
Kat punched Helo in the arm, and Narcho threw a pillow at him, which he disappointingly caught before it smacked him in the face. Racetrack was rolling on the bunk with laughter. “Oh gods, they are flying giant dicks, aren’t they?”
Even Gaeta smirked. He looked good when he smiled-even kind of hot. Narcho hadn’t noticed that before. Maybe it was because Gaeta hadn’t smiled much since Narcho had met him. Or maybe it was because the few times they had crossed paths that week, Narcho had been paying more attention to Gaeta’s very nice ass than anything else.
Once Helo broke the tension, it seemed Gaeta felt safe enough to fall back on standard bridge bunny snobbery. “Well, congratulations, you’ve annoyed me, mission accomplished. Can’t you go away now?”
Kat walked around the table so she could ruffle Gaeta’s curls. “Aw, don’t you love us anymore, Gaeta? We missed harassing you so much.” She finished off with what a pilot would have seen as an affectionate shove. Gaeta didn’t keep his body loose enough, so it probably hurt a little. “Plus, we need somewhere to unwind,” she added more seriously.
“What the frak’s wrong with the rec room?”
“Colonel Tigh’s holding court down there,” Helo said grimly but not nearly as bitterly as Narcho would’ve expected. “Some of the people who were on New Caprica are giving some of us who stayed in the Fleet kind of a hard time.”
Felix set down his pen and looked concerned, almost sympathetic. “Your bunkroom?”
“Starbuck. She’s even worse than the Colonel,” Kat spat. “I almost miss the way they were when they hated each other’s guts.”
“Bitch acts like having a frakked up life gives her the right to shit all over everybody else,” Narcho muttered.
“Hey,” Helo chastised, “if she’d gone through even half of what I’ve heard happened to her on New Caprica, she would’ve had her head more thoroughly frakked with than anybody in this Fleet. It’s a miracle she’s functioning at all, even if it’s ugly right now.”
Helo had a point, but it didn’t make Narcho any less pissed. “Yeah, well, that’d be a great excuse if she hadn’t been a bitch before she moved down to the planet, too.”
Narcho tipped his head back as he took another drink and caught Gaeta’s eye. There was a spark of something there, and not just agreement or commiseration-something that made Narcho puff out his chest a little bit.
Gaeta got up from the table and walked to the bunk Narcho and Racetrack were occupying. He jerked his head to the side. “You two, out. That’s my rack.”
Racetrack grumbled, stood up, and dragged the chair she’d been using as a footrest back to the table so she could sit there. Narcho didn’t move. Gaeta crossed his arms, but if Narcho wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of curiosity and something that might’ve been flirtation lurking in the way he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Out,” he repeated.
Narcho leered and settled himself even more resolutely into the mattress. “Make me.”
“Fine.” The tone was exasperated, but again, Narcho noticed a flicker of something else that was meant for his eyes only as Gaeta sat beside him on the bed. He was so close that Narcho could feel the heat radiating out from his skin, even through Gaeta’s uniform.
Gaeta held out his hand for the bottle. “Least you can do.”
Narcho tested just a little bit further, holding the bottle out and then pulling it back just as Gaeta reached for it, teasing. Gaeta’s smirk told Narcho he knew exactly what he was doing. Narcho repeated the move, each time bringing the bottle a little bit farther back until Gaeta was reaching so far across his body he was almost lying on Narcho’s chest. When Gaeta’s face was just a few inches from his, he finally let him have the booze.
Gaeta lingered longer than he really had to. “Thanks,” he said, his face still close. It didn’t occur to Narcho that he might be doing that as a distraction until he heard metal scrape. The next thing he knew, there was a tangle of legs, ending with Gaeta having wrestled away the chair Narcho had been using as a footrest, propping his own feet on the seat and winking at Narcho. All Narcho could think about was how much he’d like to frak that smug superiority right off Gaeta’s face.
It only really dawned on Narcho what kind of looks he and Gaeta were giving each other when he saw Racetrack’s intrigued expression out of the corner of his eye. Helo and Kat hadn’t noticed anything; Kat was too busy recounting her latest kill, and Helo was an attentive, polite audience.
“Speaking of Starbuck,” Narcho said, not really sure if they were still speaking of Starbuck but recalling that that’s where they had been when he’d stopped paying attention, “did you hear the latest shit on her?”
That got Kat’s attention immediately. “Ooh, what’s that?” she said, resting on her elbows and leaning forward over the table.
“You heard that a few years before the attacks, she was engaged to Adama’s younger son, kid who died in some sort of accident with his Viper? And she was his flight instructor?” Kat and Racetrack both nodded. “Turns out, she passed him even though he should’ve washed out.”
Racetrack grumbled, and Kat waved a dismissive hand. “That’s old news-ancient history. You Pegasus guys are so far out of the loop, it’s not even funny.”
Helo frowned. “Besides, I don’t think it’s true.”
“What, Starbuck’s too thoughtful and responsible to pull some shit like that?” Narcho responded. “Look, I know you two get along, but even you have to admit, she’s capable of doing some pretty frakked up things.”
Helo shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t think Kara would do that-I don’t think anyone would do that.” Narcho couldn’t help but snort and roll his eyes, but Helo pressed on. “I mean it. If you love somebody-if you even just care about somebody as a human being-you don’t pass them in something as dangerous as flight school just because you want them to be happy. You’re more concerned about them not dying.”
Narcho was pretty sure everyone in the room was as surprised as he was when Gaeta spoke up. “Well, maybe not if they’re completely incompetent, but if the instructor was just sliding them through on a point or two that wasn’t quite as perfect as it should be...what?” Gaeta looked at all the faces staring back at him in surprise. “Don’t tell me none of you has ever heard of somebody passing a student on account of them being a hot frak even though they’re a little sloppy pulling a Raptor out of a one-eighty flip turn or something?”
Narcho raised his eyebrows. “Have you?”
Gaeta’s face reddened; it appeared he’d just figured out that he’d said far, far too much. “All I’m saying is that I think some people are capable of doing it. I think Starbuck might be, too.” He stood up and looked around the room awkwardly. “I’ve got to get to work. If you want to stay, fine, just don’t trash the place.”
Narcho knew none of them bought Gaeta’s excuse as he hurried across the room, especially since he didn’t even bother to take the paperwork he’d been doing with him. Helo and Racetrack exchanged wide-eyed glances as soon as the hatch slammed shut behind Gaeta.
“Oh my frakking gods,” Racetrack half-said, half-laughed. “Cheerio’s mystery frak was Gaeta?”
“I never would’ve guessed it, but must be,” said Helo.
“Wait, wait, wait-Cheerio? What the frak are you talking about?” Kat cut in.
“Cheerio was one of the pilots that died in an accident on the hangar deck, right before they recruited your batch of nuggets,” Helo explained. “He was mainly a Raptor flight instructor, and he administered most of the exams for people trying to earn their wings.”
Racetrack, even more eager than Helo, took over and flitted her gaze back and forth between Kat and Narcho to gauge reactions. “Long before the attacks, Cheerio said he had this guy he was giving flying lessons. He was always bragging about how this student had a major kink for sex in Raptors, how he’d spend half the lesson banging this guy and the other half convincing him he didn’t know how to fly so he’d take more ‘lessons.’”
Helo added, “When the time came for that batch to take their test drives, though, everybody passed. Cheerio said he passed this guy but told him he was just getting through by the skin of his teeth and should really have more...‘hands-on training.’ I think Gaeta got his wings with that batch, but so did four dozen other people.”
Narcho was almost glad that Kat started talking, so he could have a little more time to process this new information. “Huh. So Gaeta has a thing for Raptors? I never woulda thought he had kinks. He’s not the type.”
Racetrack leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, if Gaeta’s the one Cheerio was talking about, he has kinks. And not just a thing for Raptors-what he did in those Raptors.... ‘Course, Cheerio might’ve been exaggerating about that part.”
“Would’ve been like him,” Helo agreed.
“I’ve gotta piss,” Narcho announced abruptly. He stood up and handed Racetrack his booze, hoping maybe that would keep her from making any guesses about what he was really leaving for. “Drank too much. You guys staying here for awhile?”
Helo and Kat exchanged somewhat confused glances. “I think so....”
Narcho nodded, hiding his disappointment at that, and headed out into the hall. It took a few minutes to find him, especially since he had to push through the dense stream of civilians and crewmembers that seemed to be wandering around everywhere, but luckily, Gaeta hadn’t gotten very far.
“Hey, Gaeta!” Narcho yelled over the crowd. Gaeta stopped, looked back, and followed Narcho when he nodded toward a side corridor with less traffic. They stood to one side.
“Regs say anybody who doesn’t fly for more than a year has to pass the basic flight exam again,” Narcho said, hoping Gaeta would catch from his expression and tone what he was really saying instead of thinking he was an idiot for bringing up something so random.
“That so?” He couldn’t really be sure-there was something there again, that something he’d seen before, but Gaeta’s expression was still guarded.
“Thought maybe you’d want lessons, since you must be a little rusty. And since Galactica’s old Raptor instructor-what was he called, Cheerio-isn’t around anymore....”
The mention of Cheerio clearly dispelled any doubt Gaeta had about what was going on. “That an offer?”
“You want it to be?”
Gaeta’s answer was to grab the front of Narcho’s tanks and pull him into a kiss. Narcho slammed him against the corridor wall and took Gaeta’s surprised gasp as an opportunity to thrust his tongue into his mouth. Gaeta didn’t seem to mind him taking that liberty.
They only broke apart when a marine clipped Narcho’s shoulder as he walked past. Narcho flipped him the bird; the marine just returned the one-fingered salute over his shoulder without breaking stride.
He turned back to Gaeta, rubbing up against him just right so he would make Gaeta gasp. “I want you. Now.”
“Can you get a Raptor?”
Narcho hadn’t been expecting that. “You know it takes a day to requisition a Raptor for non-essential missions like flight training.”
“Then not until you get a Raptor.”
“Why not?” he almost growled, nipping at Gaeta’s ear. “You want me.”
“Where?” Gaeta said evenly.
“Huh?”
“Where?” Gaeta repeated, pushing Narcho away a little so he could cross his arms over his chest. “As you so astutely pointed out, the bunkrooms are all occupied, and even if they weren’t, I’ve noticed you Pegasus people have not been trained to respect boots outside the hatch.”
“Boots? What the hell are you talking about?”
Gaeta sighed. “Or you don’t all know what it means. Whatever. Empty quarters, storage compartments, even weapons lockers-people are living in all of them. This ship is overrun with people-you can’t even walk down a corridor without somebody nearly knocking you over, let alone-” Gaeta’s voice was shaking a little bit. Something was going on here that Narcho didn’t know about, but certain parts of his anatomy were telling him he could worry about that afterwards.
“The head,” Narcho countered.
“Sorry if the thought of standing in line with a bunch of civilians for an hour to get a shower stall to ourselves for three minutes isn’t really turning me on.”
“My gods, the time limit’s gotten that short?” Narcho cast around in his mind desperately for some kind of comeback. “Okay, a toilet stall. I know it’s not ideal and we can’t exactly take our time, but at least the line wouldn’t be nearly as long as for a shower.”
Gaeta’s head fell back against the metal grating behind him. “And have the dozen people waiting in line to take a shit watch us go in and come out of a stall together? And hear the whole thing? Gods, Narcho, why don’t you just frak me here where I stand?”
“Fine! I would!” Gaeta looked at him dubiously, but Narcho was a little shocked to realize he was telling the truth. It was the end of the world, for frak’s sake. There was nobody left whose opinion he really cared about. There weren’t even enough pilots left that getting caught by the brass would make any difference to the sad excuse of a “career” the military offered anymore. And really, how was hack any different from the cramped barracks and shitty rations of everyday life? “What the frak is your problem?”
Gaeta shook his head. “Did you even think about why I might like Raptors?” he challenged.
Narcho shrugged.
“Nobody can barge in without knocking.” When Narcho laughed, Gaeta pressed on. “I’m serious. This place is always so full and loud and you can’t move without running into somebody else. I don’t need everybody patting me on the back-I just want to be left alone, but that’s too much to ask. Don’t you ever get tired of having nothing for yourself, just for yourself?”
People didn’t bother Narcho. He liked being around people, and he’d gotten good at shutting them out when he didn’t want to notice them. And yet, he didn’t know what he would do without the feeling he got when he flew-not the adrenaline rush of battle, but the feeling he got when he was on CAP. The cockpit was cramped, but when he turned off the comm and looked out at the quiet stars, that moment of being the only living, breathing thing capable of looking and seeing that vast, glittering emptiness...yes, he understood.
But Narcho didn’t know how to put that into words, so he tried to make a joke instead. “If it’s the press of humanity that bothers you...” he said, hooking a finger in Gaeta’s belt loop and closing the distance between them again, “you think being around me’s gonna help? I’m a very hands-on instructor.”
The joke didn’t cut through the tension the way Narcho had hoped. Gaeta rubbed at his forehead irritably. “You don’t get it. It’s not constantly having people pressing in, even though they are. It’s that it’s being surrounded but never-nobody ever wants-it’s always somebody clipping my shoulder as they walk by, stumbling over me, or pushing me to the side, or...” Or tossing me into a launch tube, Narcho knew without him saying. Gaeta looked away. “I’m babbling, don’t pay any attention to me. Just-look. You’re hot, and I really need to get laid, but I’m-loud, or something, whatever. Just get a Raptor.”
Narcho wanted to say something meaningful, but he knew he’d have to fumble for words to get there, and it was clear that Gaeta couldn’t take much more right now. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.”
Gaeta gently extricated himself and nodded to Narcho before walking away, disappearing into the crowd in the main corridor. As Narcho watched him go, he thought to himself that he was most likely getting mixed up in something a lot more complicated than he’d intended. What surprised him was that, for once, that wasn’t scaring him at all. He took a deep breath, then shoved his way back into the crowd, walking against the current of people to find the LSO and schedule a flight.
Author: kappamaki33
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Even after the Circle is broken up and all are technically forgiven for their parts in the New Caprica debacle, tensions are still running high on Galactica. Some of the crew try to find relief in unusual places.
Pairing: Narcho/Gaeta
Characters: Narcho, Gaeta, Helo, Racetrack, Kat, mentions of Starbuck and a male OC
Spoilers: Through “Torn.”
Notes: This is for safenthecity ’s first “Never Will I Ever” prompt, “Gaeta/Narcho, as the writers intended.” My first bunny kind of hopped away on me as I plotted, though I may try to corral it again someday. This one actually was sparked by the pornbattle prompt, Gaeta/Narcho, “How’d you get your wings?”, but it didn’t turn out porny, nor did I finish it in time. I really like these two together, and I had ideas for more scenes, but this was the only place that I could find an ending. Anyway, I might come back to this ‘verse with a ficlet or two later on.
Flying High
“Did you see how I made that ninety-degree rotation and flipped end-to-end at the same time, and came right out of it to get that asteroid dead to rights?” Racetrack crowed to her companions, walking backwards so she could use her hands to demonstrate the maneuver for them. Narcho bit his lip to keep from laughing; Racetrack was so gleeful she was practically skipping.
“I gotta admit, I’ve never seen a Raptor do something like that before,” Kat said, sliding between two civilians chatting in the busy hall and jogging a couple steps to catch up.
“If it’d been a Viper, we would’ve called that a Devil’s Pike,” said Narcho. It had been too show-offy of a move for a mere training session, he thought to himself, but it wasn’t like that had ever stopped him from pulling off a stunt in a practice scenario just to prove he could. “You sure you weren’t a Viper jock in another life? You don’t fly like any Raptor pilot I’ve ever known.”
Helo grinned and put an arm around Racetrack’s shoulders, which made Racetrack beam even more. “Well then you obviously don’t know any Galactica Raptor wranglers.”
Helo and Racetrack nearly fell over when a civilian and two people in BDUs barreled into them from behind, not even bothering to say sorry before they continued their chase down the hall.
“Hey, watch it, idiots!” Racetrack yelled at them as they disappeared into the throng.
“Maybe we should move our celebration somewhere a little less crowded,” Helo said.
“That’s why we left the rec room,” Narcho grumbled.
Kat pointed at the hatch to a bunkroom. “Hey, most of the bridge bunnies in Duty Locker 301 should be on shift now, right?”
They exchanged glances. When no one else came up with a better idea, Kat pulled open the hatch, and the four invaded what was usually enemy territory.
“Man, bridge bunnies keep their bunkrooms cleaner than pilots do,” Racetrack said as she plopped down on a rack, leaned back against the wall, and nudged a chair into position so she could use it as a footrest. Gaeta, the only bridge bunny home, looked up long enough to glare at all four before hunching over the stack of papers on the worktable again.
“No kidding,” said Narcho as he sat on the rack beside her and followed suit. He unscrewed the lid on the bottle of hooch he’d brought along and took a swig. “Hey Gaeta, did you have to pass an anal retentiveness test to work in CIC along with all those math and engineering exams?”
Gaeta gave him an odd look, like he couldn’t figure out whether Narcho was just making a typical crass pilot joke or whether he was laying the groundwork for real humiliation.
That’s when it hit Narcho that Gaeta’s initial glare hadn’t really been the near eye-roll of enlightened superiority one usually got from CIC crew. There had been some animal fear in it, like a dog growling when he’s backed into a corner. It was understandable, Narcho supposed. If the rumors were true, it couldn’t have been much more than a week since Tigh and Starbuck and some other New Capricans had tried to toss him out an airlock.
Helo apparently recognized the look on Gaeta’s face, too, because he bailed Gaeta out of having to answer. “Hey Narcho, is it true that all Viper jocks are, uh, compensating for something?” He grinned around his lollypop as he leaned against the bunk ladder. “Do they make that part of the physical exam?”
Kat punched Helo in the arm, and Narcho threw a pillow at him, which he disappointingly caught before it smacked him in the face. Racetrack was rolling on the bunk with laughter. “Oh gods, they are flying giant dicks, aren’t they?”
Even Gaeta smirked. He looked good when he smiled-even kind of hot. Narcho hadn’t noticed that before. Maybe it was because Gaeta hadn’t smiled much since Narcho had met him. Or maybe it was because the few times they had crossed paths that week, Narcho had been paying more attention to Gaeta’s very nice ass than anything else.
Once Helo broke the tension, it seemed Gaeta felt safe enough to fall back on standard bridge bunny snobbery. “Well, congratulations, you’ve annoyed me, mission accomplished. Can’t you go away now?”
Kat walked around the table so she could ruffle Gaeta’s curls. “Aw, don’t you love us anymore, Gaeta? We missed harassing you so much.” She finished off with what a pilot would have seen as an affectionate shove. Gaeta didn’t keep his body loose enough, so it probably hurt a little. “Plus, we need somewhere to unwind,” she added more seriously.
“What the frak’s wrong with the rec room?”
“Colonel Tigh’s holding court down there,” Helo said grimly but not nearly as bitterly as Narcho would’ve expected. “Some of the people who were on New Caprica are giving some of us who stayed in the Fleet kind of a hard time.”
Felix set down his pen and looked concerned, almost sympathetic. “Your bunkroom?”
“Starbuck. She’s even worse than the Colonel,” Kat spat. “I almost miss the way they were when they hated each other’s guts.”
“Bitch acts like having a frakked up life gives her the right to shit all over everybody else,” Narcho muttered.
“Hey,” Helo chastised, “if she’d gone through even half of what I’ve heard happened to her on New Caprica, she would’ve had her head more thoroughly frakked with than anybody in this Fleet. It’s a miracle she’s functioning at all, even if it’s ugly right now.”
Helo had a point, but it didn’t make Narcho any less pissed. “Yeah, well, that’d be a great excuse if she hadn’t been a bitch before she moved down to the planet, too.”
Narcho tipped his head back as he took another drink and caught Gaeta’s eye. There was a spark of something there, and not just agreement or commiseration-something that made Narcho puff out his chest a little bit.
Gaeta got up from the table and walked to the bunk Narcho and Racetrack were occupying. He jerked his head to the side. “You two, out. That’s my rack.”
Racetrack grumbled, stood up, and dragged the chair she’d been using as a footrest back to the table so she could sit there. Narcho didn’t move. Gaeta crossed his arms, but if Narcho wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of curiosity and something that might’ve been flirtation lurking in the way he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Out,” he repeated.
Narcho leered and settled himself even more resolutely into the mattress. “Make me.”
“Fine.” The tone was exasperated, but again, Narcho noticed a flicker of something else that was meant for his eyes only as Gaeta sat beside him on the bed. He was so close that Narcho could feel the heat radiating out from his skin, even through Gaeta’s uniform.
Gaeta held out his hand for the bottle. “Least you can do.”
Narcho tested just a little bit further, holding the bottle out and then pulling it back just as Gaeta reached for it, teasing. Gaeta’s smirk told Narcho he knew exactly what he was doing. Narcho repeated the move, each time bringing the bottle a little bit farther back until Gaeta was reaching so far across his body he was almost lying on Narcho’s chest. When Gaeta’s face was just a few inches from his, he finally let him have the booze.
Gaeta lingered longer than he really had to. “Thanks,” he said, his face still close. It didn’t occur to Narcho that he might be doing that as a distraction until he heard metal scrape. The next thing he knew, there was a tangle of legs, ending with Gaeta having wrestled away the chair Narcho had been using as a footrest, propping his own feet on the seat and winking at Narcho. All Narcho could think about was how much he’d like to frak that smug superiority right off Gaeta’s face.
It only really dawned on Narcho what kind of looks he and Gaeta were giving each other when he saw Racetrack’s intrigued expression out of the corner of his eye. Helo and Kat hadn’t noticed anything; Kat was too busy recounting her latest kill, and Helo was an attentive, polite audience.
“Speaking of Starbuck,” Narcho said, not really sure if they were still speaking of Starbuck but recalling that that’s where they had been when he’d stopped paying attention, “did you hear the latest shit on her?”
That got Kat’s attention immediately. “Ooh, what’s that?” she said, resting on her elbows and leaning forward over the table.
“You heard that a few years before the attacks, she was engaged to Adama’s younger son, kid who died in some sort of accident with his Viper? And she was his flight instructor?” Kat and Racetrack both nodded. “Turns out, she passed him even though he should’ve washed out.”
Racetrack grumbled, and Kat waved a dismissive hand. “That’s old news-ancient history. You Pegasus guys are so far out of the loop, it’s not even funny.”
Helo frowned. “Besides, I don’t think it’s true.”
“What, Starbuck’s too thoughtful and responsible to pull some shit like that?” Narcho responded. “Look, I know you two get along, but even you have to admit, she’s capable of doing some pretty frakked up things.”
Helo shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t think Kara would do that-I don’t think anyone would do that.” Narcho couldn’t help but snort and roll his eyes, but Helo pressed on. “I mean it. If you love somebody-if you even just care about somebody as a human being-you don’t pass them in something as dangerous as flight school just because you want them to be happy. You’re more concerned about them not dying.”
Narcho was pretty sure everyone in the room was as surprised as he was when Gaeta spoke up. “Well, maybe not if they’re completely incompetent, but if the instructor was just sliding them through on a point or two that wasn’t quite as perfect as it should be...what?” Gaeta looked at all the faces staring back at him in surprise. “Don’t tell me none of you has ever heard of somebody passing a student on account of them being a hot frak even though they’re a little sloppy pulling a Raptor out of a one-eighty flip turn or something?”
Narcho raised his eyebrows. “Have you?”
Gaeta’s face reddened; it appeared he’d just figured out that he’d said far, far too much. “All I’m saying is that I think some people are capable of doing it. I think Starbuck might be, too.” He stood up and looked around the room awkwardly. “I’ve got to get to work. If you want to stay, fine, just don’t trash the place.”
Narcho knew none of them bought Gaeta’s excuse as he hurried across the room, especially since he didn’t even bother to take the paperwork he’d been doing with him. Helo and Racetrack exchanged wide-eyed glances as soon as the hatch slammed shut behind Gaeta.
“Oh my frakking gods,” Racetrack half-said, half-laughed. “Cheerio’s mystery frak was Gaeta?”
“I never would’ve guessed it, but must be,” said Helo.
“Wait, wait, wait-Cheerio? What the frak are you talking about?” Kat cut in.
“Cheerio was one of the pilots that died in an accident on the hangar deck, right before they recruited your batch of nuggets,” Helo explained. “He was mainly a Raptor flight instructor, and he administered most of the exams for people trying to earn their wings.”
Racetrack, even more eager than Helo, took over and flitted her gaze back and forth between Kat and Narcho to gauge reactions. “Long before the attacks, Cheerio said he had this guy he was giving flying lessons. He was always bragging about how this student had a major kink for sex in Raptors, how he’d spend half the lesson banging this guy and the other half convincing him he didn’t know how to fly so he’d take more ‘lessons.’”
Helo added, “When the time came for that batch to take their test drives, though, everybody passed. Cheerio said he passed this guy but told him he was just getting through by the skin of his teeth and should really have more...‘hands-on training.’ I think Gaeta got his wings with that batch, but so did four dozen other people.”
Narcho was almost glad that Kat started talking, so he could have a little more time to process this new information. “Huh. So Gaeta has a thing for Raptors? I never woulda thought he had kinks. He’s not the type.”
Racetrack leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, if Gaeta’s the one Cheerio was talking about, he has kinks. And not just a thing for Raptors-what he did in those Raptors.... ‘Course, Cheerio might’ve been exaggerating about that part.”
“Would’ve been like him,” Helo agreed.
“I’ve gotta piss,” Narcho announced abruptly. He stood up and handed Racetrack his booze, hoping maybe that would keep her from making any guesses about what he was really leaving for. “Drank too much. You guys staying here for awhile?”
Helo and Kat exchanged somewhat confused glances. “I think so....”
Narcho nodded, hiding his disappointment at that, and headed out into the hall. It took a few minutes to find him, especially since he had to push through the dense stream of civilians and crewmembers that seemed to be wandering around everywhere, but luckily, Gaeta hadn’t gotten very far.
“Hey, Gaeta!” Narcho yelled over the crowd. Gaeta stopped, looked back, and followed Narcho when he nodded toward a side corridor with less traffic. They stood to one side.
“Regs say anybody who doesn’t fly for more than a year has to pass the basic flight exam again,” Narcho said, hoping Gaeta would catch from his expression and tone what he was really saying instead of thinking he was an idiot for bringing up something so random.
“That so?” He couldn’t really be sure-there was something there again, that something he’d seen before, but Gaeta’s expression was still guarded.
“Thought maybe you’d want lessons, since you must be a little rusty. And since Galactica’s old Raptor instructor-what was he called, Cheerio-isn’t around anymore....”
The mention of Cheerio clearly dispelled any doubt Gaeta had about what was going on. “That an offer?”
“You want it to be?”
Gaeta’s answer was to grab the front of Narcho’s tanks and pull him into a kiss. Narcho slammed him against the corridor wall and took Gaeta’s surprised gasp as an opportunity to thrust his tongue into his mouth. Gaeta didn’t seem to mind him taking that liberty.
They only broke apart when a marine clipped Narcho’s shoulder as he walked past. Narcho flipped him the bird; the marine just returned the one-fingered salute over his shoulder without breaking stride.
He turned back to Gaeta, rubbing up against him just right so he would make Gaeta gasp. “I want you. Now.”
“Can you get a Raptor?”
Narcho hadn’t been expecting that. “You know it takes a day to requisition a Raptor for non-essential missions like flight training.”
“Then not until you get a Raptor.”
“Why not?” he almost growled, nipping at Gaeta’s ear. “You want me.”
“Where?” Gaeta said evenly.
“Huh?”
“Where?” Gaeta repeated, pushing Narcho away a little so he could cross his arms over his chest. “As you so astutely pointed out, the bunkrooms are all occupied, and even if they weren’t, I’ve noticed you Pegasus people have not been trained to respect boots outside the hatch.”
“Boots? What the hell are you talking about?”
Gaeta sighed. “Or you don’t all know what it means. Whatever. Empty quarters, storage compartments, even weapons lockers-people are living in all of them. This ship is overrun with people-you can’t even walk down a corridor without somebody nearly knocking you over, let alone-” Gaeta’s voice was shaking a little bit. Something was going on here that Narcho didn’t know about, but certain parts of his anatomy were telling him he could worry about that afterwards.
“The head,” Narcho countered.
“Sorry if the thought of standing in line with a bunch of civilians for an hour to get a shower stall to ourselves for three minutes isn’t really turning me on.”
“My gods, the time limit’s gotten that short?” Narcho cast around in his mind desperately for some kind of comeback. “Okay, a toilet stall. I know it’s not ideal and we can’t exactly take our time, but at least the line wouldn’t be nearly as long as for a shower.”
Gaeta’s head fell back against the metal grating behind him. “And have the dozen people waiting in line to take a shit watch us go in and come out of a stall together? And hear the whole thing? Gods, Narcho, why don’t you just frak me here where I stand?”
“Fine! I would!” Gaeta looked at him dubiously, but Narcho was a little shocked to realize he was telling the truth. It was the end of the world, for frak’s sake. There was nobody left whose opinion he really cared about. There weren’t even enough pilots left that getting caught by the brass would make any difference to the sad excuse of a “career” the military offered anymore. And really, how was hack any different from the cramped barracks and shitty rations of everyday life? “What the frak is your problem?”
Gaeta shook his head. “Did you even think about why I might like Raptors?” he challenged.
Narcho shrugged.
“Nobody can barge in without knocking.” When Narcho laughed, Gaeta pressed on. “I’m serious. This place is always so full and loud and you can’t move without running into somebody else. I don’t need everybody patting me on the back-I just want to be left alone, but that’s too much to ask. Don’t you ever get tired of having nothing for yourself, just for yourself?”
People didn’t bother Narcho. He liked being around people, and he’d gotten good at shutting them out when he didn’t want to notice them. And yet, he didn’t know what he would do without the feeling he got when he flew-not the adrenaline rush of battle, but the feeling he got when he was on CAP. The cockpit was cramped, but when he turned off the comm and looked out at the quiet stars, that moment of being the only living, breathing thing capable of looking and seeing that vast, glittering emptiness...yes, he understood.
But Narcho didn’t know how to put that into words, so he tried to make a joke instead. “If it’s the press of humanity that bothers you...” he said, hooking a finger in Gaeta’s belt loop and closing the distance between them again, “you think being around me’s gonna help? I’m a very hands-on instructor.”
The joke didn’t cut through the tension the way Narcho had hoped. Gaeta rubbed at his forehead irritably. “You don’t get it. It’s not constantly having people pressing in, even though they are. It’s that it’s being surrounded but never-nobody ever wants-it’s always somebody clipping my shoulder as they walk by, stumbling over me, or pushing me to the side, or...” Or tossing me into a launch tube, Narcho knew without him saying. Gaeta looked away. “I’m babbling, don’t pay any attention to me. Just-look. You’re hot, and I really need to get laid, but I’m-loud, or something, whatever. Just get a Raptor.”
Narcho wanted to say something meaningful, but he knew he’d have to fumble for words to get there, and it was clear that Gaeta couldn’t take much more right now. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.”
Gaeta gently extricated himself and nodded to Narcho before walking away, disappearing into the crowd in the main corridor. As Narcho watched him go, he thought to himself that he was most likely getting mixed up in something a lot more complicated than he’d intended. What surprised him was that, for once, that wasn’t scaring him at all. He took a deep breath, then shoved his way back into the crowd, walking against the current of people to find the LSO and schedule a flight.