Wishfic #4: How The Viper Jock Met The Choirboy (And It Didn't End In Tears)
Title: How The Viper Jock Met The Choirboy (And It Didn't End In Tears)
Characters: Tyrol, Starbuck
Pairings: mentions of Tyrol/Boomer, a nod at Kara/Lee
Wordcount: ~ 1100 words
Rating: Teen.
Spoilers: none; backstory and S1
Beta: Thanks to ebuchala for beta reading.
Summary: He'd hate her with a passion, he could tell.
Author's note: I'm right in time for dionusa's Kara Fest! Yaih me (and I didn't even know it was coming up)! In actuality, I asked for fic wishes and taragel requested Tyrol & Starbuck friendship. Hope you'll like this! It wasn't easy, tackling these two for the first time. I realized I didn't even know why they are friends. So I wrote fic about that. I don't know if it worked but it sure was fun. :)
How The Viper Jock Met The Choirboy (And It Didn't End In Tears)
1.
On first sight, Kara Thrace was your typical viper jock and nothing else. She let Socinus help her wrestle out of her helmet without noticing that the knuckledragger was even there, climbing out of her viper and jumping onto the landing deck with the grace of a cat. After looking around for a moment, a smirk crept onto her face.
When Tyrol reached her, she’d already produced a cigar from the-Gods-knew-where.
“Great landing deck you have here, Chief,” she said. “Love what you’ve done with the ceiling.”
“Welcome aboard the Galactica, sir,” Tyrol answered, undeterred. “No problems bringing her down hands-on, I hope?”
“Not a one,” Thrace said without sparing him a glance. “I had a barrel roll planned coming in, but then I thought I’d better introduce myself first. I wouldn’t want to scare anyone.” She flashed him a grin.
Tyrol tried to smile.
He’d hate her with a passion, he could tell.
2.
Galactica was to be decommissioned next year. Adama granted the air wing permission to hold a wake in advance, similar to a birthday celebration except backwards.
There were ambrosia and Aquarian drums. Watching Boomer not looking at him for an hour, Tyrol suddenly found himself drunk.
Thrace crashed down on the chair next to his and filled his glass again.
“Chief,” she said sagely. “you and I both need to drink a lot more.”
Later on Tyrol would think that he had missed something important right there, but since his eyes had been glued to Boomer all night and since he wasn’t privy to Kara Thrace’s thoughts, he’d never know.
Now, he looked across the room where Boomer was laughing about something Helo had said. Gritting his teeth, he had an unkind thought that evolved around monkeys masquerading as officers. Space monkeys. Space monkeys who waved guns about and stole the girls without even breaking the rules.
“Or maybe,” Thrace said, following his eyes. “you need something else.” She stood up, extending her hand.
Tyrol blinked up at her.
“Coming?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Standing up and walking straight wasn’t easy at this point but Tyrol managed somehow.
Two corridors down the hall, she shoved him back against the wall and kissed him.
It felt surprisingly nice. Thrace felt surprisingly nice, and warm, and... nice. Or something. And she was a damn fine woman, far out of his league (there was something about fraternization right there, something that also had to do with Boomer but Tyrol wasn’t in any state to process that thought).
That was his first impression.
His second was that they both tried to tilt their head into the same direction, noses bumping into each other, and there was clanking of teeth. He caught a glimpse of Starbuck’s frown when she tried again but to no avail. In a manly attempt to salvage the situation, Tyrol boldly renewed his grip around her waist, but his hand was caught in her belt buckle. He hissed.
They stumbled away from each other.
“Frak me,” Tyrol swore, out of breath.
“You know, I’m thinking not,” Thrace drawled. “Chief, I’m afraid that you and I just aren’t working out.” Watching him trying to regain his composure and possibly his soberness, she snorted a laugh. “Gods, that was the worst attempt at making out in my whole life.”
“No kidding,” Tyrol breathed, flustered, and she was still giggling, patting his back.
“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a twist. No harm done,” she said. “See you next shift?”
“Sir,” he managed, watching her walk away.
Great. Now he was sobering up.
Right when he really didn’t want to anymore.
3.
Thrace strolled onto the landing deck as if it were a frakking park, not looking hung-over in the least. Several deckhands and pilots gave her dirty looks just for that. On any other day, Tyrol would have mused about how nobody should be allowed to be that chipper while he had a headache.
Today, he hid behind a broken raptor.
The downside to this plan was that when Thrace walked over, circling the ship, they were both out of everybody’s sight and also so far out of earshot that he’d have to scream very loud to be saved.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” Tyrol asked his toolbox.
Starbuck leaned against the hull of the raptor, observing him work. “Quite a night, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Tyrol told the box. “Barely remember a thing.”
“Really?” She grinned. “What about the part where we started making out in that corridor and you...”
“Alright!” he snapped, head coming up so he could stare at her in shock. Gods, he was so screwed. She was an officer, it was fraternization, and she might just decide to take it out on him. Knowing Thrace, she knew that she had the upper hand. “What do you want? Sir?”
Standing above him with her arms crossed, Thrace looked like she were having the time of her life. She could as well have been bouncing up and down. “Geez, Chief. I never figured you for such a choirboy.”
He glared at her. She tilted her head.
“Frak, alright,” she said, crouching down at his side to have a short look at what he was working on. Then she handed him the next tool, getting comfortable. “Helo says that Boomer was hugging the toilet all morning, whining about love and rules and chubby deckhands who won’t look at her. We think it’s annoying. Let’s talk.”
Pausing, he blinked. For a moment it was hard to decide whether he should hug and kiss her (again) or possibly freak out because... Boomer.
Holy frak.
4.
After yet another combat landing, Tyrol was checking out damage done to the carriage of Hot Dog’s viper when feet showed up beside him. He glanced up.
“Morning, sir,” he said. “How can I help you today?”
Starbuck smiled. “I hear you have a free shift coming up. I’ll be over at Cloud Nine for security detail and I’m free for the rest of the day. Want to tag along?”
Tyrol narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not looking for a frak buddy, are you?” he asked suspiciously.
Starbuck’s eyes were laughing. “I’ve got nothing planned,” she said. “I thought I’d check out the casino, then try out one of the bars. Hex says they have one with a piano. You in?”
Bending to the side, he scanned the deck for Lee Adama but couldn’t see him anywhere. “Are you on the run from something?”
“Does Boomer’s gimbal really need fixing twice a week?”
Tyrol chuckled. Fair enough.
Weighting the screwdriver in his hand, he thought for a moment.
“Give me an hour,” he said. “Sure I’m in.”
It was nice to have a friend.
Characters: Tyrol, Starbuck
Pairings: mentions of Tyrol/Boomer, a nod at Kara/Lee
Wordcount: ~ 1100 words
Rating: Teen.
Spoilers: none; backstory and S1
Beta: Thanks to ebuchala for beta reading.
Summary: He'd hate her with a passion, he could tell.
Author's note: I'm right in time for dionusa's Kara Fest! Yaih me (and I didn't even know it was coming up)! In actuality, I asked for fic wishes and taragel requested Tyrol & Starbuck friendship. Hope you'll like this! It wasn't easy, tackling these two for the first time. I realized I didn't even know why they are friends. So I wrote fic about that. I don't know if it worked but it sure was fun. :)
How The Viper Jock Met The Choirboy (And It Didn't End In Tears)
1.
On first sight, Kara Thrace was your typical viper jock and nothing else. She let Socinus help her wrestle out of her helmet without noticing that the knuckledragger was even there, climbing out of her viper and jumping onto the landing deck with the grace of a cat. After looking around for a moment, a smirk crept onto her face.
When Tyrol reached her, she’d already produced a cigar from the-Gods-knew-where.
“Great landing deck you have here, Chief,” she said. “Love what you’ve done with the ceiling.”
“Welcome aboard the Galactica, sir,” Tyrol answered, undeterred. “No problems bringing her down hands-on, I hope?”
“Not a one,” Thrace said without sparing him a glance. “I had a barrel roll planned coming in, but then I thought I’d better introduce myself first. I wouldn’t want to scare anyone.” She flashed him a grin.
Tyrol tried to smile.
He’d hate her with a passion, he could tell.
2.
Galactica was to be decommissioned next year. Adama granted the air wing permission to hold a wake in advance, similar to a birthday celebration except backwards.
There were ambrosia and Aquarian drums. Watching Boomer not looking at him for an hour, Tyrol suddenly found himself drunk.
Thrace crashed down on the chair next to his and filled his glass again.
“Chief,” she said sagely. “you and I both need to drink a lot more.”
Later on Tyrol would think that he had missed something important right there, but since his eyes had been glued to Boomer all night and since he wasn’t privy to Kara Thrace’s thoughts, he’d never know.
Now, he looked across the room where Boomer was laughing about something Helo had said. Gritting his teeth, he had an unkind thought that evolved around monkeys masquerading as officers. Space monkeys. Space monkeys who waved guns about and stole the girls without even breaking the rules.
“Or maybe,” Thrace said, following his eyes. “you need something else.” She stood up, extending her hand.
Tyrol blinked up at her.
“Coming?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Standing up and walking straight wasn’t easy at this point but Tyrol managed somehow.
Two corridors down the hall, she shoved him back against the wall and kissed him.
It felt surprisingly nice. Thrace felt surprisingly nice, and warm, and... nice. Or something. And she was a damn fine woman, far out of his league (there was something about fraternization right there, something that also had to do with Boomer but Tyrol wasn’t in any state to process that thought).
That was his first impression.
His second was that they both tried to tilt their head into the same direction, noses bumping into each other, and there was clanking of teeth. He caught a glimpse of Starbuck’s frown when she tried again but to no avail. In a manly attempt to salvage the situation, Tyrol boldly renewed his grip around her waist, but his hand was caught in her belt buckle. He hissed.
They stumbled away from each other.
“Frak me,” Tyrol swore, out of breath.
“You know, I’m thinking not,” Thrace drawled. “Chief, I’m afraid that you and I just aren’t working out.” Watching him trying to regain his composure and possibly his soberness, she snorted a laugh. “Gods, that was the worst attempt at making out in my whole life.”
“No kidding,” Tyrol breathed, flustered, and she was still giggling, patting his back.
“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a twist. No harm done,” she said. “See you next shift?”
“Sir,” he managed, watching her walk away.
Great. Now he was sobering up.
Right when he really didn’t want to anymore.
3.
Thrace strolled onto the landing deck as if it were a frakking park, not looking hung-over in the least. Several deckhands and pilots gave her dirty looks just for that. On any other day, Tyrol would have mused about how nobody should be allowed to be that chipper while he had a headache.
Today, he hid behind a broken raptor.
The downside to this plan was that when Thrace walked over, circling the ship, they were both out of everybody’s sight and also so far out of earshot that he’d have to scream very loud to be saved.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” Tyrol asked his toolbox.
Starbuck leaned against the hull of the raptor, observing him work. “Quite a night, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Tyrol told the box. “Barely remember a thing.”
“Really?” She grinned. “What about the part where we started making out in that corridor and you...”
“Alright!” he snapped, head coming up so he could stare at her in shock. Gods, he was so screwed. She was an officer, it was fraternization, and she might just decide to take it out on him. Knowing Thrace, she knew that she had the upper hand. “What do you want? Sir?”
Standing above him with her arms crossed, Thrace looked like she were having the time of her life. She could as well have been bouncing up and down. “Geez, Chief. I never figured you for such a choirboy.”
He glared at her. She tilted her head.
“Frak, alright,” she said, crouching down at his side to have a short look at what he was working on. Then she handed him the next tool, getting comfortable. “Helo says that Boomer was hugging the toilet all morning, whining about love and rules and chubby deckhands who won’t look at her. We think it’s annoying. Let’s talk.”
Pausing, he blinked. For a moment it was hard to decide whether he should hug and kiss her (again) or possibly freak out because... Boomer.
Holy frak.
4.
After yet another combat landing, Tyrol was checking out damage done to the carriage of Hot Dog’s viper when feet showed up beside him. He glanced up.
“Morning, sir,” he said. “How can I help you today?”
Starbuck smiled. “I hear you have a free shift coming up. I’ll be over at Cloud Nine for security detail and I’m free for the rest of the day. Want to tag along?”
Tyrol narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not looking for a frak buddy, are you?” he asked suspiciously.
Starbuck’s eyes were laughing. “I’ve got nothing planned,” she said. “I thought I’d check out the casino, then try out one of the bars. Hex says they have one with a piano. You in?”
Bending to the side, he scanned the deck for Lee Adama but couldn’t see him anywhere. “Are you on the run from something?”
“Does Boomer’s gimbal really need fixing twice a week?”
Tyrol chuckled. Fair enough.
Weighting the screwdriver in his hand, he thought for a moment.
“Give me an hour,” he said. “Sure I’m in.”
It was nice to have a friend.