Helo is an Idiot
Title: Helo is an Idiot
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Helo/Starbuck
Rating: R-ish?
Notes: Friends with Benefits
Birthdays weren’t so much celebrated on Galactica as they were toasted to, and Sharon clinked glasses with all the other pilots before downing her shot with a shout and a burst of laughter. She’d only returned from a tour with Helo, and Starbuck-riding the coattails of the drinking frenzy-could spot her not-so-subtly throwing coy glances at the Chief. Irritating, considering how much Sharon was getting laid and how long it had been since Starbuck had gotten any.
She could also spot Helo, also on the fringe of the celebration, more than his lion’s share of empty shot glasses piled up in front of him. Also very obviously aware of the coveted connection between Sharon and Chief as he watched on, mournfully.
Frak this. Starbuck swiped up her own drink and moved over to Helo’s table, losing her bones in the chair beside him. “You’re an idiot,” she said, plainly.
His eyes caught hers and he pulled his lips into a thin line. A silent net of words unsaid piling up between them. “Don’t start,” was all he said.
“Tell me,” Kara pushed, leaning forward, “Did you have a fun tour? Huh? Have a lot of opportunities to star gaze together? Play footsie under the control panel?”
He just shot her another look and finished off his glass. A look she knew all too well because, at the end of the day, Kara and Karl Agathon spoke the same language. They weren’t versed in emotional expression and vulnerability. They needed something tangible, something they could beat into a pulp when it fought back. Besides, they knew each other too well. They’d shared a bunk back when they were barely nuggets and he had first pointed Sharon out to her (“you see that? She’s going to see my cot before she sees her wings.”). They’d bet ten credits on it. As someone who slept under his cot for months, she was also overly familiar with the heavy beat of his breath when he was jacking off. On a particularly sleepless night, she’d bet him ten credits that she could last longer than he could. Between the two bets, neither of them had made any money off each other that year.
But that was when he was an arrogant little soldier boy, madly in lust. Now, Sharon had her claws in him, and it was just sad. Kara yielded with a small act of mercy. “C’mon,” she said, tilted her head. “You’ve been cramped in that scouting vessel for too long. Let’s stretch your legs.” Bust out of here. Head to the training room. Beat something up.
His eyes said it all-thank you. He finished off his drink, and responded with, simply, “Sounds like a party,” before pushing himself up to his feet.
As they made their way down the hall, both light on their toes, Starbuck ran her fingers over the cool skin on Galactica-half searching for balance, half savoring something tactile against her skin, even cold, hard metal. “Where do you think they frak?” she asked, absently, her tongue unhinged by the liquor.
And Helo’s stubborn silence beside her, before, “The storage closets, probably.”
Not that he’d been thinking about it. Kara’s fingers found the round handle of one of the hall closets and she found her wrist turning it open, pushing the door open with a squeak. “What, like this?” she said, grin planted on her lips, as she turned around, backing up into the closet.
“What are you doing?”
“You think they frakked in this one?” She pressed as she moved deeper inside, prompting him to follow her.
“Starbuck-”
“I’m doing us a favor,” she insisted, suddenly, and grabbed the collar of his neatly pressed uniform, yanking him into a kiss. He followed, mindlessly, lips first, tongue second, body third, crushing her up against the wall inside the small, dark storage closet.
He felt like muscle and brunt force. But this instrument of war was better than any other instrument she’d had between her legs lately, so she took it with the rhythmic beat of his breath on her skin. Familiar, heavy beats she could rely on. She came with his hand around her throat and they never spoke of it again (though they reenacted it a couple more times that month).
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Helo/Starbuck
Rating: R-ish?
Notes: Friends with Benefits
Birthdays weren’t so much celebrated on Galactica as they were toasted to, and Sharon clinked glasses with all the other pilots before downing her shot with a shout and a burst of laughter. She’d only returned from a tour with Helo, and Starbuck-riding the coattails of the drinking frenzy-could spot her not-so-subtly throwing coy glances at the Chief. Irritating, considering how much Sharon was getting laid and how long it had been since Starbuck had gotten any.
She could also spot Helo, also on the fringe of the celebration, more than his lion’s share of empty shot glasses piled up in front of him. Also very obviously aware of the coveted connection between Sharon and Chief as he watched on, mournfully.
Frak this. Starbuck swiped up her own drink and moved over to Helo’s table, losing her bones in the chair beside him. “You’re an idiot,” she said, plainly.
His eyes caught hers and he pulled his lips into a thin line. A silent net of words unsaid piling up between them. “Don’t start,” was all he said.
“Tell me,” Kara pushed, leaning forward, “Did you have a fun tour? Huh? Have a lot of opportunities to star gaze together? Play footsie under the control panel?”
He just shot her another look and finished off his glass. A look she knew all too well because, at the end of the day, Kara and Karl Agathon spoke the same language. They weren’t versed in emotional expression and vulnerability. They needed something tangible, something they could beat into a pulp when it fought back. Besides, they knew each other too well. They’d shared a bunk back when they were barely nuggets and he had first pointed Sharon out to her (“you see that? She’s going to see my cot before she sees her wings.”). They’d bet ten credits on it. As someone who slept under his cot for months, she was also overly familiar with the heavy beat of his breath when he was jacking off. On a particularly sleepless night, she’d bet him ten credits that she could last longer than he could. Between the two bets, neither of them had made any money off each other that year.
But that was when he was an arrogant little soldier boy, madly in lust. Now, Sharon had her claws in him, and it was just sad. Kara yielded with a small act of mercy. “C’mon,” she said, tilted her head. “You’ve been cramped in that scouting vessel for too long. Let’s stretch your legs.” Bust out of here. Head to the training room. Beat something up.
His eyes said it all-thank you. He finished off his drink, and responded with, simply, “Sounds like a party,” before pushing himself up to his feet.
As they made their way down the hall, both light on their toes, Starbuck ran her fingers over the cool skin on Galactica-half searching for balance, half savoring something tactile against her skin, even cold, hard metal. “Where do you think they frak?” she asked, absently, her tongue unhinged by the liquor.
And Helo’s stubborn silence beside her, before, “The storage closets, probably.”
Not that he’d been thinking about it. Kara’s fingers found the round handle of one of the hall closets and she found her wrist turning it open, pushing the door open with a squeak. “What, like this?” she said, grin planted on her lips, as she turned around, backing up into the closet.
“What are you doing?”
“You think they frakked in this one?” She pressed as she moved deeper inside, prompting him to follow her.
“Starbuck-”
“I’m doing us a favor,” she insisted, suddenly, and grabbed the collar of his neatly pressed uniform, yanking him into a kiss. He followed, mindlessly, lips first, tongue second, body third, crushing her up against the wall inside the small, dark storage closet.
He felt like muscle and brunt force. But this instrument of war was better than any other instrument she’d had between her legs lately, so she took it with the rhythmic beat of his breath on her skin. Familiar, heavy beats she could rely on. She came with his hand around her throat and they never spoke of it again (though they reenacted it a couple more times that month).