The Closing of the Day
Author : falafel_fiction
Summary: Oneshot. Baltar and Gaeta's ritual living on New Caprica during the cylon occupation. Set between S2 and S3.
Characters/Pairing: Gaius/Felix, references to Six.
Rating: R for sexual content.
Disclaimer: I do not own BSG. It owns me.
Warnings: Mild slash, substance abuse and self-harm.
Author's Note: Well, I'm kinda daunted because this is my first fic in another fandom. It's a little raw but hopefully my next one will be better. Thanks to Battlestar Galactica and my new OTP of Gaius Baltar and Felix Gaeta I have some fresh inspiration to override my Lost fic compulsions. I'm especially taken with Felix. He may become my new fic baby. Charlie was jealous and huffy about this at first, but then I bought him a new guitar and now he just stays up in his room all day and never talks to me!
Dedication: For cylune9
The Closing of the Day
“Mr Gaeta…could I ask for your assistance?”
Felix raised his eyes from the stack of paperwork before him. President Baltar was slouched in the high-backed chair behind his desk where he had been clicking his pen for the last ten minutes. Before he had started with the clicking of his pen, Baltar had alternated between shuffling through approved documents, rearranging his desk ornaments and chain smoking his Caprican Imperial cigars. The President didn’t have anything to do. He hadn’t been of any remote use since the beginning of the occupation and even before that he had been largely ineffective as a leader.
But Felix dutifully rounded his desk and came to stand before the president's chair. Baltar laid down his pen and lifted one of his paperweights; a white oval stone of polished marble.
“Mr President, sir?” Felix prompted, still awaiting his instructions.
Baltar ran a hand through his stringy dark hair and forced a smile onto his thin lips. He gestured for Felix to hold out his hand and then pressed the paperweight into his palm. His fingers were moist with sweat.
“I was wondering if you could please…” He paused, bracing himself. “...slam this down on my hand?”
Felix frowned, clasping the smooth stone. It was made of real Caprican marble; a souvenir from their old home, many light years away from this twisted bastardisation they called New Caprica. Baltar spread his hand flat on the desk. It looked like a white spider on the polished wood. Baltar’s eyes were pleading for punishment...for pain that would bring him clarity and absolution, maybe even redemption. Or just a little pain to make him feel human again.
Felix didn’t care about making Gaius feel better. Yet he would hardly refuse an offer to relieve his own frustrations.
“With pleasure, sir...” he replied curtly.
Felix lifted the paperweight high and smashed it down on Baltar's knuckles. The President buckled in his chair, gasping a silent scream. Before he could recover Felix brought the stone down again; a second blow that Baltar hadn't asked for, but Felix delivered to show his contempt for him. This time he heard the crunch of erupting cartilage. If Felix had a stronger arm he might have broken the bones in his fingers, but the hand would be bruised and swollen at least. Now Baltar would have an excuse not to sign any new detention orders the following day.
Gaius slowly raised his head, tears brimming in his eyes as he cradled his hand close to his chest.
“Thank you, Felix,” Baltar rasped, pulling his facial muscles into a grimacing smile. “You’re so helpful to me.”
Felix rolled his eyes. He crossed the cabin to the row of windows on the right side of the Colonial One, taking in the view of the ramshackle tents and trucks that lined the dirt roads of the settlement. Felix hadn't really been working at his desk either. He was just better at pretending to be busy than Baltar was. He had already scanned through the latest papers and taken mental notes of any information that would be valuable to the resistance. Early tomorrow morning before the sun rose over New Caprica, Felix would feed this information to the garbage dumpster and then flip the yellow dog bowl to let the rebels know they had a new message. This and this alone would allow Felix to sleep that night. The light was fading from the planet now, but his sharp eyes were still searching for that tiny glimpse of yellow on the ashen ground.
Felix loosened his tie and took a cigarette from his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gaius awkwardly trying to light up another Caprican Imperial with his left hand. Felix wandered over to share his matches.
“I don't think the cylons are coming back tonight,” he remarked blandly.
He watched Baltar's face for signs of disappointment. Felix knew what was going on between Gaius and the Six even though he was always stupidly trying to hide it from him. He had probably been hoping to frak her again tonight, but he did a good job of covering his regret. Baltar sighed elaborately, a smile spreading over his gaunt face.
“Thank the Gods! This calls for a little celebration, don't you think, Felix?” He nodded to the bottle at the end of his desk. Felix nodded, unscrewing the cap and pouring two glasses full to the brim. "At last! They give us a moment's peace, a little time to savour our humanity. Do you know, Mr Gaeta, I think I would have gone quite mad by now if I didn't have you here with me. It's very comforting to look across this desk and see just one of you staring back. Well...that is until I reach the bottom of this bottle, of course. Then I fear I'll be seeing a long line of Felixs blurring my vision!"
Felix did not smile at his weak attempt at humour. He used to find Gaius so funny. So charming and brilliant. Felix could still remember a time when he would feel delighted if Doctor Baltar invited him out for a drink after their work was completed. He remembered the nights that they would sit at tables with the Viper pilots; Felix nursing ambroisias as he watched Gaius playing a hand of cards. Felix didn't socialise very much, but his confidence had grown in Baltar's company. Sometimes he would find himself mimicking his gestures and repeating his sayings. He would wake the next morning with an aching hangover, but would happily accept if Gaius fancied more ambrosia with chasers the following night.
And now he was sitting in the offices of the Colonial One with Gaius Baltar, the rightfully elected president of New Caprica and he, Felix Gaeta, was his Chief of Staff...yet he thought he would rather be anywhere else in the universe but here. Felix would have preferred to be out in the camp with the dusty winds and the spreading diseases of this hell-hole planet. It felt dirtier in this room. Baltar was slugging back his drink in gulps and letting his cigar stubs fall on the carpet. That's what the president's ship had become during his term...a giant unmoving ashtray.
Baltar still loved the sound of his own voice. Between the drinks, the pills and the cigars there were his ceaseless rants about the cylons flawed and deluded notions of democracy. Gaius was very good at picking out all the faults in other people's plans and politics. He was insightful and eloquent as he cut their ideals to shreds with his tongue. He was an excellent speaker and when Felix cared to listen Gaius did talk sense. But while he was a master at souring other people's dreams he was incapable of crafting a better solution. He had no ideas of his own anymore.
Baltar continued making these elaborate speeches to his audience of one while the sun went down on New Caprica. He didn't seem to notice or care that Felix wasn't responding to him or drinking with him. In fact once his own glass was drained he reached for Felix's untouched drink without even thinking. Soon he was swigging from the bottle. Since he was using his left hand he was spilling much for the liquor over the carpet and his trouser legs. When the bottle was empty he sat whimpering over his swollen hand that Felix had smashed with the paperweight. He could hear Gaius muttering quietly under his breath. Felix had often noticed him doing this, even during their time together on the Galactica. It sometimes seemed like Baltar was conversing with somebody...somebody who wasn't there.
The President let out another despairing sigh and slumped forward on his desk.
“Oh God…I want to die...” he moaned into his shirt sleeves.
At that point Felix stubbed out his last cigarette and decided it was time for the President to go to bed. If Baltar got any further into his habitual ‘I want to die’ speech then Felix would soon be glancing around the office for some blunt object that he could use to kill him. He pulled Baltar's arm around his shoulders, helped him to his feet and then led him stumbling into his bed chamber. Baltar was leaning heavily against him, his breath hot against his neck. Felix struggled to keep him upright as he helped him out of his suit. When Baltar was stripped to his vest and underwear Felix put him to bed, tucking the silk blankets carefully around him - not because he was concerned, but because he was anal.
But Baltar took the bed-making as a gesture of tenderness. Suddenly his left hand was in Felix's hair, his fingers gently kneading his curls. Felix froze, squeezing his eyes shut. Baltar pulled him close until their foreheads were pressing together.
"I'm glad you're here, Felix...I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't here..."
Felix felt his breath against his skin once more before their lips met in a clumsy connection. Felix told himself it was Baltar who was forcing this kiss, but at the back of his mind he knew that he had leaned in first. As soon as Baltar felt his reciprocation, he looped an arm around his lower back and pulled him down onto the mattress beside him. At this point Felix began his token struggling; murmuring 'no, no, no, no...' and squirming in the older man's arms. Baltar, for his part, made soft cooing noises and laid feathery kisses along his neck while his good hand reached to unfasten his belt. Felix had lost weight in the last few months due to stress, missed meals and too many cigarettes. His trousers slid easily from his waist. His legs spread wider on the mattress as if he had no control over them.
This was usually the point where Felix would start kicking and objecting for real. This wasn't the first night it had happened. It probably wouldn't be the last. They always ended up like this on nights when the cylons weren't around and Baltar was drunk out of his skull. Felix wasn't sure if Baltar remembered their fumblings the next morning. If he did then he never mentioned them. Felix was always careful never to let it go too far. He wouldn't let himself become another one of Baltar's whores. No, he hadn't sunk that low. But Baltar's hands were beneath his clothes now...and he hadn't put a stop to it this time. Would this be the night when he finally despaired and gave his consent?
"Shut up, will you!"
Felix blinked, his eyelids fluttering open. Baltar's head was turned away from him. He was staring at something to the side of the bed. Felix followed his gaze...but there was nothing to be seen.
"Just leave me in peace, I said!" Baltar hissed again.
"What?" spluttered Felix. "What are you...?"
Baltar snapped his attention back to him. He attempted a reassuring smile.
"I wasn't talking to you, Felix...nevermind me...I was just..."
Felix shoved his hands away in disgust, rising up from the bed. He quickly straightened his suit, popping every button back into its hole, tightening his tie and pressing down his hair. He could hear Baltar making a pining noise on the mattress behind him. Felix glanced over his shoulder and saw that Gaius was in a full state of arousal. His right hand was so stiff and swollen he couldn't even jerk himself off, which gave Felix a small thrill of satisfaction. This was the only way he could get to him. Baltar could destroy his reputation, crush his ideals, break his heart...but this was the only way Felix could take his revenge, though it made him feel sick and degraded that he had been reduced to a cocktease.
Felix spent the next ten minutes or so tidying the president's chamber, compulsively shifting every object in the room into more orderly arrangements. By the time he returned to the bed, Gaius had fallen into a twitchy troubled sleep. Felix considered how easy it would be to take one of his pillows, shove it down on his face and smother the life out of him. But he could never bring himself to do it. Felix liked Baltar best when he was sleeping. When he slept his face was always lined with guilt and doubts. He would flinch and whimper, his breath hitching, his limbs trembling. Felix could tell that he had terrible nightmares. He looked so remorseful in his sleep like a child begging for forgiveness though he still didn't understand what he had done so wrong. Some nights Felix would pull up a chair and watch these fits with a clenching heart. Other times he would take pity on Gaius. He would sing to him...a whispery lullaby that would soothe his turmoil.
When the morning came, Gaius would tell him that angels had visited him in his dreams. He wouldn't remember what the angel sang. He would only remember that the voice he heard was beautiful.
The End
Summary: Oneshot. Baltar and Gaeta's ritual living on New Caprica during the cylon occupation. Set between S2 and S3.
Characters/Pairing: Gaius/Felix, references to Six.
Rating: R for sexual content.
Disclaimer: I do not own BSG. It owns me.
Warnings: Mild slash, substance abuse and self-harm.
Author's Note: Well, I'm kinda daunted because this is my first fic in another fandom. It's a little raw but hopefully my next one will be better. Thanks to Battlestar Galactica and my new OTP of Gaius Baltar and Felix Gaeta I have some fresh inspiration to override my Lost fic compulsions. I'm especially taken with Felix. He may become my new fic baby. Charlie was jealous and huffy about this at first, but then I bought him a new guitar and now he just stays up in his room all day and never talks to me!
Dedication: For cylune9
The Closing of the Day
“Mr Gaeta…could I ask for your assistance?”
Felix raised his eyes from the stack of paperwork before him. President Baltar was slouched in the high-backed chair behind his desk where he had been clicking his pen for the last ten minutes. Before he had started with the clicking of his pen, Baltar had alternated between shuffling through approved documents, rearranging his desk ornaments and chain smoking his Caprican Imperial cigars. The President didn’t have anything to do. He hadn’t been of any remote use since the beginning of the occupation and even before that he had been largely ineffective as a leader.
But Felix dutifully rounded his desk and came to stand before the president's chair. Baltar laid down his pen and lifted one of his paperweights; a white oval stone of polished marble.
“Mr President, sir?” Felix prompted, still awaiting his instructions.
Baltar ran a hand through his stringy dark hair and forced a smile onto his thin lips. He gestured for Felix to hold out his hand and then pressed the paperweight into his palm. His fingers were moist with sweat.
“I was wondering if you could please…” He paused, bracing himself. “...slam this down on my hand?”
Felix frowned, clasping the smooth stone. It was made of real Caprican marble; a souvenir from their old home, many light years away from this twisted bastardisation they called New Caprica. Baltar spread his hand flat on the desk. It looked like a white spider on the polished wood. Baltar’s eyes were pleading for punishment...for pain that would bring him clarity and absolution, maybe even redemption. Or just a little pain to make him feel human again.
Felix didn’t care about making Gaius feel better. Yet he would hardly refuse an offer to relieve his own frustrations.
“With pleasure, sir...” he replied curtly.
Felix lifted the paperweight high and smashed it down on Baltar's knuckles. The President buckled in his chair, gasping a silent scream. Before he could recover Felix brought the stone down again; a second blow that Baltar hadn't asked for, but Felix delivered to show his contempt for him. This time he heard the crunch of erupting cartilage. If Felix had a stronger arm he might have broken the bones in his fingers, but the hand would be bruised and swollen at least. Now Baltar would have an excuse not to sign any new detention orders the following day.
Gaius slowly raised his head, tears brimming in his eyes as he cradled his hand close to his chest.
“Thank you, Felix,” Baltar rasped, pulling his facial muscles into a grimacing smile. “You’re so helpful to me.”
Felix rolled his eyes. He crossed the cabin to the row of windows on the right side of the Colonial One, taking in the view of the ramshackle tents and trucks that lined the dirt roads of the settlement. Felix hadn't really been working at his desk either. He was just better at pretending to be busy than Baltar was. He had already scanned through the latest papers and taken mental notes of any information that would be valuable to the resistance. Early tomorrow morning before the sun rose over New Caprica, Felix would feed this information to the garbage dumpster and then flip the yellow dog bowl to let the rebels know they had a new message. This and this alone would allow Felix to sleep that night. The light was fading from the planet now, but his sharp eyes were still searching for that tiny glimpse of yellow on the ashen ground.
Felix loosened his tie and took a cigarette from his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gaius awkwardly trying to light up another Caprican Imperial with his left hand. Felix wandered over to share his matches.
“I don't think the cylons are coming back tonight,” he remarked blandly.
He watched Baltar's face for signs of disappointment. Felix knew what was going on between Gaius and the Six even though he was always stupidly trying to hide it from him. He had probably been hoping to frak her again tonight, but he did a good job of covering his regret. Baltar sighed elaborately, a smile spreading over his gaunt face.
“Thank the Gods! This calls for a little celebration, don't you think, Felix?” He nodded to the bottle at the end of his desk. Felix nodded, unscrewing the cap and pouring two glasses full to the brim. "At last! They give us a moment's peace, a little time to savour our humanity. Do you know, Mr Gaeta, I think I would have gone quite mad by now if I didn't have you here with me. It's very comforting to look across this desk and see just one of you staring back. Well...that is until I reach the bottom of this bottle, of course. Then I fear I'll be seeing a long line of Felixs blurring my vision!"
Felix did not smile at his weak attempt at humour. He used to find Gaius so funny. So charming and brilliant. Felix could still remember a time when he would feel delighted if Doctor Baltar invited him out for a drink after their work was completed. He remembered the nights that they would sit at tables with the Viper pilots; Felix nursing ambroisias as he watched Gaius playing a hand of cards. Felix didn't socialise very much, but his confidence had grown in Baltar's company. Sometimes he would find himself mimicking his gestures and repeating his sayings. He would wake the next morning with an aching hangover, but would happily accept if Gaius fancied more ambrosia with chasers the following night.
And now he was sitting in the offices of the Colonial One with Gaius Baltar, the rightfully elected president of New Caprica and he, Felix Gaeta, was his Chief of Staff...yet he thought he would rather be anywhere else in the universe but here. Felix would have preferred to be out in the camp with the dusty winds and the spreading diseases of this hell-hole planet. It felt dirtier in this room. Baltar was slugging back his drink in gulps and letting his cigar stubs fall on the carpet. That's what the president's ship had become during his term...a giant unmoving ashtray.
Baltar still loved the sound of his own voice. Between the drinks, the pills and the cigars there were his ceaseless rants about the cylons flawed and deluded notions of democracy. Gaius was very good at picking out all the faults in other people's plans and politics. He was insightful and eloquent as he cut their ideals to shreds with his tongue. He was an excellent speaker and when Felix cared to listen Gaius did talk sense. But while he was a master at souring other people's dreams he was incapable of crafting a better solution. He had no ideas of his own anymore.
Baltar continued making these elaborate speeches to his audience of one while the sun went down on New Caprica. He didn't seem to notice or care that Felix wasn't responding to him or drinking with him. In fact once his own glass was drained he reached for Felix's untouched drink without even thinking. Soon he was swigging from the bottle. Since he was using his left hand he was spilling much for the liquor over the carpet and his trouser legs. When the bottle was empty he sat whimpering over his swollen hand that Felix had smashed with the paperweight. He could hear Gaius muttering quietly under his breath. Felix had often noticed him doing this, even during their time together on the Galactica. It sometimes seemed like Baltar was conversing with somebody...somebody who wasn't there.
The President let out another despairing sigh and slumped forward on his desk.
“Oh God…I want to die...” he moaned into his shirt sleeves.
At that point Felix stubbed out his last cigarette and decided it was time for the President to go to bed. If Baltar got any further into his habitual ‘I want to die’ speech then Felix would soon be glancing around the office for some blunt object that he could use to kill him. He pulled Baltar's arm around his shoulders, helped him to his feet and then led him stumbling into his bed chamber. Baltar was leaning heavily against him, his breath hot against his neck. Felix struggled to keep him upright as he helped him out of his suit. When Baltar was stripped to his vest and underwear Felix put him to bed, tucking the silk blankets carefully around him - not because he was concerned, but because he was anal.
But Baltar took the bed-making as a gesture of tenderness. Suddenly his left hand was in Felix's hair, his fingers gently kneading his curls. Felix froze, squeezing his eyes shut. Baltar pulled him close until their foreheads were pressing together.
"I'm glad you're here, Felix...I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't here..."
Felix felt his breath against his skin once more before their lips met in a clumsy connection. Felix told himself it was Baltar who was forcing this kiss, but at the back of his mind he knew that he had leaned in first. As soon as Baltar felt his reciprocation, he looped an arm around his lower back and pulled him down onto the mattress beside him. At this point Felix began his token struggling; murmuring 'no, no, no, no...' and squirming in the older man's arms. Baltar, for his part, made soft cooing noises and laid feathery kisses along his neck while his good hand reached to unfasten his belt. Felix had lost weight in the last few months due to stress, missed meals and too many cigarettes. His trousers slid easily from his waist. His legs spread wider on the mattress as if he had no control over them.
This was usually the point where Felix would start kicking and objecting for real. This wasn't the first night it had happened. It probably wouldn't be the last. They always ended up like this on nights when the cylons weren't around and Baltar was drunk out of his skull. Felix wasn't sure if Baltar remembered their fumblings the next morning. If he did then he never mentioned them. Felix was always careful never to let it go too far. He wouldn't let himself become another one of Baltar's whores. No, he hadn't sunk that low. But Baltar's hands were beneath his clothes now...and he hadn't put a stop to it this time. Would this be the night when he finally despaired and gave his consent?
"Shut up, will you!"
Felix blinked, his eyelids fluttering open. Baltar's head was turned away from him. He was staring at something to the side of the bed. Felix followed his gaze...but there was nothing to be seen.
"Just leave me in peace, I said!" Baltar hissed again.
"What?" spluttered Felix. "What are you...?"
Baltar snapped his attention back to him. He attempted a reassuring smile.
"I wasn't talking to you, Felix...nevermind me...I was just..."
Felix shoved his hands away in disgust, rising up from the bed. He quickly straightened his suit, popping every button back into its hole, tightening his tie and pressing down his hair. He could hear Baltar making a pining noise on the mattress behind him. Felix glanced over his shoulder and saw that Gaius was in a full state of arousal. His right hand was so stiff and swollen he couldn't even jerk himself off, which gave Felix a small thrill of satisfaction. This was the only way he could get to him. Baltar could destroy his reputation, crush his ideals, break his heart...but this was the only way Felix could take his revenge, though it made him feel sick and degraded that he had been reduced to a cocktease.
Felix spent the next ten minutes or so tidying the president's chamber, compulsively shifting every object in the room into more orderly arrangements. By the time he returned to the bed, Gaius had fallen into a twitchy troubled sleep. Felix considered how easy it would be to take one of his pillows, shove it down on his face and smother the life out of him. But he could never bring himself to do it. Felix liked Baltar best when he was sleeping. When he slept his face was always lined with guilt and doubts. He would flinch and whimper, his breath hitching, his limbs trembling. Felix could tell that he had terrible nightmares. He looked so remorseful in his sleep like a child begging for forgiveness though he still didn't understand what he had done so wrong. Some nights Felix would pull up a chair and watch these fits with a clenching heart. Other times he would take pity on Gaius. He would sing to him...a whispery lullaby that would soothe his turmoil.
When the morning came, Gaius would tell him that angels had visited him in his dreams. He wouldn't remember what the angel sang. He would only remember that the voice he heard was beautiful.
The End