FIC: Viper
I'm... I'm really sorry.
Pepe was a good pilot.
This was not only him being egotistical. Everyone around him knew it. That was why they were willing to make all the exceptions. Sure, he was a little short for some of the things that he needed to do, but Chief had been willing to modify a viper for him, and that eliminated most of the problems. And it turned out that, with the extra two arms, he could get a lot done that the other nuggets were only starting to figure out. It was all up in his head and his muscle control. And all because Pepe was a little different. He was adjusting wonderfully to life in space.
There was only one little problem.
Pepe was not a fan of his call sign. In fact, he hated it.
He knew it was part of being a nugget. Knew that you weren't always how you saw yourself, but how everyone around you saw you. That was why there were seven of them, and none of them had decided how they'd be referred to themselves, except Sweetums, and that was probably because Sweetums could have kicked anyone's ass if they called him something he didn't like. (Sure, he was an eight-foot-tall monster calling himself Sweetums, but hey, whatever worked.)
But Lieutenant Thrace hadn't even cared, okay? She had overheard the fight, between him and Rat Face (formerly Rizzo the Rat, who seemed quite pleased with his call sign), the battle that sometimes reigned when Weirdo wasn't around to distract them with stories about cannons or cosmic fish. And a stupid repetitive fight- almost an in-joke- suddenly became his most identifying feature in the fleet.
People would call him by his call sign, a friendly acknowledgement as he walked by. And sure, they knew him now. There was something about the uniform that made you stand out in a crowd, so that everyone knew him. He was no longer just another number on the blackboard of rapidly-depleting civilians; he was a viper pilot. Well, a nugget, but soon he would be up there. Everyone knew Apollo, and everyone knew Starbuck, and someday, everyone would know him.
Of course, it would help if they knew him the right way.
Pepe was many things. A lover, a fighter, a dreamer. Pepe was the best new Viper pilot they had, and probably the best hope that the twelve colonies had towards beating the Cylon armies, and undoubtedly a better romantic match for his current instructor than Apollo could have been.
But there was still that one problem.
"Look, I am not happy, okay?" he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "I am a king prawn, well schooled in the languages of both military prowess and love." And he fluttered his eyelashes, as seductively as he could think of, pressing his head against her in a clear gesture of his affection.
Lieutenant Thrace just laughed. "Come off it, Shrimp," she said. "We got a mission to fly."
Pepe was a good pilot.
This was not only him being egotistical. Everyone around him knew it. That was why they were willing to make all the exceptions. Sure, he was a little short for some of the things that he needed to do, but Chief had been willing to modify a viper for him, and that eliminated most of the problems. And it turned out that, with the extra two arms, he could get a lot done that the other nuggets were only starting to figure out. It was all up in his head and his muscle control. And all because Pepe was a little different. He was adjusting wonderfully to life in space.
There was only one little problem.
Pepe was not a fan of his call sign. In fact, he hated it.
He knew it was part of being a nugget. Knew that you weren't always how you saw yourself, but how everyone around you saw you. That was why there were seven of them, and none of them had decided how they'd be referred to themselves, except Sweetums, and that was probably because Sweetums could have kicked anyone's ass if they called him something he didn't like. (Sure, he was an eight-foot-tall monster calling himself Sweetums, but hey, whatever worked.)
But Lieutenant Thrace hadn't even cared, okay? She had overheard the fight, between him and Rat Face (formerly Rizzo the Rat, who seemed quite pleased with his call sign), the battle that sometimes reigned when Weirdo wasn't around to distract them with stories about cannons or cosmic fish. And a stupid repetitive fight- almost an in-joke- suddenly became his most identifying feature in the fleet.
People would call him by his call sign, a friendly acknowledgement as he walked by. And sure, they knew him now. There was something about the uniform that made you stand out in a crowd, so that everyone knew him. He was no longer just another number on the blackboard of rapidly-depleting civilians; he was a viper pilot. Well, a nugget, but soon he would be up there. Everyone knew Apollo, and everyone knew Starbuck, and someday, everyone would know him.
Of course, it would help if they knew him the right way.
Pepe was many things. A lover, a fighter, a dreamer. Pepe was the best new Viper pilot they had, and probably the best hope that the twelve colonies had towards beating the Cylon armies, and undoubtedly a better romantic match for his current instructor than Apollo could have been.
But there was still that one problem.
"Look, I am not happy, okay?" he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "I am a king prawn, well schooled in the languages of both military prowess and love." And he fluttered his eyelashes, as seductively as he could think of, pressing his head against her in a clear gesture of his affection.
Lieutenant Thrace just laughed. "Come off it, Shrimp," she said. "We got a mission to fly."