[bsg fic] Reach Out (and Touch Faith)
Title: Reach Out (and Touch Faith)
Author: SentraAquila
Pairing: Cally/Chief Tyrol
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Lay Down Your Burdens Part II
Summary: In the chaos, she seeks out his hand.
AN: For
carolelombard (I hope I did it justice) and to indulge my secret hand kink.
"Hey take care of those hands. I don't have that many I trust with my birds."
The week after he makes that comment, she trades her last razor for a bottle of vanilla hand lotion.
* * *
Four days pass and she thinks maybe she's made a mistake because now her legs have a fine layer of fuzz and not to mention that he hasn't said a word about-
"Does this plane smell like flowers to you?" Tyrol asks her during a maintenance check.
She turns her head into her shoulder and smiles.
* * *
The primary gossip following the destruction of the resurrection ship is how Apollo's coping with his brush of death. No one seems to notice the absence of the Chief, except Cally.
She finds him in the munitions locker propped up by the bulkhead and nursing a bottle of booze. She slides next to him and replaces the bottle with her hand.
"Hey. We'll build another Blackbird. Promise."
Resting her head on his shoulder, she patiently waits. And just as she's about to drift off to sleep, she feels his response in the circles he draws with his thumb.
* * *
For the last ten minutes, he's been fumbling with the fuel line on Viper 428.
Eventually, she slips in between the fuselage and him, her small hands coiled around the piece of tubing. The friction lasts less than a second once she connects it to the plug.
"There you go, Chief," she says with a blush as she walks off wiping the grease on her suit.
She waits for the sound of hammers pounding metal before exhaling a soft moan.
* * *
The sheets are pooled around her waist and he is sleeping soundly, head resting on her chest.
She wishes it was just as easy for her, but there are a thousand thoughts racing in her head.
Did he ever take her here? Did he touch her the same way? Was he thinking about her the entire time?
"Small hands," he murmurs in his sleep-addled speech.
She's asleep minutes later.
* * *
Cally's in the middle of a nap when she hears the roar of engines followed by a growing murmur outside her tent. She's about to tell her neighbors to shove it when she sees them.
The panicked faces staring at the raiders engulfing the skies and centurions flooding the dirt streets.
In the chaos, she seeks out his hand.
His grip is strong.
* * *
"Don't go. Tell Starbuck to find someone else to take your place. Please."
She knows it selfish, but she wants her husband to be there, to hold her hand when their child comes. Yet, he's an invaluable asset and she can't help them, not as a pregnant woman on the run.
"Shh. Just stay here. Keep low. Okay?"
He wipes the tears off her cheek and rests his palm on the curve of her stomach.
* * *
Even in his absence she feels the weight of his hand against her skin and knows he'll find his way back to her.