Section Three

 

It started with one spot, and before Apollo could turn around, Boxey had thrown out dozens of them, was hot, itchy and whining about his head hurting. 

"My bones hurt, Daddy," he said, sniffling into Apollo's neck and holding on like a limpet.  A hot, feverish little limpet with spots.  Apollo could cope with a lot of things after two yahrens experience, but the spots defeated him  He was forced to call in expert help.

"Measles?" said Apollo, aghast.  "But it's almost Yule!"

He's a kid," said Doctor Jerome, amused.  "Of course he gets sick at holidays.  It's what they do, to disrupt their parents' lives."

"I never did."

"Really?"  And Uncle Jerry smiled.  "Selective memory's a useful parental trait, Apollo.  Well done for acquiring it."

"But Yule's only five days away…"

"Boxey will be fine in a few days." He handed Apollo a blister pack of pills and a prescription for more.  "Give him one of these three times a day and keep him in bed until the fever drops.  He should be a lot better tomorrow.  This isn't a serious attack and he'll probably be well enough to take to your parents for Yuleday, even if he will still be a bit spotty.  Just bundle him up warmly for the journey over.  I'll see you there, but call me if you need me before then.  And Apollo, I don't mind coming down into town to see you, you know that, but you really should get signed up to a practice nearer home.  There are good doctors around here I can recommend.  Alexander over at Fenice, for one."

"You've always been my doctor, Uncle Jerry," protested Apollo.  "It wouldn't seem right to go to anyone else."

"Then move back up to Osaiya and save me the long trip for house calls.  Right then, he'll be very sleepy for the rest of the day, so leave him be and come and make me a cup of coffee before I brave the drive back out of the city.  The snow's thickening out there."

Apollo obeyed, fed and watered his Uncle Jerry to fortify him for the trip back out to the coastal enclave where Apollo had been brought up, and when Jerry had gone after making one more check on Boxey to reassure Apollo's anxious inner parent, Apollo made calls cancelling the few pre-Yule social plans he'd had.  Not that he had many.  Boomer was sorry and promised cup-cakes as soon as Boxey was well enough, but Starbuck was out and Apollo had to leave a message with Greenbean.  Somehow that made it worse, that he couldn't apologise in person.

When the doorbell sounded, he was working on the Exhibition Catalogue by staring out of the big picture window that overlooked the Park and to the dome of the Kobolian beyond.  Try as he might, he couldn't see anything of the Old City beyond that.  Everything was hidden by the Kobolian's sheer bulk.

He grinned, though, when he opened the door.  Greenbean was obviously a trustworthy messenger. 

"I hope you're impressed," said Starbuck, stamping his feet on Apollo's doormat to shake the compacted snow loose from his boots.  "I had to do some amazing detective work to find your address."

"I am impressed.  How did you do it?"

"I bugged Sire Anton until he caved in and told me which building.  You made it pretty easy after that, what with having your name on the postbox downstairs.  Can I come in?"

"I hope you've had measles," warned Apollo, waving him inside. 

"I was brought up in an orphanage," said Starbuck.  "I've had everything.  If one of us kids got sick, and they'd push the rest of us into the room with him for a day or two to make sure that we all got it..  They liked getting these things over with all at once.  How's Boxey?"

"Miserable, but Jerry—our doctor—says he'll be fine.  I didn't know that you were an orphan, Starbuck."

"Abandoned at an orphanage door in the Thorn Forest, so to speak.  In a small town, there, anyway.  I was about two, they thought.  I've got no idea who I really am.  Starbuck was the name of the policeman who found me."

Apollo grimaced, not really knowing what to say and suddenly very conscious of his own very rich and privileged upbringing.  "Er… that's sort of sad, really."

"Oh, I don't know."  Starbuck shed his jacket and put a bag down on one of the long sofas.  "It at least meant I had a clean slate and have no-one's expectations to burden me but my own.  Apollo, this is one amazing apartment.  I know you said you lived in one of the blocks overlooking the Park, but I hadn't realised it was this luxurious!  What a view."

Apollo recognised a 'Keep Off' sign when he saw it and let the subject drop.  He frowned,  Starbuck wasn't his normal cheerful self.  "I've lived here for yahrens," he said.  He followed Starbuck's gaze out to the Kobolian's dome.  "I never get tired of it though.  You should see it at night, sometime, when they floodlight the dome.  It's amazing."

"I can see that from my place," nodded Starbuck.  "But in my case, the dome's so close that it always feels like it's right on top of my head.  It's less overpowering from here.  Now, listen.  I know you can't come with me and Boomer tomorrow night and you're going to your parents for Yule—" He paused and said in a gentler tone,  "And I know this is a shitty time of yahren for you—" 

"Better this yahren than last," acknowledged Apollo.  "Boxey's doing well, and to be honest I don't think he remembers Serina very well.  He was very little when she died and all he really remembers is what I've told him, and he's seen the holopics, of course."  He was surprised at how he could say this with little more than regret. 

"I'm glad," said Starbuck, simply.  "Anyhow, I've got a Yule present for Boxey in here and one for Muffit.  And I made this for you."  He pulled a packet of coffee from the bag.  "I'm starting a new line selling my coffees, but this one's a Very Special Blend.  It's got cinnamon, orange and allspice in it, just for Yule and, er, just for you.  So here it is."

Apollo wasn't quite sure what to say.  He'd never had a coffee made especially for him before.  He blushed, said thank you and herded Starbuck into the kitchen to try it out.  Starbuck let him pretend to make the coffee for precisely three microns before shouldering him to one side and taking over the ornate coffee machine Old Mr Rameses had given him and Serina as a wedding present.

Apollo watched him, smiling, savouring the fragrance of spiced coffee as it filled the apartment.  "Smells good."

"Smells Yule-y, anyway," agreed Starbuck.  "There's a bag of cakes and mushies there somewhere, from Boomer.  He sends his best wishes and season's greetings."  An expression that Apollo couldn't quite make out crossed Starbuck's face.

"That was kind of him.  Boxey'll love them."

"Well, make the most of it."  Starbuck gave the brewed coffee an experimental shake, nodded approval and poured it out.  He leaned up against the long counter and sipped at his own mug.  "When are you going to your parents?"

"Yule eve."  Apollo sipped the coffee.  It was delicious.  "I'll take this with me, I think.  It'll be a hit."

"I'll make you some more whenever you want it."

"I'm looking forward to the holiday this yahren.  At least I was before Boxey got measly.  What are you doing for Yule?"

Starbuck looked down.  He kicked idly at the base of the counter, all his attention on his boots.  They were still wet from the snow.  "Oh, I'm holding the mistletoe for Dietra and Boomer," he said.  "Very festive.  I can hardly wait."

"You should come to Osaiya, with us," said Apollo, before he could repent and think better of it.

Starbuck frowned.  "Will your sister be there?"  He grinned when Apollo laughed.  "Maybe next yahren," he said.  "When she's forgotten all about me."

"I'm not sure she'll do that," said Apollo.  He put down his coffee, feeling lost suddenly.

"No?" said Starbuck.  He put his cup down onto the counter and there was a short silence.  Apollo's heart began to pound faster.  Starbuck was smiling when he looked up.

Starbuck's smile softened when he saw Apollo was looking at him.  Apollo had catalogued a lot of Starbuck's smiles, he realised, but he hadn't seen this one before.  He stared at Starbuck's face, trying to sort it out.  It was as if Starbuck's face filled the entire room. 

Starbuck stepped up close.  "Apollo," he said.

Starbuck's fingers brushed his cheek.

Apollo didn't move except to draw in a slow, shaky breath.  Starbuck's fingertips, warm and soft, pressed against his cheek, moved slowly down the side of his jaw.  When Starbuck's fingers touched his lips, Apollo leaned forward to meet him.

Starbuck's lips brushed Apollo's, briefly and sweetly.

It was a closemouthed kiss, undemanding and light and easy.  It was sweet.  But still Apollo's breath hitched in his throat.  His heart pounded, and blood roared in his ears.  "Star—" he said.

Starbuck's hands cupped Apollo's face, the thumbs moving gently against the corners of Apollo's mouth.  He leaned in again and once again his mouth pressed against Apollo's.

Boxey's cry was urgent, loud with distress.  "Daddy!  Daddy, where are you?"

Apollo pulled back.  "Aah," he said, torn.  He turned his head, still framed by Starbuck's hands. to glance at Boxey's bedroom door.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm sorry. I'd better—"

Starbuck drew back and smiled a gentle smile at him. a sweet smile, as sweet as the kisses.  His gaze was filled with warmth and affection and maybe something more.  "Happy Yule, Apollo," he said, quietly.  "Happy Yule."

"Daddy!"

Apollo threw out his hands helplessly and went.  When he'd settled Boxey and comforted him and come back to the living room again, Starbuck was shrugging back into his coat.

"Can't stay," he said hurriedly.  "Greenbean's okay, but I can't leave him too long.  I just wanted to drop off Boxey's present while I had the time."

"Starbuck?"

He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable,  The look Apollo had thought he'd seen, the one that spoke of affection and maybe more, that was gone.  "Yeah, and let me know if you want any more of that coffee, okay?  See you, Apollo.  Have a good Yule."

"Starbuck—?"  Apollo stared after him until he'd disappeared down the outside hallway, bemused.  He quietly closed the door when Starbuck was out of sight.

The apartment was full of the scent of cinnamon coffee and oranges.  Apollo dropped the coffee bag into the trash, hesitated, then pulled it out again, pushing it into a cupboard where he wouldn't have to look at it.  He went back to his desk and stared out at the dome for a long time.





"You aren't going down with something as well, are you?"  Apollo's father stood over him, holding out a glass of something that frothed and sparkled.  He looked rather more anxious than festive.  "No sniffles, sneezes or spots?"

"I'm fine.  Why?"

"You're a bit quiet, Apollo, even for you."  Adama dropped into a chair and stretched his legs out, sighing. 

"Sorry.  I don't mean to be.  Isn't it a bit early for alcohol?"

"It's been a long day already," said Adama.  "I thought we deserved it."

Boxey had had them all up before dawn, desperate to get to his presents.  He'd chafed under the family rule that meant he could only open one small present at breakfast, and had to wait until after Temple for the rest, but the task of choosing which one had kept him quiet(ish) for a centar.  Apollo had stayed at home with Boxey while the others went to Yule Service—Boxey was, as Jerry had predicted, a great deal better but still an awesome object when it came to spots and really not fit to be seen in public—and it had been an uphill job keeping Boxey out of the pile of brightly wrapped parcels.  The instant the family, with the addition of Jerry, had returned home, Boxey's restraint vanished.  He was only half-visible now, sitting with Muffit under a mound of torn paper and boxes, complaining about the cotton mittens that Jerry insisted on to stop him from scratching the spots and which were seriously interfering with his ability to rip paper and parcels apart.  He paused in his labours every few centons to bounce across to display the latest prize to his father.

"I was hoping," said Apollo's father quietly, "that things were a bit easier for you.  It's been almost two yahrens, Apollo."

"What?  Oh.  No, it's not that.  I mean, I still miss her, but…  It's not that.  I'm fine about that."  Apollo drank some of his ambrosa quickly.  "Sire Anton was right."

"He's a very wise old man."

"He said it would get better, and it has.  I'm all right, Dad.  I was just thinking."

"Jerry thought your knee was probably paining you."  The slight upward tone made it a question.  Adama smiled.  "You love the snow, I know, but it must make walking more difficult."

Apollo shrugged.  "I just have to live with it.  It's no worse than usual, really."

"Hmph."  Adama sipped at his ambrosa thoughtfully.  "So, it's not Serina—for which I'm thankful, Apollo—and it's not your knee.  So what—?"

Apollo was saved by his son landing on his lap with a Look At THIS One, Daddy! and, grateful, Apollo examined the set of trowels and stiff-haired brushes in their rolled leather pouch, very aware of his father's watchful gaze.  It wasn't as good quality as the hand-made set in his desk back at the Kobolian but it was a good student's kit.  Boxey would be all set for their return to the site at Carillon this coming season,

"All of my own!" crowed Boxey.  "I won't have to borrow yours now." 

"I like it," approved Apollo, taking out the smallest trowel and testing the weight. 

Boxey said, anxiously, "Will my other trowel fit?  The special one you gave me?  That's the best one and I can't leave it out, Daddy."

Apollo felt the little glow.  He couldn't love Boxey more if the child were really, genetically, his own.  "I'm sure it will.  Who gave you this?"

"Oh, it's from Starbuck.  It's nice, isn't it, Daddy?"

"Who's Starbuck?" asked Adama.

"He's Daddy's friend," said Boxey, wriggling down and vanishing back into his mound of paper.

Apollo rolled the excavation kit away carefully.

"I see," said Adama.

"He's very attractive," said Athena, drifting past and, as ever, determined to butt in where she was least wanted.  "I saw him last night, did I tell you, Apollo?"

"No, you didn't," said Apollo, with such restraint that his teeth ached.  "I thought you went to the Yule Ball, last night?"

"I did.  He was there with that other friend of yours.  He had that blonde b—"  Athena caught their father's eye and recovered quickly.  "—the one that works at the Chancery.  Isn’t she a dancer, or something?  Anyhow she was with him, too, so I didn't go over.  They all looked miserable, anyway, and I was with a lot of friends—"

"You were with Piers," jeered Zac, who had the same annoying habit as his sister of turning up like the proverbial bad one-cubit coin. 

"Not President Adar's son?  That Piers?"  Apollo felt sick.  He really shouldn't drink ambrosa this early in the day.  He put the glass down carefully.  His ears buzzed and he wondered if his father was right, and he was coming down with something.

"She has no taste," said Zac.  "The man picks his nose in public and snorts when he laughs."

"Zac," said their father.

"I thought better of you, Thenie," said Zac, not to be quelled just yet.  "I'd have thought you wouldn't bother with him in case you spoiled your shoes spurning him."

"There was a group of us, and Piers was only one—"

"I saw you dancing with him," said Zac.  "Dancing, Thenie.  In public, where people could see you.  Where I could see you.  It was disgusting."

"Take this elsewhere," commanded Adama, in the tone no-one disobeyed.  "I'm trying to talk to your brother."

Apollo wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't prefer to listen to the children squabble, but they were too well-trained.  They drifted off towards the kitchen, still arguing.  In the relative quiet, Apollo picked up his ambrosa again, aware that his father's steady gaze was fixed on him. 

"So," said Adama after a few centons.  "Starbuck."

"He owns a coffee shop near the Kobolian."  Apollo took a gulp of the ambrosa.  He looked around for the bottle.

"Mmn," said Adama, and was silent again for a centon.  "So," he said at last, "Do you see much of Joss these days?"

Apollo looked at him, astonished. 

Adama smiled.  "Well," he said.  "I hope Starbuck's younger."  He leaned forward and chinked his glass against Apollo's.  "Happy Yule, my son."





Apollo took a measles-free Boxey with him on his first trip to the coffee shop in the New Yahren, actually on New Yahren's Day.  The café was quieter than usual; the Kobolian was closed to the public for the holiday and only the hardiest of tourists were braving the icy wind and snowy streets.  Apollo took advantage of the empty Kobolian to do some work on the first proofs of his report of the summer's finds.  Boxey was happy enough in the corner of Apollo's office with Muffit and some toys to occupy him.

Starbuck seemed subdued when they arrived at the café for lunch, giving Apollo a quick smile but not leaving the counter, as he usually did, to join them at the table.  Apollo felt cold.  The wind must have cut through him more than he'd realised. 

Boxey scowled.  "Is Starbuck mad with us?"

"I don't know," said Apollo, feeling dull as the grey snow-laden skies outside.  "Why don't you go and ask him?"

He might claim later that he didn't think Boxey would take him seriously, but he'd be lying to himself.  Boxey was rational child who took things literally.  He marched over to the counter and did as his father suggested and Apollo pretended that he wasn't at all interested in the outcome. 

"Of course not, Tiger!"  But Starbuck's ears went red.  "I'm just busy."

"You never are when we're here," said Boxey.  His face brightened.  "I was going to say thank you for my present, honest I was!  Daddy told me not to forget and I hadn't really, I was just drinking my chocolate."  He waited, expectant, while Starbuck frowned, and said tentatively, "Don't be mad, Starbuck.  I did like it.  Daddy says I can take it to Carillon in the summer when we go back to get some more bones."

Starbuck's expression lightened.  "Bones," he repeated, and shook his head.  He  grinned, threw up his hands and came out from behind the counter.  "You and bones!  All right, I'll bite.  Tell me all about Yule."

He gave Apollo an apologetic glance when he got to the table.  Apollo nodded, unsmiling, but let Boxey tell Starbuck all about their few days in Osaiya.  Boxey seemed delighted to have someone new to recite the list of his presents to, and Apollo didn't interrupt.  He watched Starbuck's expressive face instead.  Starbuck sat with his head bent, apparently giving Boxey all his attention, amusement and affection written all over him.

It hadn't meant anything, then, when Starbuck had come to the apartment; just an overflow of the Yuletide spirit, with peace all around and goodwill to all men.  It hadn't meant anything, except maybe the same amusement and a little bit of the affection that Boxey was getting now, must have been why Starbuck left so quickly and hadn't been around when Apollo called the coffee shop.  And why Starbuck went to the Yule Ball with Cassiopeia.  It was stupid to read anything into it.  Stupid.

Really stupid.

Starbuck looked up when Boxey reached the end of his list.  "I wish I'd had half such a good time," he said, and there was something, a question in his eyes that Apollo couldn't quite understand.

"Thanks for Boxey's present," said Apollo, politely.  "He does love it."

"As long as it gets him a few bones."

"I like bones," said Boxey.  He looked from one to the other of them, looking anxious.

"You're an unnatural parent, Apollo," said Starbuck.  "I'll bet you read him archaeology reviews instead of bedtime stories."

"I tell him about mummification."

"Daddy's going to show me how to make mummies," said Boxey.  His chin trembled.  He pressed his lips together hard, and stared down at his hot chocolate.

"Hey," said Apollo, startled.  He pulled Boxey closer, feeling the small shoulders shake.  "What's up?"

Boxey shook his head, and Starbuck blew out a noisy sigh.

"Me being a jerk," he said.  "I'm sorry, Apollo.  I was just…" he hesitated, then said, slowly, "It wasn't a great Yule here.  I saw Athena at the Yule Ball."

"She told me."

Starbuck grimaced.  "I thought she would.  I went with Boomer and Dietra."

"And Cassie."

"Yeah."

"Did you have a good time?"

"Not really." Starbuck grimaced again and glanced at Boxey.  "Damn."

"Yeah," said Apollo.  He gave Boxey's shoulders a little shake.  "Hey, it's all right."

"Are you fighting?" asked Boxey.

"No.  No, we're not.  Promise."  Another little shake and a smile that Apollo hoped didn't look as forced as it felt.  

"Okay," said Boxey, still doubtful.

"Finish up your chocolate and we'll take Muffit for a walk in the park.  You can play in the snow."

"It's freezing," protested Starbuck.  "Can I come?  I'll come.  Jolly!"

He ran back to the counter. Boxey and Apollo both stared after him.  "He's being funny," said Boxey, and Apollo didn't think that he meant amusing.

"Do you mind Starbuck coming with us?"

"No," said Boxey, slowly.  "Do you, Daddy?"

"No," said Apollo and sighed quietly.  He was tired and actually the last thing he wanted to do was go for a long walk in the cold with someone he was beginning to think he didn't know very well at all.  Getting Boxey back into his cold weather gear took a few centons.  Starbuck used the time to hand over to Jolly and run upstairs to change, collecting Muffit from his office on the way back.  Apollo wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.  It would be stupid to worry about it.  Really stupid.

They didn't talk much on the way to the park.  The snow made walking difficult, meaning that Apollo had to use his cane, so Starbuck took Muffit's leash.  Boxey took Apollo's hand as usual and, after a micron's hesitation, held out his free hand to Starbuck.  Apollo couldn't see too much of Starbuck's expression between the thick   scarf and a ridiculous woolly hat, but the bright blue eyes looked startled and shyly pleased. 

Apollo was still wondering what to make of that when they passed his crow and he took a micron to jiggle with the cane enough to let him brush the snow from its head with a gloved hand.  He grimaced at it.  The carved, intelligent eyes stared back at him, glittering with frost.

They cut through the Kobolian's grounds to reach the Park beyond.  The snow was thicker here, with long stretches over the grass still pristine and sparkling even in the grey light.  Starbuck stooped down and released Muffit from his lead.  The daggit dashed away, Boxey in hot pursuit, yelling.

"I didn't mean to upset him," apologised Starbuck, jamming both hands into his jacket pockets.

"I know." 

"I was feeling a bit guilty.  I hadn't… when I saw Athena I knew she'd say something to you and I wanted to explain… "

"It's fine.  You don’t have to explain anything to me.  It's none of my business."  And Apollo jabbed the cane into the snow so hard that it slipped against the ice underneath.  Starbuck steadied him.  "I'm all right," he said, crossly, shaking free, starting off again after Boxey.

"No."  Starbuck stopped in their slow trudge, and waited until Apollo stopped and turned around.  "No, it's not fine.  I was stupid.  I mean, I didn’t realise… I guess I just… I just got scared."

"That's possibly the most stupid thing I ever heard."

"Yeah, and believe me I've done stupid before."  Starbuck sighed.  "I've done scared before, too.  I'm sorry I ran out on you, Apollo.  I just panicked."

Apollo leaned on his cane, staring down at snow.  "And Cassie?  Did you just panic with her, too?"

"No."  Starbuck's shoulders sagged.  "It was a crappy night out, Apollo.  It was a crappy Yule.  I hadn't intended to go out, but Boomer needed cheering up, and when I found out what was bothering him, I needed it as well."

"Has Dietra dumped him?" asked Apollo, unwilling to get pulled too far into someone else's troubles.

"What?  No.  They're pretty solid, those two.  It's the bakery.  Boomer's lease is coming up and the property manager has told him there's a rival bid for it and the premium and rental are likely to go sky-high.  If Boomer loses the bakery, I can kiss the coffee shop goodbye."

Apollo frowned  "Why?"  

"Because the Cylonic are after the lease.  They put a coffee house there and they'll drive me out of business within sectons.  I just about break even and it's getting better all the time, but I put every cubit I had into the place.  I don't have anything to spare.  And because they're so big, they buy in bulk and they'll be able to undercut me on everything.  I won't stand a chance.  They're so damn ruthless."

"Starbu—"

"Boomer told me just before Greenie got your message to me.  I'm sorry, Apollo.  I just wanted to see you, and… oh, I don't know.  I just wanted to pretend for a few centons that things could go right for me for once.  I realised I wasn't being fair on you, when you went in to see Boxey and I'm such damn coward that all I could think of to do, was do a runner.  I'm sorry."  

Apollo's frown deepened.  Did that mean that Starbuck had just been looking for some comfort and anyone would have done, and he was closer to hand than Cassiopeia?  He pushed the thought aside to worry at it later, and focused on what Starbuck had said about Boomer.  "The property agent has to give Boomer first option."

"Oh, she will.  But Boomer can't afford a higher premium and he can't really afford much of a bigger rent.  The rents are high enough already, and the Galactica Bank can ask for as much as they want."

"Galactica owns your leases?"

Starbuck nodded.  "The Galactica Mutual Trust and Investment Bank.  It's shit, isn't it?  We've had it."

"Well, maybe," said Apollo.  He hesitated.  "I know someone at the bank," he said. "Someone high up who might be able to help."

"They'd have to be pretty high," groused Starbuck.

"Mmn.  Can't get higher."  Apollo, realising that they'd been standing still so long that his feet were freezing and the wind was cutting into him, looked around suddenly.  "Where's Boxey?" he demanded, voice sharp with alarm.

"Over by the pond, I think."  Starbuck straightened up.  "Yeah.  I can see him.  I'll go and get him."

Before Apollo could say anything, Starbuck set off at a fast trot towards the distant little figure, so keen to get away that he was almost running.  Apollo couldn't keep up, even without six or seven inches of snow.  He didn’t even try.  Instead he reached for an inside pocket and made a very quick call on his mobile comlink.

"Well, I may own property in that street," said his father.  "I probably do.  I own a lot of property and I can't remember every address.  I'll check for you tomorrow when I go into the office.  What do you want me to do about it?"

Apollo told him, turning so his back was to the icy wind, and watching as Starbuck, a dark silhouette against the snow, ran up to Boxey.  The two distant shapes chased each other around the pond.  Very faintly, Apollo could hear Muffit barking with delirious excitement.  Muffit liked the snow.

"Well, I suppose I could," said Adama.  "I take it I'm not handing the freeholds over to you because you're abandoning archaeology for the family firm and life as a businessman?"  He chuckled at Apollo's answer.  "I thought not.  Tell me, Apollo, is this the street where your favourite coffee shop is?  I thought so."  Another chuckle.  "Happy New Yahren to you, too, son."

Apollo put away the comlink and pulled his glove over chilled fingers.  Starbuck trudged back towards him.  Boxey behind him, followed in a series of zig zags that took him ranging out far in one direction and then the other.

"He's all right," said Starbuck as soon as he was in range.  He stamped his feet to get the circulation going again.  "I was thinking," he said, abruptly.  "While I was chasing Boxey around the pond, I was thinking.  I'm sorry to burden you with all that stuff about the bakery and Cylonic.  I'm sorry about that.  It's just it's been bothering me.  Not as much as… well, it's been bothering me a bit."

"It's all right.  I don't like the Cylonic Coffee Company, much."

They were silent watching Boxey still at his wide zig-zags, Muffit floundering through the snow behind him, barking and sneezing. 

Apollo moistened dry lips.  "I wish… you hadn't run away that day, you know."

He caught the gleam of Starbuck's eyes underneath the shadow of the woolly hat.  "I wish to Hades that I hadn't run away, as well.  Look, can I ask you something?  It's a bit personal."

Apollo nodded.

"Okay.  It's about you and Joss—"

"Why in Hades does everyone want to talk to me about me and Joss?" demanded Apollo, irritated.  "There hasn't been a me and Joss for almost three yahrens.  There isn't a me and Joss."

Starbuck pushed down his scarf, and every breath he took hung on the air like smoke.  He grinned, and it was the old insouciant grin again.  "Well, I hoped that was it," he said.  "Listen—"  He stopped and suddenly threw out his arms.  "Oh felger," he said again.  "You're right.  This is stupid.  I'm stupid.  I am so, so stupid.  I was stupid to run off that day, and I'm stupid now.  But passing up on you – that would be criminally stupid."

He took two stops forward and kissed Apollo quickly, chastely.  His lips were cold and dry. 

He leaned his forehead against Apollo's, his hands heavy on Apollo's shoulders.  Apollo, effectively silenced, just watched him and waited. 

"Cassie latched on that night, but there's nothing to it.  I wanted to be there with you.  I don't make special blends of coffee for just anyone, you know."

"Joss used to give me heart scarabs," said Apollo.

"I'll stick to coffee."

Apollo nodded, and now he let the smile through.  "I've run out.  Of that special blend, I mean."

"Would you like me to make you some more?"

Apollo leaned in and for the first time, he kissed Starbuck.  A proper kiss.  He was breathless when he pulled free.  "I wouldn't mind."

"Oh good," said Boxey, materialising beside them without warning.  "You aren't mad anymore."

"No," said Apollo.  "I don't think we ever were."






Epilogue

Apollo leaned in and kissed him, this time tilting his head to fit his mouth to Starbuck's at exactly the right angle.  Starbuck tasted nice.  Starbuck tasted of coffee, of course.  Starbuck made a small noise in the back of his throat, a needy little noise, almost a whimper.  He curled his hand around the back of Apollo's neck and kissed him back, pressing his mouth against Apollo's and whispering something, Apollo couldn’t tell what, against Apollo's lips.  Apollo parted them to let him in.

He was kissing Starbuck, and this time it wasn't sweet and affectionate.  This was demanding and hot.  Starbuck rolled on top of him, smooth and easy.  It felt right.  It felt like they'd always been doing it, this hot demanding kissing, as if they always would.

Apollo ran his hands down Starbuck's sides, loving the feel of a hard body pressed up against him,  It felt right, too.  It felt like a long time since he'd done this with anyone, a long time of grief and loneliness, but the way that Starbuck pressed against him now?  That was right.  It felt good to touch and feel and have Starbuck touch and feel him back,

Starbuck's kisses were slow and unhurried, languorous, dreamy—guaranteed to get Apollo wanting more.  His cock pressed against Starbuck's hip and Starbuck chuckled against Apollo's mouth, his hands stroking down Apollo's sides.  He put his hand over Apollo's cock.

Light exploded behind Apollo's closed eyelids, and his breath came hard and difficult.  He moved his hips, pushing himself into Starbuck's hand.  Starbuck chuckled again and pulled back, sitting up and reaching with his free hand for Apollo's shirt. 

"Lords," said Apollo, laughing.  "Kids could do better than this."  He sat up and pulled the shirt over his head without unbuttoning it, enjoying the way that Starbuck's eyes widened and darkened and the hand on Apollo's cock pressed harder. 

"I'll have to take my hand away," said Starbuck, plucking ineffectually at his own shirt, and he positively whined.

The feeling in Apollo's chest bloomed into such warmth that he felt he'd melt from it.  "It'll still be there when you come back," he said, and Starbuck threw back his head and laughed, as joyous and uninhibited as a boy.

And then, suddenly, they were naked and if Apollo were to be asked how they managed it, he wouldn't be able to tell.  He'd only be able to say how Starbuck wrapped his arms around Apollo, pressing skin to skin, and that Starbuck was warm and his skin smooth under Apollo's fingers.  He'd be able to say how Starbuck's skin tasted as golden as it looked, with the faint tang of salt; and when he licked his way along Starbuck's collarbone, the sweat had gathered in the hollows of his throat, so the salt was stronger and sweeter.  He'd be able to say that Starbuck's fingers trailed over his nipples like fire, sending bolts of lightning to Apollo's groin, and that the kisses were no longer soft and languid, but turned Apollo's heart inside out.  But how they got naked?  That he'd never be able to tell.

He knelt over Starbuck, the tip of his cock brushing against Starbuck's stomach. Starbuck fisted it, and Apollo gasped at the rush of pleasure.  Dear Lords, he'd missed this.  He'd wanted it with Starbuck, so much.

"Apollo," Starbuck whispered. 

He pulled Apollo down over him, bare skin to bare skin.  Starbuck shoved up against Apollo and Apollo ground back down against him and it was like lightning and glory, so much heat and the feeling of Starbuck's hard cock against his own.  Apollo leaned down and kissed Starbuck's shoulders, working his way up Starbuck's throat until he reached Starbuck's mouth, the two of them rocking against each other, panting into each other's mouths, 

Starbuck slid his hand between them, fisting Apollo's cock inside his warm, dry palm.  Apollo somehow managed to follow suit, although a tiny portion of his mind laughed with delight at the picture they must make, backs curving like contortionists to stay in contact, rubbing each other's cocks, kissing and gasping and panting.  He had Starbuck's cock in his hand, squeezing and running his fingers over it; and it suddenly it was so simple and so profound, so right and yet so deep that he couldn't find the words for it. 

Starbuck rubbed his hand over the head of Apollo cock, giving it a peculiar little twist that had Apollo moaning out loud.  Starbuck caught the moan in his mouth and did it again, and then Apollo was riding the surge of pleasure, trying not to yell too loudly, grinding into Starbuck and Starbuck was groaning and Starbuck's kisses lit the lightning that flickered through every nerve until the pleasure was almost pain and Apollo was spilling all over Starbuck's hand, and Starbuck was pumping hot thick come over Apollo's fingers.  They shuddered against each other, panting, slowing the kisses, letting the kisses cool them down.

Starbuck rolled Apollo over until they were side by side, and lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean.  It sent a little jolt to Apollo's groin and he followed suit, licking slowly and luxuriously.

Starbuck smiled.  "And that was just for starters, he said, leering.  "That was just me letting my boyish nature getting the better of me."

Apollo let his breathing slow.  "It's called premature ejaculation, Starbuck, and you can get treatment for it, you know."

"It's called 'Boxey is sleeping only a couple of rooms away and I don't want to wake him up'," said Starbuck.

"Lords, no," agreed Apollo.  He stretched out, revelling in the warmth.  "I'll work out some way of telling him, though."

"You do that, because I definitely want to do this again.  I've wanted to do it for sectars.  Ever since you marched into my coffee shop and gave me hell about missing apostrophes."  He stroked Apollo's face with gentle fingers.

"I may have taken a little longer," admitted Apollo.  "You know, I don't really care about the apostrophe."

Starbuck laughed  "I never did."  He nuzzled Apollo's neck.  "I do care about you, Apollo."

"I know," said Apollo.

Starbuck's smile was slow and sleepy now.  Apollo reached down for the quilt and pulled it up over them, and snuggled in.  Tomorrow he'd tell Starbuck that the coffee shop and the bakery were safe.  Tomorrow he'd think about the rest of his life and how he would spend it in coffee shops and maybe he'd be a partner, a sleeping partner, and they'd hit back hard at the Cylonic Coffee Company for everything it had done.  Tomorrow he'd tell Starbuck again that he didn't care about that apostrophe.  But he wouldn't do it right then.  Right then, he'd prefer to slide an arm around Starbuck and press up close.

So he did.

He closed his eyes and followed Starbuck down into sleep, smiling.

~end~
21,798 words

October 2009

Note
This grew from one entry in the Genres Meme - a single sentence to show each of 30 genres. This one was AU : " The new owner—Starbuck, according to his name badge and the new sign outside—had one helluva skilled hand with those coffee beans and was damned good looking to boot; and Apollo, who was finding more and more excuses to haunt his favourite coffee shop, finally plucked up the courage to ask for a chocolate muffin to go with his pumpkin spiced double-shot dry latte with an extra pump of sugar-free vanilla and chocolate sprinkles on top."