Disclaimer: NOT MINE. Rating: er... 13+?
SPOILERS: Res Ship 1 and 2.
Pairing: Cally/Chief.
Notes: This one's for Tim, who is, as always, evil.

Shooting Daisies
by ALC Punk!

Letting go.


He was getting good at that. It took Galen a moment to realize he'd staggered into one of the disused storage rooms. He was probably drunk.

Scratch that.

He patted the wall he'd run into.

Very drunk.


Oh, great. Just who he needed to see. If this kept up next thing, the dead Cylon would wander through, accusing him of murdering her unborn children by stopping their relationship.

Cally touched his shoulder. "Chief?"

If he closed his eyes and thought really hard, maybe she'd go away.

"C'mon, Chief, talk to me."

"Why did it have to be you?"


No more drinking.



She was still looking confused when he turned and dragged her close enough to kiss. It was sloppy and missed her mouth, grazing her cheek. He lost his balance, but she caught them both pressing him into the shelf.

"Sir, I don't--"

This time, he had the correct angle and direction.

Cally let out a soft little squeak.

Then she kissed him back.


So in trouble.

"Chief." She pulled back, her voice somewhat odd sounding. She sucked in a breath. He could feel that against his chest. Against her chest. Ooh, Cally really did have--GODS. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that sort of thing. At all. She was Cally, his right-hand. Ooh. His right hand was discovering uncharted territory.

"Galen. You're drunk. Sir." But she didn't step away, and she didn't hit him, and she damned sure didn't tell him to remove his hand from her ass.


"Shut up."

He could do that. He could SO do that. Especially since she was kissing him again, and doing this thing with her tongue that--yeah.

Then she stopped. And completely stepped away, and took his wrist.

Tyrol felt suddenly cold.

"It's nice." Cally looked at him. "We can try it again, when you're not drunk."


"Get some sleep, Chief."

Then she was gone. And he was leaning against a shelf, wondering if he was really drunk.

After all, that hadn't been real. Had it?

He shifted, and the still-bruised sections of his abdomen ached. Yeah. Real.

Maybe he should see about getting sober.