Title: The Secret
Author: nazkey
Summary: They think they have everyone fooled.
Characters: Kara/Lee
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Pairing: K/L
Word Count: ~1,300
Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff, so please don't sue.
Author Notes: I realized how much I missed the show and these two after reading all the awesome stories of my FListers re. D*C and having seen all the pictures. Going through the files of unwritten stuff on my desktop, I found this. I don't really remember when I wrote it, but I do remember it was a comment!fic of sorts when it started. It hasn't been beta'ed, so the bad writing is all me. I just cleaned it up a bit and posted, thinking that maybe this will encourage me to start writing again.

They circle around each other on the deck.

In the ops room.

In the CIC.

In the bunk room.

In the showers.

In the rec room.

Every where.

They dance their secret steps.

One step forward, two steps back

Three to the right and four to the left.

They never lose eye contact.

He pushes. She pushes back.

He yells. She gets in his face.

He pouts. She mocks.

He storms off. She snickers and shrugs her shoulders.

But if you look deep in their eyes, for every action & reaction, you'll see fire.

Hers is a blaze of green & gold that ignites the ice cold blue of his.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

They think no one knows.

They're wrong.

On the deck, the Chief and Cally are busy towing in Starbuck's singed viper when Apollo storms over and starts screaming at her.

"What the FRAK do you think you're doing out there Starbuck?" He yells, the veins on his neck bulging, his face red with rage.

"My job … sir." She retorts, standing just a little straighter with her hands on her hips and a challenge in her eyes.

"Does your job include getting yourself killed? Because that sure as frak looked like what you were doing out there." Lee steps closer, crossing the line into her personal space.

The deck crew stops and starts moving closer. The Starbuck & Apollo Show is on, and it's not to be missed. Chief looks over at Cally and rolls his eyes, "Here we go again," he mutters and she smiles and shakes her head.

"My job, sir, is to blow as many of those frakkers out of the sky as possible and that's exactly what I did," Kara grinds out between clenched teeth and takes a step closer, challenging him, daring him to close the few inches left between them. "So I don't exactly see what the problem is here … sir."

Lee clenches and unclenches his fists, takes that last step forward and leaning in, touches his forehead to hers. "You … I can't … you frakking can't keep doing this Kara. I can't lose you. Do you hear me? I. Can't. Lose. You." His hands move up and rest on her hips.

She closes her eyes and clutches his uniform, "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I … I'll be more careful. I promise."

The Chief looks around at the crew and motions them to get back to work. Give them the space they need. They all turn away and pretend to be busy and only turn around when Starbuck lets out the inevitable smart-ass remark and Apollo comes back with a not so witty comeback, having stepped out their little cocoon, back to being the CAG and his hotshot problem pilot.

"Good thing I'm there to save your ass Apollo. Seriously, how many times is it now?"

"Yeah, I'm so lucky to have you around Starbuck. My ass is eternally grateful."

If she looks a bit smug as she smirks in his face, or if the tips of his ears turn pink, no one mentions it.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

In the ops room, the senior staff is huddled around the map. They've been at it for hours, trying to figure out the best way to approach the new planetoid. They need food and early recon reports show evidence of vegetation on the little hunk of rock that lays about two jumps away. Problem is, there are two Cylon Baseships orbiting the same space.

"Who'd have thought the frakking toasters needed to eat!" grumbles Tigh looking over at the Admiral who just shakes his head and sighs.

"They don't. They're just there to make sure we don't get to eat." Adama's tired. Hours of back and forth, and nothing. No one's been able to come up with a viable plan. He looks over at Starbuck and Apollo, huddled with their heads together. They'd come over straight from an aborted CAP, the sleeves of their flight suits tied in a knot over their hips. The Admiral watches closely as Lee leans in and whispers in Kara's ear. She lets out a whooping laugh and casually touches his bare arm. He smiles back and gives her a little shove.

"You two come up with something?"

"Yes sir," Starbuck says, her brilliant smile lighting up the room.

"We have," Lee chimes in, placing his hand in the small of her back as they walk back to the ops table.

They start mapping out the complex plan in minutes. Oblivious to everyone else, they move the viper models around the board, finishing each others' sentences.

"And then we can …"

"Yeah, and if we put this ..."

"… here and move the 2nd squadron …"

"… there, we can …"


The Admiral looks bemused as the XO scowls and demands that they clue the rest of them in, for frak's sake.

If they look a little confused as the XO's voice snaps them out of their private world, turn and smile sheepishly at everyone in the room, still encroached on each others' personal space, no one mentions it.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

In the CIC, Dee smiles every time she hears their bantering insults on the comms and shares a quick wink with Gaeta across the panels. When one of them is on duty at the ops station, and starts biting her nails listening to the battle commands of the other, Dee silently hands over a headset and turns on a private channel, then walks away.

If they see her wipe a tear off her face as he lands his bird safely, tear the headset off and high tail it out of the CIC with a quick & sloppy salute and a shout that she's "going to frakking kill that idiot," no one comments.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

After a harrowing day in the sky, when the lights go out in the bunk rooms, and they're both off shift, and huddled together in his bunk ("because really Kara, how the frak do you sleep in that mess?" and "Oh, I don't know Lee, I don't usually sleep there, if you get my drift." "Haha. You're a crack up, Starbuck.") no where to be found, the pilots look at each other and smile knowingly. One of them (usually Helo), gets up and draws the curtains shut in case the XO walks in unannounced.

If they ever see them standing a little too close, pushed against the lockers, whispering and occasionally touching, no one comments.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

In the showers, everyone pretends not to hear the sounds: the small moans and gasps, the muffled cries out to the deities and the giggling. Everyone goes about their business and when they come out with their towels wrapped around them, everyone acts like they didn't just step out of the same stall. Apollo jokes about Starbuck's hygiene and she throws a wet towel at his face.

If they'd heard a hushed "Kara" and "Lee" just 30 seconds ago, no one comments.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

In the rec room, as she wins hand after hand of triad and downs shot after shot, everyone pretends not to notice that she stops drinking only when he starts frowning at her.

If they happen to leave within minutes of each other (he with excuses about paperwork, and she with snide remarks of how boring it is playing cards with amateurs), no one comments.

They're Starbuck & Apollo.

This is their dance.

So they dance their secret dance.

One step forward, two steps back

Three to the right and four to the left.

They never lose eye contact.

They think they have everyone fooled.

They're wrong.