“It’s a religious festival, Dad.”  Boxey rolled his eyes in exaggerated despair.  “Don’t you know anything?”

“I know a lot, thank you very much,” Apollo said, offended, and trying to avoid his own father’s sardonic eye.  “This one just slipped past me, that’s all.”

“Religion usually does, I’ve noticed,” Adama murmured, apparently to no-one in particular. 

“That’s not fair, is it?  I know all my Kobolian ones, off by heart.  I even still go to Temple.”

“Now and again,” conceded Adama.  “When you’ve run out of excuses.”

“It’s a Hinndee festival,” Boxey explained.  “Sanjit’s this boy in my class and he’s a Hinndee and he told us all about it.  He goes to a different temple to ours and it has statues and things.  Holi happens in the Spring and it’s about being glad that Winter’s over.  Everybody has lots of fun.”

“Well, that rules your father out,” Adama said, still apparently to no-one in particular.

“And whose genes did I inherit?” Apollo demanded, stung.

“Ah, but I’ve mellowed with age.”

“I probably will too, then.  But since I’ve about fifty yahrens to go to catch up with you, you’ll just have to make do with me the way I am.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Adama assured him.

“Are you two finished fighting?” Boxey asked, interested.

“Your grandfather and me don’t fight.  We just discuss things.”

“Oh,” said Boxey, doubtful.  “All right.  But will you promise to come and play Holi with us?  Everyone else’s Mom and Dad will be there.”  Big brown eyes were suddenly shiny with threatened tears.  “You never come to school things.”

“I do so!  I was there for your Yule play.  You were massively miscast as an angel.”

“You were late.  You’re always late, and I’d said nearly all my lines and you missed them.  You haven’t even read my teacher’s note about today.  Promise you’ll come and play Holi with us.”

Apollo swallowed back a sigh, realizing that Boxey had some justice for his complaint.  “I’ll be there,” he said, with a quick glance at his father.  “If the Commander will let me off duty early.”

“I suppose I can spare you,” Adama said, and Apollo could only be grateful that the old man left it at that and didn’t add any sarcastic comments about not noticing the difference anyway.

Boxey didn’t appear to be mollified.  “He’ll still be late,” he said to his grandfather.

“I’ll make sure he gets there on time,” Adama said, reassuringly.  “Promise.”

“But it’s still no good!  Everyone else has a Mom and a Dad coming to play with us!  It’s no good if it’s just him.”  And before Apollo even had time to feel hurt, Boxey said, very quietly and with the threatened tears even closer, “I miss my Mom.”

Apollo forgot everything in the need to comfort Boxey.  “I know,” he said, and pulled the child onto his knees for a big hug.  “I know.”

Boxey usually protested that at seven he was far too old for being held on someone’s knee like a baby, but he let Apollo hold him this once, snuggling in close.  “Everyone else has a Mom and a Dad.  I want two of you, too.”

“Now that’s a good idea,” Adama murmured in the background.

Apollo felt like imitating Boxey and rolling his eyes.  “Well, I’ll bring someone, all right?”

“Who?”

Good question.  Apollo thought briefly of Sheba, and just as quickly discarded the idea.  He didn’t doubt that Sheba would go – she was always eager to try and make an impression on Boxey - but he did doubt that Boxey would be pleased about it.  Boxey was as smart as his dead mother.  He knew that Sheba was angling to Seal with Apollo, and he didn’t like it.  He didn’t like Sheba.  Come to think on it, Apollo wasn’t sure he liked her much either.  He didn’t like bright smiles that hid a glassy sharpness underneath and he wasn’t that desperate to have her replace Serina, even to oblige Boxey in the matter of having two parents to turn up at school events

“How about Grandpa?”

“I can’t,” Adama said quickly.  Suspiciously quickly.  “I’ve got a meeting.  But you can come and tell me all about it, Boxey, when you get back from school.  I’ll come and pick you up and you can have a grown up supper with me.”

Still a little suspicious about the speed of that denial, Apollo considered alternatives.  Well, there was someone else who might like to come.  And if he didn’t, well Apollo hadn’t won his Captain’s bars out of a disinclination to give orders.  “How about if I bring Starbuck?  He’ll enjoy playing.” 

Boxey considered the proposal and nodded.  “All right.  Starbuck’ll do.”

“I’ll tell him.  He’ll be flattered.  Now say goodbye to your Grandpa.  If we don’t leave for school now, we’ll both be late and your teacher will be mad at me.”

“What about Grandpa?  Is he going to walk to school with us?”

“He’s going to clean the dishes and lock up for me.  It’s the least he can do after turning up to con breakfast out of us and making you late for school.”

Adama shook his head at him while Boxey collected things like schoolbags and half-heartedly done homework.  “Boxey was right, you know, all those sectars ago.  You’re not stupid exactly, my son, but sometimes you can be slow.  You really have no idea what Holi is about, do you?”

“Does it matter?” Apollo asked, impatient to be off.

“That depends.  Remind me to check with you later.”

 

 

“Are you sure about this?” Starbuck asked.  “I mean, it just seems odd that all the parents have been asked to go in their oldest clothes.  I never had a school offering me sartorial advice before.”

“Me neither.”  Apollo hunted up the box of mushies that was his contribution to the feast and hustled Starbuck out of his quarters.  He’d promised Boxey he’d be on time and he really didn’t want to break that promise.

“Ah, but I don’t need it.  You certainly do.”  Starbuck’s eyes brightened when he saw the box.  “Mushies?”

“Uh-huh.  We were all asked to bring something for a party.  It’s the best I can do at short notice, seeing as I didn’t get time to read the teacher’s note until a centar ago.”

“It’ll be more than enough.  I would have loved a Dad like you, Apollo.  Are there any choco-mushies in there?  If there are, they’re mine, and will you be my Daddy too?”

“No, and no.  The instructions were that all the food was to be brightly coloured, so I got us strawberry, blueberry and orange flavours.”  Apollo noticed the fleeting look of disappointment and thought he’d better offer encouragement and solace.  “With lots of frosting, though.”

Starbuck brightened.  “Well, that makes up for having to dress like a bum.”

Starbuck looked casual, but anything other than a bum.  Apollo having eventually found and read the email of instructions from Boxey’s teacher – buried in an in-box several hundred mails deep - they were both in the oldest things they could find.  Starbuck was in an old denim shirt and jeans, but he still looked cool and good in them, and Apollo found himself noticing that they made the Lieutenant’s eyes impossibly blue.  He tore his gaze away and glanced down at his own cream shirt and jeans.

“These have seen better days,” he acknowledged, tugging on a frayed cuff.

“What’s Holi all about?” Starbuck asked.  “Most religious festivals, you dress to impress.  This is the first dress-down festival I’ve ever heard of.”

Apollo shrugged.  “Dunno.  There was an earlier email from the school, but I didn’t have time to find it.  Maybe that explained it all.  I did try to find a centon this afternoon to look it up, but every time I put “Holi” into the search box, I got called away to do something else.”

“A joyful surprise awaits us then.”  They rounded a corner to the corridor where the Galactica’s school was sited, and Starbuck laughed when he saw the collected parents.  “Looks like a Hobo convention.  We’re the smartest here, and it’s not often anyone can say that of you.”

Apollo was just grateful they’d got there before the parents had all been called in.  The children were nowhere to be seen, and although Boxey’s teacher had come out to talk to the assembled parents, he could sidle up to the back of the crowd with a pleasing, self satisfied sense of duty done and promises kept.  He was on time.

Boxey’s teacher was young and pretty.  She was wearing some sort of garland around her neck, and had the dab of red paint on her forehead that Apollo vaguely associated with Hinndee-ism, probably a half-memory of the mostly-forgotten religious classes at school when he’d been Boxey’s age.  She had a nice voice, too.  “I’m glad you were all able to come and that you’re all prepared.  Please come in now.  We’ll play Holi first, and then have tea.  There’s table at the far end for the food.”  She smiled at them all, and Apollo thought nervously that there was a large amount of pity in her expression. “The children have been getting ready for this all afternoon, decorating the schoolroom, and I promise you that they’re all very excited.”

“That sounds more like a threat,” Starbuck said softly.

“Oh it is.” Apollo followed the parental mob.  “If we’re lucky, the Cylons will hit and Dad’ll call an alert.”

“I guess it’s too late to back out now?”

“Boxey will never forgive you,” Apollo said, taking firm hold of Starbuck’s arm with his free hand, the better for preventing strategic retreat and, incidentally, to ensure that he had someone to share the misery.  He was more unnerved by the teacher’s compassionate smile than he would have been by a flight of Cylon raiders.  “He wants two parents here today.”

“And I’m the best you can get?”  Starbuck gave him an odd look.

“You’re *all* I could get.  We do not disappoint Boxey, understood?  I promised him.  And what’s more important, from your point of view, is that you let me down here and I’ll take it out on you for the rest of the yahren.”

“It’s cool.  I love kids.  And I really love excited kids.  Even yours.”  Starbuck grinned down at the kid in question.  “Hey, tiger.”

Boxey beamed back.  “You got him here on time.  Thanks, uncle Starbuck.”

“Hey, *I* brought *him*,” protested Apollo.

Boxey looked sceptical.  “The food goes over there.  You’d better hurry, Dad, or you’ll miss it all as usual.”

“You love him, you can have him.”  Apollo gave Starbuck and Boxey a cold look, but they both only laughed.

He took the box of mushies across to the table, relieved to see, when he got there, that he wasn’t the only parent who’d been too busy to bake.  And given his rudimentary culinary abilities, just as well too.  Boxey’s teacher accepted the mushies with a delight that he couldn’t quite believe in, but he didn’t bother to question it, aware of his son’s anxious gaze. 

When he got back Boxey sighed in relief.  “Bend down so’s I can reach,” he instructed, and as Apollo stooped obediently, he hung a coloured-paper garland around his father’s neck.  There was one for Starbuck, too.  “We made these for you.  Miss made us cut out loads and loads of little flowers, and put them on string.”  Boxey eyed them both critically.  “I think they’re soppy and you look pretty stupid.  I said we should cut out paper Vipers, but she said she couldn’t draw Vipers.”

“Couldn’t you draw one for her?”  Starbuck asked.

Boxey sighed.  “I tried, but Sanjit said it looked like a sausage with wings.  You have to have flowers for Holi, not sausages.  We did all the garlands in the room too.”  He paused to receive a fitting accolade and admiration, then handed each of them a box.  “Here’s your boxes.”

“What’s in here?” Apollo asked.

“The Holi powder, of course.  Don’t open it!  It’s not time yet!  Not till Miss says we can.”  Boxey’s scowl could rival the Commander’s and he used it to full effect.  Apollo meekly replaced the lid he’d pulled half off.

“Sheesh, he’s as bad tempered and as bossy as you,” Starbuck said admiringly.  “That’s the way you’re raising him, that is.  After all, its not like the kid actually has any of your DNA.”

“You can worry about what he’d be like if he did,” Apollo said, and was ruthlessly hushed as the teacher came into the middle of the room.

“Now we all remember what Holi’s about, don’t we?  It’s about Spring and rebirth, and feasting after a long hard Winter, and having lots of fun.  Has everyone got their powder?”  There was a chorus of loud and excited reassurance from the assembled children, with a less assured rumble from the parents.  “All right then, open your boxes!”

Apollo pulled the lid off his box.  It was full of a fine powder, a dazzling scarlet.  “What’s this?”

“Take an handful…”  The teacher dug her hand into her own box and it came up a violent purple.  “… and let the fun begin!  Happy Holi!”

Apollo looked up from his box just in time to realize that Starbuck had slid to a place of relative safety behind him and that Boxey was throwing something at him.  The world exploded in a soft blue haze as he got the handful of powder full in the face.  Astonished, he just stood there, blinking the stuff out of his eyes.

“Wow,” said Boxey, evidently awed, then shrieked in laughter.  “Wow!  Happy Holi!” 

 

 

“And where’s Boxey?” asked Commander Adama, eyeing his son and his son’s best friend with very ill concealed amusement.

“In the turbowash,” Apollo said.  “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Well, my son, the advantage of the religious mind is that I remember what these things are all about and can arrange convenient meetings to keep me safe.” Adama sounded smug.  “You two look very colourful.  I do hope it washes off.”

“So do I,” Starbuck said cheerfully.

Apollo looked at Starbuck.  The Lieutenant was caked in coloured powder from head to foot, red, blue and purple, looking like a clown who’d carelessly fallen into the vat where the rainbow was mixed.  Apollo knew that he looked just as bad, if not worse.  Although they’d shaken off most of the loose stuff, the powder had caked on, staining skin and clothes in gaudy motley.  Given the astonished and amused glances they got on the long walk home, the pair of them were a sight to see.  Half the people they’d passed had been warriors.  Apollo thought that he’d never be able to maintain discipline in the ranks ever again.  He might as well resign his commission right this centon.

“Why aren’t you sitting down, Lieutenant?”  Adama asked.

“Apollo won’t let me, sir.  He says I’ll leave a stain on the cover.”

“That’s not very hospitable,” Adama said, then smiled as his grandson hurtled into the room from the bathroom, naked and pink and shining clean.  “Ah, at least it does wash off.  Hurry and get dressed, Boxey.”

Boxey hurried into the pants and tunic Apollo had thoughtfully got ready.  “Grandpa, it was awesome!  Miss said to start Holi, and I was all ready and I got Dad right in the face before he knew it!  He looked amazing.”

“He still does,” murmured Adama.  He smiled blandly at the look Apollo gave him.

“He looks great, doesn’t he?”  Boxey beamed approval.  “He and Starbuck chased me all round the room.  Dad rubbed red powder all over my face, and Starbuck had orange powder.  That orange.”  Boxey pointed to the violent carroty shade of his father’s hair.  “Isn’t it brilliant?  We got Dad into the corner of the room and Starbuck tripped him up and I sat on him, and Starbuck poured the last of his box over Dad’s head and rubbed it right in.  That was because Dad had put red powder down the back of Starbuck’s neck.  And Miss got us with some purple, and I had two strawberry mushies afterward and some of the sweets that Sanjit’s Mom made.  They were great.”

“Wonderful.  Come and tell me all about it.  We’ll leave the two harlequins to clean up.  And Apollo…”

“Yes?”

“You definitely don’t suit red hair.”

Apollo sniffed and let them go without further comment.  Without a word to Starbuck he headed into the bathroom, aware that the Lieutenant was trailing along behind him.

“Are you mad with me for some reason?”  Starbuck asked

“You knew, didn’t you?  When Boxey got me with that stuff, you dodged behind me out of the way.  You knew I was going to get it right in the face.”

Starbuck shrugged, and looked around the scene of devastation that was the bathroom after Boxey had used it.  “Unlike you, I took five centons to complete the computer search.”

“You told me you didn’t know what was going on!”

“Ah well.  I thought you knew, really, and I figured I’d enjoy listening to your lame explanations for dragging me along to get deep dyed.  And then I figured that if you didn’t know, then it was too good a chance to miss out on the expression on your face when the Holi powder hit.  Like Boxey said, it was awesome!”

Apollo hoped his expression was visible under the layer of powder.  He hoped it looked as unfriendly and unwelcoming as he felt.  “And you’re still here, why precisely?”

“Think back to my humble quarters, Captain.  All I rate is a sonic shower.  The least you can do is let me clean up here in real hot water.”

“Shit,” Apollo muttered.  He’d forgotten about the lack of showers in less privileged quarters.  He hurried over to check out the water meter.  Dammit!  Boxey was always too careless!

“No hot water?”

“Enough for one,” Apollo said gloomily.  “I can’t exceed the water ration again.  Last time the Quarter Master said she’d keelhaul me, or something, and I think she meant it.”

“Then we’ll have to share,” said Starbuck, with unimpaired good humour.

Apollo stiffened slightly at that, then shrugged.  It wasn't like he’d never seen Starbuck naked - there were too many Triad matches with communal showers behind them for that - but it would be the first time that he’d have seen Starbuck naked in his quarters.  What difference could that make?  None.  Nothing to worry about.  It’d be a breeze. 

“I guess,” he said, trying to sound indifferent, and wondering why his pulse was quickening.   He shucked out of the brilliantly hued shirt and pants, carefully not looking in Starbuck’s direction, stepped into the shower cubicle and started the water running as hot as he could bear it.

Starbuck crowded in after him.  “Even having to share, what a luxury!”

Apollo looked at him and laughed.  The water was turning the powder into coloured streaks.  If Starbuck had looked exotic enough before, now he was even more bright and vivid, like a tropical bird.  Starbuck grinned back, his eyes bright in the multihued face.

“You look pretty colourful yourself, ‘Pollo.  Here, stand still…”  He poured a generous handful of cleanser into one palm, and reached up.  “Your Dad’s right.  You just don’t hack it as a carrot top.”

He rubbed vigorously at Apollo’s thick hair.  Apollo let him, enjoying having his hair washed, enjoying having Starbuck do it.

“There,” said Starbuck.  He pushed Apollo’s head under the jet for a micron, to rinse it, and Apollo laughed again.  Starbuck gave Apollo a quick look, then with less cleanser on his hands and an oddly tentative expression on his face, he started on smoothing his hands over Apollo’s forehead and letting his fingers trace down over the high cheekbones to the chin and throat.

At some point, Apollo stopped breathing and stopped thinking.  He said and did nothing that might make Starbuck stop, just living the feeling of those long fingers moving over his skin.

“There,” Starbuck said again, and his voice was husky.  “Now you look a bit more like the Apollo I remember.”

Apollo tried to grin at him.  He took the tube of cleaner from the rack, and squeezed it over his hands to return the favour.  He was careful not to dislodge the hands that Starbuck still had cupped round his face, and, when Starbuck made to move one of them, the murmur of protest he made was enough to make the Lieutenant stay still.  The hand that had almost moved from his cheek rubbed against him slightly, Starbuck fanning out the long fingers to brush their way along Apollo’s cheekbones.

Apollo got the coloured streaks out of Starbuck’s hair, concentrating mostly on looking into the wide blue eyes that stared back into his.  He cleaned Starbuck’s face and neck with the same gentle care the Lieutenant had shown towards him, seeing, almost without noticing, that using the cleanser on Starbuck had been enough to get the powder off his hands.

He let his hands rest on the line of Starbuck’s jaw.  Starbuck moistened his lips, and he was fascinated by the red tip of Starbuck’s tongue snaking out to lick at the full underlip.  He wondered what it would taste of.  Almost before knowing he was doing it, he leaned forward, Starbuck’s hands guiding him in, and tried it, his mouth fitting perfectly over the Lieutenant’s.

Starbuck tasted of blueberry mushie and java, with a faint hint of toothcleanser in the background.  Starbuck didn’t seem to mind being kissed.  He seemed to like it.  He kissed right back, so hard and so wholeheartedly that Apollo wasn’t entirely certain if the drowning sensation came from the water running down over their heads or from Starbuck’s kiss.

Starbuck pulled his mouth free.  “Bed,” he said urgently, and they fell out of the shower, still kissing, arms around each other’s wet bodies. 

It wasn't possible.  It was too far to go.  Conscious only of the ragingly hot pressure in his groin and the heat of Starbuck’s mouth, Apollo pulled them down onto the discarded pile of clothes lying in a heap on the bathroom floor, not once breaking the contact between their lips and tongues.  His hands roamed over Starbuck’s back and buttocks as they rolled on the floor, and he could feel the Lieutenant’s hard shaft digging into his thigh.  He slid one hand down Starbuck’s wet side, and managed to get it in between them, fingers curling around Starbuck’s cock and gripping it in a way that made the Lieutenant moan against his mouth.

“Inside.  You.  Now,” Starbuck said, getting his mouth free again in short bursts, each word punctuated by kisses. 

Apollo rolled onto his side, and Starbuck, his mouth back in constant contact again, somehow scrambled over him until he was behind him.  Apollo had to twist his head to keep in contact, and almost cried out in disappointment when Starbuck pulled away.  Starbuck kissed the back of his shoulder and his hand smoothed down Apollo’s side and between them.  Still dripping wet from the shower, it slid without resistance down between his buttocks and toyed lightly with the entrance to his body.

“Please.”  It was all Apollo could say, and he bent the knee of his uppermost leg to give Starbuck an easier angle.

It felt like fire, going in.  His back arched in the momentary discomfort, and Starbuck petted him and soothed him with his other hand, raining little kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders.  After a centon or two, he felt the finger withdraw, to be replaced with two, pushing slowly up into him, writhing and scissoring to get him ready for the big cock he’d already had in his hands.  Reminded, he reached behind him to find it again, trailing his fingers down to the heavy balls beneath, but then Starbuck’s wicked fingers found his prostate, and he cried out, his hand closing convulsively on Starbuck’s cock. 

For a few centons he moved on Starbuck’s hand, letting it open him up, keeping his hand curved around Starbuck’s cock and balls, stroking them to the same rhythm.

“Now?” Starbuck said in his ear, and when Apollo nodded wordlessly, he pulled his hand free and lifted Apollo’s upper leg.  Apollo hooked his leg over Starbuck’s elbow and pushed back to meet the incredible pressure of that big cock pushing against his entrance, spreading him, breaching him with a heat that felt like it was melting him.  The tight little ring of muscles resisted for a micron, and he had to bite his lip against the pain, but Starbuck didn’t stop, pressing firmly on the little pucker until the muscles suddenly relaxed, and the head was in.

“Starbuck!”

Starbuck laughed softly in his ear, and reaching up under the leg hooked over his arm, spread his hand on Apollo’s chest, pulling him back so they were almost one body they were so close.  He pushed slowly and inexorably, forcing the rest of his heavy cock to follow where the head had led the way.  He was slow and careful, obviously trying not to hurt, when all Apollo wanted was to take it all, to be filled, and to be fucked until he cried. 

“I love you,” Starbuck said, quiet and husky in Apollo’s ear, his mouth against the thick dark hair.  He pulled back and moved slowly back into Apollo again, gently stretching him, getting him ready for it.  “I’ve wanted this for so long.  So long.”

Apollo could only nod, as Starbuck moved slowly in him again.  And again.   And again.  Starbuck’s hand, still palm-flat against him, moved down over his ribs, across his stomach, which arched under his touch, to find his cock.  Swatting away Apollo’s own hand, Starbuck took over, sliding his hand up to the weeping slit at the head and down again to the root, again and again to the same slow rhythm as his cock, moving inside Apollo’s body, pushed up deep into his guts, each thrust rubbing the little gland until Apollo was almost screaming with the pleasure.  His other hand gentled Apollo’s hair constantly, smoothing it with trembling fingers.

“Now?” Starbuck asked again.

“Oh please,” Apollo managed to speak.  “Please fuck me, Starbuck.  Please just fuck me.”

Another laugh, another scattering of kisses on his hair and neck, and Starbuck was moving, ramming him faster and faster, hammering his way home on each thrust.  Apollo pushed back to meet each plunge of Starbuck’s hips, twisting onto his belly slightly so that Starbuck was lying on top of him now and his cock, instead of rubbing past Apollo’s prostate, pounded on it with every stroke.

And then Starbuck was shouting Apollo’s name, and ramming his cock home once, twice, a third time; shooting hot jism on each spasm, and with each spasm, Apollo felt an answering contraction in his own balls, and he shot out long hot ropes of jism over Starbuck’s hand, exploding in the mightiest orgasm of his life.

Starbuck collapsed shuddering onto Apollo’s back, and they lay gasping for a long time, spent and exhausted.  Apollo closed his eyes, completely and utterly happy, revelling in the feel of Starbuck in him and against him.  Then the Lieutenant sighed softly, and let himself slide free.  He pulled on Apollo’s shoulder until he rolled over, and they kissed a lot again, slowly now though, with less heat and urgency, long deep satisfied kisses.

“Love you,” Apollo said at last.  

“You, too.”

“I know,” Apollo said, and he did.  “Why didn’t I realize that before?”

Starbuck laughed and let his hand trail down the line of Apollo’s face.  “You do know what Holi’s about, don’t you?”

“More than getting pelted with dye to amuse your children?”

“It's to make children.  It’s a fertility rite, Apollo.  It’s about Spring and rebirth after Winter, and about seed and fecundity, both plant and human.  We’re celebrating being alive.”  He smiled at Apollo tenderly.  “Although I hope to God that there’s nothing at all fertile about what we just did.”

“Not in the ordinary sense,” Apollo said seriously, but he hoped to God it was fertile in every other.  There was a lot of significance, he realized now, in picking Starbuck to play at Boxey’s other parent.

“I don’t know though.”  Starbuck smiled as his fingers reached Apollo’s lips and his lover began kissing them, tasting himself on them.  “If it had been fertile, I suppose the Commander would have demanded that I made an honest man out of you.  I could handle that.  I could get to like that.”

Apollo glanced through the open shower cubicle door and the water that was still cascading from the shower head.  “If he doesn’t, the Quarter Master will.  The only way I escape keelhauling is to increase my water ration.  The only way I can increase the ration is to have someone else move in here.  Save me from a terrible fate, Starbuck.”

Starbuck kissed him.  “We’ll get keelhauled together.”

“I’d rather you moved in and fucked me senseless like that about six times a day.”

Starbuck nodded, eyes gleaming, hands moving in gentle circles on Apollo's back and shoulders. “I will.” He kissed Apollo again. “Happy Holi, Apollo. Happy Holi.”