* Battlestar Galactica 2004 - Gaeta/Baltar - against a wall - I've been so disillusioned Spoilers for SEASON FOUR.
Support battlestar galactica 2004 Mithrigil Galtirglin
“Felix, I—”
“Shut up.” Two frakking words and Felix is about to hit the asshole with a crutch. A crutch. “And stay the hell away from me.”
Gaius isn’t going to listen, he never does, and Felix can’t make it very far down the hall like this, and so he winds up hobbling smack into Gaius’ shoulder. Gaius talks out of his shoulders, out of his elbows, out of his whole frakking body including his ass and now’s no different than ever. “Felix.” He says it with his eyes too, half-dead fractal brown eyes. “You’re going to let me apologize, right?”
Felix snaps, tries to step back and forgets he just can’t. “For once, you didn’t do anything. Give yourself a break and give me some room to walk.”
Of course he doesn’t, he never does. His eyes flicker down toward the crutches, the absence, then up to the slump of Felix’s shoulders and Felix would trade the world for a free hand to wipe the emotion off Gaius’ face.
“Move,” Felix commands. Twice. A third time, the loudest, yet.
Gaius does, but Felix should have specified a direction. Coordinates. Gaius does move, and it’s to back Felix into the nearest wall, press his hands onto Felix’s chest right at the rank pips and the aching oblique. The crutches scrape and one of them falls, on the side he needs it most on, and when he holds himself up on Gaius’ shoulder it sends pain stabbing through wounds he doesn’t have.
“Well, I’m sorry anyway,” Gaius says.
With Felix unable to stand, it turns out that Gaius doesn’t have to stretch up any to kiss him. It’s sickeningly easier, somehow desperate—his hands tighten on Gaius’ shoulder and the grip of the crutch just like his teeth do on Gaius’ godsdamned lips. He falls back into it like there’s nothing to support him, because there isn’t. Gaius doesn’t, he never does.
They break for air, panting, needling spikes in Felix’s elbows from holding himself up. He gasps—Gaius hears it, watches him shudder, knows pain when he sees it, that’s something Gaius Baltar does do. Know pain.
“Come with me and lie down,” he says, and threads his hands through Felix’s hair. they’re harder than they were on New Caprica. Everything’s harder than it was on New Caprica.
Felix growls hoarsely, “Frak you.”
Wrong words—they make Gaius’ eyebrows flick up. “Can you?”
The ache’s everywhere now, everywhere in and around him, and Felix groans, sags lower on the wall. “Not unless you make it easy,” he admits. But that’s something Gaius never does.