Puppy Love
Author: repr0b8
Characters: Hot Dog/cylon!Crush, Sharon, Helo
Word Count: 3,700ish
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff
Spoilers: Through 3.06 to be safe
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Hot Dog can't keep his eyes off the newest Raptor pilot.
A/N: Unbeta'd, inspired by Hot Dog's obvious crush on Athena through the first few eps of Season 3.

Puppy Love

"Once the ships from the surface have jumped to the rendezvous point, all Vipers will be cleared for combat landings." The XO turned away from the ready-room display and looked back at the assembled pilots. "It's absolutely essential that you get back to Galactica as quickly as possible, we can't wait for stragglers. This operation is all about speed, people. Got it? Any questions?"

Hot Dog twirled his pen absentmindedly. It was the third time he'd been briefed on the operation in as many days, and his eyes wandered as they had all morning to the 'new' pilot sitting alone in the front row.

"Are we even sure we can launch Vipers under atmospheric pressure?" someone to his left asked.

Captain Agathon nodded once and began to answer, but a pair of whispering voices behind Hot Dog took his attention away from the XO.

"Yeah, I've got a question," the first voice whispered. "Since this entire plan is dependant on our Cylon buddy, should I kiss my ass goodbye now, or wait till we actually jump?"

"It's Boomer, man," the second voice whispered back.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" the first asked doubtfully. "Besides, it's not Boomer."

"Yeah it is," the second replied. "I've heard she remembers everything. And I mean absolutely everything."

"No, it's not Boomer," a third whispering voice intruded. It took all of Hot Dog's will to not turn around and see who was speaking. "The XO told me once. It's like, she has all of Boomer's memories, but she's a completely different person."

"How can you have all of someone's memories and still be a completely different person?" the second asked. "That's just stupid."

Hot Dog's eyes had not moved off of the subject in question throughout the hushed conversation. She sat in the same front row spot she had always occupied before, leaving him with the eerily familiar view of her black ponytail. The rest of the pilots had given her a wide berth, with nobody occupying any of the seats around her.

When another pilot asked a question, she turned slightly to see the speaker, revealing her profile to him. In the nearly two years she had been aboard the ship, this was the first time he'd seen her this close, and he found himself unable to look away. Part of it was fear, part of it was disbelief, and another part was something else entirely. Whatever the reasons, she was the most captivating thing he'd ever seen.

He watched her as she listened attentively to the other pilots, letting his mind wander as he stared. Then without warning she turned again, and looked straight at him, as if she had felt his eyes on her.

His heart skipped a beat, and his pilot's reflexes kicked in, shifting his eyes back to the XO. Nothing wrong with staring; but staring and getting caught was a different story. As curious as he was about her, he wasn't sure that he wanted any attention whatsoever coming the other direction.

He sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, until he saw her turn away from the corner of his eye. Slowly, he exhaled the breath she had so abruptly interrupted.

"…and that's why it's absolutely critical," the XO finished. Captain Agathon nodded once at the pilot. "Good question, Redwing. I hope everyone remembers that."

Hot Dog glanced around at the pilots nearby as they all nodded their heads in solemn agreement.

"Have you talked to her?" the first voice whispered, restarting the conversation. "You seem pretty convinced."

"It's Boomer, man," the second repeated. "Boomer was cool. Well, you know, cool until-"

"Cool until she put a couple rounds in the admiral," the first voice finished.

"The admiral trusts her," the third cut in. "That's good enough for me."

"She's a frakkin Cylon!" the first exclaimed, barely able to keep his voice a whisper.

As Hot Dog listened to the conversation, his again came to rest on her. She was taking notes on small notepad now, pausing occasionally to review what she had written. A strand of hair fell down across her face as she wrote, and she gently pushed it back behind her ear, her hand lingering there as she studied her notes. The utterly feminine motion captured him completely.

The next twirl of his pen sent it flying out of his fingers, hitting the pilot front of him in the back of the head before dropping to the floor.

"Sorry," he whispered meekly, lifting his hand in apology as the man turned to glare at him. The perturbed pilot shook his head and looked back to the front of the room. Retrieving his pen from the floor, he placed it back on the desk.

"Now don't forget," Captain Agathon continued, pacing at the front of the room. "This is not about kills. Don't let yourself get distracted by…"

He looked back at her, and it wasn't hard to see what the XO saw. The physical factor was a no- brainer, even if the rest of it made his brain hurt. He cringed a bit as he realized that he'd actually spent enough time thinking about her to make his brain hurt.

Scratching his forehead, he looked down at his own empty notepad and doodled the map of the shipyard his squad was assigned to attack.

He knew from listening to the other pilots that something was seriously wrong though. Because there were really only two acceptable feelings concerning her; disgust or ambivalence. And right now, neither of those two were close to being in his top five. They both finished somewhere behind curiosity, fear, and a bunch of others he was sure the XO wouldn't appreciate.

She was sitting back now, her arms crossed across her chest. Her eyes followed her husband as he moved across the room to point out something on one of the displays. From this angle he could again see her clearly, and for a moment she didn't look anything at all like the Boomer he knew. He focused tightly on her to try and see it again.

And as he did so, she looked over her shoulder and once again stared straight at him.

"Constanza!" the XO yelled.

Startled by the confluence of events, Hot Dog's mind struggled to react. His eyes darted between the XO and the Cylon, who regarded him warily.

"Yes, sir?" he replied as he gathered his wits. It was obvious by the XO's tone that his name had been called more than once.

"Have you and your squad worked out navigation and orientation for the assault?"

"Uh, yes sir," Hot Dog answered, straightening up in his chair, grateful the question was what it was. He cleared his throat and continued. "We've got nav points established for a variety of possible jump results. If we can launch to the north of the city, that's going to be optimal, but we'll be prepared regardless of the launch location."

Captain Agathon nodded his approval and moved on to another subject. In his peripheral vision Hot Dog could see the Cylon still facing him, and he risked a glance back. When he did, her dark eyes challenged him coldly.

He quickly looked back at the XO, and though his mind continued to wander for the rest of the briefing, his eyes did not.

-----

Unsnapping the buttons on his flight suit, Hot Dog shrugged his arms out of the jacket, leaving it hanging around his waist. He opened his locker and tossed his flight bag inside as the rest of his bunkmates filed in.

"Is it just me, or was that our best run yet?" Skull asked, enthusiastically.

"That's not saying much," Racetrack replied as she pulled a binder from her locker, and slammed it shut.

"Try to contain your optimism, Racetrack." Hot Dog smiled, reaching for his comb. "You might accidentally encourage someone."

The Raptor pilot walked slowly over, and he waited patiently for her scathing comeback. But before she could deliver it, the XO stepped into the room.

"Maggie," he said with a relieved smile, "So glad I found you."

"What's up?" she replied, turning away from Hot Dog as the captain walked up to them.

"Can you help Sharon with her flight prep? I need to be in CIC, and she's down there by herself." The XO had lowered his voice, intending for only Racetrack to hear, but Hot Dog was too close to be left out of the conversation. "It's been a few years since she's done this, you know? An extra pair of hands and some company could go a long way. Can you help?"

The question sounded wrong to Hot Dog. It wasn't an order from a superior officer; it was a request from a friend. The XO could order anybody to go do it, but he'd come looking for Racetrack.

"I would if I could, Karl," Racetrack replied, shaking her head. "But I've got timing problems with two drones and less than ten hours to fix them. I was just on my way out."

"Frak," the captain muttered, biting his lip as he considered his options.

"Karl, it's the flight deck," Racetrack pointed out. "Nobody is going to give her a hard time down there."

The XO's expression didn't change. "Yeah, I know. But-"

"I'll help," Hot Dog offered, as the logical half of his brain complained once again about being left out of the decision making process.

Captain Agathon stared in surprise at him for a few moments, as if the words had not completely registered. But when they did, his expression changed from shock to caution. The XO cast a judging eye over younger man, weighing every factor carefully before replying. It seemed that despite the lack of volunteers, the act of offering alone was not enough to qualify oneself for this duty.

And whether the captain judged him worthy or harmless, he couldn't tell. But a small, slow nod made it clear he had passed whatever tests were necessary.

"Yeah?" the captain asked, a small smile cracking through.

"Sure," Hot Dog answered with a shrug. His eyes moved back to Racetrack, who seemed equally surprised at the offer. "I've got nowhere to be."

The captain's smile widened a bit as he nodded approvingly. "Okay then," he said, slapping Hot Dog on the shoulder. "I owe you one Constanza. Just tell Sharon I'll be down there as soon as I can, okay?"

Hot Dog nodded back. "No problem, Captain."

As the XO turned and stepped out of the room, Racetrack looked back at Hot Dog, studying him for a few seconds before her familiar wry smile appeared.

"What?" he asked defensively.

She shook her head and turned away, still smiling.

"What?" he asked again, watching her follow the XO out the door.

-----

Standing at the entrance to the flight deck, he scanned the busy room for her. Everywhere he looked people were hauling equipment, loading ammo, taking birds apart and putting birds back together. A deck-hand pulling a rack of ship-to-ship missiles walked past him, blocking his view of the chaos for a moment, before moving past and revealing the subject of his search.

She walked slowly around from behind the Raptor, clipboard in one hand, the other reaching up to carefully inspect some unseen detail of the engine. The rest of the pilots and crewmembers kept their distance, leaving the Cylon alone with her ship, isolated from the rest of the activity that surrounded her.

Looking across the deck at her, he considered turning around and returning to his bunk. But he doubted that he would make it all the way back before returning. Curiosity and more had driven him here, leaving before he faced her would only make things worse.

With a deep breath, he headed across the deck. He glanced around as he made his way, taking note of anyone who might notice him approaching her. If anyone asked he could always claim the XO had ordered him down here, but he'd rather just not have to answer the question at all. It seemed, however, that everyone way to engrossed in their own activities to bother paying attention.

He slowed down as he approached, not quite sure what he was supposed to do next. Her back was turned to him as she continued to examine the Raptor, unaware of his presence, leaving him free to debate with himself how to get her attention. Standing there thinking, his eyes took the opportunity to appreciate the tight fit of her flight suit. But the appreciation stopped abruptly when his wandering eyes landed on the side arm strapped to her thigh.

"Uh," he started. "Hey Booms."

She stopped her examination of the Raptor and peered over her shoulder at him. There was nothing in her expression that gave any hint of recognition, her eyes looking him up and down cautiously. Turning away from the ship, she faced him squarely.

"Hey," she replied without emotion.

"Hey," he mimicked, unable to formulate anything more constructive under the circumstances.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him to continue. The motion sent one hand moving ever so slightly towards the weapon at her side, and for a moment he was convinced she was going to kill him right there on the deck.

"Can I help you?" she asked, politely, apparently tired of waiting for him, and also, apparently, having no intention of shooting him.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, gathering his wits as he realized how foolish the thought had been. If anything, she showed a clear and decisive lack of interest in him; he was definitely not worth killing. He pointed at the Raptor behind her. "Captain Agathon asked me to help out with your flight prep."

The mention of her husband seemed to earn him a few points. "Okay," she said, her expression relaxing a bit. She looked around the deck and pointed to a stack of supply crates beside the ship. "Can you stow these for me?"

"Yeah, sure." She turned away before he had even finished answering, leaving him standing there as she returned to her examination of the ship. "No problem."

He looked over at the crates as she wandered back around the ship. Clearly the anticipation he'd felt leading up to the encounter was not shared.

Lifting the first crate off the deck, he stepped onto wing of the Raptor and through the hatch. His muscles strained as he pushed the supplies into the storage area beneath the console, but he was somewhat grateful for the task she had given him. Truth was, he didn't know the first thing about flight prep for a Raptor; a fact that would have been painfully obvious if she'd asked him to participate in anything more complicated.

Stepping out of the Raptor he glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he reached for another crate. She seemed oblivious to his presence as she ran a hand along the engine vents searching for flaws. He leaned over to pick up another crate, pausing before lifting it from the deck.

He couldn't tell them apart, the old Boomer from this one, but something in his mind told him they were not the same. There was an edge to this woman that the other had lacked. The old Boomer had been friendly and helpful, even to a nugget like him. But she'd also seemed lost at times, out of focus.

He doubted the woman in front of him ever lost focus on anything.

"Boomer?" he asked.

The question stopped her. She turned to face him, her expression shifting as she thought about her answer. With a slow shake of her head, she answered his single word with her own.

"No."

She didn't turn back to her work immediately, letting the clipboard drop to her side as she waited for his reaction; the question and answer were clearly important to her. The slight change in demeanor fascinated him, that a question so simple could be so significant to this woman.

As her attention stayed fixed on him, he felt his apprehension being replaced by the curiosity that had brought him here.

"So," he started, standing straight and leaving the crate on the deck. "You don't remember me?"

"I've never seen you before today," she answered, evenly. Still watching him, she arched an eyebrow. "Though I doubt I got quite as good a look as you did earlier."

His cheeks went flush at the reminder. Embarrassed was the last thing he was expecting to feel when he came down here. "Yeah," he replied sheepishly, looking down at the deck and scratching his head before looking back.

And for the first time since he'd seen her, she smiled. Grabbing the side of the hatch she pulled herself onto the wing and stepped inside, still grinning. It stunned him how different she looked when she did it, the expression changing everything about her. He stared after her as she disappeared from view, unable to look away as his mind processed this new revelation. And as he stared at the empty hatchway, he found he no longer wondered what the XO saw in her; he wanted to know what she saw in the XO.

Her hand came back and grabbed the side of the hatch, slowly pulling herself back into view. She looked at him closely now, studying him as she stepped out onto the wing. The smile was gone now, a look of growing concern replacing it. She took another step closer, still watching him carefully.

"Were there…" She stopped herself and looked him up and down once more. Her brow furrowed as she continued. "Were there things worth remembering?" she asked worriedly.

It took him a moment to understand the question, but when he did, he raised his hands in innocence.

"No, no, no…" he said quickly, immediately regretting the haste of his reaction; it wasn't that unbelievable. No, they hadn't been close, but they hadn't been strangers either. There were plenty of things worth remembering, and one he would never forget. "Well yeah, actually," he corrected himself. "You pulled me from the big empty the day I got my wings."

His answer had removed the look of concern from her face, but now she looked at him in confusion. "How did getting shot down earn you your wings?" she asked.

"I took on eight Raiders," he answered with a small shrug.

"Eight?" she repeated in surprise. "You must be one hell of a pilot."

He contemplated leaving it at that, but the story was too well known for her to not eventually get the whole of it. "Well, Starbuck was there too," he added nonchalantly.

The smile returned. "I see," she answered with a small laugh. Telling the truth had been worth the reaction. Taking the clue, he finished the story.

"I guess it's not all bad that you don't remember, though." He leaned over and lifted one of the supply crates into his arms, then looked back at her. "I lost my lunch all over the floor of your Raptor when you pulled me in."

Her smile grew as she nodded her head. "Sounds like a fun day," she said. "I wish I'd been there."

He found himself smiling back, and realized it must have been the first time she'd seen the expression on his face.

"I'm Hot Dog, by the way."

She watched him a moment, then stepped off the wing and offered her hand. "I'm Sharon."

-----

"So let me see if I understand this," he continued, shifting his weight in the co-pilot's chair. Looking through the glass bubble cockpit of the Raptor, he watched the crew continue to prepare for the operation.

"I told you it was complex," she said, glancing up from the pilot's seat to take a reading from one of the instruments above her, then looking back down to record it on her clipboard.

"You have all of her memories up until the attack…" He paused as he thought about how to phrase the question. "But you're not sure if they're all real?"

"They're real to me," she replied, looking up again to read another gauge.

"No, I get that," he said, shaking his head and removing his foot from the console it had been propped up on. "But what I don't get, Boomer, is-"

"Sharon," she corrected gently, looking away from the instruments and at him. "It's just Sharon."

The interruption derailed his train of thought, leaving him to ponder a new question. "So…you…you don't have a call sign?"

She thought about it for a second. "I guess not."

"Well you can't just go by Sharon," he insisted. "Every pilot has a call sign."

Another smile appeared on her lips as she resumed her check of the instruments. "If I have to choose between Sharon, and a processed meat product, I'll stick with Sharon."

"Very funny," he said, rolling his eyes. "But your call sign can't be Sharon. That would be like my call sign being 'Brendan'."

She stopped and looked at him in mock disbelief. "You picked Hot Dog over Brendan?"

Letting out a deep sigh, he shook his head. "Someone else picked it for me."

She nodded once. "Remind me not to let that happen."

Before he could reply, something outside the Raptor caught her attention. He followed her eyes through the glass to the deck below, where Captain Agathon stood smiling. Without a moment's pause she was up and out of her chair, heading out the back of the ship, leaving him alone in the cockpit.

He stood up and worked the muscles in his neck, though they were in no need of stretching. Looking at the ceiling of the cabin, he flipped a few switches harmlessly on and off, before letting his hands drop to his side. He didn't really want to leave, but now there wasn't much point in staying.

Stepping out of the hatch, he turned to see her and the XO in a loose embrace. The two looked at each other knowingly, a nervous energy muted by a calm confidence.

"Are you ready?" the XO asked quietly.

"I think so," she answered.

The XO nodded. "The Admiral wants to talk to you."

"Okay."

Without looking back, the Cylon started across the hangar, her husband at her side. It suddenly occurred to Hot Dog that this first meeting could be their last.

"Be careful, Sharon," he called after her.

She stopped to look back at him with a small smile. "Good hunting, Brendan."