We made such a pretty pair

"Well you said that we made such a pretty pair
and that you would never leave
but you gave away the things you loved
and one of them was me."

Carly Simon, "You're so vain"

She'd been lying awake ever since she came back from her shift. But she doesn't acknowledge him coming back, just pretends to be asleep. He's trying to be quiet, but as always he's terrible noisy. At least to her sensitive ears, that is.

Then she hears the shower, and an unbidden thought crosses her mind. He's been with her. Again. She struggles to keep her face impassive. They think they are being so secretive, but the whole frakking ship knows they're "friends with benefits". Ever since the stupid fight they've been at it, she's sure. Jealousy that had been simmering ever since Starbuck came back, is growing hotter now every day. But as long as he's always coming back into her bed, she has no reason to freak out, she tells herself.

And every day she believes it a little less. Every day she wonders a little longer where he'll take her this time. Rumor has it it's a storage compartment on F-Deck. Others say it's one of the Raptors not in use, when it's quiet even on the flight deck. Figures., she thinks, the word laced with malice in her mind. They're pilots. What better place for a quick frak than one of their toys?

There's been another rumor going around, saying it's his father's office, whenever the Old Man is in CIC when they are on down-time. She particularly hates that one. Ever since starting her tour on the Galactica she'd liked the Old Man, and now he also is the only person close to a father she has left. Both Starbuck and Lee have hurt him so often now she just can't understand why the Old Man is still even talking to both of them. And just the thought of those two, frakking in his room… she almost jumps up to the small bathroom to retch. In truth the still running water is the only thing keeping her back now and forcing her to swallow the bile.

When the sound stops, she's nearly back to her composed self. She hears him padding out of the bathroom, feels the mattress sink in as he climbs into the small bed, feels him turn toward her back… but the arm that should have come now doesn't. Instead she feels him turning on his back again, and hears only so much as a very low sigh escaping his throat.

A whiff floats by her nose, and she thinks she's smelling… something. No, someone. Her. She nearly cringes. She'd been right, he'd been with Starbuck again. Suddenly the thought of him having the guts to dare and come back to her bed after frakking that bitch doesn't comfort her but makes her angry. She wants to turn around and kick his frakking ass out of this quarters and yell at him never to come back again.

And it occurs to her that if she ever wants this farce to end, it's exactly what she has to do. She knows he's not a quitter, that he would stay with her out of some strange and twisted and crazy obligation both to her and Starbuck that maybe only he understands. And a few weeks ago she wouldn't have minded, but now that she knows that she was used as a mean to punish Starbuck… Yes, she wants him out.

He groans faintly, and there's another emotion welling up in her: pity. Pity that he didn't have the balls to fight for Starbuck a year ago, and that he's probably suffering as much as she is. So much pity that she chooses not to kick him out tonight, and instead of yelling just mimics what would be recognized as a sleepy drawl and says: "Stop thinkin', baby an' go t'sleep." Tomorrow., she thinks. Tomorrow I'll show him the door and push him right into Starbuck's arms, and he can make some other woman unhappy. But tonight, she would pretend to be the loving, oblivious wife. Even when she's sure that his heart just isn't in it anymore when he finally circles her waist from behind.