lyssie | er, bsg ficlet, Six/Anders

"I don't love you," she says.

"Ditto," is his response as he moves.

And they're both right. But when the sex is this good, when it feels like they're dying a hundred thousand times (and she can die, but he can't, and she has to remember that), she wonders if they're lying.

She used to watch him at pyramid games, used to sit in the stands and feel the energy of the crowd wash over her (bullshit), and watch him as he moved, as he commanded his team and worked them through the game. They weren't flashy, but they were good. Sometimes, she'd catch her hand on her inner thigh, stroking absently through the fabric of her jeans.

Now she watches him when he's on the streets--if they can be called streets. New Caprica isn't particularly full of buildings.

Gaius doesn't know, Gaius never seems to know a frakking thing these days.

She's never promised to find his wife for him--not that she'd be allowed to interrupt Leoben and his toy. And he's never asked. But she has done something far better. She protects him. When Three asks about the resistance, when Doral pushes her about the man she and Sharon let go, she lies. She says he must be dead on Caprica.

Cavil always gives her a cynical look and says nothing. He's got his own agenda, where the resistance are concerned, and she's not going to interrupt him.

And Sharon never asks--not after the first week, when one of the crudely-made bombs sent her to a new body, and the whispers and thrown objects proved that her ideas of co-existence were a lie.

Definitely not love that makes her seek him out, that makes him kiss her (he doesn't have to bend as far), that makes them find each other in blind corners and dusty, empty tents. Her fingers leave marks on his skin and his stubble leaves marks on her thighs.

Not love.

But it's something real. And they both need reality.

er, bsg ficlet, Six/Anders

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