The Seamy Underbelly of Colonial High
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Warning: High School AU
Pairing: Helo/Boomer, Six/Baltar, Laura/Adamas UST
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, even in cracked-out AU form.
Summary: It’s a high school AU; there doesn’t need to be plot. There’s track, detention, and Six the Heather. I am just sayin, you need nothing more.
“Dude, she’s your mom,” Karl said, watching Lee watch the principal as she looked at the graffiti someone had very inexpertly sprayed all over the lockers of Colonial High. “Wanting to do her makes you a total perv.”
“She’s not my mom,” Lee protested.
“I thought she was dating your dad, you know, the ‘Commander,'” Karl said, giving the principal the once-over. Karl had been going steady with Sharon ‘Boomer’ Valerii for a few weeks now, but it didn’t mean, he’d said more than once, that he didn’t have eyes. “I bet she likes it when he…”
“SHUT UP, HELO!” Lee snapped, using Karl’s Viper name, even though it broke all the rules of the Vipers to use secret names in front of grown-ups. “Damn, you’re being a jerk.”
They were never sure if it was Lee yelling a Viper name or if it was the swearing that brought Principal Roslin over in her exceedingly hot blue suit and her glasses and Lee was seriously going to faint and then Kara was going to make fun of him at track practice today and that was going to make Coach Tigh go off and shit. Life was not fair for guys like Lee Adama.
“Boys, do you know anything about this?” she asked reasonably, pointing at the graffiti. “There’s been a three hundred percent increase in gang-related incidents at my school in the past six months. I don’t need to tell you that’s unacceptable.”
Karl snorted and elbowed Lee in the ribs, a clear sign of dude, stop staring at your mom’s boobs. Lee choked, and then nodded at Principal Roslin’s face.
“I think it’s the Toasters, ma’am,” Lee said, earning another look from Karl. Just because he was dating a damn Toaster didn’t mean he had to be loyal to a rival gang. Sharon always said she wasn’t like the other Toasters, it was Cylon unity that made her join, but Lee remembered what she’d done to the Commander after the Spring Fling…well, it made his blood boil.
“The Toasters, huh?” Principal Roslin asked. “If half of the things ascribed to the Toasters were actually done by the Toasters, they would be the most nefarious gang to ever walk the halls of Colonial High. Or the world, for that matter.”
Lee blushed. “Well, I’m not sure who did it,” he said. “I just thought maybe…like, I could help?”
If Karl didn’t stop snorting and smirking at Lee, Lee was going to kick his ass, swear to gods. Especially with Principal Roslin looking at him and taking off her glasses to give him this LOOK.
“Are you trying to bull me, Lee Adama?” Principal Roslin asked, folding her arms. This wasn’t so much like his masturbation fantasies, where when she took off her glasses, she told him that she really liked his Arctic Dog Sunday poster and that she wanted to make out with him and not his dad.
“No, ma’am!” Lee said.
“He’s just trying to like,” and Karl howled with pain as Lee stepped on his foot. Principal Roslin looked from boy to boy with amusement and then smiled, which made her, in Lee’s opinion, five times hotter. “Dude, you’re a frakking dillhole!”
“Gentlemen, I wasn’t aware you were allowed to swear at my school,” Principal Roslin said primly. Except her eyes were still laughing. “The Commander would be very disappointed in you, Lee.”
It must be admitted that Lee, despite relishing the idea of having a detention with Principal Roslin, panicked at the idea of the Commander getting involved, and thus was less smooth than he could have been in his response.
“But I didn’t swear!” Lee said heatedly. “Karl swore, not me! I was just an innocent bystander trying to find out who tagged the lockers, ma’am.”
Of course, looking at the lockers, Lee thought it was probably actually Kat, because she and Kara had this whole thing going where they were daring each other who was the baddest ass at Colonial High and the design looked kind of like Kat’s work. But Lee wouldn’t rat out a Viper. Even a junior Viper like Kat who got on Kara’s last nerve.
Secretly, Lee kind of liked Kat getting on Kara’s last nerve.
“Mr. Agathon, I think Mr. Adama’s right,” the principal said, putting her glasses back on. “So why don’t you come with me, and we’ll set up your detention. Mr. Adama, I think you should get to track practice before I hear it from Coach Tigh, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lee said, wishing again he’d been the one who had cussed in front of the principal. Especially when Karl stuck out his tongue and waggled it Roslin-ward as Lee walked away.
He was SO going to kick Helo’s ass at forties later, even if it did make Coach Tigh happy and surprised the Vipers.
“Are you smoking CIGARS again?” Coach Tigh demanded, getting right up in Kara’s face. Kara almost smacked him, but she knew that now was not the time. Last time she’d gotten suspended for two days, and if it hadn’t been for the attack, she might have been kicked off the track team. “Do you know what that does to your lung capacity?”
“Is it worse than what the ambrosia does to your breath, sir?” Kara asked, turning her face away from the foul reek. She had no idea how Tigh got to coach track and teach while either drunk or hung over. Especially with Principal Roslin’s reputation as a take-no-shit administrator. “I need the stogies to dull my sense of smell.”
The other kids, particularly Kara’s fellow Vipers, laughed. Tigh was not amused, and gave the nuggets — the freshmen and sophomores who were all fighting to be state champions like Kara — a glare.
“Shut up, you,” he growled. “Thrace, give me twenty push-ups and then you’ve got four laps. Adama, what in the hell are you doing, strolling up late like this? Where’s Agathon?”
“Sorry, sir,” Lee said, not sounding sorry at all. “Agathon’s got detention for swearing in front of the principal. She was asking us a few questions.”
Someone — probably that moron Hot Dog — hooted; everyone knew that Principal Roslin spent a lot of time at Lee’s house with the Commander and that Lee was spending a lot of time watching her. Tigh glared and the hoot ceased.
“What the hell did you get in that woman’s face for? You know Agathon’s our best hurdler. Join Thrace in the push-ups and then get ready to spend some time sprinting, Adama,” Tigh said. “The rest of you, what the hell are you staring at? Get the frak up and start warming up. Eight laps for the boys, twelve for the girls and don’t give me any shit or I’ll double it.”
Lee shucked his tracksuit and dropped to his belly next to Kara, giving her a grin.
“What the hell’s your damage?” she asked quietly as Lee started doing push-ups gracefully. “Helo’s got enough problems with Boomer. He doesn’t need the principal and Tigh on his ass.”
“He cussed in front of her, not me, the lucky bastard,” Lee said. “What did you do?”
“Said he smelled like booze,” Kara said, tilting her head up at Tigh. “Which isn’t a lie.”
“Less talking, more push-ups, you two,” Tigh barked.
“Yes, sir, Coach Tigh, SIR!” Kara said, pumping out ten push-ups in approximately thirty seconds and then collapsing. “It’s a great honor to be on your track team, SIR, the state champion Colonials, sir!”
“Get up and do your frakkin’ laps. I wanna see you do all sixteen in half an hour, or so help me…” and Tigh’s attention turned to Kat, who was doing her quarters at hotshot times, as far as Kara saw it. “Katraine, pace your gods damn self!”
That was it. Little soph like Kat thought she was going to outdo the state miler of the decade, she had another thing coming. Kara got to her feet, leaving Lee to do slow, protest-style push-ups, and took to the track without a word, joining the pack about ten yards behind Kat.
About twenty seconds later, they were racing each other, leaving the rest of the team in the dust as they ran.
“Pacing! You’re going to bust a blood vessel!” Tigh yelled ineffectually. Kara didn’t care; her heart was pumping and she could feel the dirt underneath her, pushing her further as she raced against Kat.
Only a runner — only a miler — could understand this kind of thing; it was why despite the fact that Kat pissed her shit off, Kara was more comfortable with her than with girls she’d known forever, like Jane Cally or Annie Dualla, or old friends like Sharon. Kat was a hotshot with a big mouth, but she knew the mile. Knew how to tilt her body, pull in her elbows, and just run.
They were running hard, too, because Kara could feel her stomach hurt, each breath burning against her upper chest as they finished their third lap, and then their fourth.
“He said twelve, right?” Kara asked, gasping.
“Sixteen for you,” Kat panted.
“What…you chicken?” Kara dared.
“Frak you, bitch,” Kat answered, and then there was no time for talking, nor air, nor desire. They kept running, and everything burned.
The boys dropped after eight, as did one or two of the jv girls. A few more dropped at ten, and with a loud, thankful groan, the rest of the team fell onto the grass with dramatic limb-flopping at twelve laps.
Kat didn’t stop. Neither did Kara, the two of them matching each other stride-for-stride, despite Kat’s shorter legs and Kara’s aching lungs. The cigars WERE frakking with her breathing, much as she wasn’t giving them up.
When they finished their sixteenth lap, Kara half-a-stride ahead of Kat, Tigh was staring at both of them with half-anger and half-awe, which probably wasn’t helped by Kat’s gasping thud to her knees on the track followed by her sophomore ass puking weakly.
“What the frak was THAT stunt, Thrace?” Tigh asked.
“You told me to give you sixteen. I did,” Kara said. “You told me to train up Katraine here. I am. If anyone’s at fault here, sir, it’s you.”
“Go down to the nurse and clean her the hell up,” Tigh snarled. “And don’t tell me you weren’t feeling the cigars. I saw you falter around lap eleven, kid.”
“Well, you had to be right sometime, sir,” Kara said. “I’m glad today was the day.”
Before he could say anything, Kara was hustling over to the groaning Kat, who stank of puke, sweat, and dirt.
“You’re a frakking cunt,” Kat said weakly.
“Yeah, we’re gonna go get the nurse to give you something for your tummy, Kitty,” Kara replied. “Nice job keeping up, even if you did puke.”
“My mama didn’t raise a quitter,” Kat said, limping against Kara. “One day, I’m gonna be better than you.”
“You keep dreaming, little nugget,” Kara said. “But just keep in mind, if you puke on my shoes while you’re getting better, I’m making you buy me new ones and wear my old ones for a month.”
Karl saw Kara and Kat limp past him toward the nurse’s office while he wrote another sentence. Principal Roslin had given him pretty light detention — twenty-five sentences to write out or forty-five minutes, whichever took longer. He was going to make both punishments end together, just cuz.
It really did piss him off that Lee blamed the Toasters for the tagging, too. Sharon had told him they hadn’t been out to tag, and Lee just liked blaming Toasters because of what Sharon had done to the Commander for her initiation. Also, Lee was jealous because he would have totally rather had a detention with his hot stepmom Roslin than do a billion laps with Tigh.
“Mr. Agathon, try to pretend you’re writing your punishment,” Roslin said, looking up from her book idly.
“Sorry,” Karl said. “Just saw a couple of teammates and got distracted.”
“That’s fine, just let’s keep working,” Roslin said. She looked kind of bored, and Karl kind of wondered if she hadn’t wanted to keep Lee after instead of him. After all, even though Karl had been the one who’d cussed, she’d originally tried to keep them BOTH for detention until Lee’d whined like a dumbass.
“Hey, did you WANT to make Lee come to detention, Ms. Roslin?” Karl asked, writing out another line. Colonial High requires appropriate language from its students. This means that profanity and cursing are unacceptable on campus, at campus events, and in the presence of Colonial High students and faculty.
“I don’t want anyone to do detention, Karl,” Roslin said.
“I bet you see enough of him anyway, cuz you’re dating the Commander and stuff,” Karl said. “He’s got a total crush on you, dude.”
“Mr. Agathon, this isn’t a gossip session,” Ms. Roslin said. She actually was kind of hot, in a mom way, with the nice legs. She wasn’t cute like Sharon was — but nobody was.
Karl was going to marry Sharon, maybe before the baby was born if he could afford it, because she was the prettiest, smartest girl in the world, and they were in love. Of course, he hadn’t told anyone Sharon was pregnant and they were in love and all, but he figured that wouldn’t go over too well at good ol’ Colonial High. Especially not a Toaster and a Viper, no sir.
“All right, Mr. Agathon, it’s been forty-five minutes,” Ms. Roslin said. “Give me your paper and go home, or to practice, or wherever you’re planning on going, and for gods’ sake, don’t curse in front of the principal, even if Lee steps on your foot that hard.”
Karl gave Principal Roslin the paper, still pretty sure that she was maybe not entirely immune to Lee’s manly charms — even if that was totally sick — and jogged off.
Sharon was waiting for him at the bus stop, like she always was, and she didn’t even look mad that he was late. After all, practice went twice this long, and so he was actually kind of early.
“Hey,” Sharon said. “Kara told me the principal gave you detention for swearing at her.”
“Yeah,” Karl said. “I think she was trying to get some time alone with Lee, but he eluded her, so I got forty-five minutes of writing out lines about not swearing. So how are you?”
“I’m good,” Sharon said. “You just saw me in seventh period.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t be less good from between seventh period and now,” Karl said, pulling out two sticks of gum and handing one to Sharon. “I mean, with the b-a-b-y and stuff.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sharon said. “Hey, Kat puked all over the field because Tigh made Kara run four miles straight as a punishment and Kara dared Kat to run with her and they did four miles in like, sixteen minutes.”
“Kat’s only a sophomore,” Karl said, wide-eyed. “Kara shouldn’t make her run that hard, they’ll both get sick. And shin splints.”
Sharon giggled and put her arm around Karl’s waist. “I love you,” she said. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”
“I hope so,” Karl said. “It’s kind of freaking me out, Sharon.”
“I know,” Sharon said. “It’s kind of freaking me out, too, but this is our destiny.”
“Which is really, really cool,” Karl said, except that he saw Sharon’s gang friends, D’Anna and Aaron and that mega-bitch, Shelley. One of the Shelleys — there were definitely more than one of her, and she was the only Toaster to be a cheerleader. Some people said she was totally doing it with Vice-Principal Baltar, too.
Karl didn’t like her, and he knew that Sharon didn’t really like her, but Shelley ran the gang, and Sharon had to do what she said.
“I have to, like, go,” Sharon said, kissing Karl on the cheek. “Call you later, k?”
“Okay, but be safe, k?” Karl asked as Sharon pulled away and skipped up to the Toasters. “Stupid frakking Toasters.”
He was going to SO many levels of hell, but Gaius Baltar had to admit he’d go over and over again for the chance to have the exquisite pleasure of educating a girl like Shelley (or even Shelley’s triplet, the mysterious and oddly alluring Gina) in worldly matters.
There were scarcely ten years between them anyhow — he was the young Vice-Principal of Colonial High, a pr ploy by La Roslin in her never-ending pursuit of “excellence.” In a year, perhaps two, not a soul alive would look twice at a liaison between himself and Shelley.
And why should he think of Roslin’s displeasure, anyhow? The woman owed him; she’d personally begged him to join the faculty at Colonial High, a position hardly fitting to a man of his education and talents, but one went where one was needed…
“Mr. Baltar,” a familiar voice said. “Are you paying attention to me?”
“I’m always rapt in your presence, darling,” Baltar said, turning around and recoiling. Gods damn it, that wasn’t his Shelley. He remembered that she and her little fan club were having a little meeting or something.
Cain chuckled, sitting down in her favorite seat in the faculty lounge. Baltar sighed; he’d hoped to perhaps have a bit of private time to meditate on the unearthly grace and charm that was his Shelley, and the things he would do to her when next they met. But Cain was clearly not going anywhere, so Gaius forced a smile and went back to grading dreadful student quizzes that showed their illiteracy in scientific principles of the most basic sort.
“Helena, have you seen Laura?” a gruff male voice asked. Lovely; it was the Commander. “She and I were supposed to meet up at her office but the secretary said she was out surveying the graffiti damage.”
“Oh, she was giving a kid detention for cussing at her,” Cain said. “She’s in 209. Nice seeing you, Commander.”
“Nice seeing you, Helena,” the Commander said, disappearing as quickly as he’d arrived, much to Baltar’s relief. Somehow, the man’s presence made it hard to think of anything except work, and Baltar wanted to think of how much more fun grading science tests would be if dear Shelley were sitting in his lap.
“You’re kind of a perv-o,” Shelley said, rubbing her hand against his stubble. “You just like it when my butt rubs against your cock, don’t you?”
Gaius looked up. Sure enough, it was indeed Shelley sitting in his lap, wearing her cheerleading uniform. But for some reason, Helena Cain seemed not to notice, and that was rather perturbing.
“I’m not really here, but wouldn’t it be fun if I was?” Shelley asked, tapping his mouth. “You’re so hot, Mr. Baltar. It turns me on that you’re a perv-o. Want me to take off my top?”
“Gods, yes,” Baltar muttered.
“What?” Cain asked.
“Nothing,” Baltar said. “Just talking to myself. A student who gets the point of testing is rather a miracle, aren’t they?”
“If you say so,” Cain said. “I say it’s a matter of firm teacher discipline.”
“Miss Cain likes spankings,” Shelley said, sucking on her forefinger and giving Cain a look. “But the question is, does she think it’s better to give or receive?”
He was going quite mad. The little minx was going to drive him out of his mind, with her golden hair and her leering looks, and he would enjoy every last moment of it, he would, if only Miss Cain would go away and let him talk to Shelley and her small but effective breasts, which clearly wanted to brush against his face and mouth.
“I think it’s a very good question,” Baltar murmured, tapping a test paper with his red pen. “Very, very good indeed.”
“You’re a bad, bad man, Mr. Baltar,” Shelley said. “You ought to be grading tests, but instead you want me to bend over this table and mmm…”
She drew her wet fingertip over her collarbone and Gaius’s eyes almost popped from his head, tests forgotten.
“Are you okay, Gaius?” Cain asked. “You look like you’re kind of out of it.”
“I’m fine, I just need to visit the little boys’ room,” Baltar said, standing up and hustling to the restroom before Cain could notice his erection. That wasn’t the reputation he needed at Colonial High, not with a possible promotion to principal always possible.
“I like that idea, Principal Baltar,” Shelley said, lounging against the bathroom wall. “Nobody would be able to stop you if you were in charge here. Nobody would want to. And men with power turn me on so much.”
She slowly, slowly sank to her knees before making a sound like a lollipop being slurped…
..and for that thought alone, Gaius Baltar was going to hell.
But he was going to vastly enjoy the trip.