hackthis_archive | BSG/KC - The Art of Eating Well During an Apocalypse

a) This almost makes me wish I were still writing SW RPS
b) For all your nerdy Supernatural needs:

chickchesters because sometimes you need your facts checked.

So, um, yeah. See, I had like an explanation for this, and everything, and it came back to Jamie Bamber wearing an apron because

antheia started it, and uh, yeah. Whatever.

Title and much of the what-passes-for-a-plot provided by

nifra_idril. Audienced and stuff by

lyra_sena and

serialkarma. I don't think you have to actually be familiar with either of these fandoms to smell the crack burning from several blocks away.

Kitchen Confidential/ Battlestar Galatica
Ensemble. Big ensemble.

The Art of Eating Well During an Apocalypse

It started with the end of the world and went downhill from there. Well, since there weren't really any hills anymore it didn't technically go downhill, it just, well, went. And that was why, at the end of the world, Steven, Jack, Seth, Jim and Teddy were stuck on an galactic ship out in the middle of no-fucking-where without a decent Cabernet or any drugs of any kind. Except for those Viagra that Steven had smuggled onboard in the one body cavity that no one wanted to think too hard about.

If they were objective about it, they would've realized that the Lords of Kobol had shined down on them with great munificence, but they were too busy freaking the fuck out to appreciate their good luck. As Jack said, more than once, at the very least the gods could've thrown in some Valium.

*

It had all started back in Caprica City -- commonly referred to for reasons unbeknownst to anyone as New York City -- where Steven Daedelus was wanted for theft, robbery, impersonating a heath official, and any number of misdemeanors and felonies.

After a particularly impressive heist involving sixty-eight shark fins, two bottles of vintage Moet Cuvee, and a new rabbit for the kitchen's ass-monkey, Jim, Steven was lying low in the offices of Nolita, the restaurant where he worked.

At the same time, Mimi, the restaurant's general manager and all-around harpy, was making a stink about Nolita needing something really great to bring in the customers. Jack Bourdain, the head chef, said his food spoke for itself, but Mimi said that it needed to speak louder, and Seth had intervened before the bitch-slapping started.

Mimi had then said that if the health inspectors closed them down because Steven was jerking off in the cooler, she was going to tell Pino, and no one wanted that because Pino was scary.

So, Steven had suggested that maybe what they all needed was a working vacation onboard the Battlestar Galactica, because was it being decommissioned, and Steven was really good friends with one of their pilots, Kara. Between the two of them they could arrange anything short of a nuclear attack or the presidency, and when Steven reflected, he thought that maybe the nuclear attack wasn't necessarily out of Kara's range.

Going aboard the Galactica meant that Jack could make lots of nice food for lots of important people; the press would be fabulous, and by the time they got back to Caprica City the person that Steven had stolen from would probably have called off the hit, and everything could go back to normal.

Mimi had been thrilled by the idea, but Jack had almost blinked. Even by Jack's standards, Kara Thrace was a little out there, but Steven loved her like a sister, and Jack loved Steven like, well like something or other. So, Jack had rounded up the usual suspects and announced they were taking a little trip. A little intergalactic trip.

And then the world had been blown to smithereens by the Cylons, and Jack had been decidedly less happy about his vacation. His exact words had been along the lines of, "Oh my fucking god, you fucking idiot, I'm trapped on a fucking tin can without any foie gras! How the hell am I supposed to make any reductions without my red wines?! What about my favorite sauté pan? I have to go throw myself out the airlock now. I hate you, Steven."

The whole end of the world thing had made Jack a little tense, but on some level he must've been happy about the being alive thing, because Steven still got laid on a regular basis.

*

The first weeks after the Apocalypse weren't so bad -- apart from the apocalypse part, and the whole explosion in the water tanks and not having any fucking water to cook with parts. The boys from Nolita had been on board the Galactica for almost a whole month at this point, and they knew a few people who knew how to get things done.

If they wanted vegetables, they called Kara Thrace. If they wanted meat, they called Kara Thrace. If they wanted anything that wasn't nailed down, they called Kara Thrace. Or, if Kara was out saving the world they called Dee or Gaeta. Well, Jim called Gaeta or Jack called Dee, and Seth and Teddy just mocked them really loudly in the background.

There were probably correct channels for this sort of thing, but as Steven had pointed out the first night after the end of the world, "Who would you rather call to get a pound of Columbia's finest? Kara or Colonel "I am the drunkest Commanding Officer ever" Tigh?"

"I'd rather call Juan Valdez," Seth had snapped tightly from the washing area that had been doubling as the patisserie area since they'd come onboard.

"I'm sure he'd rather you call him too," Jack had added-in. "I bet his burro misses your fine ass."

"Well, at least we all know what Seth misses the most about home," Teddy had chimed in.

"The bestiality," Steven finished.

"And the coffee," Jack added.

And that was when Seth had grabbed the water hose and tried to drown the entire kitchen. Except that there was no water in the hose because of the big ass hole in the side of the ship. "I hate you people," Seth said simply.

Steven had just wrapped an arm around his neck and given him a noogie. "Isn't it great to be with family at the end of the world?"

*

The second month on Galactica was alternatively better and worse than the first. The ship hadn't been stocked up for a long-term trip, and it was hard to be a three-star kitchen when you were relegated to feeding people freeze-dried eggs, ramen noodles and wilted carrots. And although the slop that had been passing for food on the Galactica before the arrival of the Nolita boys had even given Steven pause, the boys had their standards.

"How am supposed to create anything worth eating without any fucking food!?" Jack howled from the huge freezer that now served as the walk-in because there wasn't anything fresh to actually need the walk-in for. "You save me from the apocalypse to bring me to HELL! Steven, you are so fired!"

"Can you actually fire him?" Jim piped up while peeling potatoes.

"That's not the point," Seth said helpfully. "Sometimes you just need to be able to say you've fired someone. It's like jerking off. Even if you're not in the mood to do it, you should do it anyway."

"You talking about your imaginary sex life again?" Teddy called from the broiling area, which was really just the stove with all the burners on and the covers removed.

"Hey, at least I'm not spending all my days off in my rack!" Seth shot back.

"Yeah, but at least I'm with someone in my rack!" Teddy shot back.

"Children, children," a female voice called over their ruckus. "How many times have I told you that if you want sex toys that's going to costs you extra?"

Everyone turned to welcome Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace into the kitchen. Traditionally, the boys were very territorial about their space. The kitchen was sacred, and you were only allowed in if you were bringing booze, drugs, strippers and you worked there. Since Kara never came by empty-handed she was more than welcome.

Jack tossed several handfuls of ramen noodles back in the oven where he'd been attempting a new casserole that involved canned mushrooms, out-dated meat, and pretending that they could make something palatable out of the leftovers. If anyone could do it, Jack could, because French food was about making something out of nothing, and the Galactica really had nothing.

"You're late," he said. "And where's my food delivery? Why am I paying you to smuggle me food when you bring me no food? Which part of this transaction isn't clicking in your brain?"

Steven laid down his knife. He'd been trying to make three turnips stretch to 75 people, and the slices were becoming imaginary at this point. "Kara, my favorite pilot in the entire world who doesn't have a dick, tell me you've got something that was green at its inception and not altered by the molding process."

Kara just snorted and jumped up on one of the serving tables. "Just your favorite pilot without a dick? I think I'm offended."

"Somebody's got a crush on the CAG," Seth chimed in a sing-song voice.

"You shut your fucking cake-hole," Steven said cheerfully, making his way over to Kara via a detour to smack Seth's ass.

"Gods, you guys still say fuck?" Kara's tone was a bit wistful, and the boys all looked at her curiously.

"Fuck," Jack said.

"Fuck," Teddy said.

"Double fuck," Seth added.

"Are you not allowed to say 'fuck' or something?" Jim asked curiously.

"The military doesn't like its people to use such language," Steven offered helpfully.

"We say frak," Kara added.

Jack made a scoffing noise. "Fuck that."

*

After about seven weeks on the Galactica, the Nolita boys had pretty much sussed out the majority of the crew. They loved Kara because she might as well have been one of them, and the Chief they liked because everyone liked the Chief and his kids. The respected Commander Adama, because it was impossible not to respect the old man, and they thought Tigh was a drunk fucktard, because he was. However, as Jim had so tactfully put it, "He's totally the Commander's boyfriend, isn't he?"

Seth and Jack had both almost chopped off their thumbs, and Steven had laughed so hard he'd gotten the hiccups. This left Teddy to be the one to put his arm around Jim and explain. "Yes, we know the old men are doing it, but it's the military, so try not to get yourself tossed out an airlock by saying that around the wrong person."

After several moments of Jim thinking this over, Seth had spoken up. "So, um, that Baltar guy, is it just me or is he crazy?"

Steven cleared his throat. "Just you."

"Just you," Jack said.

"Well, I think -–" Seth said, but Teddy cut him off.

"It's just you."

Seth scowled down at the packaged oatmeal and raisin mix that he's been reduced to serving in cookies form for desert. "Thank you for the love and support I know I can always count on you guys for."

Steven threw his towel at Seth's head. "We try. Do you want your diaper changed too?"

Seth made a grunting noise. "No, man, I've got it." He looked around the kitchen and shook his head. He was trapped on a ship with the weirdest kitchen staff ever. He loved the guys to death, even though they were into diapers and bestiality and ramen casseroles, and thought the smartest man on Caprica was sane.

Jack spoke up. "Okay, seriously now? Baltar is crazier than Steven on LSD, and that's saying something"

"Have you seen him arguing with himself in the halls?" Seth prodded. "He's totally got an imaginary friend."

"Hey, I never tried to hang myself with my own tie," Steven protested.

Teddy just made a tsking noise. "What did I tell you about bringing your sexual play into the kitchens?"

*

Meal time in the Galactica mess was a plethora of black market deals and attempted bribery with surprisingly profitable results. Apart from the usual dealings of feminine products, hair gel, and contraceptives, there was also a booming trade in food stuffs and condiments. This hadn't always been the case, but after the apocalypse people had become a bit more invested in their dietary input with the idea that each meal might be their last.

The kitchen staff of the Galactica had gone to extraordinary lengths to promote this idea by resorting to everything including blackmail and brainwashing. They subscribed to the idea that what the Commander didn't know couldn't get anyone thrown in the brig. Plus, it was amazing what you could accomplish if you promised someone a decent apple torte.

The transactions were remarkably easy to conduct: the crew would line up with whatever contraband items they had appropriated, and as they moved their trays down the line they would pass them to the cooks who would then decide their worth in various foodstuffs.

"Cally, darlin'!" Steven pushed up his hairnet and leaned over the steaming service trays; he liked Cally because she'd killed a toaster. It implied that she had much bigger balls than her diminutive size would've allowed. He looked down at her empty tray and immediately sussed out the situation. "Whatcha got for me today?"

Cally had the grace to look a bit flushed before she handed over a large object wrapped in paper. Steven looked at her curiously and then unwrapped a bit of the paper. "Oh, you didn't? You know Jack's going to love you for this, right? You must want some chocolate or something, is that it?"

Cally's grin threatened to split her face. "It was nothing, I just found it"

Steven raised an eyebrow. "Found it, huh? Did it fall off the back of a Viper?"

Cally bit her lip, Steven just laughed. "Jack! Present!"

"If you're fucking with me, Daedelus, I swear I'll sick Ellen Tigh on you!" Jack called from his station.

There was a collective shudder from the entire kitchen staff at the mention of Mrs Tigh. Even Steven, who had no standards, tried to steer clear of the Colonel's wife and her claws.

Teddy and Seth had once had to rescue Jack from the XO's lecherous wife, who had cornered Jack between the freezer and the trash dump, much to Jack's chagrin. His exact words had been, "I'd rather die, and you need to leave right now or else the fucking RAMEN I am REDUCED TO MAKING will go bad and I'll have to put myself out of an airlock immediately!"

Yeah, there wasn't a lot of love for the Tighs in the Galactica kitchen, and although the boys hadn't been reduced to putting crushed glass in their freeze-dried eggs, the idea had been discussed in earnest. Many times.

"I think your virtue is safe with me," Steven mocked, tossing the partially wrapped object in Jack's direction. Jack grabbed the sphere, took one look, and his face went blank. There was then an enormous clatter as he came careening out from what was serving at the sauté-cum-ramen boiling station.

"Did you bring me this, kiddo?" he said, striding over to the serving area, leaning across and into Cally's personal space.

Cally swallowed. "Um, yes. Yes, sir."

Jack grabbed her collar and kissed her forehead. "You are now the goddess of the kitchen. Boys, meet Cally, Goddess of the Galactica Kitchen!"

Steven just snickered. "All that for an onion. Imagine if you'd brought him two."

Jack just stomped on his foot. "Shut up, smart ass. Seth! Get over here and talk to your girlfriend!"

*

Somewhere in the third month of their stay the boys came to the conclusion that there were worse things in life than being suck on a Battlestar with lots of people their own age with raging sex drives.

"It could be worse," Seth said one afternoon, while they were mucking around in the kitchen and playing pyramid with packages of ramen noodles. "We could be Cylon slaves."

Jack made a face. "The Cylons don't take slaves. They just kill you."

"They'd make me their slave," Steven said blithely. "I'm too gorgeous to be killed."

Both Teddy and Jack snorted derisively. "I think that much egotism just goes to show he's not a Cylon," Jack said.

"Yeah, but Teddy might be," Seth spoke up. "Nobody's hair looks that good all the time."

Teddy just rolled his eyes. "Don’t hate just because I have the hookup with Starbuck."

"Don’t you mean Steven has the hookup with Starbuck?"

"Same thing."

"We could've still been in Caprica City," Jim pointed out, helpfully.

"Thank you for that downer," Jack said.

"Or we could be married to Ellen Tigh," Teddy suggested.

Everyone shuddered.

The horror was thankfully interrupted by everyone's favorite produce delivery girl/pilot/black market operative. "Kara, love of my life," Steven said tossing his packet of ramen-cum-pyramid ball towards Seth. "Let's talk business."

Kara just snorted and crossed her arms. Steven smirked and gestured towards the freezer. "Step into my office."

Kara grinned up at Steven with all the tolerant amusement of someone who'd seen Steven naked on multiple occasions.

"Before we talk business though," Steven said, taking the cigar that Kara offered him, "I've got this bottle of ambrosia. Vintage. You fancy a game of cards?"

Kara clipped the end of her own cigar. "I have three bottles of ambrosia, but I can always make do with one of yours."

Steven rolled his eyes and took the cutter. "Who said this was for you? No, see, I was thinking we could have a bit of a party invite Helo, Lee, Cally, my boys, maybe Galen, if he's not still in a strop about the toaster, and take everyone's credits. You know, make a night of it."

"Are you suggesting that we fleece the entire fleet?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Kara raised an eyebrow as she lit her cigar. "You must have me mistaken for someone with ethics."

"No, I don't." Steven used the proffered light. "Why do you think I like you? Speaking of which, how are you getting on with finding us some greenery? Jack's about to go spare without any vegetables."

"Security is pretty tight on Cloud Nine; it could take a day or two."

"Oh right, no worries getting a bit of weed, but you want a bean or two and it's like getting in an Adama's trousers."

Kara just smirked. "Depends on the Adama."

Steven puffed thoughtfully. "Tell me more."

"You know I can only speak for Lee's brother"

Steven actually looked distressed. "Oh, well, that's disappointing. I thought you had intimate knowledge of the CAG. That could be worth a lot of credits."

Kara smirked. "I never said I didn't."

"Okay, call me thick, but have you got something you want to share with the class, Captain Thrace?"

"Would you prefer photographic or video?"

Steven blinked. "How much for both?"

"There's a third option."

"Are you selling time shares?"

"No, but, you could talk to Helo about those."

"Helo, eh? I thought he was more concerned with his toaster being up the duff."

"Well, yeah, but you know Helo and Lee go way back."

"How far back are we talking?"

"Oh, to about the aft cargo hold on the third deck."

"See, and here I was thinking that the apocalypse was a bad thing."

"I don't know, it's been pretty good to me so far." Kara laughed, ashing her cigar on the floor. Steven looked around the freezer at Jack puttering away with his contraband onions and at Seth and Teddy throwing bits of ramen at Jim. This rag-tag band of misfits was his family, and at least they were safe.

"Yeah, you know, you might be right," he said thoughtfully. "It could always have turned out a lot worse."

-end-

Beta by the very fantabulous

ethrosdemon. Dedicated to her and

lyra_sena,

nifra_idril,

serialkarma and

antheia. And

literaryll whose musical benevolence allowed this to be finished. And

oxoniensis who just gets credit for being that cool.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Junior Mafia 'Get Money'

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From:

oxoniensis.livejournal.com

"That's not the point," Seth said helpfully. "Sometimes you just need to be able to say you've fired someone. It's like jerking off. Even if you're not in the mood to do it, you should do it anyway."

Some comments just transcend fandom! I have much love for your crack!

Also, where's my credit? Soundtrack provider?!! Hmmm??

From:

Educated Black Person, Esq., A.A., B.A., MBA, Ph.D., RN, NAACP, AAA

BSG/KC - The Art of Eating Well During an Apocalypse

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