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Entry tags:
fic: rpf, Katee/Michael, Teenage FBI, R
Dude, I don't think I have a soul anymore...
Disclaimer: not mine.
Rating: R, language, sex, adult situations
Fandom: RPF, newBattlestar Galactica
Pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Michael Trucco
Length: 1,800
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pirateygoodness challenged me a bit ago with Katee/Trucco and high-fives. Title comes from the Guided by Voices song of the same name.
Teenage FBI
by ALC Punk!
Katee is laughing, and she's pretty sure this is Michael's fault.
"High five!" He calls over the sound of the jukebox and the crowd in the bar. His hand is high in the air--way too high, since he's so damned tall.
She pokes a finger into his gut, making him lean down enough and takes a swipe at the upraised hand. She almost connects. "You're cheating!" She accuses, voice full of laughter. Laughter that bubbles up right into her next swallow of beer, making her cough a little.
Michael helps her out by pounding her on the back. Since he's also not a weak man, this leaves her gasping and wheezing and generally wondering if this is what being run over by a Mack truck feels like.
"Better?" He shouts.
"No!" Holding up her now empty glass, she pouts, "It's empty!"
He laughs again, which is exactly what she'd intended, and waves at the bartender.
Two more full beers, and Katee can't even count the number that they've both had so far anymore. She's sure she should think this is bad, but it's Trucco, and they're happy about the renewal, and the beer is crap, but it's cheap.
And cheap is good.
Another beer, another game of trying to tag Michael's hand, and Katee falls off her stool, this time.
"You are so drunk!" He shouts, his breath not particularly impressive.
From the safety of his arms, she shouts back, "You're one to talk!" before breaking into giggles, because he caught her, but she's still half on her barstool. The pose isn't exactly lady-like, and Katee's pretty sure her pretty pink dress is giving more than a few people a pretty nice view.
Around them, the noise level of the bar shifts upwards as someone's demand for something vaguely rock-like pounds into them all via badly-placed speakers.
Katee bounces a little to it as Michael puts her back on the stool. Her hand grabs his arm, stopping him. She's afraid she'll fall over if he lets go. Or maybe she's already fallen over and this is the aftermath. That part where everything is supposed to be silent.
Putting his mouth close to her ear, Michael bellows something about the bathroom and pulls free.
Too busy trying to stay upright, she doesn't watch him walk off. Although she thinks about it, because Michael's ass is really nice. And, really, she never sees it enough. Giggling to herself, she tosses bills at the bartender and successfully hops to the floor. Her shoes give her a bit of a problem before she remembers that they are not the boss of her.
Trailing him isn't hard--only one set of bathrooms in the place, after all--and Katee leans against the wall opposite the little boy's room.
She remembers a study that declared that men check each other for length when they're in there, and she starts giggling again, because that is really too much. It's hard to imagine women doing the same thing until she catches herself glancing at a woman walking by, checking to see if her breasts are larger than they should be.
"Having fun?" Michael teases her, joining her in holding up the wall.
"Oh, yeah--" she giggles into a hiccup and then snorts, elbowing him, "Anyone larger than life in there?"
"Me."
And Katee doubts he has any idea what she's getting at, but it doesn't matter, because his reply is too fucking funny not to laugh at.
"Stop falling over!"
"Make me," she suggests, wondering if a person can die of laughing too hard. Probably not.
"Fine."
She's mid-laugh when he kisses her, lips and teeth clash and she yelps because that was her tongue. Shoving at his shoulder, she gets him to change the angle slightly. Now her neck is going to get stiff, but she doesn't care, because Michael's hands are cupping her face as he tries to stop her from laughing. And his hands feel nice and solid against her cheeks. There's something scarily reassuring about them being there.
Pulling away, he licks her lip, then kisses it again, "Sorry."
"It was my tongue, you idiot," she grumbles.
"Sorry," he says again, leaning back in and kissing her properly. Or not so properly, because his mouth is doing things to her lack of restraint, and she's seriously considering walking him backwards into the restroom and locking the door.
Which is awful, because it's a public bathroom, and God only knows what's on the floor, walls and sink. Not to mention the ceiling.
A giggle escapes her, and she breaks the kiss.
"Better?" He asks, leaning against her.
She's leaning against the wall, so that works out all right. Except that now she's aware that his kiss was definitely not innocent. Feeling just a little smug, she wriggles her hips, pressing against him. "Don't know if this is better or worse," she teases, hands on his waist to keep him from getting away easily.
A groan escapes him, and he rocks into her hips.
Katee thinks they could do this all night, lean against the wall and tease each other with words and bodies. Well, if they weren't nearly falling-down drunk, she amends, as Michael has to suddenly press his hand against the wall in an effort not to fall over after she shoves against him too hard.
"Stop moving," he suggests.
"We're making a spectacle of ourselves." Katee points out, proud that she managed a difficult word like 'spectacle'. She might even have used it correctly in her sentence.
"Nah. Makin' a spectacle would be doing this, out there." He waves a hand towards the bar proper.
"'k."
He actually looks suspicious. Like he's not sure what she agreed to. Or if she's even agreed to anything. Katee pokes his side, "I'd like to go back to my room now, please."
"Oh. Right." Michael rolls off of her, ending up with his shoulders against the wall and his head tipped back.
Katee ducks her head, smirking as she starts back through the bar and towards the elevators. "You are coming, right?" She asks over her shoulder.
A little disappointed that he doesn't immediately follow, Katee chalks it up to mixed signals and ignores the people who might try to get her attention in the bar. She's almost used to ignoring people by now. Once at the bank of elevators, she pushes the up arrow. She giggles a little, listening to the machine crank and creak slightly--obviously, the hotel needs to look into a little oil for its bearings. Or whatever they're called.
Once inside, her finger stabs the button for her floor.
The doors seem to think about whether they're going to slide closed, and then they start only to stop halfway when a hand presses between them.
"Forget something?" She suggests as Michael joins her, leaning against the back of the car.
"My brain. My sense of balance." He reaches out, hand catching hers and tugging her against his side. "Possibly, even my mind."
"You have a brain and a mind, hrm?" She teases.
"Uh-huh."
They both start laughing, which is stupid and way too much for their bodies. They're leaning on each other, giggling, when the elevator opens on her floor. Somehow, they get out before the doors close, and stagger down the hallway towards her door.
Katee's fishing in a pocket when Michael gropes her ass, and she yelps. "Hey!"
"What?"
She smacks his arm, "Not in front of the children."
"What children?" He catches her by the waist, leaning over her as she sticks the key-card in the lock. "Mmm. Nice view."
Katee shimmies, tilting her head back with a smirk, "So I've been told." She's very proud of her pretty pink dress and how it hugs her in ways that are almost indecent. It's not her fault she was born with an abundance of nice curves, after all. And he does have a very nice view, thanks to the very nice cut of the bodice.
Pushing on the door, they make it into the room before anything more overt occurs. Standing there, Michael at her back, Katee shivers a little in anticipation. It's not like this is new, really. But she's drunk and he's drunk, and they've kissed and flirted before but it's never quite gone this far.
Kissing, then, sounds like a good plan, and Katee turns to do just that.
People always ask her who the best kisser is, and she always prevaricates, or talks around the issue. Most of the kisses on set have been stage kisses, without passion or meaning behind them.
Most of them. But sometimes, in the heat of the moment, when Kara's kissing Sam Anders, Katee's also kissing Michael. She thinks that, in a way, you almost have to have a half-assed crush on the man you're supposed to be married to (Jamie's exempt, because she's fairly certain Kerry would kill her if she tried something like that).
Katee's not going to ever lie to herself that she and Michael have any sort of special connection, though.
But he kisses really well.
As his hands cup her face again, she thinks she might have to amend that to really really well.
Possibly really really really well. And then she's giggling, because that's just damned absurd, and Michael's laughing back at her without having a clue.
Which is ok. Most men don't.
"You're a hot little thing," Katee teases, stepping back to reach behind and unzip her dress. She wriggles, letting the straps fall down her shoulders and then all of it sort of wafts downwards towards the floor, leaving her naked except for her underwear.
Bending, she scoops the dress up and tosses it over a chair--better that than Tricia yelling about creases and steam.
"Yeah?" Whether he recognizes the line or not doesn't matter, because his hands are on her skin when she straightens, brushing slowly up her sides as she backs and he follows.
If someone had told Katee she'd ever be screwing Michael, she would have laughed and said they were nuts. But as one of them trips and they both sprawl on the bed, she thinks maybe it might have been a little inevitable.
Because, really, he is hot. And so is she.
-f-
Disclaimer: not mine.
Rating: R, language, sex, adult situations
Fandom: RPF, newBattlestar Galactica
Pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Michael Trucco
Length: 1,800
Notes:
pirateygoodness challenged me a bit ago with Katee/Trucco and high-fives. Title comes from the Guided by Voices song of the same name.Teenage FBI
by ALC Punk!
Katee is laughing, and she's pretty sure this is Michael's fault.
"High five!" He calls over the sound of the jukebox and the crowd in the bar. His hand is high in the air--way too high, since he's so damned tall.
She pokes a finger into his gut, making him lean down enough and takes a swipe at the upraised hand. She almost connects. "You're cheating!" She accuses, voice full of laughter. Laughter that bubbles up right into her next swallow of beer, making her cough a little.
Michael helps her out by pounding her on the back. Since he's also not a weak man, this leaves her gasping and wheezing and generally wondering if this is what being run over by a Mack truck feels like.
"Better?" He shouts.
"No!" Holding up her now empty glass, she pouts, "It's empty!"
He laughs again, which is exactly what she'd intended, and waves at the bartender.
Two more full beers, and Katee can't even count the number that they've both had so far anymore. She's sure she should think this is bad, but it's Trucco, and they're happy about the renewal, and the beer is crap, but it's cheap.
And cheap is good.
Another beer, another game of trying to tag Michael's hand, and Katee falls off her stool, this time.
"You are so drunk!" He shouts, his breath not particularly impressive.
From the safety of his arms, she shouts back, "You're one to talk!" before breaking into giggles, because he caught her, but she's still half on her barstool. The pose isn't exactly lady-like, and Katee's pretty sure her pretty pink dress is giving more than a few people a pretty nice view.
Around them, the noise level of the bar shifts upwards as someone's demand for something vaguely rock-like pounds into them all via badly-placed speakers.
Katee bounces a little to it as Michael puts her back on the stool. Her hand grabs his arm, stopping him. She's afraid she'll fall over if he lets go. Or maybe she's already fallen over and this is the aftermath. That part where everything is supposed to be silent.
Putting his mouth close to her ear, Michael bellows something about the bathroom and pulls free.
Too busy trying to stay upright, she doesn't watch him walk off. Although she thinks about it, because Michael's ass is really nice. And, really, she never sees it enough. Giggling to herself, she tosses bills at the bartender and successfully hops to the floor. Her shoes give her a bit of a problem before she remembers that they are not the boss of her.
Trailing him isn't hard--only one set of bathrooms in the place, after all--and Katee leans against the wall opposite the little boy's room.
She remembers a study that declared that men check each other for length when they're in there, and she starts giggling again, because that is really too much. It's hard to imagine women doing the same thing until she catches herself glancing at a woman walking by, checking to see if her breasts are larger than they should be.
"Having fun?" Michael teases her, joining her in holding up the wall.
"Oh, yeah--" she giggles into a hiccup and then snorts, elbowing him, "Anyone larger than life in there?"
"Me."
And Katee doubts he has any idea what she's getting at, but it doesn't matter, because his reply is too fucking funny not to laugh at.
"Stop falling over!"
"Make me," she suggests, wondering if a person can die of laughing too hard. Probably not.
"Fine."
She's mid-laugh when he kisses her, lips and teeth clash and she yelps because that was her tongue. Shoving at his shoulder, she gets him to change the angle slightly. Now her neck is going to get stiff, but she doesn't care, because Michael's hands are cupping her face as he tries to stop her from laughing. And his hands feel nice and solid against her cheeks. There's something scarily reassuring about them being there.
Pulling away, he licks her lip, then kisses it again, "Sorry."
"It was my tongue, you idiot," she grumbles.
"Sorry," he says again, leaning back in and kissing her properly. Or not so properly, because his mouth is doing things to her lack of restraint, and she's seriously considering walking him backwards into the restroom and locking the door.
Which is awful, because it's a public bathroom, and God only knows what's on the floor, walls and sink. Not to mention the ceiling.
A giggle escapes her, and she breaks the kiss.
"Better?" He asks, leaning against her.
She's leaning against the wall, so that works out all right. Except that now she's aware that his kiss was definitely not innocent. Feeling just a little smug, she wriggles her hips, pressing against him. "Don't know if this is better or worse," she teases, hands on his waist to keep him from getting away easily.
A groan escapes him, and he rocks into her hips.
Katee thinks they could do this all night, lean against the wall and tease each other with words and bodies. Well, if they weren't nearly falling-down drunk, she amends, as Michael has to suddenly press his hand against the wall in an effort not to fall over after she shoves against him too hard.
"Stop moving," he suggests.
"We're making a spectacle of ourselves." Katee points out, proud that she managed a difficult word like 'spectacle'. She might even have used it correctly in her sentence.
"Nah. Makin' a spectacle would be doing this, out there." He waves a hand towards the bar proper.
"'k."
He actually looks suspicious. Like he's not sure what she agreed to. Or if she's even agreed to anything. Katee pokes his side, "I'd like to go back to my room now, please."
"Oh. Right." Michael rolls off of her, ending up with his shoulders against the wall and his head tipped back.
Katee ducks her head, smirking as she starts back through the bar and towards the elevators. "You are coming, right?" She asks over her shoulder.
A little disappointed that he doesn't immediately follow, Katee chalks it up to mixed signals and ignores the people who might try to get her attention in the bar. She's almost used to ignoring people by now. Once at the bank of elevators, she pushes the up arrow. She giggles a little, listening to the machine crank and creak slightly--obviously, the hotel needs to look into a little oil for its bearings. Or whatever they're called.
Once inside, her finger stabs the button for her floor.
The doors seem to think about whether they're going to slide closed, and then they start only to stop halfway when a hand presses between them.
"Forget something?" She suggests as Michael joins her, leaning against the back of the car.
"My brain. My sense of balance." He reaches out, hand catching hers and tugging her against his side. "Possibly, even my mind."
"You have a brain and a mind, hrm?" She teases.
"Uh-huh."
They both start laughing, which is stupid and way too much for their bodies. They're leaning on each other, giggling, when the elevator opens on her floor. Somehow, they get out before the doors close, and stagger down the hallway towards her door.
Katee's fishing in a pocket when Michael gropes her ass, and she yelps. "Hey!"
"What?"
She smacks his arm, "Not in front of the children."
"What children?" He catches her by the waist, leaning over her as she sticks the key-card in the lock. "Mmm. Nice view."
Katee shimmies, tilting her head back with a smirk, "So I've been told." She's very proud of her pretty pink dress and how it hugs her in ways that are almost indecent. It's not her fault she was born with an abundance of nice curves, after all. And he does have a very nice view, thanks to the very nice cut of the bodice.
Pushing on the door, they make it into the room before anything more overt occurs. Standing there, Michael at her back, Katee shivers a little in anticipation. It's not like this is new, really. But she's drunk and he's drunk, and they've kissed and flirted before but it's never quite gone this far.
Kissing, then, sounds like a good plan, and Katee turns to do just that.
People always ask her who the best kisser is, and she always prevaricates, or talks around the issue. Most of the kisses on set have been stage kisses, without passion or meaning behind them.
Most of them. But sometimes, in the heat of the moment, when Kara's kissing Sam Anders, Katee's also kissing Michael. She thinks that, in a way, you almost have to have a half-assed crush on the man you're supposed to be married to (Jamie's exempt, because she's fairly certain Kerry would kill her if she tried something like that).
Katee's not going to ever lie to herself that she and Michael have any sort of special connection, though.
But he kisses really well.
As his hands cup her face again, she thinks she might have to amend that to really really well.
Possibly really really really well. And then she's giggling, because that's just damned absurd, and Michael's laughing back at her without having a clue.
Which is ok. Most men don't.
"You're a hot little thing," Katee teases, stepping back to reach behind and unzip her dress. She wriggles, letting the straps fall down her shoulders and then all of it sort of wafts downwards towards the floor, leaving her naked except for her underwear.
Bending, she scoops the dress up and tosses it over a chair--better that than Tricia yelling about creases and steam.
"Yeah?" Whether he recognizes the line or not doesn't matter, because his hands are on her skin when she straightens, brushing slowly up her sides as she backs and he follows.
If someone had told Katee she'd ever be screwing Michael, she would have laughed and said they were nuts. But as one of them trips and they both sprawl on the bed, she thinks maybe it might have been a little inevitable.
Because, really, he is hot. And so is she.
-f-
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It's not her fault she was born with an abundance of nice curves, after all.
not her fault at all... and the rest of us are just lucky that we get to ogle her on tv. err, I meant "watch" her on tv.
Because, really, he is hot. And so is she.
Sigh. So true. Too much hotness to handle, if that's possible.
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Oh, I ogle. I ogle a lot.
Thank you ;)
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Er.
Thank you =)
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Thank you =)
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That's where you stop!
And, her shoes are not the boss of her, indeed! Hee!
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Mwahaha.
Thank you =)
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ok, you just rock. They both make adorable hot drunks. the fact that they're stumbling up to her room only makes it better :)
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Thank you =)
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Ahem.
Thanks. =)
Also, they are kind of like candy--that chocolate that is just so rich you love it, but can't eat a whole bunch of...