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Entry tags:
fic: newBSG, Kara/Anders, Dodging Reality, R
Disclaimer: not mine.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
Set: LDYB, but not too long after the ordered settlement.
Rating: R, non-graphic sex, language, mockery, het.
Length: 2,000+
Notes: Fandom High Subconscious Reference left in, 'cause it's really the perfect name. Yes. I don't know who I blame for this anymore. Writing Season Two Kara and Sam is... wierd.
Dodging Reality
by ALC Punk!
In Sam Anders' defense, he was really drunk when he said it. Not that Kara Thrace really cared about excuses. She was torn, of course, between offense, amusement, and some deeper emotion that scared her a little. In the two weeks since the Caprican refugees had arrived on Galactica, they'd been settled either on the planet or on other ships. All except Sam Anders, Jean Barolay, and one or two others who refused to leave their illustrious leader behind. Really, if Kara were the jealous type, she'd think they all wanted to frak with her man.
Still, that was no excuse for his drunken admission.
"You did what?" Maybe she'd heard him wrong.
Sam swayed toward her, rather than walking. As though he weren't quite sure the floor would hold him up--Kara didn't think the bunk room would attack him, but he apparently thought he couldn't be too careful. A smirk hovered over his lips, "I named your breasts," he replied, his words only slightly slurred with alcohol and something else.
"Yeah? When?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Caprica." A happy smile dragged the corners of his mouth up. A mouth that Kara was usually very happy to get acquainted with.
Right now, though, she was thinking about punching that mouth. "What the frak did you do that for, Sammy?"
He stepped closer, grabbing for her and missing when she dodged away, laughing. He laughed, then lunged again, catching her up against the wall, and leaning like maybe his legs were about to give out. It was possible they were, too, Kara had discovered he was mostly a light-weight. "What the hell else was I s'pposed to do 'till you came back for me?"
Kara laughed, which got smothered when his mouth connected with hers. She let him kiss her, because, gods, but he was good at it. She even let a little moan escape and stretched against him, hands hooking behind his neck to keep him where he was.
But eventually, she figured she should remind him who was boss here and shoved him a little. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"What if I named your ass or your feet, numskull?"
He considered that, then grinned, "Would you?"
Kara narrowed her eyes, "I could name your dick, too."
"Yeah?" Sam smirked harder at her, pressing up against her, and making her aware that he wasn't unhappy about this idea. Or about being as close to her as he was.
"Daisy." Kara suggested, shoving at him for some space.
He fought back, grabbing her ass in the process and turning them so he was the one leaning up against the wall, and she was sorta draped on him. "Daisy, huh?" He leered a little at her.
Glaring, cranky that she hadn't annoyed him, Kara wondered why the hell she was still leaning against him. She pushed away and grabbed for the jar of alcohol. It was empty, and she intensified her glare as she looked at Sam. "This is your fault."
"Daisy," Sam said, "Is kinda not caring."
Reminded of his transgression--not that she could blame him, of course. Kara could totally understand being obsessed with her tits. They were nice. She poked at one absently, then shook the jar at Sam, frowning. "This is empty."
"We drank it," Sam confirmed. He looked like he wanted to push away from the wall and come after her.
Kara figured he was afraid of falling over if he did, so she smirked at him, "Gonna come catch me and my tits, baby?"
"Nah. I don't have to chase you." He replied, tone lazy.
He was right, of course. He didn't have to chase her. Kara wasn't planning on running--not as long as it stayed like this: easy frakking and jokes and drinking. Anything more, anything that smacked of commitment, and she'd run. She carefully ignored that going back to a burnt-out planet for him might be construed as something. They'd had a duty to recover those refugees.
They'd been human and stranded, and she'd made a promise (also not a commitment), and Starbuck kept her frakking promises.
"You sure about that?" she asked, leaning back against the table. "You look pretty frakkin' drunk, Anders. I'm not so sure you can get Daisy up for me. I might have to toss you out and go lookin' elsewhere."
"Well, hey," he pointed towards the hatch. "Door's not locked, and your boots are out there, not mine."
He seemed so casual about it, Kara almost took him up on the offer. But she'd been around Galactica enough to know there was no point. None of them could match what he had, really. She heaved a sigh and set the jar down. "No point."
"No point?"
Kara began sauntering towards him, looking at him, her eyes starting from his bare feet and slowly working their way up his muscled legs--she couldn't exactly remember why he'd lost his pants. She paused to lick her lips at the way his shirts were riding up, exposing the low-rise of his boxers and the strip of skin above his waistband. She had the silly thought that he'd had her the moment she'd seen that patch of skin back on Caprica, with its dusting of hairs.
"Like what you see, baby?" Sam asked, his voice almost a caress.
Fighting against the hypnotic pull of him, Kara snickered, "Don't know, Sammy. Daisy still looks a little limp, there."
He laughed and stepped away from the wall, grabbing for her. Kara let him pull her into him and got her hands under his shirt. He kissed her, the movement almost clumsy. Pushing up on her toes, Kara dragged him closer, backing as she did, keeping her footing better than he was. He stumbled, once, and she slammed back against the table, cursing into his mouth.
The pain was forgotten with his hands on her breasts.
Somewhere between stripping their shirts off and getting her pants and his boxers off, Kara thought up the brilliant idea of crawling up on the table. Sam laughed as she knocked their jar to the ground and it bounced, landing in Dragon's rack. Kara lamented its loss right up until Sam shoved her backwards and the cold metal of the table made her shriek as it contacted her back.
"You ok?" Sam asked, arrested in his movements. Since he was half-on the table and half-off, it wasn't the most dignified of poses, and Kara's head dropped back as she gave in to the laughter filling her.
A moment later, Sam shook his head and joined her in her laughter. He might not know what it was about, but damn if he didn't have a good laugh. Kara felt like he was wrapping her up in it, and she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down against her.
He over-balanced as he tried to keep from crushing her, bringing all of his weight onto the table, and especially the corner they were on. The table decided it had had enough abuse. Kara heard an alarming sound and opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late. The weight of two adults, rough-housing and bouncing against the leg was more than enough, and it buckled, sending them sliding sideways.
Sam swore and rolled as they fell, landing first.
"Frak--" Kara slammed into him, glad that her landing had been a little softer. She'd fallen on the deck enough times as it was. She'd stopped counting her bruises long ago.
"Ow."
"Articulate, Anders." Kara giggled at her own ability to use big words while being so drunk she fell off a table.
"I'm dyin' here, and you're mocking me?"
"Yeah." She giggled her way into kissing him again, wriggling to get herself situated against him a little better. They fit in a way that made her breath catch, sometimes. Now was no exception, and she gasped into his mouth, the giggles gone as his hands pulled at her hips.
"Hurts less," he informed her, hands skating up her sides to her breasts.
"Wouldn't want to bruise your cute ass--" Kara let out a sound she refused to acknowledge as being quite so desperate or breathy, and pressed into his hands.
Two weeks (and nine months, and one week before that), and she was a little scared at how fast he read her body. He didn't always get it right--but Kara liked sex, liked the way Sam liked sex, too--and he was more often hit than miss. Maybe it was just his training as a pyramid player, something that made him concentrate, even when he was so drunk he didn't seem to have any control over anything else.
"My ass is only bruised because you broke the table," he mocked, breathless beneath her.
"Shut up, Sam," Kara suggested.
He laughed up at her, then the sound broke off on a moan as she did that thing with her hips that she knew drove him insane.
She was learning him fast, too.
Afterwards, when she'd moved them to her rack and he'd gone (naked) to retrieve her boots and she was wearing his shirt and he was in nothing but his boxers and they were almost asleep, Kara poked him.
"What?"
The sex was damned fabulous. Kara figured that was why she didn't kick him out of her rack or life. He'd probably love living on New Caprica, big nature boy like him. She yawned and propped herself up on one hand. "What'd you name 'em?"
"Huh?" Sex and alcohol had clearly taken their toll on him. His eyes were fuzzy as he stared at her.
"My tits, asshole. What'd you name 'em?"
"Brat." He yawned, closing his eyes. "It's stupid."
"I could tell everyone about Daisy." It wasn't really an empty threat, either. Kara figured she might get drunk enough to joke about Daisy a time or two before he got to be an old fling. He'd move on and she'd move on, and she'd miss the sex a lot.
"Go ahead." He challenged, not sounding worried about the entire fleet finding out his dick was named Daisy.
Kara shoved him a little, but kept him from climbing over when he started to get up. "C'mon, Sam. They're my breasts. I deserve to know." So she could hold it over him forever and laugh herself sick. And maybe feel a bit pissed at him claiming parts of her anatomy. She'd have to decide about the latter.
"Fine, fine. If I tell you can I go to sleep, Kara?"
He sounded like a cranky two-year-old, and Kara couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. She bit his shoulder--lightly--and nodded.
"Ow." He glared with one eye open and then closed it. "It's stupid."
"You said that already."
"Just warnin' you."
He paused for so long she was about to punch him to get him to say something when he said, voice soft, "Star and Buck."
Kara stared at him, then snorted, "You're right. That is frakkin' dumb, Sam."
"I said I named 'em, I didn't say I was brilliant about it." He patted her shoulder and tugged her closer.
"Really not brilliant," she muttered, knowing she should kick him out now. Rules were, he wasn't really supposed to stay overnight. But the Admiral had always been a soft-touch, and with the President ordering the settlement on New Caprica, Kara figured she'd get away with bending the rules a lot more now. The infractions had earned her a glare and a lecture from Colonel Tigh.
She convinced herself it was just going to be one more night every time he stayed in her rack.
Really. She should kick him out some morning, take her dog tag and let him go. He'd probably be a lot happier without someone like her to weight him down.
Of course, he was really hot, and could almost keep up with her. She might have to keep him around for a while. In the morning, she'd get put on report and have to speak to Colonel Tigh, who would give her that grumpy yet oddly disturbed look, and that would make her day. Because rattling Tigh was totally worth the sex and the sleeping too close to her and stealing all of the blankets.
Kara fell asleep, the sound of Sam's snores chasing her into her dreams.
-f-
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
Set: LDYB, but not too long after the ordered settlement.
Rating: R, non-graphic sex, language, mockery, het.
Length: 2,000+
Notes: Fandom High Subconscious Reference left in, 'cause it's really the perfect name. Yes. I don't know who I blame for this anymore. Writing Season Two Kara and Sam is... wierd.
Dodging Reality
by ALC Punk!
In Sam Anders' defense, he was really drunk when he said it. Not that Kara Thrace really cared about excuses. She was torn, of course, between offense, amusement, and some deeper emotion that scared her a little. In the two weeks since the Caprican refugees had arrived on Galactica, they'd been settled either on the planet or on other ships. All except Sam Anders, Jean Barolay, and one or two others who refused to leave their illustrious leader behind. Really, if Kara were the jealous type, she'd think they all wanted to frak with her man.
Still, that was no excuse for his drunken admission.
"You did what?" Maybe she'd heard him wrong.
Sam swayed toward her, rather than walking. As though he weren't quite sure the floor would hold him up--Kara didn't think the bunk room would attack him, but he apparently thought he couldn't be too careful. A smirk hovered over his lips, "I named your breasts," he replied, his words only slightly slurred with alcohol and something else.
"Yeah? When?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Caprica." A happy smile dragged the corners of his mouth up. A mouth that Kara was usually very happy to get acquainted with.
Right now, though, she was thinking about punching that mouth. "What the frak did you do that for, Sammy?"
He stepped closer, grabbing for her and missing when she dodged away, laughing. He laughed, then lunged again, catching her up against the wall, and leaning like maybe his legs were about to give out. It was possible they were, too, Kara had discovered he was mostly a light-weight. "What the hell else was I s'pposed to do 'till you came back for me?"
Kara laughed, which got smothered when his mouth connected with hers. She let him kiss her, because, gods, but he was good at it. She even let a little moan escape and stretched against him, hands hooking behind his neck to keep him where he was.
But eventually, she figured she should remind him who was boss here and shoved him a little. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"What if I named your ass or your feet, numskull?"
He considered that, then grinned, "Would you?"
Kara narrowed her eyes, "I could name your dick, too."
"Yeah?" Sam smirked harder at her, pressing up against her, and making her aware that he wasn't unhappy about this idea. Or about being as close to her as he was.
"Daisy." Kara suggested, shoving at him for some space.
He fought back, grabbing her ass in the process and turning them so he was the one leaning up against the wall, and she was sorta draped on him. "Daisy, huh?" He leered a little at her.
Glaring, cranky that she hadn't annoyed him, Kara wondered why the hell she was still leaning against him. She pushed away and grabbed for the jar of alcohol. It was empty, and she intensified her glare as she looked at Sam. "This is your fault."
"Daisy," Sam said, "Is kinda not caring."
Reminded of his transgression--not that she could blame him, of course. Kara could totally understand being obsessed with her tits. They were nice. She poked at one absently, then shook the jar at Sam, frowning. "This is empty."
"We drank it," Sam confirmed. He looked like he wanted to push away from the wall and come after her.
Kara figured he was afraid of falling over if he did, so she smirked at him, "Gonna come catch me and my tits, baby?"
"Nah. I don't have to chase you." He replied, tone lazy.
He was right, of course. He didn't have to chase her. Kara wasn't planning on running--not as long as it stayed like this: easy frakking and jokes and drinking. Anything more, anything that smacked of commitment, and she'd run. She carefully ignored that going back to a burnt-out planet for him might be construed as something. They'd had a duty to recover those refugees.
They'd been human and stranded, and she'd made a promise (also not a commitment), and Starbuck kept her frakking promises.
"You sure about that?" she asked, leaning back against the table. "You look pretty frakkin' drunk, Anders. I'm not so sure you can get Daisy up for me. I might have to toss you out and go lookin' elsewhere."
"Well, hey," he pointed towards the hatch. "Door's not locked, and your boots are out there, not mine."
He seemed so casual about it, Kara almost took him up on the offer. But she'd been around Galactica enough to know there was no point. None of them could match what he had, really. She heaved a sigh and set the jar down. "No point."
"No point?"
Kara began sauntering towards him, looking at him, her eyes starting from his bare feet and slowly working their way up his muscled legs--she couldn't exactly remember why he'd lost his pants. She paused to lick her lips at the way his shirts were riding up, exposing the low-rise of his boxers and the strip of skin above his waistband. She had the silly thought that he'd had her the moment she'd seen that patch of skin back on Caprica, with its dusting of hairs.
"Like what you see, baby?" Sam asked, his voice almost a caress.
Fighting against the hypnotic pull of him, Kara snickered, "Don't know, Sammy. Daisy still looks a little limp, there."
He laughed and stepped away from the wall, grabbing for her. Kara let him pull her into him and got her hands under his shirt. He kissed her, the movement almost clumsy. Pushing up on her toes, Kara dragged him closer, backing as she did, keeping her footing better than he was. He stumbled, once, and she slammed back against the table, cursing into his mouth.
The pain was forgotten with his hands on her breasts.
Somewhere between stripping their shirts off and getting her pants and his boxers off, Kara thought up the brilliant idea of crawling up on the table. Sam laughed as she knocked their jar to the ground and it bounced, landing in Dragon's rack. Kara lamented its loss right up until Sam shoved her backwards and the cold metal of the table made her shriek as it contacted her back.
"You ok?" Sam asked, arrested in his movements. Since he was half-on the table and half-off, it wasn't the most dignified of poses, and Kara's head dropped back as she gave in to the laughter filling her.
A moment later, Sam shook his head and joined her in her laughter. He might not know what it was about, but damn if he didn't have a good laugh. Kara felt like he was wrapping her up in it, and she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down against her.
He over-balanced as he tried to keep from crushing her, bringing all of his weight onto the table, and especially the corner they were on. The table decided it had had enough abuse. Kara heard an alarming sound and opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late. The weight of two adults, rough-housing and bouncing against the leg was more than enough, and it buckled, sending them sliding sideways.
Sam swore and rolled as they fell, landing first.
"Frak--" Kara slammed into him, glad that her landing had been a little softer. She'd fallen on the deck enough times as it was. She'd stopped counting her bruises long ago.
"Ow."
"Articulate, Anders." Kara giggled at her own ability to use big words while being so drunk she fell off a table.
"I'm dyin' here, and you're mocking me?"
"Yeah." She giggled her way into kissing him again, wriggling to get herself situated against him a little better. They fit in a way that made her breath catch, sometimes. Now was no exception, and she gasped into his mouth, the giggles gone as his hands pulled at her hips.
"Hurts less," he informed her, hands skating up her sides to her breasts.
"Wouldn't want to bruise your cute ass--" Kara let out a sound she refused to acknowledge as being quite so desperate or breathy, and pressed into his hands.
Two weeks (and nine months, and one week before that), and she was a little scared at how fast he read her body. He didn't always get it right--but Kara liked sex, liked the way Sam liked sex, too--and he was more often hit than miss. Maybe it was just his training as a pyramid player, something that made him concentrate, even when he was so drunk he didn't seem to have any control over anything else.
"My ass is only bruised because you broke the table," he mocked, breathless beneath her.
"Shut up, Sam," Kara suggested.
He laughed up at her, then the sound broke off on a moan as she did that thing with her hips that she knew drove him insane.
She was learning him fast, too.
Afterwards, when she'd moved them to her rack and he'd gone (naked) to retrieve her boots and she was wearing his shirt and he was in nothing but his boxers and they were almost asleep, Kara poked him.
"What?"
The sex was damned fabulous. Kara figured that was why she didn't kick him out of her rack or life. He'd probably love living on New Caprica, big nature boy like him. She yawned and propped herself up on one hand. "What'd you name 'em?"
"Huh?" Sex and alcohol had clearly taken their toll on him. His eyes were fuzzy as he stared at her.
"My tits, asshole. What'd you name 'em?"
"Brat." He yawned, closing his eyes. "It's stupid."
"I could tell everyone about Daisy." It wasn't really an empty threat, either. Kara figured she might get drunk enough to joke about Daisy a time or two before he got to be an old fling. He'd move on and she'd move on, and she'd miss the sex a lot.
"Go ahead." He challenged, not sounding worried about the entire fleet finding out his dick was named Daisy.
Kara shoved him a little, but kept him from climbing over when he started to get up. "C'mon, Sam. They're my breasts. I deserve to know." So she could hold it over him forever and laugh herself sick. And maybe feel a bit pissed at him claiming parts of her anatomy. She'd have to decide about the latter.
"Fine, fine. If I tell you can I go to sleep, Kara?"
He sounded like a cranky two-year-old, and Kara couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. She bit his shoulder--lightly--and nodded.
"Ow." He glared with one eye open and then closed it. "It's stupid."
"You said that already."
"Just warnin' you."
He paused for so long she was about to punch him to get him to say something when he said, voice soft, "Star and Buck."
Kara stared at him, then snorted, "You're right. That is frakkin' dumb, Sam."
"I said I named 'em, I didn't say I was brilliant about it." He patted her shoulder and tugged her closer.
"Really not brilliant," she muttered, knowing she should kick him out now. Rules were, he wasn't really supposed to stay overnight. But the Admiral had always been a soft-touch, and with the President ordering the settlement on New Caprica, Kara figured she'd get away with bending the rules a lot more now. The infractions had earned her a glare and a lecture from Colonel Tigh.
She convinced herself it was just going to be one more night every time he stayed in her rack.
Really. She should kick him out some morning, take her dog tag and let him go. He'd probably be a lot happier without someone like her to weight him down.
Of course, he was really hot, and could almost keep up with her. She might have to keep him around for a while. In the morning, she'd get put on report and have to speak to Colonel Tigh, who would give her that grumpy yet oddly disturbed look, and that would make her day. Because rattling Tigh was totally worth the sex and the sleeping too close to her and stealing all of the blankets.
Kara fell asleep, the sound of Sam's snores chasing her into her dreams.
-f-
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