![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
ficlet: Kara/Sam/Leoben, untitled, PG
Mostly. Set post-Revelations. (and suddenly, I know why there's [apparently] domestic-y Kara/Sam/Leoben. Because anything else takes too long)
Kara's sprawled with her head in Sam's lap and her feet in Leoben's. She thinks she's drunk. She thinks a lot of things about how she isn't human and neither are the two Cylons she's sprawled across, but she doesn't bother to articulate it. They don't need to hear it and saying it will just piss her off. Or maybe scare the frak out of her.
Absently, Sam's fingers are stroking through her hair--he's more drunk than she is, always has been a frakking light-weight. She can't tell about Leoben. Frakking Cylon doesn't show much of anything, with his head tipped back and eyes gazing up at the stars.
"Hey," Sam tugs at her the ends of her hair. His voice is a little slurred, and he's a little slow as he articulates his question, "Anymore ambrosia?"
"Sammy." Not moving, not really, Kara arches her back a little, as his nails press into her scalp. Even drunk off his ass, he's still good at this. "Ain't been ambrosia since I rescued your ass from Caprica."
"Oh." that takes him a moment to process and then he tips his head down to sorta leer at her. "Hey, baby."
"You're drunk."
He grins, "So are you."
"I'm not, if anyone cares." murmurs Leoben.
The mood isn't spoiled, and it doesn't stop. It just shifts slightly. Kara tilts her own head to stare at the Cylon at her feet. "You could be useful."
Leoben doesn't raise his eyebrows--he's too contained for that. But he gives the impression of asking how, with a sardonic look that says whatever she suggests will be met with mockery.
"My feet," Kara informs him, wiggling them in his lap, being sure to press the heels of her boots down against sensitive flesh, "hurt."
"You want me to cut them off?"
"No, dumbass, I want a massage." with a roll of her eyes and neck, Kara looks back up at Sam, "He's a Cylon, doesn't he come with good hands like you?"
Like it's not a stupid thing to say. Sam's still prickly about being a Cylon. He stiffens and glares at Leoben, like it's his fault.
And maybe it is.
Kara shifts and prods Leoben again. "Boots off. Hands to be making with the rubbing."
Which is a perfectly ridiculous thing to be saying to the Cylon you'd once killed a lot. Not that Kara cares over-much for the definitions of reality and logic at the best of times.
There's a sound from Leoben and then he starts pulling Kara's boots off. It wasn't a sigh and it wasn't a curse. Kara was too drunk to really place it and stopped caring about it an instant later.
"Hey, look," Sam says, his voice delighted as he leans sideways and snags something from the ground, "There's still more ambrosia."
Kara doesn't bother contradicting him. He'll figure it out when he gulps and kills the lining in his throat. Chief still made excellent rotgut, it was just a pity this wasn't his.
-f-
Kara's sprawled with her head in Sam's lap and her feet in Leoben's. She thinks she's drunk. She thinks a lot of things about how she isn't human and neither are the two Cylons she's sprawled across, but she doesn't bother to articulate it. They don't need to hear it and saying it will just piss her off. Or maybe scare the frak out of her.
Absently, Sam's fingers are stroking through her hair--he's more drunk than she is, always has been a frakking light-weight. She can't tell about Leoben. Frakking Cylon doesn't show much of anything, with his head tipped back and eyes gazing up at the stars.
"Hey," Sam tugs at her the ends of her hair. His voice is a little slurred, and he's a little slow as he articulates his question, "Anymore ambrosia?"
"Sammy." Not moving, not really, Kara arches her back a little, as his nails press into her scalp. Even drunk off his ass, he's still good at this. "Ain't been ambrosia since I rescued your ass from Caprica."
"Oh." that takes him a moment to process and then he tips his head down to sorta leer at her. "Hey, baby."
"You're drunk."
He grins, "So are you."
"I'm not, if anyone cares." murmurs Leoben.
The mood isn't spoiled, and it doesn't stop. It just shifts slightly. Kara tilts her own head to stare at the Cylon at her feet. "You could be useful."
Leoben doesn't raise his eyebrows--he's too contained for that. But he gives the impression of asking how, with a sardonic look that says whatever she suggests will be met with mockery.
"My feet," Kara informs him, wiggling them in his lap, being sure to press the heels of her boots down against sensitive flesh, "hurt."
"You want me to cut them off?"
"No, dumbass, I want a massage." with a roll of her eyes and neck, Kara looks back up at Sam, "He's a Cylon, doesn't he come with good hands like you?"
Like it's not a stupid thing to say. Sam's still prickly about being a Cylon. He stiffens and glares at Leoben, like it's his fault.
And maybe it is.
Kara shifts and prods Leoben again. "Boots off. Hands to be making with the rubbing."
Which is a perfectly ridiculous thing to be saying to the Cylon you'd once killed a lot. Not that Kara cares over-much for the definitions of reality and logic at the best of times.
There's a sound from Leoben and then he starts pulling Kara's boots off. It wasn't a sigh and it wasn't a curse. Kara was too drunk to really place it and stopped caring about it an instant later.
"Hey, look," Sam says, his voice delighted as he leans sideways and snags something from the ground, "There's still more ambrosia."
Kara doesn't bother contradicting him. He'll figure it out when he gulps and kills the lining in his throat. Chief still made excellent rotgut, it was just a pity this wasn't his.
-f-
no subject