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Entry tags:
ficlet, bsg, Further Adventures in Yet Another Incident in Interspecies Relations, PG, Kara/Sam
Further Adventures in Yet Another Incident in Interspecies Relations
Spoilers: webisode 2.
notes: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
palmetto
This picks up pretty much where the other left off.
Kara banged her head on the shelf when the alarm sounded, jerking free of Sam an instant later. For his part, Sam was a little disoriented, though he tried to help her stand on her own before scrambling for his boxers and flight suit.
"Frak, frak--" Kara was trying to get her underwear up, but it was twisted around her leg the wrong way, "Gods-dammit, Sammy--"
"All hands, brace for jump."
"Here," he got his hips covered and moved to help her, hands skimming down her legs to straighten out the offending garment. It almost made him laugh, that he was dressing her when two seconds ago, they'd been--
"Flight deck," Kara growled, shoving at him as she got her pants back on over her boots.
Sam dragged his shirts on and got his arms into his flight suit as she exited from the locker at a pace slightly slower than an emergency run. Her tag jingled against the ring next to it as she jogged ahead of him.
With the jump accomplished, there would be little either of them could do, but Sam felt a little like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Of all the things to be doing when the Cylons showed up--!
Dragging the zipper the rest of the way up, Sam took the corner behind Kara too fast and almost knocked her over when she skidded to a stop to avoid the double-file of marines headed the other direction. "Where's the fire, sergeant?"
"None yet, sir--"
"Pass the word for Captain Thrace to report to CIC."
"That's me."
"Hey," Sam grabbed her before she could go, ducking and catching her lips for two seconds. And then they were separating, Sam continuing down to the flight deck. Despite having run a double-CAP, he could still be useful. He was on his feet and breathing, after all.
Kara swore again and headed for CIC as she tugged her tunic on over her shirts and tried to get halfway presentable.
If she didn't, Tigh would probably twit her about hairs out of place for two weeks. The bastard liked finding fault with her, since he couldn't kick her off of being CAG anymore than she could knock him out of being XO on account of his Cylon-ness.
-*-
Six hours went by before the sensor readings confirmed what Adama had begun to suspect when they'd arrived on the other side of the emergency jump: the Cylon detection had been a radiation echo from their personal base-ship, her drives still not back to one hundred-percent.
Once a raider carrying a joint team of humans and cylons had double-checked, the fleet jumped back. After all, there was a missing raptor to wait for. And while they could have continued on, there was still some hope that Earth or a planet nearby would be viable enough for their needs. Too, they still needed to raid the asteroid fields for minerals and tyllium.
-*-
Kara was tired from dealing with Tigh, pilots, and the half-dozen supply issues that had cropped up around viper repair. Some of that was Laird's bailiwick, but the man wasn't as efficient as Tyrol had been at finding scrap, though he was getting better. She'd had to trade a box of New Caprican cigars to get this latest shipment secured. If she hadn't wanted her pilots safe out there, she might not have done it.
Slumping onto her rack, she stared blearily at the stack of paper she'd left on the desk in her makeshift quarters. It hadn't moved, but it had multiplied. A groan escaped her and she bent forward, elbows on her knees. Gods, if she could just airlock that shit...
The hatch clanged as someone knocked.
"Go away," Kara muttered.
The knock came again, followed by a tentative, "Kara?"
Gods. Sam. He should have been in bed by now. Kara knew he had a CAP in five hours. She rubbed her hands over her face, then moved to open the hatch. He was standing, wearing nothing but his sweats and sweating as though he'd been running. He probably had. As an Ensign, he had time for shit like that. Kara bitterly missed her morning runs.
Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended, "What?"
"Hot Dog said he'd seen you come back to quarters." Sam shrugged, eyes not giving anything away, "Just thought I'd check on you."
"Bullshit," Kara growled, fingers tightening on the hatch. "You just came to see if you could get in a frak--"
"Oh, please, if that's what I'd wanted, I wouldn't have bothered coming to you!"
Kara's knuckles whitened. "Your concern is noted, Ensign. Now go the frak away."
"That an order, sir?"
"Yeah." Kara stepped back and swung the hatch closed, almost slamming it with a loud clang. Gods. She turned away and headed for her rack, not bothering to check her paperwork. Frak it. She could deal with the beaurocratic shit in the morning. She needed to sleep.
On the other side of the hatch, Sam drew in a breath then let it out, his skin twitching as he turned away. He just needed to run some more. Then he'd be tired enough to sleep and the nightmare he'd woken from wouldn't return until the next time he slept alone. His cadence quick, he started counting steps, determined to reach ten thousand before the night was out.
-f?
Spoilers: webisode 2.
notes: for
palmettoThis picks up pretty much where the other left off.
Kara banged her head on the shelf when the alarm sounded, jerking free of Sam an instant later. For his part, Sam was a little disoriented, though he tried to help her stand on her own before scrambling for his boxers and flight suit.
"Frak, frak--" Kara was trying to get her underwear up, but it was twisted around her leg the wrong way, "Gods-dammit, Sammy--"
"All hands, brace for jump."
"Here," he got his hips covered and moved to help her, hands skimming down her legs to straighten out the offending garment. It almost made him laugh, that he was dressing her when two seconds ago, they'd been--
"Flight deck," Kara growled, shoving at him as she got her pants back on over her boots.
Sam dragged his shirts on and got his arms into his flight suit as she exited from the locker at a pace slightly slower than an emergency run. Her tag jingled against the ring next to it as she jogged ahead of him.
With the jump accomplished, there would be little either of them could do, but Sam felt a little like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Of all the things to be doing when the Cylons showed up--!
Dragging the zipper the rest of the way up, Sam took the corner behind Kara too fast and almost knocked her over when she skidded to a stop to avoid the double-file of marines headed the other direction. "Where's the fire, sergeant?"
"None yet, sir--"
"Pass the word for Captain Thrace to report to CIC."
"That's me."
"Hey," Sam grabbed her before she could go, ducking and catching her lips for two seconds. And then they were separating, Sam continuing down to the flight deck. Despite having run a double-CAP, he could still be useful. He was on his feet and breathing, after all.
Kara swore again and headed for CIC as she tugged her tunic on over her shirts and tried to get halfway presentable.
If she didn't, Tigh would probably twit her about hairs out of place for two weeks. The bastard liked finding fault with her, since he couldn't kick her off of being CAG anymore than she could knock him out of being XO on account of his Cylon-ness.
-*-
Six hours went by before the sensor readings confirmed what Adama had begun to suspect when they'd arrived on the other side of the emergency jump: the Cylon detection had been a radiation echo from their personal base-ship, her drives still not back to one hundred-percent.
Once a raider carrying a joint team of humans and cylons had double-checked, the fleet jumped back. After all, there was a missing raptor to wait for. And while they could have continued on, there was still some hope that Earth or a planet nearby would be viable enough for their needs. Too, they still needed to raid the asteroid fields for minerals and tyllium.
-*-
Kara was tired from dealing with Tigh, pilots, and the half-dozen supply issues that had cropped up around viper repair. Some of that was Laird's bailiwick, but the man wasn't as efficient as Tyrol had been at finding scrap, though he was getting better. She'd had to trade a box of New Caprican cigars to get this latest shipment secured. If she hadn't wanted her pilots safe out there, she might not have done it.
Slumping onto her rack, she stared blearily at the stack of paper she'd left on the desk in her makeshift quarters. It hadn't moved, but it had multiplied. A groan escaped her and she bent forward, elbows on her knees. Gods, if she could just airlock that shit...
The hatch clanged as someone knocked.
"Go away," Kara muttered.
The knock came again, followed by a tentative, "Kara?"
Gods. Sam. He should have been in bed by now. Kara knew he had a CAP in five hours. She rubbed her hands over her face, then moved to open the hatch. He was standing, wearing nothing but his sweats and sweating as though he'd been running. He probably had. As an Ensign, he had time for shit like that. Kara bitterly missed her morning runs.
Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended, "What?"
"Hot Dog said he'd seen you come back to quarters." Sam shrugged, eyes not giving anything away, "Just thought I'd check on you."
"Bullshit," Kara growled, fingers tightening on the hatch. "You just came to see if you could get in a frak--"
"Oh, please, if that's what I'd wanted, I wouldn't have bothered coming to you!"
Kara's knuckles whitened. "Your concern is noted, Ensign. Now go the frak away."
"That an order, sir?"
"Yeah." Kara stepped back and swung the hatch closed, almost slamming it with a loud clang. Gods. She turned away and headed for her rack, not bothering to check her paperwork. Frak it. She could deal with the beaurocratic shit in the morning. She needed to sleep.
On the other side of the hatch, Sam drew in a breath then let it out, his skin twitching as he turned away. He just needed to run some more. Then he'd be tired enough to sleep and the nightmare he'd woken from wouldn't return until the next time he slept alone. His cadence quick, he started counting steps, determined to reach ten thousand before the night was out.
-f?