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Entry tags:
fic: BSG, Grasping for an Anchor, R/NC17, Kara/Sam
disclaimer: not mine
pairing: Kara/Sam
set: post-Islanded in a Stream of Stars
rating: R/NC17, sex, language, slight dubious consent
length: 2700+
notes: I was in the middle of this on Sunday when I took up the pinch-hits, and it was a little harder to get back to it than I'd thought it would be. That said, I'd once again like to thank the crazy people and Ron for giving me this opportunity.I am now going to hide in a corner, omg
Grasping for an Anchor
by ALC Punk!
"New command," Sam says.
Kara watches the way he blinks, like a human clearing their eyes of sleep. As though the lights are on, but nobody's home. He puffs out another breath and she expects him to turn his head. She expects to hear him echo the other hybrids (again). You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace...
But he doesn't speak.
All those things she'd said to him before come flooding back, all her uncertainty over who they are seems pointless and she slumps a little before remembering why she's there.
"We're going through this song, Sam." She clears her throat, wondering what the intelligence in there will make of her words.
Blink.
Kara starts humming, the tune not quite right for a moment. As always, she wonders if there are words to the music. It takes her a moment to realize Sam is humming along, eyes shifting oddly, mouth moving.
For a moment, she remembers her father. But this isn't about him anymore, this is about something else, maybe. Someone else. Hera (and Kara feels her gut clench, remembering Athena's look of utter loss). The song might not help find Hera, but it might solve something else.
Not that Kara has a frakking clue what that could be.
"...can't get no relief..." Sam whispers, the words matching the melody.
Kara shifts, leaning closer, humming louder.
"...must be some way..."
Unconsciously, she reaches out to touch his shoulder, brushing her fingers down his skin.
The light flickers, and Kara draws breath to continue the song and the room shifts.
Eyes wide, Kara stares around the pilot bunkroom, the light stark and white. This is wrong. This is not--
"Kara?"
Sam. She spins and he's there, staring at her, moving almost faster than her eye can follow, his hands closing on her shoulders.
They're wrapped around each other, his mouth on hers before she wrenches back, spinning back into reality with a gasp.
The hybrid is staring at her, eyes wide.
"What the frak--?"
"Noun. Verb. Adjective." The hybrid pauses, body shuddering, "...sing...."
"Don't sing, Sammy," she mumbles, before sucking in a breath and licking dry lips. "No words..." She starts humming again, leaning closer, hand on the edge of the tank. There is no way in hell she understands what just happened, or what could happen, but it doesn't matter. She's said they would find out what the frak this meant and maybe they will.
The hybrid moves, hand latching onto hers and the room spins away again.
Sam's got his hands on her hips, lifting her up onto the table. Kara's hands tear at his tanks, pushing them up and out of the way. She feels violent, nails raking down the exposed skin and they both gasp before Sam bends, mouth sucking at her neck and shoulder.
This is not reality, she wants to say, but he feels good. Alive and whole and there. "Sam."
His hands shove up, tangle in her hair and he growls a little.
"Stop--" she grabs at his shoulders, hating herself for pushing him away. She wants to pull him down, fall back against the table and feel him thrust in hard and deep--but there's something wrong. "Sam."
"Kara."
The word breaks her free of the bunkroom and she surfaces in reality to find that she's moved, half-bent over the tank, hand tangled with the hybrid's. With Sam's.
"Sam." She stares, that physical connection that always existed sliding down her spine. Aware of him as more than a body in a tank, something twists in her gut.
He stares back for an instant before he's gone again, pupils contracting.
They're both tinged in shades of red and white, and Kara turns away, moving the papers to where they won't get wet. For an instant, she brushes her hand over the cable that links Sam into the neural net. Then she moves back, bending over him, not giving herself time to think--
Her mouth brushes his--
"This is crazy," she hisses, grabbing his hands and dragging them behind her back before moaning as his mouth attacks her shoulder. "Don't talk, Sam. Frak--" She growls as his mouth closes on a nipple, teeth hard against her skin.
Everything feels hyper-real. Sam's hands, Sam's mouth, his fingers as he drags them down her hips, hooking her pants and underwear off. The metal of the table is cold under her ass, but she doesn't care, laughing a little as he gets stuck, staring at her, his eyes wide.
For a moment, she's still bending over the tank, mouth against Sam's, then that reality is gone again--
Sam is sliding between her legs, chuckling huskily at the sounds she's making.
"Asshole--" she grabs for his shoulders, pulling him back against her. His hands slide between them, teasing her for a moment before he shifts and thrusts inwards.
They both shudder.
The hybrid kisses her back, hand coming up to stroke the side of her face. Like Sam used to. Like he is in that not-reality for the moment.
Kara jerks back from both, standing up straight and panting, staring at the hybrid.
"...need you..." The cadence is Sam's, the look in his eyes...
"This is frakked up--" Kara stalks away, to the hatch. She doesn't care about that stupid song. Not now, not when--what the frak is she thinking? What the frak is going on?
The hybrid hums again, the song disjointed now.
Forehead against the hatch, Kara closes her eyes, the cold metal giving her a moment. Her fingers close on the wheel, spinning it 'till it locks closed.
The hybrid has started talking again, details of ship schematics or something. Kara tries not listen to the way it deadens Sam's voice, but she can't escape it. Her hands are shaking when she leans back over the tank. "There was a song. We were humming. Do you remember?"
"...tonal shifts cause changes in texture..."
Kara smacks her hand against his shoulder, annoyed with them both. "Come on, Sam. Humming, singing. This stupid--"
"--song," she gasps, hands stroking up his back as he presses her down against the table.
Reality. Kara pushes her fingers through her hair, trying to figure out what the frak she is thinking. She bites her lip, then moves, stroking her hand down his chest and keeping a hold on reality. The liquid he's suspended in is warm, making his skin slick and coating her arm as she goes further. She stops, fingers on his thigh, then bumps him with her knuckles--
"Frak," she hisses, trying to decide if she's shocked at how hard he is against her hand.
The bunkroom pulls at her, Sam's lips brushing up the side of her neck as he moves within her (slower, now, less frenzied as though he's trying to draw it out for some reason), "Kara, please..."
"Gods." She snatches her hand out of the liquid and wipes it down the side of her pants, then swallows. Shit.
She strips before she can think again, shirts up and off, pants and boots a moment later--there's a towel they must have used early on in their set-up and she drops it on top of her clothing. For a moment, she stares at him in the tank. Then she licks her lips and moves the stool, climbing up and over, clambering awkwardly into the tank with him. The liquid sloshes up over the edges as she lowers herself, keeping reality closed around her until there's no danger of falling out.
The bunkroom is cold, colder than it should be and the metal at her back is making her shiver even as Sam presses down on her, his chest warm against hers.
Kara blindly bends, trapped in two places at once, mouth seeking Sam's.
There's a difference. On top of him, underneath him, hands on her hips, hands not touching her--
She slides down onto him, a little shocked at how much she wants this, even as some part of her feels horror at what should be a violation.
It feels too quick and too slow and Kara cries out before he does, mouth losing his as she pushes up, arching and grinding down against him.
Sam's hands wrap over her hips.
Cold air at her back mimics the cold steel of the table and she falls forward again, kissing him, tongue licking inside his mouth. He'd always liked that, and he doesn't disappoint her, this time, body heaving up against hers, fingers digging into her skin.
"Kara," he says against her throat, body limp against hers.
"I'm here." The bunkroom solidifies again. "What the frak is going on, Sam?"
The hybrid's hands slide up her back, pulling her down against him.
Red and white pattern their skin. Kara pushes up a little, staring down at those blue eyes that haunted her dreams until she went back to Caprica for him. "Sam."
"Hey." A breath raises his chest up against her, and he tries to smile and fails.
"The song," she whispers, "We have to--"
"I know where Hera is, Kara, I don't--" he shivers, hands clutching at her shoulders, "--don't know how long I can--"
The bunkroom slides around them again, "--keep this up."
"Always could keep it up pretty good, Sammy." It's an old taunt, but it feels wrong in the here and now. "Stay with me, you idiot."
"Trying," he murmurs, "So much information. Kara, I can find Hera, I can find the new colony, I can--" he groans.
"Stay with me, Sam. C'mon." She touches his face, kissing his mouth again.
"Kara," the bunkroom shifts around them and he slowly pulls away from her, standing up with a wince. She pushes up onto her elbows, watching him pull his pants up from around his ankles, "I don't want to stay like that. When we get Hera back, I want you to promise me--"
His eyes bore into her, and she flinches a little, brushing her fingers along the top of his skull, "Miss your hair, Sammy."
The body beneath her twitches, shifts, and Sam's hands slide between them, fingers brushing her breasts. The song is the key, Kara. Gods--" His back arches and she finds her hands flying to the sides, keeping her pressed down against him as he fades out and then back in, "--a million pinpoints in the sky at night. End of line."
"Stay with me, Sam," She grounds them, keeping them right here, in reality. "Stay with me. This song, Hera, we have to figure it all out."
"I wrote it--" Hands tighten on her sides, his fingers digging in right behind her ribs.
Kara figures she'll have bruises, but doesn't care. "You wrote the song? When?"
"Earth. On Earth." His eyes flicker and he pants, obviously fighting something. The red lights from the datastream pattern across his face for an instant, then are gone. "I taught it to Daniel."
"Daniel. The Cylon that is missing, the one Cavil--"
"Yes," voice hissing, he drags one hand up, cups the back of her head and pulls her mouth down to his.
He pulls her off the table, dancing them back towards one of the racks. Kara spins them at the last minute, shoving him up against a locker and pushing up, kissing him so hard he yelps a little.
She remembers this now, remembers where this comes from. The bottles on the table, the glass dropped on the floor when he'd stood up earlier--after Lee left, with her on his lap and the ambrosia buzzing through both of them, the harsh bite eating the back of her mouth until he'd distracted her--
"You have to stay," she murmurs against his mouth.
"Don't know if I can," he replies in both places, though it's more reality than bunkroom when he brushes his hand along the side of her face.
"Figure it out, Sammy," her hands link behind his head and she leans her forehead against his. The bunkroom slides away, leaving them sitting in a tank full of goo.
"Ok," breath shudders out of him and he tightens his grip on her hips again. "Ok. Ok, I can--" a spasm shivers through him. "Stupid datastream."
"If I disconnect you?"
"No! I don't think--" sliding his hands up, he cups her face. "I don't know if that will help or just send me back--"
Hungry, aching, she arches beneath him on the rack they chose--
"No. Here." Kara doesn't know what their shared hallucination is, and doesn't care. Not yet. "How will we find Hera?"
"By finding John--Cavil." His eyes close for a moment and he relaxes a little. "Boomer's jump, it left... it left eddies in space. If I could follow them--"
"You can't jump Galactica," she interrupts.
A smirk crosses his lips, "That a dare, Kara?"
"She's falling apart. Structurally unsound," her head tilts and she looks at him, "Or do you know something I don't?"
He could. There's so much data in his brain right now, Kara figures he might actually know ten thousand things more than she does. She shivers, wondering if he'll always be stuck in this tank, wondering if there's a possibility he might survive--they might survive.
What am I? a question she no longer really cares about.
Sam suddenly starts laughing, the sound rolling through the room, vibrating through her skin.
"What the frak?"
"I'd known--" he tries to catch his breath and fails.
Kara smacks his shoulder, "Sam!"
"I'd known this'd be what it'd take to get you naked in a vat of goo," he manages before his laughter drags his breath away again.
"Gods." Kara tries not to find it funny, but, frak, she's naked in a vat of goo, straddling her Cylon-hybridized husband. It is funny. A snicker escapes her. She hasn't had a lot to laugh about in a long time. She thumps his shoulder, then starts giggling, unable to help herself. His hilarity is catching (it always was).
"This is me," Sam murmurs. "This is me."
"You're not going to start bursting into hybrid-speak, are you, Sammy?"
"No." Reaching out, he pokes her nose. "No, I think. I think I'm good, for the moment."
There is something like fear in his eyes, but she doesn't press. Not yet. Still feeling her way around, she nods, "All right. How do we follow Boomer without jumping?"
He leers at her, "Not that I really mind, but you might want to put some clothes on."
"Boomer, Sam."
"Adama's on his way down the corridor to find out what the frak we're doing. You wanna greet him naked?"
She frowns. "What have we been doing, Sam?"
"Kara, if I have to explain the mechanics of sex to you--"
Snorting, she leans down and kisses him, "You gonna be able to focus without me?"
"I'll manage."
She climbs out of the tank, feeling sore and a little strange. Catching up the towel, she dries off as best she can before quickly getting back into her clothes. She's tucking her shirts in when someone kicks the hatch.
"Kara."
His hand reaches out for hers, and she takes it, linking their fingers for an instant--
The bunkroom is quiet, all of the others still gone. Kara lies tangled in Sam, his mouth brushing absently against her shoulder. "You can always find me here. If I'm not, if I slip..."
"Sam." She pushes up, enjoying the way he responds to her, even now they're exhausted. Her mouth brushes his. "You're stronger than that. You'll be fine. Trust me."
"I do," he whispers, hand releasing hers.
Kara pats his shoulder and heads towards the hatch as the pounding gets louder. "Ready to face the Admiral, baby?"
"Anytime, sweetheart."
-f-
pairing: Kara/Sam
set: post-Islanded in a Stream of Stars
rating: R/NC17, sex, language, slight dubious consent
length: 2700+
notes: I was in the middle of this on Sunday when I took up the pinch-hits, and it was a little harder to get back to it than I'd thought it would be. That said, I'd once again like to thank the crazy people and Ron for giving me this opportunity.
Grasping for an Anchor
by ALC Punk!
"New command," Sam says.
Kara watches the way he blinks, like a human clearing their eyes of sleep. As though the lights are on, but nobody's home. He puffs out another breath and she expects him to turn his head. She expects to hear him echo the other hybrids (again). You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace...
But he doesn't speak.
All those things she'd said to him before come flooding back, all her uncertainty over who they are seems pointless and she slumps a little before remembering why she's there.
"We're going through this song, Sam." She clears her throat, wondering what the intelligence in there will make of her words.
Blink.
Kara starts humming, the tune not quite right for a moment. As always, she wonders if there are words to the music. It takes her a moment to realize Sam is humming along, eyes shifting oddly, mouth moving.
For a moment, she remembers her father. But this isn't about him anymore, this is about something else, maybe. Someone else. Hera (and Kara feels her gut clench, remembering Athena's look of utter loss). The song might not help find Hera, but it might solve something else.
Not that Kara has a frakking clue what that could be.
"...can't get no relief..." Sam whispers, the words matching the melody.
Kara shifts, leaning closer, humming louder.
"...must be some way..."
Unconsciously, she reaches out to touch his shoulder, brushing her fingers down his skin.
The light flickers, and Kara draws breath to continue the song and the room shifts.
Eyes wide, Kara stares around the pilot bunkroom, the light stark and white. This is wrong. This is not--
"Kara?"
Sam. She spins and he's there, staring at her, moving almost faster than her eye can follow, his hands closing on her shoulders.
They're wrapped around each other, his mouth on hers before she wrenches back, spinning back into reality with a gasp.
The hybrid is staring at her, eyes wide.
"What the frak--?"
"Noun. Verb. Adjective." The hybrid pauses, body shuddering, "...sing...."
"Don't sing, Sammy," she mumbles, before sucking in a breath and licking dry lips. "No words..." She starts humming again, leaning closer, hand on the edge of the tank. There is no way in hell she understands what just happened, or what could happen, but it doesn't matter. She's said they would find out what the frak this meant and maybe they will.
The hybrid moves, hand latching onto hers and the room spins away again.
Sam's got his hands on her hips, lifting her up onto the table. Kara's hands tear at his tanks, pushing them up and out of the way. She feels violent, nails raking down the exposed skin and they both gasp before Sam bends, mouth sucking at her neck and shoulder.
This is not reality, she wants to say, but he feels good. Alive and whole and there. "Sam."
His hands shove up, tangle in her hair and he growls a little.
"Stop--" she grabs at his shoulders, hating herself for pushing him away. She wants to pull him down, fall back against the table and feel him thrust in hard and deep--but there's something wrong. "Sam."
"Kara."
The word breaks her free of the bunkroom and she surfaces in reality to find that she's moved, half-bent over the tank, hand tangled with the hybrid's. With Sam's.
"Sam." She stares, that physical connection that always existed sliding down her spine. Aware of him as more than a body in a tank, something twists in her gut.
He stares back for an instant before he's gone again, pupils contracting.
They're both tinged in shades of red and white, and Kara turns away, moving the papers to where they won't get wet. For an instant, she brushes her hand over the cable that links Sam into the neural net. Then she moves back, bending over him, not giving herself time to think--
Her mouth brushes his--
"This is crazy," she hisses, grabbing his hands and dragging them behind her back before moaning as his mouth attacks her shoulder. "Don't talk, Sam. Frak--" She growls as his mouth closes on a nipple, teeth hard against her skin.
Everything feels hyper-real. Sam's hands, Sam's mouth, his fingers as he drags them down her hips, hooking her pants and underwear off. The metal of the table is cold under her ass, but she doesn't care, laughing a little as he gets stuck, staring at her, his eyes wide.
For a moment, she's still bending over the tank, mouth against Sam's, then that reality is gone again--
Sam is sliding between her legs, chuckling huskily at the sounds she's making.
"Asshole--" she grabs for his shoulders, pulling him back against her. His hands slide between them, teasing her for a moment before he shifts and thrusts inwards.
They both shudder.
The hybrid kisses her back, hand coming up to stroke the side of her face. Like Sam used to. Like he is in that not-reality for the moment.
Kara jerks back from both, standing up straight and panting, staring at the hybrid.
"...need you..." The cadence is Sam's, the look in his eyes...
"This is frakked up--" Kara stalks away, to the hatch. She doesn't care about that stupid song. Not now, not when--what the frak is she thinking? What the frak is going on?
The hybrid hums again, the song disjointed now.
Forehead against the hatch, Kara closes her eyes, the cold metal giving her a moment. Her fingers close on the wheel, spinning it 'till it locks closed.
The hybrid has started talking again, details of ship schematics or something. Kara tries not listen to the way it deadens Sam's voice, but she can't escape it. Her hands are shaking when she leans back over the tank. "There was a song. We were humming. Do you remember?"
"...tonal shifts cause changes in texture..."
Kara smacks her hand against his shoulder, annoyed with them both. "Come on, Sam. Humming, singing. This stupid--"
"--song," she gasps, hands stroking up his back as he presses her down against the table.
Reality. Kara pushes her fingers through her hair, trying to figure out what the frak she is thinking. She bites her lip, then moves, stroking her hand down his chest and keeping a hold on reality. The liquid he's suspended in is warm, making his skin slick and coating her arm as she goes further. She stops, fingers on his thigh, then bumps him with her knuckles--
"Frak," she hisses, trying to decide if she's shocked at how hard he is against her hand.
The bunkroom pulls at her, Sam's lips brushing up the side of her neck as he moves within her (slower, now, less frenzied as though he's trying to draw it out for some reason), "Kara, please..."
"Gods." She snatches her hand out of the liquid and wipes it down the side of her pants, then swallows. Shit.
She strips before she can think again, shirts up and off, pants and boots a moment later--there's a towel they must have used early on in their set-up and she drops it on top of her clothing. For a moment, she stares at him in the tank. Then she licks her lips and moves the stool, climbing up and over, clambering awkwardly into the tank with him. The liquid sloshes up over the edges as she lowers herself, keeping reality closed around her until there's no danger of falling out.
The bunkroom is cold, colder than it should be and the metal at her back is making her shiver even as Sam presses down on her, his chest warm against hers.
Kara blindly bends, trapped in two places at once, mouth seeking Sam's.
There's a difference. On top of him, underneath him, hands on her hips, hands not touching her--
She slides down onto him, a little shocked at how much she wants this, even as some part of her feels horror at what should be a violation.
It feels too quick and too slow and Kara cries out before he does, mouth losing his as she pushes up, arching and grinding down against him.
Sam's hands wrap over her hips.
Cold air at her back mimics the cold steel of the table and she falls forward again, kissing him, tongue licking inside his mouth. He'd always liked that, and he doesn't disappoint her, this time, body heaving up against hers, fingers digging into her skin.
"Kara," he says against her throat, body limp against hers.
"I'm here." The bunkroom solidifies again. "What the frak is going on, Sam?"
The hybrid's hands slide up her back, pulling her down against him.
Red and white pattern their skin. Kara pushes up a little, staring down at those blue eyes that haunted her dreams until she went back to Caprica for him. "Sam."
"Hey." A breath raises his chest up against her, and he tries to smile and fails.
"The song," she whispers, "We have to--"
"I know where Hera is, Kara, I don't--" he shivers, hands clutching at her shoulders, "--don't know how long I can--"
The bunkroom slides around them again, "--keep this up."
"Always could keep it up pretty good, Sammy." It's an old taunt, but it feels wrong in the here and now. "Stay with me, you idiot."
"Trying," he murmurs, "So much information. Kara, I can find Hera, I can find the new colony, I can--" he groans.
"Stay with me, Sam. C'mon." She touches his face, kissing his mouth again.
"Kara," the bunkroom shifts around them and he slowly pulls away from her, standing up with a wince. She pushes up onto her elbows, watching him pull his pants up from around his ankles, "I don't want to stay like that. When we get Hera back, I want you to promise me--"
His eyes bore into her, and she flinches a little, brushing her fingers along the top of his skull, "Miss your hair, Sammy."
The body beneath her twitches, shifts, and Sam's hands slide between them, fingers brushing her breasts. The song is the key, Kara. Gods--" His back arches and she finds her hands flying to the sides, keeping her pressed down against him as he fades out and then back in, "--a million pinpoints in the sky at night. End of line."
"Stay with me, Sam," She grounds them, keeping them right here, in reality. "Stay with me. This song, Hera, we have to figure it all out."
"I wrote it--" Hands tighten on her sides, his fingers digging in right behind her ribs.
Kara figures she'll have bruises, but doesn't care. "You wrote the song? When?"
"Earth. On Earth." His eyes flicker and he pants, obviously fighting something. The red lights from the datastream pattern across his face for an instant, then are gone. "I taught it to Daniel."
"Daniel. The Cylon that is missing, the one Cavil--"
"Yes," voice hissing, he drags one hand up, cups the back of her head and pulls her mouth down to his.
He pulls her off the table, dancing them back towards one of the racks. Kara spins them at the last minute, shoving him up against a locker and pushing up, kissing him so hard he yelps a little.
She remembers this now, remembers where this comes from. The bottles on the table, the glass dropped on the floor when he'd stood up earlier--after Lee left, with her on his lap and the ambrosia buzzing through both of them, the harsh bite eating the back of her mouth until he'd distracted her--
"You have to stay," she murmurs against his mouth.
"Don't know if I can," he replies in both places, though it's more reality than bunkroom when he brushes his hand along the side of her face.
"Figure it out, Sammy," her hands link behind his head and she leans her forehead against his. The bunkroom slides away, leaving them sitting in a tank full of goo.
"Ok," breath shudders out of him and he tightens his grip on her hips again. "Ok. Ok, I can--" a spasm shivers through him. "Stupid datastream."
"If I disconnect you?"
"No! I don't think--" sliding his hands up, he cups her face. "I don't know if that will help or just send me back--"
Hungry, aching, she arches beneath him on the rack they chose--
"No. Here." Kara doesn't know what their shared hallucination is, and doesn't care. Not yet. "How will we find Hera?"
"By finding John--Cavil." His eyes close for a moment and he relaxes a little. "Boomer's jump, it left... it left eddies in space. If I could follow them--"
"You can't jump Galactica," she interrupts.
A smirk crosses his lips, "That a dare, Kara?"
"She's falling apart. Structurally unsound," her head tilts and she looks at him, "Or do you know something I don't?"
He could. There's so much data in his brain right now, Kara figures he might actually know ten thousand things more than she does. She shivers, wondering if he'll always be stuck in this tank, wondering if there's a possibility he might survive--they might survive.
What am I? a question she no longer really cares about.
Sam suddenly starts laughing, the sound rolling through the room, vibrating through her skin.
"What the frak?"
"I'd known--" he tries to catch his breath and fails.
Kara smacks his shoulder, "Sam!"
"I'd known this'd be what it'd take to get you naked in a vat of goo," he manages before his laughter drags his breath away again.
"Gods." Kara tries not to find it funny, but, frak, she's naked in a vat of goo, straddling her Cylon-hybridized husband. It is funny. A snicker escapes her. She hasn't had a lot to laugh about in a long time. She thumps his shoulder, then starts giggling, unable to help herself. His hilarity is catching (it always was).
"This is me," Sam murmurs. "This is me."
"You're not going to start bursting into hybrid-speak, are you, Sammy?"
"No." Reaching out, he pokes her nose. "No, I think. I think I'm good, for the moment."
There is something like fear in his eyes, but she doesn't press. Not yet. Still feeling her way around, she nods, "All right. How do we follow Boomer without jumping?"
He leers at her, "Not that I really mind, but you might want to put some clothes on."
"Boomer, Sam."
"Adama's on his way down the corridor to find out what the frak we're doing. You wanna greet him naked?"
She frowns. "What have we been doing, Sam?"
"Kara, if I have to explain the mechanics of sex to you--"
Snorting, she leans down and kisses him, "You gonna be able to focus without me?"
"I'll manage."
She climbs out of the tank, feeling sore and a little strange. Catching up the towel, she dries off as best she can before quickly getting back into her clothes. She's tucking her shirts in when someone kicks the hatch.
"Kara."
His hand reaches out for hers, and she takes it, linking their fingers for an instant--
The bunkroom is quiet, all of the others still gone. Kara lies tangled in Sam, his mouth brushing absently against her shoulder. "You can always find me here. If I'm not, if I slip..."
"Sam." She pushes up, enjoying the way he responds to her, even now they're exhausted. Her mouth brushes his. "You're stronger than that. You'll be fine. Trust me."
"I do," he whispers, hand releasing hers.
Kara pats his shoulder and heads towards the hatch as the pounding gets louder. "Ready to face the Admiral, baby?"
"Anytime, sweetheart."
-f-
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Er, and that was may more rambling than you probably wanted to know.
ahem. Thank you =)
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Guh.
(And great story Lyssie, I will definitely let you write my "canon" for me.)
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*snugs* I want this, too.
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This is perfection!
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Thank you =)
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If they would do it like this in canon...the projection and Sam actually being coherent, I might be able to handle it and not have random fits of rage when I think about where this show has gone.
Loved it, as usual.
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Yeah, the part where it's obviously not Sam is what makes me cranky. If there were any indication he were still in there, as himself... I could believe we'd get him back.
Thank you =)
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I actually don't object to the Hybrid!Sam thing, because it's so appropriate for terrible things to happen to the couples on this show. Poor Sam.
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Thank you =)
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I really, sort of pathetically, WANT Kara's connection to Sam be what brings him out of it all. It would be nice.
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*slow clap*
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Thank you, though.
pls let him wake up, Ronno subject
Yeah, mostly I don't. Stupid Sam love/fear is making me read almost anything in an attempt to be ready for whatever the show might bring. I even read
This theory of better mental preparation isn't actually working out in practice. I was still in massive denial (about Sam's hybrid state) before the last episode, even though I'd watched the preview.
*uses grumpy icon to express grumpy feelings*