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rpf ficlet: Katee Sackhoff/Tricia Helfer, PG...13?
No title, no beta, not even spellcheck. omg I should be in bed. This is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
greycoupon's fault.
not a style I normally use.
You don't say no when Tricia Helfer calls and says, "Motorcycles, leather and Milwuakee."
You could, but you don't. You're getting good at saying no to people--your agent, your mom (mostly), your dad, definitely your brother. And saying no to your boyfriend still has a new shiny quality to it that sometimes makes you grin even while he looks annoyed.
You don't say, "I'm irradiated" or "I can't be around people" or "I haven't seen my boyfriend in a month". For one thing, Tricia would call you on that last, with her eyes rolling and her lips smiling and say you've seen him, you just haven't seen him and then you'd both be giggling for no god-damned reason whatsoever.
So you don't say no when Tricia coaxingly adds, "Breweries, tours, lake front shopping--c'mon, you know you wanna."
Because she's sort of right.
You do want to.
And you don't ask her if her husband is coming or if it's ok to bring your boyfriend--Tricia understands about husbands and boyfriends. It's not like it's the first time you've done this.
Meeting up isn't as easy as it seemed and if there weren't cell reception in the bowl the museum is in, you'd have never found her. There's leather and gleaming silver and chrome everywhere. Black and tan, red and pink, and you think for a moment about having a lemon-yellow jacket or something in paisley (you've heard that's coming back into style).
You ride and Tricia rides and you watch her back (because good friends watch each other on the road), and you don't care where you end up.
It's just the two of you and lattes, iced neat. Tricia says something about the weather and you glance around.
No one is watching you. No one is looking and calling you 'Starbuck' or 'Katee' or 'Kara' or half a dozen other things that've been shouted at you over the last several years (you don't like remembering the bad ones).
Somehow you make small talk, you make Tricia laugh (and you've always made that a goal, because there's something about the way Tricia laughs that floors you and gets you somewhere that you can't explain). And when you're done with your drinks, you saunter back to the bikes.
It's not over. It's like clockwork, almost, because the next stop is the middle of nowhere (and it's Wisconsin, more than one person has assured you there's a LOT of nowhere in Wisconsin), and you're balancing your bike when Tricia leans over you.
"You needed to get out," she says, and then she's kissing you.
You're good with that; Tricia was always good at getting her message across. Her hands slides down inside your shirt, and you're suddenly thinking about the sweat on her skin and that little sound she makes when you--
She drags you off the bike and you go with the flow, hands dragging at her jacket. You're both almost giggling again when you push her up against a tree.
Milwaukee, you think later, is leather and chrome and Tricia with her skin flushed and her eyes closed.
You sort of like that, but don't think sharing with anyone is appropriate.
-f-
greycoupon's fault.not a style I normally use.
You don't say no when Tricia Helfer calls and says, "Motorcycles, leather and Milwuakee."
You could, but you don't. You're getting good at saying no to people--your agent, your mom (mostly), your dad, definitely your brother. And saying no to your boyfriend still has a new shiny quality to it that sometimes makes you grin even while he looks annoyed.
You don't say, "I'm irradiated" or "I can't be around people" or "I haven't seen my boyfriend in a month". For one thing, Tricia would call you on that last, with her eyes rolling and her lips smiling and say you've seen him, you just haven't seen him and then you'd both be giggling for no god-damned reason whatsoever.
So you don't say no when Tricia coaxingly adds, "Breweries, tours, lake front shopping--c'mon, you know you wanna."
Because she's sort of right.
You do want to.
And you don't ask her if her husband is coming or if it's ok to bring your boyfriend--Tricia understands about husbands and boyfriends. It's not like it's the first time you've done this.
Meeting up isn't as easy as it seemed and if there weren't cell reception in the bowl the museum is in, you'd have never found her. There's leather and gleaming silver and chrome everywhere. Black and tan, red and pink, and you think for a moment about having a lemon-yellow jacket or something in paisley (you've heard that's coming back into style).
You ride and Tricia rides and you watch her back (because good friends watch each other on the road), and you don't care where you end up.
It's just the two of you and lattes, iced neat. Tricia says something about the weather and you glance around.
No one is watching you. No one is looking and calling you 'Starbuck' or 'Katee' or 'Kara' or half a dozen other things that've been shouted at you over the last several years (you don't like remembering the bad ones).
Somehow you make small talk, you make Tricia laugh (and you've always made that a goal, because there's something about the way Tricia laughs that floors you and gets you somewhere that you can't explain). And when you're done with your drinks, you saunter back to the bikes.
It's not over. It's like clockwork, almost, because the next stop is the middle of nowhere (and it's Wisconsin, more than one person has assured you there's a LOT of nowhere in Wisconsin), and you're balancing your bike when Tricia leans over you.
"You needed to get out," she says, and then she's kissing you.
You're good with that; Tricia was always good at getting her message across. Her hands slides down inside your shirt, and you're suddenly thinking about the sweat on her skin and that little sound she makes when you--
She drags you off the bike and you go with the flow, hands dragging at her jacket. You're both almost giggling again when you push her up against a tree.
Milwaukee, you think later, is leather and chrome and Tricia with her skin flushed and her eyes closed.
You sort of like that, but don't think sharing with anyone is appropriate.
-f-
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Because Katee and Tricia and motorcycles and laughter and leather IS HOT.
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You're awesome. That is all.
(Also HI SONG CHOICE FTW)
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Thank you. =)
(I LOVE THAT SONG)
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