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Entry tags:
fic; newBSG: forgetting all that's been (possible repost *confused*)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: 18+ sex, violence, bad language
Pairing: Kara/Anders, Boomer/Helo, Kara/flippy ship
Set: Before and after The Farm, then somewhere around Final Cut and Flight of the Phoenix (spoilers for the latter, vaguely).
Length: 1400ish
Notes: Apparently, I finished this and then... never posted it. It contains one scene that makes the fic more AU than most fanfic (it's a scene that didn't have time to occur in The Farm)--I figure that's the reason I never posted it. (actually, if I have posted this, someone tell me?)
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ebneter, you did request smut, but, er, I'm not sure this was what you wanted.
Summary: Promises broken, promises kept, sometimes, you just need a little sex. (I never said I was a poet)
forgetting all that's been
by ALC Punk!
Starbuck's laughing again as Anders escorts her into the mess--it used to be the school cafeteria, and she has to admit (if only privately), that an abandoned high school is probably an ideal base of operations. It still means the Cylons will eventually track you, though.
"You should keep moving. A permanent base--"
"I know," Anders cuts her off with an engaging grin. "But it allows time for things. Luxuries."
"Uh-huh. Like a pyramid court."
"Yep." He's unrepentant. "And this kind of thing." They stop at a refrigeration unit and he opens the door, pulling out a bottle. "If we were moving, we wouldn't have time to make this, much less store it."
Kara yanks the bottle out of his hand and has it open in a second. A moment later she's taking her first swallow, eyes half-closed with pleasure.
"Don't drink it all at once," he teases.
"Frak you," she says, and a line of chocolate milk spills down her cheek.
"Idiot." Without thought, he leans close and licks it up, savoring the taste.
Her breath doesn't even catch as she turns away. "Got any more?"
"Lots." Anders shrugs, figures he's read her wrong.
"Good." Her hand catches the back of his shirt, "Because I'm about to work up a thirst."
"Oh," is all he manages before her tongue is in his mouth.
Later, he's leaning against the pillow, watching her dress. "Not staying, I take it?"
"Complications." She waves a hand.
He tosses her the pack of cigarettes. "I get it. Cute enough to frak, but not--"
"Don't." Is all she says, and then she's out the door, pack in one hand, her boots in the other.
"Right." He drops his head back to the pillow and sighs.
-=-
Kara wonders, as Anders strips, as she strips, if he understands why she's here, now.
His hands span her ribs and she reaches for him, drags him against her. Human contact, skin on skin, and she's sweating and shaking, but he'll think it's passion (she hopes it is).
There aren't supposed to be complications, but this is a special circumstance, and she doesn't want to think about the Cylons and what they've done to her. This is her body, and she's doing exactly what she wants with it, and damn them to hell.
Her nails scrape lines down his chest, but he doesn't notice.
And he's good. She loses most coherent thought, as he pushes against her, fingers and mouth working to break her control, but she's good, too.
She makes almost no sound as she comes, body snapping back into reality, for a moment as if everything was put together just *so* and then chaos knocks her over, and she rolls, pulling him on top of her and ignoring anything she might want to whimper as he grunts into her shoulder.
It's not perfect. It's sweaty and sticky and *real*, which is what she wanted, and afterwards, she doesn't get up immediately.
"Complications," he whispers into her skin.
"Not yet."
And for a time, they simply lie there, sweat cooling them down.
-=-
She's promised to go back for him.
He sent her off like the good little soldier she's supposed to be, and she promised to come back for him.
No complications are supposed to mean just that.
Somehow, that doesn't stop her from standing in front of Adama, trying so hard not to show how much she needs--Starbuck doesn't need anyone.
"I'm sorry, Starbuck," he says, head shaking even before she's part-way through her request.
"Sir, I told them we'd come back for them. They deserve to live just as much as those here in the Fleet already do."
He's still shaking his head. "It's a waste of resources, Kara. I'm sorry."
And that's final.
She has to bite her lip to keep from objecting again.
-=-
Brawling is easy, fighting is something she was used to doing before, and now she finds it a release of tension.
Racetrack picks a fight (again, and some might wonder if she'll ever learn), but Kara lands the first blow. There's something liberating, being able to swing and hit something (anything). The other woman recovers well and fights back. This time.
And Kara laughs and dodges, because it's the only thing she can do before tackling Racetrack to the ground and raising her fist to break that perfect nose.
"Starbuck!" Hands grab her arm, more hands latch onto her tanks, hauling her up and back and then she's being shaken by Helo and Apollo. "What the frak's gotten into you, Starbuck?"
Others are hauling Racetrack up and back.
Kara shoves at them, trying to break free, but Helo's not stupid (except when it comes to his heart, but she's not one to throw stones), and his grip tightens. "Damn, Starbuck." He shakes her as Apollo steps back. "What the frak is your problem?"
"You are." She snapped, yanking out of his grip and eyeing the distance to Racetrack.
He grabbed her again. "Don't be an idiot, Kara."
"You're the frakkin' idiot!" Elbow slamming into his sternum, she twists out of his grasp, yelling, "With your mother-henning and your gods-damned Cylon girlfriend!" She points a finger at him, "I don't need you looking after me, Karl. So stop it."
The Cylon girlfriend crack was a low blow, she admits to herself.
Helo's eyes widen, and his face twists as he looks away. "If that's the way you feel, Starbuck."
"Yeah."
"Lieutenant Thrace." Lee's cold voice cuts across them, like the crack of a whip.
Kara looks at him, sneering, "Something up, Apollo?"
"Get your ass to the brig, Lieutenant. As of now, you're under arrest and remanded to quarters for assaulting a fellow officer."
"You can't do that, Apollo." She reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. "I have CAP in twenty minutes. And you can't pull anyone off, either, because everyone's either just flown a double, or just flown. And, that," she leans closer, anger still filling her, "wouldn't be fair."
Someone in the back of the crowd applauds.
It appeals to Kara's sense of drama, and she bows, "Thank you, thank you. I'm here until I die."
Apollo sends her off to fly CAP. It's the only choice he has.
-=-
Exhaustion doesn't leave her time to think much, barely leaves her time to dream. And she's not sleeping very well, anyway (hasn't, since Zak). Kara spends half the night jerking awake to stare into the dark, wondering which nugget will die next, which viper will malfunction or explode before she can get there in time.
She's never cared about whether she survives.
During the day, it doesn't show. She's Starbuck again, flashing her smile and her cigar, and throwing one or two punches as needed.
It irks her that she slips into helping Lee plan the rosters so easily. That she buffers between over-worked pilots and flight crew alike with something approaching grace. She should be out there more, doing something other than flying pointless, routine patrols.
If the Cylons would just come close enough for her to touch...
Chief's new ship gives her something to do, something to focus on. She spends hours in it, getting less sleep than before. Learning how to make it move.
Out in the black of space, hiding from her own vipers, she thinks about how easy it would be. Just a side-step with the blackbird, and she'll be gone into nowhere, speeding back towards Caprica. It's foolish, and it would probably get her killed--but she's done what she was supposed to, she brought back the Arrow, she's fulfilled her 'destiny'.
But then one of her nuggets will say something over the comm, or she'll come around and spot a civilian ship--and Starbuck settles back, knowing that this is what she's supposed to be doing.
She made this promise, first.
-f-
Pairing: Kara/Anders, Boomer/Helo, Kara/flippy ship
Set: Before and after The Farm, then somewhere around Final Cut and Flight of the Phoenix (spoilers for the latter, vaguely).
Length: 1400ish
Notes: Apparently, I finished this and then... never posted it. It contains one scene that makes the fic more AU than most fanfic (it's a scene that didn't have time to occur in The Farm)--I figure that's the reason I never posted it. (actually, if I have posted this, someone tell me?)
Further:
ebneter, you did request smut, but, er, I'm not sure this was what you wanted.Summary: Promises broken, promises kept, sometimes, you just need a little sex. (I never said I was a poet)
forgetting all that's been
by ALC Punk!
Starbuck's laughing again as Anders escorts her into the mess--it used to be the school cafeteria, and she has to admit (if only privately), that an abandoned high school is probably an ideal base of operations. It still means the Cylons will eventually track you, though.
"You should keep moving. A permanent base--"
"I know," Anders cuts her off with an engaging grin. "But it allows time for things. Luxuries."
"Uh-huh. Like a pyramid court."
"Yep." He's unrepentant. "And this kind of thing." They stop at a refrigeration unit and he opens the door, pulling out a bottle. "If we were moving, we wouldn't have time to make this, much less store it."
Kara yanks the bottle out of his hand and has it open in a second. A moment later she's taking her first swallow, eyes half-closed with pleasure.
"Don't drink it all at once," he teases.
"Frak you," she says, and a line of chocolate milk spills down her cheek.
"Idiot." Without thought, he leans close and licks it up, savoring the taste.
Her breath doesn't even catch as she turns away. "Got any more?"
"Lots." Anders shrugs, figures he's read her wrong.
"Good." Her hand catches the back of his shirt, "Because I'm about to work up a thirst."
"Oh," is all he manages before her tongue is in his mouth.
Later, he's leaning against the pillow, watching her dress. "Not staying, I take it?"
"Complications." She waves a hand.
He tosses her the pack of cigarettes. "I get it. Cute enough to frak, but not--"
"Don't." Is all she says, and then she's out the door, pack in one hand, her boots in the other.
"Right." He drops his head back to the pillow and sighs.
-=-
Kara wonders, as Anders strips, as she strips, if he understands why she's here, now.
His hands span her ribs and she reaches for him, drags him against her. Human contact, skin on skin, and she's sweating and shaking, but he'll think it's passion (she hopes it is).
There aren't supposed to be complications, but this is a special circumstance, and she doesn't want to think about the Cylons and what they've done to her. This is her body, and she's doing exactly what she wants with it, and damn them to hell.
Her nails scrape lines down his chest, but he doesn't notice.
And he's good. She loses most coherent thought, as he pushes against her, fingers and mouth working to break her control, but she's good, too.
She makes almost no sound as she comes, body snapping back into reality, for a moment as if everything was put together just *so* and then chaos knocks her over, and she rolls, pulling him on top of her and ignoring anything she might want to whimper as he grunts into her shoulder.
It's not perfect. It's sweaty and sticky and *real*, which is what she wanted, and afterwards, she doesn't get up immediately.
"Complications," he whispers into her skin.
"Not yet."
And for a time, they simply lie there, sweat cooling them down.
-=-
She's promised to go back for him.
He sent her off like the good little soldier she's supposed to be, and she promised to come back for him.
No complications are supposed to mean just that.
Somehow, that doesn't stop her from standing in front of Adama, trying so hard not to show how much she needs--Starbuck doesn't need anyone.
"I'm sorry, Starbuck," he says, head shaking even before she's part-way through her request.
"Sir, I told them we'd come back for them. They deserve to live just as much as those here in the Fleet already do."
He's still shaking his head. "It's a waste of resources, Kara. I'm sorry."
And that's final.
She has to bite her lip to keep from objecting again.
-=-
Brawling is easy, fighting is something she was used to doing before, and now she finds it a release of tension.
Racetrack picks a fight (again, and some might wonder if she'll ever learn), but Kara lands the first blow. There's something liberating, being able to swing and hit something (anything). The other woman recovers well and fights back. This time.
And Kara laughs and dodges, because it's the only thing she can do before tackling Racetrack to the ground and raising her fist to break that perfect nose.
"Starbuck!" Hands grab her arm, more hands latch onto her tanks, hauling her up and back and then she's being shaken by Helo and Apollo. "What the frak's gotten into you, Starbuck?"
Others are hauling Racetrack up and back.
Kara shoves at them, trying to break free, but Helo's not stupid (except when it comes to his heart, but she's not one to throw stones), and his grip tightens. "Damn, Starbuck." He shakes her as Apollo steps back. "What the frak is your problem?"
"You are." She snapped, yanking out of his grip and eyeing the distance to Racetrack.
He grabbed her again. "Don't be an idiot, Kara."
"You're the frakkin' idiot!" Elbow slamming into his sternum, she twists out of his grasp, yelling, "With your mother-henning and your gods-damned Cylon girlfriend!" She points a finger at him, "I don't need you looking after me, Karl. So stop it."
The Cylon girlfriend crack was a low blow, she admits to herself.
Helo's eyes widen, and his face twists as he looks away. "If that's the way you feel, Starbuck."
"Yeah."
"Lieutenant Thrace." Lee's cold voice cuts across them, like the crack of a whip.
Kara looks at him, sneering, "Something up, Apollo?"
"Get your ass to the brig, Lieutenant. As of now, you're under arrest and remanded to quarters for assaulting a fellow officer."
"You can't do that, Apollo." She reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. "I have CAP in twenty minutes. And you can't pull anyone off, either, because everyone's either just flown a double, or just flown. And, that," she leans closer, anger still filling her, "wouldn't be fair."
Someone in the back of the crowd applauds.
It appeals to Kara's sense of drama, and she bows, "Thank you, thank you. I'm here until I die."
Apollo sends her off to fly CAP. It's the only choice he has.
-=-
Exhaustion doesn't leave her time to think much, barely leaves her time to dream. And she's not sleeping very well, anyway (hasn't, since Zak). Kara spends half the night jerking awake to stare into the dark, wondering which nugget will die next, which viper will malfunction or explode before she can get there in time.
She's never cared about whether she survives.
During the day, it doesn't show. She's Starbuck again, flashing her smile and her cigar, and throwing one or two punches as needed.
It irks her that she slips into helping Lee plan the rosters so easily. That she buffers between over-worked pilots and flight crew alike with something approaching grace. She should be out there more, doing something other than flying pointless, routine patrols.
If the Cylons would just come close enough for her to touch...
Chief's new ship gives her something to do, something to focus on. She spends hours in it, getting less sleep than before. Learning how to make it move.
Out in the black of space, hiding from her own vipers, she thinks about how easy it would be. Just a side-step with the blackbird, and she'll be gone into nowhere, speeding back towards Caprica. It's foolish, and it would probably get her killed--but she's done what she was supposed to, she brought back the Arrow, she's fulfilled her 'destiny'.
But then one of her nuggets will say something over the comm, or she'll come around and spot a civilian ship--and Starbuck settles back, knowing that this is what she's supposed to be doing.
She made this promise, first.
-f-
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You are one of the handful of writers that seem to really get Kara and write her well. Not that I'm surprised by that. But I love to read it, nevertheless.
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It's odd you should say that. I think the other reason I originally didn't post this fic was the nagging idea that this wasn't in character for Kara. *coughs* Scar, Res Ship, etc., have changed this opinion.
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Kara shoves at them, trying to break free, but Helo's not stupid (except when it comes to his heart, but she's not one to throw stones), and his grip tightens.
I love this line.
Out in the black of space, hiding from her own vipers, she thinks about how easy it would be. Just a side-step with the blackbird, and she'll be gone into nowhere, speeding back towards Caprica.[snip]
But then one of her nuggets will say something over the comm, or she'll come around and spot a civilian ship--and Starbuck settles back, knowing that this is what she's supposed to be doing.
She made this promise, first.
And that ^^ bit? Perfect.
God, I love Kara.
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You know, that bit with Helo was because I was looking at screencaps from the mini, and, while Sharon kinda steps away, Helo sorta hovers and is like, "Dude, I'm not stupid, you're gonna try to hit Tigh again"... Er. *g*
I think this fic was one of the bits in my head that popped up during Home -- trying to meld early!Kara with her slightly more mature self. Thus, the promise. Which, er, I'm assuming some sort of pledge as a cadet officer, or something. Either that, or simply that she's given her word to Adama to train the kids and such.
Me, too. *pets her* She is like fine wine! She gets better with age. ;)
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I like Kara's tendency to bottle things and not deal with them. Or to deal with them in self-destructive ways. *g*
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I spend (probably far too much) time thinking about this sort of thing. *coughs* In between watching episodes upside-down on the couch.