"There are no take backs"
Aug. 20th, 2005 02:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabid1stI can't take it back. I promised my long suffering buddy, Kes, a Battlestar Galactica birthday ficlet.
And here it is...a little Kara/Lee interlude...under the cut tag...hope you enjoy it, pet.
RUSH
By Rabid1st
COUPLE: Lee/Kara (Apollo/Starbuck)
RATING: R
BETAS: We don’t need no stink’n’ Betas*
SUMMARY: Sometime at the end of say...next season...Lee gets some perspective on his relationship with Kara and tries a different approach.
SPOILERS: I don’t read spoilers…but I have seen most of the episodes through S2, The Farm. Also, I could be wrong about the Major that Lee mentioned in passing not being a reference to the canon. But because I have missed a few episodes...if I am wrong I want you all to know this is a DIFFERENT Major...one who does what I have him doing...so there!
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters or situations. Battlestar Galactica and all trademarks and copyrights belong to the SciFi Network and Ron Moore.
*NOTE: Betas actually not available for this fic.
I said, ‘Sex!’ Kara likes sex…really enjoys the…process.
Storming along in the wake of her insolent retreat, Lee suddenly flashed back to Zak shouting out this tidbit of information. Downing one too many Circe shooters had inspired his little brother to sing Kara's praises during a lull in the booming dance bar music. A few people turned to glare disapproval but Lee, his state of inebriation rivaling Zak's, found the confession immensely funny. As if anyone needed Zak’s corroboration to support the evidence of their own eyes. Lee’s gaze found Kara as she swayed on the dance floor, loose limbed in the arms of a man she’d just met. The bursting good humor on his face started her giggling, too. It was a happy memory, intimate for all the wrong reasons.
That whole night was skewed in Lee's mind. He had paid only scant attention to Zak’s drunken babbling, prior to the confession. He’d indulgently nodded during the pauses in endless flight school gossip but he'd had other things on his mind. Nursing his drink, cradling the glass in both palms, he'd surreptitiously watched Kara Thrace float from partner to partner. He hadn't seen her in months and she was obviously out to get laid. Lee thought the smart money was on the slick medic at the end of the bar. It was only when Zak had fumbled the engagement chit from a jacket pocket and presented it with a bold flourish that Lee truly woke up to what his little brother was saying.
Lee had stilled, the rim of his glass near his lips, as he stared at the sparkling sliver of commitment. His mouth might have tightened. His right eyelid might have twitched. But he’d managed a bright smile. And jiggling the ice in his tumbler, he’d turned his subsequent desperate slug of 80-proof rot-gut into a toast. Zak was finally out ahead of him in something. And that was fine by Lee. He knew a sign from the Gods when it smacked him in the head.
Kara liked trip-weed cigarillos and shady games of chance and keeping the pedal down during routine maneuvers. She frakked men, and for all Lee knew women, whenever the urge took her. She argued with authority. She brawled bare-fisted, often without provocation. She enjoyed a firefight. Liked the shot of adrenaline, pumping blood into the delicate capillaries under her satiny skin. She never listened to reason. Certainly never listened to Lee. And if she married his brother under Caprican law they’d be blood bound. She'd be safely off limits. No more jagged ups and downs. No more thinking it over.
Sweat. Thrill. Thrust. Rush.
Kara went well with any verb that punched into your solar plexus. She didn’t think things through. She’d said yes to Zak in the heat of the moment. Drunk on life and dancing and sweet wine, she’d cast aside all her vaulted principles. Principles Lee had foolishly believed were keeping them apart. It was funny when you considered it soberly. In a flash, just as he lost her forever, he’d realized he could have had her any time.
He could have her now, if all he wanted was the sex. The thrust. The rush. She would frak him blind if he’d let her go afterward. Hell, if they’d been born on Virgon it would have been his social duty to carry through on his dead brother’s offer of marriage. But it wasn't about sex. Even on intellectual Caprica promiscuity wasn’t a sin. The teachings were quite clear on that point. Honor and love came from the soul and the mind, not the body. It was said Zeus fathered a hundred children of the body. But it was Hera’s jealousy that led to their marital strife.
Kara had loved Zak. And Zak had loved her, as she was. He’d never been jealous.
Hera’s malady had fallen on Lee. He’d burned with the shame of it, bottled it up with all his messier emotions. Until the day he’d caught Kara on her back in the garden, frakking some nameless Major and then every dram of his carefully stored ire had come spilling out. Lee hadn’t been protecting his brother’s rights or Kara's. A person had the right to choose what happened to her own body. A husband or wife might ask their life partner to end a relationship. Ask not demand. But the brother of a fiancé had no say at all.
Lee hadn’t even considered the social fallout. He’d thought only of himself. Feeling betrayed, he’d lashed out, at the Major and at Kara. There had been no excuse for his show of psychotic possessiveness.
Except…it should have been him in the garden.
He and Kara had swallowed that down…hidden it from sight…but in the heat of the moment he'd seen the truth in the haunted look she'd given him...and he'd taken the truth to heart.
Kara liked sex. And she didn’t give a flying frag for the rule of law or etiquette. All that really stood between her and Lee was the starch in his collar.
Lee stopped and watched her stride away down the corridor, hips keeping counterpoint time to her swinging arms. Her bob of blond hair flashed as she passed through intermittent pools of illumination. He didn’t let go easily.
“This isn’t over,” he shouted, not caring if he sounded less like a CAG and more like a petulant nugget.
In the next bright stretch of passageway she raised an arm high to deliver an obscene hand gesture. It was a common one, crude and forthright, expressing the sentiment that the receiver didn’t have the balls to finish what he’d started. The icy longing lodged in Lee’s heart since the day of his brother’s engagement came free with a crack like a calving glacier.
He broke from his cold start and ran at Kara, full tilt.
A detached part of his mind was slightly appalled by the complete dissolution of his self-control. He saw Kara react to the thud of his booted feet resounding on the metal flooring. She turned. Her eyes widened in surprise and for brief second a ghost of a smile touched her lips. Then she instinctively drew back her fist and dropped into the shadows, intent on setting her back to the wall for a fight. It was a good strategy but she'd miscalculated. There were storage rooms spaced along the corridor and instead of meeting a solid surface behind her Kara stumbled through an open door.
She landed on a pile of spongy matting, not hurt but momentarily disoriented. A moment was all Lee needed. He loomed in the doorway, catching at the frame to stop his forward momentum. Before Kara could think to scramble up, he closed with her, grabbing the front of her flight jacket. His hands fisted in the tough fabric. She braced both palms against his biceps as he flexed to lift her. Her feet flailed for traction but she was in an awkward position, butt dangling, and ankles half-over the raised threshold.
“You think I won’t do it,” he said, giving her a sound shake.
Her gaze flew to meet his, eyes flashing with anger and tears, and she spat out the worst thing she could think of to say, “Hypocrite.”
Before he could respond, she threw her weight to the side, rolling with him. Lee fell into the room and their limbs tangled in the small space. Frustrated by the worsening situation, Kara uttered a guttural shriek as she tried to tear free of his hold. She managed to wrest an arm out of her jacket sleeve. The slide of her bare skin against the back of his hand galvanized Lee. He let her sit but yanked viciously at the nape of her jacket, stripping it from her.
And even as he threw the heavy garment away from them his free hand snaked around Kara’s waist, capturing her before she could find her feet. His groping fingers found her bare belly, clawed up under her bra and closed over the hard knot of a nipple. She stopped fighting abruptly, arching her back and gasping out his name. Lee murmured some inane encouragement. His knee locked around her hips, drawing her into him as he pressed up into a partial straddle. This gave him a great view of her bunched shirt and bared breast.
She turned her head slightly to face him. “Am I dreaming?” she said, smirking just a little. Lee let his open mouth fall onto hers.
It was the fifth time they’d kissed.
But it was the first time it hadn’t taken one of them by surprise. Usually they bumped awkwardly into the moment and blustered their way out of it. At a party, to mark an engagement, for a graduation, to celebrate a return to the living…Lee knew he’d have to stop numbering these failed passes someday. Gods willing…today was that day.
The storeroom was close and crowded and they both smelled like back-to-back shifts in a Mark II. Every pilot grew accustomed to the scent, the magnification of human aroma stress created in a confined space. There was something primal about it. In the midst of technology you learned to live grubby, slick with your own oils like some primitive tribesman. Pilots smelled like people. Kara smelled like Kara and nobody else.
She tasted like Kara, too; a spit wash of mint over foul-assed recycled cigars, old beer and stale k-rations. And Lee still wanted her tongue next to his. He wanted her skin. He wanted her sweat. He wanted her scent to linger on him for days.
For once they were on the same page. Though hampered by occasional spasms of delight, Kara worked diligently on the buckles and snaps separating them. Lee couldn’t help her. His hands were busy. A man could only do so much with his tongue.
There was a saying on Caprica: If the Fates come between you and your heart’s desire three times your destiny lies with another. Lee figured the Fates must have him at 30 and 0 by now. Even if there was something to be said for he and his heart’s desire both somehow surviving a multi-world holocaust.
Just as Kara removed the last stitch of her clothing footsteps echoed up the hall. Someone was coming, several people judging by the noise. No doubt this festive crowd had been sent by those pesky Fates. This is what happened when Lee rushed into things, when he didn’t plan ahead. Lee knew a half second of despair before his CAG instincts kicked in.
When the Fates screw you over in combat...you improvise.
He pushed Kara’s knees up, hitching her further into the room, and in the same flow of motion reached for the overhead door pull. Unfortunately, his flailing hand hit the light switch instead. They both yelped at the sudden bright flare and then quickly traded apologetic looks. Sweet Aphrodite, someone would surely hear. Blinking the spots from his eyes, Lee grabbed again for the door handle and got it. The frakking door jammed for a second but was no match for his weight. It came down with an unholy rattling and Lee used his boot heel to kick its latch to locked. He fell back against Kara and they waited, huddled and breathless, like seven year olds playing Sardine.
Knowing the lock could be opened from the outside, and certain they were about to be exposed, Lee held rigidly still as the voices and steps came to the door…and only dared to breath when they moved on, drawing away.
Against his back, Kara’s whole body was shaking with suppressed mirth. Pivoting on his hip, Lee tried to shush her, covering her mouth with an open palm and using a low pitched 'voice of command' to inform her that their current situation wasn’t the least bit funny. But he couldn’t keep a straight face either. And despite the considerable handicap of one or the other of them burbling with laughter at the most inopportune times, Kara and Lee managed to make love.
The End
Now...off to a well-earned sleep.
Rae
And here it is...a little Kara/Lee interlude...under the cut tag...hope you enjoy it, pet.
RUSH
By Rabid1st
COUPLE: Lee/Kara (Apollo/Starbuck)
RATING: R
BETAS: We don’t need no stink’n’ Betas*
SUMMARY: Sometime at the end of say...next season...Lee gets some perspective on his relationship with Kara and tries a different approach.
SPOILERS: I don’t read spoilers…but I have seen most of the episodes through S2, The Farm. Also, I could be wrong about the Major that Lee mentioned in passing not being a reference to the canon. But because I have missed a few episodes...if I am wrong I want you all to know this is a DIFFERENT Major...one who does what I have him doing...so there!
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters or situations. Battlestar Galactica and all trademarks and copyrights belong to the SciFi Network and Ron Moore.
*NOTE: Betas actually not available for this fic.
I said, ‘Sex!’ Kara likes sex…really enjoys the…process.
Storming along in the wake of her insolent retreat, Lee suddenly flashed back to Zak shouting out this tidbit of information. Downing one too many Circe shooters had inspired his little brother to sing Kara's praises during a lull in the booming dance bar music. A few people turned to glare disapproval but Lee, his state of inebriation rivaling Zak's, found the confession immensely funny. As if anyone needed Zak’s corroboration to support the evidence of their own eyes. Lee’s gaze found Kara as she swayed on the dance floor, loose limbed in the arms of a man she’d just met. The bursting good humor on his face started her giggling, too. It was a happy memory, intimate for all the wrong reasons.
That whole night was skewed in Lee's mind. He had paid only scant attention to Zak’s drunken babbling, prior to the confession. He’d indulgently nodded during the pauses in endless flight school gossip but he'd had other things on his mind. Nursing his drink, cradling the glass in both palms, he'd surreptitiously watched Kara Thrace float from partner to partner. He hadn't seen her in months and she was obviously out to get laid. Lee thought the smart money was on the slick medic at the end of the bar. It was only when Zak had fumbled the engagement chit from a jacket pocket and presented it with a bold flourish that Lee truly woke up to what his little brother was saying.
Lee had stilled, the rim of his glass near his lips, as he stared at the sparkling sliver of commitment. His mouth might have tightened. His right eyelid might have twitched. But he’d managed a bright smile. And jiggling the ice in his tumbler, he’d turned his subsequent desperate slug of 80-proof rot-gut into a toast. Zak was finally out ahead of him in something. And that was fine by Lee. He knew a sign from the Gods when it smacked him in the head.
Kara liked trip-weed cigarillos and shady games of chance and keeping the pedal down during routine maneuvers. She frakked men, and for all Lee knew women, whenever the urge took her. She argued with authority. She brawled bare-fisted, often without provocation. She enjoyed a firefight. Liked the shot of adrenaline, pumping blood into the delicate capillaries under her satiny skin. She never listened to reason. Certainly never listened to Lee. And if she married his brother under Caprican law they’d be blood bound. She'd be safely off limits. No more jagged ups and downs. No more thinking it over.
Sweat. Thrill. Thrust. Rush.
Kara went well with any verb that punched into your solar plexus. She didn’t think things through. She’d said yes to Zak in the heat of the moment. Drunk on life and dancing and sweet wine, she’d cast aside all her vaulted principles. Principles Lee had foolishly believed were keeping them apart. It was funny when you considered it soberly. In a flash, just as he lost her forever, he’d realized he could have had her any time.
He could have her now, if all he wanted was the sex. The thrust. The rush. She would frak him blind if he’d let her go afterward. Hell, if they’d been born on Virgon it would have been his social duty to carry through on his dead brother’s offer of marriage. But it wasn't about sex. Even on intellectual Caprica promiscuity wasn’t a sin. The teachings were quite clear on that point. Honor and love came from the soul and the mind, not the body. It was said Zeus fathered a hundred children of the body. But it was Hera’s jealousy that led to their marital strife.
Kara had loved Zak. And Zak had loved her, as she was. He’d never been jealous.
Hera’s malady had fallen on Lee. He’d burned with the shame of it, bottled it up with all his messier emotions. Until the day he’d caught Kara on her back in the garden, frakking some nameless Major and then every dram of his carefully stored ire had come spilling out. Lee hadn’t been protecting his brother’s rights or Kara's. A person had the right to choose what happened to her own body. A husband or wife might ask their life partner to end a relationship. Ask not demand. But the brother of a fiancé had no say at all.
Lee hadn’t even considered the social fallout. He’d thought only of himself. Feeling betrayed, he’d lashed out, at the Major and at Kara. There had been no excuse for his show of psychotic possessiveness.
Except…it should have been him in the garden.
He and Kara had swallowed that down…hidden it from sight…but in the heat of the moment he'd seen the truth in the haunted look she'd given him...and he'd taken the truth to heart.
Kara liked sex. And she didn’t give a flying frag for the rule of law or etiquette. All that really stood between her and Lee was the starch in his collar.
Lee stopped and watched her stride away down the corridor, hips keeping counterpoint time to her swinging arms. Her bob of blond hair flashed as she passed through intermittent pools of illumination. He didn’t let go easily.
“This isn’t over,” he shouted, not caring if he sounded less like a CAG and more like a petulant nugget.
In the next bright stretch of passageway she raised an arm high to deliver an obscene hand gesture. It was a common one, crude and forthright, expressing the sentiment that the receiver didn’t have the balls to finish what he’d started. The icy longing lodged in Lee’s heart since the day of his brother’s engagement came free with a crack like a calving glacier.
He broke from his cold start and ran at Kara, full tilt.
A detached part of his mind was slightly appalled by the complete dissolution of his self-control. He saw Kara react to the thud of his booted feet resounding on the metal flooring. She turned. Her eyes widened in surprise and for brief second a ghost of a smile touched her lips. Then she instinctively drew back her fist and dropped into the shadows, intent on setting her back to the wall for a fight. It was a good strategy but she'd miscalculated. There were storage rooms spaced along the corridor and instead of meeting a solid surface behind her Kara stumbled through an open door.
She landed on a pile of spongy matting, not hurt but momentarily disoriented. A moment was all Lee needed. He loomed in the doorway, catching at the frame to stop his forward momentum. Before Kara could think to scramble up, he closed with her, grabbing the front of her flight jacket. His hands fisted in the tough fabric. She braced both palms against his biceps as he flexed to lift her. Her feet flailed for traction but she was in an awkward position, butt dangling, and ankles half-over the raised threshold.
“You think I won’t do it,” he said, giving her a sound shake.
Her gaze flew to meet his, eyes flashing with anger and tears, and she spat out the worst thing she could think of to say, “Hypocrite.”
Before he could respond, she threw her weight to the side, rolling with him. Lee fell into the room and their limbs tangled in the small space. Frustrated by the worsening situation, Kara uttered a guttural shriek as she tried to tear free of his hold. She managed to wrest an arm out of her jacket sleeve. The slide of her bare skin against the back of his hand galvanized Lee. He let her sit but yanked viciously at the nape of her jacket, stripping it from her.
And even as he threw the heavy garment away from them his free hand snaked around Kara’s waist, capturing her before she could find her feet. His groping fingers found her bare belly, clawed up under her bra and closed over the hard knot of a nipple. She stopped fighting abruptly, arching her back and gasping out his name. Lee murmured some inane encouragement. His knee locked around her hips, drawing her into him as he pressed up into a partial straddle. This gave him a great view of her bunched shirt and bared breast.
She turned her head slightly to face him. “Am I dreaming?” she said, smirking just a little. Lee let his open mouth fall onto hers.
It was the fifth time they’d kissed.
But it was the first time it hadn’t taken one of them by surprise. Usually they bumped awkwardly into the moment and blustered their way out of it. At a party, to mark an engagement, for a graduation, to celebrate a return to the living…Lee knew he’d have to stop numbering these failed passes someday. Gods willing…today was that day.
The storeroom was close and crowded and they both smelled like back-to-back shifts in a Mark II. Every pilot grew accustomed to the scent, the magnification of human aroma stress created in a confined space. There was something primal about it. In the midst of technology you learned to live grubby, slick with your own oils like some primitive tribesman. Pilots smelled like people. Kara smelled like Kara and nobody else.
She tasted like Kara, too; a spit wash of mint over foul-assed recycled cigars, old beer and stale k-rations. And Lee still wanted her tongue next to his. He wanted her skin. He wanted her sweat. He wanted her scent to linger on him for days.
For once they were on the same page. Though hampered by occasional spasms of delight, Kara worked diligently on the buckles and snaps separating them. Lee couldn’t help her. His hands were busy. A man could only do so much with his tongue.
There was a saying on Caprica: If the Fates come between you and your heart’s desire three times your destiny lies with another. Lee figured the Fates must have him at 30 and 0 by now. Even if there was something to be said for he and his heart’s desire both somehow surviving a multi-world holocaust.
Just as Kara removed the last stitch of her clothing footsteps echoed up the hall. Someone was coming, several people judging by the noise. No doubt this festive crowd had been sent by those pesky Fates. This is what happened when Lee rushed into things, when he didn’t plan ahead. Lee knew a half second of despair before his CAG instincts kicked in.
When the Fates screw you over in combat...you improvise.
He pushed Kara’s knees up, hitching her further into the room, and in the same flow of motion reached for the overhead door pull. Unfortunately, his flailing hand hit the light switch instead. They both yelped at the sudden bright flare and then quickly traded apologetic looks. Sweet Aphrodite, someone would surely hear. Blinking the spots from his eyes, Lee grabbed again for the door handle and got it. The frakking door jammed for a second but was no match for his weight. It came down with an unholy rattling and Lee used his boot heel to kick its latch to locked. He fell back against Kara and they waited, huddled and breathless, like seven year olds playing Sardine.
Knowing the lock could be opened from the outside, and certain they were about to be exposed, Lee held rigidly still as the voices and steps came to the door…and only dared to breath when they moved on, drawing away.
Against his back, Kara’s whole body was shaking with suppressed mirth. Pivoting on his hip, Lee tried to shush her, covering her mouth with an open palm and using a low pitched 'voice of command' to inform her that their current situation wasn’t the least bit funny. But he couldn’t keep a straight face either. And despite the considerable handicap of one or the other of them burbling with laughter at the most inopportune times, Kara and Lee managed to make love.
The End
Now...off to a well-earned sleep.
Rae