BSG Fic
Pilots have taken over my already overtaxed brain. Woe
Title: Little Disasters
Author:andacus
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kara/Zak, Kara/Lee
Spoilers: Very vague ones for Daybreak I and II
Summary: They act as normal as they can and somehow it starts to feel okay. Still, somehow, it feels like the beginning of the end.
It takes three almost-sober dinners before Lee and Kara stop trying to cover up how awkward they feel and start to just get used to it. Lee has a harder time of it than she does and she takes pity on him by distracting Zak more often than not. He ignores the twist in his gut at her idea of distraction until it’s almost second nature, until he almost doesn’t have to try anymore.
By the fourth gathering -- this time in a bar, at Zak’s insisting -- they’ve managed to find neutrality. They act as normal as they can and somehow it starts to feel okay. Still, somehow, it feels like the beginning of the end.
The bar is dark and mundane; the kind of place that’s neither nice nor dirty, and they all like it instantly. Aspiring viper jocks mill about and Starbuck and Apollo seem to be the only actual viper jocks in the place. They like that too.
Zak orders the first round - something simple with a ridiculous name - and they talk of Pyramid and politics and make merciless fun of Lee, but he doesn’t mind because he’s humoring his brother and when Kara’s pretending to be mean he can pretend to stare at her in indignation instead of lust. It’s a fine line with her, everything always is.
The crowd swells and Zak starts to see people he knows, which of course leads to introductions and conversations and, at one point, Kara leans across the table and whispers, “He’s showing us off.”
Lee laughs and agrees with her and it takes her too long to sit back again.
Zak hollers at a man across the room and says something about a long time and sorry guys and be right back. They both smile indulgently, but glance awkwardly at each other as soon as he’s gone. It’s only a minute later that the bartender drops off their next round and they drink them immediately.
“You know,” Kara says, setting her glass down, “we should really deal with this.” She gestures between them to emphasize what she means by this, and Lee wonders in what reality he wouldn’t instinctively know what she meant already.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
She pauses to think a moment before shrugging and lifting her hands like she really doesn’t have an answer. Neither of them even bothers denying that there’s something to deal with in the first place. It’s too late for that.
Zak comes back all smiles and drunken swagger, and they’re swept up in stories and drinks and distractions until they forget to pretend to ignore each other.
XXX
The first time they fight it gets ugly quickly.
They’re six bars into the Delphi Main Street Bar Crawl on Mars Day when Zak falls over, drunk, and some friends offer to take him home. Before either Lee or Kara can remember that drunk plus together minus Zak equals bad, the friends are gone and they’re standing on the street, watching the world trip by.
“Next!” Kara says, making her way to the newest bar, ignoring that sensation in her gut that always leads to trouble.
They order two rounds and Lee heads to the men’s room while the bartender hustles up their order, his patrons already demanding too much of him.
Kara waits, saving him a stool with her leg propped up on the leather cushion. She waits to drink too; it isn’t as fun without him.
“This seat taken?” A man with Major’s pins on his lapels asks and Kara says, “No, Sir,” because he outranks her, even here in the civilian world. “But the drinks are,” she adds a second later, smiling broadly and a little daringly.
He smiles and asks her name and rank and he’s charming, so she leans into him a little, just enough to be flirty, but not enough to give permission.
His name’s Major Whatever from Wherever. He’s older than she is by a bit, but that’s never mattered. He tells her about when he was a pilot -- flew Raptors and she chides him for being wimpy. He laughs and drops a hand to the small of her back, where his warm fingers play with the hem of her shirt. She lets him. He drops his face close to hers, so close she thinks he might kiss her. Kara lifts her chin to meet him, but before anything happens, someone grabs her shoulder and drags her away.
“What the frak are you doing?” Lee asks, outrage clear in his voice.
“Making friends,” she says all sarcasm and defiance. Typical.
“What about Zak?”
“What about Zak? He’s not here.”
Lee looks outraged and she’s suddenly unsure which part of this is more annoying to him -- the other guy or the other guy who isn’t him?
“Is this what you do? You just frak around on my brother? With some random stranger, no less?”
Kara scoffs at him, drags him down by his lapels and kisses him. She pushes him away only a second later before the shock can ware off and he thinks to kiss her back (because, even in her ambrosia-addled brain, she knows what that would mean).
“Happy now, Adama?”
She never even saw the fist coming.
Two hours later they’re sitting on his couch, ice on their faces, feet on the coffee table, laughing.
XXX
A week later Kara calls Lee for a favor. She doesn’t like asking, but it was Lee or some random Lieutenant from base. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that she’s been dying to see what he’s like in a cockpit since she heard his call sign. Nothing at all.
“Hello?” He says after the third ring.
“Hey, it’s me.”
They both wonder when “me” became sufficient.
“What’s up?”
“I’m calling in a favor, Apollo.”
He chuckles on the other end and says, “I didn’t know I owed you any.”
“You will,” she teases and it all feels so natural and familiar that she instantly clamps her mouth shut.
“Probably,” he acquiesces. “What do you need?”
“I’m taking the nuggets on a fieldtrip. They need to see intra-atmosphere flying firsthand and I need a wingman.”
He agrees quickly and little too eagerly.
They meet two days later, suited up, facing young, excited eyes. Zak is there too, though he’s not showing his brother off this time. Instead, he’s quiet and studious and it throws Lee just a little.
“This is Lieutenant Adama, call sign Apollo. He and I will be showing you sorry lowlifes how this is done. Try to keep up.”
XXX
They fly together every week after that. Sometimes they lie to get clearance - anything to be able to fly together. Lee feels trite thinking it, but it’s like they’ve always done this, like they’ve been flying together forever, like they fly and fight and someday it’s going to be flying and fighting and frakking.
Zak starts to get annoyed, not because he suspects anything, but because he feels left out, so they call up Karl and run Raptor/Viper drills so Zak can play too, even if he is just sitting in the Raptor pretending to be Helo’s ECO. The first time he goes along is the first time Zak realizes just how badly he wants to fly.
“Apollo, you keep grabbing your stick like that and this’ll be all over before I have any fun.”
“Starbuck, I’ve got a hundred more moves in my stick. I guarantee you’ll have fun.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Shut the frak up and roll over already.”
There’s a repertoire, a connection when you’re piloting tons of metal and glass and bullets with someone - it’s a club that he wants to be part of and not just because his father thinks he should.
“Okay, Apollo, come and get me. I’m right here, all ready and waiting.” She dives at the last minute, flipping and spiraling and Lee follows her only a little too late.
“You’re screwing up my money-shot, Starbuck.”
Later, Helo asks Kara what the frak she’s doing and laughs at her through her denials and her just friends arguments.
“Sorry, Starbuck, you might be fooling Zak, but you’re not fooling anyone else.”
Helo gets sent to Galactica for a tour of duty, so they make one last flying date. Lee’s tense the entire time, suddenly reminded of his father and his own impending shipment to Gods-only-know-where.
Helo takes their picture and Kara laughs at him because he’s always got that Godsdamned camera. It isn’t until years later that she’s grateful for it.
XXX
When the sky falls, Lee’s at home waiting for Kara. She’s taking him out to dinner before he ships out in the morning, bound for the Atlantia. But she never comes. Instead, the MPs do. They tell him it was an accident, that Zak never knew what hit him, that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault.
Lee knows better. At least he thinks he does.
Kara gravitates toward him, her face always set in grim lines. Neither of them can relate to the people around them; mother, father, commanding officer, drinking buddy. These aren’t their people. These people didn’t know Zak, not really, not like they did and these people didn’t let him down like they did. Grief and guilt bind them together and hold them up.
Until they don’t anymore.
He lashes out, betrayed and hurt and floundering and she can’t seem to get him to hear her. Galactica wants her, it’s close to Zak’s dad, it’s away from the academy, it’s what she wants. But all he can see is blame and all he can hear are tales of Husker and life lessons that get the good people killed.
Kara tries to forgive him for acting like a frakker at the funeral, for what he said to his dad, and she almost has by the time she finds him in a coffee house twenty minutes later, staring at the menu with blind eyes.
“Hey,” she says, a hand on his shoulder.
He shrugs her off and doesn’t look at her. He speaks with contempt. “Go back to the house. They’re waiting for you. Your new family.”
For the second time she wonders which part of this makes him so angry - the other people or the other people who aren’t him?
She kisses his cheek, pauses a moment to be close to him just a little longer, says, “You know where to find me,” and walks back out into the warm afternoon, her heart completely broken.
XXX
He works up the guts to send one letter, just one. It’s an apology and a plea and a bandage and they’re both glad he sent it. She reads the subtext as much as the text because somehow she can hear his intent more than she can process his words.
He tells her of life on the Atlantia in long sentences and short tales of his misadventures and his successes. He speaks of Zak in long words and she can see the space between the words lengthen, like he’s taking longer to think about this part. He doesn’t speak of his father at all.
Kara reads it through three times before folding it up and stuffing it in the back of her locker. She looks at the picture of them, the picture Karl took, and wonders if she should unfold it, if she can bear to have that staring at her everyday; the reminder that she’s not the only person feeling guilty, that she’s the reason Lee hates his father even more now, that she considered betraying Zak every second of every day since she met his brother. No, no she can’t. She closes her locker, determined to unfold it tomorrow. She’s always determined to unfold it tomorrow.
Title: Little Disasters
Author:andacus
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kara/Zak, Kara/Lee
Spoilers: Very vague ones for Daybreak I and II
Summary: They act as normal as they can and somehow it starts to feel okay. Still, somehow, it feels like the beginning of the end.
It takes three almost-sober dinners before Lee and Kara stop trying to cover up how awkward they feel and start to just get used to it. Lee has a harder time of it than she does and she takes pity on him by distracting Zak more often than not. He ignores the twist in his gut at her idea of distraction until it’s almost second nature, until he almost doesn’t have to try anymore.
By the fourth gathering -- this time in a bar, at Zak’s insisting -- they’ve managed to find neutrality. They act as normal as they can and somehow it starts to feel okay. Still, somehow, it feels like the beginning of the end.
The bar is dark and mundane; the kind of place that’s neither nice nor dirty, and they all like it instantly. Aspiring viper jocks mill about and Starbuck and Apollo seem to be the only actual viper jocks in the place. They like that too.
Zak orders the first round - something simple with a ridiculous name - and they talk of Pyramid and politics and make merciless fun of Lee, but he doesn’t mind because he’s humoring his brother and when Kara’s pretending to be mean he can pretend to stare at her in indignation instead of lust. It’s a fine line with her, everything always is.
The crowd swells and Zak starts to see people he knows, which of course leads to introductions and conversations and, at one point, Kara leans across the table and whispers, “He’s showing us off.”
Lee laughs and agrees with her and it takes her too long to sit back again.
Zak hollers at a man across the room and says something about a long time and sorry guys and be right back. They both smile indulgently, but glance awkwardly at each other as soon as he’s gone. It’s only a minute later that the bartender drops off their next round and they drink them immediately.
“You know,” Kara says, setting her glass down, “we should really deal with this.” She gestures between them to emphasize what she means by this, and Lee wonders in what reality he wouldn’t instinctively know what she meant already.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
She pauses to think a moment before shrugging and lifting her hands like she really doesn’t have an answer. Neither of them even bothers denying that there’s something to deal with in the first place. It’s too late for that.
Zak comes back all smiles and drunken swagger, and they’re swept up in stories and drinks and distractions until they forget to pretend to ignore each other.
XXX
The first time they fight it gets ugly quickly.
They’re six bars into the Delphi Main Street Bar Crawl on Mars Day when Zak falls over, drunk, and some friends offer to take him home. Before either Lee or Kara can remember that drunk plus together minus Zak equals bad, the friends are gone and they’re standing on the street, watching the world trip by.
“Next!” Kara says, making her way to the newest bar, ignoring that sensation in her gut that always leads to trouble.
They order two rounds and Lee heads to the men’s room while the bartender hustles up their order, his patrons already demanding too much of him.
Kara waits, saving him a stool with her leg propped up on the leather cushion. She waits to drink too; it isn’t as fun without him.
“This seat taken?” A man with Major’s pins on his lapels asks and Kara says, “No, Sir,” because he outranks her, even here in the civilian world. “But the drinks are,” she adds a second later, smiling broadly and a little daringly.
He smiles and asks her name and rank and he’s charming, so she leans into him a little, just enough to be flirty, but not enough to give permission.
His name’s Major Whatever from Wherever. He’s older than she is by a bit, but that’s never mattered. He tells her about when he was a pilot -- flew Raptors and she chides him for being wimpy. He laughs and drops a hand to the small of her back, where his warm fingers play with the hem of her shirt. She lets him. He drops his face close to hers, so close she thinks he might kiss her. Kara lifts her chin to meet him, but before anything happens, someone grabs her shoulder and drags her away.
“What the frak are you doing?” Lee asks, outrage clear in his voice.
“Making friends,” she says all sarcasm and defiance. Typical.
“What about Zak?”
“What about Zak? He’s not here.”
Lee looks outraged and she’s suddenly unsure which part of this is more annoying to him -- the other guy or the other guy who isn’t him?
“Is this what you do? You just frak around on my brother? With some random stranger, no less?”
Kara scoffs at him, drags him down by his lapels and kisses him. She pushes him away only a second later before the shock can ware off and he thinks to kiss her back (because, even in her ambrosia-addled brain, she knows what that would mean).
“Happy now, Adama?”
She never even saw the fist coming.
Two hours later they’re sitting on his couch, ice on their faces, feet on the coffee table, laughing.
XXX
A week later Kara calls Lee for a favor. She doesn’t like asking, but it was Lee or some random Lieutenant from base. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that she’s been dying to see what he’s like in a cockpit since she heard his call sign. Nothing at all.
“Hello?” He says after the third ring.
“Hey, it’s me.”
They both wonder when “me” became sufficient.
“What’s up?”
“I’m calling in a favor, Apollo.”
He chuckles on the other end and says, “I didn’t know I owed you any.”
“You will,” she teases and it all feels so natural and familiar that she instantly clamps her mouth shut.
“Probably,” he acquiesces. “What do you need?”
“I’m taking the nuggets on a fieldtrip. They need to see intra-atmosphere flying firsthand and I need a wingman.”
He agrees quickly and little too eagerly.
They meet two days later, suited up, facing young, excited eyes. Zak is there too, though he’s not showing his brother off this time. Instead, he’s quiet and studious and it throws Lee just a little.
“This is Lieutenant Adama, call sign Apollo. He and I will be showing you sorry lowlifes how this is done. Try to keep up.”
XXX
They fly together every week after that. Sometimes they lie to get clearance - anything to be able to fly together. Lee feels trite thinking it, but it’s like they’ve always done this, like they’ve been flying together forever, like they fly and fight and someday it’s going to be flying and fighting and frakking.
Zak starts to get annoyed, not because he suspects anything, but because he feels left out, so they call up Karl and run Raptor/Viper drills so Zak can play too, even if he is just sitting in the Raptor pretending to be Helo’s ECO. The first time he goes along is the first time Zak realizes just how badly he wants to fly.
“Apollo, you keep grabbing your stick like that and this’ll be all over before I have any fun.”
“Starbuck, I’ve got a hundred more moves in my stick. I guarantee you’ll have fun.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Shut the frak up and roll over already.”
There’s a repertoire, a connection when you’re piloting tons of metal and glass and bullets with someone - it’s a club that he wants to be part of and not just because his father thinks he should.
“Okay, Apollo, come and get me. I’m right here, all ready and waiting.” She dives at the last minute, flipping and spiraling and Lee follows her only a little too late.
“You’re screwing up my money-shot, Starbuck.”
Later, Helo asks Kara what the frak she’s doing and laughs at her through her denials and her just friends arguments.
“Sorry, Starbuck, you might be fooling Zak, but you’re not fooling anyone else.”
Helo gets sent to Galactica for a tour of duty, so they make one last flying date. Lee’s tense the entire time, suddenly reminded of his father and his own impending shipment to Gods-only-know-where.
Helo takes their picture and Kara laughs at him because he’s always got that Godsdamned camera. It isn’t until years later that she’s grateful for it.
XXX
When the sky falls, Lee’s at home waiting for Kara. She’s taking him out to dinner before he ships out in the morning, bound for the Atlantia. But she never comes. Instead, the MPs do. They tell him it was an accident, that Zak never knew what hit him, that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault.
Lee knows better. At least he thinks he does.
Kara gravitates toward him, her face always set in grim lines. Neither of them can relate to the people around them; mother, father, commanding officer, drinking buddy. These aren’t their people. These people didn’t know Zak, not really, not like they did and these people didn’t let him down like they did. Grief and guilt bind them together and hold them up.
Until they don’t anymore.
He lashes out, betrayed and hurt and floundering and she can’t seem to get him to hear her. Galactica wants her, it’s close to Zak’s dad, it’s away from the academy, it’s what she wants. But all he can see is blame and all he can hear are tales of Husker and life lessons that get the good people killed.
Kara tries to forgive him for acting like a frakker at the funeral, for what he said to his dad, and she almost has by the time she finds him in a coffee house twenty minutes later, staring at the menu with blind eyes.
“Hey,” she says, a hand on his shoulder.
He shrugs her off and doesn’t look at her. He speaks with contempt. “Go back to the house. They’re waiting for you. Your new family.”
For the second time she wonders which part of this makes him so angry - the other people or the other people who aren’t him?
She kisses his cheek, pauses a moment to be close to him just a little longer, says, “You know where to find me,” and walks back out into the warm afternoon, her heart completely broken.
XXX
He works up the guts to send one letter, just one. It’s an apology and a plea and a bandage and they’re both glad he sent it. She reads the subtext as much as the text because somehow she can hear his intent more than she can process his words.
He tells her of life on the Atlantia in long sentences and short tales of his misadventures and his successes. He speaks of Zak in long words and she can see the space between the words lengthen, like he’s taking longer to think about this part. He doesn’t speak of his father at all.
Kara reads it through three times before folding it up and stuffing it in the back of her locker. She looks at the picture of them, the picture Karl took, and wonders if she should unfold it, if she can bear to have that staring at her everyday; the reminder that she’s not the only person feeling guilty, that she’s the reason Lee hates his father even more now, that she considered betraying Zak every second of every day since she met his brother. No, no she can’t. She closes her locker, determined to unfold it tomorrow. She’s always determined to unfold it tomorrow.