In which Clare is giggling so much
Ok, so the fabulous deborah_judge put together an Epics Ship War over on bsg_epics the past couple of days and it was the most fun thing ever. So. Much. Fic!
I managed to dredge out of my brain two A/R ficlets and, totally randomly and out of nowhere (and it's all down to letterstonorah who is insanely persuasive and so much fun to get all excited with) FOUR Laura/Kara ficlets. IDEK. I didn't even ship them until, like, Tuesday. The other THIRTY FIVE Laura/Kara ficlets were Norah's.
I DO however have a lot of new prompts for my other ships too now. I have Laura/Lee ideas popping out of my ears, but there was no point writing them for the challenge because I couldn't have competed, so I stuck with the ships that stood a chance.
Anyhow. Here for posterity. The first one is kinda rubbish. The Sammy A/R ficlet is a scene from a much longer Laura&Sam crack fic (but yes, it's A/R really), so that might well get finished at some point.
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Things Bill Adama Knows, A/R, PG
This is what Bill Adama knows.
That he has loved Laura Roslin since the day that he was born. Since before she was born. Since the day the universe burst into being and the stars formed and the first inkling of life began.
That there has always been a Laura-shaped space in his heart, waiting for her to fill it, and though it has taken him sixty years to recognise it for the gaping hole that it is, that takes nothing away from the fact that it has always been there, just waiting, biding its time for her to step into it and make him whole.
That she will leave him, and when she leaves him, he will crumble in on himself around that hole, because his heart is so used to being supported by her body and her mind and her soul that it doesn’t know how to prop itself up without her anymore. That she’s the strong one, and always has been, no matter that her body is so fragile. That it seems impossible that she cannot command her body to heal itself simply by the strength of her will, and have the universe fall into place around her desires.
This is what Bill Adama knows.
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Frakkin' Sam, A/R, PG13
Admiral’s Quarters
Battlestar Galactica
Bill wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her right. They’d been having a quiet dinner together, talking about the problems with the lack of new supplies for ship repairs, and discussing a book she’d borrowed from him, and he’d been admiring her legs in his favourite skirt and hoping she was in a good enough mood for a bit of fun before she had to go back to Colonial One because it had been a while since they’d had the chance, and then his brain caught up with his ears and he spluttered.
“Say that again?”
“Sam Anders is organising a pyramid tournament and I’m going to be on his team.” She took a delicate bite of the algae-based concoction that passed for dinner that evening, somehow making it look edible.
“What?! Tell me you’re joking, Laura.” She had to be joking. Didn’t she?
She shook her head, putting her fork down and looking at him. “No, I’m not joking. It’s a good idea, it’ll boost morale. And Sam wants me on his team and I want to play.”
(Tall, handsome, young) Sam Anders wanted Laura on his team. Bill just bet he did. All that touching (with those arms) and tackling (and those muscles) and team talks (whispering and giggling and huddled away together) and Laura in a tight little pyramid strip (and team showers? Oh gods, team showers. And post-game rubdowns. Zeus’ balls!) and ...
She was snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Bill?”
He glowered at her. She and Mr Anders had been far too friendly for his liking back on New Caprica, with all those dinner invitations with Kara and cosy chats and going for walks and messing about on the pyramid courts together, while he’d been stuck on Galactica half the time. Granted, when he wasn’t on Galactica, he was usually in Laura’s bed, but Anders had been on the planet all the time. And gods only knew what had gone on in the four months after he’d jumped away and Kara had been locked away in that house. Laura was very circumspect about the whole thing. Ok, so he knew they’d been blowing up cylons and getting thrown in detention most of the time, but there was always comfort frakking? Wasn’t there? Anders would have had to be mad to pass up the chance. And it was obvious he and Kara had been having problems recently. And now Laura wanted to get all cosy with him again. Playing pyramid?
He wasn’t happy about this. Wasn’t happy at all.
“What?” She was frowning at him.
“It’s inappropriate, Laura.” Maybe he could talk her out of it. And then suggest a little one-on-one practice of their own...
“Do you not think I’ve thought it through? Maybe back on Caprica, it would have been inappropriate for a president to do something like this, but there’s less than forty thousand of us left, Bill, and people need to see that I’m as human as they are. I’ve lived alongside these people. Taught their children, washed my clothes alongside them, showered alongside them ... take that look off your face, it’s not like I had a choice ... so a few games of pyramid aren’t going to ruin my reputation, are they? And anyway, if it’s alright for you to get up in the ring and get yourself beaten bloody, then it’s alright ...”
She was leaning forward a little, making her points, and that blouse was the white crossover one that he liked, and ...
“Bill?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, for frak’s sake. I’m playing, and that’s that.” And the expression on her face said that arguing with her about it wasn’t going to get him anywhere except the couch. On his own.
“Well ... I want to play too. You and I can set our own team up.” There was an idea. Then he could provide the team showers and the rubdowns.
She shook her head a little. “No can do, Bill. We need to use your starboard flight deck for the courts because it’s the only place big enough to fill with spectators, and I’m going to ask Saul to be the referee, so you need to stay out of it. You need to be neutral so we don’t get any accusations of bias. Anyhow, that moustache is against regulations for pyramid. Sam told me.” She picked up her glass of water, smirking a little at him over the top of it.
Frakkin’ Sam told her. Frakkin’ Sam wanting him kept out of it. Frakkin’ Sam trying to get Laura all to himself.
“Well, you shouldn’t be on Anders’ team, Laura.”
“Why not?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Uh...” Because he’s young and has that six-pack and those arms and he likes to drape them around your shoulders and you giggle when he does ... “Because ...”
Dammit. There must be dozens of reasons it was a bad idea other than that, surely?
She looked at him pointedly for a long moment, before speaking slowly, as though he was a five year old. “I’m going to play pyramid, Bill. I’m going to be on Sam’s team, Bill. And you can stop being such a big baby about it, Bill. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely. And now I need to be getting back to my shuttle.”
And she got up, packing her papers back into her bag, ruffled his hair and then went to the hatch and opened it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Admiral.” And then she was gone, leaving just a trace of her perfume on the air.
Frakkin’ Sam ruining his perfectly planned seduction. Frakkin’ Sam.
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Daphne, Laura/Kara, PG
The first time Laura sees it, it’s one of her bad days, where her legs are like jelly and her muscles ache, and she’s had to ask Billy to postpone all her meetings until tomorrow in the hopes, small as they are, that she’ll feel better. One of those messages was to Kara, who, in true Kara Thrace fashion, arrived on the next raptor shuttle. And now, here they are, in Laura’s bedroom, Laura’s head against Kara’s thigh, Kara’s fingers stroking through Laura’s hair. Mostly in silence. There’s not much more to say.
It’s the bandage on Kara’s wrist that catches Laura’s eye, and she touches it gently. “Did you hurt yourself?” Her voice sounds rough and scratchy to her ears. Her mother’s voice, from those long-ago days in the sunny room in Caprica City General.
“No. Well, yes, but I meant to.” Kara’s fingers are soothing, slow, and there’s a part of Laura that always marvels at how peaceful the girl can be sometimes.
Laura worries. She’ll always worry, that there’s a part of this girl that has a death wish that she hides under bravado and passion, and so she tugs feebly at the bandage. “Show me.” And Kara, after a few moments of hesitation, does.
But the lines on Kara’s wrist are not the deep, red scores that Laura has feared. Instead, elegant black lines in a pattern that she almost recognises curve on the tender skin of Kara’s arm, and Laura traces them in wonder.
“What is it?”
And Kara’s eyes are wide and young and sorrowful as she answers. “It’s a laurel leaf. I needed something ... Laurel leaves are evergreen, you know? They never die.”
And the tears that start behind Laura’s eyes are immediate, and she pulls Kara down to kiss her, knowing that there’s nothing she can say to make it better.
*~*~*~*
Three days after her cure, and Kara’s hands are all over her and her lips can’t stop kissing Laura’s hair and forehead when Laura notices the bandage on Kara’s wrist again.
“You changed it?”
And this time, Kara peels off the bandage immediately, a wide smile on her face, and Laura sees the twining gracefulness of the stark leaves around the paleness of Kara’s arm. All the way around, and she looks up, questioningly, to Kara’s face.
And Kara smiles, that wide, Starbuck smile, and touches Laura’s cheek gently.
“It tried to beat you and you won. I had to change it. A crown of laurels. For victory.”
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Ghosts, Laura/Kara, PG
They both live in a world full of ghosts.
All those souls weighing down on Laura’s shoulders, both the living and the dead, haunt her at every turn, reminding her of their presence and their needs and their sad, disapproving voices. She can’t block them out. Won’t. But sometimes she needs to take a break, take a breath, so that she can plunge back into their grasp and keep on negotiating a path through their midst.
Kara’s ghosts are different. Their faces are clearer, less nebulous. Zak’s. Her mother’s. And she tries to hide her face in Laura’s shoulder and Laura’s chest so that she can’t see them, but they won’t let her go, and she knows it. But sometimes she can stave them off for just a little while.
Maybe that’s why they cling so hard to each other when things get quiet and the ghosts come out to play.
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Enigmatic, Laura/Kara, PG
Sometimes when Laura looks at Kara, for a moment, it’s no longer Kara she sees, but a being made of light and air. An angel, waiting, hovering, filling her with strength, pushing her onwards and onwards. She flies amongst the stars, seeking, searching, guiding Laura on the path she’s forging in her desperation to find humanity a new home. An angel who sweats, cries, laughs, fights, but an angel nonetheless. Laura doesn’t know what she did to deserve the gift of this guardian watching over her, but she touches Kara in gratitude every chance she gets, hoping that her kisses and her trust will be enough to thank her.
Kara keeps her secrets, and Laura won’t pry. She just watches in wonderment, and holds her tongue.
*~*~*~*
Sometimes when Kara looks at Laura, it’s like she sees past the mortal flesh and blood woman in front of her and can see who Laura really is. All her life, she’s worshipped Artemis and Aphrodite, attending temple when she can, praying to her figurines when she can’t. But suddenly, it’s Athena who holds her attention, in the guise of this red-headed goddess. She listens to Laura’s press conferences and hears the voice of wisdom in her, she watches Laura try to hold their little civilisation together with her bare hands, she bows her head to this patron of heroes and she whispers her prayers silently into her goddess’s skin at night.
She worships with everything that she has, but she keeps quiet. It’s Laura’s secret, and Kara will never tell.
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Untitled, Laura/Kara, PG, warning for death
Kara stands stoic, staring ahead of her, because that’s what she does. Somewhere inside, she’s screaming, ready to punch someone, but Laura made her promise and so she’s shaking with the effort of keeping it all inside, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.
Lee’s eyes are shining a little, and the Admiral’s voice is gruffer than she’s ever heard it, but none of them can be feeling what she’s feeling, like there’s no way the universe can really still be going now that laugh no longer exists. She’s been here before, but practice doesn’t make perfect in this case, and this is one thing she doesn’t want to be good at.
There should be choirs of angels, rending of clothes, something, anything but this quiet echoing room full of people shuffling their feet and clearing their throats and a box in the centre that holds Kara’s heart.
But there isn’t, and Kara stands stoic, watching as the doors close and Laura drifts out into the stars, waiting for the moment she can go back to her bunk, drown herself in a bottle of whiskey and try not to join her.
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*dies*
*revives*
Those pictures of Mary, and of Mary and Jamie, at the TNT Upfronts are the Best Thing Ever.
*dies again*
I managed to dredge out of my brain two A/R ficlets and, totally randomly and out of nowhere (and it's all down to letterstonorah who is insanely persuasive and so much fun to get all excited with) FOUR Laura/Kara ficlets. IDEK. I didn't even ship them until, like, Tuesday. The other THIRTY FIVE Laura/Kara ficlets were Norah's.
I DO however have a lot of new prompts for my other ships too now. I have Laura/Lee ideas popping out of my ears, but there was no point writing them for the challenge because I couldn't have competed, so I stuck with the ships that stood a chance.
Anyhow. Here for posterity. The first one is kinda rubbish. The Sammy A/R ficlet is a scene from a much longer Laura&Sam crack fic (but yes, it's A/R really), so that might well get finished at some point.
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Things Bill Adama Knows, A/R, PG
This is what Bill Adama knows.
That he has loved Laura Roslin since the day that he was born. Since before she was born. Since the day the universe burst into being and the stars formed and the first inkling of life began.
That there has always been a Laura-shaped space in his heart, waiting for her to fill it, and though it has taken him sixty years to recognise it for the gaping hole that it is, that takes nothing away from the fact that it has always been there, just waiting, biding its time for her to step into it and make him whole.
That she will leave him, and when she leaves him, he will crumble in on himself around that hole, because his heart is so used to being supported by her body and her mind and her soul that it doesn’t know how to prop itself up without her anymore. That she’s the strong one, and always has been, no matter that her body is so fragile. That it seems impossible that she cannot command her body to heal itself simply by the strength of her will, and have the universe fall into place around her desires.
This is what Bill Adama knows.
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Frakkin' Sam, A/R, PG13
Admiral’s Quarters
Battlestar Galactica
Bill wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her right. They’d been having a quiet dinner together, talking about the problems with the lack of new supplies for ship repairs, and discussing a book she’d borrowed from him, and he’d been admiring her legs in his favourite skirt and hoping she was in a good enough mood for a bit of fun before she had to go back to Colonial One because it had been a while since they’d had the chance, and then his brain caught up with his ears and he spluttered.
“Say that again?”
“Sam Anders is organising a pyramid tournament and I’m going to be on his team.” She took a delicate bite of the algae-based concoction that passed for dinner that evening, somehow making it look edible.
“What?! Tell me you’re joking, Laura.” She had to be joking. Didn’t she?
She shook her head, putting her fork down and looking at him. “No, I’m not joking. It’s a good idea, it’ll boost morale. And Sam wants me on his team and I want to play.”
(Tall, handsome, young) Sam Anders wanted Laura on his team. Bill just bet he did. All that touching (with those arms) and tackling (and those muscles) and team talks (whispering and giggling and huddled away together) and Laura in a tight little pyramid strip (and team showers? Oh gods, team showers. And post-game rubdowns. Zeus’ balls!) and ...
She was snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Bill?”
He glowered at her. She and Mr Anders had been far too friendly for his liking back on New Caprica, with all those dinner invitations with Kara and cosy chats and going for walks and messing about on the pyramid courts together, while he’d been stuck on Galactica half the time. Granted, when he wasn’t on Galactica, he was usually in Laura’s bed, but Anders had been on the planet all the time. And gods only knew what had gone on in the four months after he’d jumped away and Kara had been locked away in that house. Laura was very circumspect about the whole thing. Ok, so he knew they’d been blowing up cylons and getting thrown in detention most of the time, but there was always comfort frakking? Wasn’t there? Anders would have had to be mad to pass up the chance. And it was obvious he and Kara had been having problems recently. And now Laura wanted to get all cosy with him again. Playing pyramid?
He wasn’t happy about this. Wasn’t happy at all.
“What?” She was frowning at him.
“It’s inappropriate, Laura.” Maybe he could talk her out of it. And then suggest a little one-on-one practice of their own...
“Do you not think I’ve thought it through? Maybe back on Caprica, it would have been inappropriate for a president to do something like this, but there’s less than forty thousand of us left, Bill, and people need to see that I’m as human as they are. I’ve lived alongside these people. Taught their children, washed my clothes alongside them, showered alongside them ... take that look off your face, it’s not like I had a choice ... so a few games of pyramid aren’t going to ruin my reputation, are they? And anyway, if it’s alright for you to get up in the ring and get yourself beaten bloody, then it’s alright ...”
She was leaning forward a little, making her points, and that blouse was the white crossover one that he liked, and ...
“Bill?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, for frak’s sake. I’m playing, and that’s that.” And the expression on her face said that arguing with her about it wasn’t going to get him anywhere except the couch. On his own.
“Well ... I want to play too. You and I can set our own team up.” There was an idea. Then he could provide the team showers and the rubdowns.
She shook her head a little. “No can do, Bill. We need to use your starboard flight deck for the courts because it’s the only place big enough to fill with spectators, and I’m going to ask Saul to be the referee, so you need to stay out of it. You need to be neutral so we don’t get any accusations of bias. Anyhow, that moustache is against regulations for pyramid. Sam told me.” She picked up her glass of water, smirking a little at him over the top of it.
Frakkin’ Sam told her. Frakkin’ Sam wanting him kept out of it. Frakkin’ Sam trying to get Laura all to himself.
“Well, you shouldn’t be on Anders’ team, Laura.”
“Why not?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Uh...” Because he’s young and has that six-pack and those arms and he likes to drape them around your shoulders and you giggle when he does ... “Because ...”
Dammit. There must be dozens of reasons it was a bad idea other than that, surely?
She looked at him pointedly for a long moment, before speaking slowly, as though he was a five year old. “I’m going to play pyramid, Bill. I’m going to be on Sam’s team, Bill. And you can stop being such a big baby about it, Bill. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely. And now I need to be getting back to my shuttle.”
And she got up, packing her papers back into her bag, ruffled his hair and then went to the hatch and opened it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Admiral.” And then she was gone, leaving just a trace of her perfume on the air.
Frakkin’ Sam ruining his perfectly planned seduction. Frakkin’ Sam.
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Daphne, Laura/Kara, PG
The first time Laura sees it, it’s one of her bad days, where her legs are like jelly and her muscles ache, and she’s had to ask Billy to postpone all her meetings until tomorrow in the hopes, small as they are, that she’ll feel better. One of those messages was to Kara, who, in true Kara Thrace fashion, arrived on the next raptor shuttle. And now, here they are, in Laura’s bedroom, Laura’s head against Kara’s thigh, Kara’s fingers stroking through Laura’s hair. Mostly in silence. There’s not much more to say.
It’s the bandage on Kara’s wrist that catches Laura’s eye, and she touches it gently. “Did you hurt yourself?” Her voice sounds rough and scratchy to her ears. Her mother’s voice, from those long-ago days in the sunny room in Caprica City General.
“No. Well, yes, but I meant to.” Kara’s fingers are soothing, slow, and there’s a part of Laura that always marvels at how peaceful the girl can be sometimes.
Laura worries. She’ll always worry, that there’s a part of this girl that has a death wish that she hides under bravado and passion, and so she tugs feebly at the bandage. “Show me.” And Kara, after a few moments of hesitation, does.
But the lines on Kara’s wrist are not the deep, red scores that Laura has feared. Instead, elegant black lines in a pattern that she almost recognises curve on the tender skin of Kara’s arm, and Laura traces them in wonder.
“What is it?”
And Kara’s eyes are wide and young and sorrowful as she answers. “It’s a laurel leaf. I needed something ... Laurel leaves are evergreen, you know? They never die.”
And the tears that start behind Laura’s eyes are immediate, and she pulls Kara down to kiss her, knowing that there’s nothing she can say to make it better.
*~*~*~*
Three days after her cure, and Kara’s hands are all over her and her lips can’t stop kissing Laura’s hair and forehead when Laura notices the bandage on Kara’s wrist again.
“You changed it?”
And this time, Kara peels off the bandage immediately, a wide smile on her face, and Laura sees the twining gracefulness of the stark leaves around the paleness of Kara’s arm. All the way around, and she looks up, questioningly, to Kara’s face.
And Kara smiles, that wide, Starbuck smile, and touches Laura’s cheek gently.
“It tried to beat you and you won. I had to change it. A crown of laurels. For victory.”
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Ghosts, Laura/Kara, PG
They both live in a world full of ghosts.
All those souls weighing down on Laura’s shoulders, both the living and the dead, haunt her at every turn, reminding her of their presence and their needs and their sad, disapproving voices. She can’t block them out. Won’t. But sometimes she needs to take a break, take a breath, so that she can plunge back into their grasp and keep on negotiating a path through their midst.
Kara’s ghosts are different. Their faces are clearer, less nebulous. Zak’s. Her mother’s. And she tries to hide her face in Laura’s shoulder and Laura’s chest so that she can’t see them, but they won’t let her go, and she knows it. But sometimes she can stave them off for just a little while.
Maybe that’s why they cling so hard to each other when things get quiet and the ghosts come out to play.
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Enigmatic, Laura/Kara, PG
Sometimes when Laura looks at Kara, for a moment, it’s no longer Kara she sees, but a being made of light and air. An angel, waiting, hovering, filling her with strength, pushing her onwards and onwards. She flies amongst the stars, seeking, searching, guiding Laura on the path she’s forging in her desperation to find humanity a new home. An angel who sweats, cries, laughs, fights, but an angel nonetheless. Laura doesn’t know what she did to deserve the gift of this guardian watching over her, but she touches Kara in gratitude every chance she gets, hoping that her kisses and her trust will be enough to thank her.
Kara keeps her secrets, and Laura won’t pry. She just watches in wonderment, and holds her tongue.
*~*~*~*
Sometimes when Kara looks at Laura, it’s like she sees past the mortal flesh and blood woman in front of her and can see who Laura really is. All her life, she’s worshipped Artemis and Aphrodite, attending temple when she can, praying to her figurines when she can’t. But suddenly, it’s Athena who holds her attention, in the guise of this red-headed goddess. She listens to Laura’s press conferences and hears the voice of wisdom in her, she watches Laura try to hold their little civilisation together with her bare hands, she bows her head to this patron of heroes and she whispers her prayers silently into her goddess’s skin at night.
She worships with everything that she has, but she keeps quiet. It’s Laura’s secret, and Kara will never tell.
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Untitled, Laura/Kara, PG, warning for death
Kara stands stoic, staring ahead of her, because that’s what she does. Somewhere inside, she’s screaming, ready to punch someone, but Laura made her promise and so she’s shaking with the effort of keeping it all inside, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.
Lee’s eyes are shining a little, and the Admiral’s voice is gruffer than she’s ever heard it, but none of them can be feeling what she’s feeling, like there’s no way the universe can really still be going now that laugh no longer exists. She’s been here before, but practice doesn’t make perfect in this case, and this is one thing she doesn’t want to be good at.
There should be choirs of angels, rending of clothes, something, anything but this quiet echoing room full of people shuffling their feet and clearing their throats and a box in the centre that holds Kara’s heart.
But there isn’t, and Kara stands stoic, watching as the doors close and Laura drifts out into the stars, waiting for the moment she can go back to her bunk, drown herself in a bottle of whiskey and try not to join her.
----------
*dies*
*revives*
Those pictures of Mary, and of Mary and Jamie, at the TNT Upfronts are the Best Thing Ever.
*dies again*