Fic: "Thank You?" -- BSG, PG, 462 words
A little ficlet thing. Written during chemistry, as per the usual :P
Title: Thank You?
Author: Anne (starsouls1013)
Fandom: BSG
Rating: PG
Words: 462
Characters: Kara and Lee. A dash of Kara/Lee.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Starbuck takes too many risks. Her CAG doesn't approve.
Feedback is loved and squished and loved some more :)
"Starbuck, I know you get excited, but frak..." Lee stops, takes a breath. His voice drops, in pitch and volume. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there."
Her smile is breezy, Starbuck-may-care. "So what else is new?" She attempts to brush past him, a hot shower her target, lock and fire.
His hand stops her. No force behind it, he wouldn't be that stupid (she's on a post-flying high, who knows what she'll do) but it stops her, right in her tracks. This is different from the usual scolding, CAG-to-pilot. Well, CAG-to-Starbuck, 'cause it's always her, isn't it? She turns and meets his baby blues (there's a hint of grey in there, like Viper metal internalized) head on, eyebrows raised.
"We killed the bastards, didn't we captain? I do believe that is the point." Her smirk is comfortable, impertinent, but she's starting to sense something different here. His hand on her arm (why hasn't he moved it yet?) vibrates with tension, tension that should be draining in the wake of the fight but which, instead, seems to be building in intensity.
"Kara, you're the best pilot I--" He halts, eyes flicking down, then forges onwards "--we have. You can't go risking your frakking neck on every mission!" Now his voice is an intense hiss, a shout filtered through clenched teeth.
The smirk fades from her face, replaced by a stubborn crease of her forehead, and anyone in their right mind would head for the hills at the sight. But Lee Adama is never in his right mind around Kara.
Sure enough: "I'm sorry, sir, if my antics were a little unconventional. Saved your ass, didn't I? Tore up a couple Cylons into tiny pieces, too, so why don't you just thank me and get over it?" She's right in his face, eyes sparking. A large clear area has mysteriously formed around them, deckhands conveniently deciding Starbuck's Viper can wait.
His hand is still on her arm, burning through her flight suit.
She looks for the hardening of his eyes, the way his jaw sets as he's winding up for another showdown. Starbuck vs. Apollo, every week, get your tickets now!
But not this time. He bears her tirade, eyes shuttered, shoulders dropping slightly. His voice is quiet, rough. "Thank you? Thank you for almost depriving me of the only person I've got left?" He just looks at her, a little bit broken, then turns and walks out of the hangar bay.
Kara doesn't notice the bemused silence surrounding her, the sweaty hair falling in her eyes, the thrumming of her pulse. She only notices that Lee Adama - her confident, brilliant, dignified Lee Adama - looks like a lost little boy. Like he did the day of the funeral.
Title: Thank You?
Author: Anne (starsouls1013)
Fandom: BSG
Rating: PG
Words: 462
Characters: Kara and Lee. A dash of Kara/Lee.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Starbuck takes too many risks. Her CAG doesn't approve.
Feedback is loved and squished and loved some more :)
"Starbuck, I know you get excited, but frak..." Lee stops, takes a breath. His voice drops, in pitch and volume. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there."
Her smile is breezy, Starbuck-may-care. "So what else is new?" She attempts to brush past him, a hot shower her target, lock and fire.
His hand stops her. No force behind it, he wouldn't be that stupid (she's on a post-flying high, who knows what she'll do) but it stops her, right in her tracks. This is different from the usual scolding, CAG-to-pilot. Well, CAG-to-Starbuck, 'cause it's always her, isn't it? She turns and meets his baby blues (there's a hint of grey in there, like Viper metal internalized) head on, eyebrows raised.
"We killed the bastards, didn't we captain? I do believe that is the point." Her smirk is comfortable, impertinent, but she's starting to sense something different here. His hand on her arm (why hasn't he moved it yet?) vibrates with tension, tension that should be draining in the wake of the fight but which, instead, seems to be building in intensity.
"Kara, you're the best pilot I--" He halts, eyes flicking down, then forges onwards "--we have. You can't go risking your frakking neck on every mission!" Now his voice is an intense hiss, a shout filtered through clenched teeth.
The smirk fades from her face, replaced by a stubborn crease of her forehead, and anyone in their right mind would head for the hills at the sight. But Lee Adama is never in his right mind around Kara.
Sure enough: "I'm sorry, sir, if my antics were a little unconventional. Saved your ass, didn't I? Tore up a couple Cylons into tiny pieces, too, so why don't you just thank me and get over it?" She's right in his face, eyes sparking. A large clear area has mysteriously formed around them, deckhands conveniently deciding Starbuck's Viper can wait.
His hand is still on her arm, burning through her flight suit.
She looks for the hardening of his eyes, the way his jaw sets as he's winding up for another showdown. Starbuck vs. Apollo, every week, get your tickets now!
But not this time. He bears her tirade, eyes shuttered, shoulders dropping slightly. His voice is quiet, rough. "Thank you? Thank you for almost depriving me of the only person I've got left?" He just looks at her, a little bit broken, then turns and walks out of the hangar bay.
Kara doesn't notice the bemused silence surrounding her, the sweaty hair falling in her eyes, the thrumming of her pulse. She only notices that Lee Adama - her confident, brilliant, dignified Lee Adama - looks like a lost little boy. Like he did the day of the funeral.