Brand new sheets, lets break them in...
Easy yo. A few days ago I asked for some *ahem* quickfire prompts to get my juices flowing. Turns out I'm rustier than I thought, but I have written things! The second one got too long for an LJ comment so am posting it properly, with like a title and everything.
Title: Underneath our feathered skin
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating PG - (sorry, I thought it might end up a little different but it just wasn't happening)
Author's notes: Written for sci_fi_shipper's prompt Kara/Lee, folding laundry. The title comes from a Slow Club song called Apples and Pears which I have been listening to a lot, and which kind of inspired this piece. I'm not the happiest with the ending, it just wouldn't go any further, and it needed to be away from me.
Fleet standard issue uniform packs contain five days worth of clean clothes. Five pairs of pants, five sets of tanks, five pairs of socks, five pairs of underwear. Clothes are sent to the laundry every fourth morning on a fixed schedule and are returned on the fifth evening and the whole thing begins again.
Lee always folds and puts away his laundry as soon as it comes in; it's good practice, it sets an example for his pilots, it prevents any of his gear from going mysteriously “astray”, not to mention that it's regs.
He is meticulously folding his tanks and laying them in a neat pile in his locker when he hears Kara's footsteps and her soft but not-so-soft-that-he-can't-hear-it snort of derision as she clocks his activity.
“Something the matter Starbuck?” Lee asks, not bothering to turn around, knowing if he does he'll see her rifling through her own laundry pack for the only thing she cares about.
“Nothing at all, Lee.” She hums, she's smiling he can tell. “You're just soooo predictable.”
He rolls his eyes, folds another shirt and lays it atop the pile.
“There's nothing wrong with adhering to a routine Kara, it's helpful, and there's also nothing wrong with putting your things away, just so you know.” The implication is heavy in his tone, and is met with another snort and the sound of clothes being tossed onto the table in the centre of the room.
“Besides, it's not like you're so difficult to predict.” He tells her, picturing her even as he speaks reaching her arm as far down into the duffel bag as it will go, one eye squinting, tongue shifted to one side as she feels around for her treasure. And when he turns around, sure enough it is that picture that he is greeted with.
Lee cocks his eyebrows and tilts his head to one side as if to say busted. Kara rolls her eyes at him and then grins in triumph as she finds what she was searching for.
“Aha!” She cries and pulls the item from the bottom of the pack.
A clean grey sheet emerges crumpled and glorious in her hand as she raises it above her head and pulls it entirely from the bag, grin still in place. In a moment that Lee almost feels should be conducted in complete privacy, Kara brings the sheet to her nose and inhales deeply, eyes closing in what approximates bliss these days and sighs, light and warm. Her entire body relaxes, shoulders fall loose, the tension in her neck just floats away, even the smile on her face gets less tight.
Lee clears his throat and shifts on his feet, Kara opens her eyes serenely and smiles at him slow and sweet.
“The good stuff?” He asks, voice catching slightly.
“No ambrosia in the world can compare to this.” She tells him gleefully and shakes out the sheet with a flick of her wrists, spinning on the balls of her feet and setting to making her bed. Lee chuckles as she swiftly folds corners and tucks them under the mattress.
He turns back and folds his last shirt, places it carefully in his locker and closes the door just as Kara lets out a gutteral groan of pleasure that really should be reserved solely for sexual situations. Lee takes a breath, then another, he almost doesn't want to turn around. But he does, he can't not.
Kara is spread out on her rack, limbs stretched as far as they can go, palms flat against the material, fingers stroking back and forth, blissful smile on her face.
“It can't possibly be that good.” He says and she gives him a look like he'll never understand exactly how good it can be. “Come on Starbuck, we all get new sheets every week and no one else experiences this semi-orgasmic state of bliss that you seem to fall under whenever you put them on.”
“Semi?” Kara raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, Lee shakes his head and laughs a little. “Look, it's simple, I'm the only one who puts them on while they're still warm. It makes all the difference.”
Lee coughs and shifts at the lascivious turn her voice has taken and tries not to watch the pulse in her throat as she lets her eyes fall closed and her head tip back. It should be illegal, just standing there watching her, and he should really stop.
He clears his throat again and starts folding the clothes she had strewn across the table while looking for her sheet.
“I'll have to try it sometime.” He's focusing on the pile he's making, everything the same size and thickness.
“Frak that!” Kara says emphatically, and he shifts his gaze back to her rack. She pats the space beside her with her palm and smiles in that devious way that is only Starbuck and only trouble. He shouldn't go to her. He does it anyway.
He sits down cautiously on the edge of her rack and Kara rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder, pulling him down beside her. The sheet is still warm; the scent of the laundry detergent and that fragrant dust that accumulates in dryers fills his nose, and the skin on his arms and the back of his neck starts to pucker with gooseflesh. He shivers, that full bodied kind of shiver that happens when you lie in the sun on a cool day, your skin heating faster than your insides and sending a spark around all of your nerve endings.
It feels like a long lost memory, hazy and soft and yet so familiar, and Lee sinks into it with a sigh, a smile on his lips that feels strange, like he's forgotten what the real ones feel like.
“This...is nice.” He murmurs after a long moment of just luxuriating in it, the warmth and the softness and the smell. He feels Kara nod her head beside him.
“Better than folding all your clothes and putting them away for sure.” She affirms wryly, like it had always been obvious and he was an idiot for not seeing it sooner. He doesn't care, she was right, and he's too relaxed to care about scoring points right now.
“Yep.” He agrees, digging his heels into the mattress and rolling his shoulders, he wants to climb inside this thing and live in there where it's warm and safe and soft. He turns his palms flat down onto the sheet and spreads out his fingers, tracing the threads in the cotton, letting his skin absorb the warmth. It really does feel marvellous.
The clang of the hatch sounds and his heart sinks into the floor below them. He hadn't thought about the fact that he was going to have to get up. He sighs heavily as the hatch swings open and he can hear Hot Dog and Duck as they step through into the bunk room. Lee presses his palms down into the mattress to lever himself up but is stopped by Kara's right arm crossing his body, her left hand
laying sloppily across his lips to keep him quiet as she quickly pulls the curtain shut, closing them in.
He quirks an eyebrow at her and she flashes a grin, shifting the hand on his mouth so that only her index finger lays across his lips. ssshhh
Inside the cocoon of her rack, the air is fragrant; the laundry and dust from the heating vent and Kara, her skin, her breath, her socks which are not fresh. Lee breathes it in and out, looks her in the eyes, he is feeling slightly giddy, she is grinning at him, she is only trouble.
“Ka-” he starts and she shushes him, her finger on his lips pressing down until his mouth is misshapen and he laughs, softly, pulling her hand away, grasping it in his own. She pouts and he laughs again, “Kara,” he whispers in deference to her hushing him, “We can't just stay here.”
“Says who?” She's grinning again, shifting her weight up onto her elbow, bringing her face level with his. They are eye to eye, so close he can hardly focus, his gaze flicks from her left eye to her right, to her smiling mouth to the tuft of hair sticking out from behind her ear and then back to her eyes again. Hers remains steady, she looks only at him, straight in the eyes, dark and determined, wolfish.
It occurs to him now that this, all of this, since the moment they first met, has been nothing more than an elaborate game of chess. A game that he had lost in the first move, the second she had opened the door to her apartment back on Caprica, it's three years and countless moves later but he realises now that he was never even in the game. And so he kisses her, because he's tired of this stalemate they have going on, he surrenders.
And then he discovers the funniest thing: in this instance, losing feels an awful lot like winning.
Title: Underneath our feathered skin
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating PG - (sorry, I thought it might end up a little different but it just wasn't happening)
Author's notes: Written for sci_fi_shipper's prompt Kara/Lee, folding laundry. The title comes from a Slow Club song called Apples and Pears which I have been listening to a lot, and which kind of inspired this piece. I'm not the happiest with the ending, it just wouldn't go any further, and it needed to be away from me.
Fleet standard issue uniform packs contain five days worth of clean clothes. Five pairs of pants, five sets of tanks, five pairs of socks, five pairs of underwear. Clothes are sent to the laundry every fourth morning on a fixed schedule and are returned on the fifth evening and the whole thing begins again.
Lee always folds and puts away his laundry as soon as it comes in; it's good practice, it sets an example for his pilots, it prevents any of his gear from going mysteriously “astray”, not to mention that it's regs.
He is meticulously folding his tanks and laying them in a neat pile in his locker when he hears Kara's footsteps and her soft but not-so-soft-that-he-can't-hear-it snort of derision as she clocks his activity.
“Something the matter Starbuck?” Lee asks, not bothering to turn around, knowing if he does he'll see her rifling through her own laundry pack for the only thing she cares about.
“Nothing at all, Lee.” She hums, she's smiling he can tell. “You're just soooo predictable.”
He rolls his eyes, folds another shirt and lays it atop the pile.
“There's nothing wrong with adhering to a routine Kara, it's helpful, and there's also nothing wrong with putting your things away, just so you know.” The implication is heavy in his tone, and is met with another snort and the sound of clothes being tossed onto the table in the centre of the room.
“Besides, it's not like you're so difficult to predict.” He tells her, picturing her even as he speaks reaching her arm as far down into the duffel bag as it will go, one eye squinting, tongue shifted to one side as she feels around for her treasure. And when he turns around, sure enough it is that picture that he is greeted with.
Lee cocks his eyebrows and tilts his head to one side as if to say busted. Kara rolls her eyes at him and then grins in triumph as she finds what she was searching for.
“Aha!” She cries and pulls the item from the bottom of the pack.
A clean grey sheet emerges crumpled and glorious in her hand as she raises it above her head and pulls it entirely from the bag, grin still in place. In a moment that Lee almost feels should be conducted in complete privacy, Kara brings the sheet to her nose and inhales deeply, eyes closing in what approximates bliss these days and sighs, light and warm. Her entire body relaxes, shoulders fall loose, the tension in her neck just floats away, even the smile on her face gets less tight.
Lee clears his throat and shifts on his feet, Kara opens her eyes serenely and smiles at him slow and sweet.
“The good stuff?” He asks, voice catching slightly.
“No ambrosia in the world can compare to this.” She tells him gleefully and shakes out the sheet with a flick of her wrists, spinning on the balls of her feet and setting to making her bed. Lee chuckles as she swiftly folds corners and tucks them under the mattress.
He turns back and folds his last shirt, places it carefully in his locker and closes the door just as Kara lets out a gutteral groan of pleasure that really should be reserved solely for sexual situations. Lee takes a breath, then another, he almost doesn't want to turn around. But he does, he can't not.
Kara is spread out on her rack, limbs stretched as far as they can go, palms flat against the material, fingers stroking back and forth, blissful smile on her face.
“It can't possibly be that good.” He says and she gives him a look like he'll never understand exactly how good it can be. “Come on Starbuck, we all get new sheets every week and no one else experiences this semi-orgasmic state of bliss that you seem to fall under whenever you put them on.”
“Semi?” Kara raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, Lee shakes his head and laughs a little. “Look, it's simple, I'm the only one who puts them on while they're still warm. It makes all the difference.”
Lee coughs and shifts at the lascivious turn her voice has taken and tries not to watch the pulse in her throat as she lets her eyes fall closed and her head tip back. It should be illegal, just standing there watching her, and he should really stop.
He clears his throat again and starts folding the clothes she had strewn across the table while looking for her sheet.
“I'll have to try it sometime.” He's focusing on the pile he's making, everything the same size and thickness.
“Frak that!” Kara says emphatically, and he shifts his gaze back to her rack. She pats the space beside her with her palm and smiles in that devious way that is only Starbuck and only trouble. He shouldn't go to her. He does it anyway.
He sits down cautiously on the edge of her rack and Kara rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder, pulling him down beside her. The sheet is still warm; the scent of the laundry detergent and that fragrant dust that accumulates in dryers fills his nose, and the skin on his arms and the back of his neck starts to pucker with gooseflesh. He shivers, that full bodied kind of shiver that happens when you lie in the sun on a cool day, your skin heating faster than your insides and sending a spark around all of your nerve endings.
It feels like a long lost memory, hazy and soft and yet so familiar, and Lee sinks into it with a sigh, a smile on his lips that feels strange, like he's forgotten what the real ones feel like.
“This...is nice.” He murmurs after a long moment of just luxuriating in it, the warmth and the softness and the smell. He feels Kara nod her head beside him.
“Better than folding all your clothes and putting them away for sure.” She affirms wryly, like it had always been obvious and he was an idiot for not seeing it sooner. He doesn't care, she was right, and he's too relaxed to care about scoring points right now.
“Yep.” He agrees, digging his heels into the mattress and rolling his shoulders, he wants to climb inside this thing and live in there where it's warm and safe and soft. He turns his palms flat down onto the sheet and spreads out his fingers, tracing the threads in the cotton, letting his skin absorb the warmth. It really does feel marvellous.
The clang of the hatch sounds and his heart sinks into the floor below them. He hadn't thought about the fact that he was going to have to get up. He sighs heavily as the hatch swings open and he can hear Hot Dog and Duck as they step through into the bunk room. Lee presses his palms down into the mattress to lever himself up but is stopped by Kara's right arm crossing his body, her left hand
laying sloppily across his lips to keep him quiet as she quickly pulls the curtain shut, closing them in.
He quirks an eyebrow at her and she flashes a grin, shifting the hand on his mouth so that only her index finger lays across his lips. ssshhh
Inside the cocoon of her rack, the air is fragrant; the laundry and dust from the heating vent and Kara, her skin, her breath, her socks which are not fresh. Lee breathes it in and out, looks her in the eyes, he is feeling slightly giddy, she is grinning at him, she is only trouble.
“Ka-” he starts and she shushes him, her finger on his lips pressing down until his mouth is misshapen and he laughs, softly, pulling her hand away, grasping it in his own. She pouts and he laughs again, “Kara,” he whispers in deference to her hushing him, “We can't just stay here.”
“Says who?” She's grinning again, shifting her weight up onto her elbow, bringing her face level with his. They are eye to eye, so close he can hardly focus, his gaze flicks from her left eye to her right, to her smiling mouth to the tuft of hair sticking out from behind her ear and then back to her eyes again. Hers remains steady, she looks only at him, straight in the eyes, dark and determined, wolfish.
It occurs to him now that this, all of this, since the moment they first met, has been nothing more than an elaborate game of chess. A game that he had lost in the first move, the second she had opened the door to her apartment back on Caprica, it's three years and countless moves later but he realises now that he was never even in the game. And so he kisses her, because he's tired of this stalemate they have going on, he surrenders.
And then he discovers the funniest thing: in this instance, losing feels an awful lot like winning.