[fic] Five Times She Doesn’t Want Him; or, Psychological Definitions
Rating: R for implied sexual situations
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Spoilers: Not really speculation for S3: I'm just making stuff up as I go along.
Summary: But she’s Starbuck, it would never do to let him see remorse, and anyway she thinks she can make him smile in ten seconds.
Disclaimer: Just playing in RDM's 'verse.
A/N: For
wisteria_, for being endlessly amusing. I promised K/A/L in exchange for her 50 sentences with
trinnifer. This is not quite that fic! But much love, anyway. *huggles*
(definitions from the Psychology Dictionary)
[Five Times She Doesn’t Want Him; or, Psychological Definitions]
Kara wanders down to the quad to watch a game of satellite. She’d ask if they need another, but she turned her ankle yesterday.
One of the players catches her eye. Not tall; but well-defined. The light slides on his shoulders like oil on water. She almost forgets to watch the progress of the game. It’s not his main game, she can tell, he’s got a little more muscle than the average player, but he runs like Atalanta and has some excellent feints. She’ll have to remember those moves for pyramid.
A pair of strong arms catches her around the waist and spins her around. Before she can catch her breath she’s entangled in a kiss wilder than it is accurate. Laughter. “Hey, gorgeous!”
It’s a little risky - they’re not that far from the Academy, people might recognize a cadet and his flight instructor - but then, she’s always been envious of Zak’s openness, the lack of walls behind his eyes. So she’s off-balance already when a new voice comes over her shoulder. “Zak!” The shock of seeing pale eyes in a deeply tanned face is almost as visceral as realizing that she’s been ogling her future brother-in-law for the last ten minutes.
The ship bucks beneath her, as if buffeted by a storm, but she has the trick of it now. She loosens her grip on the throttle and flies a few test circuits.
Starbuck, where are you? Starbuck, do you hear me? Starbuck!
Dualla comes on, her voice still even: No dradis contact. Kara prepares to come back around and line up with Lee’s Viper when she hears the crack in his voice.
- Kara, are you okay?
Her heart catches in her throat - he’s never been so emotional on an open comm. Must’ve really scared him. Idiot man. But she’s Starbuck, it would never do to let him see remorse, and anyway she thinks she can make him smile in ten seconds. So she fires her thrusters and switches on her helmet light.
Of course you lost contact. It's a damned stealth ship, remember?
He laughs, and she counts another win.
Sam breaks away from the kiss to trail down her stomach, wander between her thighs. She closes her eyes as his tongue darts into her, sighing in anticipation, when suddenly she feels a second pair of hands close on her wrists. Her eyes fly open to find him leaning over her.
“Kara. Let go,” Lee says, and bends to kiss her.
She gasps, waking herself, and jackknifes out of bed even as she grabs her coat. Stalks outside and stands looking about for invisible stars, hugging herself.
“What’s up?”
She turns her head but won’t look at Sam, afraid her dream will be in her eyes. “I dreamed you were a Cylon.”
“Oh, babe.” He comes closer and she doesn’t flinch; after a moment he puts his arms around her, loosely. “It’s cold out here. Come back to bed.”
“There were two of you,” she mutters, molding the dream into something she can bear.
“Did we keep you satisfied?” She glares at him, pulling away, and he tries to draw her back in. “Okay, it was a bad joke.”
For a moment she won’t budge. Looks up at the sky again. “Something’s coming. I feel it.”
Something inside her promises, I’m coming.
Amid the chaos, the smoke and the fighting, somehow she ends up on a Raptor to Pegasus, and Anders on one to Galactica. She supposes she should worry abut accompanying his remains - after all, they never got a divorce - but she’s never cared much about the aftermath and anyway, she’s exhausted.
She’s huddled in a corner of the hangar amidst other refugees, too tired to request space in the pilots’ quarters, when she hears his voice. Looks up from the ruins of her marriage, another planet lost, and she would like nothing more than to throw herself down next to him and sleep dreamlessly for two days. She wonders why that should seem so comforting, when they’ve always been sparring partners.
He disappears down the corridor, footsteps echoing. He looks a little odd but her brain is too fuzzy to puzzle out why. It’s not long before someone - a nugget, by the looks of her - taps her shoulder and leads her to an unoccupied bunk. As she slides into sleep she thinks, He got fat, and drifts off thinking of new nicknames for him.
She saunters through the hatch, hoping he’s still awake. He glances up at her loud entry and she reads the fatigue in his posture, the lines at his temples. But his smile is open and gentle, for her.
“Starbuck, haven’t you ever heard of covert operations?”
“What? It’s not like you’re sleeping.”
“And even if I was, I wouldn’t be after the way you clomp around this place,” he says, putting his arms around her as she comes to perch on his lap.
“You need me to keep you on your toes,” she wrinkles her nose at him, and in response he places a hand over her face, shaking gently in mock reprimand. She sticks her tongue out, meeting the inside of his palm. “Ew,” he says, and withdraws his hand.
“Helo told me to make sure the Old Man makes his rounds at the end of this cycle. Says the new recruits are getting restless, need a good glaring-at.”
“And?”
“He means you, not the Admiral.” She waits for him to take the bait and when he does, starts shrieking even before his fingers find her sides.
“I am not old!” he growls, slowly but surely pinning her arms to her sides, and her body between the desk and his chest. “Take it back,” he orders, and she can feel the vibration resonate in her belly.
“Make me,” she laughs, and tips her chin up to delay his kiss one extra second. She doesn’t count on him pinioning her wrists in one hand, or him sliding his other hand past her waistband to conduct his own form of teasing. He’s very thorough, and she’s not really struggling. When he lets up, a few minutes later, she is sprawled ungracefully across his legs and half the desk.
“You were saying?”
She takes a moment to lick her lips and brace one elbow against the table. “Old,” she says. “But definitely not past your prime.”
He takes the hint, and she’s not disappointed.
~ fin ~
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Spoilers: Not really speculation for S3: I'm just making stuff up as I go along.
Summary: But she’s Starbuck, it would never do to let him see remorse, and anyway she thinks she can make him smile in ten seconds.
Disclaimer: Just playing in RDM's 'verse.
A/N: For
wisteria_, for being endlessly amusing. I promised K/A/L in exchange for her 50 sentences with
trinnifer. This is not quite that fic! But much love, anyway. *huggles*
(definitions from the Psychology Dictionary)
[Five Times She Doesn’t Want Him; or, Psychological Definitions]
- Approach-Approach Conflict
Kara wanders down to the quad to watch a game of satellite. She’d ask if they need another, but she turned her ankle yesterday.
One of the players catches her eye. Not tall; but well-defined. The light slides on his shoulders like oil on water. She almost forgets to watch the progress of the game. It’s not his main game, she can tell, he’s got a little more muscle than the average player, but he runs like Atalanta and has some excellent feints. She’ll have to remember those moves for pyramid.
A pair of strong arms catches her around the waist and spins her around. Before she can catch her breath she’s entangled in a kiss wilder than it is accurate. Laughter. “Hey, gorgeous!”
It’s a little risky - they’re not that far from the Academy, people might recognize a cadet and his flight instructor - but then, she’s always been envious of Zak’s openness, the lack of walls behind his eyes. So she’s off-balance already when a new voice comes over her shoulder. “Zak!” The shock of seeing pale eyes in a deeply tanned face is almost as visceral as realizing that she’s been ogling her future brother-in-law for the last ten minutes.
- Object Permanence
The ship bucks beneath her, as if buffeted by a storm, but she has the trick of it now. She loosens her grip on the throttle and flies a few test circuits.
Starbuck, where are you? Starbuck, do you hear me? Starbuck!
Dualla comes on, her voice still even: No dradis contact. Kara prepares to come back around and line up with Lee’s Viper when she hears the crack in his voice.
- Kara, are you okay?
Her heart catches in her throat - he’s never been so emotional on an open comm. Must’ve really scared him. Idiot man. But she’s Starbuck, it would never do to let him see remorse, and anyway she thinks she can make him smile in ten seconds. So she fires her thrusters and switches on her helmet light.
Of course you lost contact. It's a damned stealth ship, remember?
He laughs, and she counts another win.
- Hallucination
Sam breaks away from the kiss to trail down her stomach, wander between her thighs. She closes her eyes as his tongue darts into her, sighing in anticipation, when suddenly she feels a second pair of hands close on her wrists. Her eyes fly open to find him leaning over her.
“Kara. Let go,” Lee says, and bends to kiss her.
She gasps, waking herself, and jackknifes out of bed even as she grabs her coat. Stalks outside and stands looking about for invisible stars, hugging herself.
“What’s up?”
She turns her head but won’t look at Sam, afraid her dream will be in her eyes. “I dreamed you were a Cylon.”
“Oh, babe.” He comes closer and she doesn’t flinch; after a moment he puts his arms around her, loosely. “It’s cold out here. Come back to bed.”
“There were two of you,” she mutters, molding the dream into something she can bear.
“Did we keep you satisfied?” She glares at him, pulling away, and he tries to draw her back in. “Okay, it was a bad joke.”
For a moment she won’t budge. Looks up at the sky again. “Something’s coming. I feel it.”
Something inside her promises, I’m coming.
- Displacement
Amid the chaos, the smoke and the fighting, somehow she ends up on a Raptor to Pegasus, and Anders on one to Galactica. She supposes she should worry abut accompanying his remains - after all, they never got a divorce - but she’s never cared much about the aftermath and anyway, she’s exhausted.
She’s huddled in a corner of the hangar amidst other refugees, too tired to request space in the pilots’ quarters, when she hears his voice. Looks up from the ruins of her marriage, another planet lost, and she would like nothing more than to throw herself down next to him and sleep dreamlessly for two days. She wonders why that should seem so comforting, when they’ve always been sparring partners.
He disappears down the corridor, footsteps echoing. He looks a little odd but her brain is too fuzzy to puzzle out why. It’s not long before someone - a nugget, by the looks of her - taps her shoulder and leads her to an unoccupied bunk. As she slides into sleep she thinks, He got fat, and drifts off thinking of new nicknames for him.
- Obsession
She saunters through the hatch, hoping he’s still awake. He glances up at her loud entry and she reads the fatigue in his posture, the lines at his temples. But his smile is open and gentle, for her.
“Starbuck, haven’t you ever heard of covert operations?”
“What? It’s not like you’re sleeping.”
“And even if I was, I wouldn’t be after the way you clomp around this place,” he says, putting his arms around her as she comes to perch on his lap.
“You need me to keep you on your toes,” she wrinkles her nose at him, and in response he places a hand over her face, shaking gently in mock reprimand. She sticks her tongue out, meeting the inside of his palm. “Ew,” he says, and withdraws his hand.
“Helo told me to make sure the Old Man makes his rounds at the end of this cycle. Says the new recruits are getting restless, need a good glaring-at.”
“And?”
“He means you, not the Admiral.” She waits for him to take the bait and when he does, starts shrieking even before his fingers find her sides.
“I am not old!” he growls, slowly but surely pinning her arms to her sides, and her body between the desk and his chest. “Take it back,” he orders, and she can feel the vibration resonate in her belly.
“Make me,” she laughs, and tips her chin up to delay his kiss one extra second. She doesn’t count on him pinioning her wrists in one hand, or him sliding his other hand past her waistband to conduct his own form of teasing. He’s very thorough, and she’s not really struggling. When he lets up, a few minutes later, she is sprawled ungracefully across his legs and half the desk.
“You were saying?”
She takes a moment to lick her lips and brace one elbow against the table. “Old,” she says. “But definitely not past your prime.”
He takes the hint, and she’s not disappointed.
~ fin ~