BSG Fic - "Returns" - Laura Roslin/Kara Thrace - Rated: MA - 1000 words
Title: Return
Author: mermaidfangs
Characters/Pairings: Laura Roslin/Kara Thrace
Summary: Kara returns from tour. Kind of a not quite finished sequel to She's Not There, though it's not necessary to have read that.
Rating: MA
Warnings: None
Length: 1000 words
Halloween Meme Present for astreamofstars.
Kara catches sight of Laura over by baggage claim, sitting on the edge of the carousel, hands folded neatly in her lap. Laura’s got on a jacket and the scarf Kara knit her for Solstice last year, the one that’s all misshapen and oblong and riddled with missed stitches.
Kara shoves past a few people on the escalator, jogging down the steps. Guidelines dictate that she act in a becoming fashion when dressed in uniform, but it’s been months since she’s seen Laura’s face, if that means trampling a first-grader and a couple businessmen, then so frakking be it.
Laura looks up, spots Kara. Her face, gods, her face, her smile and her nose and her lips and the colour of her cheeks. Swallowing, Kara tries to pull herself together. She will not sprint to the carousel. Nope, nope, nope. She walks calmly. She walks like, whatever. She walks like, la-dee-dah, no fucks to be given here. It’s all very dignified. Normal, unexcited, chill walking-more of a patient stroll, really.
But then a few people step in front of her, presumably on their way to get bags, and as she weaves through them, she thinks vaguely about getting out her sidearm, because they are in her way, godsdamnit, and blocking Laura’s face.
“Hi,” Kara says, when she’s in speaking distance. Laura stands up, hand up, like she’s waving or wants Kara to give her a high-five or something.
“Come here, you,” Laura says, and grabs Kara by the hem of her uniform jacket, pulls her near. Kara keeps her hands at her sides, worried that if she touches Laura even a little bit, she won’t be able to keep it under control.
Their foreheads touch as they lean into each other. Laura’s warm and beautiful and sweet. Her hair tickles Kara’s cheeks, and her lips are right there.
“Is it okay if I kiss you right now or is that too much PDA?” Kara says, her hands shoved in the pocket of her trousers.
Laura weaves her fingers up Kara’s side, under her jacket, under her tanks, resting them at her waist. “Gods yes please,” she says, so Kara leans in, slowly at first, placing her lips on Laura’s. They start out slowly and closed-mouthed, pecks that linger and scorch. Then Laura uses her tongue to part Kara’s lips, an it’s pretty much over for anything like being decent.
Kara wraps her arms around Laura and pulls her close, so their bodies are flush against each other. Her hand inches down beneath the waistband of Laura’s trousers, and it’s only when she’s about to go beneath her knickers that Laura pulls back.
“Let’s go home,” Laura says, a little breathless.
Kara grabs her duffel from the carousel and slings it over her shoulder, wraps her free arm around Laura’s waist.
“I like your hair,” Laura says as they step into her car.
Kara rubs her scalp, buzzed short, then laughs. “Don’t lie. You hate it. I lost a bet.”
It’s cold inside the transport so Laura adjusts the heat. “I don’t, not at all. It suits you. Reminds me of before.”
Before, yes, the last time Kara cut off all her hair.
Kara reaches her hand over and squeezes Laura’s thigh. “Missed you,” she says. “And thank you for all your letters. Sorry for any I didn’t respond to. I didn’t always have a lot of time.”
“I know,” Laura says. “It’s all right.”
“I thought-there’s something I should tell you,” Kara starts, but then stops. The vent blows heat onto her hands, the air too hot, and she fiddles with the filter.
Laura is silent in the driver seat, eyes on the road, her palms wrapped around either side of the steering wheel. “It’s fine,” says Laura. “We were apart a long time. I’d just rather not know the specifics, okay?” She changes lanes to get off the highway, stops at a red light on the service road.
“Laura.”
“Like I said, it’s fine.”
Kara shuts off the radio humming quietly in the background, turns a little. “Laura, I didn’t fuck anyone else. The closest I came to fucking was jacking off thinking about you, like, all the time, everyday. What I wanted to tell you is that as of Monday I am officially discharged.”
Kara tries to read Laura’s face but can’t, so she fiddles with the pocket knife in her trousers.
“Dishonourably?” Laura asks, her voice cracking a little.
It had come close. Kara didn’t belong on a Battlestar, not anymore. She needed to be with Laura, taking care of her and making sure she didn’t do anything silly like skip her semiannual check-up. Laura left a lot out in her letters, but Kara knew how to pickup on all the unsaids. There’d been one message, “Went to the doctor. They’re running a few tests. Everything’s fine, just wanted to give you an update,” that nearly had Kara commandeering a Raptor and jumping back to Caprica. Everything had been fine, but still.
“No,” says Kara. “Honourably. But I’m still jobless.”
“So no more tours?” Laura asks.
“No more tours,” says Kara.
Laura grabs Kara’s hand and holds it firmly. “Good.”
It is oddly quiet, their togetherness. Kara expected fireworks and explosions and pulling off on the side of the road to lick each other off.
But they settle onto the bed, instead, undress each other slowly and reverently. In preparation, Kara’d gotten herself off on the shuttle ride to Cap, so she wouldn’t be quite so sensitive and keyed up. But seeing Laura’s body sets her on edge again in no time.
Laura unbuttons her shirt shyly, and Kara watches, rapturous. She slips her fingers into her briefs and rubs her clit as she takes in the sight of Laura’s nakedness. Unable to resist any longer, Kara unzips Laura’s jeans and pulls them down, along with her knickers. “Spread,” Kara says. Laura’s slick, pale thighs part, and Kara touches her between her legs, getting her fingers wet.
Their kisses possess a sort of endlessness. They stroke and grab and rub each other’s bodies, melt into languid kisses, and finger each other’s clits-finishing each other off then starting again, swallowing each other’s moans.
It’s only in the wee hours, light approaching, the sheets soaked with sweat and come, that they manage to say I missed you. They hold each other so tight as they fall asleep that they’re sore and uncomfortable, but Kara can’t bring herself to let go, and neither can Laura.
Author: mermaidfangs
Characters/Pairings: Laura Roslin/Kara Thrace
Summary: Kara returns from tour. Kind of a not quite finished sequel to She's Not There, though it's not necessary to have read that.
Rating: MA
Warnings: None
Length: 1000 words
Halloween Meme Present for astreamofstars.
Kara catches sight of Laura over by baggage claim, sitting on the edge of the carousel, hands folded neatly in her lap. Laura’s got on a jacket and the scarf Kara knit her for Solstice last year, the one that’s all misshapen and oblong and riddled with missed stitches.
Kara shoves past a few people on the escalator, jogging down the steps. Guidelines dictate that she act in a becoming fashion when dressed in uniform, but it’s been months since she’s seen Laura’s face, if that means trampling a first-grader and a couple businessmen, then so frakking be it.
Laura looks up, spots Kara. Her face, gods, her face, her smile and her nose and her lips and the colour of her cheeks. Swallowing, Kara tries to pull herself together. She will not sprint to the carousel. Nope, nope, nope. She walks calmly. She walks like, whatever. She walks like, la-dee-dah, no fucks to be given here. It’s all very dignified. Normal, unexcited, chill walking-more of a patient stroll, really.
But then a few people step in front of her, presumably on their way to get bags, and as she weaves through them, she thinks vaguely about getting out her sidearm, because they are in her way, godsdamnit, and blocking Laura’s face.
“Hi,” Kara says, when she’s in speaking distance. Laura stands up, hand up, like she’s waving or wants Kara to give her a high-five or something.
“Come here, you,” Laura says, and grabs Kara by the hem of her uniform jacket, pulls her near. Kara keeps her hands at her sides, worried that if she touches Laura even a little bit, she won’t be able to keep it under control.
Their foreheads touch as they lean into each other. Laura’s warm and beautiful and sweet. Her hair tickles Kara’s cheeks, and her lips are right there.
“Is it okay if I kiss you right now or is that too much PDA?” Kara says, her hands shoved in the pocket of her trousers.
Laura weaves her fingers up Kara’s side, under her jacket, under her tanks, resting them at her waist. “Gods yes please,” she says, so Kara leans in, slowly at first, placing her lips on Laura’s. They start out slowly and closed-mouthed, pecks that linger and scorch. Then Laura uses her tongue to part Kara’s lips, an it’s pretty much over for anything like being decent.
Kara wraps her arms around Laura and pulls her close, so their bodies are flush against each other. Her hand inches down beneath the waistband of Laura’s trousers, and it’s only when she’s about to go beneath her knickers that Laura pulls back.
“Let’s go home,” Laura says, a little breathless.
Kara grabs her duffel from the carousel and slings it over her shoulder, wraps her free arm around Laura’s waist.
“I like your hair,” Laura says as they step into her car.
Kara rubs her scalp, buzzed short, then laughs. “Don’t lie. You hate it. I lost a bet.”
It’s cold inside the transport so Laura adjusts the heat. “I don’t, not at all. It suits you. Reminds me of before.”
Before, yes, the last time Kara cut off all her hair.
Kara reaches her hand over and squeezes Laura’s thigh. “Missed you,” she says. “And thank you for all your letters. Sorry for any I didn’t respond to. I didn’t always have a lot of time.”
“I know,” Laura says. “It’s all right.”
“I thought-there’s something I should tell you,” Kara starts, but then stops. The vent blows heat onto her hands, the air too hot, and she fiddles with the filter.
Laura is silent in the driver seat, eyes on the road, her palms wrapped around either side of the steering wheel. “It’s fine,” says Laura. “We were apart a long time. I’d just rather not know the specifics, okay?” She changes lanes to get off the highway, stops at a red light on the service road.
“Laura.”
“Like I said, it’s fine.”
Kara shuts off the radio humming quietly in the background, turns a little. “Laura, I didn’t fuck anyone else. The closest I came to fucking was jacking off thinking about you, like, all the time, everyday. What I wanted to tell you is that as of Monday I am officially discharged.”
Kara tries to read Laura’s face but can’t, so she fiddles with the pocket knife in her trousers.
“Dishonourably?” Laura asks, her voice cracking a little.
It had come close. Kara didn’t belong on a Battlestar, not anymore. She needed to be with Laura, taking care of her and making sure she didn’t do anything silly like skip her semiannual check-up. Laura left a lot out in her letters, but Kara knew how to pickup on all the unsaids. There’d been one message, “Went to the doctor. They’re running a few tests. Everything’s fine, just wanted to give you an update,” that nearly had Kara commandeering a Raptor and jumping back to Caprica. Everything had been fine, but still.
“No,” says Kara. “Honourably. But I’m still jobless.”
“So no more tours?” Laura asks.
“No more tours,” says Kara.
Laura grabs Kara’s hand and holds it firmly. “Good.”
It is oddly quiet, their togetherness. Kara expected fireworks and explosions and pulling off on the side of the road to lick each other off.
But they settle onto the bed, instead, undress each other slowly and reverently. In preparation, Kara’d gotten herself off on the shuttle ride to Cap, so she wouldn’t be quite so sensitive and keyed up. But seeing Laura’s body sets her on edge again in no time.
Laura unbuttons her shirt shyly, and Kara watches, rapturous. She slips her fingers into her briefs and rubs her clit as she takes in the sight of Laura’s nakedness. Unable to resist any longer, Kara unzips Laura’s jeans and pulls them down, along with her knickers. “Spread,” Kara says. Laura’s slick, pale thighs part, and Kara touches her between her legs, getting her fingers wet.
Their kisses possess a sort of endlessness. They stroke and grab and rub each other’s bodies, melt into languid kisses, and finger each other’s clits-finishing each other off then starting again, swallowing each other’s moans.
It’s only in the wee hours, light approaching, the sheets soaked with sweat and come, that they manage to say I missed you. They hold each other so tight as they fall asleep that they’re sore and uncomfortable, but Kara can’t bring herself to let go, and neither can Laura.