FIC: Conventional Ethics (1/1) RPS/BSG
TITLE: Conventional Ethics
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Jamie Bamber/Kara Thrace
RATING: R
SUMMARY: You meet a lot of interesting people
DISCLAIMER: Jamie Bamber belong only to himself. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended. Battlestar Galactica and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For pali167
Jamie’s too fucking tired for all of this, and he wonders if this is the rest of his life laid out before him. Not that he minds the fans, really. It’s just the demands on his time, pulling him away from the family he sees too little of already. But he looks at Richard and the other people who have been on the science fiction circuit most of their lives, making their living from autograph signings and convention appearances and he doesn’t want that to be him in twenty years. Hell, he doesn’t want that to be him in five.
Still, this is what it is and it’s part of what he signed on for, and he can’t bite the hand that feeds him. He gnaws on it from time to time, but never enough to leave a mark that won’t fade soon enough. Rubbing his neck, he makes his way along the hotel corridors, dodging fans in costume and fans in considerably less, winding his way to the elevator and to his room. He has a bottle of single malt waiting for him, and a bed with five pillows that he can drown in and nothing sounds better than that right now.
“Excuse me.”
He stops, his gaze on the familiar boots before it travels up the flight suit. He frowns for a moment, his brow furrowed, and looks around. “Katee?” It’s Katee, he can see that. Not some con-goer dressed as Starbuck. The suit’s too good and the girl is too good. He’s worked alongside Katee for too long to mistake her for someone else. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is when he left the panel fifteen minutes ago, she was dressed in something that needed a bra and her hair was down past her shoulders not a flight suit with the close-cropped hair of the mini-series.
“Apollo? What the frak are you wearing?”
“I’m…Apollo? C’mon, Katee, I’m too tired for this.”
“My name is Lieutenant Kara Thrace, sir.” She straightens and he almost laughs, because even if she were Kara, there’s no way she’d call him sir - call Apollo sir - voluntarily.
Either way, he’s too tired and in too much need of a drink to fight with her. “Okay, Kara. Well, I’m going back to my room. You want to come with me? Have a drink?”
“Why aren’t you in uniform?”
“I’ll…take that as a no.” He moves around her and keeps walking, digging his key card out of his pocket. He can sense her still behind him, and it bothers him that he knows Katee this well, both in and out of character. Which is why he doesn’t think about things like that, especially alone in a hotel with Katee just down the hall.
“Ambrosia?”
“Single malt.” She makes a face that he’d swear was confusion. “Just…come on, okay? If you don’t, all the little fanboys are going to be all over you like flies on shit.”
“Why are you talking like that? Like Baltar?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Katee, I’m so not in the mood for this. Do you want a drink or not?”
“Je…who? What? What the frak is wrong with you, Lee?” She follows him and he realizes that her weapon isn’t peace-banded, and pretty soon someone’s going to come along in an overzealous fit of convention authority and try to do something stupid, and if Katee’s intent on playing Kara, then she’s going to put at least one person in the infirmary.
He grabs her wrist and pushes her into the room in front of him, making sure no one’s watching as he closes the door. He rakes a hand through his hair and reminds himself that this is a bad idea, taking it up as a mantra as he makes his way to the bottle and the glasses. “Drink?”
She’s staring at the bed, casting little sidelong glances at him. Jamie ignores her and pours them both a healthy shot and passes her the glass. She eyes it suspiciously until he swallows his down and then, never one to be outdone, she tosses hers back. Tears spring into her eyes and he fights the urge to smile. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, swallowing several times. Jamie watches, telling himself he needs to look away, but instead he just keeps his eyes on her as he refills her glass. “That’s…what the frak is that?”
“Scotch. Single malt. Damn good stuff.” He taps the bottle against her glass then refills his own as she downs the second like it was water. Jamie sips his this time, unable to look away as she licks her lips and then the rim of her glass. “More?”
“You trying to get me drunk, Apollo?”
“Would I do that?” Maybe it’s a game she’s decided she wants to play, or maybe it’s another way to pretend - Kara’s not real so nothing else is either. Or hell, maybe he’s gone fucking crazy.
“No.” She comes over to him, taking the bottle of scotch and topping off his glass and refilling her own. “You wouldn’t. You’re a good guy, Lee. By the book, by the rules. Straighten up and fly right.” She lifts her glass to his lips and tilts it, watching him carefully as he opens his mouth and lets some of the amber liquid slide down, feeling a few drops trickle against his lip and toward his chin. “Of course, right now, you aren’t looking or acting like the Apollo I know.”
“No?”
She shakes her head and sets the glass aside, leaning in to catch the drops of scotch with her tongue. Jamie tries to muffle the groan, but he can tell she hears it by the way her hands slide up his body, the way her mouth moves to his. “We can’t do this, Lee.”
“I know.” He kisses her back, tasting single malt and something sharp and burning, like ozone sparking. Kara - Katee - tugs his shirt from his jeans and pushes him back toward the bed and undresses him with his help, both of them fumbling with unfamiliar buttons and zippers until they’re stripped down and pressed against one another, finding positions they’re not supposed to know this well with each other. Jamie pushes inside her, and she’s surprisingly tight and so familiar and different all at once.
She’s hot and aggressive, hungry and there’s none of the usual reticence. She doesn’t hold anything back as she sucks and bites at his skin, arching up into him until he can hear the gasping breath echoing in his ears as she calls his name - no, calls Lee’s name, can feel the slick heat of her orgasm surround him. He comes, thrusting deep inside her. He breathes in her sweat and sucks on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, reveling in the sensations of her, the slide of skin on skin.
“Katee…”
“My name is Kara.” It’s slurred with booze and satisfaction, and he nods, not wanting to give this up. If she wants to play, he won’t argue.
“Kara…”
“Shut up, Lee.” She laughs softly and kisses him, wrapping her arms around him to hold him against her. “For once in your life, just do us both a favor and shut up.”
Jamie nods and shifts so she’s not completely supporting his weight. She smiles and closes her eyes. “Such a frakkin’ good guy, Lee.”
He looks down at her and shakes his head, even though she’s not watching him. “Not really, Kara.” He lays against her and closes his own eyes. “Not really at all.”
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Jamie Bamber/Kara Thrace
RATING: R
SUMMARY: You meet a lot of interesting people
DISCLAIMER: Jamie Bamber belong only to himself. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended. Battlestar Galactica and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For pali167
Jamie’s too fucking tired for all of this, and he wonders if this is the rest of his life laid out before him. Not that he minds the fans, really. It’s just the demands on his time, pulling him away from the family he sees too little of already. But he looks at Richard and the other people who have been on the science fiction circuit most of their lives, making their living from autograph signings and convention appearances and he doesn’t want that to be him in twenty years. Hell, he doesn’t want that to be him in five.
Still, this is what it is and it’s part of what he signed on for, and he can’t bite the hand that feeds him. He gnaws on it from time to time, but never enough to leave a mark that won’t fade soon enough. Rubbing his neck, he makes his way along the hotel corridors, dodging fans in costume and fans in considerably less, winding his way to the elevator and to his room. He has a bottle of single malt waiting for him, and a bed with five pillows that he can drown in and nothing sounds better than that right now.
“Excuse me.”
He stops, his gaze on the familiar boots before it travels up the flight suit. He frowns for a moment, his brow furrowed, and looks around. “Katee?” It’s Katee, he can see that. Not some con-goer dressed as Starbuck. The suit’s too good and the girl is too good. He’s worked alongside Katee for too long to mistake her for someone else. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is when he left the panel fifteen minutes ago, she was dressed in something that needed a bra and her hair was down past her shoulders not a flight suit with the close-cropped hair of the mini-series.
“Apollo? What the frak are you wearing?”
“I’m…Apollo? C’mon, Katee, I’m too tired for this.”
“My name is Lieutenant Kara Thrace, sir.” She straightens and he almost laughs, because even if she were Kara, there’s no way she’d call him sir - call Apollo sir - voluntarily.
Either way, he’s too tired and in too much need of a drink to fight with her. “Okay, Kara. Well, I’m going back to my room. You want to come with me? Have a drink?”
“Why aren’t you in uniform?”
“I’ll…take that as a no.” He moves around her and keeps walking, digging his key card out of his pocket. He can sense her still behind him, and it bothers him that he knows Katee this well, both in and out of character. Which is why he doesn’t think about things like that, especially alone in a hotel with Katee just down the hall.
“Ambrosia?”
“Single malt.” She makes a face that he’d swear was confusion. “Just…come on, okay? If you don’t, all the little fanboys are going to be all over you like flies on shit.”
“Why are you talking like that? Like Baltar?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Katee, I’m so not in the mood for this. Do you want a drink or not?”
“Je…who? What? What the frak is wrong with you, Lee?” She follows him and he realizes that her weapon isn’t peace-banded, and pretty soon someone’s going to come along in an overzealous fit of convention authority and try to do something stupid, and if Katee’s intent on playing Kara, then she’s going to put at least one person in the infirmary.
He grabs her wrist and pushes her into the room in front of him, making sure no one’s watching as he closes the door. He rakes a hand through his hair and reminds himself that this is a bad idea, taking it up as a mantra as he makes his way to the bottle and the glasses. “Drink?”
She’s staring at the bed, casting little sidelong glances at him. Jamie ignores her and pours them both a healthy shot and passes her the glass. She eyes it suspiciously until he swallows his down and then, never one to be outdone, she tosses hers back. Tears spring into her eyes and he fights the urge to smile. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, swallowing several times. Jamie watches, telling himself he needs to look away, but instead he just keeps his eyes on her as he refills her glass. “That’s…what the frak is that?”
“Scotch. Single malt. Damn good stuff.” He taps the bottle against her glass then refills his own as she downs the second like it was water. Jamie sips his this time, unable to look away as she licks her lips and then the rim of her glass. “More?”
“You trying to get me drunk, Apollo?”
“Would I do that?” Maybe it’s a game she’s decided she wants to play, or maybe it’s another way to pretend - Kara’s not real so nothing else is either. Or hell, maybe he’s gone fucking crazy.
“No.” She comes over to him, taking the bottle of scotch and topping off his glass and refilling her own. “You wouldn’t. You’re a good guy, Lee. By the book, by the rules. Straighten up and fly right.” She lifts her glass to his lips and tilts it, watching him carefully as he opens his mouth and lets some of the amber liquid slide down, feeling a few drops trickle against his lip and toward his chin. “Of course, right now, you aren’t looking or acting like the Apollo I know.”
“No?”
She shakes her head and sets the glass aside, leaning in to catch the drops of scotch with her tongue. Jamie tries to muffle the groan, but he can tell she hears it by the way her hands slide up his body, the way her mouth moves to his. “We can’t do this, Lee.”
“I know.” He kisses her back, tasting single malt and something sharp and burning, like ozone sparking. Kara - Katee - tugs his shirt from his jeans and pushes him back toward the bed and undresses him with his help, both of them fumbling with unfamiliar buttons and zippers until they’re stripped down and pressed against one another, finding positions they’re not supposed to know this well with each other. Jamie pushes inside her, and she’s surprisingly tight and so familiar and different all at once.
She’s hot and aggressive, hungry and there’s none of the usual reticence. She doesn’t hold anything back as she sucks and bites at his skin, arching up into him until he can hear the gasping breath echoing in his ears as she calls his name - no, calls Lee’s name, can feel the slick heat of her orgasm surround him. He comes, thrusting deep inside her. He breathes in her sweat and sucks on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, reveling in the sensations of her, the slide of skin on skin.
“Katee…”
“My name is Kara.” It’s slurred with booze and satisfaction, and he nods, not wanting to give this up. If she wants to play, he won’t argue.
“Kara…”
“Shut up, Lee.” She laughs softly and kisses him, wrapping her arms around him to hold him against her. “For once in your life, just do us both a favor and shut up.”
Jamie nods and shifts so she’s not completely supporting his weight. She smiles and closes her eyes. “Such a frakkin’ good guy, Lee.”
He looks down at her and shakes his head, even though she’s not watching him. “Not really, Kara.” He lays against her and closes his own eyes. “Not really at all.”