BSG fic WIP: Through the Years, 2/30?
Title: Through the Years, part 2 of 30(?)
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: PG-13, this installment
Word count: 1,254
Focus: Karl Agathon and Kara Thrace, pre-series
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, please don’t sue.
Author’s note: Written for poisontaster as part of the Sweet Charity fandom auction. Thank you, lee_in_limbo, for the beta.
---------------------------
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
Karl looked up from his notes to glare at Kara, who tossed a Pyramid ball against the dorm room wall again and again. Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze back to his notes on Colonial history, written hurriedly yet with painstaking detail. Gods, he hated history! The present was so much more interesting. Finally he found his place on the page - the origins of Colonial Day - and then…
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
“Dammit, Kara.” He slammed his pen down in the clear spot to the right of his stack of notes. And then he watched it roll, gaining momentum, until it dropped to the floor with enough of a bounce to take it out of easy reach. He glared at it.
Kara merely raised one brow and continued bouncing the ball at the same pace as before. “Feel better now, Karl?”
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
“The test in the morning is worth half our grade.” He sighed. He’d have to crawl under the desk to retrieve the pen. Frak it. It wasn’t like he needed to write anything anyway, he just had to read. And read. And then read some more.
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
The ball hit him on the shoulder - “Hey!” - and veered off at a tangent, away from both Kara and Karl.
“I’m bored,” Kara announced.
“No frakkin’ shit.” He rubbed at his shoulder, pretending more pain than he actually felt.
Kara straightened from her slumped position on his bed, dropping her feet to the floor. “Let’s go to the Flight Line.”
Karl leaned back in his chair and twisted around to look at her. “The Flight Line.” They had less than twelve hours until one of their most important mid-term exams and Kara wanted to go out drinking.
“Gods, Karl.” She pushed up from the bed and started toward him. “You are such a killjoy.”
“It’s my job.” He watched her approach with suspicion. A bored Kara Thrace could be a bit… unpredictable, if entertaining.
She pulled his chair the rest of the way out from beneath the desk and straddled him, trapping his legs and draping her arms over his shoulders. “I’m bored, Karl,” she repeated, her voice softer, and leaned into him so that he’d have to move his head back or get a faceful of her throat and collarbones. Which normally wasn’t a problem, but that exam… He breathed in the scent of her skin without meaning to and before he could stop himself, he nuzzled at her neck. He certainly didn’t prolong the moment. And he definitely didn’t open his mouth and trail his tongue along the smooth line of her nape until a soft sound escaped her lips.
“Dammit, Kara.” He pushed her away and she stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the desk before she fell to the floor, even as Karl reached out to catch her. She pulled away from him and headed past his roommate’s bed, toward the door.
“I thought you came over to study,” Karl called out.
Jacket in hand, she turned toward him. “I did. But I changed my mind.” She laid her hand on the doorknob, which turned under her hand. The door opened, hitting her in the back, and pushed her to the side. Turning away from Karl, she glared at the newcomer.
“Don’t you ever knock?”
Reilly, Karl’s roommate, looked at Kara as though she were some kind of insect. “What are you doing here, Thrace?” He hung his coat neatly on a peg by the door and sidestepped around Kara.
“Leaving.” Kara looked over at Karl. Karl looked at his history notes and at Reilly and back over to Kara, who shrugged into her jacket. “You coming, Karl?”
The prospect of studying anymore tonight was a sour taste in his mouth. The thought of studying with Reilly, whose fussiness could make the Gods weep in frustration, made his head start to pound. Frak it. History is only ten percent of the grade, he thought.
He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.
***
Kara felt a little bit guilty at pulling Karl away from his history notes. Not that she’d ever tell him that. And really, his scores on the simulators and at the firing range and his test scores in math and science put him near the top of their class. Even if he crashed and burned on the history part of the mid-term tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt him that much.
Still, she felt a little guilty. She drained her beer and stood up, steadying herself with one hand on the table and the other on the back of Karl’s chair. He looked up at her, a goofy grin on his face and she glanced at the nameless girl who sat beside him, hanging on his every word. Kara smirked at her friend and leaned in to whisper, “Play your cards right, Agathon, and you might get laid tonight after all.” He elbowed her in response and turned back to his groupie.
Kara winked at Jonas Chang, who had been on his way out of the dorms just ahead of Karl and Kara. They had talked him into going to the Flight Line with them and Chang had even bought the first pitcher of beer. Straightening, she turned and headed up to the bar. It was her turn to buy and she might as well do it now, since her own glass was empty and Chang’s wasn’t far behind.
The notes from a piano, lingering in the melody but staccato and harsh in the counter-melody, warred with the sound of the crowds cheering on the Picon Panthers, broadcast from several screens at the bar. The crowds won out as she drew further away from the piano, which was just as well. The tune the guy played was one she’d heard many times as a little girl, listening to her father as he practiced for hours on end. Thoughts of her father, long dead and gone, sobered her, which wasn’t at all what she wanted.
Leaning against the edge of the bar, she raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. Loud boos and jeers pulled her gaze to the screen above her head, where the Caprica Buccaneers had just scored a goal that had apparently tied the game in the last period, sending it into overtime. As she watched, one of the Panthers went down hard on the court, her leg below the knee at an odd angle and Kara felt a sympathetic jolt in her own knee. She grimaced at the remembered pain of the injury that had ended any thought she may have had at making it as a pro on the Pyramid circuit.
And suddenly, Kara no longer had the stomach for being there at all. Too many memories. Too many failures. The bartender finally came over to take her order, but rather than another pitcher of beer, she slapped her palm on the surface of the bar and said, “Gimme a bottle of Feist.” It wasn’t the cheapest ambrosia she could order, but neither was it the most expensive.
When she got back to the table, thoughts of the morning’s exams had clearly flown away from Karl’s head, replaced by a cute red-head who laughed at all of his dumbass jokes. Chang didn’t look too happy at being a third wheel either, and Kara cocked her head at him and held up the bottle of Feist. “Let’s blow this joint.”
TBC...
click here for chapter 3
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: PG-13, this installment
Word count: 1,254
Focus: Karl Agathon and Kara Thrace, pre-series
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, please don’t sue.
Author’s note: Written for poisontaster as part of the Sweet Charity fandom auction. Thank you, lee_in_limbo, for the beta.
---------------------------
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
Karl looked up from his notes to glare at Kara, who tossed a Pyramid ball against the dorm room wall again and again. Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze back to his notes on Colonial history, written hurriedly yet with painstaking detail. Gods, he hated history! The present was so much more interesting. Finally he found his place on the page - the origins of Colonial Day - and then…
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
“Dammit, Kara.” He slammed his pen down in the clear spot to the right of his stack of notes. And then he watched it roll, gaining momentum, until it dropped to the floor with enough of a bounce to take it out of easy reach. He glared at it.
Kara merely raised one brow and continued bouncing the ball at the same pace as before. “Feel better now, Karl?”
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
…bounce…
“The test in the morning is worth half our grade.” He sighed. He’d have to crawl under the desk to retrieve the pen. Frak it. It wasn’t like he needed to write anything anyway, he just had to read. And read. And then read some more.
…bounce…
…wait half-a-second…
The ball hit him on the shoulder - “Hey!” - and veered off at a tangent, away from both Kara and Karl.
“I’m bored,” Kara announced.
“No frakkin’ shit.” He rubbed at his shoulder, pretending more pain than he actually felt.
Kara straightened from her slumped position on his bed, dropping her feet to the floor. “Let’s go to the Flight Line.”
Karl leaned back in his chair and twisted around to look at her. “The Flight Line.” They had less than twelve hours until one of their most important mid-term exams and Kara wanted to go out drinking.
“Gods, Karl.” She pushed up from the bed and started toward him. “You are such a killjoy.”
“It’s my job.” He watched her approach with suspicion. A bored Kara Thrace could be a bit… unpredictable, if entertaining.
She pulled his chair the rest of the way out from beneath the desk and straddled him, trapping his legs and draping her arms over his shoulders. “I’m bored, Karl,” she repeated, her voice softer, and leaned into him so that he’d have to move his head back or get a faceful of her throat and collarbones. Which normally wasn’t a problem, but that exam… He breathed in the scent of her skin without meaning to and before he could stop himself, he nuzzled at her neck. He certainly didn’t prolong the moment. And he definitely didn’t open his mouth and trail his tongue along the smooth line of her nape until a soft sound escaped her lips.
“Dammit, Kara.” He pushed her away and she stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the desk before she fell to the floor, even as Karl reached out to catch her. She pulled away from him and headed past his roommate’s bed, toward the door.
“I thought you came over to study,” Karl called out.
Jacket in hand, she turned toward him. “I did. But I changed my mind.” She laid her hand on the doorknob, which turned under her hand. The door opened, hitting her in the back, and pushed her to the side. Turning away from Karl, she glared at the newcomer.
“Don’t you ever knock?”
Reilly, Karl’s roommate, looked at Kara as though she were some kind of insect. “What are you doing here, Thrace?” He hung his coat neatly on a peg by the door and sidestepped around Kara.
“Leaving.” Kara looked over at Karl. Karl looked at his history notes and at Reilly and back over to Kara, who shrugged into her jacket. “You coming, Karl?”
The prospect of studying anymore tonight was a sour taste in his mouth. The thought of studying with Reilly, whose fussiness could make the Gods weep in frustration, made his head start to pound. Frak it. History is only ten percent of the grade, he thought.
He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.
***
Kara felt a little bit guilty at pulling Karl away from his history notes. Not that she’d ever tell him that. And really, his scores on the simulators and at the firing range and his test scores in math and science put him near the top of their class. Even if he crashed and burned on the history part of the mid-term tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt him that much.
Still, she felt a little guilty. She drained her beer and stood up, steadying herself with one hand on the table and the other on the back of Karl’s chair. He looked up at her, a goofy grin on his face and she glanced at the nameless girl who sat beside him, hanging on his every word. Kara smirked at her friend and leaned in to whisper, “Play your cards right, Agathon, and you might get laid tonight after all.” He elbowed her in response and turned back to his groupie.
Kara winked at Jonas Chang, who had been on his way out of the dorms just ahead of Karl and Kara. They had talked him into going to the Flight Line with them and Chang had even bought the first pitcher of beer. Straightening, she turned and headed up to the bar. It was her turn to buy and she might as well do it now, since her own glass was empty and Chang’s wasn’t far behind.
The notes from a piano, lingering in the melody but staccato and harsh in the counter-melody, warred with the sound of the crowds cheering on the Picon Panthers, broadcast from several screens at the bar. The crowds won out as she drew further away from the piano, which was just as well. The tune the guy played was one she’d heard many times as a little girl, listening to her father as he practiced for hours on end. Thoughts of her father, long dead and gone, sobered her, which wasn’t at all what she wanted.
Leaning against the edge of the bar, she raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. Loud boos and jeers pulled her gaze to the screen above her head, where the Caprica Buccaneers had just scored a goal that had apparently tied the game in the last period, sending it into overtime. As she watched, one of the Panthers went down hard on the court, her leg below the knee at an odd angle and Kara felt a sympathetic jolt in her own knee. She grimaced at the remembered pain of the injury that had ended any thought she may have had at making it as a pro on the Pyramid circuit.
And suddenly, Kara no longer had the stomach for being there at all. Too many memories. Too many failures. The bartender finally came over to take her order, but rather than another pitcher of beer, she slapped her palm on the surface of the bar and said, “Gimme a bottle of Feist.” It wasn’t the cheapest ambrosia she could order, but neither was it the most expensive.
When she got back to the table, thoughts of the morning’s exams had clearly flown away from Karl’s head, replaced by a cute red-head who laughed at all of his dumbass jokes. Chang didn’t look too happy at being a third wheel either, and Kara cocked her head at him and held up the bottle of Feist. “Let’s blow this joint.”
TBC...
click here for chapter 3