[bsg] take a walk on the wildside
Title: Take A Walk On The Wildside
Spoilers: None!
Summary: Academy hijinks, in the realm of "Things That Never Happened To Kara And Lee."
Rating: PG-13
A/N: With thanks to pen, as per usual, and alanna.
*
Take A Walk On The Wildside
“Well, that was fun!” Kara says brightly, slouching against the wall of the alley and taking a drag of her cigarette. She can just make out Lee rolling his eyes in the faint light from a street lamp, and it only makes her smile wider.
“You are incorrigible.”
“Oh, big word there, Apollo. I’m impressed.”
“Not all of us have a vocabulary limited to three syllable words and profanities,” he says, and she reaches over and hits him. “Hey. Do you mind? I have enough bruises without you adding to the number.”
“You can’t blame me. I was just the cavalry tonight, and it was a good thing I was there to save your ass.”
“My ass needed no saving.”
“Whatever. What time is it?”
He checks his watch, then thunks his head back onto the wall. “You don’t want to know. Really.”
Kara laughs.
She’s one of the very few people at the Academy who knows exactly who Lee Adama really is. The rest of the population seem to be fooled by the golden boy, neat-collars, never-late-for-lectures persona he’s perfected through years of dedicated practice.
Everyone thinks she’s a bad influence on him. She’s not, exactly - she likes to tell herself she’s facilitating the process of Lee getting in touch with the primal warrior inside him, but in truth she has very little to do with it at all. Get Lee appropriately boozed and he’s a fight waiting to happen.
Or a frak, and she’s very used to both sides of him.
His knuckles are bleeding now, though, and she wonders idly what excuse he’ll come up with. Her classmates are used to her turning up with bruises, but Lee’s different.
“Wasn’t your best, Adama,” she says. He spares her a look, leans over and takes the cigarette out of her fingers. “I’d give you a six. Maybe a seven.”
She sees him roll his eyes again, and then he shoves off the wall and stands in front of her, raises his hand to her face and presses her skin lightly, just above her cheekbone. She winces.
“Frak, Lee. Stop it.”
“I think you’ve got a black eye.” He drops his hand and his gaze rakes over her, forehead to toes, lingering here and there. “I like it. Matches your shirt.”
“Thanks. I got it especially.”
He takes a long drag of her cigarette, chucks it aside and doesn’t bother grinding it out. Pushes her back into the wall instead, and she’d hit him but she’s been wanting him all night, all day, ever since she left his apartment that morning and she had to stare at the back of his head as he sat in the front row of McAllister’s lecture.
“Here?”
“Why not?”
She grins, then gasps as his lips graze her ear, her jaw. “Oh, you have so done this before.”
He chuckles, kisses her cheekbone softly. “Like you haven’t.”
“What are you waiting for, then?”
He stares at her for a moment, tongue coming out to wet his lips and she swallows. Sometimes she thinks she hates him for what he can do to her without even trying; she’s aching for him already and he’s barely touched her. Lee leans in slowly, as if he’s memorizing every second, and his kiss is sweet, so gentle she can’t stand it because she’ll fight with him, frak him, but she can’t let him feel anything more for her. She thinks, sometimes - on the few occasions she lets herself think about it, them, at all - that she cares far too much for him anyway. She’s tempting the Gods as it is.
So she rocks her hips into his, moans his name and sweet and gentle disappear as he pushes into her hard, hips pressing into hers, mouth teasing hers open and she whimpers, then winces because she’s Starbuck and she doesn’t whimper for anybody. Then his hands move around to the small of her back, fingers gentle, slipping underneath the waistband of her jeans and he sucks at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hard, until she knows she’s bruised. She doesn’t care.
He pushes off her slowly, drops his forehead to hers. “You know we have class in four hours.”
“Oh?” She leans forward, licks just above his collarbone.
“Kara - ”
“You said you’d done this before,” she says, sliding her hands down his chest to his belt buckle. “Not backing out?”
“I’ve changed my mind. It wasn’t particularly comfortable,” he says, brushing a hand down over her front, thumb stroking across her nipple and she locks her jaw against a gasp. “I’d rather do this somewhere else.”
“Did you have somewhere particular in mind?”
“My apartment is just around the corner.”
“Liar. Your apartment is at least four clicks away.”
“Always with your impeccable sense of direction.” His hips press into hers again, lightly, then harder. Then he steps away, just as she’s melting into him. “Coming?”
She gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”
She’ll get her own back once the door is shut behind them.
*
She crawls out of his bed an hour and a half before their first class, and does the walk of shame back to her dorm - his parents might be rich enough to afford an apartment, but she’s on a scholarship and it’s communal living for her. Her roommates don’t even ask where she’s been, although she sees Mexi eyeing her neck with a combination of disgust and jealousy, and Kara offers no explanations. She drinks a good half litre of water, tosses down some painkillers and takes a long, hot shower before throwing on jeans and a shirt, and walking as fast as her headache will let her across campus.
She’s five minutes late, and he’s there already, looking freshly pressed and starched and she slides in across from him, drops her tray the final inch onto the table just to see him flinch with the noise.
He looks up from his bacon and eggs and glances over her, eyes lingering on her neck. She’s deliberately wearing a low necked shirt that practically shows off her hickey and his skin colours - just slightly, but it’s enough, and she gives him her most innocent look, even flutters her lashes to add to the effect.
“Sleep well?” he asks casually.
“Not particularly. You?”
“Quite well. You’d be surprised what a good night of rest would do for you, Kara,” he tells her sweetly. It’s all she can do not to laugh.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They discuss the day's classes, the sims run planned for the afternoon, and it isn't until Zenith and Dozer get up from the table and leave them alone that the smirk she's been waiting for crosses his face.
He leans over, touches the bruise on her neck. "Nice."
"Thanks. Got it especially."
He laughs. "I do good work," he says slyly and glances down at his watch. "We've got twenty minutes. Want to pick up a coffee?"
"You're buying. You owe me."
His eyes fix on her neck, and he smirks again. "It was worth it," he says, and she rolls her eyes and follows him out into the sunshine.
*
Spoilers: None!
Summary: Academy hijinks, in the realm of "Things That Never Happened To Kara And Lee."
Rating: PG-13
A/N: With thanks to pen, as per usual, and alanna.
*
Take A Walk On The Wildside
“Well, that was fun!” Kara says brightly, slouching against the wall of the alley and taking a drag of her cigarette. She can just make out Lee rolling his eyes in the faint light from a street lamp, and it only makes her smile wider.
“You are incorrigible.”
“Oh, big word there, Apollo. I’m impressed.”
“Not all of us have a vocabulary limited to three syllable words and profanities,” he says, and she reaches over and hits him. “Hey. Do you mind? I have enough bruises without you adding to the number.”
“You can’t blame me. I was just the cavalry tonight, and it was a good thing I was there to save your ass.”
“My ass needed no saving.”
“Whatever. What time is it?”
He checks his watch, then thunks his head back onto the wall. “You don’t want to know. Really.”
Kara laughs.
She’s one of the very few people at the Academy who knows exactly who Lee Adama really is. The rest of the population seem to be fooled by the golden boy, neat-collars, never-late-for-lectures persona he’s perfected through years of dedicated practice.
Everyone thinks she’s a bad influence on him. She’s not, exactly - she likes to tell herself she’s facilitating the process of Lee getting in touch with the primal warrior inside him, but in truth she has very little to do with it at all. Get Lee appropriately boozed and he’s a fight waiting to happen.
Or a frak, and she’s very used to both sides of him.
His knuckles are bleeding now, though, and she wonders idly what excuse he’ll come up with. Her classmates are used to her turning up with bruises, but Lee’s different.
“Wasn’t your best, Adama,” she says. He spares her a look, leans over and takes the cigarette out of her fingers. “I’d give you a six. Maybe a seven.”
She sees him roll his eyes again, and then he shoves off the wall and stands in front of her, raises his hand to her face and presses her skin lightly, just above her cheekbone. She winces.
“Frak, Lee. Stop it.”
“I think you’ve got a black eye.” He drops his hand and his gaze rakes over her, forehead to toes, lingering here and there. “I like it. Matches your shirt.”
“Thanks. I got it especially.”
He takes a long drag of her cigarette, chucks it aside and doesn’t bother grinding it out. Pushes her back into the wall instead, and she’d hit him but she’s been wanting him all night, all day, ever since she left his apartment that morning and she had to stare at the back of his head as he sat in the front row of McAllister’s lecture.
“Here?”
“Why not?”
She grins, then gasps as his lips graze her ear, her jaw. “Oh, you have so done this before.”
He chuckles, kisses her cheekbone softly. “Like you haven’t.”
“What are you waiting for, then?”
He stares at her for a moment, tongue coming out to wet his lips and she swallows. Sometimes she thinks she hates him for what he can do to her without even trying; she’s aching for him already and he’s barely touched her. Lee leans in slowly, as if he’s memorizing every second, and his kiss is sweet, so gentle she can’t stand it because she’ll fight with him, frak him, but she can’t let him feel anything more for her. She thinks, sometimes - on the few occasions she lets herself think about it, them, at all - that she cares far too much for him anyway. She’s tempting the Gods as it is.
So she rocks her hips into his, moans his name and sweet and gentle disappear as he pushes into her hard, hips pressing into hers, mouth teasing hers open and she whimpers, then winces because she’s Starbuck and she doesn’t whimper for anybody. Then his hands move around to the small of her back, fingers gentle, slipping underneath the waistband of her jeans and he sucks at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hard, until she knows she’s bruised. She doesn’t care.
He pushes off her slowly, drops his forehead to hers. “You know we have class in four hours.”
“Oh?” She leans forward, licks just above his collarbone.
“Kara - ”
“You said you’d done this before,” she says, sliding her hands down his chest to his belt buckle. “Not backing out?”
“I’ve changed my mind. It wasn’t particularly comfortable,” he says, brushing a hand down over her front, thumb stroking across her nipple and she locks her jaw against a gasp. “I’d rather do this somewhere else.”
“Did you have somewhere particular in mind?”
“My apartment is just around the corner.”
“Liar. Your apartment is at least four clicks away.”
“Always with your impeccable sense of direction.” His hips press into hers again, lightly, then harder. Then he steps away, just as she’s melting into him. “Coming?”
She gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”
She’ll get her own back once the door is shut behind them.
*
She crawls out of his bed an hour and a half before their first class, and does the walk of shame back to her dorm - his parents might be rich enough to afford an apartment, but she’s on a scholarship and it’s communal living for her. Her roommates don’t even ask where she’s been, although she sees Mexi eyeing her neck with a combination of disgust and jealousy, and Kara offers no explanations. She drinks a good half litre of water, tosses down some painkillers and takes a long, hot shower before throwing on jeans and a shirt, and walking as fast as her headache will let her across campus.
She’s five minutes late, and he’s there already, looking freshly pressed and starched and she slides in across from him, drops her tray the final inch onto the table just to see him flinch with the noise.
He looks up from his bacon and eggs and glances over her, eyes lingering on her neck. She’s deliberately wearing a low necked shirt that practically shows off her hickey and his skin colours - just slightly, but it’s enough, and she gives him her most innocent look, even flutters her lashes to add to the effect.
“Sleep well?” he asks casually.
“Not particularly. You?”
“Quite well. You’d be surprised what a good night of rest would do for you, Kara,” he tells her sweetly. It’s all she can do not to laugh.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They discuss the day's classes, the sims run planned for the afternoon, and it isn't until Zenith and Dozer get up from the table and leave them alone that the smirk she's been waiting for crosses his face.
He leans over, touches the bruise on her neck. "Nice."
"Thanks. Got it especially."
He laughs. "I do good work," he says slyly and glances down at his watch. "We've got twenty minutes. Want to pick up a coffee?"
"You're buying. You owe me."
His eyes fix on her neck, and he smirks again. "It was worth it," he says, and she rolls her eyes and follows him out into the sunshine.
*