Fic: Lit Up
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: 18+ lesbians, sex, etc. Non-graphic.
Spoilers: er... Up through Final Cut.
Pairings: Starbuck/Dualla, Starbuck/Boomer, Starbuck/D'Anna
This's for voleuse. Sorry for the slight delay in posting.
Length: 1,600+ (I, er, ended up hitting all three prompts)
1. Scrounged
Dee was always good for extra things. The communications officer looked innocent and wholesome, but if you had the money, and you knew, she could get perks. For anyone. Galactica wasn't a bad ship for stores and supplies, but it wasn't the top of the line, and sometimes, things fell by the wayside.
Toiletries, specialty items, anything and everything. A bottle of talcum (which ended up all over Tigh's quarters, something no one had been punished for, as of yet), chocolates, perfumes and aftershaves. Special aphrodisiacs (not all of Galactica's crew were as proficient as rumored). Small things they forgot while on leave, or didn't bother buying on-planet, as dealing with Dee was simply easier.
Peach shampoo was hot for three weeks until Kill-Switch mocked Starbuck for smelling like a garden.
That brawl landed them both in hack with Tigh lecturing on Proper Pilot Conduct.
Kill-Switch listened (he hadn't learned yet); Starbuck did push-ups (neither had she, but it didn't matter).
"You never told me I smelled like a garden," Starbuck complained later.
"Maybe I like gardens."
Glaring at Dualla, Starbuck snorted.
The communications officer smilied and moved to straddle the pilot's lap. "Oh, come on, like you don't mind smelling nice."
"I do when it lands me in hack."
"Like that doesn't happen every other week, anyway," Dee said dryly, wiser than her apparent youth. She ducked her head and kissed Starbuck's nose.
"Anyway. Nice is over-rated."
"I like nice."
"Then what the frak are you doing with me?" Starbuck's hands closed on Dee's waist, fingers digging in slightly.
"Enjoying you being nice. On occasion."
"Only on occasion?"
"Mhmm." Dee chuckled at the calculation in Starbuck's eyes.
Starbuck began tickling Dee.
"Frak--" Unable to help it, Dualla began laughing, fighting back and attempting to break free of the marauding pilot. A moment later, she fell backwards and landed on her ass. Still laughing, she stared up at Kara. "You are such an ass."
Kara grinned and dropped backwards in her bunk, "Yeah."
Pushing herself up, Dee clambered in on top of Kara and kissed her. "I kinda like it."
"Mmm." Starbuck replied intelligently.
Darker arms tangled around Starbuck's pale shoulders, and for a time, the only sound was bodies moving against each, Kara mocking Dee for her inelegant landing, and then abruptly gasping in a way that made Dualla just a little smug. Then it was her turn to gasp and moan.
Unfortunately, even with the Galactica under-manned, there were still too many pilots sharing quarters.
Before they could settle into any sort of comfortableness, there was a bang on the door, and three of the younger ones bounced in, arguing about their latest maneuvers. Dee buried her head under the sheet while Kara snickered and climbed out to mock them all.
-=-
2. Trumped
"Fold."
"No."
Kara snorts and waves her cigar at Boomer. "Fold, damnit."
"No!" The rookie pilot sticks her tongue out, "I call."
The rest of the table groans, but the cards get laid down. Unsurprisingly, Starbuck has them all beat. She smirks as she rakes in the pile, "Tolja to fold, rook."
Rolling her eyes, Sharon tosses her cards at the dealer and props her chin on one hand. "You tell me lots of things, Starbuck."
So she does. Kara twirls her cigar and leans back in her chair. "Dealer?"
The smoke from Kara's cigar curls up, joining the smoke from Gaeta's cigarette, and the general haziness of people who've had too much to drink and not enough fresh air to breathe.
"Ante up, ante up!"
Chips hit the table with clinks, cards snap down with sure aim. One of the newest specialists was dealing, and Jammer had a fabulous flip of the wrist that a casino would've paid for. Sharon watches, counting cards, trying to keep up. To beat Starbuck at something.
She doesn't notice the time passing, but she does notice Kara. The tip of her tongue, sometimes, the way her eyes shift to carelessly watch the other players, and always that little smirk around the corners of her lips. As if she knows something no one else does. Maybe she does, considering how much she continues to win. Starbuck's unbeatable, someone told Sharon once.
Now, she's beginning to believe it.
Too many lost chips, too much ambrosia later, and (too easily) Sharon's leaning on Starbuck as they make their way back to their room. "You smell horrible," she mumbles.
Kara laughs, the sound raucous and amused. "You want someone smells like flowers, try Dualla."
"Maybe I will," Sharon mumbles. But she doesn't mean it. No more than she really means it when she says Starbuck stinks. It's just that Starbuck is so good at everything, and Sharon isn't.
They make it into the bunk room, and Kara abruptly lets her go to stagger to her own rack. She makes it in, sideways, and laughs softly as the if the room spinning is amusing.
Sharon eyes her a moment, then starts to move for her own rack when Kara's hand on her belt stops her. "Wait."
"What?"
A tug, but she resists. Kara's going to have to do more than tug, it shouldn't be up to Sharon to be the only one making sacrifices in this relationship (which shouldn't be one, considering their ranks and things like chain of command, but Sharon doesn't think Kara's ever done anything by the book).
"Bitch."
Sharon snorts and catches Kara's hand, pulling it off her belt. "Sleepy."
The fingers wrap around hers, and Kara tugs harder, this time, hard enough that she goes off-balance, reels into the bunks and barely catches herself against the upper rack, arm out to keep from hitting her head. "Ow. Damnit, Starbuck."
Kara bounces back up, hands moving to Sharon's waist. And it's easy to let Kara kiss her before she has a chance to recover. Easy to let her hand slip under Sharon's shirts and caress her skin.
Kissing Starbuck is something that's not going to get old anytime soon. Even if Sharon figures she's just the current one in a long line of flings, she's not sure she cares. Kara is impetuous and passionate. She puts into her frakking all the energy she puts into her flying, sometimes she leaves Sharon far behind wondering if she'll ever match her.
Falling into bed with her is like free-falling through the atmosphere. She doesn't want it to end.
It does, of course.
Afterwards, Sharon carefully stands, aware Kara's already half-asleep and doesn't really care if she stays. "Night, Starbuck."
"Yeah." A yawn catches the other pilot's face, distending it into a strange parody of her normal smirk. Her eyes close. "Night."
Getting into her own bunk only seems hard because it's cold. It doesn't take her long to fall asleep, however.
-=-
3. Scandalized
"Again."
D'Anna shifted her stance and lashed out, using the same combination. The first hit was blocked, the second connected, but off-center so her gravity changed, and she found herself stepping too many times to correct the imbalance.
An elbow slammed into her back, sending her staggering further.
Whirling, she dodged Starbuck's jab, bending backwards and coming back up to swing a punch at the other woman's jaw. It connected, and Starbuck staggered back, cursing before diving forward, arms going around D'Anna as she tackled her to the ground.
They wrestled, first one having the upper hand, then the other, until Starbuck's slightly sneakier and less polite style had D'Anna pinned, Starbuck's knees to either side of her head. "Say uncle," the pilot demanded, sweat dripping down her forehead.
"Uncle," D'Anna finally gasped.
Starbuck let herself fall sideways onto the mat with a muffled thud. One of her legs stayed hooked over D'Anna's torso, but she didn't seem to notice until D'Anna's fingers slid across her bare knee. "Nice shorts."
It was mocking. "That the best you can come up with? I thought you reporters loved to play with words." Starbuck mocked back, lifting up onto an elbow, and not removing her leg.
"Oh, I prefer playing with words. And other things." D'Anna shifted, hand sliding up under Kara's cuff and brushing her thigh with careful fingers. "How about you?"
"I don't normally frak reporters."
"But in my case, you'll make an exception."
"Nah." Starbuck shivered, though, as D'Anna's fingers slid higher. Her eyes watched D'Anna, "I never make exceptions. No Cylons, no reporters."
"Pity." Her fingers stopped just a few centimeters from their goal.
Kara's hand closed over hers, pushing higher.
"Thought you didn't make exceptions, Lieutenant."
Moving, Kara awkwardly kissed D'Anna, then breathed, "I don't."
D'Anna slipped a finger underneath Kara's underwear and stroked her. "Funny. You're not stopping me."
A breath caught at the back of Kara's throat, and she tightened her grip on D'Anna's hand. "Nope." She didn't offer an explanation.
Taking the hint, D'Anna explored, quickly discovering that Starbuck didn't want light and gentle, she slid two fingers into her up to the knuckles and listened as something close to a gasp escaped the pilot. "Like that, do you?"
"Shut up." There was an edge to Starbuck's voice that made the reporter almost smirk.
Her fingers pumped in and out, twisted around and flexed until Starbuck was gasping and shuddering next to her, and D'Anna's wrist was about to fall off from the awkward angle. "That better, Lieutenant?"
Starbuck opened an eye and just stared at her.
"Mmm. Obviously." Entirely smug, D'Anna leaned in and kissed her gently before retrieving her fingers and standing up.
Kara made a half-assed attempt to stand, and gave up when her muscles refused to cooperate.
Holding out a hand, D'Anna hauled her to her feet and clapped an arm around her to keep her upright. It was almost amusing to discover again that she was taller than the legendary pilot.
"Starbuck."
"Hrm?" Kara looked up at her.
D'Anna leaned in close, lips brushing Kara's ear lobe, "I lied."
A lazy hand trailed down her side. "About what?"
Pulling back, D'Anna stood, smirking, "I don't like women." Then she pulled free, and walked from the gym.
-f-
Spoilers: er... Up through Final Cut.
Pairings: Starbuck/Dualla, Starbuck/Boomer, Starbuck/D'Anna
This's for voleuse. Sorry for the slight delay in posting.
Length: 1,600+ (I, er, ended up hitting all three prompts)
1. Scrounged
Dee was always good for extra things. The communications officer looked innocent and wholesome, but if you had the money, and you knew, she could get perks. For anyone. Galactica wasn't a bad ship for stores and supplies, but it wasn't the top of the line, and sometimes, things fell by the wayside.
Toiletries, specialty items, anything and everything. A bottle of talcum (which ended up all over Tigh's quarters, something no one had been punished for, as of yet), chocolates, perfumes and aftershaves. Special aphrodisiacs (not all of Galactica's crew were as proficient as rumored). Small things they forgot while on leave, or didn't bother buying on-planet, as dealing with Dee was simply easier.
Peach shampoo was hot for three weeks until Kill-Switch mocked Starbuck for smelling like a garden.
That brawl landed them both in hack with Tigh lecturing on Proper Pilot Conduct.
Kill-Switch listened (he hadn't learned yet); Starbuck did push-ups (neither had she, but it didn't matter).
"You never told me I smelled like a garden," Starbuck complained later.
"Maybe I like gardens."
Glaring at Dualla, Starbuck snorted.
The communications officer smilied and moved to straddle the pilot's lap. "Oh, come on, like you don't mind smelling nice."
"I do when it lands me in hack."
"Like that doesn't happen every other week, anyway," Dee said dryly, wiser than her apparent youth. She ducked her head and kissed Starbuck's nose.
"Anyway. Nice is over-rated."
"I like nice."
"Then what the frak are you doing with me?" Starbuck's hands closed on Dee's waist, fingers digging in slightly.
"Enjoying you being nice. On occasion."
"Only on occasion?"
"Mhmm." Dee chuckled at the calculation in Starbuck's eyes.
Starbuck began tickling Dee.
"Frak--" Unable to help it, Dualla began laughing, fighting back and attempting to break free of the marauding pilot. A moment later, she fell backwards and landed on her ass. Still laughing, she stared up at Kara. "You are such an ass."
Kara grinned and dropped backwards in her bunk, "Yeah."
Pushing herself up, Dee clambered in on top of Kara and kissed her. "I kinda like it."
"Mmm." Starbuck replied intelligently.
Darker arms tangled around Starbuck's pale shoulders, and for a time, the only sound was bodies moving against each, Kara mocking Dee for her inelegant landing, and then abruptly gasping in a way that made Dualla just a little smug. Then it was her turn to gasp and moan.
Unfortunately, even with the Galactica under-manned, there were still too many pilots sharing quarters.
Before they could settle into any sort of comfortableness, there was a bang on the door, and three of the younger ones bounced in, arguing about their latest maneuvers. Dee buried her head under the sheet while Kara snickered and climbed out to mock them all.
-=-
2. Trumped
"Fold."
"No."
Kara snorts and waves her cigar at Boomer. "Fold, damnit."
"No!" The rookie pilot sticks her tongue out, "I call."
The rest of the table groans, but the cards get laid down. Unsurprisingly, Starbuck has them all beat. She smirks as she rakes in the pile, "Tolja to fold, rook."
Rolling her eyes, Sharon tosses her cards at the dealer and props her chin on one hand. "You tell me lots of things, Starbuck."
So she does. Kara twirls her cigar and leans back in her chair. "Dealer?"
The smoke from Kara's cigar curls up, joining the smoke from Gaeta's cigarette, and the general haziness of people who've had too much to drink and not enough fresh air to breathe.
"Ante up, ante up!"
Chips hit the table with clinks, cards snap down with sure aim. One of the newest specialists was dealing, and Jammer had a fabulous flip of the wrist that a casino would've paid for. Sharon watches, counting cards, trying to keep up. To beat Starbuck at something.
She doesn't notice the time passing, but she does notice Kara. The tip of her tongue, sometimes, the way her eyes shift to carelessly watch the other players, and always that little smirk around the corners of her lips. As if she knows something no one else does. Maybe she does, considering how much she continues to win. Starbuck's unbeatable, someone told Sharon once.
Now, she's beginning to believe it.
Too many lost chips, too much ambrosia later, and (too easily) Sharon's leaning on Starbuck as they make their way back to their room. "You smell horrible," she mumbles.
Kara laughs, the sound raucous and amused. "You want someone smells like flowers, try Dualla."
"Maybe I will," Sharon mumbles. But she doesn't mean it. No more than she really means it when she says Starbuck stinks. It's just that Starbuck is so good at everything, and Sharon isn't.
They make it into the bunk room, and Kara abruptly lets her go to stagger to her own rack. She makes it in, sideways, and laughs softly as the if the room spinning is amusing.
Sharon eyes her a moment, then starts to move for her own rack when Kara's hand on her belt stops her. "Wait."
"What?"
A tug, but she resists. Kara's going to have to do more than tug, it shouldn't be up to Sharon to be the only one making sacrifices in this relationship (which shouldn't be one, considering their ranks and things like chain of command, but Sharon doesn't think Kara's ever done anything by the book).
"Bitch."
Sharon snorts and catches Kara's hand, pulling it off her belt. "Sleepy."
The fingers wrap around hers, and Kara tugs harder, this time, hard enough that she goes off-balance, reels into the bunks and barely catches herself against the upper rack, arm out to keep from hitting her head. "Ow. Damnit, Starbuck."
Kara bounces back up, hands moving to Sharon's waist. And it's easy to let Kara kiss her before she has a chance to recover. Easy to let her hand slip under Sharon's shirts and caress her skin.
Kissing Starbuck is something that's not going to get old anytime soon. Even if Sharon figures she's just the current one in a long line of flings, she's not sure she cares. Kara is impetuous and passionate. She puts into her frakking all the energy she puts into her flying, sometimes she leaves Sharon far behind wondering if she'll ever match her.
Falling into bed with her is like free-falling through the atmosphere. She doesn't want it to end.
It does, of course.
Afterwards, Sharon carefully stands, aware Kara's already half-asleep and doesn't really care if she stays. "Night, Starbuck."
"Yeah." A yawn catches the other pilot's face, distending it into a strange parody of her normal smirk. Her eyes close. "Night."
Getting into her own bunk only seems hard because it's cold. It doesn't take her long to fall asleep, however.
-=-
3. Scandalized
"Again."
D'Anna shifted her stance and lashed out, using the same combination. The first hit was blocked, the second connected, but off-center so her gravity changed, and she found herself stepping too many times to correct the imbalance.
An elbow slammed into her back, sending her staggering further.
Whirling, she dodged Starbuck's jab, bending backwards and coming back up to swing a punch at the other woman's jaw. It connected, and Starbuck staggered back, cursing before diving forward, arms going around D'Anna as she tackled her to the ground.
They wrestled, first one having the upper hand, then the other, until Starbuck's slightly sneakier and less polite style had D'Anna pinned, Starbuck's knees to either side of her head. "Say uncle," the pilot demanded, sweat dripping down her forehead.
"Uncle," D'Anna finally gasped.
Starbuck let herself fall sideways onto the mat with a muffled thud. One of her legs stayed hooked over D'Anna's torso, but she didn't seem to notice until D'Anna's fingers slid across her bare knee. "Nice shorts."
It was mocking. "That the best you can come up with? I thought you reporters loved to play with words." Starbuck mocked back, lifting up onto an elbow, and not removing her leg.
"Oh, I prefer playing with words. And other things." D'Anna shifted, hand sliding up under Kara's cuff and brushing her thigh with careful fingers. "How about you?"
"I don't normally frak reporters."
"But in my case, you'll make an exception."
"Nah." Starbuck shivered, though, as D'Anna's fingers slid higher. Her eyes watched D'Anna, "I never make exceptions. No Cylons, no reporters."
"Pity." Her fingers stopped just a few centimeters from their goal.
Kara's hand closed over hers, pushing higher.
"Thought you didn't make exceptions, Lieutenant."
Moving, Kara awkwardly kissed D'Anna, then breathed, "I don't."
D'Anna slipped a finger underneath Kara's underwear and stroked her. "Funny. You're not stopping me."
A breath caught at the back of Kara's throat, and she tightened her grip on D'Anna's hand. "Nope." She didn't offer an explanation.
Taking the hint, D'Anna explored, quickly discovering that Starbuck didn't want light and gentle, she slid two fingers into her up to the knuckles and listened as something close to a gasp escaped the pilot. "Like that, do you?"
"Shut up." There was an edge to Starbuck's voice that made the reporter almost smirk.
Her fingers pumped in and out, twisted around and flexed until Starbuck was gasping and shuddering next to her, and D'Anna's wrist was about to fall off from the awkward angle. "That better, Lieutenant?"
Starbuck opened an eye and just stared at her.
"Mmm. Obviously." Entirely smug, D'Anna leaned in and kissed her gently before retrieving her fingers and standing up.
Kara made a half-assed attempt to stand, and gave up when her muscles refused to cooperate.
Holding out a hand, D'Anna hauled her to her feet and clapped an arm around her to keep her upright. It was almost amusing to discover again that she was taller than the legendary pilot.
"Starbuck."
"Hrm?" Kara looked up at her.
D'Anna leaned in close, lips brushing Kara's ear lobe, "I lied."
A lazy hand trailed down her side. "About what?"
Pulling back, D'Anna stood, smirking, "I don't like women." Then she pulled free, and walked from the gym.
-f-