fic: Escape
Title: Escape
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: MA
Word Count: 820
Pairing: Laura/Bill, Laura/Sam
Summary: Laura + Sam + NC = hawt angst
Author's Notes: Eight drabbles plus twenty words about the hotness that is Laura and Sam on New Caprica. Happy birthday, i_am_davnee. I thought you might appreciate some Laura/Sam written by someone other than you. ♥
Laura sees Sam playing pyramid under a sunny sky.
She's never met him; he'd arrived on Galactica around the time of the election, and needless to say, her mind was on other things.
Now it isn't.
He'd been Kara's obsession for so long after she'd abandoned him on Caprica. Now she can see several reasons why.
She hugs herself. The thin cotton tank and pants she'd picked up in the market aren't warm enough when the breeze off the lake is strong. Her hair blows in her face; she pushes it away and their eyes meet.
At play, he smiles.
x
Sam and Kara have matching tattoos, large and dramatic, love professed deep into their skin. They sit at the bar, absorbed in each other. Kara's titter of laughter always was the loudest in a crowd. Tonight's no different.
"She's happy," Bill says. Laura glances at him and smiles at his expression. Seeing Kara happy always pleases him. Laura puts her hand on his arm and squeezes.
"They are," Laura agrees. She looks again, in time to see Sam dip his head and kiss Kara on the neck.
She feels something tug at her inside-it feels peculiar. It feels good.
x
She hasn't seen Sam in a long time. Bill tells her, when he finally visits, that Cottle says he's sick with the same cough that's claiming so many others.
Laura is afraid of this contagion; she's spent too much time out of breath.
An autumn night in a tent is too cold to remove all their clothes. Bill kisses every inch of skin she has courage to expose. The warmth that swells inside her is temporary, but gods, she thinks as they remove their pants and he growls onto the chilled skin of her neck...
gods, it's a great escape.
x
On a typical winter afternoon, their breath but a passing fog in the air, this world at once suddenly, irrevocably, changed. They're prisoners here now, struggling for their humanity.
Laura sees Sam in the market. He looks healthy, but he looks lost. They must be on the same schedule, herded like cattle nowadays. She's never talked to him before. Now, she feels the need to do so.
"Where's Kara?" she asks.
"Gone," he says, his voice clipped as he looks away from her. "Where's the Admiral?"
Maybe she should have expected it; maybe it shouldn't have stung so much.
"Gone."
x
Sam smiles and examines her with incredulity when she slips inside his tent with a pot of soup, swaddled in rags to keep her palms from burning.
Laura justifies this gesture to herself by excusing it as a need for companionship. They're both missing someone, their futures clouded with uncertainty.
They eat from his bowls, across from each other at the table Saul made for a wedding present.
"This is good," he says.
She's been staring at her food. She looks into his eyes and they smile at each other.
"It is good."
She leaves; she leaves him the pot.
x
They start kissing. Sam returned the pot to her-the one she'd hoped he would, and he did, two days later-and before she thinks about why they can't and why they shouldn't, they start kissing.
She can barely reach his mouth, up on her tiptoes with her hands pressed against his cheeks, and he can nearly wrap his arms around her twice.
She feels so small.
His teeth tugging at her ear makes her pant-it makes her pull him to her cot.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, kissing her again.
For once, she wants to live life without regrets.
x
They pretend it hasn't become a habit, every time they meet seeming new and spontaneous. If they were to plan it, that would involve too much thinking, and thinking would involve considering consequences they aren't ready to face.
Sam's large hands skim her heated, naked body, smoothing over the sheen of sweat on her skin. She fraks him, fingernails scraping his muscular chest-it's frakking, hard and fast, her whimpers and his groans, because anything slower might mean it's more than it's supposed to be.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers this time.
Laura looks at him and shakes her head.
x
And then there came the very long stretch of time during which they didn't see each other.
She was lost.
x
"I was worried."
Poor Sam; poor, unfortunate Sam. Everybody in his life-every connection, every opportunity for joy-is always taken away from him. Laura doesn't know how he handles it.
"I'm okay," she answers.
Her response to his touch is not what he expects. She shies away, turning her back on him.
"Things are different," she forces herself to say.
"What did they do to you?" he asks, touching the small of her back.
She tenses up but doesn't move. "Please don't. You need to go."
It's so much easier to push him away than to pull him closer.
-end-
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: MA
Word Count: 820
Pairing: Laura/Bill, Laura/Sam
Summary: Laura + Sam + NC = hawt angst
Author's Notes: Eight drabbles plus twenty words about the hotness that is Laura and Sam on New Caprica. Happy birthday, i_am_davnee. I thought you might appreciate some Laura/Sam written by someone other than you. ♥
Laura sees Sam playing pyramid under a sunny sky.
She's never met him; he'd arrived on Galactica around the time of the election, and needless to say, her mind was on other things.
Now it isn't.
He'd been Kara's obsession for so long after she'd abandoned him on Caprica. Now she can see several reasons why.
She hugs herself. The thin cotton tank and pants she'd picked up in the market aren't warm enough when the breeze off the lake is strong. Her hair blows in her face; she pushes it away and their eyes meet.
At play, he smiles.
x
Sam and Kara have matching tattoos, large and dramatic, love professed deep into their skin. They sit at the bar, absorbed in each other. Kara's titter of laughter always was the loudest in a crowd. Tonight's no different.
"She's happy," Bill says. Laura glances at him and smiles at his expression. Seeing Kara happy always pleases him. Laura puts her hand on his arm and squeezes.
"They are," Laura agrees. She looks again, in time to see Sam dip his head and kiss Kara on the neck.
She feels something tug at her inside-it feels peculiar. It feels good.
x
She hasn't seen Sam in a long time. Bill tells her, when he finally visits, that Cottle says he's sick with the same cough that's claiming so many others.
Laura is afraid of this contagion; she's spent too much time out of breath.
An autumn night in a tent is too cold to remove all their clothes. Bill kisses every inch of skin she has courage to expose. The warmth that swells inside her is temporary, but gods, she thinks as they remove their pants and he growls onto the chilled skin of her neck...
gods, it's a great escape.
x
On a typical winter afternoon, their breath but a passing fog in the air, this world at once suddenly, irrevocably, changed. They're prisoners here now, struggling for their humanity.
Laura sees Sam in the market. He looks healthy, but he looks lost. They must be on the same schedule, herded like cattle nowadays. She's never talked to him before. Now, she feels the need to do so.
"Where's Kara?" she asks.
"Gone," he says, his voice clipped as he looks away from her. "Where's the Admiral?"
Maybe she should have expected it; maybe it shouldn't have stung so much.
"Gone."
x
Sam smiles and examines her with incredulity when she slips inside his tent with a pot of soup, swaddled in rags to keep her palms from burning.
Laura justifies this gesture to herself by excusing it as a need for companionship. They're both missing someone, their futures clouded with uncertainty.
They eat from his bowls, across from each other at the table Saul made for a wedding present.
"This is good," he says.
She's been staring at her food. She looks into his eyes and they smile at each other.
"It is good."
She leaves; she leaves him the pot.
x
They start kissing. Sam returned the pot to her-the one she'd hoped he would, and he did, two days later-and before she thinks about why they can't and why they shouldn't, they start kissing.
She can barely reach his mouth, up on her tiptoes with her hands pressed against his cheeks, and he can nearly wrap his arms around her twice.
She feels so small.
His teeth tugging at her ear makes her pant-it makes her pull him to her cot.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, kissing her again.
For once, she wants to live life without regrets.
x
They pretend it hasn't become a habit, every time they meet seeming new and spontaneous. If they were to plan it, that would involve too much thinking, and thinking would involve considering consequences they aren't ready to face.
Sam's large hands skim her heated, naked body, smoothing over the sheen of sweat on her skin. She fraks him, fingernails scraping his muscular chest-it's frakking, hard and fast, her whimpers and his groans, because anything slower might mean it's more than it's supposed to be.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers this time.
Laura looks at him and shakes her head.
x
And then there came the very long stretch of time during which they didn't see each other.
She was lost.
x
"I was worried."
Poor Sam; poor, unfortunate Sam. Everybody in his life-every connection, every opportunity for joy-is always taken away from him. Laura doesn't know how he handles it.
"I'm okay," she answers.
Her response to his touch is not what he expects. She shies away, turning her back on him.
"Things are different," she forces herself to say.
"What did they do to you?" he asks, touching the small of her back.
She tenses up but doesn't move. "Please don't. You need to go."
It's so much easier to push him away than to pull him closer.
-end-