BSG Drabble: You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman) (Starbuck/Baltar)
Title: You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman)
Author: mrstater
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: Kara Thrace, Starbuck/Baltar
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for sex and language
Format & word Count: drabble, 242 words
Summary: For Starbuck, Gaius Baltar wasn't just a fling. [KLG1]
Author's Notes: Written for fthpfthpfthp for International Women's Day 2011.
She almost feels sorry for Baltar as she stumbles from his room clutching the evening gown around herself. Almost, and then she thinks about it again, and the idea of Gaius Baltar, the biggest man-whore in the Colonies, not being able to get off because she called out another man's name is so frakking hilarious she has to stop and lean against a wall she's laughing so hard.
But when the laughter dies, so does any amusement, leaving her alone with her guilt--her most familiar bedfellow.
Baltar may deserve to be humbled, but who is she to do it? For reasons she can't comprehend, she thinks he actually liked her. And while she never had an ounce of delusion that she might like him back, she never would have frakked a guy like him if he hadn't made her feel something somewhere other than between her legs.
She'd liked the way he made her feel. Like she was a girl. A woman. No, a lady, even. The kind who could pull off a sexy cocktail dress that could make a man want her from across a crowded room.
He made her feel like Kara, not Starbuck.
She picks herself up off the floor with a scowl and, stupid girly shoes in hand, stalks back to her quarters.
To Lee, she's nothing more than a call-sign, and now she's frakked up her shot at the best lay on this bucket of bolts.
Author: mrstater
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: Kara Thrace, Starbuck/Baltar
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for sex and language
Format & word Count: drabble, 242 words
Summary: For Starbuck, Gaius Baltar wasn't just a fling. [KLG1]
Author's Notes: Written for fthpfthpfthp for International Women's Day 2011.
She almost feels sorry for Baltar as she stumbles from his room clutching the evening gown around herself. Almost, and then she thinks about it again, and the idea of Gaius Baltar, the biggest man-whore in the Colonies, not being able to get off because she called out another man's name is so frakking hilarious she has to stop and lean against a wall she's laughing so hard.
But when the laughter dies, so does any amusement, leaving her alone with her guilt--her most familiar bedfellow.
Baltar may deserve to be humbled, but who is she to do it? For reasons she can't comprehend, she thinks he actually liked her. And while she never had an ounce of delusion that she might like him back, she never would have frakked a guy like him if he hadn't made her feel something somewhere other than between her legs.
She'd liked the way he made her feel. Like she was a girl. A woman. No, a lady, even. The kind who could pull off a sexy cocktail dress that could make a man want her from across a crowded room.
He made her feel like Kara, not Starbuck.
She picks herself up off the floor with a scowl and, stupid girly shoes in hand, stalks back to her quarters.
To Lee, she's nothing more than a call-sign, and now she's frakked up her shot at the best lay on this bucket of bolts.