BSG fic: With This Mysterious Number Be Content (pg-13)
Title: With This Mysterious Number Be Content
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,071
Characters: Helo, Starbuck
Spoilers: speculation for season 4
Disclaimer: This story was written as a transformative work - no copyright or trademark infringement was intended nor is any profit being made.
Author's note: Written for the Kindreds John-Donne-A-Thon for prompt #24: with this mysterious number be content. I didn't have to use that as the title, but, as with the other prompt in this ficathon, I think it works. Thank you, Lily#7, for the beta.
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Their footsteps pounded in tandem on the rough metal decking, barely audible over the constant clanging and clanking, whirring and whining of the old ship. They didn't speak; that would come later, when they were finished running and hit the makeshift gym for a less aerobic workout.
Karl looked down at his friend, short blond ponytail bouncing as she ran beside him. Her hair had grown out a bit in the weeks she'd been... gone, even if she did swear to all the gods that she'd only been gone a few hours. She couldn't explain the hair, didn't want to believe that anything weird was going on, but it didn't really matter to him. He was more glad than he could ever express that she was here no matter how that circumstance came about or how everyone else seemed to feel about her right now.
Kara slanted a look up at him, an impish light in her eyes. "Last one home takes dog watch!" And with that she poured on a burst of speed worthy of Anders in his heyday.
"Dammit," Karl muttered under his breath. In a fair race there'd be no contest, but Kara Thrace didn't do fair and the "dog watch" on Demetrius was about the smelliest, most disgusting duty he had ever pulled. And that included the time he'd had to schlepp rotten meat from a dead freezer at his uncle's restaurant his senior year in high school.
"Kara!" he shouted and pounded after her. "You little..." He heard her peal of laughter as she rounded a corner, a welcome sound as there'd been precious little of that from her since her return from the dead. And unless there was some kind of miracle now, he was doomed.
Lengthening his stride, he quickly caught up to her. With an evil grin - either a miracle or cheating as badly as she ever did - he snagged that bouncing tail, breaking her stride just enough to sail past her without taking any damage.
"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, but he just waved a hand at her and continued on to the gym. Frak if he was pulling the dog watch again - once was more than enough.
He made it to the gym with her hot on his ass, but before he could make it through the hatch - the finish line was the far wall, when they raced like this - the fuming Starbuck tackled him, knocked him through the opening to the deck. He cracked both shins pretty good on the hatch combing as he went down in a blaze of pain - Sharon was going to tease him mercilessly, provided he didn't break anything. Kara tried to sail past him, but he rolled, making sure he was at least halfway blocking her path, and grabbed her ankle, taking her down, too.
With Starbuck, a move like that was a risky proposition at best - it could go either way. Rather than trying to kill him, she laughed. He rolled, bruising an elbow on the corrugated decking. Unfortunately, she held on, clinging to him like a frakking leech, and wound up on top, straddling him.
Laughing, Helo gave her a shove, but she just smirked. "C'mon, Kara, get off." He'd have shifted to unseat her, but their positions, her growing smirk and raised brow all told him that it would be a very bad idea, just then. "What would you do if Sharon were to walk through that hatch right now?"
"Invite her to join us?"
He just looked at her, one brow raised. With a look that clearly said you’re no fun, Starbuck rolled off him, pushed to her feet and held out a hand.
She waggled her hand at him impatiently. "Truce, Karl. We call it a draw." An almost evil expression on her face, she continued, "And we foist the dog watch off on Hotdog."
After a second, he let her help him to his feet. He straightened, the muscles in his legs flexing, the skin pulling tight on his shins, and he hissed in surprise at the sudden pain. Looking down, he saw angry red welts on both shins below his shorts and a trickle of blood flowed from a ragged tear on his right leg.
Kara stepped away, headed over to a pail of water on a countertop. She grabbed a clean hand towel from the stack beside the pail and soaked it, wringing the excess water back into the pail before tossing the towel to him. Helo caught it and lifted his foot, resting it on a workout bench while he dabbed at the blood. Folding the damp towel into a pad, he held it against the stinging wound.
Glancing up, he saw Kara lean back against a bulkhead and twist the top off a bottle of water before taking a long swig. "Doesn't look too bad," she observed.
Helo took a closer look at the injury, now that the blood had mostly been cleaned away. The edges of the wound were ragged, yes, but it wasn't deep and the bleeding was already slowing. "Should be okay in a few minutes." He returned the damp pad to the cut and shifted so that he could sink down onto the bench.
Kara was still looking at him. "What?" he mouthed at her. She shrugged and sank down the wall to the deck, knees tented in front of her, half-empty water bottle dangling from her fingers as she rested her arms on her knees. "How many promotions, demotions, and side-ways-motions have you had since you got back to Galactica?"
He snorted. "Counting this one? Eight. Something like that."
She raised her eyebrows and lifted her water in salute. "I'm impressed. That's more 'career' moves than I've had."
"Yeah, but most of my demotions and sideways moves were out of necessity, not self inflicted." She stuck her tongue out at him and threw the now empty bottle at his head.
"Seriously, Karl, the Old Man ought to keep you as his XO. You're pretty good at it."
Now it was his turn to shrug. The Admiral would do what the Admiral would do; Karl wasn't worried about it. He'd go where and do what was needed.
"You're thinking again, Agathon. You know that's dangerous for you, right?"
"I'm fine right where I am, Kara. Eight's my lucky number."
She rolled her eyes at him. "You are such a sap."
~fin~
Cross-posted all over the place.
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,071
Characters: Helo, Starbuck
Spoilers: speculation for season 4
Disclaimer: This story was written as a transformative work - no copyright or trademark infringement was intended nor is any profit being made.
Author's note: Written for the Kindreds John-Donne-A-Thon for prompt #24: with this mysterious number be content. I didn't have to use that as the title, but, as with the other prompt in this ficathon, I think it works. Thank you, Lily#7, for the beta.
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Their footsteps pounded in tandem on the rough metal decking, barely audible over the constant clanging and clanking, whirring and whining of the old ship. They didn't speak; that would come later, when they were finished running and hit the makeshift gym for a less aerobic workout.
Karl looked down at his friend, short blond ponytail bouncing as she ran beside him. Her hair had grown out a bit in the weeks she'd been... gone, even if she did swear to all the gods that she'd only been gone a few hours. She couldn't explain the hair, didn't want to believe that anything weird was going on, but it didn't really matter to him. He was more glad than he could ever express that she was here no matter how that circumstance came about or how everyone else seemed to feel about her right now.
Kara slanted a look up at him, an impish light in her eyes. "Last one home takes dog watch!" And with that she poured on a burst of speed worthy of Anders in his heyday.
"Dammit," Karl muttered under his breath. In a fair race there'd be no contest, but Kara Thrace didn't do fair and the "dog watch" on Demetrius was about the smelliest, most disgusting duty he had ever pulled. And that included the time he'd had to schlepp rotten meat from a dead freezer at his uncle's restaurant his senior year in high school.
"Kara!" he shouted and pounded after her. "You little..." He heard her peal of laughter as she rounded a corner, a welcome sound as there'd been precious little of that from her since her return from the dead. And unless there was some kind of miracle now, he was doomed.
Lengthening his stride, he quickly caught up to her. With an evil grin - either a miracle or cheating as badly as she ever did - he snagged that bouncing tail, breaking her stride just enough to sail past her without taking any damage.
"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, but he just waved a hand at her and continued on to the gym. Frak if he was pulling the dog watch again - once was more than enough.
He made it to the gym with her hot on his ass, but before he could make it through the hatch - the finish line was the far wall, when they raced like this - the fuming Starbuck tackled him, knocked him through the opening to the deck. He cracked both shins pretty good on the hatch combing as he went down in a blaze of pain - Sharon was going to tease him mercilessly, provided he didn't break anything. Kara tried to sail past him, but he rolled, making sure he was at least halfway blocking her path, and grabbed her ankle, taking her down, too.
With Starbuck, a move like that was a risky proposition at best - it could go either way. Rather than trying to kill him, she laughed. He rolled, bruising an elbow on the corrugated decking. Unfortunately, she held on, clinging to him like a frakking leech, and wound up on top, straddling him.
Laughing, Helo gave her a shove, but she just smirked. "C'mon, Kara, get off." He'd have shifted to unseat her, but their positions, her growing smirk and raised brow all told him that it would be a very bad idea, just then. "What would you do if Sharon were to walk through that hatch right now?"
"Invite her to join us?"
He just looked at her, one brow raised. With a look that clearly said you’re no fun, Starbuck rolled off him, pushed to her feet and held out a hand.
She waggled her hand at him impatiently. "Truce, Karl. We call it a draw." An almost evil expression on her face, she continued, "And we foist the dog watch off on Hotdog."
After a second, he let her help him to his feet. He straightened, the muscles in his legs flexing, the skin pulling tight on his shins, and he hissed in surprise at the sudden pain. Looking down, he saw angry red welts on both shins below his shorts and a trickle of blood flowed from a ragged tear on his right leg.
Kara stepped away, headed over to a pail of water on a countertop. She grabbed a clean hand towel from the stack beside the pail and soaked it, wringing the excess water back into the pail before tossing the towel to him. Helo caught it and lifted his foot, resting it on a workout bench while he dabbed at the blood. Folding the damp towel into a pad, he held it against the stinging wound.
Glancing up, he saw Kara lean back against a bulkhead and twist the top off a bottle of water before taking a long swig. "Doesn't look too bad," she observed.
Helo took a closer look at the injury, now that the blood had mostly been cleaned away. The edges of the wound were ragged, yes, but it wasn't deep and the bleeding was already slowing. "Should be okay in a few minutes." He returned the damp pad to the cut and shifted so that he could sink down onto the bench.
Kara was still looking at him. "What?" he mouthed at her. She shrugged and sank down the wall to the deck, knees tented in front of her, half-empty water bottle dangling from her fingers as she rested her arms on her knees. "How many promotions, demotions, and side-ways-motions have you had since you got back to Galactica?"
He snorted. "Counting this one? Eight. Something like that."
She raised her eyebrows and lifted her water in salute. "I'm impressed. That's more 'career' moves than I've had."
"Yeah, but most of my demotions and sideways moves were out of necessity, not self inflicted." She stuck her tongue out at him and threw the now empty bottle at his head.
"Seriously, Karl, the Old Man ought to keep you as his XO. You're pretty good at it."
Now it was his turn to shrug. The Admiral would do what the Admiral would do; Karl wasn't worried about it. He'd go where and do what was needed.
"You're thinking again, Agathon. You know that's dangerous for you, right?"
"I'm fine right where I am, Kara. Eight's my lucky number."
She rolled her eyes at him. "You are such a sap."
~fin~
Cross-posted all over the place.