[bsg] like breathing
Title: Like Breathing
Summary: Angst, death and sex. Um, rated PG-13? R? No idea, really. Kara/Lee.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: For angualupin, because her evening was RUINED by the NEEDLES OF DOOM. (I thought the idea was apt.)
* * *
Like Breathing.
* * *
Months and months of running from the Cylons and bacteria beats the human race.
Half the fleet is dead in the first twenty-four hours, and the day was coloured red with blood and anger and panic. Someone was beaten to death in a corridor for being a Cylon and he bled out on the floor. No one checked if his blood was synthetic.
Forty hours later, nobody cares.
Kara thinks that if the Cylons did orchestrate this, they have fine sense of irony; they managed to take humanity away, as well as life.
She’s sitting on her rack, body pulsing, fingers trembling, trying not to see the future but it’s so hard because it surrounds her. She’s watched Adama die. She’s watched Helo die. Both were quick, brutal, like being shot out of the sky and she’s taken her idols out of their covering more times than she can count, but she never has anything to say.
The hatch opens but she doesn’t look up until someone grabs her wrist and hauls her to her feet. Her eyes focus on Lee for just an instant before she’s shoved backwards into the door of her locker and he’s kissing her, deep and hard, and the metal is cold against her skin. Her hands curl around his shoulders and she pulls him closer closer closer until his heartbeat is pounding through her. She hears footsteps, a soft exclamation (frak) but it’s background music because all she feels is his hands on her skin, his mouth on her collarbone and she’s breathing.
She’s dying.
They don’t speak. There’s no point wasting the air in their lungs on words that have no meaning, and later, when his fingers twist just right inside her, she bites his neck savagely to gag herself against all the things there’s no point in saying.
When they’re done, his back is bleeding from her fingernails, long strips of red and she smears it with her fingertips. He hisses.
“Kara,” he says, and she shakes her head.
“Don’t."
He doesn't.
* * *
Summary: Angst, death and sex. Um, rated PG-13? R? No idea, really. Kara/Lee.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: For angualupin, because her evening was RUINED by the NEEDLES OF DOOM. (I thought the idea was apt.)
* * *
Like Breathing.
* * *
Months and months of running from the Cylons and bacteria beats the human race.
Half the fleet is dead in the first twenty-four hours, and the day was coloured red with blood and anger and panic. Someone was beaten to death in a corridor for being a Cylon and he bled out on the floor. No one checked if his blood was synthetic.
Forty hours later, nobody cares.
Kara thinks that if the Cylons did orchestrate this, they have fine sense of irony; they managed to take humanity away, as well as life.
She’s sitting on her rack, body pulsing, fingers trembling, trying not to see the future but it’s so hard because it surrounds her. She’s watched Adama die. She’s watched Helo die. Both were quick, brutal, like being shot out of the sky and she’s taken her idols out of their covering more times than she can count, but she never has anything to say.
The hatch opens but she doesn’t look up until someone grabs her wrist and hauls her to her feet. Her eyes focus on Lee for just an instant before she’s shoved backwards into the door of her locker and he’s kissing her, deep and hard, and the metal is cold against her skin. Her hands curl around his shoulders and she pulls him closer closer closer until his heartbeat is pounding through her. She hears footsteps, a soft exclamation (frak) but it’s background music because all she feels is his hands on her skin, his mouth on her collarbone and she’s breathing.
She’s dying.
They don’t speak. There’s no point wasting the air in their lungs on words that have no meaning, and later, when his fingers twist just right inside her, she bites his neck savagely to gag herself against all the things there’s no point in saying.
When they’re done, his back is bleeding from her fingernails, long strips of red and she smears it with her fingertips. He hisses.
“Kara,” he says, and she shakes her head.
“Don’t."
He doesn't.
* * *