Disclaimer: not mine. Rating: 18+ (sex, swearing) Length: 2,000 Pairings: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Cally/Chief Set: LYDB2. Spoilers.
genre: fluff, angst, introspection, friendship, porn Notes: Er. As it might have become clear, I have gotten veryvery tired (faster than I did with Sam/Jack fic, actually) of writing the porns. I 'pologize. This isn't exactly porn. Summary and title stolen from The Cure's 'High.
Summary: When I see you high as a kite/As high as I might/I can't get that high

Not a world of magic shows
by ALC Punk!

It takes Kara three months to completely realize that she hates New Caprica. The rain, the mud, the constant struggle for survival--it's all something that could be novel, but isn't. She's done the struggle for survival for years. Rain and mud don't change that.

She could leave. She could go back to Galactica (where she wants to be, where it's warm). She and Anders could live there, the Old Man wouldn't mind. Even if they tested every rack to see how well it took sex. Even if they tested his (which they could do, she'd just have to get up the courage). She could even fly again.

Kara misses flying.

She never tells Sam that.

And it's the one thing he never asks her (he never asks if she loves him, either).

They fight almost once a week, about stupid crap. The rain, the mud, why she's such a lousy cook (he's not much better), whether the C-Bucks would have beaten the cylons eventually (Kara says no, Sam says yes until every tent for a mile can hear them yelling about tactics). Everything they can think of, they argue about.

And then it's out in the open, and they're over being angry.

She sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night to watch him sleep.

It's a habit she picked up with Zak, and now she can't break it. Watching him sleep proves that he's still there. That he's hers.

Kara doesn't contemplate whether she's his.

Sometimes he wakes and watches her with eyes full of deep thoughts and something that scares her. Because it's when the rain pounds on the tent, when the corner drips (it never stops), and when it's dark like this, that he says he loves her.

He says it during the day, too. But there's less weight to it, with the light out (not sunlight, unless they're lucky).

Saying it at night, when there's no one to hear the show (except her) makes it real.

Sometimes, she wonders if he could have killed her that day on Caprica. If the cylons had gassed them in preparation for taking them to the farms, could he have pulled the trigger? At night, when he whispers "I love you" against the skin of her throat, she thinks he would have.

Kara hates New Caprica, but she stays because Anders loves it.

He needs the sky and the plants, the wind and the rain. She only ever needed the sky. And sometimes flying.

It's an even trade, she thinks. Her happiness for his. Her need for one man for his need to be on a planet. To see the stars wheel through atmosphere.

She wonders what he would have thought of Earth.

Another argument, another week, another month passes. And she's good at being happy. Uncomplicated and living in the moment, she is happy. Sam is happy. The rain falls. Sam is happy. The sun shines. Kara's pretty certain she's more than a little frakked-up in the head at this point.

Not that it matters.

She's out one night, having walked out in the middle of another shouting match.

Three rows over, she finds Chief Tyrol (not that he's Chief of a deck anymore) falling into step with her. Silently, he hands her a bottle of the home brew that's been circulating. They drink and walk in relative silence until they come to a half-finished wall.

Kara sits down with a curse about mud. He sits down without comment.

The bottles are drunk more.


"Got kicked out?" Kara doesn't glance sideways at him.

A wince. "She threw a pot at me. Said I was bein' a frakkin' idiot."

Knowing Cally, the aim had been good, too. "Need t'see Doc?"

"Nah. You?"

"Just shouting. We don't..." There's no need for throwing things when they know words hurt more. Kara tries to crack a smile.

"You're miserable here, sir."

"Am not." And she's not crying, either. She drinks down the last, coughing a little.

"You are. So am I." He hands her another bottle. "But we love them."


They drink silently for a while, then Kara shifts, "This is frakkin' ridiculous. Settling on this, this..."


Neither is drunk, but not speaking is easier. Besides, not speaking leads to not thinking. Hopefully. Kara suddenly wants to fly again, to be back in a viper, streaking through the sky. Nothing but space around, danger, cylons. "I miss it."

"I don't miss the deaths."

But he misses Galactica, like she does. He misses having a purpose. "Hey." She nudges him. "Heard you were maybe up for union leader."

He laughs, "It's somethin' to do, sir."

"Chief. You gonna call me sir when I'm old and grey?"


They both chuckle, finish their bottles and sigh.

"I should go back."

Tyrol chuckles at their agreement, then asks, "Does he know, sir?"

"I spent my nights trying to fly, apparently." She shrugs, "Sometimes, he thinks all I want is to be back out there."

"Didn't mean that, Kara."

She stops. Swallows. Ducks her head. "Of course he knows."

"You tell him?"

No. Yes. Not in words. Never in words, because words out loud would make it concrete. And concrete means he could slip away and die on her.

Chief snorts, elbows her, "You're frakked in the head, sir."

"That's what they say, Chief."

He grabs the empty bottles, shoves them in a bag he magically produces. That's what made him the best deck chief--he could make miracles out of nothing. Kara wistfully wonders what miracles he could make with a real planet to house them.

"C'mon, sir," he stands then reaches down to haul her to her feet.

Kara's a little surprised she needs to be steadied. "How frakking strong is that crap, Chief?"

"Newest batch needs a little refining."

"Oh." Whoo boy, does it ever. Goes right to her head (no missing dinner, the next time she does this). Kara sways, then grabs onto Tyrol's arm. He's kinda swaying, too. "Stand still."

"I am, sir."


They weave their companionable way down the tent street, only tripping and landing in the mud once. It makes Kara collapse into giggles until he shoves a handful of mud down the back of her shirt. "Bastard."

"My parents were happily married, sir." Tyrol replies with dignity before helping her to her unsteady feet again.

"Frak you."

"No thanks."

"Cally would murder me in my sleep."

"She'd prefer you awake so you feel the pain."

"Good point." Kara waves her free hand. "Note to self: never piss off Cally."

"Good plan, sir."

"I'm fabulous with plans, Chief."

"Kara!" Anders jogs into sight, looking worried.

"Hey, Sammy." Pleased, she lets Chief's arm go and bounces over to him. She stretches up and catches his face in her hands, kissing him a little too wildly for the street. But he doesn't seem to care.

"Don't call me Sammy," he murmurs against her lips.

Chief coughs. "Good night, sir."

"Night, Chief. Take your own frakking advice, Chief." She waves distractedly at him, still leaning against Sam.

Anders tightens his grip on her. "You ok?"

"Never better."

"Ok." He seems vaguely uncertain, but shifts to tuck her against his side. "Let's go home."

"Good plan."

The walk back to their tent takes less time than she expected. Either that, or the alcohol really was going to her head.

"Hey." She takes his hand. "Sit down, ok?"

"So you can throw things at me?"


He chuckles, but sits, tugging her closer.

Kara faces him, her hands on his shoulders. In the light from their one lantern, he suddenly stops looking amused, and looks as serious as she feels. She feels suddenly like a child about to report to a professor--serious and worried. And Kara was never one of those children, she always just winged it. Except this is important. Really important.

"I, ah, I love you."

She waits for the world to come crashing down.

"That's what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yeah." She takes a careful breath, "I didn't know, um, if you knew."

His hands settle at her waist, tugging her closer. One tugs her shirts free and his hands slip inside to rest on her sides. "I knew."

"'Cause, I mean, I'm not... you knew?" Her legs give out and she ends up sitting across his lap.

"Yup." The hands slide up her sides to her breasts, gently cupping them. "Why else would you put up with me?"


He snorts, then leans in and kisses her gently. "Love you, too."

"You don't--" her breath ends in a gasp as his fingers do something that should be illegal. Suddenly, that pleasant alcoholic haze is gone. In its place is her body announcing that it would like sex now, please. "Sam."

He chuckles and kisses her, hands suddenly busy. One slips around to her back and he pauses, pulling back and yanking his hand out. "What the hell?"

Kara glances at the mud flecking his fingers and starts to laugh.

"I'm married to a madwoman," Sam mutters.

"Yep." She kisses him, "But you love me anyway."

"You're frakkin' insane."

"What's that make you?"

His fingers do something even more arousing.


"Yup." He sounds smug before he flops backwards onto the bed, dragging her with him.

It's awkward and uncomfortable, and Kara's pretty sure the cot is going to break any moment (again--they'd had to quickly learn to pace themselves on their exuberance. After Galactica's stable and rock-solid racks, the rickety cots they shared on-planet were a bit of a shock. And not up to rampant sex), but it's good sex. It's almost always good sex.

Afterwards, she's stretched out, lazily contemplating how much she rather enjoys this whole being married thing when he kisses her shoulder.



He tucks her closer. "You smell like mud."

"Should've taken a shower."

"Water ration's not long enough for what I'd end up doing to you in the shower."

She shivers at the images that conjures. "Aren't we trying to sleep?"

"Yeah," he yawns, "got work tomorrow."

Great. Now she's awake again, body demanding more stimulation. "You suck."

"I do?" He's almost asleep.

"Get me all worked up and then go to sleep."

He mumbles something that she's not quite sure she understood, so she settles for ignoring him and wriggles her hand free. "Guess I'll have to take of things myself."

"What?" Now he seems a little more awake.

Kara puts her hand between her legs and smirks at him, "I have fingers, Sammy."

A groan escapes him, "You are evil and incredibly hot." He shifts to prop his head up on one hand, elbow planted on the cot. "So?"

"So, what?" Then she figures him out, and snorts, "Get your own damn porn show."

"I like this one better." His hand slips down her stomach to join hers.

A shiver slides through her. "You going to help or just be obnoxious?"


And he does both. Fingers stroking her, eyes watching her until she's hot and can feel exactly what she needs. Then his hand pulls away, leaving her on her own for the end.

When she's done, breath still coming in pants, he kisses her mouth. "Hey."


"I'm sorry you hate it here."

She's silent for a moment, skin rapidly cooling now that she's spent her energy. "Your turn, next time," she announces, sated and very sleepy. They can talk about serious things, later. Right now, she simply wants to sleep with her husband.

"Let tomorrow fend for itself?" He curls a hand over her belly, tugging her back against him.

Kara shifts onto her side to get a little more room between her and the edge of the bed. "Something like that."

He kisses her shoulder, then retrieves the blanket. They wrestle it into place. "All right."

"Night, Sam."

She's asleep between one breath and the next.

Anders stays awake a while longer, cuddling Kara close before he, too, slips away into dreamland.