Length: 1,000 Notes: this could be considered the morning after the night before. sings the Beatles (Pornapalooza is apparently back on. Not to mention, with added crack!tasticness) All typos are my own. And Fred's fault. goes to bed
Couldn't stay asleep today
by ALC Punk!
Morning didn't exactly fall, on Galactica. Still, there was a certain rhythm to the great battlestar that indicated the shift-change from third to first. Kara woke with it, head a little fuzzy and body a little sore. But feeling good. Feeling very good.
The man next to her, still snoring (he'd become attuned soon enough), also felt very good.
Kara reviewed the previous night's exchanges with a certain smugness that would have gotten her smacked in some circles (mostly, the pilots who hadn't had a good frak in weeks).
As if her thoughts were a little too loud, Sam Anders woke up between one breath and the next. Kara felt him tense for an instant, as if uncertain where he was.
She couldn't help the hand that caught his, squeezing gently. Damn, she was getting sentimental in her old age.
To fix that, she dropped his fingers a second later and groped him through the sheet.
"Still here?" Kara asked lazily as she stretched in her rack.
Next to her, Sam raised his head and snorted, "You're lucky I even remember your name."
"I am, huh?" She wriggled closer and poked him in the shoulder. "I seem to recall you remembering it very well last night."
"That's okay. I'm not sure what yours is again. Fred? Derek?"
"Hey!" He grabbed her, pulling her closer and on top of him. A slightly difficult move, given the bottom of the rack above them. But he managed.
So did she, easily straddling him, sheet trapped between. "Got a problem, Kory?"
"Yeah, I do, Arabella."
She snickered and leaned down to lick his chin. "Wrong name, Elvis."
"Going for the classics, are we?" He shifted, pushing up against her. "Camilla."
She hooted with laughter, then smacked her hand against his chest. "Wrong. Fieval."
"Hey!" Someone out in the room called, "Could you keep it the frak down? Some of us are trying to sleep, here!"
"Oh, frak you!" Kara called, leaning sideways to stick her head out of the curtain.
"Not unless you paid me, Starbuck!" Darkwing called from his rack.
"Hrm. Starbuck," Anders said, tugging her back inside the curtain and, incidentally, got his hand up her shirt. "That sounds familiar."
She shivered and leaned down to nip at his lips. "It should."
"Gahh. Don't you ever brush your teeth?" He jerked his head to the side when she made to kiss him again.
"What, like your mouth doesn't taste like something died in it?"
"Yours is worse."
"Wow. Who ever thought Gordon would be so romantic in the morning?"
He snorted and used his hand to his advantage. "Penelope, dear, I can be very romantic. But there's no point."
A half-moan escaped her before she caught herself. Then she said, tone exaggeratedly falsetto, "Oh, Rhett, the things you do to me."
"We're supposed to be real quiet-like, Eliza." He murmured, continuing to do what he'd been doing, which made her eyes roll slightly back in her head and her breath catch.
And calling him anything was suddenly a problem.
So Kara did the next best thing. She bit his shoulder.
Kara clapped a hand over his mouth, so he could continue cursing at her. And then she started giggling and he started laughing. They were being loud. And obnoxious. And some part of her was trying to point out that was a bad idea, and rude, but she couldn't help it. And besides, when the frak had she ever cared about annoying her fellow pilots?
The curtain was abruptly yanked back.
"Gods-damnit, Starbuck." hissed Darkwing, his glare breaking glass and bones--he wished. "Either frak him and shut the frak up, or I'm tossing you both in the corridor."
"You got somewhere important to be, Darkwing?"
"Yeah. I have CAP in three hours. And I'd like to get some frakking sleep."
Having gotten control of her laughter, Kara looked at him. "Go find another rack. There's plenty open elsewhere."
Anders took advantage of her distraction and did that thing with his hand again, which made her thump him with her fist.
Throwing up his hands, Darkwing snorted, "Gods, sir, you're such an ass."
He stalked out of the room, probably to find a warm and accommadating petty officer like Dee.
"Nice rout there, Mirabelle."
"Shut up, Samuel."
"Ooh, you remember my name." He smirked.
"I remember a lot of things," she whispered before she kissed his neck and reached down to yank the sheet out of her way. Really, the man was taking too long to do anything. And it wasn't like he wasn't ready--she certainly was.
"Whoa, what--ack--" He trailed off with a soft groan.
Kara smirked, wriggling her hips to adjust him. "Better, Sammy?"
"Don't call me that," he muttered, voice strained.
"Mmm." She dropped down and stretched out on his chest, head dropping to the side of his. "What's my name?" she whispered. The whisper was accompanied with another wriggle of her hips.
His hands clamped on down on her hips, holding her still. "Kara."
"Mama raised me good."
Kara was about to answer when he rocked his hips against hers. She groaned, "Gods. You're so damn hot."
"Thank you." he murmured before catching the hand she was about to thump him with. He slid their fingers together, and Kara dragged their linked hands above his head, pushing herself up slightly and staring at him. "What?"
They weren't drunk, this time. The only haze was caused by his skin against hers and his breath catching at moments when she thought it shouldn't. And moments when it should have he made hers catch until they were both lost.
"You need a toothbrush," he informed her while she was still catching her breath.
So she thumped him. "Gods, Edgar, you're such an ass."
He pulled her slightly to the side and tucked her against him more comfortably. "Thank you, Esmerelda."
Kara yawned. "No frakking cylons are allowed to invade."