Spoilers: Through Crossroads II.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders. Vague mentions of Sharon/Helo, Billy Keikaya/Jean Barolay, Cally/Tyrol.
Length: 4,000 words Disclaimer: Not mine.
The (inaptly named) Fifteen Seconds of Fame by ALC Punk!
1. stars (new caprica)
"You miss them."
Sam's voice is rough with sleep, and Kara doesn't have to turn to know he's standing behind her on the hill, watching her and not the sky. That he followed her doesn't bother her. In a way, it's a comfort to know that he will always be there.
And yet, she's not supposed to --need--. Not like normal people, not like Cally with her need for Chief, or Helo with his need for Sharon. She's Kara Thrace and she's special.
He doesn't touch her. He knows that, now--or maybe he always knew--but he's standing close enough, she can smell the pepper he put on dinner from his breath. Though it could be the same on her own breath, she considers. She likes his cooking, likes watching him come up with ridiculously-named dishes, just to make the food taste better.
"I've thought about it, you know."
And he doesn't ask --what--. Instead, he shifts, hand touching her side. "I wouldn't mind. As long as--" But he stops, because he doesn't own her, and she'd never want him to. But he wants to make a mark on her, to have some way (other than their vows spoken when she was staring up at him, thanking the Gods he wasn't Lee) of saying they belong to each other.
"Sam." She turns, hands reaching for him and tugging her against herself. "If I joined back up, I'd want you to come with me."
"All right." His hand cups her face and she kisses him before he's ready, catching his mouth with hers and making him jerk when she nips at his lip. "Kara..."
"Talking is over," she suggests, hand moving to grab him through his shorts.
A groan escapes him.
2. Kara and Sam host poker night. There is Cally. And Billy
"Billy, you can't call," objected Cally with a glare, "This isn't your bet."
The ex-president's aide shrugged and waved his cards, "So, someone else call."
Kara stared at him, her unlit cigar clamped between her lips, "Kid, did you just get off the boat from Picon?" She looked across the table at Sam, "Tell me he's not an idiot."
"He's not an idiot," her husband replied, looking amused. "I fold, by the way."
"Well, I'm not folding." Cally snapped, tossing a peanut into the middle of the table.
"Bet's to you, Kara," noted Sam cheerfully.
"Since you're so eager, Billy..." Kara smirked and tossed in a peanut, "I meet Cally's bet and call." She laid out her cards, three kings and two sixes. "Read 'em and weep, kiddies."
"Frak." Tossing her cards down, Cally looked sullen. "How do you do it, Starbuck?"
"Just lucky, baby." She started to reach for the pot.
"Um, Mr. Anders, does a royal flush beat a full house?" Billy sounded almost, well, confused. And innocent.
Kara stared at him, then at his cards. "Oh, frak me."
"Later, baby," Sam promised.
"I win?" Grinning cheerfully, Billy began raking in the pot, "I don't ever win. This is so cool."
"I could so burst your bubble, kid," muttered Kara. A few words in Jean Barolay's ear, and Billy would find himself sleeping in the mud. 'Course, that might be mean.
Cally sighed and stood up, "I should go. Nick needs to be fed soon."
"And I need to get an early night." Billy stood too, happy. "The life of a teacher's assistant is fraught with danger--but only if you're tired."
With friendly waves, the two kids left the tent. Well, technically, they weren't kids. Except in experience. Kara sighed and looked at Sam. "We've been abandoned."
"I have no idea what we should do," Sam told her, standing and --leaning-- across the table at her.
Kara grabs his hand yanking him forwards, "Your imagination is lacking tonight, Mr. Anders."
Catching himself against the table, he sighs, "You want imagination?"
"Fine." He stalks around the table, grabs her by the waist and picks her up.
Kara puts her hands on his shoulders for balance, laughing as he moves them towards the bed. "This is not--"
He releases her, then pounces her onto the bed. Unfortunately, the bedframe isn't exactly steady. This is the second time they've broken it in three weeks.
"OW." Kara thumps his shoulder. "Idiot."
He kisses her.
She stops thinking about her bruised ass.
3. Changing diapers.
"This was your stupid idea."
"They needed help, and you're not allowed to fly vipers right now."
"Yeah, well, you can't fly a raptor yet, so that makes two of us."
"And who's fault is that?"
"I am NOT the one who fell off a viper."
"Hand me that pin--ow, Nicky, stop kicking!"
"Here. Stop being a baby."
"I'm not the small child here, Kara."
"No, you're just acting like one."
"And you're not?"
"At least I'm not tall enough my head hits the roof."
"It's a ceiling, and there's a deck above it."
"I like semantics. Shrew."
"Nicky, you'll have to pardon the blood I'm going to splatter on you in a moment."
"Ooo, going to beat me up, Kara?"
"I'm shaking in my boots."
"You should be."
"Nicky, you might want to cover your eyes."
"He should see the bloodshed."
"You shouldn't call me too tall, baby."
"I'll baby you, you bastard--"
"Shut up and kiss me. Idiot."
4. Back from the dead.
She was alive. Sam couldn't actually feel, right then. All he could do was stare across the hangar at her, watch the pilots cluster around her, watch the old man order his marines to guard her--
That was wrong. She wasn't the Cylon, here. But then again, no one knew who was, anymore.
"Kara!" He shouted it as the people erupted in a sort of strange chaos. The pilots wanted to behave, but this was Starbuck. She'd always been their touchstone, the one who could survive anything. Giving in to his own need, he moved forward, shoving people out of his way to get closer. "Kara!"
"Sam!" The answering shout almost made him cry.
The marines didn't really stand a chance. Hell, Sam wasn't even sure she noticed they were there--he only noticed them after he'd punched them.
And then she hit him, hands and arms and legs and mouth, and he hit back, swinging her into his arms and kissing her as though he'd never let her go.
He'd said his girl was too lucky to check out. And, damn, if he hadn't been right.
5. Matching bum knees and narrow bunks.
"Trying to match me?"
Sam looked up from wrapping his knee, and snorted as Kara dropped down next to him on the rack. "I fell off a viper. You fell off a raptor."
"Yeah?" She nudged him, then snorted. "But I had a pre-existing condition."
"So I've heard." In a lightning-change of mood, Sam stopped messing with his knee and pulled her onto his lap.
Kara shifted and banged her head on the bunk above. "Ow. Frak."
She elbowed him, so he moved back, dragging her into the rack with him and laying on his side. With ease of practice, he got his hand under her shirts, stroking her belly in a way sure to make her turn and demand sex. Kara did not disappoint.
The rack was barely big enough for both of them, but they made do.
6. The endless fight over toilet paper.
"You took the last roll!"
"Can't we all just get along?"
7. Kara has no pants
"I thought you did laundry?" Kara yelled.
Sam, who had his back to her and was fixing breakfast, frowned. His wife yelling was usually not a good thing. Well, sometimes it was good, because sometimes it led to sex. "I did!"
"Then why are none of my pants clean, Sam?"
He glanced over his shoulder and took in the sight of his wife in her tanks and nothing else. Damn, she took his breath away.
"My eyes are up here, asshole."
"I like your legs better." He informed her, still staring at them.
"You want me to kick you?"
"Nope." Though her kicking her leg up would give him a nice view, too. Really, was it too much to ask that she stop being hot when she wanted to yell at him. Which was true. So he said, "Yelling would be more effective, if you weren't so hot."
Kara stalked closer, the movement of her legs telling him she was actually pissed.
Hey. He could deal with pissed. Probably.
"Take a good look. Because you're not getting to touch them for a while."
She punched him in the gut. "You should be."
"Ow. Gods. I must love you to put up with this." He reached out and grabbed her, hauling her against him with a sigh.
"Or maybe it's the sex."
A snort escaped her.
HAH. "Because the sex is really good. Orgasmic, energetic, hot, awesome..." He groped her ass. "Really good."
"Wanna demonstrate?" She suggested, tone silky.
"Since you're so nicely naked..." Sam kissed her chin, then licked her neck twice before dropping to his knees. Which gave him an excellent view of her legs. And if he looked up, her tits.
Damn, he was one lucky ass.
8. Sam/Kara and a kitten
Kara came home from a long day to find Sam with a kitten on his chest. A kitten. They, like everyone else, are scraping by on the scraps New Caprica sees fit to spare them, and he has a kitten? "Where the frak did that come from?"
"A woman named Morwen. She was very practical." Sam replied, looking at her upside-down. "Can we keep her?"
The kitten mewed.
Kara narrowed her eyes at the ball of fluff, "We can't keep her, Samuel."
"What will we feed her?"
Kara scowled at him, "Sam. Be smart, for once."
"Ouch." He petted the kitten, making her purr. The sound rumbled out into the tent, filling the space oddly, as though it belonged.
"The kitten--" Kara stopped, and sighed. "Stop petting her, Sam. You'll just get her more attached."
"Fine." Kara moved fast, scooped the kitten up and turned to toss her out of the tent. The kitten purred, snuggling against Kara's hand with a little sigh that made her pause.
"Told you," Sam murmured, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"Dammit." Cuddling the kitten under her chin, she sighed.
There are still civilians on --Galactica--. Most of them, Kara ignores. Hell, all of them, she ignores. The one man she wouldn't has walked off to another ship (better for them both, this way, she tries to convince herself). Except for Kacey, of course. But Kacey is Kacey, and even though she's told Julia this is a bad idea, inevitably, the little girl will find her way to crew quarters or Kara will wander by the cargo bay to see them.
It's weird, hugging the kid, weird and yet strangely fitting--no one else deserves Starbuck.
Starbuck doesn't even deserve Starbuck.
Usually, it's after she sees Kacey that she finds herself giving Sam a call. Finds herself dropping her boots outside the door and shoving him into her rack.
Kacey was a lie.
10. Yes, more back from the dead fic.
"So. You're alive."
"So. You're a Cylon."
That seemed to be that.
Funny, Kara had always wondered about Sam's stamina. It certainly hadn't changed.
11. The first time they saw each other naked.
He's seen her back--couldn't help but see it while she cursed at Mina as the nurse's assistant cleaned her wounds and put bandages here and there. And Kara had just taken her shirt off without seeming to care who was watching. Like it was casual for her to be naked around people she didn't know.
But this is different.
This is naked while she's staring at him with that mix of bravado and surprise and lust. She's going to frak him (or he's going to frak her. Or, if worse comes to worse, this will end horribly and he'll never be able to look her in the eyes again).
Playing pyramid didn't really prepare him for the way she has sex. The physical push and shove that leaves him aching and leaning against the wall watching her strip as fast as she can.
Naked is way better, though, he decides. Because she's beautiful.
Even with the bruises and scrapes from her fight with the cylon, she takes his breath away.
"Gonna actually do anything, or is looking enough for you?" she asks, tone mocking.
His shirt joins hers on the floor, and its her turn to watch him--Sam doesn't give her time to gawk, though, catching her between him and the wall and making them both gasp.
Definitely better than pyramid.
12. Sam tries to teach settlers on New Caprica how to play pyramid...Kara makes snide comments throughout
"This is all you got?"
Sam ducked and threw the ball at Kara.
She caught it, easily, then snorted, and gestured at the few people who'd shown up to learn to play pyramid. "Really, Sam. If I'd known you wanted to be bored, I'm sure I could have come up with something better."
"Bite me," he suggested, grabbing her and trying for the ball.
She slithered back, snickering. "I'm not that easy, honey. You want the ball, you're gonna have to get it."
Now the few people watching looked almost interested.
Sam figured that was because they weren't used to a free sex and grope show. His hands slid up the back of Kara's shirt, making her gasp slightly in surprise. "You wanna play dirty, Kara?"
"Lots of mud, Sam." She yanked away, then shoved at him, over-balancing him backwards into the muck.
He took her down with him, though, and held onto her when she would have escaped. "Happy?"
Sam rolled, pressing her into the mud and grinning. "Now we need showers."
A handful of mud was shoved down his shirt. "You need one more than me."
"Probably." He kissed her, completely distracted.
13. Sam moves his things into Kara's locker/Kara decides to take the locker back, now that she's back from the dead and all
The pair of dirty socks aren't hers. Probably. Kara stares at them, balled into the bottom of the locker, on top of her box (it's still her box, right?). There are other things that aren't hers. A pair of pants that are longer than she is tall (almost), for one thing. Large boots. And a pyramid ball. Hers got lost on New Caprica, and this one...
A hand reaches over her shoulder, grabbing it. "I'll get my stuff out of your way."
Of course. Of course, of course it would be his stuff. Of course... Kara closes her eyes. He'd become her, in a way that scared the shit out of her--trying to be a pilot to hide his pain. And he'd taken her place, her space... probably slept in her rack and pulled himself off to the scent of her.
And she doesn't know what to say about it. There's something frighteningly intimate about his socks mixed with her underwear and his pants next to her uniform.
"I haven't touched the idols," he murmurs, hand grabbing for his pants.
He's still standing so damned close she can feel him breathe in. "Thanks."
The dismissive tone doesn't phase him. He reaches over her shoulder again and Kara grabs his hand. "Sam. Just don't, ok?"
"I thought you'd want it all gone, out of your way," he's almost calm. But Kara knows him in ways that scare her. His voice is catching, soft in one spot like he's about to look away from her to hide how much this hurts.
So she turns, because there doesn't seem anything else to do. Her mouth is open to say something to break the tension, and she freezes, eyes riveted to the tags on his chest.
She'd given it back. It had been the closest thing she had to a promise, and he'd taken it and let her make him walk away. Like he was doing now. Anything she wanted, and he let it happen. Sometimes he pushed and she broke and ran, so he was learning not to push.
He isn't prepared for her arms sliding around his neck, hands tangling into his hair (shorter than before, and she --misses-- the length).
This, they can do. Kissing, sex, touching. They're good at this part. It's the emotions that she sucks at.
Pulling back, she steps out of the circle of his arms, licks her lips and says, "Sam. Your stuff stays."
Then she's gone, blindly moving away from something that feels like it was a --promise--, like it's concrete and binding and when she least expects it, someone will collect.
Quartermaster, she thinks as she turns a corner. She can get a new room, a new rack, a new locker. Sam's stuff can stay. Hers can move.
It's just a pity there's nowhere for her to go.
14. How Sam convinced Kara to move down to New Caprica
"You can open your eyes."
Kara doesn't want to, but she can taste something like rain on the breeze--everything on New Caprica feels like Caprica, but she doesn't think it's true--so she opens her eyes, raising them to the cloudless sky, searching.
"Down here." Sam tugs at her shoulder, then sweeps an arm around himself, "I figure. Build a nice cabin here. There's a good view, and it's quiet."
"Yeah." A snicker escapes her, "Sam Anders, settler. It'll look good on your gravestone."
He shrugs. "I have to do something with myself, Kara."
That, again. She shrugs and looks away. Like her, Sam doesn't like doing nothing with himself. He'd rather have the land and sky than be cooped up in a metal box with only paper to push. She can't blame him, even if she wants to. "Yeah."
"So... You can visit me, you know." He suggests, tone diffident.
Visiting is more concrete than random sex in her rack, she decides. But less concrete than dragging 20 raptors back to Caprica just to rescue his ass. "Who says I'd want to visit?"
He looks at her, hand coming up to brush the dogtag still hanging around his neck. He hasn't given it back, and Kara hasn't asked for it. She's not sure she wants to. "Too provincial for you?"
"Nah. Visiting's boring... So, for that matter, is civilian flying, Sam." She reaches out and touches his hand, closing both their sets of fingers over the piece of metal. "I hated it before the Cylons invaded. I think I'll hate it worse, now."
"Kara, you don't--"
"I'm keeping my options open," she whispers, moving closer and stretching up to kiss him. "I might change my mind tomorrow."
He wraps his free arm around her, "But for tonight?"
"Tonight, I'm planning on building a cabin, here. I think I like the view, not to mention the company."
"So do I."
15. Sam is high on pain meds. Kara gets to torment him about it.
"You're not real."
Kara sighs, because he's said that five times now. She's been counting, because counting is about all she can do when she's locked up in a cell. She could do pushups, but that requires energy she doesn't want to waste.
Across from her, in another cell, Sam tilts his head sideways and waves at her. Or tries to. It's hard, since the Cylons shackled him and the drugs they gave him are making him weak and uncoordinated.
"I'm real, Sam. Now shut up."
And he does, because it might actually be her that's talking to him. Or maybe she's still fake.
Kara feels a little scared that she can see this thought process work its way across his face. Whatever they gave him was good. It's making him useless if she gets free. And the thought that she might have to leave him if she escapes is not a happy one.
"You are such an idiot," she calls. "Letting yourself get caught."
"Can't call me an idiot if you ain't real," he informs her loftily.
"I am real, Sam. And you are an idiot."
He giggles, "No you're not."
It was going to be a long wait for him to sober up enough to make escape an effective plan. Kara settled down, back to her own wall, and prayed.
"You're not real."
16. Sam's hands.
She likes it when he skims her ribs, fingers stroking down into the hollows of her hips before moving back up to just under her breasts. The pads of his fingers are soft, but the callouses on his palms catch at her skin in a way that makes her want to arch. Makes her ache to have them touching her everywhere. Sometimes, he strokes down to her legs, then her feet, stopping to kiss her knees (which makes her laugh, because that's so pointless--but then he sucks on the back of one, and, --gods--).
If she had dimples, she knows he'd mock her for them. Since she doesn't, he likes to tell her which bits of her he adores most--usually all of them, in some random order that makes her laugh at him.
She has to laugh, because it's stupid to feel like this, to feel this knife's-edge of want and need that has something underneath it that feels terribly solid. It's when he concentrates so hard, touching her skin and making her ache more than she should that she bites her hand or her lips or his shoulder to keep from crying out.
It's not that she's afraid she'll cry out for Lee. She's over and past that.
She's afraid she'll cry out Sam's name.
That would make him something far more permanent than a pair of hands.
17. A table. (Whatever, I'm shallow)
"It's a table."
"I know that."
Sam picked her up and set her on the edge, easily nudging his way between her legs. He smirked, "It's a table that's a very nice height."
She shifted, poking a finger into his chest. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He kissed her, bending over and pressing her backwards against the wood.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, and one foot nudged his hip. "This works better if we're naked, Sam," she pointed out, voice husky.
"What, no foreplay?"
She laughed at him, then grabbed his hand and shoved it down her pants. "That answer your question."
"Right. Off with the clothes, Mrs. Anders."
18. Fitting Sam into one of the bunks on Galactica. (Because dude, that guy is like a tree)
"How does this work again?"
Kara stared at Sam. Really, there was no logical way that he should fit. Physics decreed that he was too damned tall. But then, Physics had probably gone for a nap after Sharon got them back from Caprica. Or maybe it had gone for a frak with Respectability.
He waved a hand at her from inside her rack, where he'd slid just a few moments ago. "Sam to Kara, are you there?"
"Yeah." She shed the last of her clothing and climbed in on top of him. "I'm pretty sure it works like this."
A gasp escaped him.
Yeah. It definitely worked like that.
19. Kara and Sam move into their tent?
The cot lasted exactly twenty minutes and thirty seconds. Kara was estimating, of course, but that was the point that the thing gave an alarming snapping sound and dumped her and Sam onto the rug they'd gotten from the Old Man as a wedding gift.
It was the first thing they'd put in the tent, once it was up. Then the cot. Then themselves, on the cot.
Kara began laughing at the look of outrage on Sam's face.
Which made him tickle her. In retaliation, she groped him.
And, inevitably, they forgot about the cot until they were sated and soaked in sweat.
Kara stretched lazily against his chest and sighed, "That's what I call moving in." There was a stack of crates and two duffels of clothing that they should really put away, at some point.
His hands on her hips, Sam nodded. "Good idea, really." He shifted a little, then sighed happily.