disclaimer: not mine (though my versions aren't exactly
rating: PG/13, language, reference to adult situations
set: in the middle of 4.2 (or 4.4 if you count Razor as 1 and 2)
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
Notes: sleepy now. *goes to bed*
before morning comes
by ALC Punk!
Restless. That was the word for it as Sam shifted in his rack, trying to get comfortable. Again. Shit. He had CAP in the morning, and nothing was working. He'd tried counting kittens and raptors, tried holding his breath, tried relaxing--tried one or two other things, too. Nothing seemed to work. Maybe too much had happened over the last few days.
Knew you were too mean to die...
His sore cheek twinged extra, and he sighed. Maybe he should stop thinking about it. Maybe he should just take the pistol to the face as the sign that her frakking Apollo was just the tip of the iceberg.
And maybe he thought too frakking much.
Turning over didn't help. Neither did the half-hearted attempt to pull himself off. His body was eager, his brain just wasn't in the mood.
Frak, he needed to sleep, or he'd be too sluggish in the cockpit in the morning.
Another eon passed before he gave up. Hell. Godsdamn, he was an idiot. But he knew one thing that would put him to sleep. It was frakking ridiculous, and it wasn't something he'd heard or been around for months--not since New Caprica, really. The very idea that he needed this sound shook him a little, and he called himself ten kinds of fool even before he dragged himself out of the rack.
Getting up, he pulled his pants back on, grabbed his pillow and headed out of the mostly-silent rackroom. Someone muttered at him, but most of the rest were sleeping. Or trying to. He hoped they had more success than he did.
The marine on duty looked uncertain when he walked in. Sam ignored him and moved to the bars, figuring if the guy was going to shoot him, he'd have to call CIC for orders, first.
Inside the cell, a place she'd once joked about being her second home, Kara was dead to the world, snoring and his lips curved into a slight smile, remembering the sound from countless nights in their tent on New Caprica.
Of course, with no accompanying smell of mud and mold, it wasn't exactly the same experience.
Dropping his pillow, Sam turned and sat down on it, using the bars of her cell as a backrest. With a sigh, he pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and regretting not grabbing his blanket on the way. Frak, though, Kara used to complain about the heat he gave off.
And although it had been a long time since he'd been privileged enough to hear them, it didn't take him long to drift into sleep, the familiar sound of Kara's snores chasing him down into dreams filled with candles, tents and pistols pointed at his head.
Sam was snoring.
Turning over, Kara poked at him, wondering sleepily why the frak he couldn't remember to sleep on his side.
When she couldn't find him next to her, she frowned. The sense of loss that gripped her woke her the rest of the way, and with that loss came memory. Reality wasn't as pleasant as the weight of Sam's body next to hers. Not that she'd ever experience that again, most likely. Although the stupid idiot seemed to like coming back, she had sort of hit him.
Guilt made her wrap her arms around herself, the emptiness and uncertainty worse at this time of night. She could feel Earth, somewhere, but it was just a dim pulse. What kind of person was she? Maybe Roslin was right. Maybe she was a Cylon, if she could be so cold-blooded towards her own husband.
It occurred to her that Sam was still snoring, which was wrong.
The Old Man wouldn't lock him up for getting knocked out, after all.
Kara frowned and opened her eyes. It didn't take her long to find Sam, back against the bars and head back so that every breath out made a soft snore.
A rush of emotion she refused to name made tears blur in her eyes. She wiped them before they became more than just a fine mist and got up.
The marine at the desk looked like he wanted to get up, or call CIC to make sure he was authorized to allow her to move around.
"It's ok," Kara whispered, scooping up her pillow and blanket.
Resolutely ignoring him (he probably thought she was nuts anyway), Kara copied Sam, sitting on her pillow with her back to the bars. If she leaned her head back, she could bump his shoulder. Wrapping her blanket around herself, she wriggled and tried to relax.
Sam was cold.
Reaching back through the bars, Kara put her hand on his back. Well, not cold. But he didn't have a blanket, and he wasn't giving off heat like a furnace.
Muttering, she turned and looked through the bars, "Hey. You got an extra blanket out there?"
The marine just gave her a confused look.
"Shit." Kara swore again and disentangled herself from her blanket. Gods. The things she did to keep Sam from freezing his ass off. Idiot was forever claiming he couldn't feel the cold. One of these days, she'd duct tape him to the outside of the ship in a flight suit. See how he liked the cold, then.
The sheet on her bed wasn't much, but Kara stripped it off anyway and brought it back. Feeding it through the bars, she sort of draped it over Sam. It'd have to do, she decided with another curse about stupid love-sick fools and the idiots who wouldn't go away. She settled back down at his back, pressing as close as the bars would allow, and wondering what the hell she was doing this for.
At least he was a little bit warm.
Figuring she wouldn't sleep, Kara started counting vipers.
Annoyingly, Sam's snores combined with the uncomfortable position didn't actually keep her awake.
The marine stared at Starbuck and Anders and shook his head. Damn. Another note for the latest gossip about them. People were already spinning about that kiss she'd shared with Apollo, and now here she was, being... adorable, he supposed was the word. She was being adorable and snuggling up with her husband.
And they were both snoring.
It was going to be a long night.