Disclaimer: not mine.
Genre: AU, future fic, fluff, slice of life Pairing: Kara/Sam Length: 1000+ Rating: PG? Vaguely fluffy sexual innuendo. Spoilers: I'd go with 'for the whole show', I think.
Notes: this is an AU, that I think started life as future New Caprica fic. I can't be certain, as there weren't planetary designations in the notes I'd written-and I assumed this was set on a different planet before I'd re-read the whole thing. It must have been written after the season three finale, however. The title is taken from Mirah's 'Gone Are The Days'

Future's Never Gonna Lay Down
by ALC Punk!

Kara Thrace had finally gotten her cabin in the woods.

Every morning, she dragged herself out of bed to go for a run. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, she managed some sort of milage. Her feet pounded the ground and her breath echoed against the woods that still surrounded the combined human and cylon settlement on Earth. It didn't matter anymore that they'd been enemies-sometimes, she liked to think that was even true.

But having her cabin made up for a lot of the difficulties they'd had learning to work together. To forgive (there were some things that were unforgivable, though, and there were far-flung settlements that had nothing to do with theirs). To forget (those first years had been exceptionally rocky).

On that particular morning, she'd stopped to bask in the early-morning sunlight as she walked back up the hill. These early mornings were slowly leaving, with the winter coming and she was storing up that crisp and warm feeling for the dark months ahead. She didn't normally dawdle, but it was an exceptionally nice morning, and she would miss those when the snow was thick.

Eventually, she returned to the cabin that she and Sam had built with help. It was a snug little place, well-protected from the elements with a good roof and good placement amongst the trees (in a hundred years' time, it might be falling down, but that was far in the future). As she neared the front porch, admiring the lines of it again, a bellow came from inside. There was movement at one of the windows that told of her (really ugly) curtains being twitched.

"Woman!" Her husband shouted as he stumped out onto the porch, "Where have you been?"

"I went for a run, old man," she called back, tone caustic. "You did notice it was morning, didn't you?"

He harrumphed. "I'm old, not stupid."

"Jury's still out on that," Kara suggested as she strolled up to him. To her critical eye, Sam looked tired-the cold nights were taking their toll on him. Cylon or not, his joints still ached and his bones still calcified.

"You're insulting me," he suggested, trying a hurt look that hadn't worked when he'd been forty years younger.

"I'm always insulting you. Having some memory problems there?" Her tone solicitous, she patted his arm, "We could take you down to New Caprica, have the Doc there look you over?"

"Nope-" grinning, he suddenly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up a little to twirl them both around, "How 'bout we play hooky and spend the day in bed?"

"Knowing you," she teased, letting her hands cup the back of his neck, "It's gonna take that long just to get it up."

"Ouch." He bent to kiss her, but dodged and bit her chin instead.

"Ass," she said fondly, catching his head and kissing him. As much fun as playing hooky sounded, she was going to have to burst his bubble. She might not want to organize whatever it was Lee and that Six of his had come up with, but she had promised she wouldn't back out on it. Besides- "We told Hera we'd watch the boys today, remember?"

He snorted, "No more jokes about my memory, Mrs. Anders. Of course I remember." He heaved a sigh that ended in a half-cough.

Kara felt a momentary flash of worry-she always did when he coughed, but it'd been getting worse in the last two years. The long ago bout of pneumonia on New Caprica had left him more susceptible to chest ailments as he'd gotten older. It was probably nothing (yet), and she bottled the worry for a later time.

"I also remember," he continued, "that Hera told me not to let you teach them about explosions."

"But they like demolitions." It was more the principle of the thing, than a real desire to waste resources on bombs. Besides, sometimes, she still thought everyone should know how to blow up a rock or two.

With a patience that was probably why their marriage had lasted so long, he pointed out, "Kara, they're five."

She knew that. Hera's grandchildren had grown fast, just like their mama had. Just like Hera herself had. It was hard to think that the tiny baby Sharon Agathon had once held so tightly was a great-grandmother these days, because it reminded Kara that there were people who were no longer with them.

They hadn't had children of their own-Kara had her own reasons for not wanting them, and Sam had never pushed. During the early days of the settlement, Kara had let him volunteer their tent for kid-watching duty whenever he felt like it-everyone was needed to raise the next generation of the settlement, and a tent with a cylon and a human seemed the best way to keep the children from learning their parents' prejudices. And the Agathons couldn't take them all the time.

Kara had always figured she could give them back, so it worked out all right for her.

As Roslin had once decreed, the colonials were being fruitful and multiplying. Or maybe that had been a cylon injunction. No one really wanted to discuss it much anymore.

Those that couldn't have children (or like Kara, refused) donated genetic material, to be used in enlarging the gene pool. Kara figured there were at least four boys and six girls who'd had Sam's eyes after the second year of settlement. She'd never speculated about little blonde girls, but one of the current viper pilots had Jean's red hair, hazel eyes and a disposition worthy of Starbuck when she'd been in her second year of her Galactica tour.

Of course, the newest generation of vipers weren't anything like the versions she'd flown on Galactica. They'd kept the technology that they could, but there were some things they couldn't manufacture so easily. There were no computer guidance systems, and most of them ran on something that resembled the old Chief's rotgut, with propellers to get them airborne and keep them in flight. Kara'd taken a few up, even at her age. It was a little like flying a rickety old crate, and more exhilerating than running down a mountain.

Sam poked her side and bumped noses with her, "We should get breakfast before going down to the council house."

"Yeah." She made a face, "I need a bath, too."

He leered, "I'll wash your back."

"Old man," she said as she walked into their cabin; they wouldn't be expected for another hour anyway. They had time to kill. "You always wash more than my back."

"That's what makes it fun."

She was still chuckling when he dragged her back to bed for something slightly more strenuous than a simple bath.

They were only half an hour late to the council house, and they didn't bother with breakfast.