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My entries for the Hugs Cuddles and Kisses Challenge, with the pairing Kara Thrace/Sam Anders.
Title: A Fire on New Caprica
Rating: PG
Prompt: Firelight
Summary: Their third night in the tent, Anders builds a fire out back.
Their third night in the tent, Anders builds a fire out back. It’s a pretty awful fire, really, the wood is wet, and won’t light, and when it does light it smokes terribly, and produces very little heat or light, but its still a fire, and Sam’s proud of it, even if Kara will insist on mocking it.
“Gods,” she says from the tent, “I’ve married a pyromaniac, haven’t I?”
He turns, and grins at the sight of her, hair mussed, leaning against a tent pole.
"Actually," she continues, "No, I haven't. Pyromaniacs can light fires that actually burn."
She smirks at him.
"It burns," he protests.
"Oh, please. I've had fumarellos burn better than that."
He laughs and holds out a hand.
"Come and sit, its warm."
He's lying and Kara can tell he's lying, but she comes and flops down onto the ground next to him anyway.
"Liar," she says after a moment.
"I wasn't lying, I was stretching the truth."
Kara flaps her hand at him, lands a light slap on his arm.
"Like I said, Liar."
But she still doesn't get up. Instead, she leans against him, rests her head on his shoulder.
A gust of foul smelling smoke blows towards them, and she chokes, starts coughing. He blinks at her through stinging eyes as she brings her hands up to her mouth, and croaks something about moving to the other side of the fire.
"No point" he says, "Sod's Law of Bonfires- the Smoke is always blowing where you don't want it to."
He can tell that Kara's about to say something scathing, but she starts coughing, and by the time she's finished, the wind's changed, and, amazingly, the smoke seems to be going up more than around. At the same time, the fire is getting stronger, flames bright enough to light up Kara's face, and warm enough that they both draw a little closer.
Kara twists and kisses him, and her mouth is warm and, when he lifts his hand up, the skin on the back of her neck is delightfully soft. Not that it ever wasn't. He deepens the kiss, enjoying it, making it long, and languorous, and when they separate, he sees that her cheeks are read with the heat of the fire, and she looks like she's about to fall asleep. Sure enough, Kara gives a jaw breaking yawn, and leans against him, warm and pliant. He wraps his arm around her, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, New Caprica will get better, with nights like these to look forward to.
“Gods,” she says from the tent, “I’ve married a pyromaniac, haven’t I?”
He turns, and grins at the sight of her, hair mussed, leaning against a tent pole.
"Actually," she continues, "No, I haven't. Pyromaniacs can light fires that actually burn."
She smirks at him.
"It burns," he protests.
"Oh, please. I've had fumarellos burn better than that."
He laughs and holds out a hand.
"Come and sit, its warm."
He's lying and Kara can tell he's lying, but she comes and flops down onto the ground next to him anyway.
"Liar," she says after a moment.
"I wasn't lying, I was stretching the truth."
Kara flaps her hand at him, lands a light slap on his arm.
"Like I said, Liar."
But she still doesn't get up. Instead, she leans against him, rests her head on his shoulder.
A gust of foul smelling smoke blows towards them, and she chokes, starts coughing. He blinks at her through stinging eyes as she brings her hands up to her mouth, and croaks something about moving to the other side of the fire.
"No point" he says, "Sod's Law of Bonfires- the Smoke is always blowing where you don't want it to."
He can tell that Kara's about to say something scathing, but she starts coughing, and by the time she's finished, the wind's changed, and, amazingly, the smoke seems to be going up more than around. At the same time, the fire is getting stronger, flames bright enough to light up Kara's face, and warm enough that they both draw a little closer.
Kara twists and kisses him, and her mouth is warm and, when he lifts his hand up, the skin on the back of her neck is delightfully soft. Not that it ever wasn't. He deepens the kiss, enjoying it, making it long, and languorous, and when they separate, he sees that her cheeks are read with the heat of the fire, and she looks like she's about to fall asleep. Sure enough, Kara gives a jaw breaking yawn, and leans against him, warm and pliant. He wraps his arm around her, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, New Caprica will get better, with nights like these to look forward to.
Title: Untitled
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Nightmares
Summary: Four Dreams of Kara Thrace, On New Caprica
The first time she has the dream, Kara almost knocks Sam out of bed. The only thing that saves him from an inglorious dumping onto the muddy floor of their tent is the fact that, even half asleep, his reflexes are quick enough that he can grab hold of the bed frame, and stop himself from falling. When he looks at Kara, on the other side of the bed, she’s curled up in a ball in the corner of the bed.
“Kara?” he tries
“Don’t,” she says, “Just, don’t.”
Her voice breaks, and when Sam holds out a hand, she flinches and climbs out of the bed, taking the blanket with her.
“Kara,” he tries again, “What’s-“
Kara looks at him across the tent, eyes bright in the gloom,
“Seriously,” she says, “Don’t, Sam, I just, I can’t” She turns away, and Sam longs to touch her, to reach out and hold her, but he knows she won't accept it, not from him, not from anyone. Not now, and, from most people, not ever.
He lies down, feigns sleep, and waits as she wraps herself in the blanket, and goes to sleep on the floor. Once he’s sure she’s asleep, Sam lifts her back into the bed, and sleeps on the floor himself, instead. The next morning, neither of them mention the substitution, and Kara doesn't mention the dream, just acts as if nothing has happened, sitting on the bed pulling her boots on and teasing him about his cooking.
The second time Kara has the dream, Sam’s just back from a night out drinking with his friends. The tent flap’s barely fallen shut behind him when he hears her, making a strangled sound in the back of her throat, as she twists and turns. He kicks his boots off, lies down on the bed and puts his arms around her, muttering soothing nonsense into her hair, and stays like that for what seems like hours, until she relaxes against him, going limp. Sam falls asleep still holding her, and wakes up as she pushes him away, telling him that his breath stinks, and starts getting dressed. He watches her for a moment, appearing no different from a thousand other mornings, then follows her lead.
The third time Kara has the dream, Sam doesn’t wake up, at least, not properly. He just turns over, throwing an arm across her, and mutters something at her collarbone, then kisses it and falls back into a deep sleep. Kara takes advantage of his state of unconsciousness to press herself against him, taking comfort from the fact that he’s there, and he’s warm, and his arm curls around her waist, keeping her at his side. She rolls her eyes, and, deciding that getting out of his embrace wouldn’t be worth the effort, falls asleep like that, swearing to herself as she goes that she’ll be the first one up, and he’ll never find out. (She isn’t. By the time she wakes, he’s up and cooking breakfast. But he doesn’t mention it, just kisses her and passes her a plate)
The fourth time Kara has the dream, Sam isn’t there. She wakes up in a big, cold, bed with Leoben leaning over her, running his hands over her hair and her face, and she reaches out and hits him in the face with the first thing that comes to hand (a bedside lamp). He falls back, skull smashed in, and she climbs out of the bed and over his body, then runs into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her (no locks, not since she locked herself in there for forty eight hours and he had to get Centurions to break the door down), and sits in the bath, head pressed to her knees, praying to Ares for revenge, and Artemis as the patron of women-warriors, and she needs their help, needs it so very much, because the dream is true. And she’s living it.
“Kara?” he tries
“Don’t,” she says, “Just, don’t.”
Her voice breaks, and when Sam holds out a hand, she flinches and climbs out of the bed, taking the blanket with her.
“Kara,” he tries again, “What’s-“
Kara looks at him across the tent, eyes bright in the gloom,
“Seriously,” she says, “Don’t, Sam, I just, I can’t” She turns away, and Sam longs to touch her, to reach out and hold her, but he knows she won't accept it, not from him, not from anyone. Not now, and, from most people, not ever.
He lies down, feigns sleep, and waits as she wraps herself in the blanket, and goes to sleep on the floor. Once he’s sure she’s asleep, Sam lifts her back into the bed, and sleeps on the floor himself, instead. The next morning, neither of them mention the substitution, and Kara doesn't mention the dream, just acts as if nothing has happened, sitting on the bed pulling her boots on and teasing him about his cooking.
The second time Kara has the dream, Sam’s just back from a night out drinking with his friends. The tent flap’s barely fallen shut behind him when he hears her, making a strangled sound in the back of her throat, as she twists and turns. He kicks his boots off, lies down on the bed and puts his arms around her, muttering soothing nonsense into her hair, and stays like that for what seems like hours, until she relaxes against him, going limp. Sam falls asleep still holding her, and wakes up as she pushes him away, telling him that his breath stinks, and starts getting dressed. He watches her for a moment, appearing no different from a thousand other mornings, then follows her lead.
The third time Kara has the dream, Sam doesn’t wake up, at least, not properly. He just turns over, throwing an arm across her, and mutters something at her collarbone, then kisses it and falls back into a deep sleep. Kara takes advantage of his state of unconsciousness to press herself against him, taking comfort from the fact that he’s there, and he’s warm, and his arm curls around her waist, keeping her at his side. She rolls her eyes, and, deciding that getting out of his embrace wouldn’t be worth the effort, falls asleep like that, swearing to herself as she goes that she’ll be the first one up, and he’ll never find out. (She isn’t. By the time she wakes, he’s up and cooking breakfast. But he doesn’t mention it, just kisses her and passes her a plate)
The fourth time Kara has the dream, Sam isn’t there. She wakes up in a big, cold, bed with Leoben leaning over her, running his hands over her hair and her face, and she reaches out and hits him in the face with the first thing that comes to hand (a bedside lamp). He falls back, skull smashed in, and she climbs out of the bed and over his body, then runs into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her (no locks, not since she locked herself in there for forty eight hours and he had to get Centurions to break the door down), and sits in the bath, head pressed to her knees, praying to Ares for revenge, and Artemis as the patron of women-warriors, and she needs their help, needs it so very much, because the dream is true. And she’s living it.
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Date: 2007-04-16 06:38 am (UTC)From:The second one is full of beautiful tenders moments and then you put my heart in my throat as her last dream was real *whimpers*
These were great!