[fanfic] let us bury it; bsg, kara/leoben; pg13
title; rating: let us bury it; pg13
fandom, pairing; wordcount: battlestar galactica, kara/leoben; 739
notes: written for this little ficathon a while ago (just never posted it here) -- personal note? first time i've written this fandom in years. kinda scary!
Kara spends the last several days with shovels, with the crisp sound the earth makes when she presses it into the ground, all of her weight behind her, tiny roots breaking, rocks scraping. She can feel the weight of the dirt at the end of the blade when she lifts it above the edge of the trench, tossing it as far as she can manage, which isn’t far, her arms tired from hours of work.
Leoben’s boots come into view, and he kneels over her, casting a welcome shadow across her eyes and reaching out to hand over a canteen filled with cool water.
“Come inside,” he says. “Hole will still be here in the morning.”
Kara never lets him help her, even when he tries, which he pretty much stopped doing since the first time she grumbled a tight-lipped “Don’t,” her fingers curled into instinctive fists at her side. He knows, as well as she does, that there will always be a part of her that believes she deserves to be punished. The closest she lets him get is a spot in the nearby grass, twisting tiny white flowers into necklaces, keeping her company with the starshine beating down on both of them, not even an illusion of wind through the still branches above them, just his voice, low and full of earnest, offering stories she now accepts as truth.
Sometimes she lets him milk the goats.
She takes his hand now, dropping the shovel to the ground when he eases her over the edge. Kara closes her eyes and, lacing her fingers through his, follows him blindly. Some things in life, you promise yourself you’ll never do, and then you find you’ve let yourself down: over and over again. She can no longer feel the blisters on her fingers, or the throbbing in her feet, or the thin layer of dirt that coats every visible inch of her skin. She can only feel Leoben’s hand in hers as he leads her inside the cabin.
The shower bed is lined with tiny particles of earth, the remnants of her day’s work stubbornly clinging to the bottom, refusing the drain. Kara watches the water swirl around the opening, and then swishes her feet around in it, kicking up the dirt until it catches in the current and the water runs clean.
Leoben is in charge of the meals. Kara has taken over the gardens and the animal care, to an obsessive degree, and Leoben is in charge of turning the fruits of her labor into something resembling food. Tonight, he has cooked them orange-colored root vegetables, a salad, and poultry for dinner. Kara teases him, telling him he could have spruced it up with a little bread. He grins and produces a long, crusty loaf, which she snatches from his hand. Her favorite.
She likes the sound of his laugh.
Here, they have time for games. They have time to be silly and tell each other stories and forget about all the things that had made them so damn serious in another life. In this life, Leoben can kiss her fingertips and tell her that the bruises will heal. Kara can rest against his chest, can let all of the air out of her lungs, close her eyes, and feel at peace.
“I saw this,” Leoben sometimes says, his voice low, a whisper, a growl. “I knew this was going to happen.”
“Shhh…” Kara warns, and then quiets his words with her lips.
Leoben responds in kind. Always, always. He flips her over on the couch, and nudges her legs open with his, pressing himself against her.
After, in their bed, Kara finds herself drifting to sleep with the thought of a memory.
“I’m glad you came with me,” Leoben says. It’s their first day at the cabin, and Kara is standing at the back door, watching the rain come down in sheets. “I think we’ll like it here better than the city.”
It had been so long since she had smelled real air, felt the rain on her face, wet grass and mud between her toes.
She takes off her shoes and opens the back door, reaching for Leoben’s hand.
“Do you smell that?” she asks, squeezing his fingers.
Leoben grins, lowering his head, a blush at his cheeks. And for the first time, Kara grins back.
fandom, pairing; wordcount: battlestar galactica, kara/leoben; 739
notes: written for this little ficathon a while ago (just never posted it here) -- personal note? first time i've written this fandom in years. kinda scary!
Kara spends the last several days with shovels, with the crisp sound the earth makes when she presses it into the ground, all of her weight behind her, tiny roots breaking, rocks scraping. She can feel the weight of the dirt at the end of the blade when she lifts it above the edge of the trench, tossing it as far as she can manage, which isn’t far, her arms tired from hours of work.
Leoben’s boots come into view, and he kneels over her, casting a welcome shadow across her eyes and reaching out to hand over a canteen filled with cool water.
“Come inside,” he says. “Hole will still be here in the morning.”
Kara never lets him help her, even when he tries, which he pretty much stopped doing since the first time she grumbled a tight-lipped “Don’t,” her fingers curled into instinctive fists at her side. He knows, as well as she does, that there will always be a part of her that believes she deserves to be punished. The closest she lets him get is a spot in the nearby grass, twisting tiny white flowers into necklaces, keeping her company with the starshine beating down on both of them, not even an illusion of wind through the still branches above them, just his voice, low and full of earnest, offering stories she now accepts as truth.
Sometimes she lets him milk the goats.
She takes his hand now, dropping the shovel to the ground when he eases her over the edge. Kara closes her eyes and, lacing her fingers through his, follows him blindly. Some things in life, you promise yourself you’ll never do, and then you find you’ve let yourself down: over and over again. She can no longer feel the blisters on her fingers, or the throbbing in her feet, or the thin layer of dirt that coats every visible inch of her skin. She can only feel Leoben’s hand in hers as he leads her inside the cabin.
The shower bed is lined with tiny particles of earth, the remnants of her day’s work stubbornly clinging to the bottom, refusing the drain. Kara watches the water swirl around the opening, and then swishes her feet around in it, kicking up the dirt until it catches in the current and the water runs clean.
Leoben is in charge of the meals. Kara has taken over the gardens and the animal care, to an obsessive degree, and Leoben is in charge of turning the fruits of her labor into something resembling food. Tonight, he has cooked them orange-colored root vegetables, a salad, and poultry for dinner. Kara teases him, telling him he could have spruced it up with a little bread. He grins and produces a long, crusty loaf, which she snatches from his hand. Her favorite.
She likes the sound of his laugh.
Here, they have time for games. They have time to be silly and tell each other stories and forget about all the things that had made them so damn serious in another life. In this life, Leoben can kiss her fingertips and tell her that the bruises will heal. Kara can rest against his chest, can let all of the air out of her lungs, close her eyes, and feel at peace.
“I saw this,” Leoben sometimes says, his voice low, a whisper, a growl. “I knew this was going to happen.”
“Shhh…” Kara warns, and then quiets his words with her lips.
Leoben responds in kind. Always, always. He flips her over on the couch, and nudges her legs open with his, pressing himself against her.
After, in their bed, Kara finds herself drifting to sleep with the thought of a memory.
“I’m glad you came with me,” Leoben says. It’s their first day at the cabin, and Kara is standing at the back door, watching the rain come down in sheets. “I think we’ll like it here better than the city.”
It had been so long since she had smelled real air, felt the rain on her face, wet grass and mud between her toes.
She takes off her shoes and opens the back door, reaching for Leoben’s hand.
“Do you smell that?” she asks, squeezing his fingers.
Leoben grins, lowering his head, a blush at his cheeks. And for the first time, Kara grins back.