BSG ficlet: Fine Tuning (Kara, Kara/Anders)
Title: Fine Tuning
Character/Pairing: Kara, Kara/Anders
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Post-"Crossroads." A not uncomplicated--and certainly not easy--yet more positive outlook for Kara. I suppose that's all I can say without being spoilery. If attempts at a relatively shiny future, however much it aims to be relatively canonical, sounds like something that would irk you in Kara!fic, don't read, okay? 1200 words.
Note: For demonqueen666, who gave me the prompt secrets. I know I wandered away from it big time, but this is what came out of it, so I hope you like it anyway. :) And for lyssie, from one Sam girl to another.
Fine Tuning
When she came back, there were adjustments. Obviously. Some were profound and others were entirely mundane. She almost relished those normal, simple, everyday things, because they were more like surprises, mostly pleasant, than the soul-shaking shifts that some of the others could be.
For one, she had to learn to love her husband in a different way, knowing all the things she now knew about herself-about what she was capable of-and knowing, or at least feeling, that Sam had undergone his own kind of shift. This was a different marriage. Perhaps it would be worse, perhaps better; she wasn't sure yet. She was only sure that the physical logistics of having him among the nuggets-among her nuggets, whether she was instructing them or not-was intriguing.
He slept in a bunk so close she could pick out his breathing among the others', but not with her. That was tantalizing and frustrating at once, and it forced her to try out the newfound patience she'd come by. But it was comforting, too. She knew Sam, and she was happy to have him so close-in their living arrangements, in her flying-even when it was hard.
But she was also surprised to realize that being married to Sam hadn't really taught her everything she needed to know about the man, both things profound and mundane. She suspected that even he hadn't known about certain sides of himself until he put on a military uniform for the first time. It was singularly weird standing next to Sam in the head, watching him shave and brush his teeth, even though she'd seen him do those things dozens of times. This was her space, and, somehow, he seemed right at home in it.
She recognized how much things had changed while she was gone when she came into the head one day to find it empty-all but for the echoing of a familiar voice, singing. Sam wasn't exactly tone deaf, but the gods didn't gift him with a musical soul, either. But there was something charming about his singing, when it wasn't designed to make her nuts. He genuinely enjoyed himself, singing songs she knew and making some up entirely, and he made no apologies about it.
She'd heard him sing often enough, mindlessly as he worked, softly; or loudly, with a bravado bolstered by alcohol. What she hadn't heard before was him singing in the shower. Here on what she'd always thought of as her turf-but what decidedly wasn't anymore, at least not hers alone; she saw that now-Sam was comfortable enough to sing something…obnoxiously upbeat? Not particularly manly, either. That, she supposed, was part of the charm of it.
"You know," she said, rattling the nearest partition, hoping to startle him, "you're a brave man to be singing that kind of shit in here."
Rather than sound sheepish or embarrassed, he laughed heartily. "I've got nothing to prove to anybody, Captain Thrace."
She peeked in at him surreptitiously, watching the soapy water course down over his torso. Sure, it turned her on. She didn't know what she was anymore, but she wasn't made of stone. Sam had always lit her up faster than just about anybody else she'd ever known; maybe that had been part of the problem. But now she thought that his voice turned her on just as much as that long, lean body of his. They were both the same, somehow: confident, ready.
"Hell," she replied. "You've got everything to prove. But you won't have a damn bit of trouble doing that, if I know you."
After a moment, he cut the water off. His voice echoed up against the walls and floated out to her: "What're we talking about here, Kara?"
It still made her antsy, even after all these months, hearing his tone modify into that one he thought was a sufficiently casual cover for genuine curiosity and the need to understand her. Automatically, she countered it with her own blithe sort of manner.
"I don't know what we're talking about," she said, throwing his towel over the top. "But I think I'm talking about getting the frak out of here before both of us get busted for frakking in the shower."
At that, he peeked his head outside, his eyebrows raised, a hint of a smirk poised in his expression. "Oh, yeah?"
"Uh huh," she said, nodding, a grin warming her face.
Then suddenly he shook his head, casting off drops of water like a wet dog might. She didn't even squeal, just shook her head at him. He grinned in return, almost lasciviously. Almost. His face fell.
"I've got to be on deck soon," he said flatly as he continued toweling off.
She took in a deep breath, sighing as she nodded, finally, and said, "I know." She stepped aside to let him come out of the shower.
"Wow. I didn't except I'd get away from you that easy."
"It's not like…" She could feel something like panic pressing up out of her, threatening. It made her jittery, desperate to take hold of him and afraid to move at the same time. "Sam, you know-"
"Hey," he said, catching her elbow. He made sure she was looking into his eyes before he said, "I get it, babe."
"Okay."
"We've both got places to be, things to do. That's a good thing. We'll hook up later." A smile stole over his face. "Literally, I hope."
As he continued drying off then began to pull on his clothes, she realized that it bothered her that she wasn't acting like people expected her to. But only a little. As much as she felt the dissonance between the Kara Thrace that would've mocked her for giving up a quick public frak because she had responsibilities and the newer version, she also distinctly felt his words, that one in particular, babe, almost like a warm, familiar hand pressed over her heart, threatening to wrench it open to feeling. He was looking at her like she was curious and strange but…precious. That was still hard to take, the way her resurrection seemed to come over people's faces when they looked at her, like a glow and a shadow at once.
He was looking at her, but she was also looking at him, noticing what should've been obvious to her before. It was, in some abstract way, but now she felt it: this wasn't the Sam she'd known. He might still be her Sam-she didn't know, even if her tags lay against his chest again-but he wasn't the man he used to be. She wondered if she'd done this to him. She also wondered if the change felt to him just as disorienting as it did to her, if only because, for once in her life, she felt oriented, grounded. It took some getting used to, as much as it did seeing Sam pull on his tanks. He was a pilot now. Still learning, but firmly ensconced in her world. His world now. She thought she liked this version of the man very much.
Not that he was altogether foreign. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as he went past her, like had been his habit, and that made her more content than just about anything else could. Nervous, too, and overwhelmed; buzzing with it, feeling it like an itch under her skin. But she'd come to understand that feeling. She was learning to accept it and use it as fuel to burn, not to start a fire that would engulf her. And not to let the fear of it drive her away from the things she wanted and needed. It was a slow process, but she was learning that, too.
As she watched him go out of the room, she remembered the kinds of things she used to think when she met him, how she saw him then. Or maybe not exactly, because now she was thinking, not just reacting. And now, even if they were no more safe than they'd been on Caprica, watching the universe come crumbling down around them, she didn't dwell on it. That gave her infinitely more time and energy to dwell on him.
And on herself, too. As much work as she'd put behind her, there was infinitely more left to do. She was startled, like she was as she greeted every new day, to comprehend how that could be a blessing.
~
Character/Pairing: Kara, Kara/Anders
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Post-"Crossroads." A not uncomplicated--and certainly not easy--yet more positive outlook for Kara. I suppose that's all I can say without being spoilery. If attempts at a relatively shiny future, however much it aims to be relatively canonical, sounds like something that would irk you in Kara!fic, don't read, okay? 1200 words.
Note: For demonqueen666, who gave me the prompt secrets. I know I wandered away from it big time, but this is what came out of it, so I hope you like it anyway. :) And for lyssie, from one Sam girl to another.
Fine Tuning
When she came back, there were adjustments. Obviously. Some were profound and others were entirely mundane. She almost relished those normal, simple, everyday things, because they were more like surprises, mostly pleasant, than the soul-shaking shifts that some of the others could be.
For one, she had to learn to love her husband in a different way, knowing all the things she now knew about herself-about what she was capable of-and knowing, or at least feeling, that Sam had undergone his own kind of shift. This was a different marriage. Perhaps it would be worse, perhaps better; she wasn't sure yet. She was only sure that the physical logistics of having him among the nuggets-among her nuggets, whether she was instructing them or not-was intriguing.
He slept in a bunk so close she could pick out his breathing among the others', but not with her. That was tantalizing and frustrating at once, and it forced her to try out the newfound patience she'd come by. But it was comforting, too. She knew Sam, and she was happy to have him so close-in their living arrangements, in her flying-even when it was hard.
But she was also surprised to realize that being married to Sam hadn't really taught her everything she needed to know about the man, both things profound and mundane. She suspected that even he hadn't known about certain sides of himself until he put on a military uniform for the first time. It was singularly weird standing next to Sam in the head, watching him shave and brush his teeth, even though she'd seen him do those things dozens of times. This was her space, and, somehow, he seemed right at home in it.
She recognized how much things had changed while she was gone when she came into the head one day to find it empty-all but for the echoing of a familiar voice, singing. Sam wasn't exactly tone deaf, but the gods didn't gift him with a musical soul, either. But there was something charming about his singing, when it wasn't designed to make her nuts. He genuinely enjoyed himself, singing songs she knew and making some up entirely, and he made no apologies about it.
She'd heard him sing often enough, mindlessly as he worked, softly; or loudly, with a bravado bolstered by alcohol. What she hadn't heard before was him singing in the shower. Here on what she'd always thought of as her turf-but what decidedly wasn't anymore, at least not hers alone; she saw that now-Sam was comfortable enough to sing something…obnoxiously upbeat? Not particularly manly, either. That, she supposed, was part of the charm of it.
"You know," she said, rattling the nearest partition, hoping to startle him, "you're a brave man to be singing that kind of shit in here."
Rather than sound sheepish or embarrassed, he laughed heartily. "I've got nothing to prove to anybody, Captain Thrace."
She peeked in at him surreptitiously, watching the soapy water course down over his torso. Sure, it turned her on. She didn't know what she was anymore, but she wasn't made of stone. Sam had always lit her up faster than just about anybody else she'd ever known; maybe that had been part of the problem. But now she thought that his voice turned her on just as much as that long, lean body of his. They were both the same, somehow: confident, ready.
"Hell," she replied. "You've got everything to prove. But you won't have a damn bit of trouble doing that, if I know you."
After a moment, he cut the water off. His voice echoed up against the walls and floated out to her: "What're we talking about here, Kara?"
It still made her antsy, even after all these months, hearing his tone modify into that one he thought was a sufficiently casual cover for genuine curiosity and the need to understand her. Automatically, she countered it with her own blithe sort of manner.
"I don't know what we're talking about," she said, throwing his towel over the top. "But I think I'm talking about getting the frak out of here before both of us get busted for frakking in the shower."
At that, he peeked his head outside, his eyebrows raised, a hint of a smirk poised in his expression. "Oh, yeah?"
"Uh huh," she said, nodding, a grin warming her face.
Then suddenly he shook his head, casting off drops of water like a wet dog might. She didn't even squeal, just shook her head at him. He grinned in return, almost lasciviously. Almost. His face fell.
"I've got to be on deck soon," he said flatly as he continued toweling off.
She took in a deep breath, sighing as she nodded, finally, and said, "I know." She stepped aside to let him come out of the shower.
"Wow. I didn't except I'd get away from you that easy."
"It's not like…" She could feel something like panic pressing up out of her, threatening. It made her jittery, desperate to take hold of him and afraid to move at the same time. "Sam, you know-"
"Hey," he said, catching her elbow. He made sure she was looking into his eyes before he said, "I get it, babe."
"Okay."
"We've both got places to be, things to do. That's a good thing. We'll hook up later." A smile stole over his face. "Literally, I hope."
As he continued drying off then began to pull on his clothes, she realized that it bothered her that she wasn't acting like people expected her to. But only a little. As much as she felt the dissonance between the Kara Thrace that would've mocked her for giving up a quick public frak because she had responsibilities and the newer version, she also distinctly felt his words, that one in particular, babe, almost like a warm, familiar hand pressed over her heart, threatening to wrench it open to feeling. He was looking at her like she was curious and strange but…precious. That was still hard to take, the way her resurrection seemed to come over people's faces when they looked at her, like a glow and a shadow at once.
He was looking at her, but she was also looking at him, noticing what should've been obvious to her before. It was, in some abstract way, but now she felt it: this wasn't the Sam she'd known. He might still be her Sam-she didn't know, even if her tags lay against his chest again-but he wasn't the man he used to be. She wondered if she'd done this to him. She also wondered if the change felt to him just as disorienting as it did to her, if only because, for once in her life, she felt oriented, grounded. It took some getting used to, as much as it did seeing Sam pull on his tanks. He was a pilot now. Still learning, but firmly ensconced in her world. His world now. She thought she liked this version of the man very much.
Not that he was altogether foreign. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as he went past her, like had been his habit, and that made her more content than just about anything else could. Nervous, too, and overwhelmed; buzzing with it, feeling it like an itch under her skin. But she'd come to understand that feeling. She was learning to accept it and use it as fuel to burn, not to start a fire that would engulf her. And not to let the fear of it drive her away from the things she wanted and needed. It was a slow process, but she was learning that, too.
As she watched him go out of the room, she remembered the kinds of things she used to think when she met him, how she saw him then. Or maybe not exactly, because now she was thinking, not just reacting. And now, even if they were no more safe than they'd been on Caprica, watching the universe come crumbling down around them, she didn't dwell on it. That gave her infinitely more time and energy to dwell on him.
And on herself, too. As much work as she'd put behind her, there was infinitely more left to do. She was startled, like she was as she greeted every new day, to comprehend how that could be a blessing.
~