BSG ficlet: Wishing on Dandelions (pg-13)
Title: Wishing on Dandelions
Rating: PG-13
Beta: none
Word count: 504
Focus: Kara/Sam
Summary: Her wish is silent and she isn’t sure she’s offering it up to the gods or to the irritating man in danger of standing her up.
Warnings: possible schmoopiness
Author's notes: Written for the final battle (this round, anyway) at twelvecolonies for the prompt "wishing on dandelions." Go Team Basestar!
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Kara sits cross-legged in the grass, the green blades cool against her skin. The breeze, warm and smelling of life, like the sunshine baking into her bones, plays with her hair. The stem of the dandelion between her fingers is sticky with sap, just like her fingers and the palm of her hand; it’s not the first dandelion she’s blown all the seeds from.
“You said you’d be here, dammit,” she mutters, angry with him for his absence and herself for caring, then blows on the fluffy globe crowning the dandelion’s stem. Her wish is silent and she isn’t sure she’s offering it up to the gods or to the irritating man in danger of standing her up.
A shadow falls over her, blocking the sun’s heat, and she shivers. “Technically, I said I’d meet you on the other side,” he reminds her, amused.
“Mother frakker,” she accuses, but it’s said with a grin and the iron band that’s been squeezing her heart since she saw him drop with a bullet in his brain eases its grip. She plucks a bright yellow flower and throws it at him, striking him right between the eyes.
Laughing, Sam drops to the grass beside her. “I like what you’ve done with your uniform.”
Kara slants a look at him as he ogles her bare legs. She pulls a few loose threads from the ragged hem, flicks them at him. “I can fix yours, too, if you want,” she offers and reaches for her knife; the blade is stuck into the ground through what used to be her trouser legs. She tilts her head, gives him a wicked grin. “Take off your pants, rook.”
“It’s gonna be like that, is it?”
“I’m not a patient woman, Sam…”
He throws back his head and laughs; the sound of it sends a pleasant tingle down Kara’s spine. “No, Kara Thrace, that you are not.”
She leans toward him at the same time he reaches for her. He threads his fingers into her hair; she pushes him down into the grass, her palms flat against his chest. She straddles his hips, reveling in the solid feel of him, the rasp of his uniform trousers against her bare legs. He tucks her hair behind her ears, strokes a thumb over her lips.
“Gods, Kara, I’ve missed you,” he sighs and Kara sucks the tip of his thumb into her mouth. She bites down hard and he pulls his hand back. “Ow!”
She tilts her head, daring him to retaliate. “That’s for leaving me.”
Suddenly, she’s on her back, looking up at Sam, his weight pressing her into the ground. Their eyes meet, hold. “You left me first.” He’s backlit, surrounded by blue skies and fluffy white clouds and she can hear the ache in his voice.
“I came back,” she whispers. “Twice.” She pulls his head down and kisses him, a silent apology for all the times she’s left him, the times she’ll probably leave him again, a promise to always return.
Rating: PG-13
Beta: none
Word count: 504
Focus: Kara/Sam
Summary: Her wish is silent and she isn’t sure she’s offering it up to the gods or to the irritating man in danger of standing her up.
Warnings: possible schmoopiness
Author's notes: Written for the final battle (this round, anyway) at twelvecolonies for the prompt "wishing on dandelions." Go Team Basestar!
---------------
Kara sits cross-legged in the grass, the green blades cool against her skin. The breeze, warm and smelling of life, like the sunshine baking into her bones, plays with her hair. The stem of the dandelion between her fingers is sticky with sap, just like her fingers and the palm of her hand; it’s not the first dandelion she’s blown all the seeds from.
“You said you’d be here, dammit,” she mutters, angry with him for his absence and herself for caring, then blows on the fluffy globe crowning the dandelion’s stem. Her wish is silent and she isn’t sure she’s offering it up to the gods or to the irritating man in danger of standing her up.
A shadow falls over her, blocking the sun’s heat, and she shivers. “Technically, I said I’d meet you on the other side,” he reminds her, amused.
“Mother frakker,” she accuses, but it’s said with a grin and the iron band that’s been squeezing her heart since she saw him drop with a bullet in his brain eases its grip. She plucks a bright yellow flower and throws it at him, striking him right between the eyes.
Laughing, Sam drops to the grass beside her. “I like what you’ve done with your uniform.”
Kara slants a look at him as he ogles her bare legs. She pulls a few loose threads from the ragged hem, flicks them at him. “I can fix yours, too, if you want,” she offers and reaches for her knife; the blade is stuck into the ground through what used to be her trouser legs. She tilts her head, gives him a wicked grin. “Take off your pants, rook.”
“It’s gonna be like that, is it?”
“I’m not a patient woman, Sam…”
He throws back his head and laughs; the sound of it sends a pleasant tingle down Kara’s spine. “No, Kara Thrace, that you are not.”
She leans toward him at the same time he reaches for her. He threads his fingers into her hair; she pushes him down into the grass, her palms flat against his chest. She straddles his hips, reveling in the solid feel of him, the rasp of his uniform trousers against her bare legs. He tucks her hair behind her ears, strokes a thumb over her lips.
“Gods, Kara, I’ve missed you,” he sighs and Kara sucks the tip of his thumb into her mouth. She bites down hard and he pulls his hand back. “Ow!”
She tilts her head, daring him to retaliate. “That’s for leaving me.”
Suddenly, she’s on her back, looking up at Sam, his weight pressing her into the ground. Their eyes meet, hold. “You left me first.” He’s backlit, surrounded by blue skies and fluffy white clouds and she can hear the ache in his voice.
“I came back,” she whispers. “Twice.” She pulls his head down and kisses him, a silent apology for all the times she’s left him, the times she’ll probably leave him again, a promise to always return.