Title: Washed clean with rain (Reference) Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003) Summary: Kara started lying to Commander Adama the second she met him, and ten minutes later, she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop. Pairing: Kara Thrace/Bill Adama Rating: Adult Spoilers: For the miniseries and the backstory revealed in season 1. Notes: For Carla and T-1, with love. Thanks to Todd for beta-reading. Kara started lying to Commander Adama the second she met him, and ten minutes later, she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop. It was too late to come clean, take whatever blow he was going to give her career or her face, and roll with it. She was expecting to roll right out of the fleet if she got the words out of her mouth, the "I got your son killed," the "I lied," but it was easier to keep those in than she ever would've guessed. He knew about the engagement, or he figured it out -- guess you don't get to be the commander of a battlestar for nothing -- and he was broken up. She was broken up, and she could've figured out some other way to pay the rent -- not art, not teaching, but flying for some company. Too bad shuttle runs would've put her to sleep at the helm. She dreamed of crashing the hundredth time through a routine flight, along with explaining to the Commander exactly what she'd done. Over, and over, and over, before she even met him, when he was just a name and a picture. Meeting him didn't fix the dreams, but it fixed the hell out of everything else. Zak was gone, not coming back, and nobody and nothing could make her let him drag her down, too. In all those dreams where she spilled her guts, she never once figured on the Commander taking her under his wing after the funeral. Never thought she'd end up in the active part of the service, flying patrols out by the red line and seeing nothing and more nothing obscuring the stars. Active service in a fleet without an enemy, and it was the highest frakking honor the Commander could've given her. The wedding present she never deserved, she thought when she got the requested-and-required, and that didn't make her cry, but it made her remember to keep lying. He met her when she landed -- hands-on, all the way, and she'd known that, practiced for it 'til her hands shook, and the way he smiled at her in that pristine, pointless deck made them shake all over again. Making him proud. He didn't know then -- still doesn't -- what she thinks when people touch her. He clasped her shoulder and said, "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," and she smiled. She got good at smiling when people touched her bruises, once. So he had his hand on an open wound, even if it wasn't the kind anybody could see. So what? She smiled. "Thank you, sir. It's an honor to be here." "We're honored to have you," he said, and she got her paperwork, because there was nothing outside but stars, not then, and fuck-all for the Commander to do with his time. The CAG wasn't any worse than any other CAG she'd ever met, and he knew she had the Old Man's seal of approval, so he let the other pilots hide her gear, like she'd never lived in a bunk, and it wasn't 'til they'd broken one of her icons that he stepped in. She wasn't going to the Commander -- not Starbuck, and she'd been Starbuck before she got much past Caprica's orbit -- and she wasn't going to actually kill anyone. She dreamed about being thrown in the brig, too, and that wasn't anything she wanted to get herself into. Not for brawling, not when there was glue, and nobody had to know that the things came from her father, and that the only other thing she had from him was his music. And his genes, but they'd never done her a hell of a lot of good. As fathers went, the Commander got her higher, faster, and if her bunkmates hadn't known that, her father's icons would've survived the trip intact. As it was, the CAG smelled the glue, asked the whole bunk what broke, and she didn't say anything. She didn't stop the bastard who did it from raising his hand and saying that Thrace's stuff got a little frakked up in a, you know, normal stowing issue. Meaning she knew exactly who to blame. All she did was glare, then, and the CAG looked from her to the guys who weren't meeting anybody's eyes and let it go. They all knew, just like Kara did the second she met the XO, that there were a couple special sets of people on Galactica. There were the ones the Old Man thought were worthwhile who were the best at their job, like Chief Tyrol. And there were the ones who the Old Man thought were worthwhile who were complete wastes of the space they took up on deck, like the XO. Like Kara, even with her flight record, and didn't she frakking know it. All she could do was stop everybody else from figuring out which group she was actually in, use the best maneuvers a Viper could pull in deep space and be the wingman everybody wanted, once they knew what she could really do. It would've mattered, would've counted for something, if they were really at war. If they had something to do past just keeping themselves in shape and pretending that any second now, there could be Cylons on the dradis, and that if they stopped being ready, it might come. She could've gotten somewhere if there was anywhere to get. The only place she ended up was not in the list of people who were the Old Man's darlings who couldn't tie their frakking shoes without help, and she was only off that list for some people. Tigh was never, ever going to believe she was worth her pay. He'd have had a point if she'd been hired to teach somebody how to fly, but nobody needed that, so he was wrong. Mostly. She didn't realize there was anything special about the day the Commander asked her to talk to him about how she was settling in until she saw the orders and realized it was Zak's birthday. Not an important date to anybody else, but she made her excuses to the CAG and got herself ready to talk to the Old Man. He didn't look old when she saw him around the ship, but in his ready room, offering her a glass of brandy -- like the XO was probably drinking in CIC, with the Old Man off duty -- she made herself smile for him, not just for the ambrosia. Nobody talked about Lee on the Galactica, though she was damn sure people knew he existed. Now wasn't a good time to even think of him, to want to tell the Commander that everything wasn't frakked to hell, that somewhere Lee was doing everything any father could want his son to do, flying like Zak never could've, even if he'd studied another ten years. "Is everything all right?" he asked, like he cared. Like he really did care. Like he was looking right at her, and he knew her smile wasn't real. She had a quick burn of ambrosia and made it a little better. "Your ship is -- everything they said it was. Sir." He smiled, a tired little expression. "Backward and almost ready for retirement, yes." "No." It was out before she knew it. "Not what I meant, sir, it's --" she shook her head. "Everything out here feels like it's really ready for a fight. Gods, I hope it never comes to it, but if it does, they won't take you by surprise." That made the Commander's expression lighten a little. "We have the best set of pilots out here, at least," he said, as if she didn't know. And a second later, she realized it was a compliment. Damn crazy kind of compliment, but her commanders didn't give her many. Good flying, Thrace, you almost made it through the sim, Starbuck, but nothing like what he was giving her. "The CAP is pretty impressive," she said, and he laughed. "They are." And he gave her a smile that meant -- She had no idea what it meant. It wasn't the sad one, the one that said he'd wanted her to be in his little family, if his family was even talking to him. Lee didn't, at the funeral, not where she saw, and he didn't say anything to her except sorry, and she said sorry, and it was never going to be enough. It wasn't the smile that went with the Old Man who held her hand tight when she winced and knew, all over again, that Zak was gone. This was the smile that went with him being glad to see her because she's her, maybe. The one that didn't look like he had to drink a quart of rotgut before he could get his face to do that. "What do you think of the CAG?" he asked, and she felt a little dizzy. Somewhere in there was the man who was never going to stop being sad and angry. Angry at her, if he ever knew it. But right now -- that, there, was one dangerous question. "I haven't served with him long enough to make a --" "Off the record," he said, and raised his glass to her in a little toast. She shivered and tried to hide the way her hand was shaking. Worst things first: "I couldn't do better, sir." "Not what I wanted you for," he said, and that was worth another shiver. What had he wanted? They didn't need an instructor out here, and they didn't need pilots. There were more than enough for any battlestar, let alone this one. "No?" Sir, she didn't say, because her voice was shaking bad enough in her head without letting him hear it. He waved a hand like she was supposed to know what that meant. "You had top marks from all your instructors. I've served with some of those officers, and I knew they weren't kidding around with them." The truth was sticking in her throat. Frak knew what he'd do if she blurted it out. Kill her, maybe, and space the body, and nobody would ever blame him. So she laughed. "If you pulled my records, you know I'm a hell of a frak-up, sir." "Not where it counts." He leaned forward in his chair and gave her this look like he thought he knew what she was thinking. Thank the gods he didn't. "You still haven't told me what you think of the CAG." Kara licked her lips and took the seconds to try to figure out what he wanted to hear. "Off the record?" "Yes." He was still staring at her. She wanted him to stop right the hell now. "I -- don't always do well with my immediate superiors, sir. But I -- I can work with him." He'd read her records, and he had no idea what it did to her when he reached over and touched her arm. Light, but her heart pounded at it. Fight-or-flight, same as any sim real enough to make her believe for a second she could be in trouble. "That's good to hear." She smiled and drank, too much in a gulp and too quickly. "I'm still green compared to most of them," she said, and didn't mean it for a second. No battles out here, and none of them had sent a man to his death for love. "I bet they have a lot to teach me." The Commander was still giving her a look like he knew what was on her mind, but if he'd known how much she was wishing she was anywhere else, he wouldn't have squeezed her forearm before he sat back. "You have a lot to show them, too." "Thank you," she said. "I mean -- for everything. For getting me this position." He winced and looked away from her as if he could hide it, when he'd asked her there on Zak's frakking birthday. "It was the least I could do." "You didn't have to --" she said, but he focused on her, hard and fast. "Yes. I did." And sure, he was the Old Man, but no way was he old. Not when he had that fire in his eyes, like he believed you were the best. Almost made Kara believe it, just for that one moment. "Yes, sir," she said, and swore to herself to get out of the cabin while she still could, before she broke down and told him anything, before she told him what she thought of him. As if she could put that into words. "Did you want to ask me anything else, sir?" He shook his head. "No. But if you want to talk -- Kara -- I've got time for you." Not something everybody said to her by a long shot. "Thank you," she said, and stood up, and saluted. "I'll -- let you know." "Good," he said, and she left, a little wobbly in the knees, and not from the ambrosia. It was the look in his eyes, worse than the alcohol, worse than even the truth could have been. The look that said he believed in her, and he thought he knew exactly what he saw. That was the look that made it easy to keep lying to him. She didn't want their next appointment to be the anniversary of Zak's death -- it was all about him, but that was no damn reason to let it keep being all about him, and she might slip, despite everything, if she wasn't really frakkin' careful. So instead of the worst possible day, she closed her eyes and pointed at a calendar and went to see the Commander, even though she had frak-all to say. It wasn't like nothing ever happened on Galactica, but she figured the Old Man didn't care about the parts he didn't already know, and there probably weren't a hell of a lot of those. Not that big a ship, and not that many corners, even with the museum, that you could use to get good and private. She'd tried -- Helo was a damn good wingmate -- but there wasn't a lot of space for that kind of stuff, and they'd gotten whistled at and thumped on the back next time they went into the mess. Which, hell, he's a good-looking guy, and there wasn't any shame in it, but klicks from anywhere, it'd be too easy to wind up good as married, and she doesn't want that kind of shit, either. Chances were, the Old Man knew about that little escapade. His bad right hand sure did, and he never missed a chance to razz her about it. Like she cared what he thought. If the Commander had gotten on her case about it -- But he just gave her that same smile, like she was family and isn't it nice to see you, sweetie, have a cookie. Apart from how he said, "Have a seat, Lieutenant," and instead of a cookie, he handed her whisky. So he did know at least most of what went down in the pilots' mess, but he wasn't giving her the glare of "You have offended my son's memory and you're going to be busted so far down you'll have to say 'sir' to a nugget." It could be worse. The whisky couldn't be better. Before she knew what to say next, she was smiling. "Good news?" he asked, and she raised her glass to him, trying to cover the grin. "Nothing special," she said. "Just -- glad to be here." He gave her this look like no one says that to him, and she thought of his wife, clinging on Lee's arm and not talking to him for an entire funeral plus however many years it'd been. It made her want to be telling him the truth, and meaning it about being right where she was, not just on the Galactica. "Nice and quiet here." She waved her hand at his cabin. "Sometimes," he agreed, and she laughed. "When you don't have pilots cluttering the place up, anyhow." He put his hand on her arm and -- she didn't mind. She expected to, but -- "I don't mind the company." It was easier to drink than answer that right away. "Thanks. I --" She shrugged. "I don't really need anything, just --" The Commander patted her hand. "Have you read Tokisin's latest?" Prose-poetry, and nothing Zak ever said anything about. When he read anything, it was stuff on the level of the films he watched: bang, zoom, dead Cylons. Kara had The Broken Sky in hard copy in her locker. It was the only book she'd brought to Galactica, the only one she'd brought to the Academy. She didn't want to look too eager, though. "No, not yet." He picked up a gorgeous, heavy edition and held it out to her. "Would you like to?" It was just a book, not a promise. Not anything, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. "If you're done with it." The Commander laughed as she took it. "I'll want it back eventually." She ran her fingers over the binding. It was embossed, and it made her think of her father's books, back when she was allowed to touch them. "Of course. I --" She shook her head. "So what don't you know, sir?" It took him a few seconds to answer. "How to convince you that there doesn't have to be anything wrong for you to drop by." She set the book in her lap. "You don't get a lot of downshifts." He shook his head. "The Battlestar runs herself. Gods save us from getting any busier than we are, but right now, there's nothing I need to do." Kara bit her lip, then had another sip of whisky. "Loud and clear." If she was stuck on a ship two years from retirement with no one to talk to but the XO from hell, she'd ask everybody to party down in her cabin, too. More like a reading club than a party, maybe, and that was okay, too. She'd hate to see the Old Man hurt himself trying to have too much fun. "Good," he said, and she realized she hadn't said anything for a while. Way too long, because he asked, "Should I leave you to your reading?" She picked up the book again and put it on the table. "No, I was just thinking. About nothing much." She'd had a ridiculously small amount of whisky to be stammering like this, but it'd been a hell of a long time since anybody had been nice to her like this. "Ah," he said, and she looked toward the door. Nothing to say, nothing except thanks and good night. Not even good hunting, with nothing to hunt. "Sorry," Kara said, and got up. He stood up, too, quicker than she'd figured he could. "For what?" "I should --" She grinned and shook her head, asking him to laugh at her. "Should have something to say." "What about Tokisin made you drag him up here in hardcopy?" the Commander asked, and it was much easier than the actual hard questions. She still stammered over it. Literature wasn't her strong suit, and explaining it wasn't any better. But she figured that, "Myriah always made me feel like -- I could have been there," like she was, all the time, when she was a kid, "and -- and she got through it." Like she did, even though there were times she thought it was over. "And -- I don't know." "I can't reread the reunion scene with her mother," the Commander said. Not -- the Commander. Commanders didn't get -- misty-eyed like that. Ever. Kara had to take a deep breath and swallow before she could clear her throat enough to answer. "Me neither. I mean -- I can, but --" she shrugged, and glanced at him. He had the same wry, self-mocking expression she did. She puffed up her chest and put on her best tough voice. "Not like a book's ever made me cry." "Of course not," he said, and he was laughing without entirely laughing. "Just words on the page." He touched her shoulder again, and she knew, in a way that hit her like a shot of whisky, that he was about to kiss her. She hadn't figured on that -- hadn't thought it would've occurred to him, but there he was, and there she was, and -- For half a second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her cheek, but it was softer than that, and more hesitant, and over faster. And then he was the one backing off, saying, "Sorry," and "Maybe you should go." And maybe she should've, at that, but 'maybe' meant it wasn't an order. Or even what he thought. She would've left if he'd said it stronger. If he hadn't lent her a book, if he hadn't laughed with her, if he hadn't brought her on board, if he hadn't squeezed her hand when it felt like the world should've ended. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, thinking about Myriah and her mother because it was better than thinking about Zak. This kiss wasn't like a missed cheek-peck. It was -- he cupped her face and made this hurt noise like he couldn't believe she hadn't run out the door, and he leaned against her like it'd been years since he'd touched anyone for more than half a second. His mouth was hot, and he bit her lip like he really did know everything -- or like Helo had been having too many chats with the Old Man, anyway -- and he sucked on her tongue, harsh and hungry. She gave as good as she got, and by the time he pushed her away, she was breathing hard. "You should go," he said, and she shook her head. "No reason to." He pushed her hands away. "That was out of line." Kara clenched one of her hands into a fist. "No one's going to get you for drunk and disorderly, sir." The last word made him wince -- she could see it. "Not that, Lieutenant, no," with such a weight on her title she took a step back. "I'm not about to complain." She reached for his shoulder, but he backed out of reach. "It's all right," she said, and if she'd managed to spit out his first name, maybe he would've unclenched a little. But that wasn't hers, and he wasn't wrong -- gods knew he'd be her superior officer even if someday she made Admiral, which wasn't happening this side of Kobol. "Take the book," he said, and picked it up, offering it to her again. "Go back to your quarters." She let her breath out in a rush. "I'm going to want to talk about it with someone once I've read it." He almost looked at her, but he went back to staring at the floor after a flicker of the eyes. "I'll want it back." "I'm a fast reader," she said, though she wasn't usually. It wouldn't hurt her to skip out on cards and ambrosia to get it done, and the sooner the better. "Better put me on your schedule soon." He said, "Dismissed," like she hadn't said anything. Kara kissed his cheek, quick as she could, and got a little gasp out of him before she took the order and left. "Maybe next week, sir." It took her ten days, but that was with making notes while she read so she could seriously discuss the thing. "What are you studying for, Starbuck?" everybody asked her. After the first three times, she said, "It's a book about strangling people with their own entrails," and they left her alone. It wasn't, at all, and it didn't deserve her quick reading. The family tree and the wandering bubble-diagrams she ended up with made her feel a little better about rushing, but she wanted to reread it sometime. The descriptions of Aquarion in the first thaws made her want to go there, next time she got an extended leave. She had to sneak the book out of her bunk while everyone else was playing cards, drinking, and generally doing everything she probably should've been doing according to everybody but herself. She knocked on the Commander's door and offered him the book when he opened up. "Thank you, sir," she said. He frowned at her and asked, "Don't you have enough work to do?" but he got out of her way and let her in. "I didn't make the duty roster," she said. "Patrol, workout, patrol, sleep, plenty of time to read." The Commander -- who she really had to start thinking of as Adama, or she was going to crack herself up in the middle of sex -- took the book. He was still frowning. "What did you think of it, then?" Kara said, "I didn't like it as much as The Broken Sky, but -- it was beautiful." She shook her head. "I'm no good at talking about this stuff, but --" Adama let the book fall open to where she'd left a few pages of notes. He looked up at her, and the edge in his voice went away. "I wasn't planning on giving you a test." "I didn't think so, but I was reading fast." She smiled. "I didn't want to miss anything, and his books are always so complicated." He nodded and took the papers out. "You can keep these." She caught his wrist instead of taking the papers. "I didn't just want to talk about the book." The look he gave her was pure Commander, whatever else she was trying to think about him. "Lieutenant Thrace --" But he didn't have an order ready. Not ready enough to get past her, "What should I read next? Maybe something shorter -- I want an excuse to see you, but I can't really hide in my bunk for the next month." He said, "Kara," softer and more like maybe she was winning. Kara kissed him, because hell if he was going to get her for assaulting a superior officer. He put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her right back like he'd been waiting for the excuse, never mind how he'd glared at her. It was easy to get her arm around him, and he didn't break the kiss, not this time. She had to after a minute or so because the book was digging into her stomach. "Careful with that," she said, and took it from him to set it down, all respect for the author. Adama laughed and kissed her again. "That's the only thing I've ever seen you be careful of." It wasn't too far from the truth. She started -- carefully -- on the buttons of his shirt. "I'm careful with Vipers." "True," he said, and nibbled her ear in a way that made her hands shake. "But you're not -- reverent." "I -- they're machines." Kara shivered. "Easier to fix than books." "Or regulations," and that was halfway between asking and saying. She laughed. "The only regs that matter are the ones for stopping you from hurting somebody. And --" she licked her lips. "Nobody ever wrote a reg to protect me from myself." Adama touched her cheek. "I'm sure they tried." He ran his thumb over her lower lip, and if that wasn't a request it should've been, because she wasn't going to let him get away with staring at her like she was something special. When she licked the pad of his thumb, he closed his eyes, which was better. "Didn't work," she said. He said, "Mm," which probably meant, "Obviously not," and also "Keep doing that." When she reached for the fastenings on his pants, though, he caught her hand and looked at her. "You're in a hell of a hurry." "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it." She hadn't meant to put it out there quite so bluntly, but it was too late. Adama took a long breath. "If something's worth doing --" Kara groaned. "Frak, don't start." He laughed. "You'd knock me over -- Starbuck," as if that's supposed to make her do anything but want to fight for all the fun she can have. "My rack's over there. Might as well get there." Might as well stop a couple of times, too, for another kiss, for another couple buttons worth of getting naked, and she lost her shirt somewhere along the way. It wasn't that big a cabin. She could find it later. Adama sat down on his rack, moving a little slow, and gave her this look like he couldn't believe she hadn't left yet. Like he couldn't believe he was letting her stay. It felt like he was too far away to touch for a second, and like she couldn't just sit next to him. Which was how and why she ended up on her knees, and he made this protesting noise when she did it, but she just unbuttoned his pants like she hadn't heard him 'til he said, "Kara," and she looked up. He had no damn reason to glare at her -- what kind of crazy man turned down a blowjob? -- and he wasn't. He looked sad. "You first," she said, and grinned. For a second, he closed his eyes, and then he let her get his shorts down. "I could wait," he said, and he sounded a little shaky. Shakier than he ever did over the comm from CIC. "You don't have to," she said, and got her hand around him. Just before she licked him, she added, "sir," and he slammed his hand on his rack. "Damn it, Starbuck -- don't pull that." She could feel him shaking, trying to keep still. Gods knew how long it had been since somebody did this for him. No reason to take her time over it, either. From here, it would've been easy to pretend she was just about anywhere, that it was just about anybody hard and wet in her mouth, but she didn't have to. Didn't want to, because he wanted her there, far as she could tell. He might've been pretending hard enough for both of them, and she'd never ask. Once she got a decent rhythm going, he started petting her hair. Not rude, not pushing -- not that she would've minded that -- but soft, like he was damn glad that she was there. Or that someone was, anyway. Had to be lonely being the Old Man, and that thought made Kara squeeze him. "Gods --" he stroked her hair again, harder, and his breath came faster. "Stop." There couldn't be any good reason why he'd said it, but she wasn't about to ignore him. "What?" she asked, sitting back on her heels. Her lips were wet -- hell, her chin was all covered in her own drool. Real sexy, there. He kept on staring at her like she was the prettiest thing that had ever happened to him. Face that launched a thousand Vipers. Something like that. "Let me catch my breath." Kara raised her eyebrows. "You were doing fine a second ago." He laughed and ran his fingers over her cheek. "If I'm going to break regs, I want it to take longer it took to than decide to break them." Which was a hell of a challenge, right there. "How long did it take?" Adama shook his head. "Don't ask." "Not to disobey an order, but -- what the hell, that's exactly what I want to do." She licked her lips again. "How long?" "About a month, give or take." Kara whistled softly. "I don't think my knees can take that." He smiled, but he looked sad, which just didn't fit with how hard he still was. "A little at a time, maybe." So he wanted her to keep going, and -- to keep her around. Like this. Scariest thing she'd been asked since it was somebody on his knee -- don't think about it, not here, not now. To make the memory shut up, or at least to hide her face in case it showed in her expression, she sucked him again, and he didn't try to stop her. "Gods," he said again, and if she ever heard him swear this much on duty, she'd be damn sure the ship was doomed. Right now, though, she was glad to hear it, and glad that his hands were shaking harder. There was always something damn special about getting a man to fall to pieces, and it was more so when it was somebody as together as Adama. He didn't yell -- when did he ever? -- but he gasped, right before he came. Kara coughed, and dealt with it, and grinned at him by the time he got his eyes open again. "So about that assault charge, sir --" He shook his head and tugged on her shoulder. "This isn't a game." She took the hint this time and sat next to him, though she was pretty sure it'd be better to leave while she was ahead. "Got it." And she bit back the 'sir,' that time, but she was pretty sure he heard it anyway from the way he frowned. "If we're doing this --" he shook his head. As if it was an if. She bit her lower lip, then asked, "Yeah?" "Then it doesn't -- matter. What happens outside this room." She nodded and did her best to keep the laugh out of her voice. "No special treatment." And when she said it, the urge to laugh went away. She'd been there before from the wrong end. His end. "Got it," she said, and if he could read her at all, he had to hear how gods-own-truth serious she was then. It took him another second or so before he looked at her -- hearing her, maybe, or doubting that she meant it -- and then he kissed her. No wince, no 'hit the head first,' just a full-on kiss as sweet as anything. "Good," he said, and it sure as hell was. He patted her thigh. "Stay a while longer." The longer she stayed, the more likely someone was to wonder where the hell she'd gone. But she was talking about literature with the Commander, don't you know, you saw her reading that huge damn book, didn't you? So she unfastened her pants and shimmied out of them quick as you like -- and she'd been planning for something kind of like this, expecting it enough that she only had the one layer on. He laughed and ran his fingers over her stomach. "Am I that predictable?" He wanted her to say 'no,' but she just grinned. "I am." Anything that made Adama laugh with the surprise that got out of him was worth saying, even if it wasn't true. "Maybe." He reached behind her and patted the pillow. "Lie back?" What kind of a Commander didn't give a good solid order in bed? This one, maybe. She did what he wanted anyway, but she promised herself next time he was going to have to push harder. "What's the next maneuver?" "Straight out of the strategy guide," he said, and -- sure, it wasn't surprising when he tucked his hands under her hips and got between her legs -- the man wasn't shy -- but it was good, just the same. Some guys would never have bothered to offer. Most guys weren't the Old Man. Kara shook her head at herself and hooked one leg over his shoulder, trying not to laugh out loud. "Oldest trick in the --" he sure as hell knew what he was doing, and she had to take another breath before she managed, "-- book." He stopped -- and she swore she was going to shut up, because if he stopped a lot she was going to want to scream -- and said, "Not quite, but close enough," and then he shut up too, thank the gods. The slick push and swirl of his tongue had her shaking before she wanted to admit it, before she would've let anybody else know he'd gotten anywhere. But this was supposed to be quick, so she went with it and covered her mouth to keep herself from moaning. Bad enough to urge him on and lift her hips already. He lost it for a second, then got the speed just right and she had to tell him, "Don't stop," but that was all she dared to say. She knew -- part of her -- where she was, but she didn't trust any of it. She kept her own prayers to the gods safely muffled against the palm of her hand and clenched the other into a fist while he kept going, right -- there, and she lost her breath and words completely. The point where she started breathing again and he didn't even seem to notice made her laugh and say, "It's okay, I --" but that just seemed to encourage him. Apparently some things weren't genetic, and that just made her laugh harder and gasp for breath when he got her to come again. "Gods --" and she would've said his name, then, if she could've, but he'd never said what the hell she was supposed to call him. She could've said "Stop," too, but she didn't mean that, and instead she covered her mouth and held on to what was left of her brain until it melted all the way out her ears and she lost count. And track of time. Next time she got a good breath, she said, "Enough," and it was, and at least he believed her enough to stop. All her muscles were shaking, and she was going to have to find something to eat before she had to talk to anybody else. "Enough?" he said, and the bastard sounded almost disappointed. And sticky. She got a good look at him and fell back against the pillow, laughing. "Frak, you're a mess." He ran his fingers over her thigh. "You'd better get a shower before you go." The time factor came back into focus. "How long've I been here?" Adama raised his eyebrows. "Long enough for in-depth -- literary analysis." She was still high enough to giggle like an idiot at that. "That too." She kicked her leg up and got to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "So. About the book." He was close enough to touch her, but he didn't. "Yes?" "I haven't got anything else to read." It was the dumbest line she could remember delivering, but she could practically feel him smile behind her. "Hit the shower. I'll find you something else." Kara was damn quick, but by the time she was dry, dressed, and ready, he had a loose pair of pants on and a book in his hand. She tilted her head to see the title. "Never heard of it." "This one's not as dense." He offered it to her. "You can probably finish it in a week or so, even if you spend some time in the pilots' mess." Kara took the book and the promise and grinned at him -- and at herself, because she was kind of hoping they'd end up talking about the books, sooner or later. "See you in a week, then?" Adama smiled. "Something like that. Get some rest." She tossed him a lazy salute and backed toward the door. "Don't worry about that, sir." He caught her by the arm just before she opened the hatch. "Careful," he said, and it was the only order he'd given her all night. "Always." She twisted her hand free and headed back to her rack with the book, and with as much of the stupid grin hidden as she could manage. It wasn't all hearts and flowers, gods knew, and if anybody caught them, they'd probably get sent into twelve kinds of therapy. Kara did her best not to think about why, and how much whoever would say she was losing her mind was maybe right. The thing she held onto was that it wasn't about Zak for her, and she couldn't even start to figure how it would be for him. It was about -- the Old Man. And she managed really well to not call him much of anything except sometimes 'sir' and when she really wanted to make him laugh, 'boss.' It was about books, too, and politics when the elections swung around again, and everything she'd ever loved that she didn't tell just everybody -- least of all every boy -- about. When he told her he was retiring, that Galactica was being decommissioned, he was the one who cried. Then. She saved it for later, when it wouldn't hurt him. The only bright spot in that frakking mess was that Lee was coming aboard, and maybe they could have a drink before everything ended.
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