genre: angstcakes. lee/kara.
rating: there is a little bit of sex. and some naughty words.
a/n: this is for sangga, with fond regards.
with thanks, as always, to claira
When he brushes past her in the hallway, she breathes in and smells him, soap and sweat and Lee in one breath, and he grins at her as he turns the corner.
This is the first reason.
She climbs out of her viper and onto the platform, and he starts yelling at her before she hits the hangar deck.
"Of all the stupid things you've ever done," he yells, "this takes the cake, Kara."
She's done a lot of stupid things, and he knows them all.
This is the second reason.
When she hits him, all she hears is, "you're such a frak up, Kara," and all she sees is the sneer on his face. She doesn't need to see his fist to know it's coming, and the impact doesn't hurt as much as the knowledge that she wouldn't mind pushing her best friend out an airlock.
He doesn't take her shit. This is probably the third reason.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and nervously glances at her cards again.
"Your turn, Starbuck," Crashdown says with a grin. This is the second time he's said it, and it's obvious what he's thinking. He's thinking, Starbuck's nervous. He's thinking, I might beat her.
Crashdown's wrong, and when Kara cautiously raises half a chocolate bar, Lee's the only person at the table who folds.
This is the fourth reason.
As she sits back in her viper, ready to lead the CAP, Lee's face appears over the side.
"I want you to keep an eye on Sampson," he says conversationally. "I think he's having trouble keeping pace with his wingman." Kara nods and reaches for the collar in his hand. He grins and clips it around her neck. His fingers brush below her hairline, and the touch sends a shiver down her spin.
There's no such thing as a casual touch.
This is the fifth reason.
His fingers flutter down her body, tracing her curves and her bones and she wills herself to stay still. She tries to regulate her breathing even as she wills him to touch her harder, touch her in more places. He strokes the inside of her thigh and brushes softly, slowly higher, and he kisses the curve of her neck.
"Lee," she breathes, fists clenching as she tries not to reach for him.
He laughs. "Come on Kara," he says as his hands skim across her skin, away from her breasts, away from her.
She growls as she realises his intention to draw his hands away, and pushes him off her. She pushes herself up, and pushes him down before straddling him.
He nips at the flesh of her arm as she lowers herself onto him, and he moans long and loud.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" She grins at him, and he starts moving beneath her, running his hands over her skin and down between them until she's moaning too. It doesn't matter that it's loud, because the pilot's quarters are empty. It is not a coincidence they are both scheduled off.
Numbers six through eight.
In CIC, he leans on the edge of the table. She watches his hands tense as he speaks. "They need to move past the asteroid," he says, and Tigh turns to look at him. Both men are frustrated, and she can tell by the set of Lee's shoulders that he's about to punch something.
"Lee," she says quietly, and rests the tips of her fingers on his wrist. She'd rather he punch her than Tigh, and isn't that a first. "We should head down to the hangar deck."
"I was thinking that," he mumbles, and turns his head towards her and gives a tiny smile.
Her stomach jumps, and she keeps her fingers where they are until he pushes away from the table.
"I'll race you," he says.
She thinks maybe she's lost count.
She doesn't care.