Title: Alphabet Soup
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Date in Calendar: 31 December 2005
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
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Disclaimer: "Battlestar Galactica," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Ron Moore, David Eick, SciFi, R&D TV, Sky TV, and USA Cable Entertainment LLC. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Battlestar Galactica," SciFi, or any representatives of the actors whose characters are involved.
I started this on Sunday evening 11-6-05. As I was feeling ill that day, only Zipper and Yank were completed. The following day, I returned from my first shift about 10am. I finished Anticipate at a few minutes before 2pm. Much thanks to Lex, for helping me through this great list.
++ Zipper ++
Bored… Bored… Bored…
I know Lee’s hard pressed not to let his eyes wander over to the small, irritating sound. Pulling distractedly at the heavy, industrial zipper on my flightsuit, the buzzing sound is the only thing keeping my sanity intact in this boring little slice of hell. Pull up, zzzzzz, until the teeth stop with a snick at my throat, then back down to where my tank pulls taut between my breasts, zzzzzz.
That’s when I notice that it’s not just Lee that’s distracted by my childish antics. Several of my fellow pilots are getting antsy, throat clearing, squirming in their seats. Various gazes skim over me, curious what I’m doing, what I might be showing off with the teasing hum of the zipper.
The pilots pretty much couldn’t care less about the titillation of my twitchiness, except for Lee, but he’s far, far too easy to tempt. It’s old habit now, the easy out of his attraction that I use like bait. Maybe it’s mean, but I can’t help myself.
It’s the president I’m watching now. She has been sitting quietly nearby, head in her hands, posture tired, glasses dangling where her fingers are cupped around her eyes. We all tuned out by her, hell she’s hardly moved since the Old Man walked out and left us all hanging.
Is she twitching? A minute shudder runs through her slender body… and I’d swear it’s in time to my anxious fiddling.
Now, I’ve got a game to pursue, seeing if I can get a reaction out of the cool woman. Twisting the tab to the side, I rasp the metal together, slow and dragging.
I’ll be damned, she is reacting to the sound. Is it annoying to her? Or maybe, just maybe…
The elegant fingers shift, and I can see the glitter of dark eyes hidden in the shadows, gleaming amidst the long locks of hair. They move minutely, following the restless movements of my right hand.
Now this is a baiting game I can appreciate. This woman holds herself so apart from the rest of us, that this simple, human interest in the tease of my hand has become a very intriguing game.
Heavier and heavier, the weight of her eyes caresses my hand, my thinly covered curves that flash as the zipper slides up, then hisses downward again.
I’ve seen the woman’s glower, felt the weight of her charisma as she talked me into the suicide mission back home, witnessed the force of that powerful personality. Having it focused on me like a laser scope is thrilling. Wonder if I can get more than those eyes completely focused on me?
The black-framed glasses tremble lightly, my attention focused so tightly that I only just catch the tiny movement. So, I linger there, hand still gripping the warmed metal tab, there at chest level. Maybe she’ll follow little movements…
My thumb drifts away from the tab, stroking the soft spot under my jaw, watching the subtle sparkle of those shadowed eyes. It’s like being the prey of some creature, domesticated and well-trained, but with the wild and hungry lurking just beneath.
Like a piece of string dangled for a kitty, I toy with the tab, letting the small sounds of the interlocking teeth wreak what havoc it would.
Those elegant hands lower, revealing the fathomless, dark eyes that watch me so intently. Ego primed, curiosity as fully in control of me as any rules or leash, I let my hand linger, watching the watcher.
The door bangs open, nearly spilling me from my seat. Good Gods… how long have I been playing this game? Dark eyes widen in shock, flicker up to meet mine for the briefest of moments, revealing more than they hide.
++ Yank ++
With a yank, the zipper is once again nestled near that soft spot between the two sides of her strong jaw. Against my will, my eyes are drawn to meet her own, my self-control shattered by her seemingly innocent tease. Even as Adama bustles busily into the room, apologizing for making us all wait, I hold that enigmatic, sandy-colored gaze.
Yanking my eyes away from her magnetic pull, I try to get my brain back on track. The meeting… yes, that’s why I’m here. A plain, boring, undemanding meeting about such mundanes as fuel and food.
But my eyes still follow her small movements in my peripheral vision.
++ X-ray ++
(original challenge was Xmas, but as this is sci-fi, and they have different holidays, I went with the most cliché ‘x’ word I could think of.)
She might not be looking at me, but I can feel her attention like an x-ray. Powerful, invisible, the waves of energy coursing through my body, making my insides glow. It’s an electric sensation, like the very protons in my body are excited by her perusal.
++ Wanton ++
Such a wanton brat she is. Arrogant, smirking, she slouches down in her seat, the zipper tab pressing deeply into her soft throat. This unexpected game has provoked me in completely unexpected ways. This brilliant girl-woman, brash as the flying ace she is, so provocative in her unique way.
Perhaps she needs a taste of her own medicine.
So I use my best asset. Well, the best one I had to flirt with across the room while trapped at a table in a room full of people. The legs would have to wait for a better opportunity to release their potent magic. Instead, I shake out my long mane. The luxurious, overabundant, wanton tresses of mysterious mahogany and redwood, carefully tended as best I was able in these lean times.
Heh. Gotcha back.
++ Votive ++
In a votive prayer, I vow to get my fingers buried into that lustrous tease. It can’t be an accident, the way she moves so that the warm flicker of reds chase though the mysterious darkness of that glorious hair. It just can’t be. The dark eyes that match the mane flash coyly through the scattered strands.
Then the Old Man calls my name and I damn near jump out of my skin.
++ Undulating ++
Yes, I am smug as Kara’s voice is heard undulating crookedly over the full spectrum of her tones. Seems like the brat has been affected after all. Chuckling to myself, I keep my eyes pinned tightly to her, curious what she will do now.
++ Trickle ++
Does she have any idea how sexy this is? An hour ago I would have never made the leap of illogic that brought me here, but now, I’m caught in the maelstrom. Sweat is gathering in the confines of the air and water-proof suit wrapped around my body. Down the groove of spine tickles a single trickle of moisture, threatening to make me dance uncomfortably.
Time to show this mysterious woman just what you’re made of, Starbuck.
++ Startle ++
I try not to startle as the room suddenly erupts into life around me. Has Adama dismissed the soldiers already? There is the proof at how caught up I’ve become in this fascinating mental game with Kara. She’s lost in the crowd, and I find myself glued to my chair in indecision.
Do I go? Pretend all of this was a mental exercise to test my flexibility? Do I stay? Let curiosity find out what Kara intended?
The strong, curvy body wrapped in silvered material seems answer enough.
++ Rind ++
I have no clue what to do now.
Until Kat suddenly pays up on her bet money that she owed from a card game more than a week ago. Better than cash and a million times more valuable, it’s heavy and round in my hand. The sweet, pungent smell of the fruit wafts to my nostrils, making my mouth water.
“Hungry? Thought I might share the spoils.”
The question sounds indolent even to my own ears, even as I know my eyes were blazing with intensity. Laura’s gaze jerks away from my own at the rasping tear of the rind beneath my fingers. Juice mists over my palm as I tear away a great chunk of the orange skin, revealing the plump flesh beneath.
++ Quilt ++
The temptation of that fat piece of ripe fruit is beyond words. It weighs heavily in my hand, wet with juice when Kara sets half in my hand. Months have passed since I’ve had a fresh orange and it explodes across my tongue in a patchwork quilt of tastes and textures. Body-warm, fragrant, sweet and luscious, it takes real control not to moan in appreciation of the gift.
++ Paltry ++
It’s no paltry offer, this taste of fresh fruit, a nearly unheard of luxury in our austere lives.
The look on Laura’s face made giving half the orange up well worth it.
So long on the run, trapped inside the flying cans of the spaceships of the ragged remains of the human species. The taste of home transforms the rigid control this singular woman maintained over herself and the role she fills for the rest of us, gentling her, making her approachable.
++ Opposite ++
Whatever I had expected from her, this was quite the opposite. Walking side by side through the halls of Galactica, there are few words between us. Kind, nervous, and strangely sweet, this side of Kara is entrancing in its vulnerability. Hands still sticky-sweet, my mouth tingling with the healthy tang of citrus, a little lightheaded with the long day and the unexpected treat, I’m feeling wonderful.
++ Narcotic ++
This sudden, strange bond is having a narcotic effect. Laughing happily, carelessly, I wander aimlessly with Laura beside me, just enjoying her company.
It’s quite stunning, really.
All these months of running from and to our collective fates. All the deaths and all the loss, and I can still bond with someone in a healthy way.
++ Marvel ++
It is a marvel to see this ship, this haven, through her eyes. In all the time I have known this girl in a peripheral sense, there was no sense of who she truly is. She has been onboard for years, knows every twist and curve, no matter how much they all look the same to me.
There are hidden niches scattered around, the evidence of the hormonal crew hidden in corners. Kara seems oddly embarrassed by the mess, and I laugh, assuring her that I attended college and the evidence of romance and sex hardly offends me.
++ Loner ++
No matter my myriad of lovers, no matter how many friends I have loved and sometimes lost, I have always been a loner. Early conditioning most likely. Why I open up so easily to her is supremely strange to me.
Only Zak had been able to get at the soft underbelly of my soul, the one I normally guarded with a fierce sarcasm and an attitude that nothing ever gets to me. No matter that it’s often a lie. It keeps me safe.
But here I am, with this powerful woman I didn’t exactly socialize with, showing her the secret little hidey-holes where we soldiers squirrel ourselves away to hide. To regroup, to cry out our pain, to get lost in another’s heat and touch.
Then we come to the crown jewel of these cramped, dank, unused spaces and her breath caught.
++ Knife ++
It’s a shock, this little slice of paradise in the stark and dingy confines of the old Battlestar. The massive curve of transparent hull, as big as some ships, that leaves a body thinking they are in open space, the vacuum held out by the invisible surface. The greatness of the expanse cuts through me like a knife, making me feel tiny, insignificant and humbled.
Endless paths of twinkling stars, the bulk of the scattered ships of our fleet barely visible in the endless darkness.
“Sit,” Kara instructs quietly, tugging at my hand as I blindly obey. “This is a favorite spot, as you can see. We come here to remember why we signed up in the first place.”
++ Jugular ++
Laura misses the spot I’d been aiming her at, and I shift my weight quickly to ensure that she doesn’t end up falling. Somehow, this results in her perched in my lap, the fast beat of her jugular keeping tempo near my cheek. The heat of her blood beneath the soft skin is like a beacon in this cold, empty place. So I nestle my chin down into her shoulder, so our cheeks pressed together and try to see the view through her eyes. It’s a joy to witness her awe of the spectacle of this weird little corner of Galactica, and a pleasure to be a part of her being so unguarded like this.
++ Ink ++
As a teacher, I appreciate the poetry of this scene, the vastness of it, the futility of trying to put it to words. Like ink, the darkness writes its own destiny, punctuated by the stars, the exclamation points of the distant quasars and nebulae.
“It’s beautiful,” finally breathes up from the depths of me, startling me with the sound of it. I’d half expected to be surrounded by the utter silence of space as well. Kara only chuckles empathetically, wrapping both arms around me, suddenly making me realize just how cold I am.
++ Hankering ++
(To have a strong, often restless desire. A yearning for something or to do something.)
“Only my dad understood why I wanted this so bad,” I find myself explaining softly, trying to ignore those fathomless eyes boring into the side of my head, her mouth breathing hot and moist against my cheek. The reality of her close enough to kiss is really sinking in, and my stomach is dancing. “He used to joke about my hankering for the stars, for adventure. He was the only one that understood what I knew I was going to be. The call of the fighter pilot, the speed and thrill and danger that makes me alive.”
++ Girdle ++
Cradled there, in the girdle of pelvis and strong thighs, her arms wound loosely around me, gaze thrown like a fishing lure deep into her past, I see a side of this wild child I had never expected to see. It’s easy to see the spark of her future that Adama leans on so heavily, the woman that she will one day become.
If any of us survived that long.
++ Fatal ++
Losing my heart and then losing the one that held had felt like it would be fatal. Like a gaping wound in my chest, now a raw, tight scar that keeps all others from getting to close. Yet, here I am, sharing my favorite secret spot with this near-stranger, feeling something stir from the ashes of my once-dead heart.
++ Elliptical ++
I am in an elliptical orbit, pulled closer and closer by the gravity of her. If I’m lucky, maybe we would crash together, creating a whole new world together, instead of the separate-ness that make up our lives now.
++ Dank ++
It’s time now to leave this dank, secretive place, and see what the rest of this strange day would bring for the two of us. Squeezing Laura’s slender body close for a moment, I secretly wish that I was wearing something that wouldn’t deaden the sensations the way the flight suit did.
“Come on,” I encourage softly. “We should return to the land of the living.”
A warm grin flusters me, nearly as much as the soft flutter of her lips on my cheek, at the corner of my mouth, where time would etch my smile into my face. “Thank you for this.”
++ Collapse ++
There has been a collapse of so many of my perceptions this day. From the boredom of the meeting, to the unexpected flirting of this attractive young woman I admire so, to this privileged haven of stars, and the warmth of her embrace.
Like disaster victims, buried beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, Kara and I make our way up from the bowels of Galactica. Even the dull ship lights make me squint, and I keep a hold of the heavy flight vest like an leash, an anchor.
++ Bamboozle ++
All I could hope is that she doesn’t think I’m trying to bamboozle her. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not only are my intentions good, but I have really enjoyed her unexpected company. “We should do this again,” I say nonchalantly, cursing the nervous warble in my voice.
Pausing where she is futilely dusting at the layers of grime and dust clinging to her, Laura smiles warmly and my stomach flitters like wild butterflies. “I agree. Despite the mess I am now, I haven’t enjoyed an outing this much since before stepping foot on this ship the first time.”
++ Anticipate ++
It’s a bit of a thrill to have Kara escort me back to my home aboard Colonial One. The walk through the halls, amidst the babble of voices and the smells of all the bodies aboard the various vessels, makes me pull more strongly to her, like trying to hold onto the fading wisps of dream.
The press of our fleet mates reminds me why she stands out among them, why she draws others to her so powerfully.
It’s hard not to anticipate what has led us here, the flirting we traded slyly before she exposed me to the stars and altered my perceptions.
My things, few as they are, seem almost vulgar in their very familiarity. Confused, confounded and scared out of my mind, I feel that I am moving through water, clinging and dragging at me. Fear and anticipation make even the rational parts of my brain turn to white noise.
Then Kara shocks me again, whispering the rare magic of my name, calling my heart to hers like a lighthouse in the fiercest storm. Solid and strong, she is an anchor, grounding me in the haven of her body.
A long time passes while I cling to her, relishing the press of her arms snug around my ribs, the weight of her hands blissful. But my hands are still so cold…
Hissing in surprise at my bold move, her voice in tandem with the falling zipper, I plunge my icy hands into the steamy haven of her body heat, groaning in pleasure of the visceral sensation. It isn’t easy, with her squirming at the cold press of my fingers, and the snug confines of the suit, but I manage to get my arms around her, snuggling in close.
This time, the zipper will not be finding its way up again with a snick.