The Quick Left, The Slow Right
The first time is in the rec room, but it starts in the ready room. Specifically, during a briefing.
He's running over the list of regs, something he does every few weeks, for form's sake.
He's a third of the way through when he notices Kara's not listening, spinning a pencil between her fingers, drawing attention to herself. He pauses for a second, raises an eyebrow at her.
She laughs, muffled and short, but it sends a chain reaction down her row, and that's when Lee knows he's lost the room.
He covers it as best he can, shrugging and moving on to the CAP schedule easily, but the distraction niggles at him for the rest of the briefing.
When it's over--ten minutes earlier than he had planned--he catches Kara by the shoulder before she saunters out with Racetrack.
"Can I talk to you, Lieutenant?"
At the title, Kara shoots a look at Racetrack, then shrugs and waves her on. Waits until it's just the two of them in the room.
"Captain?" she asks, and the word rolls with irony.
Lee clenches his jaw. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract the others during briefings."
She stares at him for a second. "You're kidding me." And she turns, walks away.
Lee gapes. "We're not--" He follows her into the rec room, typically empty for the afternoon. "We're not done."
"Yes," she bites out, "we are." She grabs the coffee, sniffs at the contents.
"Lieutenant." He tries again, takes the carafe from her hands and sets it down on the counter. "Your behavior is unacceptable."
She whirls to face him. "Because I didn't take notes during your oh-so-exciting lecture?" She folds her arms. "Forgive me if I don't apologize."
Lee takes a step forward, makes her look him in the eye. "You think this is a game?"
"No, sir, I don't," she replies, lifting her chin. "I also don't see the point of reading the rules out loud, since we all know them anyway."
"It sets a routine," he says. "Gives us something to fall back on--"
She laughs again, doesn't bother to hide it. "That's funny, Lee, it really is."
He doesn't flinch at the scorn in her eyes, lets it kindle in him instead. "What?"
Instead of replying, she stares at him, the corners of her mouth deepening.
"What?" he repeats, gritting his teeth.
At that, her hand shoots forward, grabs his collar, and then her mouth is on his, hot and insistent.
Then it's over, and she's stepping backwards, a smirk on her face.
Lee feels the blood rushing under his skin, feels pissed off, turned on, and she's saluting him and walking away.
He doesn't even stop to think, he just reaches out, grabs her by the elbow. Catches her wrist as she swings around, pulls her against him and slants his lips against hers. She jerks against him, and he feels a thrum of satisfaction. Angles his head and draws her bottom lip between his teeth, releases her when she whimpers.
She stumbles back against a table, and he likes the look in her eyes. Angry, aroused, antagonized. She looks the way he feels right now, so he isn't surprised when she lunges forward, clutches his jacket in her fists and yanks his head down to hers again.
She grinds her hips against his, fumbles with his belt as he tugs at the fastenings of her trousers, pauses to slide his hands under her tanks, cup her breasts roughly.
A small part of his mind reminds him the door to the rec room is open, but he doesn't care that much, especially not when Kara's got his cock in her hand, and he's yanking her pants past her knees, down to her ankles.
She leans against the table, clutches at his hips as he positions himself, and he plunges into her with one steady push.
She hisses, a sharp intake of breath. Arches, fastens her teeth in the collar of his jacket, moans.
Lee thinks he won't even last two minutes, thrusts shallow, quick, uneven. Buries his nose in her hair and breathes the scent of her skin and sweat as he comes.
He presses his chin against her shoulder, begins to withdraw, but she digs her nails into his ass, slides a hand down to where they're still joined. She pants harshly, squeezes her eyes shut, and he feels her shudder against him, around him, and then he pulls away.
He's dressed again in half a minute, watches her as she pulls her uniform back on, brushes her hair down with her fingers.
"Kara," he begins, then stops, because he's still angry at her, even now.
Her mouth twists, and she rolls her eyes. "We done here?"
He blinks. "Yeah. We're done."
And then she's gone.
The second time is in the barracks, but it starts in the corridor.
She's talking to a couple of the new pilots, gesturing emphatically about something, when he spots her.
He strides up easily, accepts her salute, and theirs, with a nod. "Lieutenant," he says, "I need your report on the newest pilots."
"Captain." She nods, her lips pursed in a thin line.
The comms crackle, and Dee's voice drifts in the corridor, calling the CAG to CIC.
Lee nods to the nuggets, turns away. "End of the day," he says over his shoulder, and he doesn't bother to wait for her reply.
After a long discussion with tactical, checking inventory on the deck, and reviewing the patrol assignments, Lee heads back to officers' quarters to catch some sleep. Barring an emergency, he shouldn't be needed for a few hours, so he strips down to shorts and a single tank, slides into his bunk with a sigh.
He wakes when the hatch clangs shut and locked, and finds Kara standing in front of his bunk, her hands on her hips.
"What the hell was that?"
Lee rises on his elbows, rubs his eyes.
"Do not," she says, "ever," and she prods his chest with her index finger, "treat me like that in front of the nuggets."
"You mean give you an order?" Lee yawns. "I'm your superior officer, Kara. They know that, at least."
She flattens her hand against his chest, shoves him down to the mattress again. "And I am their instructor." Leans in close. "Which doesn't mean a frakking thing to them if you treat me like a kid."
Lee smiles, feels the pressure of her hand increase. "How does it feel?"
She frowns. "What?"
"To worry about people respecting you."
He watches her brows lower, her lips part as she bares her teeth, but he doesn't give her the opportunity to insult him. Instead, he snakes a hand around her neck, drags her down into a kiss.
She reacts immediately, opens her mouth to his, drags her nails over his shoulders and down his arms, leaving sharp trails on his skin.
He snags her waistband with his fingers, and she takes the hint, yanks her sweats off, shrugs out of her sweater. He rakes his gaze over her even as she grabs the hem of his tank, pulls it over his head, raises his hips as she pulls his shorts off.
Then she's above him, sinking down slowly, and he gasps when she curves over him, nips his neck with her teeth, hard.
She grinds against him, an obscene, circling writhe that clutters his thoughts, until all he knows is the flex of her body against his, and the shadows against her skin.
She guides his hands to her breasts, and he strokes, squeezes, and she moans, low, breathless. Shivers and bows against him, even as he arches into her, pleasure coiling in his spine sharply, suddenly, and he kisses her blindly, endlessly, until he can see again.
And Kara's breath flutters against his throat, and he's tracing shapes on her back with his fingers, circles and triangles and cubes.
He cranes his neck, tries to look her in the eye, but she averts her face. "Did you finish the report?" he asks, trying for a joke.
She rolls off him, retrieves her clothes from the floor. "Frak you, Lee," she says. Then she grabs a towel from her locker, and he watches her walk out the door.
He thinks he should go after her, but instead, he slides the curtain of his bunk shut, and goes back to sleep.
The third time is after they don't die, but it's close. After a patrol, after the Cylons jump into their space, after he orders Starbuck to head back to the Galactica when her wing is damaged, but instead she stays and covers him until the last of the raiders is destroyed.
Combat landings before the fleet jumps, and he's out of his Viper in a minute, but not before she is. He stalks after her, follows her into the head.
"I gave you an order," he clips out, and his voice echoes against the tile.
"Can we not," and then she stops. Runs her hands through her hair. "Could we just skip the foreplay?"
She looks at him, and he almost steps back at what he sees. Frustration, and something else.
Something in his chest thumps, constricts. "Kara?"
She opens a locker, begins to strip, toss her clothes in. "You could have died, Lee." Clad only in a bra and panties, she wraps her arms around herself. Shivers.
His mind clicks, and he recognizes her expression. Fear.
"Hey," he says, and he steps forward, pulls her into his arms. "Don't."
She rubs her cheek against his flight suit. "Don't what?" Her voice is muffled against him.
"I don't know." He tightens an arm around her waist.
"Right," she says, and there's a little bit of laughter in her voice. Then she pulls back, looks at him, and she's serious again. "Why are we doing this?"
He looks at her. At the sweep of her eyelashes, at the line of her cheekbone. The curve of her mouth, the tremor of her lips.
"I don't know," he repeats. Lowers his head, and kisses her, softly. "I'm sorry," he mumbles against her lips.
"Me, too," she replies, and she brushes her lips against his, unzips his flight suit. Sneaks her hands in, under, against his skin.
He smiles, and she smiles back.
And they kiss.