letterstonorah: (kara & laura huggle cutely)
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Summary: Kara and Laura's last night together before Kara goes on a six-month tour. Warning, this is a bit of awful, terrible fluff. IDEK. Read at your own peril. It's somewhere between R and NC17 I guess? M? I don't know. Whatever. I don't fucking understand ratings. Thank you, [livejournal.com profile] astreamofstars, for the prompt and your endless, delightful meta-ing.

ETA: Okay, Clare! I...it was too fluffy, so I had to angst it up, and now I've torn it all to crusty bits. ALAS. I'd meant to just fix typos and got carried away...?



Kara and Laura are marathoning episodes of Castle of Deceit, tucked under the comforter on Laura’s bed, a bottle of Ambrosia between them. They’ve made a game of it—taking swigs of alcohol at different moments of the show—whenever someone is poisoned, whenever there’s a nipple sighting, every time an advisor thinks they’re saying something quite profound but are actually regurgitating a cliché—and Kara’s favourite, whenever a main character comes onscreen and you have no idea of their name.

Laura nudges Kara with her shoulder, saying, “Drink, damn it. You’re not nearly drunk enough.”

Kara snorts and takes a sip, “I can’t believe that you are telling me that I’m not drunk enough.”

“Well, you’re not! You’re basically sober. Catch up.”

Kara laughs, taking another swig—as she can’t quite recall the name of the character currently onscreen, incidentally her favourite—the king's bastard daughter who lives inside the castle walls—Seramina? Kolya?

Kara settles for dark-haired girl with cute boots.

“It’s not my fault I can hold my liquor, dear,” says Kara, “and that you are the lightest of the lightweights. You are feather-light. Air-light. Honestly, are you even there at all?” Kara reaches her hands over, grabbing Laura’s shoulders, hips, hands, thighs. “Nope, nothing here. Laura, where did you go?” Kara asks.

“That tickles,” Laura says, wiggling wildly, her laughter light and beautiful in Kara’s ears.

“What was that? I can’t hear anything,” says Kara, “on account that no one is there.” She moves over to get on top of Laura, straddling her waist. “Laura? Where did you go?”

Kara looks down, watches Laura trying to get a hold of herself, her cheeks flushed red, her hair wild.

“I’m right here,” she finally manages, settling from her fit of giggles. “Can you see me now?”

Kara stares for a bit, because never, never, will she get over how beautiful Laura is. “Yeah, I see you,” she says. “Pause the television.”

Laura reaches her hand around the mattress, finding the remote, fiddling around with a few buttons until she eventually shuts the whole thing off.

“Gonna miss you so bad,” Kara says. She leans down, mouth open, inviting Laura into a kiss. It’s slow and lazy, intentionally teasing, and Kara can feel Laura’s legs open wider.

Kara breaks the kiss, watches  the soft bends and bows of Laura’s face, her eyes, her button nose, the soft pink of her lips. “You gonna miss me, too?” Kara asks.

“Mmm,” Laura nods.

“What was that?” asks Kara. “Are you fading away again? I didn’t quite catch that.” Then she slips her hand under Laura’s night shirt, darting her fingers up her sides to tickle her.

“Stop,” Laura says, devolving into more laughter, her body trying to wriggle free. It’s no use, as Kara’s got her pinned, her thighs strong and unmoving around Laura’s middle.

“Laura? Why do you keep poofing away like this? Are the gods trying to take you away from me? Don’t they know I won’t let them?” She doesn’t let up her tickle attack, moving her hands up to Laura’s arms.

“Fine, fine,” Laura says, her laughter growing higher pitched. “Mercy, please. I’m here, I’m right here, damn it. And yes,  Kara Thrace, I will miss the hell out of you. I might, if you’re lucky, even pine after you. I will write you the sappiest letters you’ve ever read, and continually think, ‘my life would be so much better if only Kara weren’t away on tour. Frak my life.’ And I’ll worry myself sick about you, and nothing will taste the same. And I will send you silly care packages that you won’t want to open up in front of your bunkmates because you'll be too embarrassed, filled with soap and chocolates and articles I’ll cut out from the newspaper that I know you’d love but also accept you will probably never read. Happy, Kara? Happy?”

Kara laughs, shrugs her shoulders, even though her heart’s beating alarmingly fast. “Is that it? Is that all you got for me?”

“I’ll think of you everyday,” says Laura.

“You have to think of me at least once every two hours, how’s that?” Kara says.

“Oh, I assure you, it will be more often than that.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” says Laura, reaching her hands up and cupping Kara’s cheeks. “And you’ll be good while you’re away?”

“Oh, I’ll be sooooo good,” Kara nods. “Angelic. Saintly. Monks will write about my goodness, and use my story as an example of piousness at Temple.”

“Kara,” says Laura, not in the mood.

Kara angles her head farther down, her cheeks still in Laura’s palms, her lips now brushing Laura’s ear. “You’re the only one that I want, okay?”

Laura’s eyes close.

“Okay?” Kara repeats.

“Yes, Sir,” says Laura, her light tone returning. It looks like she’s about to say more, but Kara’s so not interested, and she presses her lips against Laura’s, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Laura moans, and it’s the best sound in the worlds, full stop—raspy and high-pitched and almost so quiet as not to be heard, but definitely there.  

Kara moves her hand down Laura’s body, dragging it along the skin of her thigh before moving it over her knickers. At that, Laura presses herself up, closing her legs tight over Kara’s hands, sensitive.

Frak, you are already dripping,” Kara says, then pulls Laura’s underwear to the side and slips in her fingers beneath the fabric, inside of Laura, and suddenly nothing’s enough—Kara wants to put her lips, tongue, hands everywhere, feel every bit of Laura’s skin against her own.

Laura reaches her hand up and pulls Kara in for a kiss, her lips too soft to be real, her free hand sliding into Kara’s briefs, tugging her down.

“What do you want?” Kara whispers after breaking the kiss. “I just want to make you feel good.”

Instead of answering, Laura starts kissing Kara’s neck as she rubs her hips up into Kara’s fingers.  

“Move your hand,” says Laura, timid, as if she’s afraid to ask.

“Do you want to rub off against each other?” Kara asks, knowing Laura won’t want to say it. Laura nods. “Take off your shirt,” says Kara, “I want to see all of you.”

As Laura’s removing her tee, her breasts just—frakking Lords of Kobol, Kara doesn’t even know, whatever the thing beyond perfect is—Kara takes off her own shirt, then presses her body down against Laura’s.

Kara always gets off quickly this way, when she’s moving her clit against Laura’s, everything so godsdamn sensitive and wet, even through the fabric of their knickers. It doesn’t take long before she’s trembling on top of Laura, biting into Laura’s shoulder hard, moaning her lover’s name.

Laura doesn’t stop moving though, still frakking herself into Kara, the pleasure of it so intense Kara doesn’t even manage to be afraid when she thinks gods I love this woman so godsdamn frakking much.

Laura’s nails dig sharply into Kara’s back as her climax hits her, her body stiffening, her legs closing tightly over Kara’s hips.

“Don’t want to go,” Kara says, slipping off top, pulling Laura into her.

“It'll go by quickly,” says Laura, her forehead resting against Kara’s.

“Just please make sure your letters are really sappy, okay?” Kara says.

Laura laughs, brushes a strand of Kara’s hair behind her ear. “The sappiest. I promise.”

“And you got to take care of yourself while I’m gone. You’ve got to sleep. And eat. And laugh,” says Kara. She grabs around for the sheet, pulls it over the both of their shoulders.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for many years. I’ll be fine. And Kara?” asks Laura.

“What?”

“Please, please, please call me if you’re not feeling all right. I need to know.”

“I will,” says Kara, getting sleepy, the alcohol finally hitting her. She grabs Laura closer, her arms twisted up uncomfortably, but unwilling to reposition if it means having to let go of Laura.

“And don’t get into too much trouble. A little bit, that’s good, that will keep your emails interesting. But not too much.”

“Whatever,” Kara says, putting her index finger over Laura’s lips. “Let’s sleep. Tired.”

They change around so Kara’s back is in Laura’s chest, their legs intertwined. It doesn’t take long for Kara to start to nod off; and even though she knows Laura probably won’t get much sleep, not on a night like this, it still feels damn good to have her there, pressed against her. Kara has no idea how she's going to get any sleep when she's on tour. 

“You happy I’m going?” Kara asks, and she wasn’t sure she'd been thinking it until she’d said the question aloud.

“No,” says Laura. “Please don’t ask me stupid questions like that.”

“You sure?” Kara asks, her eyes blinking, heavy with exhaustion.

"I'm insulted that you'd even ask."

"Don't be," says Kara, "I guess I'm just not used to people wanting me to stay." And were she not so tired, she'd never say anything like that to Laura.

"Well, I'm not 'people'. I'm Laura, and I am not at all happy that you're going. I also mean it when I say never ask me anything like that again. Do you understand?" 

"You're so bossy," says Kara. She yawns, pulls Laura's arm over her, clutching it tightly to her breasts. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Only every day of my life. And you feel heed to mention it at least  a few times a week," Laura says. Kara can feel her fingers against her back, drawing shapes or letters or who knows what, it's not like Kara can see.

"I love how bossy you are."

Laura laughs, then pinches Kara on the shoulder. "You must be delirious from climax, because my Kara hates how bossy I am."

"Maybe I am a little bit delirious. I always come so hard when we do that. One of the many reasons why this next six months is going to be brutal." Kara brings Laura's hand to her lips then kisses each knuckle. "Laura?"

"Yes?"

Kara bites her lip, then licks it, nervous. "What if, you know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if I didn't go. I could stay here. Blow it off. Who says I have to leave you? No one's got a gun to my head." She turns around, tries to read Laura's face.

"No."

"Just like that? No?" says Kara.She's stuffy and warm all the sudden, and she throws the sheet off and sits up. 

"Yes, just like that," Laura says, obviously annoyed that Kara's even brought it up, her eyes narrowing, her lips pinching up.

"It's not a terrible idea," says Kara. 

"Oh, but it is," Laura says. 'You'll get discharged, and what then?"

"Maybe that's what I want," says Kara, and she shrugs, and she feels ike a petulant child, her lips pouting. She reaches for the bottle of ambrosia left on the table, takes several gulps of it then sets it down. Laura grabs it off the nightstand then sets it on her side of the bed, where Kara can't reach. 

"You can't go AWOL on a whim because the idea happens to suit you at the moment. You have a responsibility, Kara. What will you do here? How will you support yourself? What kind of job prospects will you have with that on your record? If you're no longer interested in being a part of the military, you go ahead and serve out this tour, then muster out honourably." 

And Kara can't much stand to be yelled at, even if Laura isn't actually yelling. The effect is the same, and she feels just as eviscerated. "Fuck honour. I want to be here, on Caprica, in this city, with--" Kara starts, then changes her mind about where she's going with that statement, "with my friends and things."

"Your friends and things?" asks Laura, her voice quiet, but still forceful, a hardness to it that prickles at Kara's rebellious streak, goading her. 

"That's what I said. Like with the people who I give a damn about, and who maybe give a damn about me. Like Lee. Like Karl." And it takes every bit of self-restraint to keep herself from saying not you, Laura, but the implication's still there, and Laura's too smart to miss it.

"I see," says Laura, sitting up, as well, scooping strands of long, brown hair behind her ears, grabbing her glasses off the bedside table and putting them on. Next, she feels around the bed for her t-shirt, tugs it over her head. 

"I'll go if you want," Kara says, grabbing her trousers off the floor, pulling them on over her briefs. She doesn't know where her shirt's gone off to, so she gets up and heads to Laura's dresser, puts on one of hers. 

"Did I say I wanted you to go?" asks Laura. She's doing that thing where she crosses her arms over her chest, and it's supposed to look intimidating, but it just makes her look small and huffy. Neither does it help that her voice shakes a little, and even through the glasses, Kara can see her eyes have gone shiny and wet.

"Frak, don't cry," Kara says, running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm not," says Laura, looking to the side, away so that Kara can't see.

Kara watches Laura steel herself up, watches her not cry. "Fine then," says Kara, resigned. "I'll see you in six months, I guess." She grabs her jacket off the floor and pulls it on, heading out the bedroom.

"Stop, Kara. Right frakking now. You stop."

It's an order, and Kara's good at ignoring those, but she's got enough sense to know she shouldn't disobey this one.

"What?" says Kara, and even if she's not going to leave, she's still going to act pissy about having to stay.

"Are you really going to leave me here alone on your last night here because I think it's a terrible idea for you to ruin your life because it's hard to go through missing someone? I know it's difficult. I'm not sure where you get off thinking that I don't. This is just as hard for me as it is for you," Laura says.

Kara leans back against the wall, stuffing her hands into her pockets. It's a lie, she knows it, but it still sounds good coming from Laura's lips. "I want to be with you so badly," Kara says, "which is frakking ridiculous, and I hate myself for how much it hurts having to leave you like this. I don't like it. I've always just packed up and left. Why do I want to stay so much? It's just--like I said, it's really godsdamn stupid."

"Come back to bed with me," Laura says, tapping her hand on the mattress.

It's another order Kara can't bring herself to ignore. 

"We're going to be fine," says Laura, "All right? Six months is not a long time."

Kara rolls her eyes but sits next to Laura, crawling back into bed, feeling so much better now that she's touching Laura again. "Wars have been won and lost in six months." 

"True," Laura nods, lying back now.

"You think you'll want someone else in that time?" asks Kara, and she wouldn't mind that too much. It would hurt, of course, worse than anything, but she'd get over it if it meant Laura'd have her back at the end of it all.

"I won't," says Laura.

"You could if you wanted. I don't care."

"Oh, shut up, Kara, and just come sleep with me. Please?" 

Kara smiles despite herself, "Bossy." 

She slips her trousers off, cuddles up to Laura. It's warm and perfect and belongs all to her and Kara doesn't want it to go away. Laura grabs her hand, grasping it tightly. "Good night. Remember--the sappiest letters."

"And care packages," says Kara.

"Yes," Laura agrees.

"I want you to rub yourself off with your knickers and then send them to me." 

Kara says it just to see the blush on Laura's face. 

"Doesn't your mail get inspected?" Laura asks.

"Meh," says Kara. 

"Good night," Laura says, flipping off the lamp.

"Mmm," Kara says, already dozing. She falls asleep to the sound of Laura’s breathing, lets herself have the best sleep she’s going to have for the next six months.



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