Author:
Fandom: BSG
Pairing: Cain/Kara
Setting: Post-"Pegasus"
Rating: R
Prompt: Cain/Kara, officer
Words: 312
Summary: For the Battlestar Galactica Frakkin' Ficlet Battle, Cain's an officer and admiral first.
With Cain being an officer was a calling, her duty was an oath. When she looked into Thrace's eyes, she saw a longing and recognized what she'd seen in her own life. Plus, Thrace was a damn good fighter pilot, better than Cain's current ones.
Cain didn't let people close to her and she knew that she was stealing Adama's pet. Too bad. She was his commanding officer and he should know better than to form attachments during war. Especially to pilots that were more times canon fodder under Cylon raiders than anything else.
Thrace doesn't surprise Cain when she grows up. When she takes the lead and has a permanent imprint on her forehead from frowning.
Cain's proud of her. "I knew I made a good choice when I reassigned you," Cain says as they're standing over star charts in Cain's quarters. Thrace has pointed out where the weakest part in the Cylon defense is.
Thrace grins, just grins like a fool. "We'll blow the frak out of those toasters next time." It's almost sweet the way Thrace doesn't realize that there may not be a next time. But Thrace doesn't carry an admiral's burden.
"I want you to do something for me," Cain says. She moves closer to Thrace. Her hand touches the side of the other woman's face. Thrace nods as Cain leans in and kisses her.
The kiss isn't sweet; it's rough and demanding. They only have now. Now before President Roslin calls her to whine about something else, now before an engine breaks or they have another situation with a prisoner.
Twenty-five years of putting on a uniform means that Cain's hands work deftly as she undresses Thrace and herself. "Oh, gods," Thrace moans as Cain's mouth moves to her neck. Cain hides her own grin against Thrace's skin as she guides them down to her bed.