x [I think on average, I send every meme twice because I have the memory of a gnat.]
She's not sure how they fall into the habit, but there are times when, after she plays Chopin or Bach or Beethoven or any of the other countless Earth composers she's discovered, she teaches him little things. Simple melodies her father taught her, mostly, but it's something she can share; a small intimacy that she can give to him because she can take it back and pretend it doesn't mean anything when (and it's always when, because she will get back to Galactica and show them where Earth is, no matter what it takes) she has to leave.
Tonight, she's had too much bourbon and is on edge from thinking about home, about how frakked up everything is, Lee and Sam and Dee and the neverending search for home. Suddenly, her brain seems to think it's a fantastic idea to plant herself in his lap, cover his hands with hers, and guide his fingers to the correct keys.
The first brush of his lips against her neck causes her hands to stumble, and she nearly writes it off as an accident.
The second makes them stop completely-- because now she's sure it isn't accidental, and it sends a shock through her system she doesn't expect.
And when he scrapes his teeth against a spot near her pulse point, she laces her fingers between his and holds on tight, a breathy little noise escaping her throat, and for a moment, she is lost.
The sudden memory of Sam's heartbroken tone has her pushing herself back, scrambling to her feet and staring at him, frozen for a moment, but before he can do something like apologize, she places both warm palms against his cheeks and pulls him into a kiss that's all lips and teeth and tongue and heat.
Then her hands are tugging him close and her lips are hungry against his and they've been dancing around this for weeks now in a minuet of accidental touches and awkward moments of staring and laughing off the tension.
There is no 'us', all right? I just wanted a good lay.
Another thought, another moment where she had something she wanted and then destroyed it. She's always been self-destructive and indecisive and why should this be the exception? Her hands move to his chest to shove him back and she takes a few steps away, barely able to hear over the way her heart pounds in her ears.
"I can't frakking do this. I can't."
Because who knows how she'll feel in the morning? She's a dog chasing her tail-- once she catches it, she doesn't know what to do with it, and biting down only hurts her. And the pain of indecision is another pain she deserves. Life is pain.
"I'm married, Bones." The words hang heavy in the dead silence of the room, and she can't look at him, can't take seeing what she's done. The disappointment flushes her cheeks hot with shame, and her self-disgust bubbles up in a bitter laugh. "And I'm already having one affair. I don't need another."
As she leaves, she swears she can hear her mother's voice.
Don't touch anything, Kara. You'll break it.
