By Shadoe Masters
This is Story 5 of "The Great Burt Baiting Saga." These stories center on the characters from Tremors: The Series, and feature Burt, Tyler, and all the gang from Perfection Valley. There are also original characters of my own creation - just so you're warned ahead of time. But please don't let that scare you off. I hope you enjoy them.
While this story is a romance, the people involved are not the most cooperative people in the coupling department. The romantic elements take time to unfold.
Feedback: Please let me know what you think of each story. I love feedback, both good and bad, and the more detailed the better.
Disclaimer: "Tremors" is not owned by me or my affiliates, but by Stampede Entertainment, Universal Studios, and their affiliates. No copyright infringement is intended - just some good, clean (well, mostly) fun!
E-mail:
Thanks to my beta readers: LadyNRA & the gang at work
Just Another Day In The Life
Part 1
Perfection, Nevada, 7/2/2003
Burt's alarm sounded at 0500 hours and he woke. The safe room door slid soundlessly aside at his approach and he walked into the main room of his bunker, only to stop dead at the sight of Kylie.
She was perched on the pile of ammo boxes stacked to the front of the stairs. Her knees were spread wide to accommodate his Barrett .50, which lay cradled in her arms, propped against one thigh. His eyes followed her hand as it stroked the barrel gently, up and down, up and down... As he approached, she glanced at him through half-closed lids and a slow, seductive smile curved her lips. She wore camouflage trousers that encased her legs like a second skin, combat boots, and a "Burt Gummer Survival School" t-shirt that was tight enough to highlight her aroused nipples through the fabric.
He went to her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, savoring the feel of her tongue sliding against his. She tasted sweet, as he knew she would. He pressed himself against her, reveling in every curve of her lithe little body against his. One hand caressed her breast. He felt her hands busy at his crotch, then she wrapped her fingers around him and he could feel her stroking him, gently at first, then harder and faster.
He laid her urgently on the floor, her legs wrapping around his hips, as he thrust into her at last. She cried out his name. "Burt! Oh Burt..."
He woke.
"Burt! Burt, wake up! It's Kylie! Are you going to let me in? I'm not that late! Burt!"
Kylie's voice came through the radio on the table next to him.
He sprung out of the bed and hurried to the door, rubbing his face and trying to get other parts of his anatomy under control. He paused at the stairs to take a deep breath and compose himself, then took the stairs two at a time. He opened the door and glared at her. "You're late."
"You were still asleep?" she asked, surprised.
"Fell asleep waiting," he grumbled.
"And don't you wake up grouchy," she commented, pushing past him to come in.
"What's that you've got?" Burt asked suspiciously, closing the door.
"It's a plant, Burt," Kylie replied, stating the obvious. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the room.
"I can see that," Burt said, annoyed. He followed her and stood towering over her on the last step. "What's it for?"
She stopped her survey of the room to look up at him. "I told you I'd bring you a plant." She turned and started looking for a suitable place for it.
Burt pushed past her. "And I told you I don't need a plant," he said. "I don't want a plant.
Kylie hardly paused in her perusal of the bunker's main room. "It'll cheer the place up, Burt," she said absently. "Keep you from being cranky all the time." She smiled at a likely spot and walked across the room to the table where Burt usually ate the few meals he prepared in the bunker. She set the plant on the table and stood back to consider the placement.
Burt stomped after her. "I am not cranky!" he protested.
Kylie turned to him, one eyebrow raised. She gave him the benefit of that look for a moment, then turned back to the plant. She picked it up and considered other options. "Maybe we could hang it from the ceiling..." she mused. Then she smiled up at him. "Fortunately, I am prepared!" She pulled a macramé plant hanger from the backpack she carried over one shoulder.
Burt scowled. "I don't want anything hanging--"
"It's all right, Burt," she said, patting him on the arm. "I didn't make it. Nancy did, so it's probably pretty sturdy." She went back to perusing the beams across the ceiling.
"Kylie--"
"Right there!" Kylie strode to the post in front of his easy chair and held the plant as high as she could toward the ceiling. She nodded in satisfaction, and turned around, surprised to find Burt towering over her less than two feet away. "I need a hook, Burt," she said. "Put it right there." She pointed up to the ceiling beam intersecting with the post and smiled.
Burt crossed his arms. "No."
She put her free hand on her hip. "Don't be that way, Burt."
He just shook his head. "I told you I didn't want a plant."
Kylie just stared impatiently at him, her hand on her hip.
"It will die down here," he pointed out. "There's no sunlight."
Kylie smiled and straightened. Smugly, she pointed to the new light that stretched over his workbench. "Fluorescent," she informed him. "It'll do just fine."
He shook his head. "That won't work."
"Of course it will."
"Kylie," he sighed, "this is not a 'plant' kind of room. I don't want plants cluttering up my workroom. And--"
Kylie sighed and set the plant and its hanger on the table next to her. "Okay, where do you keep the hooks? I'll just have to do it myself." She went around to the other side of the workbench and started pawing through the supplies on top and opening the myriad little drawers Burt had set up there. "I know you've got one around here somewhere." She puzzled over a mysteriously-shaped bit of metal, then put it down and glanced at him. "You've sure got everything else."
Burt followed her, frustrated at her refusal to understand the one salient point he was trying to make. "Kylie, I don't want a plant cluttering up my workroom! It will just die." She barely glanced at him as she continued going through his clutter. "I won't water it," he threatened.
She stopped so suddenly he had to backpedal a bit to keep from colliding into her. She put both hands on her hips and glared up at him. "Burt. You know I'll come out here and water it when it needs it. I wouldn't rely on you to worry about a plant. We have met, you know. It's not going to be 'cluttering up your workroom' because it will be up there--" she pointed to the ceiling "--completely out of your way. And plants produce oxygen, so it will be performing a valuable task. Plants are not slackers, you know. Give you some real air to breathe instead of this recycled stuff you've got now. And the fluorescent light will work just fine, trust me."
"But--"
"And," she continued, cutting him off, "if it dies, I will call a town meeting and tell everyone I was wrong and you were right, as always, and I will never argue with you again! Now will you just get the damned hook already!"
He continued glaring down at her a moment more before her full speech registered. He moved his mouth around, considering, then his brows rose skeptically. "Never argue with me again?"
"Not a word," Kylie assured him.
Burt smiled. "That's almost worth having a plant cluttering up the place." He walked over to his other bench, currently serving as his computer desk, dug around in a drawer for a moment, and came back with a screw-in hook. "Where did you want it?" he asked.
She pointed to the far side of the beam, a smug grin on her face. As he affixed the hook to the beam overhead, she settled the pot in the hanger, then spun it around a few times, humming absently to herself.
He finished and she handed him the plant. "You want me to hang it, too?" he asked sarcastically. "I thought you were going to be taking care of it."
She narrowed her eyes. "Funny. Just put it up there."
He did. "How are you going to water it if you can't even reach it?" he wanted to know.
She poked him in the ribs. "You don't have to worry about that."
He half-smiled. "I'll just set up the town meeting. In about a week?"
She shook her head. "There will be no town meeting. That plant's going to be fine."
He snorted.
"Just remember," she said, pointing a finger in his face, "if you do anything to kill it, I'll know. That's cheating, and the deal's off."
His chin went up, affronted. "I would never cheat."
"Uh-huh." She turned, surveying the rest of the room. "Now... I'm thinking... a few throw rugs, maybe a pillow or something... Oh I know! A beanbag chair! In red!"
He sputtered.
She giggled, pushing against his arm. "I'm yanking your chain again, Burt."
He glowered at her, disgusted.
"Don't blame me," she said. "You're just so darn easy to tease."
"I still don't think--"
"Yeah-yeah-yeah. Burt, you should know by now I'm not going to violate your living space." His eyebrows crept up alarmingly, and she grinned. "Trust me, you'll come to like the plant."
"I don't--"
"But what do you think?" Kylie asked enthusiastically. She backed away from him and pirouetted.
He noticed what she was referring to immediately, and dropped the subject of the plant, as Kylie intended. "It looks good on you," he said.
"You mean the gun, don't you?" Kylie asked.
"What else?" he asked, puzzled.
"My brand new outfit and stylish holster?" The puzzled look remained. "Of course I mean the gun," she conceded, shaking her head. It struck her again how different Burt was from other men. Another man would have noticed the way her jeans clung to her hips or the form-fitting top she wore--or rather, what they imagined was under her jeans and top. Burt noticed only the brand new Kimber 1911 .45 he'd helped her pick out the week before. And maybe the way it fit in the holster she wore. Suddenly, she was a person instead of a sex object. A refreshing change, even though she wasn't quite sure how to behave under those circumstances.
"It looks slightly unbalanced, though," he said.
Kylie's disappointment showed. "You said I'd get used to the weight," she said uncertainly.
"I think this will help," Burt said, taking something from the workbench drawer and handing it to her. "I picked up a few things in Bixby this weekend myself."
She took it from him and smiled. "Thank you!" It was a Bushmaster knife, just like the one Burt wore, complete with a sheath that could slide on her holster. She quickly unbuckled the holster and slid it on, then strapped it to her leg. It fit perfectly. "Look!" She said, pirouetting again. "I'm Lara Croft!"
Burt just leaned against the table, an indulgent half-grin on his face.
"How did you get this to fit? All the ones we looked at were too big and hung down to my knees."
"The blade's not quite as long as mine," Burt admitted. "Sam knew someone who fitted women's holsters, so I picked them both up there."
"Oh how sweet," Kylie said, and before he could fend her off, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Burt," she continued, smiling up at him.
She still had her hands on his shoulders, and Burt suddenly realized his hands were on her waist. He cleared his throat and took a step back, setting her away from him. "Did you clean the holster like I showed you? Tried the pull? You don't want the Kimber snagging on anything. It should--"
"I can handle it, Burt," she said, smiling at him. "I had the best teacher in the state."
Burt shrugged and mumbled something self-depreciating.
"At least in the Valley, then," she said.
He glared at her and she giggled.
"Come on! Let's go--you're wasting the whole day!" She grabbed her backpack off the table and ran up the stairs, laughing.
Burt gathered up his own gear and followed, trying to frown, but a grin worked its way to his lips in spite of himself.