You know the drill: I don't own the principles or the concept behind them. This is being written for fun and not profit. Don't bother suing; my baby daughter has dibs on my paycheck from now until the Cylons return. This is the seventh such portrait I've made; its strictly sexy fun, so don't complain if you're offended by innuendo and dirty talk. Please read and review; don't be shy. The pilots certainly aren't.


Portraits of a Marriage – Abstract Sketch

Lee Adama's private vow to let things lie lasted a total of twenty hours after they'd parted company on Tauron, both of them feeling as if their insides were as thoroughly scrambled as their nominally personal lives now were. This rather foolish resolution had come about because he'd made the decidedly foolish mistake of asking if she wanted to contest or terminate the marriage. Oh, he felt a sizable section of his soul shrivel in the asking, but there it was. He certainly wasn't going to force this woman he loved into some sham 'marriage' if her heart wasn't in it.

"The woman he loved." Shouldn't that have been a little harder to accept?

The look she gave him at the spaceport could have frozen a newborn sun dead. "Try it," she stated calmly and clearly. "And I'll cut your cock off." The look in her eyes clearly communicated she would do exactly that, right there in the lobby of a high-traffic port of call.

"Um, okay," was the best he could manage.

"You're mine, Adama. You pledged yourself to me in the sight of the gods. You try breaking that, I'll break you."

Lee fought for mental traction, wanting to get some positive sign from her in those last seconds they had. "So…you want this?"

The sadistic bitch stepped into his personal space and 'accidentally' brushed the back of her hand across his groin, even as her other hand gripped his hair and brought their lips back together. "I want it, every moment I can have it," she whispered into his mouth. She pulled back and smirked. "I'll take the rest of you, too."

Lee was unable to formulate a response as she sauntered off. It was just as well he wasn't fully there, otherwise he might've wondered at why she quickly broke into a full sprint for the gate leading to her flight after just a dozen paces. Given her shuttle didn't depart for another hour, her haste would have seemed unusual.

As it was Lee couldn't manage more than to march himself to his own departure gate and take his shuttle back up to the Eos, his eyes downcast the entire time and his thoughts looping around a singular question.

What the frak? What the frak? What the frak? What the frak?!?

He had not the slightest clue what it was in reference to.


Returning to his regular duties provided some distraction enough from his brooding, though not enough to cut through it entirely. His CAG kept shooting exasperated looks his way during the first briefing of their patrol cruise out past Canceron, and made a point of pairing him with the worst eject of a rook for their first CAP. Doman Shuli, call sign "Proctor", wasn't so much incompetent as unseasoned, prone to over-compensating on his RCS and shortening his turns. Rook mistakes one and all, easily corrected but requiring vigilance on the part of the senior pilot to make sure they didn't compound into something worse.

Lee appreciated the chore more than he could say. Somewhere along the line he'd gone from asking himself What the frak?!? to asking himself How many frakking forms do I need to fill out now? Six…seven actually…came immediately to mind…all of which would require documentation he didn't have and which would entail at least four additional forms to requisition…

The fact the first bit of paperwork that came to mind was the FM-501A – Declaration of Next-of-Kin – very nearly had Lee flying his Viper into the side of the battlestar. He then mis-fired his own RCS a few seconds later at the realization that would mean procuring a Federal Certificate of Marriage…which would make this…this madness absolutely binding and legal in all twelve colonies…

Lee was feeling positively green by the time their CAP was done, his analytic mind having built an elaborate cats-cradle of forms, paperwork, questions, answers, fees, penalties, modified tax brackets, and fussy personal details he needed to attend to in the few off-hours ahead of him. It hounded him through the rest of his duty shift, right up to the closing briefing of the day with the CAG. Frak! was all he could think during that time.

Frak frak frak frak frak!

How was he supposed to get all that done out there on a frakking battlestar? For all he knew, Kara had come to her senses and was drafting up divorce papers while he was riding herd over his eject of a wingman. He had to make this all legal and right and above board before she ran off and found someone who could treat her right and proper and…

"Apollo," his CAG called to him, causing Lee to half-jump out of his chair. "You with us?"

"Yes, Sir." It was such a blatant and obvious lie no-one dared disbelieve him. Or they wouldn't have, if his damn mouth hadn't kept running. "I was…just thinking…"

"Yes?"

"Well," Lee struggled, shuffling his mental triad cards and ultimately coming up with what he hoped was a winning hand. "Given we're already on patrol here, maybe a few exercises would be in order." Going by the thoughtful look the CAG was giving him, he'd come up with at least a four-on-a-run.


It turned out to be Full Colors, actually, when the CO decided his idea for full combat exercises was the way to keep the squadrons in shape. The 'jackpot' however was that Lee was stuck coming up with both the plans and the pairings for them, which meant his down-time went from minimal to completely nonexistent. Under normal circumstances, Lee might have even thanked them for giving him the assignment.

As it was, he was sorely tempted to throw his wings at them and hijack a Raptor to Caprica, the paranoid certainty Kara was going to end this…whatever this actually was…at any second having taken hold. Even the absolute conviction with which she'd threatened him at the spaceport wasn't enough to dampen this fear. Ideally he'd thank her too for having the courage to undo his mistake when he himself was too cowardly to do so. Except if she were to actually do so Lee was sure he'd be responsible for the bloodiest murder-suicide in colonial history.

Gods, when had he become such a needy shit? It wasn't like he really knew anything about her to begin with beyond how she was a damn fine pilot. Well, that and that she could turn any discussion into a sexual innuendo. And that she was a devout deist. And she could even speak a few lines of Classic Virgonese, quoting Kataris in his native tongue.

And she gave great head.

And she would roll her eyes 110 degrees counterclockwise when annoyed, and a full 180 when simply amused.

And that there was a sensitive spot on her lower back, right above her tail bone, which if kissed or licked with just enough pressure would send her exploding in orgasm.

In the hour he sat in the rec room and stewed, the list of things he knew about Kara Thrace was lengthened in ways he'd normally guard against, primarily because his traitorous body insisted on remembering – and responding to – mainly to the physical aspects of her. This mental list wasn't the only thing that had 'lengthened' dangerously during this time and it very nearly had Lee throwing his notebook and databinders across the room. Frustration wasn't something he handled well, especially given he couldn't handle it in as he normally would have at that moment. There were enough "Arrow of Apollo" jokes circulating as it was.

The traditional avenues of relief temporarily closed to him, Lee recognized there was but one way he might deal with this issue. He might not be able to confront Kara directly, not with several hundred million metras of vacuum between them, but there was nothing stopping him from just calling her and telling her exactly what was on his mind. If she laughed at him…well, it would just confirm what a joke this all was and he'd have to learn to live with it. It was only when he'd reached the wall-phone that he realized he didn't know her home number. Ship-to-shore calls tended to be monitored, and his calling the Delphi local exchange asking for a phone number was sure to raise a question or two.

This didn't deter him in the slightest, the same need that drove him half-insane on Tauron burning through any and all possible objections. He'd just have to brazen it out and come up with some convincing little lie to cover this. Lee paused long enough to pat his pockets for a bit of scrap paper with which to take down the digits, ultimately finding a single, carefully folded slip of paper in his jacket's external pocket. He didn't immediately recall putting it there and began unfolding it as he cradled the receiver to his ear. "Comms board," a diffused voice spoke into his ear. Lee was about to speak when he finished opening the paper, mouth dropping open at the words that greeted him:

My home number:

3484/7002/4519

Call me anytime.

--- Your Wife (!) Kara

Lee could only stare at the carefully formed words for several long minutes, not entirely unaware a couple of the pilots also sitting there were casting worried looks at him. It slowly hit him that any hope he'd had of keeping this on the down-low was rapidly fading, unless he started taking action fast to cover it. He picked up the receiver again and requested a ship-to-shore line.

"Call route?" was asked, and Lee carefully enunciated the 12 digits, requesting they be repeated back to him. There were no errors and the call went through. Lee's mind raced along with the carrier signal, which connected almost immediately and he suffered through a dull ache of a dial-tone, trying to come up with something to say if…when…the other end picked up.

"'Lo?" a familiar voice answered after an extra moment, the sounds of chewing amplified over the receiver. Lee found himself struck dumb, even as a familiar stiffness hit his lower regions. "Hell-loo?" was called again, a lifetime of annoyance and physical danger packed in those two syllables.

"Hey," Lee smiled, not caring how inane it sounded.

There was a beat of silence across the line. "L...Lee?"

"Yeah. I, uh, I found your note."

"You…it's really you?"

"Um, yeah." An unhappy thought hit him. "Are you…is this a bad time?"

"Huh? What? No. No! No, no, no. It's… it's fine. I just…" There was the sound of movement and something being knocked over. A sincere whisper of "Frak!" was heard. "You, um, you still there?"

"Last I looked," Lee smiled. "You okay?"

"Well, I was eating dinner…"

"I can call back."

"No! No, no. Please. I don't…I'd like to…um…" She noisily cleared her throat. "Sorry about…um…" Her voice drifted off after that, leaving them both metaphorically adrift.

Lee did his best to fill the resulting silence. "Um, Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"I…I was thinking about…this…"

"Yeah?" Was it his imagination or did she sound…nervous?

"I…um…we, uh, need to…to fill out a lot of paperwork if this…if we're going to make this…official." He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for a laugh. Or a screech. Or something.

What he wasn't prepared for was her very thoughtful answer of "Um, I already started that."

"You what?"

"Look, Adama, I told you I take our vows seriously. If you don't want this…well, I hope you've got a frakking good lawyer."

"No, I…I…" Lee found himself stumbling for words. "You're really okay with…well, with me and…this?"

There was another short chasm of silence between them. "I want to try it, Adama. An' not just because you're such a good lay."

"I'm not sure how I should take that."

"I'm…I can't believe I just said that."

"Somehow I can." Lee sighed and decided to take a different track. "So…what're you wearing?"

"Huh? Oh. My dog tags."

"And?" Lee prompted after another beat.

"And what?"

"And what else."

"That's it."

Lee could only wince at the image that superimposed itself over his consciousness. He immediately turned from the rest of the room and faced the wall, so no-one would notice the enormous bulge that appeared just under his beltline. "That's…all?"

A low chuckle, one that embodied every definition and vision of sex itself, was his only answer. "Gods, Kara," Lee could only hiss. "I'm standing in the frakking rec room here!"

Another throaty chuckle followed. "So?" If it were possible, his erection felt like it hardened to the consistency of titanium.

"You are so lucky I'm out here, and not in that room with you right now." Lee said this with remarkable calm and composure, even if his face was a masque of barely-leashed fury.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because if I was," Lee managed to ground out through clenched teeth. "I'd make that night in the elevator look…tame."

He could almost hear the blood drain from her face, and likely start pooling in her most intimate areas in the process. "Lee…"

"I can't get you out of my damn mind, Thrace," he continued, all but hissing into the receiver. "I damn near crashed my Viper three times today because I'm thinking about you and us and everything we have to do to make this…and now you've got me imitating a damned tripod…"

"I lied," she abruptly declared, stopping his tirade cold. The rest of him followed suit as fury was replaced with purest anxiety.

"What?" He couldn't even summon the energy to brace against the coming rejection or 'I'm having second thoughts' or…

"I'm wearing my running gear and an old hoodie." It took Lee a few seconds to catch up.

"What's that got to do with…oh."

"Um, I really did start on the, uh, the paperwork. The Marriage Certificate is gonna take another couple days, but I've also got a pile of forms…you know, tax forms and insurance and all that shit." She audibly swallowed. "I'm…I'm sorry…about…y'know…"

"Turning me into a human tripod?" he supplied with a smirk, conscious he was still doing a fair imitation of it.

"Yeah. I mean, I…um…hold…hold on a second, 'kay?" There was the sound of a zipper being pulled and fabric sliding over skin. "Sorry. Getting hot in here."

"Uh-huh," Lee sighed, not fighting the image this time. He had a big enough headache as it was, and just allowing himself to envision his wife in nothing but half a track suit didn't make it quite as painful this time around. "You're really committed to this?"

"I am. Don't ask me why, okay? Gods know you never…" He knew where she was going, having already been there himself. The words came easy with that realization.

"I did, Kara." He sighed. "I always saw you. You just had a way of…slipping under my DRADIS, blindsiding me."

"Really?"

He could only wince at her skepticism, knowing it was justified. "Every time, Kara."

"Even when I was…questioning you in those tactics seminars?"

"Especially in those seminars," Lee had to chuckle. "You just have a way of…catching me off-guard. I couldn't think what to say or how to act around you." He sighed. "Pathetic, huh?"

"Um…no. Its…wow."

"Yeah, 'wow'." Lee took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I…I'm supposed to be preparing some exercises for my pilots."

"Oh, right. Shit. Right. You're aboard ship. Um, when will you be back on Caprica?"

"We're on patrol another ten weeks. We should put in around Equinox."

"Come to my place when you can get here, okay?"

"Okay," he heard himself agree readily. "I'll draft a letter giving you authority on this until we can see an attorney."

"Fine. Um, will you…will you call me again?"

"As soon as I can," Lee promised, mentally calculating what this one call was going to likely cost him. Ah, frak it. It wasn't like his savings weren't huge enough as it was. This emboldened him enough to add "One thing."

"Yeah?"

"Wear just the dog tags."

"Whu…um, now?"

"Now." The silence that resulted left him wondering if he hadn't overstepped himself. Then came the sound of clothes sliding off a body that should have been cast and immortalized in marble, of it being dropped to the floor, making his throat tighten and his head – the one on his shoulders – to go light.

"Can I…do…anything else tonight?" his wife asked him in that same low voice that would have launched a thousand ships in ancient times.

"Only if you're thinking of me when you do it."

"Ditto. Love you, husband."

"Love you, wife." He replaced the receiver on the wall, slowly settling it back onto its cradle and taking several deep breaths. His body was slow in following his mental command of 'down boy!' and only the fact he was now alone in the room allowed him to stop facing the wall. So much for clearing his head…heads. Frak, that woman was going to kill him, even without being anywhere near him.

Worse, he still needed to develop those exercises and all he could think about was her. What the frak was it about that…that woman? He wondered if she caressed a joystick the same way she had him…was it just two days ago?

Somehow it wasn't hard to mentally transition from her riding him to riding a Viper. Heck, that immediately led to his recalling watching tapes of her training runs during War College. Yeah, she flew like she frakked, and gods help whoever he might hear - pilot or otherwise - who might voice similar thoughts. It was poetry the way she handled her bird, dipping and weaving through the standard formation. It was…

Pure inspiration.

He immediately sat down and was flipping through his binders and consulted various charts and diagrams, his right hand scribbling notes without any visual checks. Quick as his hands were, his mind was quicker still, envisioning a scenario that was so beyond the pale of SOP as to be considered...insane.


Five weeks later, tapes of the "Buccaneer 01" exercise undertaken by the Starkiller, Luna, and Titan squadrons off the battlestar Eos were circulated amongst the faculty of Fleet Academy and senior staff of the War College. They were immediately made required viewing at the former, and integrated into the curriculum of the latter.

When the officer credited with the scenario - considered amongst the most challenging at the time - was asked how he'd dreamed up something so intricate and executed it to near perfection, Captain Lee Adama had a simple, modest answer:

"A goddess inspired me."


Needless to say, the goddess in question had a few thoughts of her own to add, but that's another story entirely.

Fin.