Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Disclaimer: Moore’s the man with the master plan.
Summary: The chosen two of Galactica face off.
Kat’s got to hand it to Starbuck: the bitch knows how to steal a moment of glory. Talking about the dead, like Starbuck’s been the one keeping track of names.
But Starbuck’s always the golden girl, the one who everyone forgives because she’s frakking Starbuck, even when they’re watching her drink herself to death. Like Starbuck’s the only one who ever lost a boyfriend back on the colonies. Kat’s pretty damn sure she’s not even the only one today, but whatever.
Top Gun of Galactica. That’s a hell of a title, and even Kat’s fully aware that she’s not ever going to be the one and only top gun on this boat. Not with Starbuck around, not with the toasters breathing down their necks, just…not ever. She’s not the girl wonder — she’s a frak-up like everyone else who’s doing good this week.
Of course, Kat’s also not so hung up on not being the girl wonder any more that she’s trying to drink herself to death.
“Frak me, Starbuck,” Kat says, sliding into a seat across from her rival. “Save some for the rest of us.”
“Get frakked, Kat, okay?” Starbuck growls. “It’s your night. Use it to get laid or something. Stop riding my ass.”
“Why do you got a problem with me being good?” Kat asks. “It’s not like you’re not still Starbuck. It’s not like you don’t kick ass, take names, and whatever the frak it is you think I’m taking from you by being good, too.”
“I don’t think you’re taking anything from me, Kat,” Starbuck says. “You’re a bigmouth who thinks being hot shit matters, like it’s not going to get you killed. You, me, everyone else flying these frakking Vipers, we’re living for now because there’s not going to be tomorrow.”
“So the frak what?” Kat asks, pissed off worse. “So I should crawl into a gods-damn bottle and die just because it doesn’t look good for us pilots? Frak you. Your shit’s going to get us killed before I do, you frakking coward…”
Starbuck’s eyes go steel-hard and she leans forward, all up in Kat’s space again, breathing hard and mean. “I will put your ass in the brig for insubordination,” she threatens.
“Go for it,” Kat snarls. “Remind me who I am. A nugget, a piece of shit you wipe off your frakking shoe, right? Because you gotta be hot stick in this frakking game, right? The great frakking Starbuck, with her dead boyfriend and her pain, because ain’t nobody else got any pain, right, chica?”
“You still have your mom,” Starbuck says.
“You still have your dad, Lee, your best friends, and from what I hear, you hated your blood family, so don’t give me shit because I got my mom and my friends on Freighter 212,” Kat replies. “I’m sorry about your boyfriend. No shit, no lie. But you can’t keep doing this to all of us just because it hurts.”
Kat fully expects Starbuck to clock her, especially after Kat got her licks in in the ready room. But instead Starbuck stands up and looks down at Kat.
“Let’s go,” Starbuck says. “You want to prove yours is bigger than mine, so let’s go work off some steam down on the range.”
“Fine by me,” Kat says as each woman finishes her drink, on her feet and glaring at the other with thinly controlled rage.
Nobody looks pleased to see them at the range. Nobody looks surprised, either, and the gunnery sergeant warns them both that he doesn’t give a shit who they are, if they frak around drunk on his range, he will let them bleed some before sending them up to Cottle.
“Drunk bitches,” he says very loudly. “I don’t need this frakking crap, you hear me?”
“Oh, frak you!” Starbuck yells. “Okay, my little nugget, how do you want to play this?”
“I’m all about speed, baby,” Kat replies, swaggering up into Starbuck’s space again, looking up at Starbuck with a smirk. “Fast and efficient.”
Starbuck’s hot, but she was hotter with her short hair, back when she smiled occasionally, and Kat just rolls her eyes when Starbuck hands her a gun and makes a face.
“All right,” Starbuck says. “How many shots can you get into a toaster’s face in sixty seconds? You and me, three rounds. Winner — frak, winner’s got the big stick, right?”
“Yeah, I can get behind that,” Kat says, stepping back and wondering how Starbuck gets her pulse going as fast as when Kat’s in the cockpit, looking to take down as many toasters before she’s frakking dead, earn herself a resurrection for the day.
They put on their earplugs, load in a cartridge, give each other looks, and then buzz goes the buzzer.
Kat shoots. Bang bang bang bang bang, she will take the punk motherfrakkers down, over and over and over. Die (like her papi), die (like her brother and his kids), die (like everyone she knew at home), die (like the Colonies), die (like Jojo and all the other pilots).
Buzzer. The two of them aren’t looking at each other as they count the shots.
“Six,” Starbuck says.
“Five,” Kat replies.
“Two to go,” Starbuck says.
Everyone dies two more times. Second round, Kat gets seven, and Starbuck gets five. Third round, they both get eight.
“Stuck it to me again, huh, Kat?” is what Starbuck says when they do the math. “You got a hot nut for that big stick, don’t you?”
“Saying I cheated?” Kat replies.
“Saying you’re hungry and I’m not, and I still came in nineteen to your twenty,” Starbuck says. “I’m saying you could be the big stick today, but I could take it back tomorrow. You’re hanging on by your teeth, Kat.”
“So the frak what?” Kat asks again. “Better than giving up like you.”
“Suck my frakking dick, Kat,” Starbuck says, practically throwing the gun onto a counter. “What the frak is your frakking obsession with me?”
“What the frak is your frakking obsession with me?” Kat replies, getting into Starbuck’s space again. “I can’t even frakking figure out if you’re gonna hit me or kiss me, Starbuck. Of course, I hear you like it rough…”
Starbuck hits her, of course, but Kat hits back, and they’re up in each other’s faces, breathing hard and pumping adrenaline like there’s no tomorrow and so when Starbuck goes to smack her again, Kat ducks it and grabs Starbuck by her hair.
Drags her in for a kiss that’s so hard that it’s more like a bite, and Kat doesn’t care. Kat does not give a good gods damn because she wants it hard. Wants Starbuck to see her, see that Kat doesn’t hate her at all, that she wants to be good like Starbuck. Better because Starbuck’s the best.
Their hands are all over each other, nails digging in and teeth still clashing. “I’m frakking drunk, you frakking hear me?” Starbuck growls. “There aren’t any good lays on the ship who don’t get their pussy somewhere else.”
“Whatever the hell you want to believe, sir,” Kat snarls, pulling Starbuck by her hair for another kiss. “I know I’m not good enough for you.”
“I know you’re too frakking good for me,” Starbuck replies, shoving Kat into a wall and squeezing one of her tits hard. The nipple gets tight immediately, and Starbuck catches it between her fingertips.
“I wanna frak you like there’s no tomorrow,” Kat gasps as Starbuck’s teeth graze her neck just underneath the earlobe.
“Good,” Starbuck says, pulling her own top off. “Because there’s not gonna be.”
Kat’s hands settle on Starbuck’s hips, feeling that sweaty, hot skin and wanting more. Kat’s tongue flickers out and wets her lower lip, thinking of the more she wants.
Starbuck sees her looking and laughs a fake laugh, leaning in for another, longer kiss.
“You want me bad, Kat,” she purrs into Kat’s ear. “I got you wet, don’t I?”
“Damn right you do,” Kat replies shamelessly. “Want to get me off or am I supposed to service the superior officer first?”
“Oh, you think I want that smart mouth of yours on my pussy?” Starbuck says, hips pinned against Kat’s.
“I know you do, or you wouldn’t be on me like flies on shit right now,” Kat says. “You want to come and come hard, and you’re thinking I’m a cheap way to get yours.”
“Yeah, well,” and Starbuck’s hands are under Kat’s shirts, her thumbs rubbing circles against Kat’s already aching nipples, “Your mouth could use something to shut it up.”
“Just don’t get too used to it,” Kat replies, the heel of her hand rubbing against the seam of Starbuck’s pants, as Starbuck keeps massaging her tits. “Wouldn’t want you to call out the wrong name again, sir.”
Starbuck looks like she’s about to say something, but Kat hits a sweet spot and Starbuck just moans instead.
This is going to be a glorious moment, whether or not Kat gets off. After all that posturing, after all that brawling, Starbuck’s going to be the one who comes first, losing that tiny bit of control while Kat keeps hers.
Almost makes up for what happened tonight, especially when Starbuck bites on Kat’s neck out of nowhere.
“Frak me,” Starbuck orders, her breathing ragged and wanting. “Frak me hard.”
“My pleasure,” Kat says, sinking to her knees.
She’s the top gun now.
And she is going to show Starbuck just how good she can be, whether Starbuck acknowledges it or not.