Work Text:
Lee Adama had had more than a few bad ideas in his lifetime.
But this...this might be the worst one ever, he realized as he looked around his poor kitchen. Every available surface--and even some unavailable ones--were covered in dirty dishes. There was a film of...something glazing his Italian marble countertops, and his previously gleaming stainless steel stovetop now was streaked with flour and sugar.
As was his little brother's girlfriend. When he'd offered to give Kara cooking lessons as a solstice gift to Zak, he hadn't had the forethought to realize the cyclone of chaos that usually accompanied her would demolish his recently renovated kitchen.
Suddenly his vision of the disaster site was obscured, as a dishtowel smacked him in the face. Kara's familiar cackle floated to his ears.
"Gods Lee, the look on your face... We'll clean it up, alright? Don't get your panties in a wad or whatever. Just get over here."
Frowning he yanked the towel off, but eyes bright with amusement met his and it was hard to stay angry when Kara was grinning like that. No, anger wasn't really what he was feeling at all. That's why he'd been standing at a safe distance on the other side of the kitchen.
Shaking his head, he obediently came closer to peer at the bowl of cake batter over her shoulder. Lee went to reach for the wooden spoon she was holding but Kara reached in to the bowl and swiped up some batter with her finger, then held it up to his mouth. "Taste this."
He froze. "That's not very sanitary, Kara."
"What! You know my hands are clean, you practically made me wash 'em three times before we started!" She wiggled her finger at him. "Just taste!"
Lee took a breath, then opened his mouth, and swiped his tongue across the pad of Kara's finger, scooping up the cake batter. He kept his eyes on her face, and watched with some triumph as her pale skin flushed.
Swallowing the sweet batter, he looked away, willing himself to pull it together and peered at the cookbook on the counter. His voice only sounded slightly wavery when he asked, "Did you add the two teaspoons of vanilla?"
"Sure. More or less."
Her words gave him pause, but Lee figured a little extra vanilla --or a little less-- wouldn't hurt the overall taste.
"How about the two teaspoons of baking powder?"
Her response was slower. "Yeah, I think. How much is a teaspoon again?"
Lee looked around for the measuring spoon set that he knew he'd laid out next to the cookbook earlier. They were MIA.
"Kara," he started, suspicion dawning, "how have you been measuring the ingredients?"
"Uh," she blinked, her tongue swiping across her lips. "Mark I Eyeball?"
Lee grimaced. "Baking is a very precise artform, Kara. If you don't measure exactly like the recipe specifies, it's not going to--"
Kara was already smirking.
"What?"
"Same old Lee." She shook her head.
He raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I've known you for what? Three months now? And do you ever do anything that's not in some rule book, Lee?" She stepped closer. "So I added a few extra teaspoons or tablespoons or whatever? Who cares! The food police isn't going to come and confiscate the cake on us," Kara's face was bright with animation as she argued practically nose-to-nose with him. Lee was having trouble catching his breath. Her lips -- full, lush, perfectly shaped lips, he observed, not for the first time -- stretched into a wide smirk, and she arched an eyebrow at him. "My Gods, Lee, don't you ever just want to follow your instincts?"
He did.
And then he was, hands reaching up and curving around Kara's face, as he crashed his mouth into hers. She squeaked, the sound muffled by his lips, and then suddenly her hands were sliding up his back and her mouth was opening under his. Lee kissed her hard, one hand sliding around to cradle the back of her head, as three months of repressed desire poured out between melded lips and twining tongues and bodies pressed together.
They slid down, cooking lessons abandoned, to the dirty flour-smeared floor, shedding clothes and inhibitions with equal alacrity, continuing what had started the first night they met. There was far too much need and hunger to leave any room for guilt, or thoughts of anything other than the push and pull of their bodies together. There were no breaking glasses, no interruptions, just lust and desire fueling them onwards. Lee slid inside her and Kara arced to meet him, strong limbs enfolding him and urging him on wordlessly, until they both shuddered into completion.
Later when they regained their senses, their mutual consciences demanded they confess to Zak. And years afterward, long after their wedding (where Zak had been his brother's best man), and his own to a woman in Kara's squadron whom she'd set him up with (where Lee returned the favor), Zak would still remember those cooking lessons as the worst gift he'd ever gotten.