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14 October 2012 @ 11:43 am
Fic: The Fandom Strikes Back  
Title: The Fandom Strikes Back
Authors: Your resident madwomen.
Summary: “In the course of the afternoon, Zak counted nine Slave Leias.” Dragon*Con, here we come.
Characters/Pairings: Kara/Lee, Zak/Dee, Billy/OFC, Sam/OFC, Bill/Laura.
Rating: Teen, because Kara likes her swear words.
Wordcount: ~5,200
Notes: So, an age ago olga_theodora wrote If Not, Winter. Then miabicicletta wrote The Book of Pythia. Then, somehow, we tangled the two into one ridiculous AU. (Don’t judge.) It is about to get even more ridiculous. Story includes allusions to some real-life events, some of which may or may not have happened at D*C 2011.

Take pity on our alter-egos, for they are subject to our great and threatening madness.

Atlanta, Georgia
Sunday night

“Oh God, what is happening?” Billy clutched at the descending escalator with a dying man’s desperation.

“No, no, ladies, I saw him first,” Tisha groused, rolling her eyes as she attempted to steady her boyfriend. She glanced back. “Is Sam this bad when he’s drunk?”

“Worse,” replied her dear friend Petra, who had the grace not to point out that her companion was, for the moment at least, upright and rubbing her shoulders.

Tisha glared.

Petra shrugged, unrepentant. “Usually.”

“Chin up, Bloom,” Kara called from above them, doing her own part to keep Lee Adama from toppling over. “Could be worse. At least your better half hasn’t booted on Darth Maul.”

Tisha looked down at Dee, who shook her head in disgust. Without warning, Zak suddenly shouted, “GERONIMO!” and bolted across the Marriott.

Dee sighed. “Never again are we letting them come to Dragon*Con.”


Cambridge, Massachusetts
The previous Monday evening

“We’re going.”


“I’m packing your bag.”



“Kara, we’re really not.”

“Lee, we really are.” She thrust another heap of clothes into the suitcase lying open atop their bed and raised an eyebrow. Try to stop me, her expression plainly read.

Lee pinched the bridge of his nose and flopped back into a chair. He squeezed his eyes shut, then blinking quickly to try and dispel the deep sense of weariness and exhaustion he felt. It had been a long summer, to say the least. Between the crushing pressure of his last year of law school, exams, and Kara’s wildly unpredictable freelance scheduling, there had been enough madness to go around. And all this before she decided to take a commission in Boston for the summer. Their current conversation was reminiscent of the one that had followed that particular announcement.

“Art never sleeps,” Kara had said, her mouth warped around the heavy felt marker between her teeth and a cardboard box full of painting supplies at her feet. “Besides, your dad isn’t as young as he used to be. He’s gonna need a couple of extra hands when that new kid shows up.” She had severed a line of packing tape with the flick of a knife she pulled from her boot. Tucking it back into it’s secret hiding place, she wiped her hands on the two tank tops she wore. “Figured I’d put you to work. See how you do. Think of it as a dry run, Adama,” she’d grinned, nudging his shoulder and breezing past him.

And so, weeks later, here they were, still ensconced in the guest room of Number 12 Acacia Street after the chaos (and near disaster) of his newborn sister Chloe’s birth. After a month of late night feedings and being spit up on; after falling madly in love with an impertinent, blue-eyed redhead with a set of lungs that could rival even Kara; after the sticky, staying swelter and the surprise of living back in the States once more, after all of it, Lee felt closer to his family than ever before in his life. The old wounds between he and Zak had long ago healed, and the father who had been absent for so much of his life was only steps down the hall. Lee was finally a part of the family who had eluded him for so long.

And through it all, there had been Kara, who turned down far-flung assignments more and more often these days and smiled when she held his tiny sister in her arms. She’d raked in a small fortune for her latest piece and after an evening out with her friends Tisha Bloom and Petra Thomas, she’d once again gone ahead and Made A Decision without him.

Which, Lee admitted, wasn’t what he was particularly upset about. It was just...

He went after her, stood in the doorway, and put his foot down. “Look, you can dress up for Dragon*Con if you want, but I don’t care if you’ve already gotten the costume: I’m not going as Legolas.”

Kara grinned, a devilish little twinkle in her eye.

Or Robin!”


Cambridge, Massachusetts
The next night

When Petra and Tisha had booked their room, some nine months before the con, the plan had been simple: fangirl weekend galore.

This had turned, somewhat inexplicably, to fangirl plus boyfriend weekend, but as the room had two beds and there was an understood shenanigans policy (which is to say, there would be no shenanigans in the room during said weekend, an agreement Tisha insisted would never hold up in court as the word shenanigans was, indeed, quite vague in what it encompassed), Petra and Tisha were still cheerful about the prospect.

It was not until Kara informed them that they would soon be bunking four to a bed that things looked a tad bleak.

“You could have told her to shove it and find her own room,” Petra said darkly, glaring over her wine glass.

Tisha seemed to find this amusing. “As if you could say no to Kara Thrace in full-steam ahead mode.”

“Someone will die this weekend.” Petra sighed, raising her hands helplessly.

“Okay, Cassandra,” Tisha called, wrenching her suitcase from the hall closet.

“Blood on the walls.”

“You bet. Come on, it’ll be an authentic convention experience,” Tisha continued cajolingly. “Sort of like a sleepover, but with costumes and alcohol and Jedis passed out in bathtubs.”

Petra appeared unconvinced.

“Also, Kara said she’d pay our bar tabs for the weekend,” Tisha offered brightly, tossing a pair of heels, a sparkly headband, and a leotard into her suitcase.

This appeared to both reassure and worry Petra. “That will do very well until we end up in the ER with liver poisoning.”

Tisha threw a pair of socks at her. “Sam must love that sunny attitude of yours.”


Logan Int’l Airport
Thursday Morning

Kara pulled her sunglasses down and kicked her feet up on a chair opposite hers.

Tisha clutched with both hands at a Starbucks cup that, from the way she was bouncing up and down with glee, she quite likely did not need.

Petra enthusiastically thumbed through the Dragon*Con program, humming in vaguely delighted and Laura Roslin-esque way.

Dee drew up the spreadsheet she’d created for the weekends events, adding notes from Petra’s guide.

Billy, Zak, Sam and Lee exchanged looks, all bearing excitement and fear in equal measure.

“Just do me one favor,” Zak said, his affected voice heavy with melodrama. “Make sure my body gets home to mother, if I die.”

Lee rolled his eyes and strode away to find a seat. “No deal. I’m leaving you there to rot.”

“Send this letter to my sister!” Zak called, collapsing dramatically at Dee’s feet. “For her to remember me by!”


Atlanta, Georgia
Thursday afternoon

The flight, at least, was uneventful, and they more or less made it to the Marriott without incident (aside from a few descriptive and specific threats of torture if Dee didn’t get coffee, which Zak handled with an uncommon level of seriousness).

After a long, hot, sweaty hour waiting in line for their passes, the group stumbled wearily back into the cool embrace of the Marriott, and wandered from venue to venue through glittering walkways and massive lobbies.

Tisha took a deep breath. “Enjoy the fresh recycled air while you can, folks.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Well, imagine the logistics,” Lee replied. “Thousands of people, brutal heat and humidity...”

“...laissez faire bathing habits...” Zak theorized.

Billy made a face. “Awesome.”

They made for the elevator and climbed the heights back to their one, very cramped hotel room. Kara launched herself on the bed and reached for a swaddled container in her duffle. Pulling out a bottle of bourbon and another of vodka, she grinned. “Let’s get this weekend started.”

Lee resigned himself to events beyond his control, and accepted a plastic cup brimming with liquor. “And so it begins.”


Friday morning

“So,” Billy swallowed a handful of aspirin. “What’s on schedule for today?” He asked, as though summoning the strength to face the day. Which, after the previous nights bar-hopping and party-crashing, he was sorely lacking.

“Well, there’s the Firefly panel,” Tisha said, launching into the order of events. “Which we have to go to because,” she looked to her female breakfast companions, “Nathan Fillion, amirite?”

Dee sighed dreamily, “Girl, you are so right.”

“If Nathan Fillion ain’t right, I love being wrong,” Kara purred.

Sam took a massive bite of toast. “Should we go? Would you ladies like some special alone time?”

“Rawr, Nathan Fillion,” Tisha said. “Yes sir.”

“Alright, alright,” Billy interrupted. “Settle down.”

“Aww, my little pipette,” Tisha replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t be put off by my TV boyfriends.”

Billy pointed a finger in her face. “Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer ‘my sweet beaker’?” Tisha said, far too innocently. “My wittle bunsen burner?” Billy rolled his eyes.

Kara and Petra exchanged a look of mild horror.

“Nicknames. Gross,” Kara muttered.

Dee swallowed the last of her juice and rose to her feet, leaning imperiously over the table. “Breakfast is over. Con is begun. Do I need to remind you of the rules?”

Zak tossed a napkin down and leaned primly on his folded hands. “Actually, Anastasia, I’ve forgotten one of two of them in the time since your seventy minute lecture on the Principles and Proceedings of Dragon*Con, and since I’ve forgotten my notebook, would you mind giving us all a refresher course?” He blinked his eyelashes sweetly.

Dee’s eyes narrowed. “Respect the rules or pay the price.”

“Right,” Zak scoffed, rising to his feet. “I’ve managed to make it through more than one war zone by my wits, charm, and dashing good looks. I think I can handle a few nights at a sci-fi convention.”

“We’re gonna end up putting those words on his tombstone, aren’t we?” Sam mused.

“Spoilers, love,” Petra sang out, taking his hand.


Atlanta, Georgia
Friday afternoon

“What. Is. This.” Kara eyed the sight before her with evident disdain. “You said there would be a line. You never said it would rival a Soviet era breadline.”

“Welcome to D*C,” Petra replied, settling herself at the end of the line with the air of someone well prepared to wait for hours- which was appropriate, as the panel would not start for another two. “Where lining is an Olympic level sport.” She snapped open the painted parasol she carried and shaded her face from the sun.

“It wraps around the fucking block, Petra.”

Tisha shrugged. “We’ll still get in, somewhere in the back.”

“Let me get this straight,” Kara continued. “We’re going to end up so far in the back of the room that we have to rely on the screens to see the panel, but attending the panel live and standing in this line is still preferable to catching the panel on the D*C telecast because...?”

“Because Mark Sheppard,” Tisha replied simply, as if the answer were self-evident. Petra nodded in agreement.

Kara considered them for a long moment. “Mark Sheppard?”

“He’s the man, Kara.”

A moment passed in which Kara looked ready to bolt for the nearest climate controlled environment. “Dammit,” she said, finally. She took a seat next to them on the pavement and pulled out her bottle of water, which was definitely not filled with water. “I loved him on that show with the robots that looked like people.”


Marriott, Room 447
Saturday morning

“So, Kaylee, two companions, and gender-bent Han Solo walk into a bar...” Sam commented, looking from Petra to Tisha, Dee and Kara.

“Sounds like a grand old time,” Kara answered, pulling her gun on him. “Pew pew pew!”

“Lest anyone forget that Han did, indeed, take that first shot...” Zak said, twirling his replica of the Doctor’s screwdriver between his fingers. “No question of that with Kara, here.”

Kara holstered her gun with the finesse of someone who had performed the action a thousand times over. “Maybe next year I could be a superhero,” she mused. “Something with a cape.”

“NO CAPES!” came the stern admonition of Petra, Tisha, and Zak.

“Remember the sage words of Edna Mode,” Zak continued. “No capes, Thrace. Dragon*Con is filled with hazards for the caped.”

“Escalators,” Petra supplied.

“Small children,” Tisha contributed. “MARTA. Richard Flatch.”

Petra groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Must you remind me, Bloom?”

“Petra got perved on by Flatch last year,” Tisha explained, smothering a laugh. “We passed him in the hall, and she was all, ‘Hey, Mr. Vice Pres,’ and the next thing you know, creepy shoulder touching.”

“I had almost successfully forgotten that incident,” Petra shuddered.

Zak suddenly began laughing from his spot on one of the beds. “Would this be the Richard Flatch in question?” he asked, turning his laptop toward them.

Petra let out a strangled shriek at what she read upon the screen. “BLOOM, HE HAS A CRUISE.”

Tisha and Kara gathered around the screen, cackling wildly as Zak gestured like Vanna White. “Behold, the self-discovery cruise of your dreams,” he said. “Complete with acting workshops!”

“Thomas, you should totally go on that cruise,” Tisha commented with a laugh. “It would be very educational. A voyage of ‘self-discovery,’” she read dramatically.

Petra shook her head adamantly, scuttling backwards across the bed to put the maximum amount of distance between herself and the screen. “I’d sooner kiss a Wookie.”

“I can arrange that!” Tisha and Zak sang out in unison, high-fiving emphatically when they did. “Think we passed one in the lobby on the way here, come to think,” Zak added.

“I would totally go on that cruise,” Kara declared. “Lee, you and me, next summer. Imagine the installation I could get out of that experience. Desperation, fading stardom, a longing for the past. I love that shit.”

“I’d really rather not,” Lee replied dryly.

“Ah well,” Kara sighed unconvincingly, and snagged a bundle from her bag. “Here, catch. Your costume.”

“Kara,” he protested as patiently as possible, “I was serious. I am not prancing around in tights all night.”

“I know,” she replied with an innocent expression. “So I brought an alternate costume for you.”

The other inhabitants of the room exchanged looks that were half amused and half alarmed. Though the contents of the bundle were a mystery to them, Kara attempting to pull off innocence could only mean that she had something up her sleeve.

As Lee disappeared into the bathroom, the others waited attentively, gazes directed toward the closed door. Their attention was rewarded by a muffled strongly worded epithet. Kara appeared beside herself with glee.

“I’m not going!” Lee called from behind the closed door, a note of mild hysteria in his voice.

“Come on.” Zak rapped at the door with a Sonic Screwdriver, looking dapper in his Eleventh Doctor getup.

“Not going!” Lee sang out.

“Lee, I promise, nothing you could possibly be wearing could be even half as strange as some of the outfits I’ve seen here,” Petra reasoned, even as she glanced at Kara warily.

Tisha nodded in agreement. “Ain’t that the truth. It’s like Carnivale on crack up in here.”

“Really?” Lee said skeptically as he opened the door and stepped out into the suite.

Kara grinned broadly as the room erupted in peals of hysterical laughter. “Lookin’ good, Princess Lee-a.”

Lee adjusted his twin hair buns and glared righteously.


There were Romulans and Silurians. Dwarves and manga girls. Autobots and Master Chief.

In the course of one afternoon, Zak counted nine Slave Leias.

They split up, half heading for the “Classic Sci-Fi Villains” panel, and half for the “Inspector Spacetime: Pop Culture Parody” discussion. By the time the sessions had ended, it was well after seven, and, by Petra’s estimation, approaching the hour when the wheels came off the wagon and all plans were thrown out the window in favor of drinks, dares and pranks. Or so most evenings with Tisha and Kara went.

Her roommate was currently breaking the rule against photos in the skybridge by posing with a River Song with fantastically accurate hair when the screen of her phone lit up with a text message.

Petra halted suddenly in the walkway, an action that only an hour earlier would have caused a human traffic jam. “Hold up,” she said, her attention focused on her phone. “We have to get to the Westin. Now.”

Zak attempted to peer over her shoulder. “Sudden interest in elevator surfing?”

“No.” She turned the screen toward them, revealing a small photo and a text reading not blinking, srsly. “Kara’s drinking with a Weeping Angel, and this is a situation deserving of our attention.”

Zak goggled at it. “I feel it is only appropriate to say, in this moment, ‘Run.’”


Cambridge, Massachusetts
Saturday evening

In the dark of the kitchen, the blinking light of his cell phone clued Bill into the missed call from Zak. Pressing a button, he played the voice mail back and was met with an audible cacophony. Zak’s slurred voice came on the line a few seconds later:

“...High Velocity was my downfall. Why did the Romulans give me dovka? That’s what I said. I did! Vod-ka. Whatever. Go take a cruise with Richard Flatch. What? No. Oh! It is! It’s my dad! Hi Daddddd. Hope you’re making more babies with Dear Stepmother. Tell Chloe I said bah bah bah goo blah gah goo. I speak Baby, you know.”

A second voice, this one terse with a Caribbean accent:

“...give me that! Hey Bill. He’s fine. I’ll take it from here.”

Bill looked at his phone.

“Anything the matter?” Laura asked. She said it quietly, bouncing Chloe gently. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them, a testament to life with a newborn and the Zarek case that had abbreviated her maternity leave.

“Nope.” He said without a beat. He set the phone down, accepting Chloe into his arms. “Nothing at all.”


Atlanta, Georgia
Much too early on Sunday morning

“You’re thinking too loudly, Lee,” Kara groused in his ear at roughly four in the morning. “Stop thinking.”

“Stop talking,” Dee hissed from across the room.

“Stop moving,” Zak groaned.

“There are at least two too many people in this bed, Kara,” Lee replied as quietly as humanly possible, which sounded surprisingly loud. “Sleep is impossible.”

“Says the man who slept through Chloe’s wails more than once.”

“Y’all are damaging my calm,” Petra muttered from somewhere to his left, her voice somewhat muffled. He doubted she had more than six inches of the bed to call her own, and he made a mental note to placate her with coffee whenever the sun rose on this miserable day.

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to run to Starbucks dressed as Princess Leia.


Across the room there was a quiet growl and a series of thumps, which proved to be Tisha rolling gracelessly off the other bed, and continuing to softly snore in a tangle of sheets, following shortly by Dee absconding with a pillow and a blanket into the bathroom. The tub would most likely be hard and cold, but Lee found himself wishing he had thought of it first. The only thing that kept him from moving to the floor at this point was the knowledge that Kara would never allow him to take the pillow with him.

Next year- because he knew, as surely as he knew that the sun would rise, that Kara would insist on making this some sort of yearly pilgrimage- he was absolutely, positively booking a private room.


Atlanta, Georgia

They were waiting in line for the big panel of the day when the fight broke out again.

“You’re wrong.”

Billy shook his head. “Not again.”

Lee rubbed his temple and took a long sip of the gin and tonic hidden inside his water bottle. “Here we go...”

“It’s true,” Dee said.

Tisha crossed her arms and said again, “It’s not.”

“Look, I understand this is a difficult conversation for you to have, being deeply, deeply confused and all, but the fact of the matter is that Serenity is by far more awesome than the Millenium Falcon.

“Stand back and watch the ladies dance. Them’s fighting words,” Kara said, half a sandwich in her mouth.

“There is no way Serenity is better. It’s the Falcon! The ship that launched a million fanboy pirate fantasies. It’s the stuff of legend! Matched only by the TARDIS, in my opinion. But Serenity? It’s cool, granted, and spacious, but it’s just not...”

The argument continued long after they left the escalator in the Westin behind and strolled through the vendor booths, where Billy delighted in the vast number of geek-related t-shirts available. They ran the spectrum of humor from good to terrible, and he ended up with one reading “Science, it works, bitches” over another that read “Ah - element of surprise.” Petra managed to distract Tisha and Dee with a badly-drawn X-Files comic book, which had them all in stitches over the size of Scully’s shoulder pads and the horror that had been early 1990’s fashion, especially for those on a government salary.

It was a full 20 minutes until Zak turned to Lee with a stricken look on his face. “None of us has had to defend ourselves, been challenged to feats of strength or been dragged into a drinking contest in at least half an hour.”

Lee paled. “Where is Kara?” He called out over the din, voice rising an octave. Visions of her, cuffed and behind bars, flashed through his mind. A troubling, but definite possibility. This was not good. This was...

“She’s over there! By the elevator.”

Lee let out a breath. They wouldn’t have to pool bail money after all.

Petra narrowed her eyes. “Where did you go? You know you’re not supposed to vanish on us. We get concerned, Kara. Concerned.”

Kara slung her arm around her friend’s shoulders, leading them back into the madness of the lobby. The group followed them. “Give me a little credit, PT,” Kara said, “Would I do that to you?”

Dee and Tisha snorted. “Oh, let me think about it...” Dee asked rhetorically. “Experience says, Yes.

“I had your best interests at heart, Dualla,” Kara answered, puffing on a lollipop like it was a cigar. “I wanted to settle the Great Debate between you and Bloom.”

“So where’d you skip off to, then?” Zak asked.

Kara turned on her heel, walking backwards. “Went to get some opinions on that matter.”

Billy considered her suspiciously. “Whose opinions?”

“The experts. Moot though, since they kind of canceled each other out. Both made a good case, though. I’ll give ‘em that.” She held up her phone, displaying a photo of herself framed on either side by Han Solo himself, Harrison Ford, and a finger-gun pointing Captain Mal, aka Nathan Fillion.

Dee, Tisha and Petra’s mouths collectively dropped. A moment of silence passed.

“You,” Petra breathed. “Are my hero!”


Atlanta, Georgia
Sunday afternoon

The Marriott bar was full, but Kara managed to commandeer a table near the railing from a group of Han Solos with a few words. Zak presumed that some unwritten code of Han Solo cosplay was also involved.

“Dragon*Con is amazing,” Kara declared after a long drag on her beer. She propped her feet up on Lee’s lap, shooting him a leer. “What do you think, princess?”

“I think I’m staying home next year,” Lee replied glumly.

Zak, Billy and Sam exchanged an amused look. As if.

“Where are our guides to geek culture?” Zak asked, glancing over the sea of people a floor below. “Is Nathan Fillion giving another panel?”

Kara shook her head. “Meeting up with some friends of theirs- a Wren and Eliza, I think.”

“I’ve met them,” Billy offered, a strange, shifty look on his face. “It was educational.”

Kara peered at him with a slow grin. “Interesting descriptor.”

“Wren was testing a fake weapon for cosplay,” Billy replied, rubbing his head absently. “It works correctly now.”

“I am sure this is a hilarious story involving much alcohol,” Kara said, “and one day I will tie you down until you tell it to me. I am, however, sufficiently amused for the moment.” She gestured toward the clutch of Disney princesses in the corner, who had a long line of brightly colored shots arrayed before them. “I bet you ten bucks Aurora drinks them all under the table.”

“My story of pain is your rainy day amusement?” Billy asked dryly. “I’m not sure I like that. And I know better than to bet against your experienced eye.”

“Should have thought of that when you made friends with her,” Zak said as a waitress collected Kara’s empty glass. “It’s part of the package.”

“It’s not my fault she married into an otherwise sane family.” Billy glanced at Zak and Lee and appeared to reconsider. “Perhaps ‘sane’ was an unfortunate word choice,” he continued thoughtfully. “Even Dr. Adama has his moments.”

“Moments of linguistic madness,” Zak confirmed with a nod. “Half a dozen languages in the same head. No one can live at that speed.”

“Except the Dutch,” Sam offered in a seemingly serious tone. “But they’re cheating.”

Billy held up his hand. “Okay, okay. Enough with the Izzard.” He glanced to his left, momentarily distracted by the enthusiastic ‘woos’ of the princesses as they emptied one round of shots. “How did we get here, again?”

“Petra and Tisha’s strange obsessions, and Kara’s need to be right in the middle of insanity,” Zak replied, ruffling Kara’s hair and ignoring her subsequent glare. “Also her need to drag as many people down with her as possible. Did I ever tell you about the time she started a riot in Trader Joe’s? She’s still banned. The things we do for reasonably priced chana masala.”

Lee wearily covered his eyes. “Oh, my God.”


Atlanta, Georgia
Monday morning

The lights suddenly switched on at six in the morning, leading to a small chorus of groans and one disbelieving shriek.

“Morning shots,” Kara said cheerfully, gesturing toward the few bottles remaining of their stash. “Only one day left, and we can’t take it with us. It would be a waste to just leave it here,” she told them in a mildly scandalized tone.

“What is my life?” Dee moaned, pulling the blankets over her head. “What are my choices?”

“Who wants what?” Kara asked, shuffling the bottles in front of her consideringly. “Brandy... vodka... vanilla vodka, what the fuck?... rum....”

“How can there still be alcohol?” Billy asked the room in general, looking half-awake and stunned. “How can there still be alcohol left in the world?”

“It is fairly amazing, but there you go,” Kara replied with a shrug, holding out a small glass filled with clear liquid. “Come on, my little pipette,” she said jauntily, grinning as Tisha and Petra began to giggle, both sounding near drunk on sleep deprivation. “This’ll put some hair on your chest.”

“I have hair on my chest,” he muttered resentfully in reply, but took the small glass and tossed the contents back. “Oh,” he said with a wheeze, pulling himself into a fetal position reflexively. “I think I just got attacked by a mutant cupcake.”

“Sam, what’s your pleasure?” Kara held up the brandy and waggled it temptingly.

“Whatever it is, put it in coffee,” Sam replied, slinging his arm over his face. “I can live with anything, just make sure coffee is involved.”

“I love a man who makes few demands,” Kara said as she prepped the coffee maker. “Pity this only makes two cups.”

Another chorus of groans.

“There’s still decaf, after that.”

Petra spoke for the room. “Leave me to die.”


Logan Int’l Airport
Tuesday afternoon

“So,” Bill asked, glancing at the bedraggled crew before him. “Did you have fun?”

The group exchanged looks of uncertainty. “Did we have fun?” Billy asked, rubbing his forehead. “My memory is a bit fuzzy.”

Petra sneezed. “We had fun,” she said forcefully, swaying slightly where she stood. “We just didn’t sleep. Or eat properly. And we might all have the plague.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kara said with a grin, pulling her camera out of its bag. “I am the picture of health,” she continued- a true statement, especially in comparison with everyone else. “Here, Bill. Photographic proof that fun was had.” She scanned quickly through the first few photos, finally stopping on one that clearly showed the majority of the group dead asleep in the two beds the hotel room had sported, Zak wearing Petra’s Kaylee jacket over his Eleven costume for some inexplicable reason. “Also proof that we did indeed sleep, despite what Petra claims.”

“One day,” Zak told Lee seriously as they began to exit the airport, Kara still showing off her work, “those pictures will destroy any chance you might have had of being elected to public office.”

“She’s just trying to save me from myself,” Lee replied with a yawn, slinging an arm over his brother’s shoulders. Maybe it was the sleep-deprivation, or the fact that he suspected he was still slightly buzzed, but Lee suddenly felt at peace with the world.

“And this,” Kara said in a gleeful tone, bouncing slightly as she walked, “is the greatest photo of my illustrious career.” She angled her camera so that Bill could sufficiently see his eldest son as princess of Alderaan, complete with an indignant you-damn-Imperial-scum expression and an endearing two inch gap between the hem of his gown and the tops of his sneakers. “What should I call it?”

Petra, Tisha and Dee glanced back as one at Lee, whose content expression darkened as he felt Zak’s shoulders shaking with barely-restrained laughter beneath his arm. Sam peered over Kara’s shoulder at the picture, a reluctant grin appearing on his face.

“The Fandom Strikes Back,” he suggested, studiously avoiding meeting Lee’s eyes. Instead he sidled closer to Petra and whispered, “I am so glad the worst you asked me to do was wear a pair of tight pants.”

Life was intolerable, sometimes. “I love everyone in this bar,” Lee muttered sourly, and slung his bag into the trunk of the car.

It was essential- utterly essential- that he come prepared with his own damn costumes next year.

Current Mood: accomplished
deja brew?: you can't make this shit upcoffeesuperhero on October 14th, 2012 07:17 pm (UTC)

Here is how much I loved this story:

I was in the middle of making food and the oven timer went off and I actually swore at it because it was distracting me from reading.


And oh my god: “You said there would be a line. You never said it would rival a Soviet era breadline.”

Everything about this is gold. GOLD. And I'm not just saying that because my cosplay weapons work now. ;)YOU ARE GENIUSES.

the moon accepts your ridiculous proposalmiabicicletta on October 14th, 2012 09:04 pm (UTC)
Oh man this is the dumbest thing ever. We're so insane. But I'm glad you enjoyed the madness of the ride! :D :D :D
Elfie: writingmarzipanilla on October 14th, 2012 07:33 pm (UTC)
What a fun ride!

Your own con experiences seem crazy. In the good way.

Billy is totally skinny enough to pull off a Doctor! Especially Elven or Ten.
Love how Kara makes it through it all.
the moon accepts your ridiculous proposalmiabicicletta on October 14th, 2012 09:20 pm (UTC)
Don't you know better than to feed the monsters :D

Thanks so much for reading! You might be almost as crazy as we are for it...
MSerradamserrada on October 14th, 2012 09:22 pm (UTC)
Oh, this is good! So very good and scarily realistic ;)
Call Me OneTrack: K/L: Lol!callmeonetrack on October 14th, 2012 10:23 pm (UTC)
Lol! Very very cute, ladies! :D

Edited at 2012-10-14 10:23 pm (UTC)
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newnumbertwonewnumbertwo on October 14th, 2012 11:12 pm (UTC)
This was so much fun! I love all the allusions to the various fandoms. I felt like I was actually there. ♥
obsessive_a101obsessive_a101 on October 15th, 2012 12:04 am (UTC)
Annnnd, THIS is why you guys TOTALLY WIN!!! :D :D :D

Reading this was spectacular fun, and even though I have yet to have the opportunity to attend a D*Con, I felt like I was there in between all those crazy non-occurring shenanigans. ;) Also, you modernization of BSG characters into our universe was great, along with the fact that I am sitting in the middle of a Cambridge, MA winter right now, and I wish it were warmer... >>'
whatever_ljwhatever_lj on October 15th, 2012 11:59 am (UTC)
I'm giggling a lot -- even though I don't always know why I'm giggling!
koolaidmom11koolaidmom11 on October 15th, 2012 12:08 pm (UTC)
hahaha...funniest damn thing ever!!!!! Princess Lee-a! right there you have a win

also...so much hotness in one room. I once made a trip with 12 people in one hotel room. Of course, I was 17 so it was easier.
larsfarm77: Eddie and Mary dancinglarsfarm77 on October 15th, 2012 01:11 pm (UTC)
This was hilarious -- the geek references everywhere had me LMAO, and this wonderful, vicarious experience saves me a ton of con crud!! Awesome, ladies!
rococo: Big Frakking Bagrococoms on October 18th, 2012 06:17 am (UTC)
The hilarity of this cannot fully be expressed. I love it all- anything that combines the awesomeness of If Not Winter, Book of Pythia *and* D*C is an actual cultural treasure. I'm still laughing.
justascrewup2: BSG - Kara Cooljustascrewup2 on June 9th, 2013 04:47 pm (UTC)
This was sheer, cracktastic genius! Loved every bit of it. Probably helps that I've been to D*C several times so I got all of the in-jokes. There was one part of this that was totally unrealistic though. Much as it pains me, Harrison Ford would never do D*C ;)
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justascrewup2: BSG - Kara Cooljustascrewup2 on June 12th, 2013 01:44 am (UTC)
Yes, definitely can dream. Maybe someday...