Title: About Last Night
Chapter Two
Rated: T, heading towards a mild M I guess
Written for
bugsfic's birthday. Sorry this is taking me so long everyone. A word here and there while trying to keep up with rl isn't getting me too far. Oh, and it seems I need more than two chapters. *head desk*
Find chapter one
here She was moulded against his side.
“So small and fragile.”
He never heard her soft snort.
“So lovely; a precious gift, enhanced by red wrapping; shining brightly on an otherwise dull planet.”
She lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek. “So poetic,” she teased gently before curling herself back into position and closing her eyes.
Bill rubbed his temples. His head was a jumbled mess.
Laura seemed to be faring much better than he was since they’d found a coffee vendor on their walk down to the river. At this moment, while he stood waiting for the wedding party in the shade, she was excitedly exploring the small grassed area by the water. Every few minutes she would enthusiastically point out ways they could utilise the natural environment.
“I wonder how cold the water is?” she asked. “It’s not quite as clear as the lake on the ridge, but it’s still quite nice.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Maybe there is some hope for this planet, after all.”
Bill gulped, desperately trying to alleviate his parched mouth. She was almost as relaxed and loose-limbed as she was last night.
“What?” she husked, swaying on the spot for a moment before slowly strolling over to him.
The sun was catching in her hair, highlighting the different streaks of red in amongst the thick, tangled locks. He wondered why she never pinned it up. Had she even had it cut since the attacks?
The red wrap was tied loosely just under her breasts. The dress beneath was tight, accentuating the fullness of her curves. A red skirt flowed haphazardly over the top of the grey dress, hiding her legs which he knew were sleek and stunning. Hiding them made him want to touch them all the more.
When she reached his side, she slowly took a nut from the bag he was still holding. “You remember something?” She curled her tongue out to lick the salt from the corner of her mouth.
“I couldn’t possibly say what I’m thinking out loud.”
She eyed him over the top of her glasses, “You did last night.”
“What? You remember something?” His words came out much more abruptly than he’d intended.
With jerky fingers, she pulled the two red sides of her wrap around her more securely, indignant.
Her hair tickled his cheek as he exhaled, but he never brushed it away.
He rolled her over onto her back and kissed her until she was gasping for breath.
He took a long drag of his cigarette.
He lifted her skirt, whispering a caress along her thigh.
He blew a plume of smoke above her head.
“You’re so sexy when you’re rumpled.”
Their lips met again, their hands burrowing beneath their clothes, seeking bare skin.
She lifted her head and looked around, disorientated. He held out the cigarette as an offer. She shook her head, smiled sweetly and nestled back upon his chest, one arm draping over his body to lightly grasp his arm.
A warm hug from Kara snapped Bill out of his daydream.
Sam, still looking as dazed as when he’d seen Bill earlier, hovered behind her. Rounding out the guests were Saul and Ellen.
“Hey, Bill,” Saul greeted him with a slap to the back. “Didn’t see much of you last night.”
“I was around.”
Saul and Ellen both eyed Laura warily.
“Saul. Ellen,” she greeted them coolly with a barely perceptible nod.
“Who’d have thought?” Bill said, nodding towards Kara and Sam.
They all made little surprised sounds, nodded, and shrugged.
“Lee must have returned to Pegasus last night. It’s a shame he’s going to miss it.”
If Bill hadn’t been looking over at the arriving priest, he would have seen all three of his companions raising their eyebrows before they all turned their attention to the start of the ceremony.
“She looks a little nervous,” Laura quietly noted.
“Don’t all brides?”
She just hummed and they fell silent as the priest weaved his religious beliefs into a poem for lovers.
The ceremony was brief, but traditional.
“Who will give this woman?” the priest asked.
Kara turned to him and nodded.
Tears welled in his eyes as he said, “I do.”
They were kissing; no chaste kiss of friends, but a hungry kiss of lovers. His fingers were biting into her hips, holding her close.
“Let’s go home,” she gasped.
“Home?”
The red wrap fell to the floor. She trembled with each light stroke of his fingers.
“You're right. We can't go home. How about my tent?”
“Your tent?”
He bent his head, kissing a freckle just below her right collarbone.
“Yes. We can’t keep doing this here.”
“Here?”
Small dark figurines, which were painting shadows over the deep gold curtain draped across the side of the tent, stared down at them.
He took hold of her arm. “Let’s get out of here,” he growled.
Bill sat beneath one of the small trees; Laura’s socks and shoes neatly stacked beside him.
The wedding was over. The priest had returned to his temple.
Sam and Kara were sitting on a blanket in the shade a few yards away. A tattoo artist was etching half the Wing of Caprica along Starbuck’s left arm. Apparently Sam would soon get the other half on his arm, thus cementing their commitment, they told everyone. Saul and Ellen were standing nearby, clearly fascinated.
Bill was watching halfheartedly. He’d seen more than his share of tattoos being applied in his day.
Most of his attention, as per usual, was turned toward Laura. She was standing on the edge of the river, holding her skirt up, wading through the shallow water happily.
His heart skipped a beat every time she glanced in his direction. Sometimes she waved, other times she just grinned.
He checked his watch, amazingly it was only 800 hours. It was, however, late enough for the alcohol and drugs to be leaving his system, to be replaced by a hangover. His eyes were itchy, his throat was dry and his stomach was churning. Every time someone spoke, it sounded like they were yelling into a microphone. And some sort of indigenous insect must have stung him behind his ear. He just needed a couple hours of shut-eye...He lay back on the grass and closed his eyes.
“Strange.”
He pried open one of his eyes. Laura was perched on a grassy mound beside his feet.
“What?”
“The Tighs being the only other guests.”
“Yes.” He glanced over at the odd group. “Seems the events of the last nine months have made everyone change.”
She shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted over at him. “You’ve changed?”
He closed his eyes again; colours danced behind his lids. “Yeah, we’ve all changed.”
He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not when Laura changed the subject. “You’re Tauron?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means that I was born on Caprica to Tauron parents. So it depends who’s asking and why they want to know.”
He would swear he could hear her brain ticking over, considering this information.
“I’m asking,” she finally murmured.
He dragged himself up into the sitting position and met her intense gaze. “I’m Tauron,” he said, quietly, with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Is that why you don’t have any tattoos? For the times you want, or have, to be Caprican?”
“No. For a Tauron, tattoos are not just body art, or a whim of youth. They are the entire detailed history of your life. The markings indicate the basics, like your family’s heritage, your occupation, and your marital status; the trivial, like what subjects you excelled at school, your hobbies and favourite sports; and the deeply personal, like a tribute to relatives that have died and whether or not you fought in a war.”
She turned her head to one side as if he was a curious museum exhibit. “I still don’t understand why you don’t have any, Bill. You fought in the First Cylon War. You were married. Zak...” He closed his eyes again for a moment during her pause. “Your father wouldn’t approve? I know you’ve told me that you and he...never saw eye to eye.”
He snorted. “No, he had markings on his body. I didn't always live up to them.”
He turned his head towards the makeshift tattoo parlour beneath the next tree.
“Pride,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Taurons are a proud peoples. My father was a proud man. Tauron tattoos display your pride. Pride in yourself. Pride in others. You’re advertising your successes to every man you meet.”
“What about Zak?” she dared to ask again. “You don’t want to show off the way you felt about him? The success he’d made of his life before his accident?”
“And there’s the quandary I could never get past,” he sighed heavily. “My relationship with my parents was never strong, so should I take that step and announce who they were on my arm? I survived the war, but so many others I fought alongside never. Should anyone consider those deaths a success? Zak...” He looked out over the water of the river. “Zak died in an accident. One that, if I’d been more involved in his life, I may have been able to prevent. Should I ink that onto my chest for prosperity? No,” he answered his own question, firmly. “I don’t need reminders of my failures.”
“Bill...” She laced his fingers with hers.
“When I find something I’m completely proud of; something that I am sure I will always consider as a success; something that I would be happy the entire universe know about forever; that will be the day I’ll get a tattoo.”
She squeezed his hand gently.
He looked back at her. She was frowning worriedly up at him. He gave her a small crooked grin. “That will be a good day.”
End of Chapter Two
Link to the next chapter