Fic for Team!Bill!!!
Title: Dreams of a Happy Ending
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
Word Count: 1130
For the prompts: make up sex and a battle ensues.
This is my attempt to make sense of Laura’s visions in The Hub. Set post Six of One argument.
Laura knew she could have asked Cottle if she could stay the night in sickbay, or gained the doctor’s permission to return to Colonial One.
Yet, she did neither.
Instead, here she was; sitting on Bill’s couch, waiting for him to return from CIC.
A book lay in her lap; a prop for when he came through the hatch. She hadn’t read a word for the past hour. The chronometer on the wall captured her attention again now. He was late. Perhaps Joe’s was proving to be a more attractive prospect than being at home, with her, again tonight.
At that exact moment she heard the familiar clunk as the hatch spun.
Quickly, she slid her glasses back into place and carried on with her pretence of reading.
She felt his eyes settle on her immediately. She’d become accustomed to the intensity of his looks a long time ago, but she still always sensed when he was watching her.
“Hey,” he finally said as a greeting.
Slowly she set aside the book and looked up at him, willing her hands not to shake.
He looked tired, and unusually old.
“Hey, yourself,” she said quietly.
“You eaten?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I’m not real hungry.”
His mouth thinned. “Of course not.”
He removed his tunic slowly, hanging it carefully in his locker by the rack. She flinched as his fingers brushed against her jacket and blouses which shared space with his clothes.
“I was thinking about my sister’s wedding today,” she said.
She had told him very few details about Cheryl and Sandra, and those few only after he’d pressed.
He perched on the edge of the rack, bending one leg over another to remove his boots.
“Yeah?” he asked, his tone exaggeratingly casual.
“She gave a speech.” She snorted. “The Roslin women were never the most conventional.”
“No.”
She smiled. Somehow he’d made that one word seem like an endearment.
She went on: “She started the speech complaining about the way Patrick had never brought her flowers in the whole time she’d known him. So, why did she marry him, she asked. That was easy, she laughed. He helped her with her taxes, fixed her toilet and knew how many sugars she took in her coffee after date number one.”
She stood and made her way to the rack. His hands were fisted, leaning on his knees. She wriggled her way to stand between his legs. Cupping his face, she forced him to hold her gaze.
“You’ve never brought me flowers,” she rasped.
They kept staring into each other eyes, neither saying a word. Their tense, silent moment went on for so long, she finally laughed, effectively shattering it.
He wrapped his arms around her, letting his head rest on her healthy breast.
She held him close, murmuring vague endearments and twining her fingers through his thick hair.
After a long time, she felt his hand move to rest on her hip. The gentle touch was such a familiar unspoken question. One she wished with all her heart she could answer the way they both wanted.
“It’s not safe yet.”
The Diloxin stayed in her system for two weeks. It could be harmful to him if they indulged during this time.
“Yeah, I know.”
He reclined onto the rack, taking her with him. He began to slowly kiss her neck and shoulders. She sighed contentedly, letting the sensations he evoked with his mouth wash over her.
No wonder she resisted being with him for so long. At times like this she could almost forget everything but him.
“We’ll make up for lost time when you’re better.”
“Bill--”
He leaned down and kissed away whatever she was going to add. She sighed, partly in frustration, partly in resignation.
His fingers crept beneath her blouse. Her breath caught while he explored the new hollows caused by her rapid weight loss.
Perhaps this was how it should be. If he was too stubborn to see she was dying, perhaps letting him feel it would finally make him face reality.
She took his hand, squeezing it gently before raising it up to comb his fingers through the hair on her crown. Next, she turned his hand over; a clump of red strands lay across his palm.
“We always knew this would happen,” he said. “We knew it would get worse before it got better.”
What if it doesn’t get better? She wanted to scream the words out at him, but instead she let him kiss her again.
Between kisses, they stripped off their remaining clothes until they lay naked and tangled together.
“You were right last night, you know. I am afraid to die alone,” she murmured against his chest, her hand stroking along the familiar red line which was such a part of him now. “But more than that, I’m also afraid to die with you there.”
“Whadya mean?” he mumbled.
“I’m afraid you won’t want to be there. You’ll be there out of duty, or pity, or because everyone, including me, just plain expects you to be there. I’m afraid that you’ll be so tired of me by then. I’m afraid of being so wrapped up in my illness that I become selfish and alienate you. I’m afraid that one day you’ll wake up and I will be out of your head.”
“Your mother...” She heard the hesitant question as he said the words.
“Yes,” she admitted, shivering a little with the memories that returned. “She was such a kind, friendly person her whole life. But near the end...It was almost as if the cancer forced all the warmth from her. One day, I was trying to be sympathetic, trying to understand, and she said...” She hiccuped and sniffed. “She said...”
If possible, he dragged her closer--as close as they could possibly ever get while not making love.
“She said that one day she hoped I’d understand exactly what she was going through.”
“I’m sure she never meant it this way.”
“I don’t want to be like that, Bill. I want to be peaceful.”
“Hey.” He pulled back just enough so she could see his face. “We’re not that far yet.” He gave her a little shake. “There’ll be no peace for you yet, Laura Roslin.”
She managed a wobbly smile, and he rewarded her with another soft kiss.
He leaned over to flick off the main lights in his quarters before pulling a blanket over them and settling their bodies into a comfortable position for the night.
The stresses of last night were catching up on her, but she did manage to hear Bill’s final words on the subject before drifting off.
“Neither of us is going anywhere.”
The End
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
Word Count: 1130
For the prompts: make up sex and a battle ensues.
This is my attempt to make sense of Laura’s visions in The Hub. Set post Six of One argument.
Laura knew she could have asked Cottle if she could stay the night in sickbay, or gained the doctor’s permission to return to Colonial One.
Yet, she did neither.
Instead, here she was; sitting on Bill’s couch, waiting for him to return from CIC.
A book lay in her lap; a prop for when he came through the hatch. She hadn’t read a word for the past hour. The chronometer on the wall captured her attention again now. He was late. Perhaps Joe’s was proving to be a more attractive prospect than being at home, with her, again tonight.
At that exact moment she heard the familiar clunk as the hatch spun.
Quickly, she slid her glasses back into place and carried on with her pretence of reading.
She felt his eyes settle on her immediately. She’d become accustomed to the intensity of his looks a long time ago, but she still always sensed when he was watching her.
“Hey,” he finally said as a greeting.
Slowly she set aside the book and looked up at him, willing her hands not to shake.
He looked tired, and unusually old.
“Hey, yourself,” she said quietly.
“You eaten?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I’m not real hungry.”
His mouth thinned. “Of course not.”
He removed his tunic slowly, hanging it carefully in his locker by the rack. She flinched as his fingers brushed against her jacket and blouses which shared space with his clothes.
“I was thinking about my sister’s wedding today,” she said.
She had told him very few details about Cheryl and Sandra, and those few only after he’d pressed.
He perched on the edge of the rack, bending one leg over another to remove his boots.
“Yeah?” he asked, his tone exaggeratingly casual.
“She gave a speech.” She snorted. “The Roslin women were never the most conventional.”
“No.”
She smiled. Somehow he’d made that one word seem like an endearment.
She went on: “She started the speech complaining about the way Patrick had never brought her flowers in the whole time she’d known him. So, why did she marry him, she asked. That was easy, she laughed. He helped her with her taxes, fixed her toilet and knew how many sugars she took in her coffee after date number one.”
She stood and made her way to the rack. His hands were fisted, leaning on his knees. She wriggled her way to stand between his legs. Cupping his face, she forced him to hold her gaze.
“You’ve never brought me flowers,” she rasped.
They kept staring into each other eyes, neither saying a word. Their tense, silent moment went on for so long, she finally laughed, effectively shattering it.
He wrapped his arms around her, letting his head rest on her healthy breast.
She held him close, murmuring vague endearments and twining her fingers through his thick hair.
After a long time, she felt his hand move to rest on her hip. The gentle touch was such a familiar unspoken question. One she wished with all her heart she could answer the way they both wanted.
“It’s not safe yet.”
The Diloxin stayed in her system for two weeks. It could be harmful to him if they indulged during this time.
“Yeah, I know.”
He reclined onto the rack, taking her with him. He began to slowly kiss her neck and shoulders. She sighed contentedly, letting the sensations he evoked with his mouth wash over her.
No wonder she resisted being with him for so long. At times like this she could almost forget everything but him.
“We’ll make up for lost time when you’re better.”
“Bill--”
He leaned down and kissed away whatever she was going to add. She sighed, partly in frustration, partly in resignation.
His fingers crept beneath her blouse. Her breath caught while he explored the new hollows caused by her rapid weight loss.
Perhaps this was how it should be. If he was too stubborn to see she was dying, perhaps letting him feel it would finally make him face reality.
She took his hand, squeezing it gently before raising it up to comb his fingers through the hair on her crown. Next, she turned his hand over; a clump of red strands lay across his palm.
“We always knew this would happen,” he said. “We knew it would get worse before it got better.”
What if it doesn’t get better? She wanted to scream the words out at him, but instead she let him kiss her again.
Between kisses, they stripped off their remaining clothes until they lay naked and tangled together.
“You were right last night, you know. I am afraid to die alone,” she murmured against his chest, her hand stroking along the familiar red line which was such a part of him now. “But more than that, I’m also afraid to die with you there.”
“Whadya mean?” he mumbled.
“I’m afraid you won’t want to be there. You’ll be there out of duty, or pity, or because everyone, including me, just plain expects you to be there. I’m afraid that you’ll be so tired of me by then. I’m afraid of being so wrapped up in my illness that I become selfish and alienate you. I’m afraid that one day you’ll wake up and I will be out of your head.”
“Your mother...” She heard the hesitant question as he said the words.
“Yes,” she admitted, shivering a little with the memories that returned. “She was such a kind, friendly person her whole life. But near the end...It was almost as if the cancer forced all the warmth from her. One day, I was trying to be sympathetic, trying to understand, and she said...” She hiccuped and sniffed. “She said...”
If possible, he dragged her closer--as close as they could possibly ever get while not making love.
“She said that one day she hoped I’d understand exactly what she was going through.”
“I’m sure she never meant it this way.”
“I don’t want to be like that, Bill. I want to be peaceful.”
“Hey.” He pulled back just enough so she could see his face. “We’re not that far yet.” He gave her a little shake. “There’ll be no peace for you yet, Laura Roslin.”
She managed a wobbly smile, and he rewarded her with another soft kiss.
He leaned over to flick off the main lights in his quarters before pulling a blanket over them and settling their bodies into a comfortable position for the night.
The stresses of last night were catching up on her, but she did manage to hear Bill’s final words on the subject before drifting off.
“Neither of us is going anywhere.”
The End