Writing Request: How to leave with everything you came for. (BSG L/L)
Next up on becca's write-o-rama is asta77's request for a missing Lee/Laura scene from Razor. So, (because I still suck at titles) I present 3,000ish words of:
ETA: it's been a long time since I did this - disclaimer; I don't own these characters or this setting and I'm not making any money!
How to leave with everything you came for.
"Madam President," Lee nodded, formally, as she entered his quarters, then turned to the junior officer escorting her. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."
The young girl snapped a salute, and the door shut, heavily, behind her.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
There was something less than sincere in his voice, and Laura moved her head fractionally to take in the room. There were chairs, at least, but the place was still uncomfortably new; a sleekness that was nearly alien - cylon - and Laura found it difficult to forget its history.
"I came to wish you luck, Commander. I saw Major Shaw leaving," she nodded at his tactical table. "I assume you were finalising the details of the assault."
"If you're asking me if I fired her, the answer's no."
"I was not."
Lee had a glass of water, pinioned between a model of the Pegasus and the Cylon Basestar. He lifted it from the tactical table's backlit surface and took a sip. Her comfort with silence outstripped his. Always had, though once that had been a reassuring thought. When her attention felt less like a sniper's lasersight and more like affection; as though she cared enough to stay quiet until he was ready to talk, instead of telling him what he wanted to say.
"She offered me her resignation. I declined."
Laura nodded. An easy gesture though, Lee was certain, entirely calculated. He changed the subject.
"I was under the impression my father would be my only house-guest on this trip, Madam President. Will you also be joining us? I can vacate my quarters. That does seem to have become standing protocol for Presidential visits."
He was being snide, and hated himself for it. But she was playing him like a lyre and he felt he should at least try to affect the tune.
"No," the President said. "I'll admit I'm curious, but the fleet has little to gain from putting its military and civilian heads in danger at the same time."
"We're all constantly in danger," Lee said, almost wistfully.
"We are."
This time, Lee found he was too tired to resent the settling silence, and broke it more easily for that.
"Can I offer you a drink?" he asked
"Yes," she said. "Thank you."
He gestured to one of the couches either side of a glass-topped coffee table, and she took a seat while he pulled a flask of Ambrosia - bright, mouth-wash green - from a cabinet along with two glasses. He sat opposite and poured two drinks.
Laura took the glass but didn't raise it to her lips. Her eyes travelled the room. "Even if I were staying," she said. "I don't think I could stay here. Doesn't its history disturb you?"
"Yes," Lee admitted. "But moving elsewhere would make me look weak. Worse it would look like I was rejecting Cain's legacy entirely. Major Shaw was uncomfortable enough with new furniture," he offered a tight smile and a shrug.
Laura did not reciprocate; she remained entirely still. "Aren't you?" she said.
"Rejecting Cain's legacy? Yes," he paused. "No," he added. "I disagree with her methods," he finally said. "But she kept this crew alive."
The look she gave him was conspiratorial. That sideways narrowing of the eyes as if they were sharing a private joke, and one not entirely suited to polite company. "And are you going to give me your father's spiel now? That we can't judge her actions until we're in her situation? That her decisions were tactically sound?"
Lee narrowed his own eyes in return. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny. The truth was that he did not agree with his father. The military code of conduct was explicit in its mandate to serve as a defensive force for the civilian population above all else. Cain's orders might have been understandable, but so were crimes of passion. It didn't make them any more legal. It didn't make them any more right. In truth, he hated having to act as if there was a single thing about Cain he respected. Because if situations were allowed to compromise principles, at the whim of a single being, then principles were fantasies. Then the entire fleet was built on a fantasy and it would be as sturdy as sand when the next tide came in.
But these days, Laura was the last person he would choose to discuss this. In truth, he wasn't sure there was anyone left alive he could choose. And he felt his jaw clench in anger at the thought of her casual, friendly entreaty to discredit his father's opinion.
"Why are you here?" he bit out.
She straightened, and he was surprised to see a flicker of sorrow cross her face before she composed herself. He had hurt her. He had forgotten that he could.
"I came address the troops before the mission launch. It seemed appropriate to wish you luck personally."
"Really," he said, more quietly. "Why are you here?"
"Your father has a very personal stake in this mission," she said.
Lee nodded.
"I know I can rely on you to keep the best interests of the fleet at heart."
Softly, Lee chuckled. He knocked back the remains of his Ambrosia and shook his head.
"Sure," he said, gazing beyond her, to a watercolour replica of Picon in Spring, hanging on the wall. Impressionistic and blurred. "Sure, you can count on me. Madam President."
"I've upset you."
"I'm fine."
"Lee..."
His name, whispered, from her lips to his ear; it was too intimate. Too close. He spun at her. "You appeal to my honour; my morals," he said. He was boiling, but his words came out constricted and tightly controlled. "Every time it's convenient. And if this were a mission where you were asking me to do something distasteful, would you reverse the situation? Would you be drinking with my father, inviting him to dismiss my opinions on what's necessary and what isn't, and asking him to make sure, when the time came, that he completed his mission?"
"Commander..."
Lee was not to be interrupted. He slammed his tumbler down on the table so hard the glass surface rattled as his voice rose in pitch and force. "But when I don't do what you expect, you don't like it. When I make the call about how much moral ambiguity we can take before we break apart. You don't like it."
"I remind you, Commander," Laura said, her tone only a handful of decibels above her normal range, but as cold and hard as the spaceward side of Pegasus' hull. He had no illusions she was anything other than enraged. "That there is a great difference between accepting the practical necessity of allowing prisoners convicted of past crimes to reintegrate into society and encouraging perpetrators of current crimes to continue at the expense of our population's wellbeing."
"I wasn't talking about the black market," Lee hissed.
Carefully, Laura put her untouched drink down on the table across from his empty glass. Her eyes were a warning. And a challenge. In the fluorescent light, they were unnaturally blue. Two boiling blue-giant stars headed for supernova, but right now, content to hang in the cold, empty vastness of the space between them. Seething.
"You had my father try to assassinate Cain."
"I did."
There, he'd said it and she hadn't denied it and nothing was fixed. Her acceptance was maddening. Her silence was maddening. He balled is fist and took a deep breath and prepared himself to, yet again, break the silence she had poured into the room.
But there was no need. This time, she spoke first.
"Commander," she said. "Would you rather I had left her in charge?"
"No," he ground the word between his teeth.
"Do you think she would have come quietly, or at all, had I ordered her to stand down?"
"No."
"Then what, in the gods' names, do you think I should have done?"
"You should have told me!" the words tore out of him before he could check himself. And once he had said them, he found it hard to stop. "You should have told me, and instead you told him You trusted him. You never even gave me a chance."
She was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and what he hoped was sadness and feared was pity. She stood, raised one hand to her mouth, and rested the other on her hip as she started pacing.
"He was second in rank to Cain," she said. "I needed his approval, not yours."
Even to Laura's ears, the words sounded weaker than they should have, and not simply because she kept her hand near her mouth, fingers resting on her upper lip; a nervous and embarrassing habit.
"I was the one you confided in about your cancer," Lee said, quietly, angrily, quickly, rising to his feet. "I was the one who believed in you and committed mutiny for you. For you. Because I believed in you. When my father wished you'd sign off on a military dictatorship and begrudged you every minute on his ship, I believed in you. And in what I thought you stood for."
"I'm tired of being a symbol, Captain Apollo," she whispered.
"No, you're just tired," Lee sneered. "Now that my father's decided you're 'one of the gang', it's easier to confide in him than me. He's a more convenient ally. Because you've got his loyalty now, and that means, just like Kara, he'll let this whole frakking fleet burn before he denies you anything."
"I'm not here to let you vent your issues with your father, Lee," she snapped.
"No, you're here to exploit them and make sure I disobey him if another one of his personal loyalties eclipses his loyalty to you."
"That's not fair."
"You ditched me!" he roared.
"Are you twelve?" she yelled back.
She had stopped walking the length of the couch and was staring at him with a force that - had he been twelve - would certainly have caused him to fall into his seat. When he didn't, she had a brief, embarrassing moment where she hoped he would step towards her.
Instead he said, "No, I'm not twelve. But I'm a person godsdammit and you just walked away."
It went to her heart. She had nothing to say that was not petty, but found herself saying it anyway.
"I'm sorry your personal issues mean you're having difficulty adjusting to the fact that my relationship with the Admiral improved, but there's no need to see it as a betrayal."
"Yes. Your relationship looks very cosy."
"Commander, if you were standing any closer, I would slap you."
"Go ahead. Take your best shot."
She didn't move. Or speak.
"He's falling in love with you," Lee said, bluntly.
"Commander, this discussion is leading to a very bad place."
"Probably," he bent over, picked up the bottle of Ambrosia, and took a drink straight from the neck.
"I'd appreciate an apology for your innuendo."
"I'd appreciate an apology for your abandonment," he retorted.
To his utter astonishment, she said, "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"Now it's your turn."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not sorry. About what I said."
"Captain Apollo, I already told you I wasn't here to listen to you vent your paternal issues; I'm even less interested in entangling myself in your Oedipal ones."
She could tell she'd shocked him. Truthfully she'd shocked herself, but being here; this conversation, was wearing her thinner than it ought to. Challenging decisions she spent enough time defending from herself and had little energy to defend from others.
"That's a low blow," Lee said.
"It's accurate. You resent my relationship with your father, and from the way you're talking, you'd like very much to knock him down a peg or two. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm sure you don't want to kill him."
"You're not my mother," Lee said.
"Obviously, but apparently I'm a woman you perceive as somehow attached to your father."
"You know why else it doesn't work?"
Laura crossed her arms. "Tell me."
"Because," Lee said, with a viciousness Laura was certain came from a desire to throw something as bitter in her face as she'd thrown in his. A dangerous desire that could make people say things that couldn't be taken back. But it was too late to stop it now, and she was to blame. She was the one who'd insulted him because she'd been afraid of the discussion and where it might end. There was that part of her that feared Lee was right, that she was encouraging the crush she knew Adama harboured, hoping to make use of that dangerous, illogical loyalty that benefited Colonel Tigh and Kara Thrace and even Lee himself though the man rarely realised it. "Because," Lee continued. "Oedipus killed his father and stole his father's wife. The woman didn't leave Oedipus. I had you first."
Laura did not know what to say. For the first time since entering the room, her silence was not intentional. And her heart skipped two beats because she had absolutely no idea what Lee Adama was going to do next.
Lee Adama stepped around the table, trapping Laura with the backs of her knees against the couch, his face barely six inches from hers.
Emphasising with his finger, jabbing at the air, he said, "I had you first."
The beats her heart had skipped fell back into her chest double-time. If she lifted her hands and pushed against his shoulders, she knew he would back away; she could leave and they would both be grateful in the long-term. She dropped her eyes, hoping it would break the moment, but he stayed exactly where he was.
"And what did you do, when you had me, Captain Apollo?" she whispered. "I told you, I'm too tired and too old to be anyone's symbol."
She wasn't sure what she was expecting. A sarcastic remark, perhaps. Or an earnest rebuttal. Attacking her for making such a claim while she encouraged tales of her own holiness, or urging her to embrace her role as President, as prophet, as guide. She expected a tack that would, one way or another, champion a jealousy she was sure had more to do with his need to see her a certain way, than a desire for her himself.
Laura felt suddenly very old, very foolish, and very angry at her racing heart. She closed her eyes.
Lee leant forward and kissed her.
She was so surprised, she didn't stop him, and after a second, began to reciprocate. He reached a hand up to hold the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, while her right arm slid around his waist; her left arm lifted as if she meant going to grab his shoulder, but never made its target as they sank down onto the couch.
By the time she had gathered enough resolve to place her palms against his chest and push - resulting in an awkward position: Laura about to slide from the overly polished leather, Lee supporting himself in a press-up position with both hands against one of the arm-rests, one either side of her head - the front of her shirt was entirely unbuttoned, and she found herself wondering when, exactly, her hands had decided to attack the buckle on his belt.
"Commander," she said. "You don't want to be doing this."
Lee was trying to slow his mind, clear his thoughts, compose an adequate response, when he realised he didn't need to. So many times her simple responses left him talking himself in circles. All the time trying to be a good man, the right man, as if using enough words would make others see why he did what he did. So many explanations for such little understanding.
He looked at Laura, straight at her, and said. "Yes, I do."
"I'm twice as old as you."
"You're not twice as old as me."
"I'm a lot older than you."
"Yes."
"You have a very pretty girlfriend, Lee, who someone very close to me died protecting, and so I hope for his sake that she's something special."
Laura knew she had him with that point. She could see it in the shadow of his eyes. A confusion that bordered on youth. But he blinked, and turned back to her, and said, "I thought there were no symbols in this room, Laura."
And he had her with that point, and when he bent back down to kiss her, she didn't try to stop him.
***
Laura took great care in rebuttoning her shirt and straightening her hair with one of Lee's military issue combs. Lee had pulled on his pants and buckled his belt, but had left his hair a tousled mess. His dogtags were resting on his chest and Laura remembered how cool they'd been when they were pressed to her chest too. He was staring at her, and she was enjoying it too much to hurry. Though she ought to.
"I have to go," she said, sliding on her second shoe. "My shuttle's due to leave and they'll send out a search."
Lee nodded. "Shall I escort you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "In your current dress, Commander? No thank you."
He smiled. She stood, and lifted her arm as if she were going to touch his chest, but stopped several inches away, palm outward.
"It would be for the best if we didn't mention this," she said, closing her hand into a loose fist and returning it to her side.
"I know."
She turned, and walked towards the door. Her hand on the handle, she turned back. "I can count on you, Lee, can't I? I need this ship to return in one piece, and I need that Basestar destroyed."
Lee saluted, smartly. The faintest hint of irony in his voice sounded friendly, teasing, not cruel. "You can count on me, Ma'am."
"Thank you," she said, and left.
With, Lee reflected, absolutely everything she came in for.
***
Authourial rambling ahoy...
This took me about twice as long as I'd planned; not because it was especially tricky but because it turned out twice as long as I'd planned. They just wouldn't stop talking! I swear; not my fault!
But I did have fun writing it. I think in many ways it was a lot easier than some of the other pieces as I was working with characters I already knew and a dynamic I'd thought about a lot. I'm most comfortable fitting in character beats, writing emotionally eventful but physically uneventful (haha, yes, I walked into that one; but you know what I mean!) scenes.
That said, 1) asta77 you had to go and throw me a challenge to write them WHILE THEY'RE NOT REALLY TALKING TO EACH OTHER, didn't you? ;) and 2) I did try to make this something more than simply a shipper fill-in. To perhaps put a different spin on how Lee was acting in the last few scenes. And not to ignore how the characters were being characterised at the time (which is to say, by writers who don't see the L/L ship I don't think).
Also, yes, I cut-scened the sex. You didn't specifically ask for it, so my naturally squeamish personality went for the lights-down approach. Then again, I also think that there's some support for that approach in the way I was writing it. Trying to get away from the emo-angsty-1st-person extravaganza that's been my last two pieces. Trying to go for a more reserved and professional use of language because that's probably more Lee Adama and Laura Roslin than my more recent aggressive narrator attacks.
For a long time I was wondering if I should go with the sex at all and just cut it at the kiss. It felt like I had to choose between saying, "This really might have happened," and "Okay, this is a little cracktastic even if I think it's believable."
Ultimately I decided that dammit, if I was going to finally write a romantic story about those two crazy kids, I should just get on with it and make no apologies and I'm glad I did. Mainly because if I hadn't I wouldn't have been able to address the Dualla issue - however briefly - and I kind of like that bit. And also because I think the ending, with Laura leaving having achieved her goals, would have rung hollow had she warned Lee off.
And so...yeah. I think that's all the notes I have on this one. Hope you enjoyed!
Next up, some STAR WARS for were_lemur! I'll be as quick as I can but this one took quite a while so I'm a bit behind on my schedule. Plus your prompt is a headscratcher! But I'm still aiming to have it up for tomorrow. Oh, also, if you see this, your LJ profile and icons suggest you're pretty well aware of the Star Wars Expanded Universe; so if you don't want your fic making use of my vast interest in that, please let me know now while I'm still in the planning stages! :D
Finally HAPPY GREGORIAN NEW YEAR! May you all have a wonderfully Gregorian 2008! :)
ETA: it's been a long time since I did this - disclaimer; I don't own these characters or this setting and I'm not making any money!
How to leave with everything you came for.
"Madam President," Lee nodded, formally, as she entered his quarters, then turned to the junior officer escorting her. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."
The young girl snapped a salute, and the door shut, heavily, behind her.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
There was something less than sincere in his voice, and Laura moved her head fractionally to take in the room. There were chairs, at least, but the place was still uncomfortably new; a sleekness that was nearly alien - cylon - and Laura found it difficult to forget its history.
"I came to wish you luck, Commander. I saw Major Shaw leaving," she nodded at his tactical table. "I assume you were finalising the details of the assault."
"If you're asking me if I fired her, the answer's no."
"I was not."
Lee had a glass of water, pinioned between a model of the Pegasus and the Cylon Basestar. He lifted it from the tactical table's backlit surface and took a sip. Her comfort with silence outstripped his. Always had, though once that had been a reassuring thought. When her attention felt less like a sniper's lasersight and more like affection; as though she cared enough to stay quiet until he was ready to talk, instead of telling him what he wanted to say.
"She offered me her resignation. I declined."
Laura nodded. An easy gesture though, Lee was certain, entirely calculated. He changed the subject.
"I was under the impression my father would be my only house-guest on this trip, Madam President. Will you also be joining us? I can vacate my quarters. That does seem to have become standing protocol for Presidential visits."
He was being snide, and hated himself for it. But she was playing him like a lyre and he felt he should at least try to affect the tune.
"No," the President said. "I'll admit I'm curious, but the fleet has little to gain from putting its military and civilian heads in danger at the same time."
"We're all constantly in danger," Lee said, almost wistfully.
"We are."
This time, Lee found he was too tired to resent the settling silence, and broke it more easily for that.
"Can I offer you a drink?" he asked
"Yes," she said. "Thank you."
He gestured to one of the couches either side of a glass-topped coffee table, and she took a seat while he pulled a flask of Ambrosia - bright, mouth-wash green - from a cabinet along with two glasses. He sat opposite and poured two drinks.
Laura took the glass but didn't raise it to her lips. Her eyes travelled the room. "Even if I were staying," she said. "I don't think I could stay here. Doesn't its history disturb you?"
"Yes," Lee admitted. "But moving elsewhere would make me look weak. Worse it would look like I was rejecting Cain's legacy entirely. Major Shaw was uncomfortable enough with new furniture," he offered a tight smile and a shrug.
Laura did not reciprocate; she remained entirely still. "Aren't you?" she said.
"Rejecting Cain's legacy? Yes," he paused. "No," he added. "I disagree with her methods," he finally said. "But she kept this crew alive."
The look she gave him was conspiratorial. That sideways narrowing of the eyes as if they were sharing a private joke, and one not entirely suited to polite company. "And are you going to give me your father's spiel now? That we can't judge her actions until we're in her situation? That her decisions were tactically sound?"
Lee narrowed his own eyes in return. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny. The truth was that he did not agree with his father. The military code of conduct was explicit in its mandate to serve as a defensive force for the civilian population above all else. Cain's orders might have been understandable, but so were crimes of passion. It didn't make them any more legal. It didn't make them any more right. In truth, he hated having to act as if there was a single thing about Cain he respected. Because if situations were allowed to compromise principles, at the whim of a single being, then principles were fantasies. Then the entire fleet was built on a fantasy and it would be as sturdy as sand when the next tide came in.
But these days, Laura was the last person he would choose to discuss this. In truth, he wasn't sure there was anyone left alive he could choose. And he felt his jaw clench in anger at the thought of her casual, friendly entreaty to discredit his father's opinion.
"Why are you here?" he bit out.
She straightened, and he was surprised to see a flicker of sorrow cross her face before she composed herself. He had hurt her. He had forgotten that he could.
"I came address the troops before the mission launch. It seemed appropriate to wish you luck personally."
"Really," he said, more quietly. "Why are you here?"
"Your father has a very personal stake in this mission," she said.
Lee nodded.
"I know I can rely on you to keep the best interests of the fleet at heart."
Softly, Lee chuckled. He knocked back the remains of his Ambrosia and shook his head.
"Sure," he said, gazing beyond her, to a watercolour replica of Picon in Spring, hanging on the wall. Impressionistic and blurred. "Sure, you can count on me. Madam President."
"I've upset you."
"I'm fine."
"Lee..."
His name, whispered, from her lips to his ear; it was too intimate. Too close. He spun at her. "You appeal to my honour; my morals," he said. He was boiling, but his words came out constricted and tightly controlled. "Every time it's convenient. And if this were a mission where you were asking me to do something distasteful, would you reverse the situation? Would you be drinking with my father, inviting him to dismiss my opinions on what's necessary and what isn't, and asking him to make sure, when the time came, that he completed his mission?"
"Commander..."
Lee was not to be interrupted. He slammed his tumbler down on the table so hard the glass surface rattled as his voice rose in pitch and force. "But when I don't do what you expect, you don't like it. When I make the call about how much moral ambiguity we can take before we break apart. You don't like it."
"I remind you, Commander," Laura said, her tone only a handful of decibels above her normal range, but as cold and hard as the spaceward side of Pegasus' hull. He had no illusions she was anything other than enraged. "That there is a great difference between accepting the practical necessity of allowing prisoners convicted of past crimes to reintegrate into society and encouraging perpetrators of current crimes to continue at the expense of our population's wellbeing."
"I wasn't talking about the black market," Lee hissed.
Carefully, Laura put her untouched drink down on the table across from his empty glass. Her eyes were a warning. And a challenge. In the fluorescent light, they were unnaturally blue. Two boiling blue-giant stars headed for supernova, but right now, content to hang in the cold, empty vastness of the space between them. Seething.
"You had my father try to assassinate Cain."
"I did."
There, he'd said it and she hadn't denied it and nothing was fixed. Her acceptance was maddening. Her silence was maddening. He balled is fist and took a deep breath and prepared himself to, yet again, break the silence she had poured into the room.
But there was no need. This time, she spoke first.
"Commander," she said. "Would you rather I had left her in charge?"
"No," he ground the word between his teeth.
"Do you think she would have come quietly, or at all, had I ordered her to stand down?"
"No."
"Then what, in the gods' names, do you think I should have done?"
"You should have told me!" the words tore out of him before he could check himself. And once he had said them, he found it hard to stop. "You should have told me, and instead you told him You trusted him. You never even gave me a chance."
She was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and what he hoped was sadness and feared was pity. She stood, raised one hand to her mouth, and rested the other on her hip as she started pacing.
"He was second in rank to Cain," she said. "I needed his approval, not yours."
Even to Laura's ears, the words sounded weaker than they should have, and not simply because she kept her hand near her mouth, fingers resting on her upper lip; a nervous and embarrassing habit.
"I was the one you confided in about your cancer," Lee said, quietly, angrily, quickly, rising to his feet. "I was the one who believed in you and committed mutiny for you. For you. Because I believed in you. When my father wished you'd sign off on a military dictatorship and begrudged you every minute on his ship, I believed in you. And in what I thought you stood for."
"I'm tired of being a symbol, Captain Apollo," she whispered.
"No, you're just tired," Lee sneered. "Now that my father's decided you're 'one of the gang', it's easier to confide in him than me. He's a more convenient ally. Because you've got his loyalty now, and that means, just like Kara, he'll let this whole frakking fleet burn before he denies you anything."
"I'm not here to let you vent your issues with your father, Lee," she snapped.
"No, you're here to exploit them and make sure I disobey him if another one of his personal loyalties eclipses his loyalty to you."
"That's not fair."
"You ditched me!" he roared.
"Are you twelve?" she yelled back.
She had stopped walking the length of the couch and was staring at him with a force that - had he been twelve - would certainly have caused him to fall into his seat. When he didn't, she had a brief, embarrassing moment where she hoped he would step towards her.
Instead he said, "No, I'm not twelve. But I'm a person godsdammit and you just walked away."
It went to her heart. She had nothing to say that was not petty, but found herself saying it anyway.
"I'm sorry your personal issues mean you're having difficulty adjusting to the fact that my relationship with the Admiral improved, but there's no need to see it as a betrayal."
"Yes. Your relationship looks very cosy."
"Commander, if you were standing any closer, I would slap you."
"Go ahead. Take your best shot."
She didn't move. Or speak.
"He's falling in love with you," Lee said, bluntly.
"Commander, this discussion is leading to a very bad place."
"Probably," he bent over, picked up the bottle of Ambrosia, and took a drink straight from the neck.
"I'd appreciate an apology for your innuendo."
"I'd appreciate an apology for your abandonment," he retorted.
To his utter astonishment, she said, "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"Now it's your turn."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not sorry. About what I said."
"Captain Apollo, I already told you I wasn't here to listen to you vent your paternal issues; I'm even less interested in entangling myself in your Oedipal ones."
She could tell she'd shocked him. Truthfully she'd shocked herself, but being here; this conversation, was wearing her thinner than it ought to. Challenging decisions she spent enough time defending from herself and had little energy to defend from others.
"That's a low blow," Lee said.
"It's accurate. You resent my relationship with your father, and from the way you're talking, you'd like very much to knock him down a peg or two. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm sure you don't want to kill him."
"You're not my mother," Lee said.
"Obviously, but apparently I'm a woman you perceive as somehow attached to your father."
"You know why else it doesn't work?"
Laura crossed her arms. "Tell me."
"Because," Lee said, with a viciousness Laura was certain came from a desire to throw something as bitter in her face as she'd thrown in his. A dangerous desire that could make people say things that couldn't be taken back. But it was too late to stop it now, and she was to blame. She was the one who'd insulted him because she'd been afraid of the discussion and where it might end. There was that part of her that feared Lee was right, that she was encouraging the crush she knew Adama harboured, hoping to make use of that dangerous, illogical loyalty that benefited Colonel Tigh and Kara Thrace and even Lee himself though the man rarely realised it. "Because," Lee continued. "Oedipus killed his father and stole his father's wife. The woman didn't leave Oedipus. I had you first."
Laura did not know what to say. For the first time since entering the room, her silence was not intentional. And her heart skipped two beats because she had absolutely no idea what Lee Adama was going to do next.
Lee Adama stepped around the table, trapping Laura with the backs of her knees against the couch, his face barely six inches from hers.
Emphasising with his finger, jabbing at the air, he said, "I had you first."
The beats her heart had skipped fell back into her chest double-time. If she lifted her hands and pushed against his shoulders, she knew he would back away; she could leave and they would both be grateful in the long-term. She dropped her eyes, hoping it would break the moment, but he stayed exactly where he was.
"And what did you do, when you had me, Captain Apollo?" she whispered. "I told you, I'm too tired and too old to be anyone's symbol."
She wasn't sure what she was expecting. A sarcastic remark, perhaps. Or an earnest rebuttal. Attacking her for making such a claim while she encouraged tales of her own holiness, or urging her to embrace her role as President, as prophet, as guide. She expected a tack that would, one way or another, champion a jealousy she was sure had more to do with his need to see her a certain way, than a desire for her himself.
Laura felt suddenly very old, very foolish, and very angry at her racing heart. She closed her eyes.
Lee leant forward and kissed her.
She was so surprised, she didn't stop him, and after a second, began to reciprocate. He reached a hand up to hold the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, while her right arm slid around his waist; her left arm lifted as if she meant going to grab his shoulder, but never made its target as they sank down onto the couch.
By the time she had gathered enough resolve to place her palms against his chest and push - resulting in an awkward position: Laura about to slide from the overly polished leather, Lee supporting himself in a press-up position with both hands against one of the arm-rests, one either side of her head - the front of her shirt was entirely unbuttoned, and she found herself wondering when, exactly, her hands had decided to attack the buckle on his belt.
"Commander," she said. "You don't want to be doing this."
Lee was trying to slow his mind, clear his thoughts, compose an adequate response, when he realised he didn't need to. So many times her simple responses left him talking himself in circles. All the time trying to be a good man, the right man, as if using enough words would make others see why he did what he did. So many explanations for such little understanding.
He looked at Laura, straight at her, and said. "Yes, I do."
"I'm twice as old as you."
"You're not twice as old as me."
"I'm a lot older than you."
"Yes."
"You have a very pretty girlfriend, Lee, who someone very close to me died protecting, and so I hope for his sake that she's something special."
Laura knew she had him with that point. She could see it in the shadow of his eyes. A confusion that bordered on youth. But he blinked, and turned back to her, and said, "I thought there were no symbols in this room, Laura."
And he had her with that point, and when he bent back down to kiss her, she didn't try to stop him.
***
Laura took great care in rebuttoning her shirt and straightening her hair with one of Lee's military issue combs. Lee had pulled on his pants and buckled his belt, but had left his hair a tousled mess. His dogtags were resting on his chest and Laura remembered how cool they'd been when they were pressed to her chest too. He was staring at her, and she was enjoying it too much to hurry. Though she ought to.
"I have to go," she said, sliding on her second shoe. "My shuttle's due to leave and they'll send out a search."
Lee nodded. "Shall I escort you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "In your current dress, Commander? No thank you."
He smiled. She stood, and lifted her arm as if she were going to touch his chest, but stopped several inches away, palm outward.
"It would be for the best if we didn't mention this," she said, closing her hand into a loose fist and returning it to her side.
"I know."
She turned, and walked towards the door. Her hand on the handle, she turned back. "I can count on you, Lee, can't I? I need this ship to return in one piece, and I need that Basestar destroyed."
Lee saluted, smartly. The faintest hint of irony in his voice sounded friendly, teasing, not cruel. "You can count on me, Ma'am."
"Thank you," she said, and left.
With, Lee reflected, absolutely everything she came in for.
***
Authourial rambling ahoy...
This took me about twice as long as I'd planned; not because it was especially tricky but because it turned out twice as long as I'd planned. They just wouldn't stop talking! I swear; not my fault!
But I did have fun writing it. I think in many ways it was a lot easier than some of the other pieces as I was working with characters I already knew and a dynamic I'd thought about a lot. I'm most comfortable fitting in character beats, writing emotionally eventful but physically uneventful (haha, yes, I walked into that one; but you know what I mean!) scenes.
That said, 1) asta77 you had to go and throw me a challenge to write them WHILE THEY'RE NOT REALLY TALKING TO EACH OTHER, didn't you? ;) and 2) I did try to make this something more than simply a shipper fill-in. To perhaps put a different spin on how Lee was acting in the last few scenes. And not to ignore how the characters were being characterised at the time (which is to say, by writers who don't see the L/L ship I don't think).
Also, yes, I cut-scened the sex. You didn't specifically ask for it, so my naturally squeamish personality went for the lights-down approach. Then again, I also think that there's some support for that approach in the way I was writing it. Trying to get away from the emo-angsty-1st-person extravaganza that's been my last two pieces. Trying to go for a more reserved and professional use of language because that's probably more Lee Adama and Laura Roslin than my more recent aggressive narrator attacks.
For a long time I was wondering if I should go with the sex at all and just cut it at the kiss. It felt like I had to choose between saying, "This really might have happened," and "Okay, this is a little cracktastic even if I think it's believable."
Ultimately I decided that dammit, if I was going to finally write a romantic story about those two crazy kids, I should just get on with it and make no apologies and I'm glad I did. Mainly because if I hadn't I wouldn't have been able to address the Dualla issue - however briefly - and I kind of like that bit. And also because I think the ending, with Laura leaving having achieved her goals, would have rung hollow had she warned Lee off.
And so...yeah. I think that's all the notes I have on this one. Hope you enjoyed!
Next up, some STAR WARS for were_lemur! I'll be as quick as I can but this one took quite a while so I'm a bit behind on my schedule. Plus your prompt is a headscratcher! But I'm still aiming to have it up for tomorrow. Oh, also, if you see this, your LJ profile and icons suggest you're pretty well aware of the Star Wars Expanded Universe; so if you don't want your fic making use of my vast interest in that, please let me know now while I'm still in the planning stages! :D
Finally HAPPY GREGORIAN NEW YEAR! May you all have a wonderfully Gregorian 2008! :)