FIC: The First Time
Rating: K
Word Count: 2,000
Characters: A/R
Category: Romance, Fluff, Humor
Setting: Some time after Crossroads II
A/N: Needed a break from the angst I’ve been writing, and thought I’d clean out my HD of some fics that have been sitting around half-done. This is so fluffy that it floats.
When Laura lay on Adama’s rack, she only meant to rest her eyes, as her grandmother used to say. She was taking him up on his standing offer, made while he focused on her left ear: You’re welcome to use my quarters any time. Lie down for a while after your treatments or between meetings. No need to go back to Colonial One. We’ll find you quarters here on Galactica, but my rack will do for now.
For the first three days, she’d just stopped in when she knew that he was on watch, and had stretched out on the couch, taking her shoes off, but not unbuttoning her blazer. Today she was more tired and weak than usual, so she was lured back further into his quarters to that shadowy shelf that he called a bed. She kicked off her pumps, shed her blazer, and slid under the blanket...
The rack didn’t seem as narrow as she remembered from the last time that Bill had insisted that she rest on it, and she wondered how easily two bodies could fit in it...
She must have been asleep, drifting in and out. She was aware of the hatch opening...he came to her, cupped her cheek gently--she managed a hum in response. He was out focus beyond her blurred vision; sitting at his desk, tipping the lampshade away from her, his head bowed over notes, the scratch of his pen--all the notes of a lullaby, the low tune of comfort.
The next note was the couch groaning, the sounds of his body settling on its cushions.
She dragged herself awake and rose onto an elbow, pushing her hair back. “Wha’ ya doin’?” she called to the outer room.
From the prone form: “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Her voice, petulant: “You’re not gonna sleep there.”
“I’m just resting my eyes,” Bill said, and she laughed, rolling onto her back.
“What?” he asked, keeping his voice low as though there were others to wake.
“Nothin’,” she said, still drugged with sleep. Then, “Come ‘ere.”
“Go back to sleep, Laura.”
She struggled from under the blanket; tried to find the floor with wavering legs. He was there, looming over the rack, his hands on her shoulders.
Her hair flowed back from her face, and she opened her eyes wide, pushing back against his grip.
“Laura--“
She switched up quickly. “Come to bed, Bill,” she said, scooting over.
He furrowed his brow and stayed still.
Exasperated, she flopped back on the pillows. “Stop acting like a virgin,” she chastised.
He swallowed, and unbuttoned the top button of his uniform jacket.
“Yeah, just like that,” she purred.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, saying, “Stop it, or I’ll go back to the couch,” as he unlaced his boots.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, pulling the blanket under her chin.
He stretched out, straight as at attention, staring up at the ceiling. “I forgot the light,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered in his ear.
“All right then,” he said.
She moved into him like a cat seeking warmth, with the same curious pawing at his chest until she settled a hand on his heart and her head under his chin.
“Sometimes I miss this,” she admitted.
“There hasn’t been any this since the groundbreaking,” he pointed out. “I’m sorry to say.”
“Missed chances,” she agreed. “But what I meant was, the simple pleasure in the different feel of a man’s body, his skin, his smell.” She burrowed her nose into his neck, her teeth lightly grazing at his throat’s pulse point.
He huffed, and said, “I apologize for this man’s smell.”
She giggled. “I said I enjoyed it.”
Being painfully precise, he elaborated, “It’s space funk.”
This stopped her explorations. “Excuse me?”
He went on with the technical explanation. “The temperature is carefully controlled on the battlestar, but the human body still has to expel moisture. You’d be amazed at the gallons of water we pull out of the air filters.”
“Just don’t tell me it’s recycled for our use.” She undid a few more buttons so that she could slide her hand inside his shirt, and tuck it into his armpit proper.
He droned on. “Moisture distills on the skin surface, taking on its own unique odor.”
“Uh, huh.” Her nose found the backside of his ear, her teeth his earlobe.
“I’ve had many planetary women comment on the distinct odor of space-going men.”
She stilled her exploration and spoke directly into his ear. “First, I have to know if that pickup line worked for you in the past--I’m just curious about my fellow women’s intelligence levels. And second, I hadn’t really noticed. I don’t go around sniffing the other men in the fleet. Take your XO, for example; I don’t need to sniff him. I know exactly what he would smell like.” She shuttered delicately. “So allow me delude myself that you’re unique.”
“Okay.” He insisted, “You should go back to sleep.”
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
“And you need your sleep,” she said, tugging the blanket from under her to share.
He sighed out a reply, “Oh, no, that’s all right. I’ll just lie here.”
“That’s how I started out,” she said. “I just thought I’d lie down for a few moments and get my strength back before going back to my ship.”
“Do you have your strength back?”
“Yes,” she said.
He started to rise. She held him down with one thin arm, ordering him, “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Aren’t you leaving?”
“I’m warm, I’m comfortable, I’ve got a man to lean on,” she said firmly. “No.” She smoothed his hair. “Why are you so tense?”
“That’s a ridiculous question.”
“I really hate when you avoid answering questions.”
“I’m not avoiding your question,” he said, irritated. “I would think the reason is obvious; I’m in bed with a woman who physically attracts me immensely.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Is that all?”
“Don’t be coy, Laura Roslin,” he said, still pissy. “You are the one for me--it’s the simple.”
“Thank you,” she said, but he pushed on. “And it’s been a long time. A really long time.”
“I’m on the same countdown clock that you are, Bill.” She cleared her throat to change the subject but didn’t for some reason. “And you’re the one for me too. Just in case you weren’t sure.” She went still, off in her own thoughts.
She’d never verbalized that concept before and had to mull it over. If they had met on Caprica, she wouldn’t have looked twice at him--all she would have seen was a uniform and a brooding countenance. If they’d been forced into interaction, she may have come to respect his intelligence and inner warmth after years. But this unexpected connection and its resulting emotion--of comfort, belonging, a need--was both welcome, like the rush of falling into bed when exhausted, and terrifying, like fear of the dark.
She had no problem having sex with a man who attracted her, but they were always carefully selected to be men who had no interest in ties. Although he’d never said anything implicit, she knew that William Adama would bind her tightly.
Adama started to ease off the bed. “Where’re you going?” she said, grabbing his sleeve.
He looked back down at her, his eyes warm. “I thought that you’d gone to sleep.”
“Then why were you leaving?” she said, shocked at the tears in her voice.
“I told you--“
She swooped up, finding his mouth by pure accident, wrapping her arms around his neck before she lost her balance. He caught her, crushing her to him. They kissed madly, holding onto each other’s face, suddenly desperate as though that countdown clock had gone to the seconds.
They fell back onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs. Laura gasped for breath, and couldn’t find it. The room went black, then bright white and her limbs shuttered with cold.
Bill yanked the blanket free to swaddle her. “See, you’re not in any shape to do this,” he said, gently accusing, even as he chaffed her icy hands.
She cursed her quaking limbs. “I’ll be fine,” she chattered. “Just give me a moment.”
“No,” he said firmly. “As soon as you’ve warmed up, I’m back on the couch.”
She choked back tears. “Please don’t. I just...”
He gave her time to catch her breath, pulling her onto his lap so that she was surrounded by his warmth.
“I just want to sleep with you.”
He chuckled. “I want to sleep with you too, but--“
“No, I mean, just sleep, if that’s all I can do,” she said, irritated with herself. “I want to find you beside me in the morning. I want to see just how curly your hair really is when it’s got pillow head. I want--“ she choked up again.
“Yes. All right,” he said slowly. He tipped her chin back. “Are you warmed up?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” he said, lying her back down and rising from the rack. “Stay right there.”
Rubbing her arms vigorously, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He was back quickly with a small pile of clothing. He turned off the light on the way. In the shadows, he gently pulled the blanket back. “Sit up,” he asked.
She wordlessly complied. He slowly unbuttoned her blouse, his gaze focused on her collarbone. She pulled it free from her skirt for him and he nodded thanks. He laid the garment aside, and she unsnapped her bra. He received in on one finger as if it would burn. He pushed out a deep breath, and turned back with a cotton tee shirt that he pulled over her head. She raised her arms for the sleeves. “Good,” he muttered, as though he’d passed some test.
Then he saw the bruises and bandages on the crooks of her arms and he had to stop. Pulling her arms to him, he kissed each one carefully.
“It’s all right,” she choked out, dropping her arms out of his touch.
He stepped back, saying, “Okay,” as though he could convince himself everything was fine with one word.
Regrouping, he motioning towards her legs. She lay back, lifting her hips for him to slip her skirt off. He folded it in half, laying it over the chair back with her blouse. He paused to consider her for a moment. “It’s all right,” she repeated. He squared his shoulders, and bent to slide her hose down.
She smiled as he slipped only his fingertips under the waistband, managing to get past her hips and keep her panties on without touching her. But he had to trace her thighs with his wide hands, cupping each foot for a moment before tossing the hose aside, giving a great huff of breath as another test was passed. “That was a close one,” she teased.
“Don’t get saucy,” he said, offered her a pair of his boxers. She slid them on, now surrounded by his scent, the sensuous touch of his worn, loose undergarments.
He stepped back and finished unbuttoning his tunic, laying it atop her clothing. Next came his pants. She held the blanket open for him and he slid under. Their arms went around each other’s waists, and they settled face to face.
“That’s better,” she said, wedging her ice cold feet between his ankles.
He winced, but agreed, “More comfortable.” He ordered, “Now sleep,” as he pulled her head back under his chin. “Sleep, my love.”
She gulped at the word, but found her voice. “Yes, sleep. Our first time.”
The end.
Word Count: 2,000
Characters: A/R
Category: Romance, Fluff, Humor
Setting: Some time after Crossroads II
A/N: Needed a break from the angst I’ve been writing, and thought I’d clean out my HD of some fics that have been sitting around half-done. This is so fluffy that it floats.
When Laura lay on Adama’s rack, she only meant to rest her eyes, as her grandmother used to say. She was taking him up on his standing offer, made while he focused on her left ear: You’re welcome to use my quarters any time. Lie down for a while after your treatments or between meetings. No need to go back to Colonial One. We’ll find you quarters here on Galactica, but my rack will do for now.
For the first three days, she’d just stopped in when she knew that he was on watch, and had stretched out on the couch, taking her shoes off, but not unbuttoning her blazer. Today she was more tired and weak than usual, so she was lured back further into his quarters to that shadowy shelf that he called a bed. She kicked off her pumps, shed her blazer, and slid under the blanket...
The rack didn’t seem as narrow as she remembered from the last time that Bill had insisted that she rest on it, and she wondered how easily two bodies could fit in it...
She must have been asleep, drifting in and out. She was aware of the hatch opening...he came to her, cupped her cheek gently--she managed a hum in response. He was out focus beyond her blurred vision; sitting at his desk, tipping the lampshade away from her, his head bowed over notes, the scratch of his pen--all the notes of a lullaby, the low tune of comfort.
The next note was the couch groaning, the sounds of his body settling on its cushions.
She dragged herself awake and rose onto an elbow, pushing her hair back. “Wha’ ya doin’?” she called to the outer room.
From the prone form: “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Her voice, petulant: “You’re not gonna sleep there.”
“I’m just resting my eyes,” Bill said, and she laughed, rolling onto her back.
“What?” he asked, keeping his voice low as though there were others to wake.
“Nothin’,” she said, still drugged with sleep. Then, “Come ‘ere.”
“Go back to sleep, Laura.”
She struggled from under the blanket; tried to find the floor with wavering legs. He was there, looming over the rack, his hands on her shoulders.
Her hair flowed back from her face, and she opened her eyes wide, pushing back against his grip.
“Laura--“
She switched up quickly. “Come to bed, Bill,” she said, scooting over.
He furrowed his brow and stayed still.
Exasperated, she flopped back on the pillows. “Stop acting like a virgin,” she chastised.
He swallowed, and unbuttoned the top button of his uniform jacket.
“Yeah, just like that,” she purred.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, saying, “Stop it, or I’ll go back to the couch,” as he unlaced his boots.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, pulling the blanket under her chin.
He stretched out, straight as at attention, staring up at the ceiling. “I forgot the light,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered in his ear.
“All right then,” he said.
She moved into him like a cat seeking warmth, with the same curious pawing at his chest until she settled a hand on his heart and her head under his chin.
“Sometimes I miss this,” she admitted.
“There hasn’t been any this since the groundbreaking,” he pointed out. “I’m sorry to say.”
“Missed chances,” she agreed. “But what I meant was, the simple pleasure in the different feel of a man’s body, his skin, his smell.” She burrowed her nose into his neck, her teeth lightly grazing at his throat’s pulse point.
He huffed, and said, “I apologize for this man’s smell.”
She giggled. “I said I enjoyed it.”
Being painfully precise, he elaborated, “It’s space funk.”
This stopped her explorations. “Excuse me?”
He went on with the technical explanation. “The temperature is carefully controlled on the battlestar, but the human body still has to expel moisture. You’d be amazed at the gallons of water we pull out of the air filters.”
“Just don’t tell me it’s recycled for our use.” She undid a few more buttons so that she could slide her hand inside his shirt, and tuck it into his armpit proper.
He droned on. “Moisture distills on the skin surface, taking on its own unique odor.”
“Uh, huh.” Her nose found the backside of his ear, her teeth his earlobe.
“I’ve had many planetary women comment on the distinct odor of space-going men.”
She stilled her exploration and spoke directly into his ear. “First, I have to know if that pickup line worked for you in the past--I’m just curious about my fellow women’s intelligence levels. And second, I hadn’t really noticed. I don’t go around sniffing the other men in the fleet. Take your XO, for example; I don’t need to sniff him. I know exactly what he would smell like.” She shuttered delicately. “So allow me delude myself that you’re unique.”
“Okay.” He insisted, “You should go back to sleep.”
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
“And you need your sleep,” she said, tugging the blanket from under her to share.
He sighed out a reply, “Oh, no, that’s all right. I’ll just lie here.”
“That’s how I started out,” she said. “I just thought I’d lie down for a few moments and get my strength back before going back to my ship.”
“Do you have your strength back?”
“Yes,” she said.
He started to rise. She held him down with one thin arm, ordering him, “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Aren’t you leaving?”
“I’m warm, I’m comfortable, I’ve got a man to lean on,” she said firmly. “No.” She smoothed his hair. “Why are you so tense?”
“That’s a ridiculous question.”
“I really hate when you avoid answering questions.”
“I’m not avoiding your question,” he said, irritated. “I would think the reason is obvious; I’m in bed with a woman who physically attracts me immensely.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Is that all?”
“Don’t be coy, Laura Roslin,” he said, still pissy. “You are the one for me--it’s the simple.”
“Thank you,” she said, but he pushed on. “And it’s been a long time. A really long time.”
“I’m on the same countdown clock that you are, Bill.” She cleared her throat to change the subject but didn’t for some reason. “And you’re the one for me too. Just in case you weren’t sure.” She went still, off in her own thoughts.
She’d never verbalized that concept before and had to mull it over. If they had met on Caprica, she wouldn’t have looked twice at him--all she would have seen was a uniform and a brooding countenance. If they’d been forced into interaction, she may have come to respect his intelligence and inner warmth after years. But this unexpected connection and its resulting emotion--of comfort, belonging, a need--was both welcome, like the rush of falling into bed when exhausted, and terrifying, like fear of the dark.
She had no problem having sex with a man who attracted her, but they were always carefully selected to be men who had no interest in ties. Although he’d never said anything implicit, she knew that William Adama would bind her tightly.
Adama started to ease off the bed. “Where’re you going?” she said, grabbing his sleeve.
He looked back down at her, his eyes warm. “I thought that you’d gone to sleep.”
“Then why were you leaving?” she said, shocked at the tears in her voice.
“I told you--“
She swooped up, finding his mouth by pure accident, wrapping her arms around his neck before she lost her balance. He caught her, crushing her to him. They kissed madly, holding onto each other’s face, suddenly desperate as though that countdown clock had gone to the seconds.
They fell back onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs. Laura gasped for breath, and couldn’t find it. The room went black, then bright white and her limbs shuttered with cold.
Bill yanked the blanket free to swaddle her. “See, you’re not in any shape to do this,” he said, gently accusing, even as he chaffed her icy hands.
She cursed her quaking limbs. “I’ll be fine,” she chattered. “Just give me a moment.”
“No,” he said firmly. “As soon as you’ve warmed up, I’m back on the couch.”
She choked back tears. “Please don’t. I just...”
He gave her time to catch her breath, pulling her onto his lap so that she was surrounded by his warmth.
“I just want to sleep with you.”
He chuckled. “I want to sleep with you too, but--“
“No, I mean, just sleep, if that’s all I can do,” she said, irritated with herself. “I want to find you beside me in the morning. I want to see just how curly your hair really is when it’s got pillow head. I want--“ she choked up again.
“Yes. All right,” he said slowly. He tipped her chin back. “Are you warmed up?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” he said, lying her back down and rising from the rack. “Stay right there.”
Rubbing her arms vigorously, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He was back quickly with a small pile of clothing. He turned off the light on the way. In the shadows, he gently pulled the blanket back. “Sit up,” he asked.
She wordlessly complied. He slowly unbuttoned her blouse, his gaze focused on her collarbone. She pulled it free from her skirt for him and he nodded thanks. He laid the garment aside, and she unsnapped her bra. He received in on one finger as if it would burn. He pushed out a deep breath, and turned back with a cotton tee shirt that he pulled over her head. She raised her arms for the sleeves. “Good,” he muttered, as though he’d passed some test.
Then he saw the bruises and bandages on the crooks of her arms and he had to stop. Pulling her arms to him, he kissed each one carefully.
“It’s all right,” she choked out, dropping her arms out of his touch.
He stepped back, saying, “Okay,” as though he could convince himself everything was fine with one word.
Regrouping, he motioning towards her legs. She lay back, lifting her hips for him to slip her skirt off. He folded it in half, laying it over the chair back with her blouse. He paused to consider her for a moment. “It’s all right,” she repeated. He squared his shoulders, and bent to slide her hose down.
She smiled as he slipped only his fingertips under the waistband, managing to get past her hips and keep her panties on without touching her. But he had to trace her thighs with his wide hands, cupping each foot for a moment before tossing the hose aside, giving a great huff of breath as another test was passed. “That was a close one,” she teased.
“Don’t get saucy,” he said, offered her a pair of his boxers. She slid them on, now surrounded by his scent, the sensuous touch of his worn, loose undergarments.
He stepped back and finished unbuttoning his tunic, laying it atop her clothing. Next came his pants. She held the blanket open for him and he slid under. Their arms went around each other’s waists, and they settled face to face.
“That’s better,” she said, wedging her ice cold feet between his ankles.
He winced, but agreed, “More comfortable.” He ordered, “Now sleep,” as he pulled her head back under his chin. “Sleep, my love.”
She gulped at the word, but found her voice. “Yes, sleep. Our first time.”
The end.