FIC: The Next Dance (8/14)
The dawn crept into the tent, finding their bodies twisted together uncomfortably on her cot. It had squealed all night long as they tried to turn, unaccustomed to company.
Once Bill had moaned, after taking a sharp elbow to the throat, “I’ll get on the floor,” but she’d grouched back, “Dammit, just move your arm and we’ll be fine.”
The light was weak and watery gray, but he squinted as though his eyes were being seared.
“Morning,” Laura groaned.
He buried his face in the pillow. “Toothbrush. Water.”
She stumbled up, somehow getting loose of the blanket. “Back in a minute.”
Selfish, she took care of her own business first at her street’s latrine, then fetched a bucket of fresh water.
He was standing when she got back, and it seemed to have been a great accomplishment. His loose boxers sagged to his knobby knees and when he pushed up his tanks to scratch his belly, the tip of his mean red scar stood out like a baby’s protruding tongue. He helplessly patted at his thatch of hair, glancing around her tent, taking it in at last.
Must be love, Laura thought to herself with a shrug.
“You’ve fixed this up nice.” He winced at the sight of the fresh cut wildflowers in a vase, candles waiting to be lit, even a bottle of ambrosia.
“Thank you. I try,” she said, making aimless small talk because she didn’t know what else to say. “Which shuttle are you taking back?”
“Afternoon,” he said, yawning hugely.
Things were looking up. She scrounged out her toothbrush. “I don’t have another. I could go ask Tory--“
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” he said.
She grinned, then realized she really did need to brush. Magnanimously, she said, “You first.”
He squirted the toothpaste on the brush, said, “We’ll take turns,” and gave his teeth a vigorous swipe. “Ah, so much better.” He passed it over, and she smiled again before going a round of her mouth.
“You’re right,” she said, slurping up the mint-flavored foam. “I’m so glad I saved that last real tube of toothpaste for a special occasion.”
He laughed, pulling her close with one hand, as they passed the toothbrush back and forth. Then it was easy enough to simply begin kissing, wallowing in the freshly cleaned mouths, bubbles frothing down their lips and chins. The foam caught on his mustache and he left traces of it down her neck.
Happy, she remembered that she’d always loved sex in the morning. His mid-staff erection pressed against her hip, and now she was delirious. She may be on the other side of middle-age, and he a lap ahead of her, but neither of them were anywhere near dead, it appeared, thank the Gods--
“Ma’am?” came a thin, worried voice from outside the tent flap. “Are you in there?”
Laura gasped for breath. “Tory? What the hell do you want?” Politeness was long gone, particularly when Adama simply saw the interruption as a reason to increase his vigorous assault on her bared throat, leaving a stubble-burn trail as his big hands moved under her robe, finding her breasts.
“Do you know where Admiral Adama is?”
He stopped, and they stared at each other, dismayed.
“Why?” Laura called back.
“Uh, I have a message for him,” her assistant continued maddeningly.
“What is it, Tory?” Laura said, covering his mouth with her hand.
“They sent a message from the shuttle station. The afternoon shuttle has been cancelled. The only one until this evening leaves in ten minutes.”
Bill dropped his head, resting it against her collarbone.
Tonelessly, Laura called out, “Thank you, Tory. I’ll pass that on when I see him.”
“Frak Baltar all to hell,” Bill grumbled.
“You think it’s Baltar?” she asked.
“It’s sure not Saul. He knows I’d hunt him down and kick his ass, no matter how drunk he was,” said Bill, snatching up his clothes. “No, it’s Baltar. Showing us who’s boss on this dump.”
She watched him dress, depressed. He glanced up and yanked her close for a kiss, muttering right before contact, “Don’t frown, my lady.”
Unable to help herself, she gave his groin a squeeze. “I just hate to see a perfectly good erection go to waste.”
Bill roared with laughter, although he carefully pulled her hand free. “There’ll be time. Another time.”
Tigh sang, off-tune and quavering, just loud enough for her to hear, “Little red bird, fly to me, so that we can be, in love, always in love...”
Laura was glad that they were in a crowd, even as his hands trembled in her hand and on her back.
“You are a lovely thing, I must say.” His eyes were intense, looking down at her.
“I cannot say the same of you, Colonel,” she said quietly.
He shrugged. “Ah well, lovely’s not my thing. Bill’s the collector of pretty statues.” He used a nagging tone to say, “Du’not pick that up, Saul. You’ll break her.” He looked down at her again. “I say, don’t keep things around that you can’t touch.”
“I’m sorry, Saul,” was all she could think to say. “As empty as that is.”
“You mean it though,” he said eagerly. “You understand?”
“I--“ She suddenly felt the prick of tears. “I can’t say I understand. I can’t understand half the horrible choices we have had to make. All I know is, they earn us another tomorrow.”
“Gawds, you’re a thinker too,” he said. “Bill lucked the hell out, getting you for a President. And a President with really great gams. That bastard has always had the luck.”
She suddenly had the image of William Adama dealing with Richard Adar in his tighty-whitey underwear that showed off his long, lean legs, and burst out laughing.
Saul didn’t realize what had made her laugh, but his hot eye devoured her rippling hair, the light in her eyes, the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest.
Sobering under that disturbing gaze, she said, “You haven’t talked to Bill--“
“And women all want to talk.”
“He’s asked...about Ellen.” She reassured Saul, “I haven’t told him anything--“
“Don’t fret, woman,” he said. And added rather incongruously, “Madam President.” Noticing her little frown, he reassured her, “No worries. I tol’ Bill. He knows now.”
“I’m so glad,” said Laura.
Tigh rolled his eye. “Ah, see, all is right in the universe because two fellas drank some hooch and talked about having to kill your wife.”
The music ended, and he kept dancing. “I’ll sit this one out,” Laura finally told him gently. He nodded and dropped his grip, walking away towards the drink table without a backward glance.
Next>>>
Once Bill had moaned, after taking a sharp elbow to the throat, “I’ll get on the floor,” but she’d grouched back, “Dammit, just move your arm and we’ll be fine.”
The light was weak and watery gray, but he squinted as though his eyes were being seared.
“Morning,” Laura groaned.
He buried his face in the pillow. “Toothbrush. Water.”
She stumbled up, somehow getting loose of the blanket. “Back in a minute.”
Selfish, she took care of her own business first at her street’s latrine, then fetched a bucket of fresh water.
He was standing when she got back, and it seemed to have been a great accomplishment. His loose boxers sagged to his knobby knees and when he pushed up his tanks to scratch his belly, the tip of his mean red scar stood out like a baby’s protruding tongue. He helplessly patted at his thatch of hair, glancing around her tent, taking it in at last.
Must be love, Laura thought to herself with a shrug.
“You’ve fixed this up nice.” He winced at the sight of the fresh cut wildflowers in a vase, candles waiting to be lit, even a bottle of ambrosia.
“Thank you. I try,” she said, making aimless small talk because she didn’t know what else to say. “Which shuttle are you taking back?”
“Afternoon,” he said, yawning hugely.
Things were looking up. She scrounged out her toothbrush. “I don’t have another. I could go ask Tory--“
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” he said.
She grinned, then realized she really did need to brush. Magnanimously, she said, “You first.”
He squirted the toothpaste on the brush, said, “We’ll take turns,” and gave his teeth a vigorous swipe. “Ah, so much better.” He passed it over, and she smiled again before going a round of her mouth.
“You’re right,” she said, slurping up the mint-flavored foam. “I’m so glad I saved that last real tube of toothpaste for a special occasion.”
He laughed, pulling her close with one hand, as they passed the toothbrush back and forth. Then it was easy enough to simply begin kissing, wallowing in the freshly cleaned mouths, bubbles frothing down their lips and chins. The foam caught on his mustache and he left traces of it down her neck.
Happy, she remembered that she’d always loved sex in the morning. His mid-staff erection pressed against her hip, and now she was delirious. She may be on the other side of middle-age, and he a lap ahead of her, but neither of them were anywhere near dead, it appeared, thank the Gods--
“Ma’am?” came a thin, worried voice from outside the tent flap. “Are you in there?”
Laura gasped for breath. “Tory? What the hell do you want?” Politeness was long gone, particularly when Adama simply saw the interruption as a reason to increase his vigorous assault on her bared throat, leaving a stubble-burn trail as his big hands moved under her robe, finding her breasts.
“Do you know where Admiral Adama is?”
He stopped, and they stared at each other, dismayed.
“Why?” Laura called back.
“Uh, I have a message for him,” her assistant continued maddeningly.
“What is it, Tory?” Laura said, covering his mouth with her hand.
“They sent a message from the shuttle station. The afternoon shuttle has been cancelled. The only one until this evening leaves in ten minutes.”
Bill dropped his head, resting it against her collarbone.
Tonelessly, Laura called out, “Thank you, Tory. I’ll pass that on when I see him.”
“Frak Baltar all to hell,” Bill grumbled.
“You think it’s Baltar?” she asked.
“It’s sure not Saul. He knows I’d hunt him down and kick his ass, no matter how drunk he was,” said Bill, snatching up his clothes. “No, it’s Baltar. Showing us who’s boss on this dump.”
She watched him dress, depressed. He glanced up and yanked her close for a kiss, muttering right before contact, “Don’t frown, my lady.”
Unable to help herself, she gave his groin a squeeze. “I just hate to see a perfectly good erection go to waste.”
Bill roared with laughter, although he carefully pulled her hand free. “There’ll be time. Another time.”
Tigh sang, off-tune and quavering, just loud enough for her to hear, “Little red bird, fly to me, so that we can be, in love, always in love...”
Laura was glad that they were in a crowd, even as his hands trembled in her hand and on her back.
“You are a lovely thing, I must say.” His eyes were intense, looking down at her.
“I cannot say the same of you, Colonel,” she said quietly.
He shrugged. “Ah well, lovely’s not my thing. Bill’s the collector of pretty statues.” He used a nagging tone to say, “Du’not pick that up, Saul. You’ll break her.” He looked down at her again. “I say, don’t keep things around that you can’t touch.”
“I’m sorry, Saul,” was all she could think to say. “As empty as that is.”
“You mean it though,” he said eagerly. “You understand?”
“I--“ She suddenly felt the prick of tears. “I can’t say I understand. I can’t understand half the horrible choices we have had to make. All I know is, they earn us another tomorrow.”
“Gawds, you’re a thinker too,” he said. “Bill lucked the hell out, getting you for a President. And a President with really great gams. That bastard has always had the luck.”
She suddenly had the image of William Adama dealing with Richard Adar in his tighty-whitey underwear that showed off his long, lean legs, and burst out laughing.
Saul didn’t realize what had made her laugh, but his hot eye devoured her rippling hair, the light in her eyes, the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest.
Sobering under that disturbing gaze, she said, “You haven’t talked to Bill--“
“And women all want to talk.”
“He’s asked...about Ellen.” She reassured Saul, “I haven’t told him anything--“
“Don’t fret, woman,” he said. And added rather incongruously, “Madam President.” Noticing her little frown, he reassured her, “No worries. I tol’ Bill. He knows now.”
“I’m so glad,” said Laura.
Tigh rolled his eye. “Ah, see, all is right in the universe because two fellas drank some hooch and talked about having to kill your wife.”
The music ended, and he kept dancing. “I’ll sit this one out,” Laura finally told him gently. He nodded and dropped his grip, walking away towards the drink table without a backward glance.
Next>>>