"Shared Regrets" - Adama/Roslin Fic
Title: Shared Regrets
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 804 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show
A/N: Thanks to rococoms for her prompt and beta. Set post-election in season two.
The knock at his hatch is familiar, as is the click, clack, click of heels on the deck platting that follows. The rhythm of her steps as they map out the territory of his home doesn’t hold the same confidence that it once did. The slump in her shoulders is not only visible, but Bill can almost taste the bitter, acidic regret that surrounds her.
“It’s done,” she says. Not a question, an affirmation.
“Yes,” he replies solemnly. Not an affirmation, a regret. One that they both share.
It’s then that he notices the two travel bags at her feet. “You got the memo I take it?”
“It seems that President Baltar was quite anxious to kick me off of my ship. Colonel Tigh was waiting for me on Colonial One, he mentioned something about quarters being made available to me on Galactica. He never mentioned that they came with a roommate.” She pins him with that signature glare of hers; a pointedly raised eyebrow over the frame of her glasses.
“Lucky you,” he deadpans. He thinks that he sees the barest flicker of amusement in her eyes before weariness takes over once more.
“I’m tired Bill,” she says quietly. Tired of politics, tired of fighting both a mourning civilization and their common enemy, tired of fighting with herself, tired most of all of fighting with him. “I’m so, so tired.”
“I cleared out a drawer for you. Also made some space in the closet,” he offers.
It doesn’t take long to unpack her belongings. He shows her the slivers of space that he has and she quietly fills them with her meager belongings. He leaves her to unpack her toiletries and go through the motions of her nightly rituals.
She emerges from the head, freshly showered and wearing a light blue nightgown with a matching robe. “So, which side of the bed do I get?” she asks.
Bill tries very hard not to choke on the gulp of water he’d just taken. “Any side you want. I’m taking the couch.” There is a note of finality in his tone which Laura blissfully disregards.
“I am not putting you out on the couch. Stop being childish, we’re grown adults. We can share a bed.” The fire in her eyes is back.
“Laura,” he pleads. He isn’t in the mood for this tonight. Not after today’s series of events. “I’m tired,” he says, echoing her earlier confession.
“We’re both tired and there is an empty bed. So let’s use it.”
“Rack,” he corrects her weakly, “we call it a rack. And it’s frakking narrow. We won’t both fit.”
“Call it whatever you want,” she snaps, “get under the covers. I’ve shared smaller beds before and I am sure that you have too.”
He hates her a little as he climbs begrudgingly into the rack because she’s got that politicians smirk back on her face. His body is pressed as far to the hull of the ship as possible, but his other side still brushes against her bare arm. Bare, thanks to the fact that she has discarded her robe. He swallows. Hard.
“Well, this is cozy,” she remarks. A beat passes and he can feel her body start to shake with the giggles. “Oh Gods Bill, this is all so frakking ridiculous!” He turns his head slightly and sees tears running in narrow streams down her face. Of all the fantasies that he had dreamed up involving Laura sharing his rack, none of them had included tears or giggles.
He turns slightly, and despite his earlier discomfort, gathers her in his arms. He places chaste kisses against the crown of her head as her giggles softly begin to dwindle. She snuggles deeper into his embrace and sighs contently.
“This is kind of cozy,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed this.”
Bill stiffens beside her. He’s torn between jealousy at the mere mention of previous lovers, but also sadness that she’d been denied this sort of intimacy lately. Laura seemed to sense where his mind was wandering.
“The simple act of being comforted,” she clarifies, “having a friend you can lean on…literally,” she giggles again softly.
“I’m always here Laura,” he says softly. “Even when-“
“I know.” She cuts him off because the events of this evening are still too raw. She doesn’t want to think about how she will eventually be forced to relocate on some barren planet. He rubs soothing circles against her shoulder and tries not to think about the softness of her skin, the intoxicating scent of her rationed shampoo, the warmth of her breaths against his chest.
“Maybe, we should enjoy this. While we can,” he says softly. Her eyelids are already fluttering; slumber is pulling at her exhausted limbs and weary mind.
“I am,” she murmurs.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 804 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show
A/N: Thanks to rococoms for her prompt and beta. Set post-election in season two.
The knock at his hatch is familiar, as is the click, clack, click of heels on the deck platting that follows. The rhythm of her steps as they map out the territory of his home doesn’t hold the same confidence that it once did. The slump in her shoulders is not only visible, but Bill can almost taste the bitter, acidic regret that surrounds her.
“It’s done,” she says. Not a question, an affirmation.
“Yes,” he replies solemnly. Not an affirmation, a regret. One that they both share.
It’s then that he notices the two travel bags at her feet. “You got the memo I take it?”
“It seems that President Baltar was quite anxious to kick me off of my ship. Colonel Tigh was waiting for me on Colonial One, he mentioned something about quarters being made available to me on Galactica. He never mentioned that they came with a roommate.” She pins him with that signature glare of hers; a pointedly raised eyebrow over the frame of her glasses.
“Lucky you,” he deadpans. He thinks that he sees the barest flicker of amusement in her eyes before weariness takes over once more.
“I’m tired Bill,” she says quietly. Tired of politics, tired of fighting both a mourning civilization and their common enemy, tired of fighting with herself, tired most of all of fighting with him. “I’m so, so tired.”
“I cleared out a drawer for you. Also made some space in the closet,” he offers.
It doesn’t take long to unpack her belongings. He shows her the slivers of space that he has and she quietly fills them with her meager belongings. He leaves her to unpack her toiletries and go through the motions of her nightly rituals.
She emerges from the head, freshly showered and wearing a light blue nightgown with a matching robe. “So, which side of the bed do I get?” she asks.
Bill tries very hard not to choke on the gulp of water he’d just taken. “Any side you want. I’m taking the couch.” There is a note of finality in his tone which Laura blissfully disregards.
“I am not putting you out on the couch. Stop being childish, we’re grown adults. We can share a bed.” The fire in her eyes is back.
“Laura,” he pleads. He isn’t in the mood for this tonight. Not after today’s series of events. “I’m tired,” he says, echoing her earlier confession.
“We’re both tired and there is an empty bed. So let’s use it.”
“Rack,” he corrects her weakly, “we call it a rack. And it’s frakking narrow. We won’t both fit.”
“Call it whatever you want,” she snaps, “get under the covers. I’ve shared smaller beds before and I am sure that you have too.”
He hates her a little as he climbs begrudgingly into the rack because she’s got that politicians smirk back on her face. His body is pressed as far to the hull of the ship as possible, but his other side still brushes against her bare arm. Bare, thanks to the fact that she has discarded her robe. He swallows. Hard.
“Well, this is cozy,” she remarks. A beat passes and he can feel her body start to shake with the giggles. “Oh Gods Bill, this is all so frakking ridiculous!” He turns his head slightly and sees tears running in narrow streams down her face. Of all the fantasies that he had dreamed up involving Laura sharing his rack, none of them had included tears or giggles.
He turns slightly, and despite his earlier discomfort, gathers her in his arms. He places chaste kisses against the crown of her head as her giggles softly begin to dwindle. She snuggles deeper into his embrace and sighs contently.
“This is kind of cozy,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed this.”
Bill stiffens beside her. He’s torn between jealousy at the mere mention of previous lovers, but also sadness that she’d been denied this sort of intimacy lately. Laura seemed to sense where his mind was wandering.
“The simple act of being comforted,” she clarifies, “having a friend you can lean on…literally,” she giggles again softly.
“I’m always here Laura,” he says softly. “Even when-“
“I know.” She cuts him off because the events of this evening are still too raw. She doesn’t want to think about how she will eventually be forced to relocate on some barren planet. He rubs soothing circles against her shoulder and tries not to think about the softness of her skin, the intoxicating scent of her rationed shampoo, the warmth of her breaths against his chest.
“Maybe, we should enjoy this. While we can,” he says softly. Her eyelids are already fluttering; slumber is pulling at her exhausted limbs and weary mind.
“I am,” she murmurs.