001 - A Precious Little While
Title: A Precious Little While
Author: LongLiveLaura
Rating: PG13 (I guess)
Word Count:
Prompt: 001, Admiral's quarters
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
A/N: I'm not sure if this is acceptable for this comm - it's shippy. Mod, please delete if inappropriate.
Laura and Bill were lying together in his rack, both sweaty, both breathless from having made passionate love. Though the mattress was narrow when compared to an actual bed, there was enough room so that each of them was able to lie on their back, she nearest the bulkhead, he on the outer edge. As their bodies began to cool, the fact that their shoulders, hips and thighs touched wasn't enough contact for Laura. She rolled onto her side to face Bill and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. She stretched to give him a kiss and they shared a sleepy smile. She settled her head on his shoulder, draped her arm across his chest and absently fingered the sparse hair along his breastbone.
"Thank you," she sighed.
Bill chuckled.
"That wasn't an entirely selfless act, Laura."
She snorted and slapped at him playfully.
"That's not what I meant," she said, smiled.
"Then what?" he asked.
She turned her face up to his, looked into the deep blue of his eyes, shrugged her shoulders.
"Everything," she whispered. "Thank you for ... everything."
Bill smiled tenderly back at her, put his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss, hugged her to him.
"It's my pleasure," he rasped.
"You say that now -"
"I mean it."
" - but it's gonna get worse, Bill," she said soberly, closed her eyes.
"Hey," he said, squeezed her gently until she returned her gaze to his. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
Laura stared at him, saw the truth of his promise in the depth of his eyes, believed him. She nodded her head, snuggled into him until his chin rested on top of her head.
"What time's your treatment tomorrow?" he asked, yawned.
"Three," she replied morosely. "After I meet with the quorum."
"And which of those two things are you most looking forward to?" he teased.
"Toss up," she scoffed. "They both make me nauseous."
Bill chuckled, kissed the top of her head.
"I'll be there," he said quietly into her hair.
"I know."
When Laura had told him her cancer was back, Bill had been shocked, saddened, angry, scared as all hell. She had tried to remain stoic in delivering the news, but when he'd taken her in his arms, she'd cried and accepted the comfort of Bill's embrace, his soothing words. They made solemn promises to each other that night: she to fight the disease, he to be with her every step of the way.
Laura had been staying in Bill's quarters since the news of her cancer's return came out at Baltar's trial. The official party line was that he was putting her up, to facilitate her diloxin treatments, until guest quarters could be made available aboard Galactica. While there was some truth to that, the whole truthwas that Laura and Bill simply wanted to spend as much time together as possible while they continued to deal with the emotions her illness brought to the fore.
Bill's cabin had become the one place to which both he and Laura could come to escape the weight of their burdens, those they shared as well as those each shouldered alone. When they were at home together, it was easy to forget, if just for a little while, that Bill was the aging Admiral of a motley fleet, that Laura was the dying leader of a disconsolate people. They shared meals, living space and a bed, secrets, fears and hopes. They laughed and cried together, got on each other's nerves and in each other's way. Their cohabitation and subsequent domesticity was the normalcy to which both clung in the midst of their chaotic existence. And because they knew it was fleeting, both treasured the hard won simplicity.
**********
"Laura," Bill called, shook her sleeping form. "It's time to get up."
He had been up for half an hour, had already checked in with CIC and taken a shower. Laura had slept through most of his morning routine, lay on her stomach in the middle of his rack with the sheet drawn up to her waist. He knew if she didn't wake up she'd be late for her morning meeting. Bill shook her again.
"Bill," she croaked without opening her eyes, "I'm seriously beginning to hate you in the morning."
He laughed, snatched the pillow out from under her head and thumped her on the ass with it. Her eyes sprung open and she leveled him with a withering glare.
"You don't scare me, Roslin," he said as he turned his back on her, walked toward the head. "Now get your ass outta that rack and get movin'," he ordered as he disappeared into the bathroom.
"Godsdamnit," she muttered, threw the covers back and swung her feet to the floor.
Laura sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, bent to pick up the tank Bill had removed before bed the night before, slipped it over her head. She stood with a groan, padded bare foot across wool rugs and cold metal decking on her way to the head.
Bill was standing in front of the sink shaving when she came in. He smiled at her approaching reflection in the mirror; her hair was a riot of messy curls, her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and she had creases on one side of her face from her pillow. His tank top hung loosely from her delicate frame and her long legs were bare. He thought she was at her most beautiful.
"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully, turned his head to grin at her as she made her way past him to the toilet.
"Is it?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
He turned back to face the mirror, started dragging the razor over his smiling face.
Laura hitched up the oversized tank, sat and gasped at the unwelcome chill of the metal toilet seat.
"Is coffee on the way?" she asked as she peed.
"Should be here any minute," Bill said, scraped the last of the shaving cream from his face.
Laura acknowledged his answer with a nod of her head, tore some tissue from the roll and put it to use. After she'd stood and flushed, she reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water. She stepped over to stand behind Bill, wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her face on his back as he rinsed his razor.
"Good morning," she said belatedly.
He covered her hands on his belly with one of his own, patted them and placed the razor on the edge of he sink.
"Water's running," he said.
"Mm hmm. It's warming up," she replied.
Bill looked over his shoulder, saw the steam billowing out from the shower and laughed.
"I think it's warm," he said sarcastically, turned in Laura's arms and kissed her when she presented her face to him. "Get in, get out and hurry the hell up," he said, gave her a gentle push in the right direction and exited the head.
"Yes, sir!" she grumbled after he'd left, stripped out of his tank.
"I heard that," he called from the other room and she rolled her eyes as she stepped into the hot shower.
**********
Half an hour later, wide awake and dressed for work, Laura joined Bill at the wooden table that served as both their dining table and her desk. They ate the light breakfast the galley had sent up, drank a pot of coffee between the two of them. Both were slowly morphing into their professional selves, preparing to leave the sanctuary of what they considered to be their home.
Laura stacked the dishes on a tray, cleared them from the table while Bill flipped through the pages of a report on Viper maintenance. She walked back to the sleeping area of the cabin to retrieve her glasses from the bedside table, smiled at the rack Bill had neatly made up while she was in the shower. She returned to her seat at the table, pulled some papers from the black leather bag on the chair beside her and began to review the notes for the day's meetings.
Bill excused himself and she waved him off without looking up from the file in front her as he entered the head, shut the door behind him. Laura checked her watch, saw that she still had fifteen minutes before Tory Foster arrived to accompany her to her first meeting of the day, which, Laura noted with a small measure of dread, was with the vice president.
As she continued to familiarize herself with the material she'd be discussing and debating with various government representatives and civilians alike, Bill reappeared, fastening the buttons at the collar of his uniform jacket. Laura began stuffing the paperwork back into her bag at what she'd come to know was Bill's signal that the workday was about to officially begin.
He came to stand beside her, put his hand flat on her back, between her shoulder blades, and rubbed easy circles over the fabric of her blouse.
"What's up first for you this morning?" he asked, looked over her shoulder at her agenda lying open on the table top.
"Frakking Zarek," she replied, flipped the agenda closed and crammed it into her bulging bag.
Bill grunted, shook his head at what he considered her bad fortune as Laura stood, pulled her jacket from the chair back and handed it to him. He helped her into the suit coat and she flipped her long hair out from under the collar, tilted her head down to work the buttons closed.
"How about you?" she asked as she smoothed her skirt and turned to reach for her bag.
"Morning briefing then a meeting with the CAG - typical," he answered as a knock sounded on the hatch.
"That'll be Tory," Laura sighed, shouldered her bag and headed towards the hatch, Bill in step beside her.
"You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she said, smiled.
He took her hands, returned her smile and leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes, tugged at his hands, drew him close enough that her breasts pressed into his chest and deepened the kiss. Bill parted his lips to briefly touch the tip of his tongue to hers, pulled back and broke the kiss with a wet smack.
"I'll see you in sickbay at fifteen hundred," he reminded her.
"Yes," she confirmed, lifted a hand to his mouth, rubbed the lipstick that had been transferred during their kiss from his lower lip.
"I love you, Laura," he said.
She moved her hand to cup his cheek, tears rushed to her eyes as she slid her green gaze up to his intense blue eyes. She believed him.
"I know," she whispered.
He gave her a little half-smile, released her hands and spun the wheel on the hatch.
"Have a good day," he said, pulled open the door and ushered her over the threshold with a hand to her lower back.
"I will, Bill," she said. "You too."
And they stepped out into the corridor, into their roles as Admiral and President.
Author: LongLiveLaura
Rating: PG13 (I guess)
Word Count:
Prompt: 001, Admiral's quarters
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
A/N: I'm not sure if this is acceptable for this comm - it's shippy. Mod, please delete if inappropriate.
Laura and Bill were lying together in his rack, both sweaty, both breathless from having made passionate love. Though the mattress was narrow when compared to an actual bed, there was enough room so that each of them was able to lie on their back, she nearest the bulkhead, he on the outer edge. As their bodies began to cool, the fact that their shoulders, hips and thighs touched wasn't enough contact for Laura. She rolled onto her side to face Bill and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. She stretched to give him a kiss and they shared a sleepy smile. She settled her head on his shoulder, draped her arm across his chest and absently fingered the sparse hair along his breastbone.
"Thank you," she sighed.
Bill chuckled.
"That wasn't an entirely selfless act, Laura."
She snorted and slapped at him playfully.
"That's not what I meant," she said, smiled.
"Then what?" he asked.
She turned her face up to his, looked into the deep blue of his eyes, shrugged her shoulders.
"Everything," she whispered. "Thank you for ... everything."
Bill smiled tenderly back at her, put his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss, hugged her to him.
"It's my pleasure," he rasped.
"You say that now -"
"I mean it."
" - but it's gonna get worse, Bill," she said soberly, closed her eyes.
"Hey," he said, squeezed her gently until she returned her gaze to his. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
Laura stared at him, saw the truth of his promise in the depth of his eyes, believed him. She nodded her head, snuggled into him until his chin rested on top of her head.
"What time's your treatment tomorrow?" he asked, yawned.
"Three," she replied morosely. "After I meet with the quorum."
"And which of those two things are you most looking forward to?" he teased.
"Toss up," she scoffed. "They both make me nauseous."
Bill chuckled, kissed the top of her head.
"I'll be there," he said quietly into her hair.
"I know."
When Laura had told him her cancer was back, Bill had been shocked, saddened, angry, scared as all hell. She had tried to remain stoic in delivering the news, but when he'd taken her in his arms, she'd cried and accepted the comfort of Bill's embrace, his soothing words. They made solemn promises to each other that night: she to fight the disease, he to be with her every step of the way.
Laura had been staying in Bill's quarters since the news of her cancer's return came out at Baltar's trial. The official party line was that he was putting her up, to facilitate her diloxin treatments, until guest quarters could be made available aboard Galactica. While there was some truth to that, the whole truthwas that Laura and Bill simply wanted to spend as much time together as possible while they continued to deal with the emotions her illness brought to the fore.
Bill's cabin had become the one place to which both he and Laura could come to escape the weight of their burdens, those they shared as well as those each shouldered alone. When they were at home together, it was easy to forget, if just for a little while, that Bill was the aging Admiral of a motley fleet, that Laura was the dying leader of a disconsolate people. They shared meals, living space and a bed, secrets, fears and hopes. They laughed and cried together, got on each other's nerves and in each other's way. Their cohabitation and subsequent domesticity was the normalcy to which both clung in the midst of their chaotic existence. And because they knew it was fleeting, both treasured the hard won simplicity.
**********
"Laura," Bill called, shook her sleeping form. "It's time to get up."
He had been up for half an hour, had already checked in with CIC and taken a shower. Laura had slept through most of his morning routine, lay on her stomach in the middle of his rack with the sheet drawn up to her waist. He knew if she didn't wake up she'd be late for her morning meeting. Bill shook her again.
"Bill," she croaked without opening her eyes, "I'm seriously beginning to hate you in the morning."
He laughed, snatched the pillow out from under her head and thumped her on the ass with it. Her eyes sprung open and she leveled him with a withering glare.
"You don't scare me, Roslin," he said as he turned his back on her, walked toward the head. "Now get your ass outta that rack and get movin'," he ordered as he disappeared into the bathroom.
"Godsdamnit," she muttered, threw the covers back and swung her feet to the floor.
Laura sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, bent to pick up the tank Bill had removed before bed the night before, slipped it over her head. She stood with a groan, padded bare foot across wool rugs and cold metal decking on her way to the head.
Bill was standing in front of the sink shaving when she came in. He smiled at her approaching reflection in the mirror; her hair was a riot of messy curls, her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and she had creases on one side of her face from her pillow. His tank top hung loosely from her delicate frame and her long legs were bare. He thought she was at her most beautiful.
"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully, turned his head to grin at her as she made her way past him to the toilet.
"Is it?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
He turned back to face the mirror, started dragging the razor over his smiling face.
Laura hitched up the oversized tank, sat and gasped at the unwelcome chill of the metal toilet seat.
"Is coffee on the way?" she asked as she peed.
"Should be here any minute," Bill said, scraped the last of the shaving cream from his face.
Laura acknowledged his answer with a nod of her head, tore some tissue from the roll and put it to use. After she'd stood and flushed, she reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water. She stepped over to stand behind Bill, wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her face on his back as he rinsed his razor.
"Good morning," she said belatedly.
He covered her hands on his belly with one of his own, patted them and placed the razor on the edge of he sink.
"Water's running," he said.
"Mm hmm. It's warming up," she replied.
Bill looked over his shoulder, saw the steam billowing out from the shower and laughed.
"I think it's warm," he said sarcastically, turned in Laura's arms and kissed her when she presented her face to him. "Get in, get out and hurry the hell up," he said, gave her a gentle push in the right direction and exited the head.
"Yes, sir!" she grumbled after he'd left, stripped out of his tank.
"I heard that," he called from the other room and she rolled her eyes as she stepped into the hot shower.
**********
Half an hour later, wide awake and dressed for work, Laura joined Bill at the wooden table that served as both their dining table and her desk. They ate the light breakfast the galley had sent up, drank a pot of coffee between the two of them. Both were slowly morphing into their professional selves, preparing to leave the sanctuary of what they considered to be their home.
Laura stacked the dishes on a tray, cleared them from the table while Bill flipped through the pages of a report on Viper maintenance. She walked back to the sleeping area of the cabin to retrieve her glasses from the bedside table, smiled at the rack Bill had neatly made up while she was in the shower. She returned to her seat at the table, pulled some papers from the black leather bag on the chair beside her and began to review the notes for the day's meetings.
Bill excused himself and she waved him off without looking up from the file in front her as he entered the head, shut the door behind him. Laura checked her watch, saw that she still had fifteen minutes before Tory Foster arrived to accompany her to her first meeting of the day, which, Laura noted with a small measure of dread, was with the vice president.
As she continued to familiarize herself with the material she'd be discussing and debating with various government representatives and civilians alike, Bill reappeared, fastening the buttons at the collar of his uniform jacket. Laura began stuffing the paperwork back into her bag at what she'd come to know was Bill's signal that the workday was about to officially begin.
He came to stand beside her, put his hand flat on her back, between her shoulder blades, and rubbed easy circles over the fabric of her blouse.
"What's up first for you this morning?" he asked, looked over her shoulder at her agenda lying open on the table top.
"Frakking Zarek," she replied, flipped the agenda closed and crammed it into her bulging bag.
Bill grunted, shook his head at what he considered her bad fortune as Laura stood, pulled her jacket from the chair back and handed it to him. He helped her into the suit coat and she flipped her long hair out from under the collar, tilted her head down to work the buttons closed.
"How about you?" she asked as she smoothed her skirt and turned to reach for her bag.
"Morning briefing then a meeting with the CAG - typical," he answered as a knock sounded on the hatch.
"That'll be Tory," Laura sighed, shouldered her bag and headed towards the hatch, Bill in step beside her.
"You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she said, smiled.
He took her hands, returned her smile and leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes, tugged at his hands, drew him close enough that her breasts pressed into his chest and deepened the kiss. Bill parted his lips to briefly touch the tip of his tongue to hers, pulled back and broke the kiss with a wet smack.
"I'll see you in sickbay at fifteen hundred," he reminded her.
"Yes," she confirmed, lifted a hand to his mouth, rubbed the lipstick that had been transferred during their kiss from his lower lip.
"I love you, Laura," he said.
She moved her hand to cup his cheek, tears rushed to her eyes as she slid her green gaze up to his intense blue eyes. She believed him.
"I know," she whispered.
He gave her a little half-smile, released her hands and spun the wheel on the hatch.
"Have a good day," he said, pulled open the door and ushered her over the threshold with a hand to her lower back.
"I will, Bill," she said. "You too."
And they stepped out into the corridor, into their roles as Admiral and President.