BSG ficlette
A couple of people over at Yahtzee's drabble fest asked for Laura/Lee, and I decided to have a go. 832 words. This one's more meta than anything- I might do a dirty version later :).
Distraction
She was a good listener. She was perceptive. She was good at keeping her cool. She was firm. She was diplomatic. She was polite. People mocked the idea of a schoolteacher president in a time of emergency, but her skills were frighteningly appropriate to the situation.
Everything she needed to know she'd learned in kindergarten. Almost.
Because while teaching social skills to young children had taught her a great deal about sharing, cooperation, authority, respect, discipline, fairness, and being aware of the needs of others, and while she'd also picked up a few less savory skills thanks to Adar and her years in office, none of it had ever helped with her suseptibility to inappropriate, disorienting, and sometimes dangerous crushes.
And Lee Adama was as desperate and dangerous a crush as she had ever entertained. Not because of who he was, or because he was young, or because he was the son of the ranking military officer left in the universe. That would matter if something happened, but she got the impression he was in love with a fellow officer, someone way younger and hotter than she, and he had "fidelity" written all over him, mutiny or no.
So if nothing could ever happen, those practical considerations didn't matter.
But the crush was dangerous, rather than merely inconvenient like most hopeless crushes, because she could not, rationally, imagine a scenario in which she would have more on her plate, more to worry about, more responsibility. Or more need for support.
She needed him way too much. He fulfilled a role no one else had since the disaster, probably because he, in turn, needed to be that person. A compulsion drove Lee Adama to handsomely perform all the wonders of the best kid in the class. He was a good listener. He was fair. He was polite.
And he craved attention. The kind of attention a teacher or a leader or any authority figure could give. And she was the legal President of the Colonies, and in a position to give it.
There was one other problematic detail. He made her feel sexy, and if that weren't enough of a demand in life generally, the cancer put it over the top. She was dying from a diseased breast. And she only had to show up in her suit and be the President and he would show up and be handsome, listen respectfully, act dutifully and courageously to help her, to protect her, be at her side as a symbol of power and acceptance. He needed her, and she needed him, and there was no walking away.
And it was incredibly frakking distracting.
Distraction
She was a good listener. She was perceptive. She was good at keeping her cool. She was firm. She was diplomatic. She was polite. People mocked the idea of a schoolteacher president in a time of emergency, but her skills were frighteningly appropriate to the situation.
Everything she needed to know she'd learned in kindergarten. Almost.
Because while teaching social skills to young children had taught her a great deal about sharing, cooperation, authority, respect, discipline, fairness, and being aware of the needs of others, and while she'd also picked up a few less savory skills thanks to Adar and her years in office, none of it had ever helped with her suseptibility to inappropriate, disorienting, and sometimes dangerous crushes.
And Lee Adama was as desperate and dangerous a crush as she had ever entertained. Not because of who he was, or because he was young, or because he was the son of the ranking military officer left in the universe. That would matter if something happened, but she got the impression he was in love with a fellow officer, someone way younger and hotter than she, and he had "fidelity" written all over him, mutiny or no.
So if nothing could ever happen, those practical considerations didn't matter.
But the crush was dangerous, rather than merely inconvenient like most hopeless crushes, because she could not, rationally, imagine a scenario in which she would have more on her plate, more to worry about, more responsibility. Or more need for support.
She needed him way too much. He fulfilled a role no one else had since the disaster, probably because he, in turn, needed to be that person. A compulsion drove Lee Adama to handsomely perform all the wonders of the best kid in the class. He was a good listener. He was fair. He was polite.
And he craved attention. The kind of attention a teacher or a leader or any authority figure could give. And she was the legal President of the Colonies, and in a position to give it.
There was one other problematic detail. He made her feel sexy, and if that weren't enough of a demand in life generally, the cancer put it over the top. She was dying from a diseased breast. And she only had to show up in her suit and be the President and he would show up and be handsome, listen respectfully, act dutifully and courageously to help her, to protect her, be at her side as a symbol of power and acceptance. He needed her, and she needed him, and there was no walking away.
And it was incredibly frakking distracting.