Holiday! Celebrate! a Happy Laura Crackfic
Have you started writing your entry for Challenge #8, Make Laura Happy with a Holiday yet? No? Well, go read The Contest Rules right now, and think of an idea.
We'll wait.
Based on a comment thread that got a little out of hand, icedteainthebag and flamingo55 decided to make good on their threat promise to write a fic based on Madonna's "Holiday". As it's not meant for the actual fic contest, we post it now for your condemnation derision reading pleasure.
Title: Holiday! Celebrate! or How Laura Roslin Declared A Holiday and Delightful Things Happened.
Authors: flamingo55 and icedteainthebag
Pairing: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama
Rating: MA
Summary: Laura Roslin declares a Fleetwide holiday.
Notes: Written to celebrate and promote the new makelaurahappy 'Holiday' challenge. Since Madonna is the Queen of Pop and Laura Roslin is the Queen of the Twelve Colonies (work with us here) and Bill Adama is the King of well, everything, this fic takes all of its dialogue entirely from Madonna lyrics. The authors apologize in advance for any 80's hair-related trauma this may cause.
If we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be so nice
It was during a boring meeting, during a boring day, during what was frankly turning into a boring year, when President of the Twelve Colonies Laura Roslin decided she couldn't take any more bad times.
Laura picked up the wireless and heard it crackle as she turned it to 'Fleet announcement' mode. "Everybody spread the word. We're gonna have a celebration, all across the world, in every nation."
Admiral Bill Adama, currently admiralling from the CIC, listened to her. He was puzzled about what exactly Laura's idea of a 'nation' was nowadays, not to mention the 'world.' Perhaps she was speaking metaphorically.
The entire crew present in the CIC looked at each other in wonder and listened wordlessly as she continued.
"It's time for the good times. Forget about the bad times, oh yeah. One day to come together, to release the pressure," Laura continued.
Forget about the bad times? Bad times were just about all they had left, it seemed. Still, Bill couldn't disagree with the need for unity. He wondered if Laura had been inspired by the 'dance', and suspected that she was. Bill was an inspiring guy. She was probably trying to emulate one of his really inspiring spur-of-the moment speeches that he spent a lot of time practicing in the mirror, just in case. He thought again about her words - he certainly had enough pressure that needed releasing. He wondered if the President had time in her schedule to come together and release this pressure. Whatever that meant.
"We need a holiday," Laura concluded, declaring the following day 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
Bill decided to take a trip down to Colonial One to discuss with the President exactly how she planned to implement this day of celebrating these rare Good Times she spoke of.
He walked into her makeshift office to find her signing the official presidential resolution concerning 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
"If we took a holiday," Bill began, then drifted off in thought. He was not one to take holidays.
"Oooh, oh yeah," she intoned, arching her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
"Took some time to celebrate," he continued as Tory walked into the room with a handful of folders.
"Just one day out of life," Tory said, shrugging as she passed. She tossed the folders on Laura's desk and Laura grinned at her, then turned her attention back to the Admiral.
"It would be...It would be - "
"So nice," Laura sighed.
Bill made a decision. We have got to get together. He reached across Laura's desk and grabbed her hand, regarding her with his piercing, almost unnaturally blue eyes. "Put your troubles down. It's time to celebrate."
Laura stared at him for a moment, stunned, then quietly made a confession. "Last night, I dreamt of San Pedro."
"Como puede ser verdad?" Bill exclaimed in his native Tauronese tongue. He had dreamt of San Pedro, too. San Pedro, Picon. "Warm wind, carried on the sea?"
Laura nodded wistfully. "It all seems like yesterday, not... far away."
Maybe these were the good times she spoke so fondly of in her wireless address; Good times on San Pedro, Picon. "Tropical the island breeze, all of nature wild and free," he reminisced, recalling how the wild parrots flew across the sky as he and his bitch of an ex-wife sipped on margaritas in beach chairs. "This is where I long to be..."
"La Isla Bonita," they murmured together, then caught each other's eyes over her desk. She emitted a sharp, silence-fracturing giggle.
"Beautiful faces, no cares in this world," Laura said as she blushed furiously. Bill hoped she truly wasn't furious. "Where a girl loves a boy, and a boy..."
Bill's heart lept.
"...Loves a girl," he growled, taking her other hand. He pulled her up into a hard-hitting Gemenese gancho. All those years of dance classes as a mafia child finally were paying off. He wished he had a nice black fedora to really make an impression. She leaned back on his arm, exposing to him the long column of her neck, and the long, red tresses of her silky hair dangled over his arm.
"I'm tired of dancing here all by myself. Tonight I wanna dance with someone else," she said, her voice choked. Bill realized he'd been bending her over his arm in his hard-hitting Gemenese gancho for a minute too long. He pulled her back up and she landed upright with her hands against his chest.
"Gonna get to know you in a special way. This doesn't happen to me every day," Bill confessed, sliding his arms around her waist. His heart was beating so quickly, practically pounding its way out of his barrel chest. He felt the rhythm in his body then. It made him feel like dancing.
"You can dance," Laura hummed.
"For inspiration," Bill countered.
"Get into the groove," Laura responded, pulling him closer with a gleam in her green eyes. "Boy, you've got to prove your love to me."
"Yeeeeah." Bill let his hands roam down over the supple curve of her ass. Hell yeah. Laura moaned softly and leaned into him.
"Put your hands all over my body," she whispered in his ear.
Suddenly there was a crackle over the wireless. "Faster than the speeding light she's flying," Gaeta said, his voice frantic. "Trying to remember, where it all began."
Bill knew this was code for a Cylon Raider attack; Gaeta had rewritten all of the action stations into literary allusions, so as not to cause any more widespread panic and mayhem amongst the insipid civilian population. Luckily, Bill was also a master at willing his erections back down within seconds. He had garnered a lot of practice in those long meetings with the President, especially the ones where she wore the short skirts and crossed her legs a lot. He pulled away from her reluctantly.
"Don't put me off, 'cause I'm on fire, and I can't quench my desire," Laura complained breathily, her cheeks reddened.
"I put myself in this position," Bill explained in a low grumble, "and I deserve the imposition."
"I'm not blind," she said, looking down at his pants, "and I know that you want to want me, but you can't let go."
Come on, let go. He could not take all of her teasing when he needed to get to the CIC without looking conspicuous.
"Unlike the others, I'd do anything. I'm not the same, I have no shame." Laura sounded incredibly, temptingly desperate.
"Borderline... feels like I'm going to lose my mind," Bill breathed, gritting his teeth. Then he shook his head, shedding his aroused stupor and reverting into Admiral mode. "And baby, I perish the thought of ever leaving, I never would."
Then, he left.
He flew back on his Raptor to Galactica to check out the situation in the CIC. He was proud to find out that Saul, his dependable albeit inebriated XO, had launched Vipers and thwarted the Cylon attack. However, he was pretty pissed that he'd gotten called to Galactica when he was finally about to score with the President.
Gaeta suddenly announced, to much dismay, that the freighter Argentina had been blown up by the now-destroyed Cylon Raider. Bill picked up the wireless and looked at the screens above the CIC control table with an intense and resolute expression, then brought the comm unit to his lips.
"Don't cry for me Argentina," he said slowly into the wireless. "The truth is I never left you."
That was a lie. That ship was a sitting duck, and he knew it. It was old and slow, and carried a bunch of useless cargo the Fleet didn't need - mostly 8-track tapes of disco bands, books about teenage vampires, and parachute pants. Bill was proud that despite their extreme clothing shortages, people still refused to wear parachute pants. Though he did steal one of those teenage vampire books and had been reading it in his rack at night when nobody was looking. He was on Team Edward, for sure.
"All through my wild days, my mad existence..." he murmured, before he couldn't speak another word, he was so wrought with emotion. He had a peculiar affection for the Argentina, as it was the freighter he met Saul on so many decades beforehand.
"I kept my promise...don't keep your distance," Saul choked, wiping a tear from his singular eye.
Bill wasn't sure Saul realized that the ship had been decimated. Maybe it was better that way. He would hate for it to be symbolic of their fractured relationship since New Caprica.
"Only the one that hurts you can make you feel better," he told Saul, dismissing him to go frak his promiscuous wife.
Bill then walked down to the hangar deck to congratulate Kara, his dead son's fiancee, and Lee, his still-living son, on their successful mission.
"Did you do it?" Bill asked.
"Ya know I did it," Lee said with a scoff. He seemed irritated at the question. "I let the seat recline and I hit it."
"Rain, feel it on my fingertips, hear it on my window pane," Kara said, grinning at the Admiral. "Your love's coming down like rain."
"Love don't live here anymore," Bill said gruffly. Frankly he was embarrassed at Kara's jubilation when Lee had done all the work. "Just emptiness and memories."
Kara looked pretty sad when he said that, but still smiled regardless. Bill knew that his ace Viper jockey knew how to take criticism.
Just then a Raptor arrived in the hangar bay. It was Laura, who had taken it upon herself to board his ship without asking his permission. Again.
"Holiday," she declared as she debarked the Raptor. "Celebrate."
The entire hangar bay crew erupted in cheers, threw each other into wheeled carts and ran around in circles, as they often did when they were celebrating something. The only one not celebrating was Helo. This did not surprise Bill.
Laura walked over to Bill, who managed to step close enough to Laura that he was brushing against her arm. She smiled with a sideways glance at him.
Helo looked at Bill, his expression sullen, his jaw clenched. "The one you warned me all about...the one you said I could do without. We're in an awful mess, and I don't mean maybe."
"Please," Bill sighed. Gods damn was he tired of Helo's emo.
"Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep," Helo snapped.
Sharon walked up behind him, holding Hera in her arms. "I've been losing sleep. But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby."
Sharon turned her angry glare on Laura, who huffed and tapped her foot. She had a reputation now because of her penchant for human trafficking.
"He says that he's going to marry me. We can raise a little family. Maybe we'll be all right," Sharon said. It was pretty amazing to Bill that after all this Sharon still had a positive outlook on life.
"It's a sacrifice," Bill grumbled. One he didn't understand at all.
"What I need right now is some good advice, please," Helo demanded.
Gods damn emo.
"Romeo and Juliet, they never felt this way I bet. So don't underestimate my point of view," Laura said cautiously.
Bill had never heard of Romeo or Juliet. Maybe Laura owned pets in Caprica City. Those were pretty nice names for lovebirds. Or kittens. Maybe gerbils.
"I'm gonna keep my baby," Sharon repeated.
Laura sighed with an exasperated eyeroll and grabbed Bill's arm, dragging him away from the crowd. Bill heard her muttering some assorted curses, stuff about toasters, and something about an opera house, which made him wonder if she was into these things before the attacks tore apart their lives. He thought it best to accompany Laura on her mission to spread word of 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' throughout his ship, just in case there was an altercation. She was such a hothead.
It turned him on.
x x x x
Gaius was preaching again. "A man can tell a thousand lies," he intoned, to the young, breathless women who hung on his every word. "I've learned my lesson well." Have you? was the unspoken question.
Turning to the Six in a red dress that stood behind the groupies, he asked plaintively, "Will it grow cold? This secret that I hide, will I grow old?"
The Six just rolled her eyes - she was tired of Gaius and his whining. God's chosen one? More like God's sniveling brat. His rejected, bastard child. And that hair. She really wanted him to take a shower. But Gaius was afraid of the shower after that unfortunate incident with Figurski.
One of the groupies - Paula? Angelina? Lourdes? Gaius couldn't remember - expressed concern for his safety, again, and suggested that he relocate. Gaius just smiled indulgently. "If I ran away, I'd never have the strength to go very far." He held his hands out to her, pulling her down onto the pillows. "How would they hear the beating of my heart?" Warming to his topic, he raised his voice and addressed the crowd. "When will they hear? When will they learn? How will they know?"
There was a murmur of general agreement, which turned into gasps when Laura strode into the room, flanked by her occasionally-present retinue of staff and guards. Bill stormed in right behind her, the better to watch her ass in the corridor. He hoped she would find a ladder and climb it soon.
"Holiday," Laura demanded to the room full of Gaius groupies. "Celebrate."
Laura wanted to make sure Gaius understood that this holiday was not celebrating him or his greasy hair.
"I hear your voice," Gaius said from his pile of pillows and harem wenches. "It's like an angel sighing."
"I have no choice, I hear your voice," Laura said, and Bill interpreted her mannerisms to be quite irritable. It was a good thing there wasn't an airlock nearby. He chuckled at the old joke that was still funny to everyone. Laura glared at him angrily and he quieted. He couldn't blame her for being irritable. Hearing that frakweasel's voice set him off too. Plus, they still had not managed to come together and release their pressure. He hoped they could rectify that situation post haste. Maybe rectifiably.
"I close my eyes," Gaius continued, rising on his feet and raising his hands. "Oh Gods, I think I'm falling... out of the sky, I close my eyes."
"Heavens, help me," Laura hissed, yanking on Bill's arm as she stormed away.
What the frak is he on. We haven't seen a sky for years. Bill didn't get Baltar, but he didn't mind Laura jerking him around all day.
As they walked in a harried rush down one of Galactica's corridors, Bill's hand glued to the small of Laura's back, Gaeta emerged from a side causeway. Bill greeted him with a nod as he took the latest fuel consumption report from the young lieutenant.
"Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they're okay," Gaeta said as he walked along with them, a little bit of spunk in his step. Laura shot him a confused look. Bill was not confused at all; in fact, it had seemed glaringly obvious to him for quite some time that Gaeta was into boys. "If they don't give me proper credit, I just walk away."
"Express yourself," Bill said, handing the report back to Gaeta. "So you can respect yourself."
"You deserve the best in life," Laura agreed. "So if the time isn't right then move on. Second best is never enough. You'll do much better, baby, on your own."
Gaeta studied them curiously and then left. Bill decided to go to the CIC to do some hardcore admiralling and invited Laura to make herself at home in his quarters. It was completely chivalrous of him and he did not have any ulterior motives, as usual. She agreed, most likely because of how honorable she knew his intentions were.
When Bill returned to his quarters later, he found Laura pacing, barefoot, ripping up index cards and breaking pencils all over his cabin, muttering to herself. "Greta Garbo, and Monroe. Dietrich and DiMaggio."
Bill frowned. She was doing it again - reciting names from the Olympic Carrier. She did it whenever she felt particularly stressed or guilty.
"Grace Kelly, Harlow, Jean," and something... about a beauty queen? "Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers," she mumbled something else that sounded like "dance on air," and Bill just sighed. He wondered idly why she said some of the names last name, first name, and whether or not Gene and Grace Kelly were related. He really wished Laura would get over it already - after all, a whole lot of shit had happened since then, and even his emo son didn't fret over the Olympic Carrier this much. Besides, carrying around guilt for years was his job, as explicitly described in their Fleet job descriptions, and he didn't need Laura moving in on his territory. He asked her what was wrong, and she confessed that she hadn't gotten any plans made for 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
"Rescue me," she pleaded.
Bill smiled and told her his idea for a gathering on the hangar deck. Those were always popular. Laura wondered what they would chant this time. She smiled back, sighing as he took her in his arms. "With you I'm not a fascist, can't play you like a toy," she said. She began unbuttoning his uniform. "And when I need to dominate you're not my little boy."
Bill leaned in and kissed her, hard. Now she was talking. "I got the moves, baby, you've got the motion." He pushed her jacket to the floor. "If we got together we'd be causing a commotion."
Laura moaned in response. "If you want it, you already got it."
They finished undressing quickly, and fell onto the couch in a passionate frenzy. "Say the word, and I will give you what you want," Bill promised in his gravelly baritone.
"Come on, boy," Laura panted, tilting her hips up to meet him.
Bill pressed his average length but extremely thick cock into her with a groan. "Like a virgin...touched for the very first time."
He wasn't sure if he was taking about himself or Laura.
"Been saving it all for you," Laura breathed.
He knew THAT was a lie, but he didn't care at that point.
Laura curled her legs around his waist and emitted soft, throaty whimpers, interspersed with low, satisfied hums.
"Feels so good inside," Bill groaned, low and growly. Damn near gruffly.
"Keep it up, keep it up," Laura demanded, kicking his firm ass with her heel.
"If I take you from behind, push myself into your mind," Bill spoke as he thrust into her, "when you least expect it, will you try and reject it?"
Laura groaned as she turned over for him. "There's a certain satisfaction in a little bit of pain," she murmured as she gazed over her shoulder.
"I'll give you love. I'll hit you like a truck," he growled as he entered her again. Like a frakkin' truck.
"Please don't call a doctor, 'cause there's nothing wrong with me," Laura pleaded. "I just like things a little rough and you'd better not disagree."
Disagree? Bill thought. Frak, no. They came together in a frenzy of passionate shouts and sweatied limbs, then paused and looked deep into each others' eyes. "Oh, Baby," Bill sighed.
Laura nodded, suddenly overcome by emotion. "Don't you know, don't you know that it's - "
"True love," Bill said, cupping her cheek. Her ass cheek. Because he was still behind her.
Just then, their tender moment was interrupted by the buzz of the comm unit. Adama grabbed it, swore, then slammed it down again. "I'm out of time. I only got four minutes to save the world." Again. He was frakking tired of it.
Laura was left staring after him as he ran for the hatch. She called out to him, reminding him that he was still naked. He thanked her, and put his clothes on.
3 minutes, now.
Bill got to CIC only to discover that the crisis had been resolved, again, before he got there. Baseship attack his ass. Saul explained it had just been a cloud of space dust. He started to suspect that Saul was only trying to interrupt his attempts to sex up the President. Saul's smirk did not help his suspicions any.
"She's trouble, in a word, get closer to the fire," Saul said to his oldest friend.
Bill fumed. How dare his XO talk about Laura like that? Storming out, he went to prepare his oddly inspirational speech for 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.' It needed to mention something about the past, and honoring the dead, but in a jovial way. Just as he reached the door, though, he spun around, and barked an order back into CIC. "Holiday! Celebrate!"
They barked back So Say We All. Cheerily.
He walked into his quarters and Laura was gone. Figures. Frakkin' sucks. He picked up his whiskey and plopped down on the couch.
"Bad girl, drunk by six," he growled as he drank until he passed out; but like a man, he handled his liquor well.
'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' dawned bright and early the next morning. Or at least it would have if there was dawn in outer space. Bill strode down to the hangar deck, passing Tigh, Chief, Tory, and Sam Anders, who were walking together like some sort of bizarre posse.
"Where's the party?" Anders asked, looking around in awe.
"I want to free my soul," Tory concurred.
"Where's the party?" demanded Chief.
"I want to lose control," Saul finished.
Bill just stared. What the hell had Chief been brewing up now? They seemed to have all lost their minds. Frak it, let them. Today was about the good times, not the crazy times.
He continued on to the hangar deck, spotting Laura across the room. He resisted the urge to run to her, especially since she was talking to Zarek, that frakking terrorist. Why the hell was he still wearing that red jumpsuit?
"If you gave me half a chance, you'd see, my desire burning inside of me," Zarek was pleading to a very annoyed Laura.
Bill fumed and decided to roll a hard six. He was going to make sure that everyone knew that Laura was his, and his alone. He called everyone together to start the celebration and strode to the stage, glaring at Zarek until he went and sat down, his lower lip trembling. "The show is over. Say goodbye," Bill snapped.
Bill grabbed the microphone and turned to Laura. "You must be my lucky star, 'cause you shine on me wherever you are."
Laura beamed. "I'm the luckiest by far," she replied with a giggle.
Bill grinned. That was just the response he'd been hoping for. He dropped to one knee and asked Laura to marry him.
"I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there," he said, his voice gruff and low.
She immediately agreed, crying, "I'm crazy for you."
A man of action, Bill decided they should get married right on the spot. Getting spontaneously married had never gone wrongly for him before, so why change now?
He called for Baltar to come, so to speak, and make himself useful. Laura had a moment of hesitation about getting married by someone who believed in the One True God instead of the Whole Bunch Of True Gods, but decided that it didn't matter. Chief erected a quick pulpit using some scrap metal from a busted Viper and everybody stood in front of it, waiting with bated breath and unprecedented anticipation. Racetrack, Seelix and Kat even made some tissue-paper flowers for Laura. Nobody wondered if there was a conflict of interest in joining the head of the military and the protectorate of the civilian population in a blessed union.
Baltar, wearing his magnificent purple robes and flanked by his choir of harem girls, began to unite Bill and Laura in marriage. Bill stood in his dress grays and sash and Laura in her lavender suit with the short skirt from the day of the attacks - none of that blue and white decommissioning ceremony crap, which made Bill so happy. And not that gods-awful gray thing with the high collar and the weird ruffle on the butt. Why Laura would cover her butt with anything, he did not know. Oh, and thank the Lords of Kobol she wasn't wearing that shapeless pullover sweater jumper whatthefrakever thing from New Caprica. He made sure that thing stayed where it belonged--on the ground. He did toy with the idea of dragging the entire fleet back to New Caprica to rescue that little red number she'd worn, but decided against it.
"Let love shine, and we will find a way to come together and make things better," Baltar proclaimed. "Express yourself."
That meant it was time to exchange hastily prepared wedding vows.
"I've had other guys. I've looked into their eyes," Laura began passionately.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
"But I never knew love before, 'til you walked through my door," she finished, putting her hand over her lips, her eyes shining with tears.
A satisfied 'ooooh' then reverberated through the room. Bill smiled.
Bill pulled her close, sliding his arms around her waist. "I've had other lips. I've sailed a thousand ships. But no matter where I go, you're the one for me, baby, this I know, 'cause it's..."
"True love," the choir of harem girls sang with much bravado, their voices echoing through the hangar bay.
"You're the one I'm dreaming of," Laura whispered, putting her warm, soft, small hand on his cheek.
"Your heart fits me like a glove," Bill responded. Not exactly what he wanted to say, but he wanted to use the appropriate euphemism given their audience.
Laura smiled knowingly. "And I'm gonna be... true blue, baby, I love you."
"I love you," Bill repeated, his heart swelling. Well, not just his heart. Maybe people wouldn't notice. The increase in flashes popping, however, indicated that perhaps they had.
Laura kissed him square on the mouth, looking into his true blue eyes.
"True love, baby," the choir swooned.
They kissed more and everyone looked away uncomfortably, except for some people - oddly, they all seemed to be women - in the way back who were jumping up and down and cheering and making high-pitched squealing noises.
"Holiday! Celebration!" the choir sang. Bill was not much into choirs and that choir was getting frakking annoying, but at least he was kissing Laura.
"Come together in every nation," Laura announced when they broke off their kiss. Bill hoped those were her honeymoon plans. This was the best 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' ever.
Thousands of balloons were released as Bill and Laura boarded their nuptual Raptor. Kara and Lee had tied tin cans to the back and spraypainted 'Just Married' on the rear tail.
Once on their way, Bill realized that they had nowhere to go, as there was no habitable planet anywhere nearby. No matter. He jumped far enough away that Starbuck wouldn't be flying by and spying on them, then opened his bag and brought out the item he'd saved for this moment. Very, very slowly, he began to read from the pages.
Laura sighed. While she did love it when he read to her veeeeeery slowly, right now she wanted more than just metaphorical frakking. It was, after all, their honeymoon. Besides, she was tired of this damn story about the raft and its hoped-for seaworthiness, especially since Bill refused to read the ending, where they actually determined the seaworthiness of the raft. "Give it up and let me have my way," she purred.
Bill was only too happy to comply. "Touch my body, and move in time. Now I know you're mine."
Laura hummed her agreement. "Now I know you're mine."
And they lived happily ever after. Because that's how everything ends.
Happily.
We'll wait.
Based on a comment thread that got a little out of hand, icedteainthebag and flamingo55 decided to make good on their threat promise to write a fic based on Madonna's "Holiday". As it's not meant for the actual fic contest, we post it now for your condemnation derision reading pleasure.
Title: Holiday! Celebrate! or How Laura Roslin Declared A Holiday and Delightful Things Happened.
Authors: flamingo55 and icedteainthebag
Pairing: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama
Rating: MA
Summary: Laura Roslin declares a Fleetwide holiday.
Notes: Written to celebrate and promote the new makelaurahappy 'Holiday' challenge. Since Madonna is the Queen of Pop and Laura Roslin is the Queen of the Twelve Colonies (work with us here) and Bill Adama is the King of well, everything, this fic takes all of its dialogue entirely from Madonna lyrics. The authors apologize in advance for any 80's hair-related trauma this may cause.
If we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be so nice
It was during a boring meeting, during a boring day, during what was frankly turning into a boring year, when President of the Twelve Colonies Laura Roslin decided she couldn't take any more bad times.
Laura picked up the wireless and heard it crackle as she turned it to 'Fleet announcement' mode. "Everybody spread the word. We're gonna have a celebration, all across the world, in every nation."
Admiral Bill Adama, currently admiralling from the CIC, listened to her. He was puzzled about what exactly Laura's idea of a 'nation' was nowadays, not to mention the 'world.' Perhaps she was speaking metaphorically.
The entire crew present in the CIC looked at each other in wonder and listened wordlessly as she continued.
"It's time for the good times. Forget about the bad times, oh yeah. One day to come together, to release the pressure," Laura continued.
Forget about the bad times? Bad times were just about all they had left, it seemed. Still, Bill couldn't disagree with the need for unity. He wondered if Laura had been inspired by the 'dance', and suspected that she was. Bill was an inspiring guy. She was probably trying to emulate one of his really inspiring spur-of-the moment speeches that he spent a lot of time practicing in the mirror, just in case. He thought again about her words - he certainly had enough pressure that needed releasing. He wondered if the President had time in her schedule to come together and release this pressure. Whatever that meant.
"We need a holiday," Laura concluded, declaring the following day 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
Bill decided to take a trip down to Colonial One to discuss with the President exactly how she planned to implement this day of celebrating these rare Good Times she spoke of.
He walked into her makeshift office to find her signing the official presidential resolution concerning 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
"If we took a holiday," Bill began, then drifted off in thought. He was not one to take holidays.
"Oooh, oh yeah," she intoned, arching her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
"Took some time to celebrate," he continued as Tory walked into the room with a handful of folders.
"Just one day out of life," Tory said, shrugging as she passed. She tossed the folders on Laura's desk and Laura grinned at her, then turned her attention back to the Admiral.
"It would be...It would be - "
"So nice," Laura sighed.
Bill made a decision. We have got to get together. He reached across Laura's desk and grabbed her hand, regarding her with his piercing, almost unnaturally blue eyes. "Put your troubles down. It's time to celebrate."
Laura stared at him for a moment, stunned, then quietly made a confession. "Last night, I dreamt of San Pedro."
"Como puede ser verdad?" Bill exclaimed in his native Tauronese tongue. He had dreamt of San Pedro, too. San Pedro, Picon. "Warm wind, carried on the sea?"
Laura nodded wistfully. "It all seems like yesterday, not... far away."
Maybe these were the good times she spoke so fondly of in her wireless address; Good times on San Pedro, Picon. "Tropical the island breeze, all of nature wild and free," he reminisced, recalling how the wild parrots flew across the sky as he and his bitch of an ex-wife sipped on margaritas in beach chairs. "This is where I long to be..."
"La Isla Bonita," they murmured together, then caught each other's eyes over her desk. She emitted a sharp, silence-fracturing giggle.
"Beautiful faces, no cares in this world," Laura said as she blushed furiously. Bill hoped she truly wasn't furious. "Where a girl loves a boy, and a boy..."
Bill's heart lept.
"...Loves a girl," he growled, taking her other hand. He pulled her up into a hard-hitting Gemenese gancho. All those years of dance classes as a mafia child finally were paying off. He wished he had a nice black fedora to really make an impression. She leaned back on his arm, exposing to him the long column of her neck, and the long, red tresses of her silky hair dangled over his arm.
"I'm tired of dancing here all by myself. Tonight I wanna dance with someone else," she said, her voice choked. Bill realized he'd been bending her over his arm in his hard-hitting Gemenese gancho for a minute too long. He pulled her back up and she landed upright with her hands against his chest.
"Gonna get to know you in a special way. This doesn't happen to me every day," Bill confessed, sliding his arms around her waist. His heart was beating so quickly, practically pounding its way out of his barrel chest. He felt the rhythm in his body then. It made him feel like dancing.
"You can dance," Laura hummed.
"For inspiration," Bill countered.
"Get into the groove," Laura responded, pulling him closer with a gleam in her green eyes. "Boy, you've got to prove your love to me."
"Yeeeeah." Bill let his hands roam down over the supple curve of her ass. Hell yeah. Laura moaned softly and leaned into him.
"Put your hands all over my body," she whispered in his ear.
Suddenly there was a crackle over the wireless. "Faster than the speeding light she's flying," Gaeta said, his voice frantic. "Trying to remember, where it all began."
Bill knew this was code for a Cylon Raider attack; Gaeta had rewritten all of the action stations into literary allusions, so as not to cause any more widespread panic and mayhem amongst the insipid civilian population. Luckily, Bill was also a master at willing his erections back down within seconds. He had garnered a lot of practice in those long meetings with the President, especially the ones where she wore the short skirts and crossed her legs a lot. He pulled away from her reluctantly.
"Don't put me off, 'cause I'm on fire, and I can't quench my desire," Laura complained breathily, her cheeks reddened.
"I put myself in this position," Bill explained in a low grumble, "and I deserve the imposition."
"I'm not blind," she said, looking down at his pants, "and I know that you want to want me, but you can't let go."
Come on, let go. He could not take all of her teasing when he needed to get to the CIC without looking conspicuous.
"Unlike the others, I'd do anything. I'm not the same, I have no shame." Laura sounded incredibly, temptingly desperate.
"Borderline... feels like I'm going to lose my mind," Bill breathed, gritting his teeth. Then he shook his head, shedding his aroused stupor and reverting into Admiral mode. "And baby, I perish the thought of ever leaving, I never would."
Then, he left.
He flew back on his Raptor to Galactica to check out the situation in the CIC. He was proud to find out that Saul, his dependable albeit inebriated XO, had launched Vipers and thwarted the Cylon attack. However, he was pretty pissed that he'd gotten called to Galactica when he was finally about to score with the President.
Gaeta suddenly announced, to much dismay, that the freighter Argentina had been blown up by the now-destroyed Cylon Raider. Bill picked up the wireless and looked at the screens above the CIC control table with an intense and resolute expression, then brought the comm unit to his lips.
"Don't cry for me Argentina," he said slowly into the wireless. "The truth is I never left you."
That was a lie. That ship was a sitting duck, and he knew it. It was old and slow, and carried a bunch of useless cargo the Fleet didn't need - mostly 8-track tapes of disco bands, books about teenage vampires, and parachute pants. Bill was proud that despite their extreme clothing shortages, people still refused to wear parachute pants. Though he did steal one of those teenage vampire books and had been reading it in his rack at night when nobody was looking. He was on Team Edward, for sure.
"All through my wild days, my mad existence..." he murmured, before he couldn't speak another word, he was so wrought with emotion. He had a peculiar affection for the Argentina, as it was the freighter he met Saul on so many decades beforehand.
"I kept my promise...don't keep your distance," Saul choked, wiping a tear from his singular eye.
Bill wasn't sure Saul realized that the ship had been decimated. Maybe it was better that way. He would hate for it to be symbolic of their fractured relationship since New Caprica.
"Only the one that hurts you can make you feel better," he told Saul, dismissing him to go frak his promiscuous wife.
Bill then walked down to the hangar deck to congratulate Kara, his dead son's fiancee, and Lee, his still-living son, on their successful mission.
"Did you do it?" Bill asked.
"Ya know I did it," Lee said with a scoff. He seemed irritated at the question. "I let the seat recline and I hit it."
"Rain, feel it on my fingertips, hear it on my window pane," Kara said, grinning at the Admiral. "Your love's coming down like rain."
"Love don't live here anymore," Bill said gruffly. Frankly he was embarrassed at Kara's jubilation when Lee had done all the work. "Just emptiness and memories."
Kara looked pretty sad when he said that, but still smiled regardless. Bill knew that his ace Viper jockey knew how to take criticism.
Just then a Raptor arrived in the hangar bay. It was Laura, who had taken it upon herself to board his ship without asking his permission. Again.
"Holiday," she declared as she debarked the Raptor. "Celebrate."
The entire hangar bay crew erupted in cheers, threw each other into wheeled carts and ran around in circles, as they often did when they were celebrating something. The only one not celebrating was Helo. This did not surprise Bill.
Laura walked over to Bill, who managed to step close enough to Laura that he was brushing against her arm. She smiled with a sideways glance at him.
Helo looked at Bill, his expression sullen, his jaw clenched. "The one you warned me all about...the one you said I could do without. We're in an awful mess, and I don't mean maybe."
"Please," Bill sighed. Gods damn was he tired of Helo's emo.
"Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep," Helo snapped.
Sharon walked up behind him, holding Hera in her arms. "I've been losing sleep. But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby."
Sharon turned her angry glare on Laura, who huffed and tapped her foot. She had a reputation now because of her penchant for human trafficking.
"He says that he's going to marry me. We can raise a little family. Maybe we'll be all right," Sharon said. It was pretty amazing to Bill that after all this Sharon still had a positive outlook on life.
"It's a sacrifice," Bill grumbled. One he didn't understand at all.
"What I need right now is some good advice, please," Helo demanded.
Gods damn emo.
"Romeo and Juliet, they never felt this way I bet. So don't underestimate my point of view," Laura said cautiously.
Bill had never heard of Romeo or Juliet. Maybe Laura owned pets in Caprica City. Those were pretty nice names for lovebirds. Or kittens. Maybe gerbils.
"I'm gonna keep my baby," Sharon repeated.
Laura sighed with an exasperated eyeroll and grabbed Bill's arm, dragging him away from the crowd. Bill heard her muttering some assorted curses, stuff about toasters, and something about an opera house, which made him wonder if she was into these things before the attacks tore apart their lives. He thought it best to accompany Laura on her mission to spread word of 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' throughout his ship, just in case there was an altercation. She was such a hothead.
It turned him on.
x x x x
Gaius was preaching again. "A man can tell a thousand lies," he intoned, to the young, breathless women who hung on his every word. "I've learned my lesson well." Have you? was the unspoken question.
Turning to the Six in a red dress that stood behind the groupies, he asked plaintively, "Will it grow cold? This secret that I hide, will I grow old?"
The Six just rolled her eyes - she was tired of Gaius and his whining. God's chosen one? More like God's sniveling brat. His rejected, bastard child. And that hair. She really wanted him to take a shower. But Gaius was afraid of the shower after that unfortunate incident with Figurski.
One of the groupies - Paula? Angelina? Lourdes? Gaius couldn't remember - expressed concern for his safety, again, and suggested that he relocate. Gaius just smiled indulgently. "If I ran away, I'd never have the strength to go very far." He held his hands out to her, pulling her down onto the pillows. "How would they hear the beating of my heart?" Warming to his topic, he raised his voice and addressed the crowd. "When will they hear? When will they learn? How will they know?"
There was a murmur of general agreement, which turned into gasps when Laura strode into the room, flanked by her occasionally-present retinue of staff and guards. Bill stormed in right behind her, the better to watch her ass in the corridor. He hoped she would find a ladder and climb it soon.
"Holiday," Laura demanded to the room full of Gaius groupies. "Celebrate."
Laura wanted to make sure Gaius understood that this holiday was not celebrating him or his greasy hair.
"I hear your voice," Gaius said from his pile of pillows and harem wenches. "It's like an angel sighing."
"I have no choice, I hear your voice," Laura said, and Bill interpreted her mannerisms to be quite irritable. It was a good thing there wasn't an airlock nearby. He chuckled at the old joke that was still funny to everyone. Laura glared at him angrily and he quieted. He couldn't blame her for being irritable. Hearing that frakweasel's voice set him off too. Plus, they still had not managed to come together and release their pressure. He hoped they could rectify that situation post haste. Maybe rectifiably.
"I close my eyes," Gaius continued, rising on his feet and raising his hands. "Oh Gods, I think I'm falling... out of the sky, I close my eyes."
"Heavens, help me," Laura hissed, yanking on Bill's arm as she stormed away.
What the frak is he on. We haven't seen a sky for years. Bill didn't get Baltar, but he didn't mind Laura jerking him around all day.
As they walked in a harried rush down one of Galactica's corridors, Bill's hand glued to the small of Laura's back, Gaeta emerged from a side causeway. Bill greeted him with a nod as he took the latest fuel consumption report from the young lieutenant.
"Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they're okay," Gaeta said as he walked along with them, a little bit of spunk in his step. Laura shot him a confused look. Bill was not confused at all; in fact, it had seemed glaringly obvious to him for quite some time that Gaeta was into boys. "If they don't give me proper credit, I just walk away."
"Express yourself," Bill said, handing the report back to Gaeta. "So you can respect yourself."
"You deserve the best in life," Laura agreed. "So if the time isn't right then move on. Second best is never enough. You'll do much better, baby, on your own."
Gaeta studied them curiously and then left. Bill decided to go to the CIC to do some hardcore admiralling and invited Laura to make herself at home in his quarters. It was completely chivalrous of him and he did not have any ulterior motives, as usual. She agreed, most likely because of how honorable she knew his intentions were.
When Bill returned to his quarters later, he found Laura pacing, barefoot, ripping up index cards and breaking pencils all over his cabin, muttering to herself. "Greta Garbo, and Monroe. Dietrich and DiMaggio."
Bill frowned. She was doing it again - reciting names from the Olympic Carrier. She did it whenever she felt particularly stressed or guilty.
"Grace Kelly, Harlow, Jean," and something... about a beauty queen? "Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers," she mumbled something else that sounded like "dance on air," and Bill just sighed. He wondered idly why she said some of the names last name, first name, and whether or not Gene and Grace Kelly were related. He really wished Laura would get over it already - after all, a whole lot of shit had happened since then, and even his emo son didn't fret over the Olympic Carrier this much. Besides, carrying around guilt for years was his job, as explicitly described in their Fleet job descriptions, and he didn't need Laura moving in on his territory. He asked her what was wrong, and she confessed that she hadn't gotten any plans made for 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.'
"Rescue me," she pleaded.
Bill smiled and told her his idea for a gathering on the hangar deck. Those were always popular. Laura wondered what they would chant this time. She smiled back, sighing as he took her in his arms. "With you I'm not a fascist, can't play you like a toy," she said. She began unbuttoning his uniform. "And when I need to dominate you're not my little boy."
Bill leaned in and kissed her, hard. Now she was talking. "I got the moves, baby, you've got the motion." He pushed her jacket to the floor. "If we got together we'd be causing a commotion."
Laura moaned in response. "If you want it, you already got it."
They finished undressing quickly, and fell onto the couch in a passionate frenzy. "Say the word, and I will give you what you want," Bill promised in his gravelly baritone.
"Come on, boy," Laura panted, tilting her hips up to meet him.
Bill pressed his average length but extremely thick cock into her with a groan. "Like a virgin...touched for the very first time."
He wasn't sure if he was taking about himself or Laura.
"Been saving it all for you," Laura breathed.
He knew THAT was a lie, but he didn't care at that point.
Laura curled her legs around his waist and emitted soft, throaty whimpers, interspersed with low, satisfied hums.
"Feels so good inside," Bill groaned, low and growly. Damn near gruffly.
"Keep it up, keep it up," Laura demanded, kicking his firm ass with her heel.
"If I take you from behind, push myself into your mind," Bill spoke as he thrust into her, "when you least expect it, will you try and reject it?"
Laura groaned as she turned over for him. "There's a certain satisfaction in a little bit of pain," she murmured as she gazed over her shoulder.
"I'll give you love. I'll hit you like a truck," he growled as he entered her again. Like a frakkin' truck.
"Please don't call a doctor, 'cause there's nothing wrong with me," Laura pleaded. "I just like things a little rough and you'd better not disagree."
Disagree? Bill thought. Frak, no. They came together in a frenzy of passionate shouts and sweatied limbs, then paused and looked deep into each others' eyes. "Oh, Baby," Bill sighed.
Laura nodded, suddenly overcome by emotion. "Don't you know, don't you know that it's - "
"True love," Bill said, cupping her cheek. Her ass cheek. Because he was still behind her.
Just then, their tender moment was interrupted by the buzz of the comm unit. Adama grabbed it, swore, then slammed it down again. "I'm out of time. I only got four minutes to save the world." Again. He was frakking tired of it.
Laura was left staring after him as he ran for the hatch. She called out to him, reminding him that he was still naked. He thanked her, and put his clothes on.
3 minutes, now.
Bill got to CIC only to discover that the crisis had been resolved, again, before he got there. Baseship attack his ass. Saul explained it had just been a cloud of space dust. He started to suspect that Saul was only trying to interrupt his attempts to sex up the President. Saul's smirk did not help his suspicions any.
"She's trouble, in a word, get closer to the fire," Saul said to his oldest friend.
Bill fumed. How dare his XO talk about Laura like that? Storming out, he went to prepare his oddly inspirational speech for 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day.' It needed to mention something about the past, and honoring the dead, but in a jovial way. Just as he reached the door, though, he spun around, and barked an order back into CIC. "Holiday! Celebrate!"
They barked back So Say We All. Cheerily.
He walked into his quarters and Laura was gone. Figures. Frakkin' sucks. He picked up his whiskey and plopped down on the couch.
"Bad girl, drunk by six," he growled as he drank until he passed out; but like a man, he handled his liquor well.
'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' dawned bright and early the next morning. Or at least it would have if there was dawn in outer space. Bill strode down to the hangar deck, passing Tigh, Chief, Tory, and Sam Anders, who were walking together like some sort of bizarre posse.
"Where's the party?" Anders asked, looking around in awe.
"I want to free my soul," Tory concurred.
"Where's the party?" demanded Chief.
"I want to lose control," Saul finished.
Bill just stared. What the hell had Chief been brewing up now? They seemed to have all lost their minds. Frak it, let them. Today was about the good times, not the crazy times.
He continued on to the hangar deck, spotting Laura across the room. He resisted the urge to run to her, especially since she was talking to Zarek, that frakking terrorist. Why the hell was he still wearing that red jumpsuit?
"If you gave me half a chance, you'd see, my desire burning inside of me," Zarek was pleading to a very annoyed Laura.
Bill fumed and decided to roll a hard six. He was going to make sure that everyone knew that Laura was his, and his alone. He called everyone together to start the celebration and strode to the stage, glaring at Zarek until he went and sat down, his lower lip trembling. "The show is over. Say goodbye," Bill snapped.
Bill grabbed the microphone and turned to Laura. "You must be my lucky star, 'cause you shine on me wherever you are."
Laura beamed. "I'm the luckiest by far," she replied with a giggle.
Bill grinned. That was just the response he'd been hoping for. He dropped to one knee and asked Laura to marry him.
"I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there," he said, his voice gruff and low.
She immediately agreed, crying, "I'm crazy for you."
A man of action, Bill decided they should get married right on the spot. Getting spontaneously married had never gone wrongly for him before, so why change now?
He called for Baltar to come, so to speak, and make himself useful. Laura had a moment of hesitation about getting married by someone who believed in the One True God instead of the Whole Bunch Of True Gods, but decided that it didn't matter. Chief erected a quick pulpit using some scrap metal from a busted Viper and everybody stood in front of it, waiting with bated breath and unprecedented anticipation. Racetrack, Seelix and Kat even made some tissue-paper flowers for Laura. Nobody wondered if there was a conflict of interest in joining the head of the military and the protectorate of the civilian population in a blessed union.
Baltar, wearing his magnificent purple robes and flanked by his choir of harem girls, began to unite Bill and Laura in marriage. Bill stood in his dress grays and sash and Laura in her lavender suit with the short skirt from the day of the attacks - none of that blue and white decommissioning ceremony crap, which made Bill so happy. And not that gods-awful gray thing with the high collar and the weird ruffle on the butt. Why Laura would cover her butt with anything, he did not know. Oh, and thank the Lords of Kobol she wasn't wearing that shapeless pullover sweater jumper whatthefrakever thing from New Caprica. He made sure that thing stayed where it belonged--on the ground. He did toy with the idea of dragging the entire fleet back to New Caprica to rescue that little red number she'd worn, but decided against it.
"Let love shine, and we will find a way to come together and make things better," Baltar proclaimed. "Express yourself."
That meant it was time to exchange hastily prepared wedding vows.
"I've had other guys. I've looked into their eyes," Laura began passionately.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
"But I never knew love before, 'til you walked through my door," she finished, putting her hand over her lips, her eyes shining with tears.
A satisfied 'ooooh' then reverberated through the room. Bill smiled.
Bill pulled her close, sliding his arms around her waist. "I've had other lips. I've sailed a thousand ships. But no matter where I go, you're the one for me, baby, this I know, 'cause it's..."
"True love," the choir of harem girls sang with much bravado, their voices echoing through the hangar bay.
"You're the one I'm dreaming of," Laura whispered, putting her warm, soft, small hand on his cheek.
"Your heart fits me like a glove," Bill responded. Not exactly what he wanted to say, but he wanted to use the appropriate euphemism given their audience.
Laura smiled knowingly. "And I'm gonna be... true blue, baby, I love you."
"I love you," Bill repeated, his heart swelling. Well, not just his heart. Maybe people wouldn't notice. The increase in flashes popping, however, indicated that perhaps they had.
Laura kissed him square on the mouth, looking into his true blue eyes.
"True love, baby," the choir swooned.
They kissed more and everyone looked away uncomfortably, except for some people - oddly, they all seemed to be women - in the way back who were jumping up and down and cheering and making high-pitched squealing noises.
"Holiday! Celebration!" the choir sang. Bill was not much into choirs and that choir was getting frakking annoying, but at least he was kissing Laura.
"Come together in every nation," Laura announced when they broke off their kiss. Bill hoped those were her honeymoon plans. This was the best 'Good Times, Not Bad Times Day' ever.
Thousands of balloons were released as Bill and Laura boarded their nuptual Raptor. Kara and Lee had tied tin cans to the back and spraypainted 'Just Married' on the rear tail.
Once on their way, Bill realized that they had nowhere to go, as there was no habitable planet anywhere nearby. No matter. He jumped far enough away that Starbuck wouldn't be flying by and spying on them, then opened his bag and brought out the item he'd saved for this moment. Very, very slowly, he began to read from the pages.
Laura sighed. While she did love it when he read to her veeeeeery slowly, right now she wanted more than just metaphorical frakking. It was, after all, their honeymoon. Besides, she was tired of this damn story about the raft and its hoped-for seaworthiness, especially since Bill refused to read the ending, where they actually determined the seaworthiness of the raft. "Give it up and let me have my way," she purred.
Bill was only too happy to comply. "Touch my body, and move in time. Now I know you're mine."
Laura hummed her agreement. "Now I know you're mine."
And they lived happily ever after. Because that's how everything ends.
Happily.