Blindsided, Traces, Solid
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Summary: Three ficlets in a universe where Laura is blind.
-
Blindsided
Saul swore, and Bill looked up from the pile of reports towards his XO. The Colonel was rubbing his shin as the president stepped through the hatch.
“Sorry Colonel, didn't know you were there.”
The end of her cane swept towards him again, and he artfully dodged out of the way.
He grumbled something unintelligible before quickly marching away. Laura smirked, smartly stepping out of her shoes and collapsing her folding cane.
“Must you insist on tormenting my crew, Madame President?” He teased.
“How else am I supposed to get him to leave?” Stretching out her hands, her fingers quickly traced the lock on the hatch before closing it.
“You could order him out,” he reasoned.
“But then everyone would know I want him gone.” She quickly countered. “I think it's better if they think he left in order to leave to me trip around on my own, rather than being told to go.”
Bill abandoned the pile of work on his desk and strode towards her. “You never trip.”
“I know,” she huffed. “Everyone just likes to assume that I will without them watching me.”
“You don't?”
She swatted her cane at him, but he caught the end of the walking aide easily, she hadn't swung hard. He tugged, and she stepped forward until she could lay her free hand on his chest.
“I'm not giving up that easily, Adama.”
“You never do.”
Bill leaned forward and kissed her, snaking one arm around her waist to press his palm into her lower back. Laura hummed encouragingly, fingers digging into his chest. He tried to take the cane as his tongue slipped past her lips, but she held tight, smacking it into his side in retribution for his treachery. He pulled back with a startled yelp, and Laura chuckled, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. She nipped lightly at his skin, tongue trailing the line of his jaw, as anything lower was blocked by the collar of his uniform.
“You best take that off, solider.” She tugged at the buttons of his uniform, but left the undressing to him.
“Yes ma'am.” His fingers followed the command but his eyes stayed on her as she stepped back, making her way towards the couch.
Laura propped her cane at its end, and began unbuttoning her own jacket. Removing the top of his uniform, he put it on the back of a chair before following after her.
She flopped down onto the couch, tucking her legs under her. “Where were we?”
Bill picked up their currently selection, knowing she wasn't referring to their undressing, and took his customary seat at her side. Laura immediately molded herself to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He remembered the day she had told him she had brought only one book with her, and that it would likely be the last she could ever read. The availability of other braille print books within the fleet being highly unlikely. She had loitered by the shelves in his quarters, running her hands across their spines. Eventually, when their relationship was less tenuous and formal, she had admitted to loving the smell and feel.
Now that they had surpassed friendship and had managed to become lovers, Bill was pleased that she allowed him to read to her. A concession she had only allowed others in the past for work, over the necessity of getting information from the innumerable reports that crossed her desk. Their private readings had evolved from the small breaks they took during overly long briefings. Eventually, Laura just began scheduling time for these sessions along with their regular meetings.
As he put on his glasses, her fingers tapped an impatient beat on his thigh. He chuckled at that and she poked him in the belly. Hard.
“Ow. Keep that up and I won't read anything.”
Her hand slid over his knee, soothing, then began trailing its way up his inner thigh.
“Keep that up and I definitely won't be reading anything.”
Laura removed her hand, and Bill suddenly questioned why he had asked her to stop in the first place. Then he quickly reminded himself this time wasn't for him, not that he didn't take great pleasure from it anyway. The reading was for Laura, who through his words, was able to see. She had whispered as much to him one night in his rack, thinking him asleep. That she had never realized just how vivid the world could be before she had heard it constructed through his voice.
He loved that he could do that for her. Show her their world, and the worlds created in their books, and infuse them with a true spark of life. To simply create something for her to experience that was enjoyable amidst all their heartache and worry.
“Well?” Laura prodded, and he opened the book to where they had last left off.
Bill took a breath to start reading, but suddenly he felt as if he had been sent through a launch tube, and the air escaped him. It was a sudden revelation, yet such a simple thing that he began to wonder how he hadn't realized it before.
He was in love with Laura.
Coughing to cover up his pause, he began reading proper.
“Chapter Two, The Pool of Tears. “Curiouser and curiouser!” Cried Alice...”
-
Traces
Laura's fingers shook as she reached out her hand, and she hesitated before laying them on his face. Bill's skin felt incredibly warm under her touch, and she shivered; despite being curled up at his side. To fit in his rack with him, she was practically on top of him, one leg resting between both of his, while she tried to keep her knee from poking into any unpleasant places. Her chest normally rested on his, his shoulder her complimentary pillow, but at the moment she was propped up on one elbow, leaving him more exposed to her wandering hand.
Her forefinger traced the ridge of his cheek bone, and she paused, breathless, as he shifted in his sleep. The arm wrapped around her tensed, and she felt his fingers dig into her upper thigh briefly before he relaxed again. Letting out a slow breath, she resumed her exploration of the scars and crevices on the man's face.
When she had first asked to see him, he had been patient, letting her hands roam as she willed; but she has still felt him tense when her fingers strayed over certain scars, or got too close to his eyes. Laura had many times since the first to learn the contours of Bill, and not just from his face. Still, she preferred the quiet moments when he was asleep, when every inch of him was relaxed and ready to satisfy her curiosity.
Her hand wandered on, down to his lips, parted softly in sleep. Laura hovered her hand over his mouth, letting his breath gather on her fingertips. A very basic function, but she relished every sign that pointed towards this man being alive. The heat from his body, the steady pulse in his veins, the breath in his lungs. Every sigh and grunt as he slept, reminding her that he was still there. Still able to wake up, kiss her, speak to her. His voice was the one thing she missed while he slept, and often she was only tempted to rest in the hopes of hearing it, of finding the worlds he created with it while she dreamed.
Laura's hand left his face, trailing down the hollow of his throat, over a collarbone, across his pectoral and finally resting on the rough scar that bisected his chest. Her heart sped up just recalling the day he had received that injury. The panic, confusion, and endless noise. The scar on her shoulder seemed to burn, as if reminding her she should have taken that round to the chest. She leaned forward carefully and kissed the top of the scar, letting her lips brush against his jaw as she sat back up.
She wanted to ask after every blemish she hadn't been privy too, listen to his voice as he wove the tale of how he got a particular scar, or broken a bone; wanted to know why stubble never graced his cheek. Laura wanted to know about every little trace living life had left on Bill. She wanted to know if he could feel her under his skin, that if she searched long enough, if she would find herself there.
She lowered herself down from her elbow, resting her head back on his shoulder. Laura breathed him in, running her hand across his chest before stilling it above his heart.
“Love you,” she murmured into his ear.
-
Solid
His fingers brushed against her jaw, upward along her cheek, then higher still before they tangled in her hair. People had described the tresses as red and silky in the past, but he spoke of sunsets, low burning fires, the warmth and color infused in a lover's body after sex; and the soft wind from the bay he used to sail in. He always shaped her body with worlds that no longer existed.
He pulled at her drifting attention as his fingers dug into her scalp, tugging at the strands, forcing her forward so that her mouth crashed into his. His tongue broke past her lips, soothing her own as if to take away the bitter taste that still lingered there. His free hand ghosted down her side, making a shiver trail after it. Her body still shook, was still present. Every move was to remind her he was there, and every touch that she was too. Sometimes she feared she would drift too far in her dreams, where even his words would not be able to bring her back. Where his touch would stay a phantom memory.
The kiss broke, and as if sensing the turn in her thoughts, he put one arm around her waist, the other across her shoulders, and pulled her flush against him. Chasing away the cold solitary thoughts with simple heat, his presence.
Her breath caught, and with him pressed so close, she struggled to regain it, reinforcing the boundaries in her body. One of his hands trailed down her spine while the other caressed her ass as she relearned how to breathe. A necessary function she did not hold to when oceans overtook her mind.
His mouth latched onto the scar on her shoulder, sucking the blemish, then biting down until it was almost painful.
She moaned, a low sound from her belly that sparked a heat in her numbed nerves.
She clutched her fingers, but left them at her side, still feeling too disconnected to use them.
His palms had settled on her hips, and his hands kept her close, the juncture of her thighs pressed strongly into his leg. The pulse in her body seemed to start from that contact, quickening as it traveled farther through her body.
His mouth drifted from her shoulder to her neck, he hovered over her skin a moment, and she learned the rhythm of his breath before his lips pressed against the corner of her parted ones.
His hands abandoned her hips, catching her wrists and soothing his thumbs across the tense knuckles. When her fingers relaxed, he quickly laced his own through them, squeezing their palms together.
He rested his forehead against hers and sighed, “Laura.”
Releasing her hands, he let them snake around him of their own accord before carefully wrapping her in his own loose embrace. She clutched at his back, suddenly feeling gravity's heavy pull on her limbs.
“Bill.”
Still here. Still them. Still breathing. The last of her dreams fell away with her sudden tears.
She had a body to come home to, and was not just another lost soul drifting among the stars.
Summary: Three ficlets in a universe where Laura is blind.
-
Blindsided
Saul swore, and Bill looked up from the pile of reports towards his XO. The Colonel was rubbing his shin as the president stepped through the hatch.
“Sorry Colonel, didn't know you were there.”
The end of her cane swept towards him again, and he artfully dodged out of the way.
He grumbled something unintelligible before quickly marching away. Laura smirked, smartly stepping out of her shoes and collapsing her folding cane.
“Must you insist on tormenting my crew, Madame President?” He teased.
“How else am I supposed to get him to leave?” Stretching out her hands, her fingers quickly traced the lock on the hatch before closing it.
“You could order him out,” he reasoned.
“But then everyone would know I want him gone.” She quickly countered. “I think it's better if they think he left in order to leave to me trip around on my own, rather than being told to go.”
Bill abandoned the pile of work on his desk and strode towards her. “You never trip.”
“I know,” she huffed. “Everyone just likes to assume that I will without them watching me.”
“You don't?”
She swatted her cane at him, but he caught the end of the walking aide easily, she hadn't swung hard. He tugged, and she stepped forward until she could lay her free hand on his chest.
“I'm not giving up that easily, Adama.”
“You never do.”
Bill leaned forward and kissed her, snaking one arm around her waist to press his palm into her lower back. Laura hummed encouragingly, fingers digging into his chest. He tried to take the cane as his tongue slipped past her lips, but she held tight, smacking it into his side in retribution for his treachery. He pulled back with a startled yelp, and Laura chuckled, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. She nipped lightly at his skin, tongue trailing the line of his jaw, as anything lower was blocked by the collar of his uniform.
“You best take that off, solider.” She tugged at the buttons of his uniform, but left the undressing to him.
“Yes ma'am.” His fingers followed the command but his eyes stayed on her as she stepped back, making her way towards the couch.
Laura propped her cane at its end, and began unbuttoning her own jacket. Removing the top of his uniform, he put it on the back of a chair before following after her.
She flopped down onto the couch, tucking her legs under her. “Where were we?”
Bill picked up their currently selection, knowing she wasn't referring to their undressing, and took his customary seat at her side. Laura immediately molded herself to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He remembered the day she had told him she had brought only one book with her, and that it would likely be the last she could ever read. The availability of other braille print books within the fleet being highly unlikely. She had loitered by the shelves in his quarters, running her hands across their spines. Eventually, when their relationship was less tenuous and formal, she had admitted to loving the smell and feel.
Now that they had surpassed friendship and had managed to become lovers, Bill was pleased that she allowed him to read to her. A concession she had only allowed others in the past for work, over the necessity of getting information from the innumerable reports that crossed her desk. Their private readings had evolved from the small breaks they took during overly long briefings. Eventually, Laura just began scheduling time for these sessions along with their regular meetings.
As he put on his glasses, her fingers tapped an impatient beat on his thigh. He chuckled at that and she poked him in the belly. Hard.
“Ow. Keep that up and I won't read anything.”
Her hand slid over his knee, soothing, then began trailing its way up his inner thigh.
“Keep that up and I definitely won't be reading anything.”
Laura removed her hand, and Bill suddenly questioned why he had asked her to stop in the first place. Then he quickly reminded himself this time wasn't for him, not that he didn't take great pleasure from it anyway. The reading was for Laura, who through his words, was able to see. She had whispered as much to him one night in his rack, thinking him asleep. That she had never realized just how vivid the world could be before she had heard it constructed through his voice.
He loved that he could do that for her. Show her their world, and the worlds created in their books, and infuse them with a true spark of life. To simply create something for her to experience that was enjoyable amidst all their heartache and worry.
“Well?” Laura prodded, and he opened the book to where they had last left off.
Bill took a breath to start reading, but suddenly he felt as if he had been sent through a launch tube, and the air escaped him. It was a sudden revelation, yet such a simple thing that he began to wonder how he hadn't realized it before.
He was in love with Laura.
Coughing to cover up his pause, he began reading proper.
“Chapter Two, The Pool of Tears. “Curiouser and curiouser!” Cried Alice...”
-
Traces
Laura's fingers shook as she reached out her hand, and she hesitated before laying them on his face. Bill's skin felt incredibly warm under her touch, and she shivered; despite being curled up at his side. To fit in his rack with him, she was practically on top of him, one leg resting between both of his, while she tried to keep her knee from poking into any unpleasant places. Her chest normally rested on his, his shoulder her complimentary pillow, but at the moment she was propped up on one elbow, leaving him more exposed to her wandering hand.
Her forefinger traced the ridge of his cheek bone, and she paused, breathless, as he shifted in his sleep. The arm wrapped around her tensed, and she felt his fingers dig into her upper thigh briefly before he relaxed again. Letting out a slow breath, she resumed her exploration of the scars and crevices on the man's face.
When she had first asked to see him, he had been patient, letting her hands roam as she willed; but she has still felt him tense when her fingers strayed over certain scars, or got too close to his eyes. Laura had many times since the first to learn the contours of Bill, and not just from his face. Still, she preferred the quiet moments when he was asleep, when every inch of him was relaxed and ready to satisfy her curiosity.
Her hand wandered on, down to his lips, parted softly in sleep. Laura hovered her hand over his mouth, letting his breath gather on her fingertips. A very basic function, but she relished every sign that pointed towards this man being alive. The heat from his body, the steady pulse in his veins, the breath in his lungs. Every sigh and grunt as he slept, reminding her that he was still there. Still able to wake up, kiss her, speak to her. His voice was the one thing she missed while he slept, and often she was only tempted to rest in the hopes of hearing it, of finding the worlds he created with it while she dreamed.
Laura's hand left his face, trailing down the hollow of his throat, over a collarbone, across his pectoral and finally resting on the rough scar that bisected his chest. Her heart sped up just recalling the day he had received that injury. The panic, confusion, and endless noise. The scar on her shoulder seemed to burn, as if reminding her she should have taken that round to the chest. She leaned forward carefully and kissed the top of the scar, letting her lips brush against his jaw as she sat back up.
She wanted to ask after every blemish she hadn't been privy too, listen to his voice as he wove the tale of how he got a particular scar, or broken a bone; wanted to know why stubble never graced his cheek. Laura wanted to know about every little trace living life had left on Bill. She wanted to know if he could feel her under his skin, that if she searched long enough, if she would find herself there.
She lowered herself down from her elbow, resting her head back on his shoulder. Laura breathed him in, running her hand across his chest before stilling it above his heart.
“Love you,” she murmured into his ear.
-
Solid
His fingers brushed against her jaw, upward along her cheek, then higher still before they tangled in her hair. People had described the tresses as red and silky in the past, but he spoke of sunsets, low burning fires, the warmth and color infused in a lover's body after sex; and the soft wind from the bay he used to sail in. He always shaped her body with worlds that no longer existed.
He pulled at her drifting attention as his fingers dug into her scalp, tugging at the strands, forcing her forward so that her mouth crashed into his. His tongue broke past her lips, soothing her own as if to take away the bitter taste that still lingered there. His free hand ghosted down her side, making a shiver trail after it. Her body still shook, was still present. Every move was to remind her he was there, and every touch that she was too. Sometimes she feared she would drift too far in her dreams, where even his words would not be able to bring her back. Where his touch would stay a phantom memory.
The kiss broke, and as if sensing the turn in her thoughts, he put one arm around her waist, the other across her shoulders, and pulled her flush against him. Chasing away the cold solitary thoughts with simple heat, his presence.
Her breath caught, and with him pressed so close, she struggled to regain it, reinforcing the boundaries in her body. One of his hands trailed down her spine while the other caressed her ass as she relearned how to breathe. A necessary function she did not hold to when oceans overtook her mind.
His mouth latched onto the scar on her shoulder, sucking the blemish, then biting down until it was almost painful.
She moaned, a low sound from her belly that sparked a heat in her numbed nerves.
She clutched her fingers, but left them at her side, still feeling too disconnected to use them.
His palms had settled on her hips, and his hands kept her close, the juncture of her thighs pressed strongly into his leg. The pulse in her body seemed to start from that contact, quickening as it traveled farther through her body.
His mouth drifted from her shoulder to her neck, he hovered over her skin a moment, and she learned the rhythm of his breath before his lips pressed against the corner of her parted ones.
His hands abandoned her hips, catching her wrists and soothing his thumbs across the tense knuckles. When her fingers relaxed, he quickly laced his own through them, squeezing their palms together.
He rested his forehead against hers and sighed, “Laura.”
Releasing her hands, he let them snake around him of their own accord before carefully wrapping her in his own loose embrace. She clutched at his back, suddenly feeling gravity's heavy pull on her limbs.
“Bill.”
Still here. Still them. Still breathing. The last of her dreams fell away with her sudden tears.
She had a body to come home to, and was not just another lost soul drifting among the stars.