Abi Normal
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Summary: Bill and Saul spend time with their daughter at the end of the day.
Notes: For plaid_slytherin, who wanted fluffy Bill/Saul. A companion to A Most Precious Thing. This took a ridiculous amount of time, (life!) and there's a tiny dash of angst, but I couldn't help it, okay?
-
Bill knew things could be worse, a lot worse, and a part of him almost wanted to feel guilty about that. About the people, cramped on board ships only meant for short term travel. About the families who were no longer whole. Then his daughter would coo, or smile, or drool all over his hand as she tried to gnaw on it, and he couldn't help but feel grateful. That he did have a home for her, no matter how small. That his family was still together.
Saul moved around the desk, cleaning up discarded bibs that had never been picked up after Abigail's last feeding.
She shrieked loudly, and Bill turned his eyes back to her.
"She knows your mind is wandering, old man."
"Your father is very distracting." Bill bounced the knee he had her on, and her eyes opened wide with surprise.
"That's nothing she needs to hear about."
"He also has a mind like a gutter. Don't take after him."
She stuffed her fist into her mouth, and a long line of drool made its way past her lips onto the pants of his uniform.
"Follow your dad's footsteps, that is a good piece of advice."
"Don't follow in either of our footsteps." He brushed his fingers over the soft smattering of dark hair on top of her head, and she gave him her gummy smile of approval.
"That's even better." Saul dropped himself onto the couch, setting a half full bottle onto the table in front of him.
Abigail heard the sound, and tried to twist around to see what it was.
"It isn't dinner time yet, little one."
She took her spit covered hand from her mouth and wrapped her fingers around one of Bill's.
"Don't tell her that." Saul smiled, tucking his dog tags into his tanks. His uniform jacket was hanging off the back of one of the armchairs, a small attempt to keep it out of harms way from baby byproducts.
Bill had barely managed to unbutton his before being handed their daughter and told to sit. He supposed the exhaustion was written on his face. Someone who wanted to take care of him. Another thing to be grateful for.
"When's the last time you've eaten?"
Bill smiled, knowing that subtlety wasn't Saul's strong suit.
"Even Admiral's have to eat. Should I order something from the galley?"
"I ate on Colonial One." He wagged his finger and Abigail's grip tightened as she brought it into her mouth to chew on. "Billy seems to be under the impression that if someone eats with her, Laura will gain her appetite."
"Kid's heart is in the right place, I suppose."
Something must have showed on his face, for Saul continued on quickly.
"Have you got a glimpse of Abi's chompers yet?"
"I've felt them." One was making repeated contact with his fingernail.
"I've been trying to find teething rings, or just something clean for her to chew on. Other than us, that is."
"We'll find something."
Abigail took his finger from her mouth and held it above her head, as if proclaiming she already had.
"Yea, yea, gods as your witness, you'll chew on us as much as you can."
Bill smiled at Saul's interpretation, and she screamed her approval at his new expression. That his daughter was happy, that was something he almost wanted to pray for the gods in thanks for. At least one of his children was.
"Here, I'll take her."
"I can feed her."
The same old song and dance between the two of them when it came to her care. There was a lot less back and forth concerning who got to change her diapers.
"You need to get ready for bed."
Bill sighed, conceding, and handed their daughter off; catching Saul in a kiss as he did so. Abigail smacked her spit sticky hands together and once the kiss broke, Bill pressed one to her forehead.
"You get one too." He pushed himself up from the couch and handed the bottle to Saul before moving towards the head. Unbuttoning his jacket as he walked, Bill knew he was absolutely grateful that he had something normal to end his day on.
Summary: Bill and Saul spend time with their daughter at the end of the day.
Notes: For plaid_slytherin, who wanted fluffy Bill/Saul. A companion to A Most Precious Thing. This took a ridiculous amount of time, (life!) and there's a tiny dash of angst, but I couldn't help it, okay?
-
Bill knew things could be worse, a lot worse, and a part of him almost wanted to feel guilty about that. About the people, cramped on board ships only meant for short term travel. About the families who were no longer whole. Then his daughter would coo, or smile, or drool all over his hand as she tried to gnaw on it, and he couldn't help but feel grateful. That he did have a home for her, no matter how small. That his family was still together.
Saul moved around the desk, cleaning up discarded bibs that had never been picked up after Abigail's last feeding.
She shrieked loudly, and Bill turned his eyes back to her.
"She knows your mind is wandering, old man."
"Your father is very distracting." Bill bounced the knee he had her on, and her eyes opened wide with surprise.
"That's nothing she needs to hear about."
"He also has a mind like a gutter. Don't take after him."
She stuffed her fist into her mouth, and a long line of drool made its way past her lips onto the pants of his uniform.
"Follow your dad's footsteps, that is a good piece of advice."
"Don't follow in either of our footsteps." He brushed his fingers over the soft smattering of dark hair on top of her head, and she gave him her gummy smile of approval.
"That's even better." Saul dropped himself onto the couch, setting a half full bottle onto the table in front of him.
Abigail heard the sound, and tried to twist around to see what it was.
"It isn't dinner time yet, little one."
She took her spit covered hand from her mouth and wrapped her fingers around one of Bill's.
"Don't tell her that." Saul smiled, tucking his dog tags into his tanks. His uniform jacket was hanging off the back of one of the armchairs, a small attempt to keep it out of harms way from baby byproducts.
Bill had barely managed to unbutton his before being handed their daughter and told to sit. He supposed the exhaustion was written on his face. Someone who wanted to take care of him. Another thing to be grateful for.
"When's the last time you've eaten?"
Bill smiled, knowing that subtlety wasn't Saul's strong suit.
"Even Admiral's have to eat. Should I order something from the galley?"
"I ate on Colonial One." He wagged his finger and Abigail's grip tightened as she brought it into her mouth to chew on. "Billy seems to be under the impression that if someone eats with her, Laura will gain her appetite."
"Kid's heart is in the right place, I suppose."
Something must have showed on his face, for Saul continued on quickly.
"Have you got a glimpse of Abi's chompers yet?"
"I've felt them." One was making repeated contact with his fingernail.
"I've been trying to find teething rings, or just something clean for her to chew on. Other than us, that is."
"We'll find something."
Abigail took his finger from her mouth and held it above her head, as if proclaiming she already had.
"Yea, yea, gods as your witness, you'll chew on us as much as you can."
Bill smiled at Saul's interpretation, and she screamed her approval at his new expression. That his daughter was happy, that was something he almost wanted to pray for the gods in thanks for. At least one of his children was.
"Here, I'll take her."
"I can feed her."
The same old song and dance between the two of them when it came to her care. There was a lot less back and forth concerning who got to change her diapers.
"You need to get ready for bed."
Bill sighed, conceding, and handed their daughter off; catching Saul in a kiss as he did so. Abigail smacked her spit sticky hands together and once the kiss broke, Bill pressed one to her forehead.
"You get one too." He pushed himself up from the couch and handed the bottle to Saul before moving towards the head. Unbuttoning his jacket as he walked, Bill knew he was absolutely grateful that he had something normal to end his day on.