Jungle Love - Chapter 2, Pt 1
Sex, War Games & That Damned Pig - Rated M
More war games, more jungle planet, more pig...
Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Blah, freakin' blah blah blah.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Also, this story is meant as comic relief and contains no literary value whatsoever. It's just supposed to be fun - so if you're looking for something profound or life changing ... you may want to skip this one, mmkay? ;)
Don't say I didn't warn ya!
~*~*~*~
The next morning on Colonial One…
The three men stood with their hands clasped behind their backs at what Apollo would later laughingly refer to as at ease. The tone in President Laura Roslin’s voice saw to it that no one in the office on Colonial One was the slightest bit at ease.
“What were you thinking, Colonel Tigh?” she said, glaring at him angrily.
“I was thinking the Old Man would kick my ass up one end of Galactica and back if I let you freeze to death on that beach,” Tigh grumbled.
“So by that reasoning I guess you expect me to thank you,” Roslin said icily.
“I never said that,” the Colonel replied.
“Madame President, he did save your life,” Apollo said, always the peacemaker.
“Well forgive me if I don’t swoon, Major,” she snapped. “He also very nearly gave me alcohol poisoning. And in front of half your crew, and just for kicks, a couple very talkative members of the press as well. Members of the press who saw me being carried off a Raptor by Admiral Adama, giggling like some drunken frat girl and,” she paused, clearly trying to remember something, “What did they call it in this morning’s broadcast?”
“I believe the words they used were, ‘Two handfuls of the Admiral’s backside’ Madame President,” Tory supplied.
Laura rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Tory.” She turned her glare back to Tigh. “Do I need to go on?”
“No, Sir,” Tigh answered immediately. “I was there. Saw it myself.”
“We were all there, Saul,” Adama said with a sigh. This was not going well.
“I wasn’t,” Tory added. “Just to clarify.”
“Yes,” Roslin said, “thank you so much, Tory. Can we keep our eye on the ball here, people?”
“Lotta balls in the air right now, Laura,” Adama said before he could think the statement through. “You’ll need to pick one.”
She continued to glare at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“Let’s,” he agreed.
“What I’d like to know, Colonel, is why you happened to have such a handy stash of liquor on your person during survival training.” She folded her arms across her chest, leaning on her desk as she waited for his answer.
Lee scratched his head, obviously uncomfortable, and looked like he was about to say something. One glare from Roslin shut him up.
The senior Adama, however, was a seasoned veteran of the president’s glare and would not be stopped so easily. He stepped forward slightly. “The matter is being handled, Madame President. I’m dealing with it.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you?”
“Yes. It’s a military issue.”
“I see,” said Laura, who didn’t. “Tell that to the press.”
“The press,” Tigh grunted in disgust, “if they don’t have dirt on people they just make shit up anyhow.”
“Well, then, by all means,” Roslin mocked sarcastically, her eyes wide, “let’s just tell them everything, shall we?” She turned to her aide. “Tory, call a press conference immediately.”
“Madame President?” Tory’s dark eyes widened in surprise.
“You heard me. What are you waiting for? Hand me a bottle of Ambrosia so I can get sauced and then get the press over here. We’ll have a frakking free for all.” She slapped her desk with the palm of her hand as if she’d just had the best idea in the universe. “In fact, I’ll go you one better. Admiral, I’m sure someone in the Fleet managed to smuggle some of that wonderful weed off of New Caprica. Remember that? Let’s get some. Let’s get stoned and mess with the reporters’ heads because, as Tigh so eloquently put it - they’ll just make shit up anyway.”
She lifted herself onto her desk and sat, crossing her stocking-clad legs demurely at the knees. “And just for to make sure we make the evening wireless, maybe this time I’ll grab more than your backside. What are we waiting for, gentlemen?”
She’d managed to render everyone in the room speechless. Everyone, that is, except for the Admiral. He, she noted with more than a little annoyance, was fighting to smother a smile.
“Give us the room,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes, Sir,” both his son and XO replied immediately. Tory waited for President Roslin to nod her approval before she rose and all but scampered from the room.
“I think I gave the Gods damned President brain damage,” Saul muttered as they passed through the curtains of her office.
“I heard that Colonel Tigh,” Roslin shouted to him. Her gaze never left Bill’s, though. He simply wouldn’t allow it.
Adama waited patiently for them to leave. He was comfortable with silence. Years of military training had seen to that. When he was sure they were alone he said, “What’s wrong, Laura?”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You have to ask?”
“I’m not buying it,” he said, shaking his head and taking a step closer to her. He tried very hard not to let his gaze drop down to her legs, not an easy task given the view. “You’ve been dealing with the press for years. They’ve said worse things about both of us. It’s never gotten under your skin like this before.”
She shrugged. “First time for everything and all that.”
“Come on, Laura … there’s more to this than a little embarrassment in the media.”
“A little embarrassment?” she gaped at him indignantly. “Is that what you call this? A little embarrassment? I guess you can do that. You weren’t the one the press caught drunk and … with wandering hands.”
He offered her a charming smile. “No, I was definitely the gropee. I can even the score, though.”
“What?”
“You know - restore the balance. If it’ll make you feel better I’d be willing to down a bottle of Tyrol’s rot gut and feel you up in the corridors. You can invite whoever you want.”
She tried to fight the approaching smile and lost. It curled the edges of her mouth becomingly. “That’s very selfless of you, Admiral.”
“I do what I can.”
“Mmm Hmm,” she grinned. “I’ll remember that. In case I ever need a drunken grope in the future.”
“Good,” he said, sitting next to her on the desk. “You wanna tell me what’s really bothering you?”
She grimaced. “It’s really very stupid.”
He rolled his eyes toward her. “Laura…”
“I’m just … I’m tired.” She paused and he waited patiently, knowing she’d have the urge to fill the quiet before he did. She sighed heavily. “What’d you call it once? OBE? Overcome by Events, I believe it was. I’m sick of this ship. I’m sick of the Cylons, sick of feeling deck plating beneath my feet instead of earth, sick of seeing the blackness of space outside my window instead of sunlight, I mean … it’s not even a window anymore, is it? It’s a viewport or some other frakking nautical term, right?”
She blew a frustrated breath through her lips, blowing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “I’m tired of that, too. I want to walk through a door, not a hatch. I want to open a window and feel a breeze on my face. And Lords of Kobol help me, I know how self-indulgent and absolutely ridiculous it sounds, especially given all we’ve lost and how absurd it is that we’re even still alive, but Gods, Bill, I miss sex. I really, really, really miss sex.”
Her green eyes grew wide and her hand flew immediately to her mouth. Obviously she hadn’t meant to share that last bit. At least, not so enthusiastically.
Adama chuckled softly, charmed more than he cared to admit by the flush in her cheeks. He pulled her hand away from her face and cupped it gently between his own. He’d always loved her hands and he touched them every chance he could reasonably get away with it.
“I miss it, too,” he said, folding her fingers between his own.
Chuckling, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Well aren’t we a pair? What would the Fleet think if they knew that the two leaders of humanity were sitting on Colonial One talking about how much they miss getting laid?”
Now he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “That we’re as horny as everybody else.”
She rewarded him with an unrestrained laugh.
“It’s not selfish, Laura. It’s human. Nothing wrong with being human.”
She snorted, a sound he found adorable for some reason. “Tell that to the Cylons.”
“From sex to Cylons in one sentence. Anybody ever tell you you’re a real wet blanket, Roslin?” he chided with a grin.
She looked up at him and he resisted the urge to frown at the loss of her hair against his cheek.
“More times than I can remember.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I guess I’m just trying to keep my tirade from taking this conversation to a place that … perhaps … we’re not quite ready to go just yet.”
Though if she were to be totally honest - she wasn’t sure which one of them wasn’t ready because she knew exactly what she wanted. It was Bill who usually established the parameters of their relationship with the responsibilities speech.
“Okay,” he said agreeably. He patted her affectionately on the knee as he rose to his feet. “But if you want me to stop thinking about sex - you’re gonna have to stop wearing that perfume.”
Roslin regarded him with raised eyebrows and a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “I’m not wearing perfume, Bill.”
“You mean that’s just how you smell?”
She gave him that slow, sexy smile. The one that made his knees dizzy. “I guess so.”
“Well,” he grinned. “Ain’t that a son of a bitch.”
Later that afternoon on Galactica…
You’re always welcome in one of my beds…
Laura tried very hard not to think about that comment, or the man who’d said it for that matter, as she shifted again in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Her aching butt would’ve preferred she stayed in her cushy chair on Colonial One. Her mind was restless, however, and her office smelled like Bill.
A scent that was most definitely not conducive to concentrating.
Not that she was getting much done in this small ready room on Galactica, either…
She wondered briefly who she wanted to kick more, Lee or the creature she’d taken to calling That Damned Pig, as she downed the pain meds Cottle had given her and chased them with a sip of ice water.
Another thing to add to her list of things that she was sick and tired of, she thought. Recycled water … it just didn’t taste right no matter what they did to it. She had to admit being planetside had been nice - even if it hadn’t been Caprica. At least it hadn’t been the blackness and constant chill of deep space.
A quick rap on the hatch interrupted her internal lament.
“Come in.”
Adama was still trying to control his grin when he entered the ready room. But the memory of Laura Roslin giggling and drunk out of her mind from the day before made it pretty tough not to smile. His only regret was that he wasn’t there to see her face when the wild boar slammed into her rather shapely ass. He doubted his son would ever live it down.
Hoped he wouldn’t, actually.
Roslin sat at the desk behind a daunting tower of files. Her dark blue suit was immaculate as always. She eyed him over the rim of her glass as she swallowed a mouthful of water. “Mmm … Admiral, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I came to see if there’s anything I can do for you.” He smiled warmly at her
”We only have one night before we head down for the final phase of the war games and I thought maybe you could use a little help getting caught up.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “You’re joking, right?”
“No,” he shook his head, “I wouldn’t have offered to help if I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, rising to her feet. “I was referring to the war games. You don’t really believe that I have any intention of going back to that ridiculous planet, do you?”
True, she’d just been thinking how nice it had been to be on a planet instead of a spaceship, but he had no way of knowing that.
He removed his glasses and stared at her. “Well, actually, yes … I do. It’s not like you to quit, Laura. Besides, you’re my partner for the next activity. So you can rest assured that you won’t be chasing any wild animals for a meal.”
She walked around her desk and perched herself on the corner in front of him. “Just because I won’t be chasing any animals doesn’t mean they won’t be chasing me.”
He tried not to notice as she crossed her long legs almost right in his face. He would swear on his life that she did that on purpose. Resigned to his fate, he let his eyes take the long way back up to her eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’ll watch your back … so to speak.”
A satisfied grin tugged at her lips. She loved their casual flirting. And their flirting that was not so casual, too. “Yes, I’m sure you will.”
Flash of a grin again. “Does that mean I can count you in?”
She stared at him through narrowed eyes. She wanted to say no, but the twinkle in his blue eyes was damn hard to resist. “It depends. Just what does this next event entail?”
He hesitated momentarily. “It’s the final annihilation round.”
Her eyes widened. Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good. “The annihilation round?”
“Yes. In this event the participants are paired up in teams of two and dropped at a specified area of the planet. Somewhere else in that specified area, another team is also put down. It’s a guerilla mission, search and destroy.”
“You mean we hunt each other?” she asked incredulously.
“Well, that’s one way to put it, I guess. Except instead of side arms we use paint guns. They shoot paintballs that mark your target with red paint instead of-“
“I … know what a paint gun is, Bill.” She glared half-heartedly at him. “I may be a civil servant but I’m not stupid.”
“Of course you’re not, Madame President,” he said in a way that suggested she most certainly was. “The first team to mark their opponents wins.”
Roslin secretly wondered if the entire Fleet had gone insane. “I see,” she said. “And … this sounds fun to you?”
“Actually, yes. You up to it?”
She shook her head emphatically. “Tempting, really. But no, I don’t think so.”
He shrugged indifferently. “Fine. I’ll just tell the others you’re quitting.”
She stood, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now wait just a minute…”
He ignored her and continued. “After that incident with the pig I’m sure they’ll understand. It was enough to scare anyone.” He walked slowly toward the door. “It’s a shame though. As luck would have it - we were against Apollo and Starbuck. Hunting those two down might’ve been fun.”
Hunting Lee? It does have a certain appeal. It certainly wasn’t beneath Bill to tempt her with revenge, and in this case - she’d be damned if it wasn’t working.
“Wait a minute,” she called to the back of his head. “Do you have a plan for this … annihilation?”
When he turned to face her his eyes held a wicked gleam. “As a matter of fact…”
Galactica, 0600 the next morning…
Roslin was panting as she lurched into Galactica’s flight deck, already tired. She felt more than a little ridiculous in the tanks and khaki pants she had borrow from a military storage room, but Bill had insisted she wear the same stuff as the rest of them. She was willing to bet that the backpack and endless equipment he’d strapped to her body weighed more than she did. She sat the pack on the deck and absently pulled her long hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck.
She pretended not to notice the Admiral watching her. It felt good to be watched, after all.
“Are you sure we really need all of this?”
“We’ve been through this, Laura,” he said patiently. “We’re going to be in the wilds of the jungle. You’ll be glad of that equipment once we’re down there.”
“It just seems a little … excessive.”
“Says the woman who packed three bags for an overnight trip to a political function.”
“Considering it ended up being an apocalypse, I think I was conservative.”
He patted her shoulder gently and led them toward the waiting Raptor. “So was I on the supplies considering who my partner is. If you decide to play in the mud with the pigs again, at least we’ll have something to defend ourselves with.”
A wry grin tugged at her lips. “Keep it up, Admiral - and I’ll hunt you when I’m finished with your son and That Damned Pig.”
“Promises, promises…” he muttered quietly under his breath as he stepped into the Raptor.
Laura stepped in after him. She took the seat next to his. As the deck crew closed the hatch she shot him a quick grin. “I heard that.”
Wild Jungle … Pig … Planet (What? I made it up. I can call it that if I want to!) One hour later …
“You’re out of your frakking mind!”
“Come on, Kara,.” Lee pleaded. “Just wear it. You’ll blend in and they’ll have a hard time spotting you.”
Starbuck rolled her. “Look, I only agreed to do this to get my sorry ass off Galactica for a while. It’s not my fault that the President is out to get you. I’m not wearing that fugly hat, I don’t care how much you beg.”
“Starbuck…”
“Never. Gonna. Happen.” She walked away.
Lee shrugged and followed behind her. “Fine, but don’t blame me when my father takes you out with the first shot.”
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “I can handle myself. You just try not to fall into any mud pits or plunge off any steep cliffs and we’ll be fine.”
Apollo rolled his eyes. Clearly he would never live that down. “A guy makes one little mistake…”
“Shhh!” She raised a hand to silence him. She gripped his arm and pulled him to a crouch beside her. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area.
“What is it?” he whispered. He could see nothing.
“I heard something.” She nodded to a dense thicket of trees to her right. “Over there.”
Lee fingered the paint gun holstered to his waist. “Well, let’s go.”
They crawled slowly, painstakingly through the tall grass. They inched forward into the trees trying not to make a sound. She guided led Lee into the bushes. They crouched between the leaves, hidden from view. He looked around the area carefully. He heard nothing, saw nothing.
“Maybe it was an animal,” he whispered.
She shook her head, her blond hair falling into her eyes. “No, it was them.”
Lee eyed her skeptically. “How do you know that?”
Starbuck eyed him with barely contained annoyance. “It’s simple. Look.” She pointed to a tiny scrap of fabric that clung to the branch of a nearby flower bush.
“What is it?”
She rolled her eyes again. “It’s a piece of cloth, genius. Probably ripped from someone’s pants as they ran through here.” She grinned mischievously at him. “I hope you’re a little more observant in your bird, Major. If not I’m amazed the Toasters haven’t smoked your ass by now.”
He shot her an indignant look. “That’s why I hang out with you, Starbuck. Your ever-present charm.”
She ignored him. If she looked closely enough she could almost extrapolate their path through the jungle brush. They were headed southeast. She consulted her map of the area. “They’re heading to the water source. There’s a river about 5 kilometers away, about two or three hours on foot if they stop occasionally to rest. Which they will, cuz they’re old.”
He rose to his feet. “Well let’s go! They’ve got a lead on us. We’ll have to move fast to make up for lost time.”
She grabbed his arm. “No. We aren’t going to follow them.”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “We’re not?”
She plucked the remnant of torn fabric from the branch and examined it carefully. The edges were smooth. It had been cut, not torn. It wasn’t there by accident. “That’s exactly what they want us to do. They want us to follow them.”
He regarded her skeptically. “And … you’re getting all of this from a little piece of fabric?”
“It was put here deliberately. It’s a set up.” She brushed a disobedient lock of hair off her forehead. “The Old Man didn’t survive the first Cylon War by being careless. He knows all about stealth and being stalked by the enemy. It only takes one run in with a pissed off Toaster to make you extinct. Think about it, Lee. He knows better.”
Lee nodded. “True. Roslin’s no slouch either,” he grinned. “I’ve spent enough time with her to know for a fact that she can be downright cunning when she puts her mind to it.”
“Yeah,” Kara chuckled, “And this time, she’s out to get a certain CAG who humiliated her. The President’s been known to hold a grudge. This is personal.”
The CAG in question sighed in resignation. “I’m a dead man.”
Starbuck patted him on the back. “That might be true - if you weren’t fortunate enough to be have the smartest frakker in the whole Colonial military for a partner. So as long as you don’t get a sudden craving for pork chops and run off after some wild pig, you just may survive this little war game of yours.”
“You know, I fell off that frakking cliff right along with her. I mean, the pig chased me too. I hit that water so hard I’m singing high soprano. I’m still waiting for my balls to drop back down out of my stomach.”
Kara folded her arms and flashed him a twisted smile. “That’s a sad story, Lee. Now do you wanna hear the plan? Or do you wanna stand here all day and talk about your balls?”
He groaned inwardly. This humiliation would stay with him forever. “Okay, what’s your plan?”
She glanced at the map one more time and then fixed her gaze on her partner. “We’re going to the water source, too. Only we’re going to come around from the other side.”
“Kara, are you crazy? That’s almost twice the distance. We’ll never beat them there.”
She shrugged. “That’s why we have to run.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Run? All that way?”
“What’s the matter, Daddy’s Boy? Don’t think you can make it? Maybe you’re spending too much time sitting on your ass in your rack. Or maybe you’re just getting old.”
Apollo knew she was egging him on, and he knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait. But his pride was at stake. As he regarded her smug expression, the silent challenge being issued in her eyes, common sense packed its bags and left the premises. Only testosterone and male ego remained. “I’m not worried about me, Thrace. I was just looking out for you. It’s not like there’s a bottle or a naked man waiting for you on the other side so I have to question your motivation.”
She cinched the strap on her pack, making sure it fit snugly against her back. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one who buried the President of the Twelve Colonies in a mud puddle. You just try and keep up.”
Before he could retort, Starbuck took off in a flash through the jungle fronds. With a shrug and a deep sigh he followed at her heels. But as he ran he wondered if death by paintballs wouldn’t actually be a nice alternative to a 12 kilometer run in an alien jungle with Kara Thrace.
*~*~*~*~*