BSG Ficlet: Makeup Lessons (Billy, Laura)
Title: Makeup Lessons
Rating: T
Word Count: 607
Characters: Laura, Billy
Summary: Billy gets a little more than he bargained for during one of the president's lessons on women and their makeup. Written for the 2014 BSG Epics prompt war, prompt was 'beauty.'
“Frak. Can you come here, Billy?”
The aide in question looked toward to curtain of the president’s room with a slight twinge of fear. His boss sounded calm, if annoyed, but the image of her collapsed on the floor or otherwise taken ill flashed across his brain and he moved hurriedly through the room toward the light in the head.
He sighed in relief when he found Roslin, hair damp and still wearing her dressing gown, staring into the depths of a black lipstick container, her bare lips drawn into a tight line.
“I need something long, thin, and pointy,” she said when he cleared his throat to make his presence known. He nodded and turned back to retrieve the needle he’d found on the floor from his desk drawer.
He watched, transfixed, as the president maneuvered the offered object in the hole expertly as if she’d done this very strange ritual before. She made a pleased noise when it reemerged with a red stain which she carefully wiped onto her fingers and then onto her lips.
She smiled at Billy’s reflection without turning around.
“I know it’s ridiculous with everything we’ve been through but I will be upset when I completely run out of lipstick.”
In truth it did seem a little ridiculous, especially since she had another tube sitting right on the counter. When he pointed that out she gave him that look reserved for when she was going to teach him something about women and reached for the second tube to explain.
“Baby’s Got Lips is red and Modesty,” she said, turning the tube so the light pink cylinder emerged from its hiding place,”is not really my color.”
He looked at her as if she’d just grown another head.
“Your lipsticks are called Baby's Got Lips and Modesty, Madame President?”
His attempt to keep a straight face failed at her title and she had to laugh as well.
“Well, lots of beauty products have strange names. Beauty marketers think women are idiots.”
Billy had stepped into the bathroom and was perusing the other little bottles sitting on the counter. He’d been in here before but he’d never felt right looking at what seemed to be the president’s mysterious girly things. He recognized the uses for some of them -- concealer and mascara were easy enough -- but primer and hydrating serum were a little more confusing.
“I can’t believe you had all this in your bag for an overnight business trip,” he commented as his eye was drawn to three separate nail polishes, one clear, one dark purple, and the last a sharp, slightly scandalous red.
He plucked it up and held it out to the president before she could respond, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“Here, Madame President, I bet Commander Adama would like it if you wore this,” he said playfully.
She looked down at the bottle and back up at her aide and he knew she was about to get the upper hand somehow when her eyes sparkled and flashed to grey.
“Oh, I think we’d probably both enjoy it, considering his penchant for throwing me in the brig,” she said, closing her bag nonchalantly.
He lifted his eyebrows in confusion and she grinned.
“Look at the name of that one, Billy,” she instructed.
He flipped it over and he could feel the blood rush from his face against the heat of the president’s expectant gaze.
Of course Laura Roslin would have a nail polish called ‘Cuff Me and Stuff Me.’
Rating: T
Word Count: 607
Characters: Laura, Billy
Summary: Billy gets a little more than he bargained for during one of the president's lessons on women and their makeup. Written for the 2014 BSG Epics prompt war, prompt was 'beauty.'
“Frak. Can you come here, Billy?”
The aide in question looked toward to curtain of the president’s room with a slight twinge of fear. His boss sounded calm, if annoyed, but the image of her collapsed on the floor or otherwise taken ill flashed across his brain and he moved hurriedly through the room toward the light in the head.
He sighed in relief when he found Roslin, hair damp and still wearing her dressing gown, staring into the depths of a black lipstick container, her bare lips drawn into a tight line.
“I need something long, thin, and pointy,” she said when he cleared his throat to make his presence known. He nodded and turned back to retrieve the needle he’d found on the floor from his desk drawer.
He watched, transfixed, as the president maneuvered the offered object in the hole expertly as if she’d done this very strange ritual before. She made a pleased noise when it reemerged with a red stain which she carefully wiped onto her fingers and then onto her lips.
She smiled at Billy’s reflection without turning around.
“I know it’s ridiculous with everything we’ve been through but I will be upset when I completely run out of lipstick.”
In truth it did seem a little ridiculous, especially since she had another tube sitting right on the counter. When he pointed that out she gave him that look reserved for when she was going to teach him something about women and reached for the second tube to explain.
“Baby’s Got Lips is red and Modesty,” she said, turning the tube so the light pink cylinder emerged from its hiding place,”is not really my color.”
He looked at her as if she’d just grown another head.
“Your lipsticks are called Baby's Got Lips and Modesty, Madame President?”
His attempt to keep a straight face failed at her title and she had to laugh as well.
“Well, lots of beauty products have strange names. Beauty marketers think women are idiots.”
Billy had stepped into the bathroom and was perusing the other little bottles sitting on the counter. He’d been in here before but he’d never felt right looking at what seemed to be the president’s mysterious girly things. He recognized the uses for some of them -- concealer and mascara were easy enough -- but primer and hydrating serum were a little more confusing.
“I can’t believe you had all this in your bag for an overnight business trip,” he commented as his eye was drawn to three separate nail polishes, one clear, one dark purple, and the last a sharp, slightly scandalous red.
He plucked it up and held it out to the president before she could respond, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“Here, Madame President, I bet Commander Adama would like it if you wore this,” he said playfully.
She looked down at the bottle and back up at her aide and he knew she was about to get the upper hand somehow when her eyes sparkled and flashed to grey.
“Oh, I think we’d probably both enjoy it, considering his penchant for throwing me in the brig,” she said, closing her bag nonchalantly.
He lifted his eyebrows in confusion and she grinned.
“Look at the name of that one, Billy,” she instructed.
He flipped it over and he could feel the blood rush from his face against the heat of the president’s expectant gaze.
Of course Laura Roslin would have a nail polish called ‘Cuff Me and Stuff Me.’