Fic: Breaking Bread (Other Times) (Chapter 2)
Bill fussed over the place settings one last time, refolding the napkins, straightening the forks, and lining up the water glasses at a perfect angle. He’d been to enough military banquets to know how to set a table properly, that and attention to this kind of precise detail was something of an occupational hazard. Tigh would call it something of an occupational sickness. Then again Saul wasn’t the best exemplar of military discipline. Besides, Saul would see right through all this. He wasn’t fooling over the shine on the flatware, now quickly buffing the President’s knife on his sleeve, because of protocol. He was doing it because he was nervous.
They’d never before spent time together just to relax and enjoy themselves. Even when they’d finally become friends, she’d been too ill for them to spare any time for casual pleasures like getting to know the person behind the opposite desk. And it certainly wasn’t as if they had ever before had anything to celebrate. Their amazing discovery on Kobol had been marred by death, and she hadn’t even been able to stand on her own two feet unaided when she promoted him. But that was all in the past. She now had the chance to make a fresh start, and so did they. Given that, he hoped that tonight he would discover that he liked her as a person as much as he had come, in the last few months, to respect her as a leader and to care for her as a partner. He conceded that this was not a particularly demanding or ambitious hope on his part, but he refused to give further ground to the little voice in his head that was telling him that it was no skin off its nose if he wanted to pretend that this particular horse hadn’t already left the barn.
The knock at the hatch door prevented him from moving on to shine her fork, which he had just determined was lacking in luster. Three minutes early he noted as he glanced at the clock and guessed that Cottle must really be working her last nerve if she was now arriving early for her engagements. He opened the hatch and found her in mid-conversation with Billy, who had clearly just helped her stand out of her chair, as their hands were still joined. They were arguing good-naturedly.
“Would you like me to come back in an hour to get you, or earlier if you are feeling tired?” the boy asked.
“I am not feeling tired, how could I with you doing everything for me, and you do not need to come back and get me,” she answered slightly exasperated.
“But that’s my job, Madame President,” he answered earnestly.
She laughed a bit at that, patting the boy on the arm as she released herself from his grasp. “No it isn’t. Not tonight.” Laura turned then, having noticed him now standing at the door, and smiled. “Good evening, Bill. Just give me a moment please.”
“Of course,” he answered returning her smile, enjoying watching her handle her young assistant. They made a nice pair, proof that families could be found even at the end of the world, that proof in itself perhaps that they were indeed all worthy of survival.
“Billy, go enjoy your evening. I happen to know that I am not the only woman on this ship that you enjoy spending time with.” She smiled at the boy’s blush, as she gave him a quick teasing wink. “I also happen to know that you are not the only person on this ship who knows how to push a wheelchair. I’ll be fine. The Admiral will see to it. Isn’t that right?” she asked turning toward him.
“Absolutely, Madame President. If I can’t pilot one of these,” he answered, gesturing toward her chair, “then I’ll have to surrender my wings.” He nodded to Laura with a conspiratorial smile as he watched Billy’s cheeks redden further. He really was a joy to tease.
“Okay then, I’ll leave her in your capable hands, Sir,” Billy answered as he turned to go.
“Just the president here, gentleman, don’t mind me,” Laura offered in a teasing rebuke that turned Billy absolutely crimson.
Watching the boy go, he couldn’t resist one last bit of fun at his expense. “Be sure to give my regards to Petty Officer Dualla,” he called after Billy, laughing at the embarrassed hitch in his step as the young aide retreated. Chuckling, he reached out to help an extremely amused Laura over the raised threshold to his quarters.
“Showing off your capable hands,” she laughed, patting his arm, as she stepped inside.
“He’s a good kid,” he replied, noting that she quickly slipped out of his grip as they moved inside. Message received. She did not want him treating her like an invalid this evening.
“I know. I don’t know what I would do without him,” she answered, “even if I am ready to kill him.”
“I suspect you are ready to kill just about everyone at this point,” he offered sympathetically as he motioned her to the table and then pulled out her chair.
“All I’ll say is thank the Gods for your hall pass, Bill. It’s just what I needed,” she finished as she took her seat.
“So does this mean I’m not one of the ones slated for execution?” he asked as he pushed in her chair.
“Well, let’s see how the evening goes first before I start issuing any pardons,” she answered with a smile as she held up her water glass for him to fill from the pitcher.
“Fair enough.”
“So tell me how the new CAP rotations are working out,” she suggested as she watched him preparing to serve the meal from the galley cart. “Billy’s caught me mostly up to speed in the last few days, but I haven’t seen anything yet on how Galactica and Pegasus are doing at integrating our defenses.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you all about that tomorrow, Laura, but no work tonight,” he explained, admiring her dedication but not wanting to waste their chance to get to know each other better. “Remember your hall pass?”
“You’re right. Thank you. For tonight, we’re just Laura and Bill. No president and no admiral here.” She smiled at him as he set her plate down in front of her.
“Good,” he answered, moving around to his chair and smiling back at her as he sat. He was about to tell her to dig in when he noted that her smile had turned to a frown. His nerves, which had been fairly well neutralized by their shared torture of Billy, began to reassert themselves, reminding him that he had not shared a dinner with a beautiful woman, who was spending time with him merely in her capacity as a beautiful woman, in a very long time. “What?” he asked concerned.
“Is this what we are eating?” she asked looking disappointed.
“Yes,” he answered, silently cursing Cottle, but cursing himself even more for ever asking Cottle what he should serve her in the first place.
“Bill, I was willing to look past the fact that you didn’t bother to offer me any wine tonight, even though I know you have a couple of bottles stashed away, but this is beyond the pale.”
“What? Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas make a hearty and traditional meal. Remember, it’s winter right now where we come from.” He had decided to show no fear and play dumb. Better to go down with the ship on this one, like a good captain, than to admit what he’d done. Based on the look on her face, however, he could tell the ship was already lost.
“There isn’t even any gravy on this,” she remarked in clear exasperation. “But it isn’t enough that we will dine tonight without tasting, but chewing is apparently also optional. And this,” she offered brandishing her very shiny knife, “is this here for purposes of irony?”
He was quickly learning that her wit was as sharp as her mind and her moxie. In an act of desperation, he flashed his most charming smile. “What can I say? Should I throw myself on your mercy, Madame President, or simply ready myself for execution?”
She laughed. “Well, I am willing to offer a stay if you promise to (A) do your damnedest to make this up to me, and (B) never again ask Cottle what you should feed me.” Here she flashed him her own most charming smile. “That is, Admiral, if you enjoy my company enough to ask me again to dinner sometime, despite my criticisms.”
“Oh I don’t think that a second invitation could ever be in doubt, Laura.” Indeed it couldn’t. “And you most definitely have a deal,” he finished, relieved that he hadn’t blown everything this soon.
She smiled in response and set down the knife and picked up her fork. “Good, in that case, my compliments to the chef,” she offered wryly, scooping up a heaping portion of mashed potatoes on her fork, and arching her brow at him as most of the potatoes slipped back through the fork’s tines to her plate. With a weary smile, she took a first bite.
“Good?” he asked, happily readying himself to be skewered. Banter had never been his strong suit, but she made it easy.
“Best mashed potatoes from a box I’ve ever had,” she answered.
“Well, we aim to please on Galactica. Nothing but the finest for our guests.” He then sampled the potatoes for himself, discovering that they definitely lived down to her insult.
“You know what is really tragic about this, Bill,” she announced after sampling the meatloaf and the peas.
“That you’ve decided to go ahead and kill me anyway,” he responded after swallowing his own sample of the meat, “and after tasting this I have to admit that death might be the most merciful option. Has this been what Cottle’s been feeding you all along, because I’ll fully support his airlocking if he has?”
“You’ve discovered the way to my heart, Bill Adama,” she chuckled. “And this is gourmet compared to what they’ve been feeding me down there. I mean at least this meatloaf has a shape. But I was going to say that this was all so tragic, because I hid out in a meat locker back during the little coup and insurrection phase of our relationship, so I just happen to know how much better we could be doing tonight.”
He choked slightly on the water he was drinking at her turn of phrase. Only Laura could make mutiny sound so downright charming, verging on a come-on. He tried to cut that last thought off at the knees, but it was hard since she was teasingly arching her brow at him as she continued with her train of thought, while he coughed and wiped his mouth. He should hate that she could so easily catch him off guard with her charms, but he didn’t.
“I mean we are the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Admiral of the Colonial Fleet, surely that entitles us to a steak dinner when celebrating that I didn’t die this month and you didn’t die last month.” She laughed as she watched him choking on his water again. “Well, it was more than a month ago for you, but you get my point.”
“Yes, I do,” he chuckled, picking up his napkin and wiping his mouth again. It felt strange to laugh over his shooting, but good. This was the first time he had ever really done so, and it was nice for it to now feel far enough in the past that he could genuinely find the humor in it. Her laughter, however, smacked of over compensation. He understood. He’d been there. But someday she’d be over it too, and he was looking forward to being there with her when she was. He wondered if he should tell her that she didn’t have to try so hard with him, but vulnerability was a hard thing (for her too he imagined), so he opted instead for a safe toast. “So here’s to life,” he offered with a raised glass.
She raised her own glass in response. “To life,” she echoed, her eyes warming in what he took as relief.
“Is it safe for me to drink this time?” he asked with his own eyes twinkling, as he continued to hold up his glass.
“I promise to be good, Bill, no more teasing,” she vowed with a nod and a sip of her own drink.
“Well, let’s not go overboard. I didn’t invite you here tonight so that we could quilt.”
She choked on her own drink this time, coughing so hard he almost thought he’d have to deliver her back to Life Station and face Cottle’s (not to mention Billy’s) ire. “That wasn’t fair,” she complained, waving her hand at him to let him know that she was fine.
“Oh I thought it was only fair,” he replied, relieved he hadn’t killed her before they even got to dessert. He watched her carefully as he drew his glass to his lips, almost able to see the gears turning in her brain as she weighed her options and considered her words.
“Go ahead,” she told him with a grin, “I promised to be good, and I keep my promises, well at least the ones I find convenient.”
He pulled the glass from his lips and shot her one of his best glares for show, getting a laugh from her.
“That was it, I swear. I’m done. Here, I’ll prove it.” She shoveled a heaping bite of potatoes into her mouth, signaling him that the coast was briefly clear.
He took a sip and grinned back at her after he had safely swallowed. “Thank you. I appreciate your sacrifice.”
“Yes, these potatoes are decidedly underwhelming. Fortunate that the company makes up for it.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he offered, returning the compliment with the utmost sincerity. He was thrilled that she appeared to be enjoying this evening as much as he was. The slight blush on her cheeks at his flattery was proof enough of that. He could hardly believe that he’d wasted so much time when they first met considering her a nuisance. Well, certainly not the first time he’d been proven a fool when it came to women.
“So Bill, since we checked our titles at the door tonight, tell me something about yourself that the Admiral would never want me to know.”
To be continued. Up next, getting to know each other better. :-)