fic: Games Adults Play (4/6)
Title: Games Adults Play (4/6)
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 2,744
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
Bill made a selfish decision. What might have killed her might also have saved her. There was a chance to keep Laura in his life-to keep her in the Fleet-and he took it.
Roll the hard six, Bill, just do it. Frak it.
He had never felt thankful for Gaius Baltar, and this would probably be the only time he did, but this day, the infuriatingly bumbling doctor had justified his existence.
It seemed the Cylon child's blood had curative properties and, when properly applied, could cure cancer. He wasn't into calling miracles, but seeing Laura's heart monitor go from a flatline to a beep was one of the defining moments of his life, no matter how it came about.
He had to be there when she woke up. Saul covered for him in the CIC as he watched over her, rubbing his thumb across her hand and listening to the calming track of her pulse. He began to doze off, his head nodding to the beat of it. He was in need of rest, but weren't they all.
He felt the twitch of her arm as she began to wake up, her eyelids fluttering before she opened them. Her blank expression turned into one of confusion, her face still ashen.
"Are you dead?" Her voice was hoarse, faint, but to his relief, she didn't wheeze afterward. "Bill... I-"
"Sssh, it's okay," he said, kissing her hand. "I'm alive. You're alive."
"I'm not..." She licked her dry lips, blinking. "I'm not supposed to be."
"Maybe you are," he murmured against her skin.
The corner of her mouth turned upward and she fell back asleep with a deep, contented breath.
-
Life is about choices. Every choice you make has an impact.
Bill chose to allow the stem cell transfer and I lived.
Billy chose to protect Dee and he died.
I chose to sleep with Gaius and then he challenged me.
I chose to ban abortion, despite my beliefs.
I chose to hide Hera and cause a mother's anguish.
I chose to let Tory try to steal this election out of fear and out of pride.
He chose to let me live.
I chose to lie. I chose to cheat.
Life is about choices, whether they're wrong or right.
Laura folded the paper and put it in the small wooden box in her desk.
There were times she wondered whether Bill had done the right thing by saving her. Some days looking into his eyes and wondering what was in store for them wasn't enough to make her glad to be alive. Because those hopeful moments were few and drowned out by doubt, every consequence of her last decisions forming a roughened pit inside her.
It was growing in the place of her tumor, which had stilled. It wasn't killing her body-its target was her spirit. It grew every time she spoke to him on the phone. It grew every time she looked at him, every time anyone asked her in earnest how the election was going.
It didn’t matter how it was going. The ending had already been written.
She had started on a treacherous course of events and the idea of hiding anything from him now reminded her of their past, veined with distrust and pulsing with the liquid fire of anger.
And yet, he couldn't know.
She yearned to regain her ability to guiltlessly harbor sweet little lies.
-
Ellen was beginning to admire Roslin for her gall. She'd never known anyone who came back from the brink of death with as much determination as she did. She'd heard that near-death experiences often changed people for the better. But she'd been surprised when Saul told her about Foster's plan to rig the election. He called it the "alternative victory plan" and refused to see it as actually cheating.
Cheating is never cheating if you're doing the right thing. He said it, not her.
She kept her opinions to herself about the vote rigging because she actually preferred Roslin as president over Baltar. There was something about Baltar that she found completely detestable and untrustworthy. She knew well the difference between an honest person and a dishonest one. Baltar, with his grandiose promises and shifty, reddened eyes, was the latter.
It's why Roslin's plan to cheat her way through the popular vote threw her for a loop. She had to be desperate, knowing that Baltar had the leadership capabilities of a blowfish. She wouldn't want the fate of her precious civilians to fall into his incapable hands. But as frakked up as he was, colonization was tempting. Nearly tempting enough to sway Ellen's own vote.
Feet on solid ground, a home with Saul, breathing fresh air... it sounded like a dream. And Ellen would bet anyone with ten cubits in his pocket that this dream was Roslin's nightmare. It was what was selling Baltar, inching his numbers up in the polls.
It had driven the President to the faux comfort of dishonesty, the one Gaius knew so well.
Saul's stance was surprisingly with Roslin, believing that the Cylons could easily find them and that they needed to proceed with caution before settling on the planet.
He'd never been a religious man, but Ellen wondered if Roslin had him swept up in her whole Earth fantasy. Ellen didn't believe it, not one bit.
Besides, their leader wasn't dying any more.
What an interesting coincidence that she saw the incumbent at the voting booth, casting her ballot on Election Day. Ellen couldn't resist the urge to sneak a look at the paper clutched in the President's hand. Laura noticed right away and folded the ballot in half.
"No cheating," Laura said with a soft smile.
"Oh, you are precious."
Laura's smile disappeared.
-
The results were slowly rolling in and Bill found it hard to pay attention to anything else going on in the CIC. He looked around and noticed everyone around him seemed distracted as well, whispering to each other, and he knew that some of those headsets had to be tuned in to the wireless broadcast of the election coverage.
It was good to see the kids excited about something.
Bill was nervous and excited, excited and nervous, not sure which emotion was ahead in the game. He had all the faith in Laura a person could have. Every day, at least once, he had found himself hoping that the people wouldn't take the easy way out and vote for Baltar. It was a hard sell. He knew how everyone was desperate for a place to land. Even his feet, experienced in flight for months at a time, longed to touch solid ground.
He wasn't sure what he would do if Baltar was elected. The idea of working with that son of a bitch was one he only had quickly considered, because it entirely disgusted him. He shelved the notion whenever it came into his head, but not without retreading the endlessly depressing thought that he was in no position to retire, no matter how atrocious the situation was at hand.
But he wasn't going to win. Roslin was still ahead in the polls.
He had to place his trust in the people like he'd placed it in her.
-
Gaius Baltar was President of the Twelve Colonies. Gods help them all.
Laura couldn't look at Bill during the inauguration. The disappointment evident in him when he made her admit to stealing the election was too much to bear and she couldn't see it again.
When he had sat before her, walls broken down and emotions running high, she saw something else in this man's weary eyes that told her that he wished he could do this with her-accept the fraud, let her win, do the wrong thing but the right thing just this one time.
But she knew one stark difference between her and Bill is that he was honest to the core.
She wasn't. And for that, in the moment he convinced her to correct what she'd done, she felt ashamed.
Everything felt wrong. Having Bill tell Gaius he'd won felt wrong. Standing in front of the crowd bearing witness to his succession felt wrong. Bill standing by her side, ever loyal, felt wrong. Everything continued to feel wrong, especially when the climax of the post-inaugural celebration was Cloud 9 getting nuked.
He certainly came in with a frakkin' bang.
And then she needed out, needed out as quickly as possible. The remodel of Colonial One was obviously one of Gaius's first priorities, one final way to stick it to her. Tory, her guilt palpable, had arranged the transfer of her belongings.
She couldn't do it herself.
She left her ship-what used to be her ship-and went, tail between legs, to the only place she could fathom. Maybe there was something there for her.
At Adama's door the Marine looked at her, his expression changing when he realized she was no longer President and could no longer command him to open the door. But there was a flicker of sympathy in his gaze, and this Marine simply stepped away from the hatch, silently allowing her entrance.
Laura opened the door, its slight squeak predictable but always a bit jarring.
Inside, she saw Bill and Ellen sitting on his couch. Ellen was draped over the arm, her feet planted in Bill's lap. Maybe Ellen wasn't kidding after all when she implied they'd been frakking.
It would figure. All this time she'd spent waiting on him while he was off frakking a married woman. She couldn't deny the sense of universal retribution that settled deep into her stomach.
The Marine closed the hatch behind her as she was too absentminded to do it herself. She made a beeline for the liquor cabinet, where a bottle of Aerilon whiskey stood half empty, golden drops of it dotting the fine wood.
"One of those days, wasn't it?" Ellen said, oozing sympathy.
"Where's your husband?" Laura snapped back, pouring herself what she could describe as an Adama-sized serving of whiskey and taking a sufficient gulp. It burned, nearly overwhelmed her. She'd grow accustomed to it.
"CIC," Bill replied. "Least drunk of us got this shift."
"Gods." Laura took another swig. "That certainly makes me feel better. Shouldn't you be up there? How many people died when that nuke went off, Bill? A couple thousand? More? I'd figure it out, but..." She drank again, shaken. "Baltar tossed my whiteboard. Right in front of me. Frakkin' asshole."
"I guess. Probably." There wasn't a note of sympathy in his voice and she looked at him incredulously.
"Aren't we in some sort of emergency state?"
"Apparently not." He took a long draw on his glass, emptying it. "According to the President, we're gonna stay right here. Stand our ground."
"Colonize." All joy ever associated with the word in the past had been completely drained from it.
"I'm kind of excited about it, really," Ellen said. "It'll be nice to have a place to call home."
Laura stared at her, fighting the urge to throw her drink in the woman's face. It would be a waste of precious alcohol. She finished it off instead.
"Sure. All we've got is time." Laura refilled her glass, ignoring the fact that all eyes were on her. Judgment be damned, she was going to drink this problem away. Seemed to be a Fleet pastime and it was well past her turn.
"Baltar's sent the first reconnaissance crews down to the surface."
"Bill..." Laura gripped her glass tightly. "I don't want to hear another word about it."
The three were quiet until the couch squeaked under Ellen's form as she got up and walked to the liquor cabinet with her glass. "Nothing to talk about, then," she said as she poured another drink.
"Top me off?" Laura held her glass out and Ellen arched an eyebrow, then gave her a smarmy smile as she fulfilled the request.
"I'm no barmaid." Ellen placed the bottle back down on the countertop.
"What are you, then?"
Ellen sipped her drink. "The XO's wife, for one."
Laura's gaze flickered to Bill, then back to Ellen. "Take your vows seriously, do you?"
Ellen's gaze turned into a steely glare. Laura steadily looked back at her, so close their glasses nearly clinked together. Ellen leaned in and Laura felt her breath on her ear.
"At least I've got a title."
Ellen's lips grazed her earlobe and Laura's breath caught in her throat, a sharp pang of rage mixed with the warmth of the liquor and a tingle at the sensation of this sudden, intrusive touch. Ellen didn't pull away, her lips lightly touching Laura's ear. "It could be convenient, being a civilian again, don't you think?"
Laura felt her throat turn thick with emotion and she clenched her jaw. Ellen moved her head away, keeping her body close.
"You didn't come here to talk." Ellen put her glass down, her voice nearly hypnotic. Laura blinked, her chest aching. Ellen's hand reached up and stroked her cheek, then cupped it as she leaned in and kissed her gently, her lips still.
Laura's mind raced, objections firing off in every corner of her mind. And yet, she didn't move.
"I didn't come here for this," Laura whispered when Ellen's lips left hers. She looked at Adama who was still sitting on his couch, his legs askew. She felt a rush of arousal, unexpectedly strong.
Ellen kissed her again and Laura kept her eyes on Bill. He shifted on the couch as their lips pressed together, watching them intently. Laura moved her mouth, inciting Ellen to do the same.
Laura placed her glass down on the countertop with a shaking hand and closed her eyes as Ellen's fingers tangled in the back of her hair. Laura felt her own body amping up, a soothing effect of the alcohol running through her blood. She kissed Ellen back, this time with tongue.
If he wanted a show, well frak it. She had nothing to lose now. She wasn't the President, wasn't the loose little Secretary of Education, wasn't even a teacher who frakked her old students when she was hard up for a lay.
She was nothing.
Maybe this was what freedom felt like.
Laura whimpered softly against Ellen's mouth as she pressed her body closer, her slender hands sliding around Laura's waist.
"I haven't kissed a woman in so long." Ellen's voice was low, like it was a secret between them.
Laura felt her body throbbing. She looked over at Bill and blushed to see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his trousers.
She heard Ellen laugh, felt her chest shaking against her own. "Bill, get over here."
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Laura's. "You're frakkin' crazy."
Laura took a deep breath. "Get over here," she said, her voice wavering.
Bill's eyes narrowed and that instant she knew she had crossed a line. They were out of control. Everything was out of control and ridiculous and terribly wrong. Embarrassment washed over her-what a letch she was. How quickly she'd managed to fall from the high esteem he held her in before, that place she'd worked so hard to earn. Her honor kept falling, dominoes at the end of her line.
She kept swearing off this habit, this tendency to frak her pain away and it never seemed to work. But it kept happening.
She pulled away from Ellen and turned to eye the hatch. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I'm going to go. Somewhere."
"Suit yourself," Ellen said behind her. Laura felt too ashamed to look back, too confused to meet Adama's eyes before she walked away.
She felt him before she heard him, gasping at the sudden clutch of his hands upon her hipbones. His footsteps had been whisper quiet across the ornate carpeting.
"I want you to stay." Bill's voice was low and gruff and against her hair. She could feel its warmth. "You decide. But know that I want you to stay."
His fingers firmly pressed into her abdomen made her sway. The times she'd imagined him touching her this way were far from this moment. But she felt it all: the buzz of electric and the buzz of the alcohol and the intoxicating rush of his body brushing against her back.
"If you want me to, I will."
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 2,744
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
Bill made a selfish decision. What might have killed her might also have saved her. There was a chance to keep Laura in his life-to keep her in the Fleet-and he took it.
Roll the hard six, Bill, just do it. Frak it.
He had never felt thankful for Gaius Baltar, and this would probably be the only time he did, but this day, the infuriatingly bumbling doctor had justified his existence.
It seemed the Cylon child's blood had curative properties and, when properly applied, could cure cancer. He wasn't into calling miracles, but seeing Laura's heart monitor go from a flatline to a beep was one of the defining moments of his life, no matter how it came about.
He had to be there when she woke up. Saul covered for him in the CIC as he watched over her, rubbing his thumb across her hand and listening to the calming track of her pulse. He began to doze off, his head nodding to the beat of it. He was in need of rest, but weren't they all.
He felt the twitch of her arm as she began to wake up, her eyelids fluttering before she opened them. Her blank expression turned into one of confusion, her face still ashen.
"Are you dead?" Her voice was hoarse, faint, but to his relief, she didn't wheeze afterward. "Bill... I-"
"Sssh, it's okay," he said, kissing her hand. "I'm alive. You're alive."
"I'm not..." She licked her dry lips, blinking. "I'm not supposed to be."
"Maybe you are," he murmured against her skin.
The corner of her mouth turned upward and she fell back asleep with a deep, contented breath.
-
Life is about choices. Every choice you make has an impact.
Bill chose to allow the stem cell transfer and I lived.
Billy chose to protect Dee and he died.
I chose to sleep with Gaius and then he challenged me.
I chose to ban abortion, despite my beliefs.
I chose to hide Hera and cause a mother's anguish.
I chose to let Tory try to steal this election out of fear and out of pride.
He chose to let me live.
I chose to lie. I chose to cheat.
Life is about choices, whether they're wrong or right.
Laura folded the paper and put it in the small wooden box in her desk.
There were times she wondered whether Bill had done the right thing by saving her. Some days looking into his eyes and wondering what was in store for them wasn't enough to make her glad to be alive. Because those hopeful moments were few and drowned out by doubt, every consequence of her last decisions forming a roughened pit inside her.
It was growing in the place of her tumor, which had stilled. It wasn't killing her body-its target was her spirit. It grew every time she spoke to him on the phone. It grew every time she looked at him, every time anyone asked her in earnest how the election was going.
It didn’t matter how it was going. The ending had already been written.
She had started on a treacherous course of events and the idea of hiding anything from him now reminded her of their past, veined with distrust and pulsing with the liquid fire of anger.
And yet, he couldn't know.
She yearned to regain her ability to guiltlessly harbor sweet little lies.
-
Ellen was beginning to admire Roslin for her gall. She'd never known anyone who came back from the brink of death with as much determination as she did. She'd heard that near-death experiences often changed people for the better. But she'd been surprised when Saul told her about Foster's plan to rig the election. He called it the "alternative victory plan" and refused to see it as actually cheating.
Cheating is never cheating if you're doing the right thing. He said it, not her.
She kept her opinions to herself about the vote rigging because she actually preferred Roslin as president over Baltar. There was something about Baltar that she found completely detestable and untrustworthy. She knew well the difference between an honest person and a dishonest one. Baltar, with his grandiose promises and shifty, reddened eyes, was the latter.
It's why Roslin's plan to cheat her way through the popular vote threw her for a loop. She had to be desperate, knowing that Baltar had the leadership capabilities of a blowfish. She wouldn't want the fate of her precious civilians to fall into his incapable hands. But as frakked up as he was, colonization was tempting. Nearly tempting enough to sway Ellen's own vote.
Feet on solid ground, a home with Saul, breathing fresh air... it sounded like a dream. And Ellen would bet anyone with ten cubits in his pocket that this dream was Roslin's nightmare. It was what was selling Baltar, inching his numbers up in the polls.
It had driven the President to the faux comfort of dishonesty, the one Gaius knew so well.
Saul's stance was surprisingly with Roslin, believing that the Cylons could easily find them and that they needed to proceed with caution before settling on the planet.
He'd never been a religious man, but Ellen wondered if Roslin had him swept up in her whole Earth fantasy. Ellen didn't believe it, not one bit.
Besides, their leader wasn't dying any more.
What an interesting coincidence that she saw the incumbent at the voting booth, casting her ballot on Election Day. Ellen couldn't resist the urge to sneak a look at the paper clutched in the President's hand. Laura noticed right away and folded the ballot in half.
"No cheating," Laura said with a soft smile.
"Oh, you are precious."
Laura's smile disappeared.
-
The results were slowly rolling in and Bill found it hard to pay attention to anything else going on in the CIC. He looked around and noticed everyone around him seemed distracted as well, whispering to each other, and he knew that some of those headsets had to be tuned in to the wireless broadcast of the election coverage.
It was good to see the kids excited about something.
Bill was nervous and excited, excited and nervous, not sure which emotion was ahead in the game. He had all the faith in Laura a person could have. Every day, at least once, he had found himself hoping that the people wouldn't take the easy way out and vote for Baltar. It was a hard sell. He knew how everyone was desperate for a place to land. Even his feet, experienced in flight for months at a time, longed to touch solid ground.
He wasn't sure what he would do if Baltar was elected. The idea of working with that son of a bitch was one he only had quickly considered, because it entirely disgusted him. He shelved the notion whenever it came into his head, but not without retreading the endlessly depressing thought that he was in no position to retire, no matter how atrocious the situation was at hand.
But he wasn't going to win. Roslin was still ahead in the polls.
He had to place his trust in the people like he'd placed it in her.
-
Gaius Baltar was President of the Twelve Colonies. Gods help them all.
Laura couldn't look at Bill during the inauguration. The disappointment evident in him when he made her admit to stealing the election was too much to bear and she couldn't see it again.
When he had sat before her, walls broken down and emotions running high, she saw something else in this man's weary eyes that told her that he wished he could do this with her-accept the fraud, let her win, do the wrong thing but the right thing just this one time.
But she knew one stark difference between her and Bill is that he was honest to the core.
She wasn't. And for that, in the moment he convinced her to correct what she'd done, she felt ashamed.
Everything felt wrong. Having Bill tell Gaius he'd won felt wrong. Standing in front of the crowd bearing witness to his succession felt wrong. Bill standing by her side, ever loyal, felt wrong. Everything continued to feel wrong, especially when the climax of the post-inaugural celebration was Cloud 9 getting nuked.
He certainly came in with a frakkin' bang.
And then she needed out, needed out as quickly as possible. The remodel of Colonial One was obviously one of Gaius's first priorities, one final way to stick it to her. Tory, her guilt palpable, had arranged the transfer of her belongings.
She couldn't do it herself.
She left her ship-what used to be her ship-and went, tail between legs, to the only place she could fathom. Maybe there was something there for her.
At Adama's door the Marine looked at her, his expression changing when he realized she was no longer President and could no longer command him to open the door. But there was a flicker of sympathy in his gaze, and this Marine simply stepped away from the hatch, silently allowing her entrance.
Laura opened the door, its slight squeak predictable but always a bit jarring.
Inside, she saw Bill and Ellen sitting on his couch. Ellen was draped over the arm, her feet planted in Bill's lap. Maybe Ellen wasn't kidding after all when she implied they'd been frakking.
It would figure. All this time she'd spent waiting on him while he was off frakking a married woman. She couldn't deny the sense of universal retribution that settled deep into her stomach.
The Marine closed the hatch behind her as she was too absentminded to do it herself. She made a beeline for the liquor cabinet, where a bottle of Aerilon whiskey stood half empty, golden drops of it dotting the fine wood.
"One of those days, wasn't it?" Ellen said, oozing sympathy.
"Where's your husband?" Laura snapped back, pouring herself what she could describe as an Adama-sized serving of whiskey and taking a sufficient gulp. It burned, nearly overwhelmed her. She'd grow accustomed to it.
"CIC," Bill replied. "Least drunk of us got this shift."
"Gods." Laura took another swig. "That certainly makes me feel better. Shouldn't you be up there? How many people died when that nuke went off, Bill? A couple thousand? More? I'd figure it out, but..." She drank again, shaken. "Baltar tossed my whiteboard. Right in front of me. Frakkin' asshole."
"I guess. Probably." There wasn't a note of sympathy in his voice and she looked at him incredulously.
"Aren't we in some sort of emergency state?"
"Apparently not." He took a long draw on his glass, emptying it. "According to the President, we're gonna stay right here. Stand our ground."
"Colonize." All joy ever associated with the word in the past had been completely drained from it.
"I'm kind of excited about it, really," Ellen said. "It'll be nice to have a place to call home."
Laura stared at her, fighting the urge to throw her drink in the woman's face. It would be a waste of precious alcohol. She finished it off instead.
"Sure. All we've got is time." Laura refilled her glass, ignoring the fact that all eyes were on her. Judgment be damned, she was going to drink this problem away. Seemed to be a Fleet pastime and it was well past her turn.
"Baltar's sent the first reconnaissance crews down to the surface."
"Bill..." Laura gripped her glass tightly. "I don't want to hear another word about it."
The three were quiet until the couch squeaked under Ellen's form as she got up and walked to the liquor cabinet with her glass. "Nothing to talk about, then," she said as she poured another drink.
"Top me off?" Laura held her glass out and Ellen arched an eyebrow, then gave her a smarmy smile as she fulfilled the request.
"I'm no barmaid." Ellen placed the bottle back down on the countertop.
"What are you, then?"
Ellen sipped her drink. "The XO's wife, for one."
Laura's gaze flickered to Bill, then back to Ellen. "Take your vows seriously, do you?"
Ellen's gaze turned into a steely glare. Laura steadily looked back at her, so close their glasses nearly clinked together. Ellen leaned in and Laura felt her breath on her ear.
"At least I've got a title."
Ellen's lips grazed her earlobe and Laura's breath caught in her throat, a sharp pang of rage mixed with the warmth of the liquor and a tingle at the sensation of this sudden, intrusive touch. Ellen didn't pull away, her lips lightly touching Laura's ear. "It could be convenient, being a civilian again, don't you think?"
Laura felt her throat turn thick with emotion and she clenched her jaw. Ellen moved her head away, keeping her body close.
"You didn't come here to talk." Ellen put her glass down, her voice nearly hypnotic. Laura blinked, her chest aching. Ellen's hand reached up and stroked her cheek, then cupped it as she leaned in and kissed her gently, her lips still.
Laura's mind raced, objections firing off in every corner of her mind. And yet, she didn't move.
"I didn't come here for this," Laura whispered when Ellen's lips left hers. She looked at Adama who was still sitting on his couch, his legs askew. She felt a rush of arousal, unexpectedly strong.
Ellen kissed her again and Laura kept her eyes on Bill. He shifted on the couch as their lips pressed together, watching them intently. Laura moved her mouth, inciting Ellen to do the same.
Laura placed her glass down on the countertop with a shaking hand and closed her eyes as Ellen's fingers tangled in the back of her hair. Laura felt her own body amping up, a soothing effect of the alcohol running through her blood. She kissed Ellen back, this time with tongue.
If he wanted a show, well frak it. She had nothing to lose now. She wasn't the President, wasn't the loose little Secretary of Education, wasn't even a teacher who frakked her old students when she was hard up for a lay.
She was nothing.
Maybe this was what freedom felt like.
Laura whimpered softly against Ellen's mouth as she pressed her body closer, her slender hands sliding around Laura's waist.
"I haven't kissed a woman in so long." Ellen's voice was low, like it was a secret between them.
Laura felt her body throbbing. She looked over at Bill and blushed to see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his trousers.
She heard Ellen laugh, felt her chest shaking against her own. "Bill, get over here."
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Laura's. "You're frakkin' crazy."
Laura took a deep breath. "Get over here," she said, her voice wavering.
Bill's eyes narrowed and that instant she knew she had crossed a line. They were out of control. Everything was out of control and ridiculous and terribly wrong. Embarrassment washed over her-what a letch she was. How quickly she'd managed to fall from the high esteem he held her in before, that place she'd worked so hard to earn. Her honor kept falling, dominoes at the end of her line.
She kept swearing off this habit, this tendency to frak her pain away and it never seemed to work. But it kept happening.
She pulled away from Ellen and turned to eye the hatch. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I'm going to go. Somewhere."
"Suit yourself," Ellen said behind her. Laura felt too ashamed to look back, too confused to meet Adama's eyes before she walked away.
She felt him before she heard him, gasping at the sudden clutch of his hands upon her hipbones. His footsteps had been whisper quiet across the ornate carpeting.
"I want you to stay." Bill's voice was low and gruff and against her hair. She could feel its warmth. "You decide. But know that I want you to stay."
His fingers firmly pressed into her abdomen made her sway. The times she'd imagined him touching her this way were far from this moment. But she felt it all: the buzz of electric and the buzz of the alcohol and the intoxicating rush of his body brushing against her back.
"If you want me to, I will."