Sweet Dreams
Title: Sweet Dreams
Author: bsg_aussiegirl
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura and Bill
Rating: M
“I would like everyone to acknowledge Commander Adama’s part in this project,” Laura Roslin said smiling across to where he stood staring intently at his boots. She knew he hated having to attend the ceremony at all. According to Billy he had protested quite a bit.
“Some of you may not know but the concept for Holidayland was entirely Commander Adama’s idea. I simply mentioned to him that it was unfortunate that the children of the fleet were confined to cramped ships and that it was unhealthy for them not to run around and indulge in some form of exercise. He and his crew participated in collecting, repairing and modifying the gymnasium equipment you will find here today. In fact, many of the playground items here in Holidayland originated from the Galactica. So, could you please join with me in thanking Commander Adama.”
She brought her hands together to clap, turned slightly in his direction, and smiled graciously at him. His nod to her barely perceptible, he remained standing with his hands clasped firmly in front of his body. She knew he didn’t like all the attention, but she wanted people to know that William Adama wasn’t a military tyrant.
As she finished her speech, Michael Staines, the official photographer for the fleet newsletter, caught her eye and gestured with his camera. Michael Staines was a short chunky sort of fellow who she always imagined became interested in photography solely to meet women whom otherwise would have been unavailable.
She knew she had to play the politician; therefore, she smiled and non-verbally responded affirmatively.
“Would you like me to stand in front of the playground?” she asked. The playground itself had now been invaded by a group of rowdy children that were lucky enough to be chosen as the first to trial the new equipment.
“Yes, that would be nice. And maybe Commander Adama could stand next to you?”
Her gaze shifted to Adama’s face. For once, he was openly showing his emotions; it was quite obvious he had no desire to be in the photograph.
“Come on, Commander,” she teased. “I need someone to make me look good.”
He sighed, as if she was asking him to sit in an electric chair. Nevertheless, he moved to stand beside her.
“Don’t forget to smile,” she whispered mischievously.
“Hmph,” he grunted, her words evoking the opposite reaction in his expression.
“Closer,” Michael Staines ordered.
“Excuse me?” Adama asked.
“You need to get closer so that I can fit you both in the photograph,” Michael explained.
“Well, if I can’t fit, we won’t worry,” Adama said.
She grabbed his arm and laughed.
“You’re not getting out of it that easy, Commander,” she said, holding him firmly in place. Moving in closer, she molded her body against his. She found, with their similar heights, she fit snugly into the space beneath his left arm that he automatically placed behind her back. She reached out and placed her hand on his opposite arm.
Her playfulness suddenly vanished. She had touched him before, of course, but this pose seemed much more intimate. She could feel the hardness of his chest as her face tilted into and almost leant against it. The scent of his shaving cream and soap reached her senses and she found it altogether too pleasant. The rough woolen material of his pants rubbing against the bare skin of her legs, suddenly way too many illicit thoughts were swirling out of control in her mind. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers involuntarily dug into his muscular arm.
“Smile,” Michael ordered and she plastered a strained one onto her face.
The photographer eventually agreed that there was a suitable shot and she disentangled herself from Adama with an apologetic look. His face was once again a stoic mask, but she thought - for just a fleeting moment she caught a whisper of amusement dancing in his perfect blue eyes.
“Thank you, Commander,” she said in a voice much more husky than she had intended.
“Anytime,” he murmured.
Wandering off, she started chatting with the children. She decided being amongst them was a safer bet. Even though she knew from experience children were extremely observant, she hoped they wouldn’t come to the same conclusion over her flushed features and breathlessness as the various reporters and fleet captains attending today’s ceremony might.
She was on her knees, heavily involved in a discussion with an eleven year-old girl when she felt a hand gently touch her elbow.
“I’m afraid our raptor is due to leave Madam President,” the Commander told her.
“Already?” She checked her watch. “Oh,” she added when she realized she had been mingling with the children for over an hour.
“Maybe you could come back another day,” a child named Susie said.
“That would be lovely,” she said, giving the girl a quick hug.
As she stood, a six year-old tugged at her hand.
“Yes, darling?” she asked, crouching back down to the child’s level.
“Are you married to Commander Adam?” the girl asked, inadvertently leaving the ‘a’ off of his name.
“No,” she snorted, even though she couldn’t deny the image the idea created caused a slow burning sensation between her legs. “We just work together,” she said as she affectionately flicked the child on the nose, determinedly buried her sharp wanton urges to go and bid farewell to the other children she had been talking with previously.
“You’re very good with them,” Adama said a few minutes later as they made their way towards the hangar deck.
“You can take the teacher out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the teacher,” she joked.
“Hmm,” he murmured.
They remained silent during the raptor flight. However, as she noticed lately, it was not an uncomfortable silence. Theirs seemed companionable - a moment’s peace and escape for both of them.
After the raptor landed, she unclipped her restraints and he, as always, politely aided her as she alighted from the shuttle.
“Holidayland really was a lovely idea,” she said as she turned to bid him farewell after they reached her office. “I could do with a holiday,” she added, nodding to the piles of paperwork strewn across her desk.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he asked.
“Sorry?”
“If we went on a holiday, where would you like it to be? By the sea, swimming and lazing on the beach? Or in the mountains, skiing?”
She shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear the image of him wet and wearing only swimming trunks out of her brain. Her mouth also went dry with the thought of them lying naked on a rug by a fireplace. Each scenario was both attractive and erotic.
She finally found her voice. “I’ve never skied,” she said.
“Me neither,” he admitted. “I guess we could just huddle up in front of a fire to keep warm then.”
She felt heat spread across her chest as she assumed that his huddle up and hers meant the same. Suddenly embarrassed, she berated herself. She was dying of cancer. She would be going on a permanent holiday soon enough. There was little point to making plans for the future.
“I don’t think we need worry about such things right now,” she said, firmly reinstating her presidential face.
“No, no, of course not. We have much larger things to worry about,” he murmured in agreement.
“Yes, yes. Goodnight Commander,” she said, effectively dismissing him back to his raptor.
“Goodnight Madam President.” He turned and left the office.
She slowly removed her glasses and hooked them onto her jacket.
The ‘we’ in his statements stood out like a red traffic light. He had said it so naturally. Made it seem like it hadn’t even crossed his mind that they would not be together.
Seven years ago, before Richard’s first presidential campaign, she had gone on her last proper holiday with her sister, Sandra. Going all out and indulging themselves, they’d stayed at a resort with a swimming pool and tennis courts, a day spa where they had been treated to a massage and champagne and a seafood restaurant where they had stuffed themselves full of delicacies. It had been perfect.
She closed her eyes and hummed, amusing herself by picturing a holiday with William Adama. His hands looked as if he would be well suited for the role of masseur, she thought evocatively. She could almost feel those hands rubbing up and down her arms. Her reverie of his slow strokes caused the hairs on her arms to stand on end and goose bumps to form.
“One day,” he rumbled near her ear.
She opened her eyes and stared up into his.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he asked again.
His hands and that gentle rhythm that he continued to build on her arms felt real. His deep voice, both masculine and coated with honey floating around her ears, sounded real. His probing eyes, expectantly awaiting an answer to his question, looked real. His mouth, with its full lips, both soft and dominant as they descended and met hers, tasted altogether too real.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he repeated, claiming her mouth with a series of small gentle kisses full of promise.
“I can’t decide,” she whispered.
“I want to make you happy,” he told her. She hummed.
“Both,” she said, before raising herself up onto her tiptoes and tasting his lips again. She decided she liked his flavor. It made her smile. “Either. Any. You decide.”
“Okay. Sea and sand it is,” he said. “Maybe we could go sailing. I can just see your hair floating wildly around your face as you stand on the deck in the wind. Plus I’d like to see you in a bikini,” he added with a chuckle before leaning down and pressing his lips against hers in a sweet whisper touch.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“I’ll look forward to it. Goodnight.” Once again, he left her standing in the middle of her office with her eyes closed, smiling and humming.
She eventually kicked off her shoes and made her way to her Colonial One sleeping area. Having completed her nightly routine, she climbed into her small cot and for the first time, wondered if he had actually returned to kiss her or if she had imagined the entire scenario.
Was she so desperate for a moment’s joy in her life that she’s woven such a fantasy? Or had the Commander actually returned?
It didn’t matter. Whether a fantasy or reality, the outcome of incredibly sweet dreams would be the same.
She drifted off with a smile on her face and the words ‘we’, ‘their’ and ‘they’ floating in her mind.
“One day.” Those were his words.
He made her believe.
Author: bsg_aussiegirl
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura and Bill
Rating: M
“I would like everyone to acknowledge Commander Adama’s part in this project,” Laura Roslin said smiling across to where he stood staring intently at his boots. She knew he hated having to attend the ceremony at all. According to Billy he had protested quite a bit.
“Some of you may not know but the concept for Holidayland was entirely Commander Adama’s idea. I simply mentioned to him that it was unfortunate that the children of the fleet were confined to cramped ships and that it was unhealthy for them not to run around and indulge in some form of exercise. He and his crew participated in collecting, repairing and modifying the gymnasium equipment you will find here today. In fact, many of the playground items here in Holidayland originated from the Galactica. So, could you please join with me in thanking Commander Adama.”
She brought her hands together to clap, turned slightly in his direction, and smiled graciously at him. His nod to her barely perceptible, he remained standing with his hands clasped firmly in front of his body. She knew he didn’t like all the attention, but she wanted people to know that William Adama wasn’t a military tyrant.
As she finished her speech, Michael Staines, the official photographer for the fleet newsletter, caught her eye and gestured with his camera. Michael Staines was a short chunky sort of fellow who she always imagined became interested in photography solely to meet women whom otherwise would have been unavailable.
She knew she had to play the politician; therefore, she smiled and non-verbally responded affirmatively.
“Would you like me to stand in front of the playground?” she asked. The playground itself had now been invaded by a group of rowdy children that were lucky enough to be chosen as the first to trial the new equipment.
“Yes, that would be nice. And maybe Commander Adama could stand next to you?”
Her gaze shifted to Adama’s face. For once, he was openly showing his emotions; it was quite obvious he had no desire to be in the photograph.
“Come on, Commander,” she teased. “I need someone to make me look good.”
He sighed, as if she was asking him to sit in an electric chair. Nevertheless, he moved to stand beside her.
“Don’t forget to smile,” she whispered mischievously.
“Hmph,” he grunted, her words evoking the opposite reaction in his expression.
“Closer,” Michael Staines ordered.
“Excuse me?” Adama asked.
“You need to get closer so that I can fit you both in the photograph,” Michael explained.
“Well, if I can’t fit, we won’t worry,” Adama said.
She grabbed his arm and laughed.
“You’re not getting out of it that easy, Commander,” she said, holding him firmly in place. Moving in closer, she molded her body against his. She found, with their similar heights, she fit snugly into the space beneath his left arm that he automatically placed behind her back. She reached out and placed her hand on his opposite arm.
Her playfulness suddenly vanished. She had touched him before, of course, but this pose seemed much more intimate. She could feel the hardness of his chest as her face tilted into and almost leant against it. The scent of his shaving cream and soap reached her senses and she found it altogether too pleasant. The rough woolen material of his pants rubbing against the bare skin of her legs, suddenly way too many illicit thoughts were swirling out of control in her mind. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers involuntarily dug into his muscular arm.
“Smile,” Michael ordered and she plastered a strained one onto her face.
The photographer eventually agreed that there was a suitable shot and she disentangled herself from Adama with an apologetic look. His face was once again a stoic mask, but she thought - for just a fleeting moment she caught a whisper of amusement dancing in his perfect blue eyes.
“Thank you, Commander,” she said in a voice much more husky than she had intended.
“Anytime,” he murmured.
Wandering off, she started chatting with the children. She decided being amongst them was a safer bet. Even though she knew from experience children were extremely observant, she hoped they wouldn’t come to the same conclusion over her flushed features and breathlessness as the various reporters and fleet captains attending today’s ceremony might.
She was on her knees, heavily involved in a discussion with an eleven year-old girl when she felt a hand gently touch her elbow.
“I’m afraid our raptor is due to leave Madam President,” the Commander told her.
“Already?” She checked her watch. “Oh,” she added when she realized she had been mingling with the children for over an hour.
“Maybe you could come back another day,” a child named Susie said.
“That would be lovely,” she said, giving the girl a quick hug.
As she stood, a six year-old tugged at her hand.
“Yes, darling?” she asked, crouching back down to the child’s level.
“Are you married to Commander Adam?” the girl asked, inadvertently leaving the ‘a’ off of his name.
“No,” she snorted, even though she couldn’t deny the image the idea created caused a slow burning sensation between her legs. “We just work together,” she said as she affectionately flicked the child on the nose, determinedly buried her sharp wanton urges to go and bid farewell to the other children she had been talking with previously.
“You’re very good with them,” Adama said a few minutes later as they made their way towards the hangar deck.
“You can take the teacher out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the teacher,” she joked.
“Hmm,” he murmured.
They remained silent during the raptor flight. However, as she noticed lately, it was not an uncomfortable silence. Theirs seemed companionable - a moment’s peace and escape for both of them.
After the raptor landed, she unclipped her restraints and he, as always, politely aided her as she alighted from the shuttle.
“Holidayland really was a lovely idea,” she said as she turned to bid him farewell after they reached her office. “I could do with a holiday,” she added, nodding to the piles of paperwork strewn across her desk.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he asked.
“Sorry?”
“If we went on a holiday, where would you like it to be? By the sea, swimming and lazing on the beach? Or in the mountains, skiing?”
She shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear the image of him wet and wearing only swimming trunks out of her brain. Her mouth also went dry with the thought of them lying naked on a rug by a fireplace. Each scenario was both attractive and erotic.
She finally found her voice. “I’ve never skied,” she said.
“Me neither,” he admitted. “I guess we could just huddle up in front of a fire to keep warm then.”
She felt heat spread across her chest as she assumed that his huddle up and hers meant the same. Suddenly embarrassed, she berated herself. She was dying of cancer. She would be going on a permanent holiday soon enough. There was little point to making plans for the future.
“I don’t think we need worry about such things right now,” she said, firmly reinstating her presidential face.
“No, no, of course not. We have much larger things to worry about,” he murmured in agreement.
“Yes, yes. Goodnight Commander,” she said, effectively dismissing him back to his raptor.
“Goodnight Madam President.” He turned and left the office.
She slowly removed her glasses and hooked them onto her jacket.
The ‘we’ in his statements stood out like a red traffic light. He had said it so naturally. Made it seem like it hadn’t even crossed his mind that they would not be together.
Seven years ago, before Richard’s first presidential campaign, she had gone on her last proper holiday with her sister, Sandra. Going all out and indulging themselves, they’d stayed at a resort with a swimming pool and tennis courts, a day spa where they had been treated to a massage and champagne and a seafood restaurant where they had stuffed themselves full of delicacies. It had been perfect.
She closed her eyes and hummed, amusing herself by picturing a holiday with William Adama. His hands looked as if he would be well suited for the role of masseur, she thought evocatively. She could almost feel those hands rubbing up and down her arms. Her reverie of his slow strokes caused the hairs on her arms to stand on end and goose bumps to form.
“One day,” he rumbled near her ear.
She opened her eyes and stared up into his.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he asked again.
His hands and that gentle rhythm that he continued to build on her arms felt real. His deep voice, both masculine and coated with honey floating around her ears, sounded real. His probing eyes, expectantly awaiting an answer to his question, looked real. His mouth, with its full lips, both soft and dominant as they descended and met hers, tasted altogether too real.
“Sea and sand or snow?” he repeated, claiming her mouth with a series of small gentle kisses full of promise.
“I can’t decide,” she whispered.
“I want to make you happy,” he told her. She hummed.
“Both,” she said, before raising herself up onto her tiptoes and tasting his lips again. She decided she liked his flavor. It made her smile. “Either. Any. You decide.”
“Okay. Sea and sand it is,” he said. “Maybe we could go sailing. I can just see your hair floating wildly around your face as you stand on the deck in the wind. Plus I’d like to see you in a bikini,” he added with a chuckle before leaning down and pressing his lips against hers in a sweet whisper touch.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“I’ll look forward to it. Goodnight.” Once again, he left her standing in the middle of her office with her eyes closed, smiling and humming.
She eventually kicked off her shoes and made her way to her Colonial One sleeping area. Having completed her nightly routine, she climbed into her small cot and for the first time, wondered if he had actually returned to kiss her or if she had imagined the entire scenario.
Was she so desperate for a moment’s joy in her life that she’s woven such a fantasy? Or had the Commander actually returned?
It didn’t matter. Whether a fantasy or reality, the outcome of incredibly sweet dreams would be the same.
She drifted off with a smile on her face and the words ‘we’, ‘their’ and ‘they’ floating in her mind.
“One day.” Those were his words.
He made her believe.