Happy birthday, Bugs!!!!
Title: About Last Night...
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
Word count: 2100
Genre: Humour, Romance
A/N: Written as a birthday gift to my bestie, bugsfic. Have a lovely day. As luck would have it, this fic fits nicely into 'prompt 8: the adamas'. But, alas!, I've not been able to limit it to one chapter.
Thanks to lacklusterfic for letting me know I wasn't completely nutty (again) and being the resident expert on Caprica.
Chapter One:
“Where?” she asked.
“Here.” She shivered as he held her hair back and bent to breathe the one word against the delicate skin behind her right earlobe.
She traced her finger over the character illustrated in the book. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and she told him so.
“It means you will be my last, my ultimate. There will be no others beyond you.”
An olive skinned man shuffled over to them and unfurled a crimson swatch of velvet. A neat row of silver utensils shone in the New Caprican moonlight, reflecting up at them ethereally. With spindly fingers, he picked up one particular ornate device shaped like a pen and slowly removed a protective cap to reveal a needle.
Laura woke up with a gasp.
“Hey. You okay? Bad dream?”
She blinked over at the voice’s owner. Bill was standing in front of the small looking glass she had set up in the corner of her tent. His face was soaped up with white foam and in one hand he gripped a straight razor.
“I don’t remember you arriving with shaving gear,” she blurted out as a ‘good morning’.
“Didn’t. Borrowed it from Anders,” he explained, also not bothering with any formal greeting.
“I’m thinking you’ll elaborate to why soon,” she quipped.
He chuckled, and turned back to the mirror. “I need to look respectable,” he said as he began to scrape the old-fashioned blade across the stubble of his cheek. She watched his slow, careful movements, mesmerised.
She eventually forced her eyes away, but only as far as the clothes rack just beyond his shoulder. Her red skirt and wrap were hanging neatly upon it.
“Bill, you always look respectable,” she grumbled, wriggling under the cot’s blanket to feel what she was wearing. Her underwear was still in place. And she was wearing the taupe camisole.
“How’s your head?” he asked cheerily, changing the subject.
“Spongy.”
“When you’re fully awake, we’d better get going.”
“Going? Where exactly are we going?”
“A wedding.”
Their lips brushed lightly together. They glanced back over to the priest self-consciously. He mumbled to himself and shuffled away into the night.
They stood alone in the temple, the flickering candles bathing them in a warm, romantic glow. They swayed together and kissed again, their lips parting and their tongues tangling.
Slack jawed, she stared up at Bill. He was patting his face dry with a towel and looking down at her expectantly.
His tunic was hanging open, showing off a set of grey tanks beneath. Her fingers itched to...
“Sorry?” she prompted, digging her nails into the cot’s mattress.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” He turned and removed her skirt from the rack, draping his towel in its place over the hanger. “While you dress,” he added, holding out the flowing red material in her direction.
She shook her head and accepted the skirt. Still, ever the gentleman, he busied himself with making a cup of tea while she climbed out of the bed and shimmied the skirt up over her hips.
“This will make you feel better,” he murmured as he passed her the steaming mug.
She nodded her thanks and took a long sip of the beverage, letting it burn down across her sore throat. Straight away, she began to cough. “Now I remember why I gave up smoking,” she croaked, quickly taking another sip.
He lowered himself to the edge of her cot and bent to drag on his boots. She spun around in a vague circle, searching for her own.
“Here,” he said, toeing them out from under the cot. “Sit down,” he ordered. He moved to crouch on the ground in front of her, helping her on with them and tying the laces securely as she continued to drink her tea.
Along with his shave, he’d obviously cleaned his teeth somehow. He smelt nice. She could detect a faint trace of mint on his breath. The tangy scent of the soap he’d used to shave with was still fresh in the air, along with another naturally earthy odour rising from his skin; both of which were making the blood pump wildly through her veins.
Before she could do anything embarrassing, he straightened and buttoned up his uniform.
She struggled to her feet, glancing down to make sure the bodice of her dress was sufficiently modest.
“Bit late now,” he teased, handing her the red wrap.
“Are you at least going to give me a few moments to brush my teeth?”
“Yep, but that’s it. We’ll be late.”
“Small mercies,” she grumbled as she squeezed a tiny bit of paste on her brush. “Are you going to tell me whose wedding?” she asked between scrubs.
“You don’t want to guess?”
“Mmm... Saul and Ellen, renewing their vows.”
He laughed. “No.”
“You went to their wedding?” she asked over her shoulder.
“No. They were already married when we met.”
“So you never had a chance to talk him out of it,” she said, giving him a cheeky look in the mirror.
“No.”
She turned, wiping her mouth with her towel. “Would you have?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“Have what?”
“Tried to talk him out of it.”
He looked down at his hand and twisted the ring there. “Every man has to make his own choices. I might have reminded him of the seriousness of such a decision. Marriage isn’t something you should attempt for the wrong reasons.”
“So...” She looked away from his ring and studied the area where his thick hair curled around his right ear. Surely he wouldn’t be talking so casually about weddings if... “You wouldn’t get married for the wrong reasons... As a joke, for example?”
“A joke? Why would anyone get married as a joke?”
They were stargazing. He pointed out the Fleet. She teased him about his singing.
“Is this how we’re going to spend all the rest of our days?”
They were holding hands.
“For love and sacrifice. This is how you shall spend all the rest of your days -- as one.”
They snorted at the uncanny similarity in the words being quoted.
“This is not a matter to be entered into lightly or without a clear sensibility,” the tall man in flowing robes chastised them in a grave tone.
She shrugged, turning back towards the mirror.
“You look beautiful.”
She giggled, but then screwed up her features. “My hair!” she cried.
“What about it?”
“It’s sticking out everywhere. It looks like I’ve… People will think you’ve… We’ve…”
“Slept together?” he offered.
“Yes,” she hissed, patting down her hair as best she could. The windswept look it would have to be, she realised.
“We did sleep together. I didn’t realise you’d be so opposed to the idea in the cold light of day,” he said quietly, all the teasing laughter suddenly gone from his tone.
She turned, seeing the hurt etched on his features. “No!” She reached out and clung onto his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way, Bill. But I have a confession. I don’t remember exactly what we did last night.”
His muscles tensed beneath her touch. “What do you remember?” he asked.
She shook her head in an effort to clear her muddled thoughts. Bill stared down at her with an anxious gaze.
“Bits and pieces,” she admitted finally. “I remember you singing.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face at her teasing.
“If I embarrassed you in any way or acted like some sort of tramp--”
He let out a ragged sigh. “You could never be anything but a lady; even when you’re slightly inebriated.”
She hummed. “Slightly?” she repeated, uncertain.
“You were charming. You’re always charming,” he assured her.
“Now who’s being charming?” she joked.
Smiling still, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear -- her right ear.
His gaze wandered from her hair down to her lips. He was about to kiss her. She opened her mouth, inviting him, but...
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and retrieved his glasses before donning them. Then, as if by magic, he produced hers. “Let’s get going,” he said as he carefully slid them onto her face.
“You still haven’t told me whose wedding,” she griped. Didn’t he want to kiss her when she wasn’t dying or drunk?
“Kara and Sam’s.”
“Sam’s?” she repeated, frowning up at the glare of the rising sun.
“Yeah. Who else would Kara marry?”
She pursed her lips and never answered. Who else indeed? But what did she know? She didn’t even know if, after all the time she’d spent avoiding the institution, she was now married.
She lifted her finger up to her ear where his fingers had brushed gently just a moment ago, experimentally touching the sensitive skin there that rarely was exposed to the sun. Surely she would feel it if she had been tattooed. Or seen something in the mirror.
She silently berated herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her because she’d had some silly dream.
It was probably something to do with the cigarette she’d got from that Oracle. She should have never have listened to that crazy woman.
She licked her lips, suddenly famished. “Muffins. Chocolate muffins,” she said hopefully, causing him to let out a rumble of laughter.
“We don’t have time. Although, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a coffee. If I don’t have coffee soon, I might just pass out again.”
“You passed out?” she asked incredulously, linking their hands so that she could more comfortably stroll alongside him down the New Caprican laneway.
“Yeah.”
“So we never...”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good,” she said firmly.
Bill stopped in his tracks. “Good?” he groused.
“Yes, Bill,” she said in her most placating tone. “When we have sex, I’d like to think it was special enough to remember.”
He rewarded her comment with a toothy grin before grasping her hand again and continuing to lead her along the rocky path.
They’d walked along in companionable silence for quite a while when Bill suddenly barked out one word: “Nuts.”
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“That tent has nuts.”
She grimaced across to one of the several small tents that had sprung up over the settlement for the specific purpose of selling refreshments to the revellers on Founders’ Day.
“You make me feel more hungover than I really am with statements like that,” she murmured. “And I thought we had to hurry!”
“Sorry,” he said, bending to, at last, kiss her. It was just a quick peck on the thin exasperated line of her mouth. “Don’t go away.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest as he almost skipped into the tent.
Then, reluctantly, she found herself smiling as he enthusiastically negotiated with the trader.
His joyous mood this morning was starting to rub off on her. He had to be feeling the physical effects of the alcohol and herbal cigarettes they’d enjoyed last night as much as she was, but clearly he’d woken quite a bit more even-tempered. In fact, he was so damn cheerful, she was a touch suspicious that he was still intoxicated.
A moment later he exited the tent.
“Nuts?” he offered, holding a brown paper bag in her direction.
She tentatively popped one of the round kernels into her mouth. She was now literally starving.
She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and studied him a little more dispassionately as he swallowed the nuts hungrily down. His face in the sunlight was much paler than usual. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Every time he looked around, he squinted. She was right; he wasn’t as unaffected by their previous night’s activities as he was pretending to be.
Reality suddenly dawned on her. When she’d asked him whether or not they’d had sex, he had answered with a ‘not that I know of’. “You don’t remember everything either!” she accused.
“Nope,” he agreed casually without even raising an eyebrow. “It’s all a bit hazy. I’m blaming that concoction you brought with you.”
“It doesn’t worry you that there are gaps?”
“Nope.” He stopped biting down on the nuts and lifted her hand. He placed a small kiss on the back of her knuckles. “The parts I remember were good.”
She hummed, his soft touch infusing her with contentment. Their gazes met and held, and her heart quickened at the promises she saw dancing in his blue irises.
“Come on, let’s get to this wedding.”
End of chapter one
Link to the next chapter
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
Word count: 2100
Genre: Humour, Romance
A/N: Written as a birthday gift to my bestie, bugsfic. Have a lovely day. As luck would have it, this fic fits nicely into 'prompt 8: the adamas'. But, alas!, I've not been able to limit it to one chapter.
Thanks to lacklusterfic for letting me know I wasn't completely nutty (again) and being the resident expert on Caprica.
Chapter One:
“Where?” she asked.
“Here.” She shivered as he held her hair back and bent to breathe the one word against the delicate skin behind her right earlobe.
She traced her finger over the character illustrated in the book. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and she told him so.
“It means you will be my last, my ultimate. There will be no others beyond you.”
An olive skinned man shuffled over to them and unfurled a crimson swatch of velvet. A neat row of silver utensils shone in the New Caprican moonlight, reflecting up at them ethereally. With spindly fingers, he picked up one particular ornate device shaped like a pen and slowly removed a protective cap to reveal a needle.
Laura woke up with a gasp.
“Hey. You okay? Bad dream?”
She blinked over at the voice’s owner. Bill was standing in front of the small looking glass she had set up in the corner of her tent. His face was soaped up with white foam and in one hand he gripped a straight razor.
“I don’t remember you arriving with shaving gear,” she blurted out as a ‘good morning’.
“Didn’t. Borrowed it from Anders,” he explained, also not bothering with any formal greeting.
“I’m thinking you’ll elaborate to why soon,” she quipped.
He chuckled, and turned back to the mirror. “I need to look respectable,” he said as he began to scrape the old-fashioned blade across the stubble of his cheek. She watched his slow, careful movements, mesmerised.
She eventually forced her eyes away, but only as far as the clothes rack just beyond his shoulder. Her red skirt and wrap were hanging neatly upon it.
“Bill, you always look respectable,” she grumbled, wriggling under the cot’s blanket to feel what she was wearing. Her underwear was still in place. And she was wearing the taupe camisole.
“How’s your head?” he asked cheerily, changing the subject.
“Spongy.”
“When you’re fully awake, we’d better get going.”
“Going? Where exactly are we going?”
“A wedding.”
Their lips brushed lightly together. They glanced back over to the priest self-consciously. He mumbled to himself and shuffled away into the night.
They stood alone in the temple, the flickering candles bathing them in a warm, romantic glow. They swayed together and kissed again, their lips parting and their tongues tangling.
Slack jawed, she stared up at Bill. He was patting his face dry with a towel and looking down at her expectantly.
His tunic was hanging open, showing off a set of grey tanks beneath. Her fingers itched to...
“Sorry?” she prompted, digging her nails into the cot’s mattress.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” He turned and removed her skirt from the rack, draping his towel in its place over the hanger. “While you dress,” he added, holding out the flowing red material in her direction.
She shook her head and accepted the skirt. Still, ever the gentleman, he busied himself with making a cup of tea while she climbed out of the bed and shimmied the skirt up over her hips.
“This will make you feel better,” he murmured as he passed her the steaming mug.
She nodded her thanks and took a long sip of the beverage, letting it burn down across her sore throat. Straight away, she began to cough. “Now I remember why I gave up smoking,” she croaked, quickly taking another sip.
He lowered himself to the edge of her cot and bent to drag on his boots. She spun around in a vague circle, searching for her own.
“Here,” he said, toeing them out from under the cot. “Sit down,” he ordered. He moved to crouch on the ground in front of her, helping her on with them and tying the laces securely as she continued to drink her tea.
Along with his shave, he’d obviously cleaned his teeth somehow. He smelt nice. She could detect a faint trace of mint on his breath. The tangy scent of the soap he’d used to shave with was still fresh in the air, along with another naturally earthy odour rising from his skin; both of which were making the blood pump wildly through her veins.
Before she could do anything embarrassing, he straightened and buttoned up his uniform.
She struggled to her feet, glancing down to make sure the bodice of her dress was sufficiently modest.
“Bit late now,” he teased, handing her the red wrap.
“Are you at least going to give me a few moments to brush my teeth?”
“Yep, but that’s it. We’ll be late.”
“Small mercies,” she grumbled as she squeezed a tiny bit of paste on her brush. “Are you going to tell me whose wedding?” she asked between scrubs.
“You don’t want to guess?”
“Mmm... Saul and Ellen, renewing their vows.”
He laughed. “No.”
“You went to their wedding?” she asked over her shoulder.
“No. They were already married when we met.”
“So you never had a chance to talk him out of it,” she said, giving him a cheeky look in the mirror.
“No.”
She turned, wiping her mouth with her towel. “Would you have?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“Have what?”
“Tried to talk him out of it.”
He looked down at his hand and twisted the ring there. “Every man has to make his own choices. I might have reminded him of the seriousness of such a decision. Marriage isn’t something you should attempt for the wrong reasons.”
“So...” She looked away from his ring and studied the area where his thick hair curled around his right ear. Surely he wouldn’t be talking so casually about weddings if... “You wouldn’t get married for the wrong reasons... As a joke, for example?”
“A joke? Why would anyone get married as a joke?”
They were stargazing. He pointed out the Fleet. She teased him about his singing.
“Is this how we’re going to spend all the rest of our days?”
They were holding hands.
“For love and sacrifice. This is how you shall spend all the rest of your days -- as one.”
They snorted at the uncanny similarity in the words being quoted.
“This is not a matter to be entered into lightly or without a clear sensibility,” the tall man in flowing robes chastised them in a grave tone.
She shrugged, turning back towards the mirror.
“You look beautiful.”
She giggled, but then screwed up her features. “My hair!” she cried.
“What about it?”
“It’s sticking out everywhere. It looks like I’ve… People will think you’ve… We’ve…”
“Slept together?” he offered.
“Yes,” she hissed, patting down her hair as best she could. The windswept look it would have to be, she realised.
“We did sleep together. I didn’t realise you’d be so opposed to the idea in the cold light of day,” he said quietly, all the teasing laughter suddenly gone from his tone.
She turned, seeing the hurt etched on his features. “No!” She reached out and clung onto his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way, Bill. But I have a confession. I don’t remember exactly what we did last night.”
His muscles tensed beneath her touch. “What do you remember?” he asked.
She shook her head in an effort to clear her muddled thoughts. Bill stared down at her with an anxious gaze.
“Bits and pieces,” she admitted finally. “I remember you singing.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face at her teasing.
“If I embarrassed you in any way or acted like some sort of tramp--”
He let out a ragged sigh. “You could never be anything but a lady; even when you’re slightly inebriated.”
She hummed. “Slightly?” she repeated, uncertain.
“You were charming. You’re always charming,” he assured her.
“Now who’s being charming?” she joked.
Smiling still, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear -- her right ear.
His gaze wandered from her hair down to her lips. He was about to kiss her. She opened her mouth, inviting him, but...
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and retrieved his glasses before donning them. Then, as if by magic, he produced hers. “Let’s get going,” he said as he carefully slid them onto her face.
“You still haven’t told me whose wedding,” she griped. Didn’t he want to kiss her when she wasn’t dying or drunk?
“Kara and Sam’s.”
“Sam’s?” she repeated, frowning up at the glare of the rising sun.
“Yeah. Who else would Kara marry?”
She pursed her lips and never answered. Who else indeed? But what did she know? She didn’t even know if, after all the time she’d spent avoiding the institution, she was now married.
She lifted her finger up to her ear where his fingers had brushed gently just a moment ago, experimentally touching the sensitive skin there that rarely was exposed to the sun. Surely she would feel it if she had been tattooed. Or seen something in the mirror.
She silently berated herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her because she’d had some silly dream.
It was probably something to do with the cigarette she’d got from that Oracle. She should have never have listened to that crazy woman.
She licked her lips, suddenly famished. “Muffins. Chocolate muffins,” she said hopefully, causing him to let out a rumble of laughter.
“We don’t have time. Although, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a coffee. If I don’t have coffee soon, I might just pass out again.”
“You passed out?” she asked incredulously, linking their hands so that she could more comfortably stroll alongside him down the New Caprican laneway.
“Yeah.”
“So we never...”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good,” she said firmly.
Bill stopped in his tracks. “Good?” he groused.
“Yes, Bill,” she said in her most placating tone. “When we have sex, I’d like to think it was special enough to remember.”
He rewarded her comment with a toothy grin before grasping her hand again and continuing to lead her along the rocky path.
They’d walked along in companionable silence for quite a while when Bill suddenly barked out one word: “Nuts.”
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“That tent has nuts.”
She grimaced across to one of the several small tents that had sprung up over the settlement for the specific purpose of selling refreshments to the revellers on Founders’ Day.
“You make me feel more hungover than I really am with statements like that,” she murmured. “And I thought we had to hurry!”
“Sorry,” he said, bending to, at last, kiss her. It was just a quick peck on the thin exasperated line of her mouth. “Don’t go away.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest as he almost skipped into the tent.
Then, reluctantly, she found herself smiling as he enthusiastically negotiated with the trader.
His joyous mood this morning was starting to rub off on her. He had to be feeling the physical effects of the alcohol and herbal cigarettes they’d enjoyed last night as much as she was, but clearly he’d woken quite a bit more even-tempered. In fact, he was so damn cheerful, she was a touch suspicious that he was still intoxicated.
A moment later he exited the tent.
“Nuts?” he offered, holding a brown paper bag in her direction.
She tentatively popped one of the round kernels into her mouth. She was now literally starving.
She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and studied him a little more dispassionately as he swallowed the nuts hungrily down. His face in the sunlight was much paler than usual. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Every time he looked around, he squinted. She was right; he wasn’t as unaffected by their previous night’s activities as he was pretending to be.
Reality suddenly dawned on her. When she’d asked him whether or not they’d had sex, he had answered with a ‘not that I know of’. “You don’t remember everything either!” she accused.
“Nope,” he agreed casually without even raising an eyebrow. “It’s all a bit hazy. I’m blaming that concoction you brought with you.”
“It doesn’t worry you that there are gaps?”
“Nope.” He stopped biting down on the nuts and lifted her hand. He placed a small kiss on the back of her knuckles. “The parts I remember were good.”
She hummed, his soft touch infusing her with contentment. Their gazes met and held, and her heart quickened at the promises she saw dancing in his blue irises.
“Come on, let’s get to this wedding.”
End of chapter one
Link to the next chapter