(no subject)
Title: The Five First Times Bill Saw The President’s Rack
Rating: K
Summary: No matter how well you think you know someone, there are always moments in which you see them for the first time.
A/N: Spoilers up to The Hub. This was supposed to start out as vaguely fluffy, but then it took a bit of a bittersweet turn, I think. And I'm not RDM dressed up as a girl, either. Ergo, I don't own Battlestar Galactica or any of it's characters.
Commander William Adama could never truly say he was looking forward to his retirement, being a military man at heart, but on the day in question, a small betraying part of him, deeply imbedded in his chest, was thrilled at the thought.
No more, well, commanding. No more uniform. No more early mornings. No more having to imagine the sunrise. No more regularity. Becoming a civilian again would be, he thought, almost as exciting as when he first entered the military. The weather would constantly change. Small decisions such as clothing would have to be made-every day. Cooking would be an adventure, too-eating something completely different every day, fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, spices, flavours, herbs?
Bill Adama considered himself a lucky man.
Until, that is, he was confronted with Madam Secretary herself, Laura Roslin.
They had corresponded briefly at one point, having to go over minor details of how to turn his ship into a workable museum. He had always been curt during these conversations, but then so had she.
So when he first saw her on his ship, all thoughts in his mind of becoming a civilian again, he decided that he may as well get one last chance of being expected to ogle a woman with no tact (the perks of being in the military, a younger him thought).
So his eyes went directly to her rack.
It wasn’t much, considering it was clothed in a jacket, but up close and looking down at her, the red lace (of a bra? A top? He didn’t think he’d ever find out) shone through, a comforting hold on each bosom.
That’s a nice rack, he thought.
+++
A frakkin’ miracle.
That’s what this was, he thought. Couldn’t be just a coincidence, no matter how bizarre Gaius Baltar acted, Bill could not think of anything the man would have to gain from keeping the Cylon baby and Laura Roslin alive.
Not that Bill wasn’t thankful that Baltar wasn’t going to be President any time soon-there would be another coup, a mere half year since the last one. A historical moment, one that would surely paint him in the very worst light, but something that he’d be prepared to do.
So as Cottle held up the scans and announced them clear of any cancer whatsoever, Bill just stared at them, marveling at how clear, how perfect they now seemed.
He looked towards her bed, a clearly relieved Billy sitting at her bedside, blocking his view of the woman, the leader, they had nearly lost.
He looked back to the scans, never being so pleased to see nothing at all.
+++
He had seen the red out of the colour of his eye, mainly focused on the feel of the alluvial deposits skimming through his fingers. He hadn’t felt earth in a long time, and part of his tradition for going planet side was to test out the soil-see what this planet was truly made of.
The shockingly red dress sat down next to him, making quips about playing in the sand, and it felt like he could barely keep up.
“How romantic.” She finished with a grin, leaning forward slightly.
He took a glance at her, try to decipher what exactly she was wearing, mindful that at any second she could look right back at him, so like magnets, his eyes traveled down her neck and to the green top she wore underneath the red covering her arms.
There they were, slightly covered in a lace pattern, loose and free, together.
It seemed strange that the appearance of her breasts should reflect how relaxed he had seen her become since handing the presidency over to Baltar, but they did. Her hair seemed more vibrant, too.
“That’s a nice colour on you.”
+++
Sitting opposite each other on Kobol, apologies past, and silence upon them, Bill Adama and Laura Roslin just looked at each other’s chests.
She was wondering if the scar was as big as she truly remembered. As horrific, as red, as brutal as it was when he was laying on that gurney a vulnerable man.
He was wondering if he could actually see the cancer visibly, or was it just by touch. Laura Roslin’s body was betraying her, and all Bill could think was if it was as ugly as the word it was defined by.
Cancer.
Bill and Laura went down onto Kobol complete strangers, but met up as friends.
+++
She was there. There she was. Standing tall, hands behind her back, watching him back as he stepped off the Raptor wing, their eyes never breaking contact.
This was the woman he loved. Love. This is the woman he loves.
“I love you.”
This is the woman who loves him back.
She is still enveloped in his arms, a place he (and she) never wants her to leave, when he gently pushes her back and just looks at her face, a mirror of the love he knows is shining through his own features.
“About time.”
She’s smiling, glistening eyes and all as he lays a kiss to her temple, bringing her back into his arms again, fully prepared to never let go of her again.
They’re crushed against each other’s chests when he sees more than feels her heart pulsing heavily through her breasts. She’s going to live, he knows.
Love can cure anything.
Rating: K
Summary: No matter how well you think you know someone, there are always moments in which you see them for the first time.
A/N: Spoilers up to The Hub. This was supposed to start out as vaguely fluffy, but then it took a bit of a bittersweet turn, I think. And I'm not RDM dressed up as a girl, either. Ergo, I don't own Battlestar Galactica or any of it's characters.
Commander William Adama could never truly say he was looking forward to his retirement, being a military man at heart, but on the day in question, a small betraying part of him, deeply imbedded in his chest, was thrilled at the thought.
No more, well, commanding. No more uniform. No more early mornings. No more having to imagine the sunrise. No more regularity. Becoming a civilian again would be, he thought, almost as exciting as when he first entered the military. The weather would constantly change. Small decisions such as clothing would have to be made-every day. Cooking would be an adventure, too-eating something completely different every day, fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, spices, flavours, herbs?
Bill Adama considered himself a lucky man.
Until, that is, he was confronted with Madam Secretary herself, Laura Roslin.
They had corresponded briefly at one point, having to go over minor details of how to turn his ship into a workable museum. He had always been curt during these conversations, but then so had she.
So when he first saw her on his ship, all thoughts in his mind of becoming a civilian again, he decided that he may as well get one last chance of being expected to ogle a woman with no tact (the perks of being in the military, a younger him thought).
So his eyes went directly to her rack.
It wasn’t much, considering it was clothed in a jacket, but up close and looking down at her, the red lace (of a bra? A top? He didn’t think he’d ever find out) shone through, a comforting hold on each bosom.
That’s a nice rack, he thought.
+++
A frakkin’ miracle.
That’s what this was, he thought. Couldn’t be just a coincidence, no matter how bizarre Gaius Baltar acted, Bill could not think of anything the man would have to gain from keeping the Cylon baby and Laura Roslin alive.
Not that Bill wasn’t thankful that Baltar wasn’t going to be President any time soon-there would be another coup, a mere half year since the last one. A historical moment, one that would surely paint him in the very worst light, but something that he’d be prepared to do.
So as Cottle held up the scans and announced them clear of any cancer whatsoever, Bill just stared at them, marveling at how clear, how perfect they now seemed.
He looked towards her bed, a clearly relieved Billy sitting at her bedside, blocking his view of the woman, the leader, they had nearly lost.
He looked back to the scans, never being so pleased to see nothing at all.
+++
He had seen the red out of the colour of his eye, mainly focused on the feel of the alluvial deposits skimming through his fingers. He hadn’t felt earth in a long time, and part of his tradition for going planet side was to test out the soil-see what this planet was truly made of.
The shockingly red dress sat down next to him, making quips about playing in the sand, and it felt like he could barely keep up.
“How romantic.” She finished with a grin, leaning forward slightly.
He took a glance at her, try to decipher what exactly she was wearing, mindful that at any second she could look right back at him, so like magnets, his eyes traveled down her neck and to the green top she wore underneath the red covering her arms.
There they were, slightly covered in a lace pattern, loose and free, together.
It seemed strange that the appearance of her breasts should reflect how relaxed he had seen her become since handing the presidency over to Baltar, but they did. Her hair seemed more vibrant, too.
“That’s a nice colour on you.”
+++
Sitting opposite each other on Kobol, apologies past, and silence upon them, Bill Adama and Laura Roslin just looked at each other’s chests.
She was wondering if the scar was as big as she truly remembered. As horrific, as red, as brutal as it was when he was laying on that gurney a vulnerable man.
He was wondering if he could actually see the cancer visibly, or was it just by touch. Laura Roslin’s body was betraying her, and all Bill could think was if it was as ugly as the word it was defined by.
Cancer.
Bill and Laura went down onto Kobol complete strangers, but met up as friends.
+++
She was there. There she was. Standing tall, hands behind her back, watching him back as he stepped off the Raptor wing, their eyes never breaking contact.
This was the woman he loved. Love. This is the woman he loves.
“I love you.”
This is the woman who loves him back.
She is still enveloped in his arms, a place he (and she) never wants her to leave, when he gently pushes her back and just looks at her face, a mirror of the love he knows is shining through his own features.
“About time.”
She’s smiling, glistening eyes and all as he lays a kiss to her temple, bringing her back into his arms again, fully prepared to never let go of her again.
They’re crushed against each other’s chests when he sees more than feels her heart pulsing heavily through her breasts. She’s going to live, he knows.
Love can cure anything.