Secret Valentine Bonus: Via Familia
Title: Via Familia
Author: afrakaday
Rating: MA
Word Count: 9200
A/N: This is the smutty prequel to the Secret Valentine fic I wrote for yubsie's prompt for grandbaby fic, Inaugural Baby. Part of this story actually was originally "conceived" (sorry for the pun) as a response to whatever_lj's Holiday Wish prompt, "Bill, Laura, Kara, and art," but it kind of stalled out until I got the grandbaby prompt on top of it. Yes, there will have to be a third installment of this series (!) with Bill and Laura's wedding and the big art reveal. In the meantime: enjoy some smut! Many thanks as always to nixmom for her beta.
Laura paused in the doorway, balancing the heavy box between her hip and the jamb so she could wipe the sweat from her brow. Moving was a bitch, she mused. But worth it, she concluded as Bill came into view wearing only Fleet-issue tanks and cargo pants.
They had closed on the two-story brick home in a leafy suburb of Caprica City the previous week. Movers had delivered their furnishings and possessions from her condo, Bill's apartment, and the things he'd kept in storage from Galactica, and after a few days of unpacking, they were planning to spend the night for the first time in their new home.
She laughed inwardly at the thought of the year-long progression of their unlikely courtship culminating in cohabitation and even owning a home together. If it had been a mistake to sleep with the gruff Commander following the decommissioning ceremony on the Galactica, it was one she would never regret. She'd both been handed a death sentence and ended things with Adar that day, after all; little wonder, then, that she'd been more forward than she otherwise might have been when she recognized her attraction to Bill as such.
* ~ * ~ *
She’d thought him horrid at first, condescending, intransigent, and unwilling to listen to her suggestions. Of course, she had more or less taunted him; I heard you’re one of those people who’s actually afraid of computers. Still, it was an inauspicious beginning.
His speech had resonated with her, though; Why are we as a people worth saving? Sooner or later the day comes when you can’t hide from the things you’ve done anymore. His unexpected statements had taken her thoughts off herself and the diagnosis she’d just received to think about the bigger picture. She was grateful for the distraction and found herself reconsidering her earlier impression of the man.
When she sought him out after the ceremony and congratulated him on his speech, she was shocked when the simple act of shaking his hand sent a rush of moisture to her panties. She allowed herself to really look into his unusual deep blue eyes; as he held her gaze and let her look, she found an unexpected compassion there. The smallest of knowing smiles as their hands remained clasped signified a truce from their earlier conflict, a tacit agreement to start their acquaintance over now that the formalities had ended.
He’d offered his arm to escort her to the reception. Over drinks, Laura inquired as to his post-decommissioning plans, and learned that he would be retiring along with his ship. “Full circle,” he’d lamented. “I started my military career on the Old Girl, makes sense that it would end with her too.” She apologized for hastening his retirement by selecting his ship for museumification, but he’d waved it off with only a modicum of melancholy. “No, she’ll make a good museum. She’s seen a lot of action in her day.” Then he’d looked at her and asked, “What about you?”
Laura wasn’t sure what had made her interpret that question in the most base way possible, but for some reason she’d flirted. “I’ve seen a fair amount of action in my day as well, Commander.” As he picked his jaw up off the floor, she’d backpedaled. “I mean...my duties as Secretary of Education keep me very busy.” She tried a dose of honesty to regain some distance from her innuendo. “Though I don’t know for how much longer. I didn’t leave the Hall of Ministry on the best of terms this morning. Conflict with my boss over how to deal with the teachers’ strike.” Oh, and I have six months to live. Right. She forced herself to push the thought aside.
Her regard for the Commander grew when he leaned toward her conspiratorially and whispered, “I’ve always thought Adar was a moron.”
She giggled. “A fair assessment.”
A thought occurred to her, and Laura reluctantly asked him, reaching out to gently touch his wrist so he’d know she hadn’t taken offense at his confession,“I don’t mean to monopolize your time, Commander-- do you need to...?” She gestured around the crowded room populated with officers and civilian contractors enjoying the open bar.
He smiled at her, a big toothy grin she wouldn’t have thought could possibly come from the stern man she’d met a few hours earlier. “Nah,” he rumbled. “This party’s more for the civvies. We’ll have our own send-off in a few days.”
“Oh, I see,” Laura said. “Perhaps...”
“Did that tour guide in the bad suit take you around to the Observation Deck?” he interrupted her. “It’s worth seeing.”
She nodded a little too quickly. “Yes, that will be part of the school tour, so it was included in my visit today. It was very impressive.” Gods, Laura, the man was probably about to offer to take you there himself, she realized too late. She decided to make up for it with a bolder approach. “I would love to see more of the ship, though. Areas that weren’t included in my tour.”
He'd regarded her thoughtfully. "I can do that." He took her empty glass and handed it to a private, leaning in to whisper something to the young man, who had scurried away from the party immediately. Turning back to Laura, he'd again offered his arm. "Shall we?"
She had smiled at him, grateful that he had apparently taken it upon himself to keep her company; otherwise, she'd be wont to enjoy a few too many cocktails before morosely heading back to her guest quarters.
He walked her to the galley, a ward room, and even the gym. "Smells like the inside of a shoe," he'd joked, "but other than running around the ship itself, this is about all we get in terms of physical activity. And I don't run, so...." He shrugged.
"Not a runner, huh? So what do you do? No, wait, let me guess."
"Okay, but only one guess."
She looked around the gym and took in the free weights, several stationary bicycles, two treadmills, a leg press, and a bench press before her gaze landed on a crusty-looking boxing ring surrounded by a couple hanging bags. Turning to him and trying to discern the definition of his upper body through his gray wool tunic, she'd said decisively, "You're a boxer."
"Right in one, Madam Secretary." Those deep blue eyes glinted at her playfully.
"I'm a fight fan, though I don't box, myself."
He reached out and lightly pinched her bicep. "Maybe you should give it a try."
Shaking her head, she'd responded with a short, "No," before softening and asking, "So what else is there to see on your ship?"
He held the hatch open for her to return to the corridor, both of them drawing deep breaths of less-offensive air as they began walking. "Well, I could show you the water recycling system or the FTL drives. Or," he swallowed, "the CO's quarters."
It took a moment before realization dawned on her. "Oh! Your personal living area, you mean?"
He looked at her directly. “Right.”
Why the frak not, Laura? You’re newly single, dying, and physically attracted to this surprisingly nice man. Go with him. See what happens, she’d thought.
Suddenly shy, she hummed affirmatively. “I’d like that. I can’t really imagine what living on a ship for years at a time must be like.”
“There are definite advantages to being the CO, and the living space is one of them,” he conceded. “You saw the pilots’ quarters? The duty locker?”
She smiled. “Reminded me of summer camp.”
He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
They walked for a few more minutes, Laura totally lost in the maze of corridors but for the Commander’s sure guidance, before arriving in front of a hatch labeled “Commander’s Quarters.”
“After you,” he said, holding the hatch open.
She stepped through, her mouth gaping slightly at the tidy but very comfortable-looking quarters before her. Whatever her first or even second impression of the Commander may have been, she hadn’t been prepared for the myriad books, the soft lighting (so comforting after the harsh florescent lights ubiquitous throughout the ship), the tasteful art and knick-knacks. It was, she mused, such a contrast, not only to the rest of the ship itself, but to, for instance, Richard’s office in the Hall of Ministry, which despite doubling as a love nest, entirely lacked the warmth of these quarters. While the room contained substantial evidence of the Commander’s heavy workload--a desk laden with papers, overflowing filing cabinets, and the like--this was definitely a home. Commander Adama’s home, she realized. And he was sharing it with her.
She set her purse down on the floor. “This is lovely, Commander.” She turned to face him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“No need for my title in here, please, call me Bill.” He’d busied himself with a bottle of ambrosia chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table, pouring two glasses. Rising from the broad leather sectional couch, he handed her a glass. “Ambrosia?”
“Thank you. Bill.” She tested the sound of the name. “And I’d like it if you called me Laura.” She looked back at the ice bucket and thought back to the circumstances preceding their departure from the party. “Did you...” She shook her head, amused. “Never mind.” Sipping her drink daintily, she wandered toward the bookshelves in the anteroom. “You have quite a collection, Bill.”
He stepped up to join her. “Even old Viper jocks can read, you know,” he said, teasing. “I like lots of genres, but nothing beats a good mystery.”
“Oh!” she gasped, then blushed. “I just finished the one book I brought with me on this trip. A Murder on Picon.”
“The Secretary of Education reads hard-boiled fiction?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She just grinned in an unspoken admission of guilt.
He scanned the shelves and located a slim volume, retrieving it with surprising grace. “So you must love Edward Prima, right?” He handed her the book.
“Dark Day? Oh, I am so embarrassed to admit this, but this is a classic, and yet I’ve never read it.” She opened to the flyleaf and smiled at the “Wm. Adama” written in a precise hand in the upper corner. Turning the page over, her mouth dropped. “A first edition?”
He smirked at her surprise. “It’s a pretty good mystery. I think you’ll like it.” He closed the book and placed his hands over hers around it, and she closed her eyes at the involuntary surge of energy that coursed through her in response to his touch. “To read on your transport back home.”
“I...I couldn’t,” she stuttered. “I’ll get it back to you...”
“It’s a gift,” he said firmly. “Never lend books.”
Realizing it would be futile to argue the point with the Commander in light of her inability to sway him and ultimate concession earlier in the day, Laura gulped slowly. “Thank you, then, Bill.” She clasped the book to her chest and rose up on her toes to give him a feather-light kiss on the cheek.
As she withdrew, she realized he’d moved his hand to her hip to steady her, and was making no effort to repatriate it. In fact, he was caressing it with a gentle pressure.
“I’m sorry we got off to a rough start earlier,” he said huskily.
She shook her head. “Don’t be.” She sighed. “I...was having a bad day, could have been a lot more diplomatic about the computer thing.”
He tugged her closer to him, so they stood face to face, his hands resting lightly on both hips, hers just barely touching his. "I hope your day has gotten better, Laura."
"It definitely has," she agreed breathily.
He moved his right hand up from her hip to caress her jawline, stroking her hair back from her face and cupping the back of her head as he lowered his lips to hers.
His kisses were savoring and unhurried; she hadn’t been kissed like this in years. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer to her as she moaned against his mouth. The parting of her lips allowed him entry, and as tongues tangled, things quickly became too intense for her to continue holding both a glass of ambrosia and a Prima first edition. “Bill...” she muttered as he continued kissing her, “Bill...”
“Hmmm?” He sucked her bottom lip and ran his hand over her ass.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shelf at arms length and shifted against him slightly to withdraw the arm holding the book from between them. “I just want to...ooh”--his hand made its way from her ass to slide up her stomach, under her suit jacket, seeking more sensitive flesh-- “put these things down.”
His eyes shifted to her hand, and he took her glass for her, setting it on the shelf next to the book and his own glass. Turning back to her, he scrutinized her face briefly before reaching for the hook and eye fasteners of her jacket. “You sure about this?"
She nodded. “Yes sir.” He laughed at her invocation of their earlier encounter, now turned on its head. He slid her jacket off her shoulders and arms, draping it neatly over a chair.
Curious, she played at the front of his uniform, sliding her fingers over the seam experimentally. “Have you got anything on under this?”
He gave her a playful grin and pulled the top out from his waistband. “Go ahead and find out.”
Delicate fingers found the single fastener at the upper right of his chest and tugged to loosen it. The tunic fell open easily and she could see that he wore the same set of double tanks she’d seen on so many crew members earlier in the day.
"So easy to take off," she murmured, rubbing her hands over his firm chest, "just a single button..."
He shrugged the jacket off his arms and it dropped to the floor. In one smooth motion, he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the back of his quarters. Her shoes didn't make the journey with her, falling of her feet when he picked her up and tumbling next to his abandoned jacket.
"Bed?" she asked, toying with the short hair at the nape of his neck.
"Rack," he corrected her. "We call it a rack."
She giggled. "Anything you say, sir."
He lowered her gently to the rack, spartan and narrow but neatly made. Leaning over her, he touched her cheek, the wrinkles at the sides of her eyes. "You are beautiful when you laugh like that."
She closed her eyes, uncomfortable with the intensity of his evaluation, and reached for the hem of her blouse. Leaning up slightly, she pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in just her bra, skirt, and stockings.
Laura reached forward to unfasten his belt, struggling with the clasp at first but eventually figuring it out. The fly of his uniform pants went next. She tried to slide the pants down, but they didn’t go very far due to his position kneeling over her.
Sighing, she went to work unzipping her own skirt, giving him a pointed look. He took the hint and stood up, shucking his pants to the floor and stripping off his tanks before rejoining her in the rack. He helped her slide her skirt down her legs. “Better,” he said, admiring the stockings and garter belt she wore.
“You know, Madam Secretary,” he nibbled on her ear, “I’ve never made love in my quarters before.” His breath was hot and heavy as he spoke. “Always wanted to...never had the opportunity.” He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. “And now...just as I’m being forced into retirement, in part due to a decision you made..." He tugged the straps down her shoulders and pulled the garment off, tossing it to the floor. "...Here you are.” A caress to the bare skin of her upper thighs, and he unsnapped the garters. “In my rack.” He rained a trail of lazy kisses from her breasts to her navel. “Like some kind of dream come true.”
"I'm no one's dream girl," she grumbled.
He shook his head in wonder as he rolled the stockings down her legs. "Do you really not know how sexy you are?" He ran his hand from the bottom of her foot all the way back up her long smooth leg, until it was just ghosting at the gusset of her panties. His fingers fluttered over her pussy, and she began to push back against his touch in search of more contact before she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and arched her back to pull them down and off her body, exposing herself fully to him.
Laura reached for him, trying to pull him on top of her to feel the crush of his comforting bulk. Feel, she wanted to feel him, all of him, so that she wouldn’t have to feel all the other things weighing so heavily on her mind. But he wasn’t complying; her wanton display had proved irresistible, though it hadn’t been her intention, and she happily resigned herself to the change of plan when he stroked his tongue through her wetness and placed an uninhibited open-mouthed kiss to her clit.
“Oooh.” She couldn’t help but moan. Emboldened, he suckled the sensitive nub as she writhed beneath him, thrusting her hips closer to his face, seeking more sensation. A thick digit slid inside her, moving in rhythm as his tongue to her clit. When her pants grew quicker, he kept a finger inside her and replaced his mouth with his thumb on her clit, moving up her body so that they were once again face to face.
“Laura,” he breathed, close enough that she could smell the muskiness of her own scent coming off him. “I want you on top.”
She whimpered, half in surprise at his request, and half in despair when he withdrew his hand from her pussy. She gave no resistance, however, when he used his now-free hands to grasp her waist and roll them both so she was astride him.
He still wore his threadbare boxers, and she gave a few short thrusts along his length with the fabric barrier still in place, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric against her clit but needing to feel him inside her again. She scooted back down his thighs so she could pull the boxers down and off his hips, his erection springing free as she did so. She took a moment to admire the impressive appendage, the smooth round head and the dark skin of his shaft. She gave it a few exploratory licks and sucks, engulfing it completely just once before sitting up with a wicked grin. Finally pulling the boxers off his legs completely, she returned to straddling him and teased her slick heat just a few more times against his now-bare length before taking him in hand to guide him and sinking down on him fully.
They both groaned at the perfect fit they made. Once he was fully seated, she rocked back and forth, her mind blissfully empty but for the amazing sensations his cock was creating within her.
His fingers played at the curve of her waist as she shamelessly sought pleasure from him. Neither one spoke; breaths, moans, and touches communicated effectively enough for these strangers. She leaned down over him, encouraging him to lave her breasts and tug at her nipples with his teeth as she rode him increasingly harder and faster.
“Let go, Laura,” he finally whispered against her ear. “Get yourself off. I want you to come.”
She’d already been close, but that last command pushed her over the edge. Her inner muscles spasmed and clenched, and she thrust a few more times to ride out the waves of her orgasm before collapsing atop his chest, their bodies remaining joined, his cock still hard and pulsing.
“Oh gods, Bill.” She kissed him languidly. “That was amazing. Now how do you want to frak me?”
He chuckled and didn’t reply, instead holding her to him as he flipped her over onto her back. He made sure she was comfortable before bracing his hands against the bulkhead and re-entering her in a smooth long stroke.
She was wet and slick, and he thrust easily. Her mind and body were both spent from her earlier orgasm, and she pulled her knees up to allow him to penetrate deeper. The new angle hit her just right, and suddenly she was a participant again, working her hips in counter-rhythm to his sure strokes. His eyes were trained on her between kisses; his gratitude, admiration, grew to be too much, and she turned her head to the side and let her eyes drift shut as he continued to pound heavily into her. They flew open again when he reached down between them and flicked her clit.
Laura gasped. His eyes caught hers, insistent, daring her to look away.
Come for me. I know you can.
She nodded and pulled her knees up even closer to her body as he continued to work her exposed clit in light circles. He was waiting for her.
The thought of being given that power, that he would hold off on her account, touched her deeply. When she felt the impending orgasm, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as she came, letting his mouth swallow her moans of pleasure. His shuddering moans followed, his mouth still pressed to hers and his hands grasping her hips while he came deep inside her.
He’d immediately pulled out and gently cleaned her up first, then himself. Laura was too exhausted to move, or perhaps just too satiated. She barely registered that he’d turned out most of the lights before rejoining her in the rack.
Bill kissed her temple. “Rest,” he whispered.
Laura woke in the middle of the night, feeling claustrophobic in the narrow rack with Bill’s arm slung over her waist. He had thoughtfully suggested that she take the side of the rack furthest from the bulkhead, but she wasn’t used to actually sleeping with a lover, and she had a sudden urge to abscond to her bland guest quarters until it was time for her transport to leave.
She forced herself to breathe and try to enjoy the pleasant aspects of physical proximity. The warmth of his skin; the corded strength of the muscles beneath; the way that, even in repose, he seemed determined to touch her bare skin, gently, reverently. The slightly spicy masculine scent, soap and shampoo mixed with the sweat of their earlier exertions. She took it all in, reminding herself that it was unlikely she’d experience this kind of closeness with another person ever again.
Choking back a sob, she turned her back to him and manipulated her fingers against the flesh of her left breast, kneading and rolling to locate her adversary.
Half-asleep, Bill turned to spoon her and ran his hand up from her stomach to her chest, stilling her roving hand over her breast. “Laura? ‘S okay?” he slurred.
She bit her bottom lip, willing the tears from falling, even though he wouldn’t see them in the dark. “Yeah.”
He pushed her hair aside to nuzzle her ear and whisper softly. “Go back to sleep.”
She wanted him again, wanted to forget about what she would be going back to in the morning. Rotating her hips against his, she whispered back. “What if I’m not ready to?”
His cock instantly hardened against her movements, and his hands fondled her bare breasts as he nipped her earlobe. “Okay by me.”
She wasn’t ready to have sex with him face to face again; their first time had been a bit too intense for her, those blue eyes seemingly able to pierce through her emotional armor. If she could hardly bear to face her life’s choices and bleak prospects, why should he? No, it would either have to be like this, spooning, or...
“Oooph!” Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t been prepared for Bill to slide an arm under her stomach and in one swift motion deposit her underneath him in the center of the rack on her stomach. He was on top of her, alternately kissing and nipping her shoulders and upper back, pushing her hair aside to nuzzle her neck as his hand crept down to toy with her clit and his erection ground insistently against her ass.
When she pushed up off the mattress and bucked against him needily, he grasped her right thigh and brought it atop his. The position spread her wide for him as he breached her and slid his right hand over her hip to reach her clit. As she adjusted to keep her balance in the off-kilter position, he began pumping his hips against her slowly but determinedly.
Slightly taken aback by this rapid turn of events, she turned her head over her shoulder to face him, his craggy face illuminated slightly by the light streaming through the translucent glass door to the head he’d left on for her in case she needed it. “Bill,” she said, arching her back further to allow him deeper penetration. “This is really some move you’ve got.”
He snickered and placed another love bite to the back of her neck, holding her against him tightly as he thrust. “I call it the Adama Maneuver,” he growled, picking up the pace and showing her the benefits of the novel position.
When she awoke in the morning, her mouth felt mothballed, her hair was impossibly mussed, and her lower back and thigh muscles ached as they hadn’t since she’d run her last half-marathon a few years earlier. Carefully extracting herself from Bill’s grasp, she set about collecting her clothes. She took them into the head and dressed, trying and failing to make herself look presentable; while some clothes, like her jacket, had been hung up, others, like her blouse and skirt, had been flung to the floor in a fit of passion, and were now worse for the wear. As she snapped her garters in place, she supposed she should be thankful that Bill had taken care not to put runs in her stockings.
She dragged her fingers through her hair and deemed it hopeless. It was snarled and tangled and voluminous; it looked to her like a sign announcing, “Just Been Frakked.” Her eyes came to rest on his toothbrush, standing in a cup by the sink, and, contemplating the disgusting taste in her mouth of swapped spit and ancient ambrosia residue, she shrugged and borrowed the implement, giving it a careful rinse before and after brushing.
Padding across his quarters from the head back to the anteroom, she hastily located her pumps and sat at his desk to put them on. She nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard a husky voice rumble behind her. “Going somewhere?”
She turned, somewhat guiltily. Bill was wearing a fuzzy brown robe and, it appeared, nothing else. “Let me just throw some clothes on.”
Meekly, she nodded. “I need to pick up my things from my guest quarters and meet my transport at the hangar deck.”
Bill smiled sadly. “I’ll take you.” He turned, she presumed to go dress. Noticing the copy of Dark Day on the shelf next to his desk, she walked over and picked it up. He’d seemed genuine in his offer of giving it to her; it might not be such a bad little memento of her trip. She slipped it into her purse and sat on his couch, waiting.
He returned shortly, wearing a fresh uniform and the previous day’s stubble. She blushed to think of that stubble against her shoulder and neck as he...
That’s over, Laura, she chided herself. Time to let it go. Save that memory for a few months from now, when you really need it. She rose, overly brightly. “Shall we?”
The walk to the guest quarters was quiet. There were a few crewmembers about, but for the most part Laura felt gratefully inconspicuous. They arrived and Bill waited outside as Laura quickly grabbed her rolling suitcase, which had never even gotten unpacked, as well as the few toiletries she’d used in freshening up before the decommissioning ceremony the night before.
She opened the hatch, and Bill stepped in before she could step out. He closed it behind him forcefully and spun so she was backed up against it, his hips pressing into hers, his hand cupping the side of her face as his lips descended on hers.
He took her breath away, so that when he pulled back and asked, “Can I see you again?” she could only look at him dumbly before sputtering out the vaguest of answers.
“I, um...don’t know?” Her eyes implored him not to ask for clarification.
“Maybe?” he asked instead, seemingly amenable to keeping things vague between them.
She nodded. “Maybe.” Smiling, she kissed him this time. “Thank you for the private tour, Commander. It was most”--she grabbed his ass and gave one last squeeze to the firm muscles--”instructional.”
Bill gave her a knowing look. “It was my pleasure, Madam Secretary.”
“Mine too.” With a final peck to his lips, she gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Goodbye, Bill.”
He opened the hatch and pointed down a corridor. “Straight until it ends, then turn right. It’ll take you right to the hangar deck.” He reached out to toy with a lock of her hair before his hand drifted down to squeeze her shoulder. “Take care, Laura.”
As she’d turned and walked away from him, she figured she’d never see him again, but at least she had a pleasant memory to get her through what she expected to be the final months of her life. Still, the experience had rejuvenated her in some ways, reminded her of the benefits a lover other than the President of the Colonies could bestow given the privacy, time, and inclination.
Laura had come back to Caprica after the decommissioning and made good on her promise to Richard to fight for her job, which in turn gave her the focus and will to fight for her life as well by seeking aggressive, experimental cancer treatment. She had faced the fact that she’d be going through the exhausting process by herself, staying at the hospital as needed and using her access to the government car service when she was too weak or ill to drive herself. But three weeks into her treatment, an unexpected visitor--her first--arrived at her room while she was resting.
He'd entered with a bouquet of flowers, wearing civilian dress and a sheepish, if hopeful, smile. "I missed you," he explained simply. "Wanted to see you again, did some asking around...and here I am," he gestured around the sunny private room. "Hope that's okay."
Pique warred with exhaustion, and exhaustion won; she was too tired to fight or even kick him out, not when he was looking at her like that with those deep blue eyes-- tenderly, warmly. Maybe there is someone here for me after all, she'd thought, shocking herself. It must have been extremely difficult for him to find her, as very few people knew about her illness and even fewer knew where she was being treated. She was at a loss to make sense of him being here until she looked back at his hopeful expression and sighed. "Commander," she'd said in greeting from her bed, giving a wave with her unintubated hand. "Have a seat."
He first set the bouquet on her bedside table. She was both embarrassed and relieved that there were no other arrangements in the room; she knew she must look pathetic, but at least he wouldn’t think she had other men in her life.
Bill had placed a kiss to the papery skin of her cheek before proceeding to remind her that it was no longer Commander, just Bill, and that his retirement had gone through and he was now living in Caprica City. "Just a lonely old man with a rat-trap apartment and books for company," he'd said self-deprecatingly. "Who can't get the memory of this amazing woman out of his head."
She'd hummed. "Oh, really?" She offered up her hand to him, feeling the familiar surge of electricity when he clasped it gently. “Too bad. No amazing woman here. Only a sick one.” She smiled wistfully. “Who keeps thinking about the most wonderful experience she had recently aboard a very old battlestar.”
“Me too, Laura.” His eyes drifted from her flannel pajama-clad body, to the bedside table, to the small upholstered chair by the window. Sitting on the chair was his copy of Dark Day. He smiled and crossed the room to pick it up. “You reading this now?”
She nodded and spoke slowly. “I started to on the trip back from the Galactica, but I was so distracted thinking about how to deal with Adar and the strike, and then setting up treatment, that I held off. But I’m glad, it gives me something to look forward to during treatment. I try to read whenever I’m not nauseous.”
He sat in the chair next to her bed. “Do you mind if I read to you? Starting at the beginning?”
She smiled, though it was a struggle. “There’s nothing I’d like better,” she whispered as her eyes drifted shut.
To her amazement, he kept coming back. He kept her company over months of stem-cell treatments and checkups, picking out books from his collection to read to her. He supported her as she continued to work by bringing flowers and lunches to her office at the Ministry of Education and making sure she didn’t stay too late. He made her feel desirable and womanly whether making love to her on her good days or just holding her on the bad. He waited anxiously with her in her doctor’s office as they received the news that she'd overcome the odds and her cancer was in remission. And he celebrated that news with her by asking if she wanted to move in together. She thanked the Gods every day that Bill had insistently barged his way into her life and made living so very worthwhile by showering her with care and affection she surely didn’t deserve.
* ~ * ~ *
The object of her thoughts frowned at the sight of her holding the box, lifting it easily from her straining hands.
"You don't have to move this stuff, Laura. I'll do it.” Bill’s concern was both evident and endearing. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been moving things from room to room all morning.”
"I wouldn’t have to if the movers had actually put the boxes in rooms according to the labels,” she complained, indicating the bold writing on the side of the box. "I was taking that into the library. It's all books." She ran her hand appreciatively along his strong upper arm. "Come on. I’ll take my break in there."
He followed her through the cardboard- and bubble wrap-strewn hallway to the room they'd decided would be the library: her office, Bill's reading room. It was large and sunny, and already contained Laura’s desk, several comfortable chairs, and a squishy leather-upholstered loveseat and matching ottoman they’d picked out. Bill’s handwoven Gemenese rug cast an inviting red glow and tied everything together. Laura was very much looking forward to spending time with Bill in this room.
Bill set the box down near the built-in shelves as Laura gracefully lowered herself into a corner of the loveseat. Bill joined her and looked around the room appraisingly. “It’s coming along,” he observed.
She smiled. “I know. Once we get the books unpacked, we can start decorating. I think this room needs to have some art. And artifacts,” she added, thinking of the antique maps of the Colonies and star charts she’d inherited from her father.
“I thought the Monclair that was over my couch in my quarters on Galactica would look good in the living room,” he offered. “I don’t think it works as well in here. And it’s a little too intense for the dining room.” His gaze came to rest on the generous windowsill. It was large enough to be a window seat, but he and Laura had decided against using it as such, both realizing they preferred more comfortable seating options. “Maybe some sculpture. We could put something there,” he said, pointing at the window.
Laura nodded. “Hmm, I like that idea.” She leaned into his side and gave him a kiss. “You have such good taste, love.”
His eyes darkened. “So do you,” he growled, slipping his tongue past her lips to drink of her deeply.
She returned the kiss, but eventually giggled and leaned her forehead against his. “Maybe we should get to work on setting up the bedroom,” she suggested.
* ~ * ~ *
A week after moving in, much progress had been made. Laura had taken that time off from work, and they had not only unpacked all the boxes and arranged all the furniture, but made love in every room of the house as well.
They lay twined in each other’s limbs and cool sheets as the afternoon sunlight filtered in through gauzy sage-colored curtains. “This feels so decadent,” sighed Laura. “Don’t wanna go back to work.”
Bill grinned. "Hey, I don't want you to, either. Having you all to myself has been wonderful." He patted her hand encouragingly. "But the children of the Colonies need you, Madam Secretary.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist, sending shivers down her spine.
“What do you think about having the kids over here for dinner this weekend?” he asked tentatively.
“Mmmm. Yes,” she murmured agreeably, tracing her fingers along his chest.
"The kids" meant Bill's son Zak and his daughter-in-law, Kara. Kara was a flight instructor at the academy in Delphi; had been Zak's instructor, actually, until she'd flunked him out of Basic Flight, telling him that she loved him, but he just didn't have the feel for piloting a Viper. Now Zak happily ran a coffee shop-cum-art gallery near the flight academy, serving up lattes to stressed nuggets and advice to fellow flunkees.
Laura had never actually met Bill's other son, Lee, though certainly his Viper acrobatics at the ceremony had been impressive. She wasn't entirely sure as to the reasons for his estrangement from Bill, but she did know it hurt Bill that Lee wouldn't agree to see him when he was on shore leave from his assignment on the Battlestar Pegasus and she knew now, although she hadn’t at the time, that Lee had practically refused to talk to him during the decommissioning. From what Zak told them, Lee wasn't very keen to get together with him and Kara, either.
Laura looked up at Bill, who had the countenance of an extremely content man. "Dinner with Zak and Kara sounds lovely, Bill," she told him. "I know they've been wanting to see the house."
"Not sure if I'm ready to share this place with anyone but you yet, though." He gathered her into his embrace. "We'll have to start wearing clothes on a regular basis again."
She laughed, amused. "We were gonna have to do that eventually anyway, Bill. Why don’t you see if they can make it next weekend." She then burst into another fit, this one involuntary. "Stop tickling me!"
"But you're so accessible. I can't help myself, and before I know it, you'll be back in your impenetrable power suits again."
"Admit it, you like my suits."
"Only the skirt ones, and only when you're going up a ladder."
She gasped. "Why Commander! I never would have pegged you for the type."
He wagged his eyebrows at her. "No?"
Sitting up, she playfully shook her finger at him. "I hope I'm the only visiting dignitary you ever subjected to such crass treatment on your ship, Bill," she lectured.
Their eyes caught as they both remembered the “treatment” Laura had received from Bill on his ship after the decommissioning ceremony; as far as they both knew, she had been the only visiting dignitary ever to experience the “Adama Maneuver” aboard the battlestar.
“You wanna...?” asked Bill with a raised eyebrow. Grinning, Laura stretched her back in preparation.
* ~ * ~ *
The chime of the doorbell interrupted Laura’s flower-arranging. “Honey, can you get the door?” she called to Bill.
Hearing no response, she wiped her hands on the apron she wore over a red wrap dress and strode purposefully toward the entryway, opening the door with a wide smile. “Zak! Kara! Come on in!”
The beaming couple, already wrapped up in each other, tumbled into the house and broke apart enough to sandwich Laura in a hug. Their greetings surrounded her in stereo.
“Hey, Laura.” Zak kissed her cheek.
“Old Lady! Nice to see ya!” Kara clapped her back.
Laura took a step back, finding their exuberance slightly overwhelming. “You two look great. Married life really agrees with you, huh?” The couple had eloped while attending the Aquarian summerfest several months prior. She knew Bill was sad that he hadn’t been there, but as they explained it, it was a spur of the moment decision; “We were partying, out of our minds, and she woke up one morning and dragged me and a priest down to the river, then we spent the rest of the day getting tattoos,” according to Zak. Moreover, Laura had been in the midst of her treatment at the time, so she was selfishly relieved that Bill hadn’t been put in a position to choose between keeping her company at the hospital and a last-minute trip to Aquaria.
Kara flushed. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s all right.” She winked at Zak.
“You’re looking well, too, Laura.” Zak’s eyes raked over her critically; she wanted to laugh at his obvious concern for her health, but then she reminded herself of how sick she’d been when they first met, and that he wasn’t used to seeing her with full color, an unemaciated frame, and regrown auburn hair. “So the move went all right?
Laura gestured around. “Come see for yourself. And maybe we’ll find your father while we’re at it.” She turned and they followed her into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
They both looked at each other, then away, and Kara actually blushed. “A glass of water would be great--I’ll get it.” She waved Laura’s efforts off and located the cabinet containing water glasses on her third attempt.
“I’d love a beer, Laura, if you guys have got it,” Zak said.
Just then, Bill entered the kitchen from the door to the backyard. “Hey hey!” He forgot to wipe his feet in his enthusiasm at seeing his son and daughter in law, causing Laura to shake her head. He gave Zak a big hug, and crossed over to Kara, giving her the same treatment. “Have you seen the house?”
Laura cut off Zak’s imminent reply. “We were about to take a tour. Where have you been?”
He grinned. “Planning out our garden, of course. Thought I might talk it over with Zak here, see if he’d be willing to help out with the digging and fencing and all that.”
Laura’s mild frustration faded instantly. “Thought you didn’t have much of a green thumb?” She wrapped her arms around his midsection and gave him a kiss.
The younger couple were both assiduously trying to avoid watching the affectionate display. Laura saw Kara reach for Zak’s hand and felt a wave of happiness crest inside her at her good fortune of ending up with this man, who had raised such a sweet son and gained a daughter-in-law so much like him that she could have been his own child. She smiled at that thought; she knew Bill would have doted on a daughter if he’d had one.
Laura withdrew her arms from around Bill and pulled open the fridge, locating a Virgon Brew for Zak and handing it to him. “You want one too, honey?” she asked Bill.
He wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
Thus fortified with beverages, the foursome made their way through the center-hall colonial, Bill and Laura proudly pointing out small improvements they’d made and fixtures they’d added. Kara oohed and aahed over the precise wainscoting and crown moldings, while Zak seemed impressed with the dimensions and layout of the house.
The library was the highlight of the first floor, the built-in shelves crowded with their combined book collection and overflowing into stacks on the floor behind the desk. Framed diplomas, commissions, and commendations adorned the walls, as well as an official photo of Bill and Laura at the decommissioning ceremony--taken right before they’d left the reception together, to their great amusement now.
“No surprise that the Secretary of Education has lots of books, I guess.” Kara looked around at the vast array.
Zak grinned and inclined his head toward his father. “This is what his quarters on Galactica looked like, too.”
“Not Secretary for too much longer, you know.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Just about five months until Adar’s term ends and I’m out of a job.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do next, Laura?” Zak asked.
She shook her head vaguely. “We’ll see, there are lots of opportunities to consider. But I’ll be glad to take a break from politics.”
“Laura’s been inundated with offers,” Bill bragged.
Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to finish up some of my main objectives for now, then focus on the transition.”
Kara, who hadn’t been very engaged in the conversation regarding Laura’s future employment prospects, crossed the room and plopped down in the window seat. “Seems a little bare over here. I’m surprised you haven’t put more books along this windowsill.”
“Hmm, we had the thought that maybe some art would look nice right there in front of the window.” Laura frowned and looked at Bill. “We really need to figure out something. Maybe go to some galleries in the city and see if we find a piece we like.”
Kara stood slowly and stepped back to look at the area from a distance. “I think you’re right, a large piece might work well for this space.” She glanced at her husband. “You know anyone who works in sculpture, Zak? Who’s been featured at the coffee shop?”
“Oh, besides you, you mean?” His playful grin evoked a sheepish smile from Kara as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Really? A Viper pilot and a sculptress?” Bill let out a long whistle, impressed. “You’re a woman of many talents, Kara Thrace.”
She shook her head, blushing. “Art’s just a hobby, I just play around at painting and some other media as well. Found objects, scrap metal, that kind of thing.”
“We knew you did some of the paintings at the coffee shop,” Laura mused, “good for you, Kara.” She gestured toward the door. “Shall we continue on?”
“I think we might start looking for a house of our own soon.” Zak looked over his shoulder to his father for approval as they trod up the steps, the younger couple leading the way. “Living over the coffee shop has been convenient, but we’re thinking some more space would be good.”
She and Bill exchanged pleased smiles with one another, remembering the way they’d outgrown their old places once they’d begun spending most nights together at one apartment or the other, usually hers. “More space is good,” agreed Laura. “Do you want to stay in Delphi? There are some great properties in the suburbs between Delphi and Caprica City that are good values, lots of space.”
Kara shook her head. “We’re not sure. Haven’t thought about it too much. The idea is...new.” She looked slightly disconcerted.
The kids laughed at Bill for devoting one of the four bedrooms upstairs entirely to Bill’s model ship building hobby before moving on to the two guest rooms and the master suite. Laura felt some trepidation at having Bill’s son in their shared bedroom, but luckily for her, Bill was fastidiously clean, so there was little to be concerned about. The interior tour thus complete, they took the stairs down from the balcony off the master bedroom to inspect the yard and putative garden.
“We were thinking a pergola covered in ivy here at the end of the patio.” Laura walked to the indicated area and spread her arms demonstratively. “It’ll provide some shade in the summer once it grows in.”
Kara’s head was tilted back, looking up at the very tall trees surrounding the backyard. “Nice old growth. I like this, Zak.”
Laura could have sworn Zak said something about a tree swing as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist, but forgot about it as Bill began pacing out the parameters of the “garden.” “Honey, don’t you think that’s a little...large?”
“It’s a tactical decision,” he explained. “Those Caprican squash can take over a garden if you’re not careful. This way”-- he gestured toward the short end of the rectangular plot closest to the property line--”keep it contained in one section, maybe its own raised bed.”
Laura walked to him and surveyed the space. “Okay, Mr. Green Thumb.” She looked at Kara and Zak. “Either of you any good at gardening?
Kara snickered. “Not too much plant life on a battlestar. If we ever have a garden, I’ll leave it to this one.”
“I guess we’ve got that in common, then,” Laura said, smiling at the younger woman.
“Zak and I will learn together.” Bill slung an arm over the shoulders of his son. “Right after he helps me dig up the ground and set up the beds.”
The helper in question groaned good-naturedly, and Laura took that as her cue to move things back inside. “I think dinner is just about ready to come out of the oven. Why don’t we all go in?”
As Laura plated the simple meal of roasted chicken and vegetables, Bill uncorked a bottle of wine.
“Dinner smells amazing,” Kara commented.
Laura smiled in thanks. “I think we’re ready. Zak, do you mind helping me with these plates?”
Directing Kara to carry a basket of rolls, Laura led the procession to the dining room, setting a plate at each perfectly-set place. Bill set the wine down on the table and pulled out a seat for her as Kara and Zak seated themselves next to one another.
Laura took in the scene, unable to school her happy expression. “This is the first time we’ve actually eaten in the dining room. I’m so glad you are both here to join us.” She patted Bill’s arm. “Honey, want to pour some wine?”
Kara and Zak exchanged glances, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Zak drew a deep breath as Bill and Laura watched him expectantly.
“Dad, Laura...I’m going to be a father! Kara is having a baby.” Zak’s pleased smile lit up the whole room, the wattage increased by Bill’s matching one as soon as the words sank in.
Laura was thrilled for the couple, and for Bill. But she was more than a little concerned about Kara. She looked like the wanted to be happy, but wasn’t, or at least had conflicting feelings. “How far along are you?” Laura asked carefully.
Kara cleared her throat. “Almost four months.” Her tense features softened when Zak placed his hand atop hers and laced their fingers together.
“This is just great!” Bill got up from his seat to envelop both his son and daughter-in-law in a hug. “I’m so happy for you both!”
Laura smiled widely at the couple and poured wine for herself, Bill, and Zak, giving Kara a wink. “I think this calls for a toast, don’t you all?”
Bill reached for the glass Laura offered him, their fingers brushing as he accepted it. He raised the glass, and the others followed, Kara raising her water glass. “To our growing family!”
Later that night, long after dinner had been cleaned up, the kids had left, and they’d celebrated the return of their solitude by making love on the Gemenese rug in the library, Laura lay in bed with Bill, her head on his bare shoulder. “You ready to be a grandfather, honey?”
She could feel his smile against the top of her head. “You ready to be a grandmother?”
Laura propped herself up on her elbow so she could face him. “Me? I’ll just be grandpa’s girlfriend. Yes, I like that. ‘Girlfriend,’ it’s like the opposite of grandmother.”
A lazy grin crept across his face. “What if I don’t want you to be my girlfriend?”
She leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his chest. “Well, seeing as we just bought this house together, and are ridiculously happy, I’ll assume you’re not suggesting that we break up. You just want a different title? One more befitting our age? Companion? Domestic partner?”
He pushed himself into a sitting position, and she followed his lead. Bill took her hands in his and looked at her intently, the intensity of his gaze causing her to shiver.
“Marry me, Laura.”
She giggled, taken aback at his proposition, and then cringed inwardly at her involuntary reaction. “What?” She tucked her feet underneath her and rocked back on her heels, plucking nervously at the hem of her silk negligee. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m serious. I love you. You’re my partner, my family. I want to be yours. Will you marry me, Laura Roslin?”
Laura nodded slowly, disbelieving. “I....Okay.” He reached out to caress her cheek, and she smiled into his touch. “Yes.”
Next part: Breaking New Ground (rated MA)
Author: afrakaday
Rating: MA
Word Count: 9200
A/N: This is the smutty prequel to the Secret Valentine fic I wrote for yubsie's prompt for grandbaby fic, Inaugural Baby. Part of this story actually was originally "conceived" (sorry for the pun) as a response to whatever_lj's Holiday Wish prompt, "Bill, Laura, Kara, and art," but it kind of stalled out until I got the grandbaby prompt on top of it. Yes, there will have to be a third installment of this series (!) with Bill and Laura's wedding and the big art reveal. In the meantime: enjoy some smut! Many thanks as always to nixmom for her beta.
Laura paused in the doorway, balancing the heavy box between her hip and the jamb so she could wipe the sweat from her brow. Moving was a bitch, she mused. But worth it, she concluded as Bill came into view wearing only Fleet-issue tanks and cargo pants.
They had closed on the two-story brick home in a leafy suburb of Caprica City the previous week. Movers had delivered their furnishings and possessions from her condo, Bill's apartment, and the things he'd kept in storage from Galactica, and after a few days of unpacking, they were planning to spend the night for the first time in their new home.
She laughed inwardly at the thought of the year-long progression of their unlikely courtship culminating in cohabitation and even owning a home together. If it had been a mistake to sleep with the gruff Commander following the decommissioning ceremony on the Galactica, it was one she would never regret. She'd both been handed a death sentence and ended things with Adar that day, after all; little wonder, then, that she'd been more forward than she otherwise might have been when she recognized her attraction to Bill as such.
* ~ * ~ *
She’d thought him horrid at first, condescending, intransigent, and unwilling to listen to her suggestions. Of course, she had more or less taunted him; I heard you’re one of those people who’s actually afraid of computers. Still, it was an inauspicious beginning.
His speech had resonated with her, though; Why are we as a people worth saving? Sooner or later the day comes when you can’t hide from the things you’ve done anymore. His unexpected statements had taken her thoughts off herself and the diagnosis she’d just received to think about the bigger picture. She was grateful for the distraction and found herself reconsidering her earlier impression of the man.
When she sought him out after the ceremony and congratulated him on his speech, she was shocked when the simple act of shaking his hand sent a rush of moisture to her panties. She allowed herself to really look into his unusual deep blue eyes; as he held her gaze and let her look, she found an unexpected compassion there. The smallest of knowing smiles as their hands remained clasped signified a truce from their earlier conflict, a tacit agreement to start their acquaintance over now that the formalities had ended.
He’d offered his arm to escort her to the reception. Over drinks, Laura inquired as to his post-decommissioning plans, and learned that he would be retiring along with his ship. “Full circle,” he’d lamented. “I started my military career on the Old Girl, makes sense that it would end with her too.” She apologized for hastening his retirement by selecting his ship for museumification, but he’d waved it off with only a modicum of melancholy. “No, she’ll make a good museum. She’s seen a lot of action in her day.” Then he’d looked at her and asked, “What about you?”
Laura wasn’t sure what had made her interpret that question in the most base way possible, but for some reason she’d flirted. “I’ve seen a fair amount of action in my day as well, Commander.” As he picked his jaw up off the floor, she’d backpedaled. “I mean...my duties as Secretary of Education keep me very busy.” She tried a dose of honesty to regain some distance from her innuendo. “Though I don’t know for how much longer. I didn’t leave the Hall of Ministry on the best of terms this morning. Conflict with my boss over how to deal with the teachers’ strike.” Oh, and I have six months to live. Right. She forced herself to push the thought aside.
Her regard for the Commander grew when he leaned toward her conspiratorially and whispered, “I’ve always thought Adar was a moron.”
She giggled. “A fair assessment.”
A thought occurred to her, and Laura reluctantly asked him, reaching out to gently touch his wrist so he’d know she hadn’t taken offense at his confession,“I don’t mean to monopolize your time, Commander-- do you need to...?” She gestured around the crowded room populated with officers and civilian contractors enjoying the open bar.
He smiled at her, a big toothy grin she wouldn’t have thought could possibly come from the stern man she’d met a few hours earlier. “Nah,” he rumbled. “This party’s more for the civvies. We’ll have our own send-off in a few days.”
“Oh, I see,” Laura said. “Perhaps...”
“Did that tour guide in the bad suit take you around to the Observation Deck?” he interrupted her. “It’s worth seeing.”
She nodded a little too quickly. “Yes, that will be part of the school tour, so it was included in my visit today. It was very impressive.” Gods, Laura, the man was probably about to offer to take you there himself, she realized too late. She decided to make up for it with a bolder approach. “I would love to see more of the ship, though. Areas that weren’t included in my tour.”
He'd regarded her thoughtfully. "I can do that." He took her empty glass and handed it to a private, leaning in to whisper something to the young man, who had scurried away from the party immediately. Turning back to Laura, he'd again offered his arm. "Shall we?"
She had smiled at him, grateful that he had apparently taken it upon himself to keep her company; otherwise, she'd be wont to enjoy a few too many cocktails before morosely heading back to her guest quarters.
He walked her to the galley, a ward room, and even the gym. "Smells like the inside of a shoe," he'd joked, "but other than running around the ship itself, this is about all we get in terms of physical activity. And I don't run, so...." He shrugged.
"Not a runner, huh? So what do you do? No, wait, let me guess."
"Okay, but only one guess."
She looked around the gym and took in the free weights, several stationary bicycles, two treadmills, a leg press, and a bench press before her gaze landed on a crusty-looking boxing ring surrounded by a couple hanging bags. Turning to him and trying to discern the definition of his upper body through his gray wool tunic, she'd said decisively, "You're a boxer."
"Right in one, Madam Secretary." Those deep blue eyes glinted at her playfully.
"I'm a fight fan, though I don't box, myself."
He reached out and lightly pinched her bicep. "Maybe you should give it a try."
Shaking her head, she'd responded with a short, "No," before softening and asking, "So what else is there to see on your ship?"
He held the hatch open for her to return to the corridor, both of them drawing deep breaths of less-offensive air as they began walking. "Well, I could show you the water recycling system or the FTL drives. Or," he swallowed, "the CO's quarters."
It took a moment before realization dawned on her. "Oh! Your personal living area, you mean?"
He looked at her directly. “Right.”
Why the frak not, Laura? You’re newly single, dying, and physically attracted to this surprisingly nice man. Go with him. See what happens, she’d thought.
Suddenly shy, she hummed affirmatively. “I’d like that. I can’t really imagine what living on a ship for years at a time must be like.”
“There are definite advantages to being the CO, and the living space is one of them,” he conceded. “You saw the pilots’ quarters? The duty locker?”
She smiled. “Reminded me of summer camp.”
He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
They walked for a few more minutes, Laura totally lost in the maze of corridors but for the Commander’s sure guidance, before arriving in front of a hatch labeled “Commander’s Quarters.”
“After you,” he said, holding the hatch open.
She stepped through, her mouth gaping slightly at the tidy but very comfortable-looking quarters before her. Whatever her first or even second impression of the Commander may have been, she hadn’t been prepared for the myriad books, the soft lighting (so comforting after the harsh florescent lights ubiquitous throughout the ship), the tasteful art and knick-knacks. It was, she mused, such a contrast, not only to the rest of the ship itself, but to, for instance, Richard’s office in the Hall of Ministry, which despite doubling as a love nest, entirely lacked the warmth of these quarters. While the room contained substantial evidence of the Commander’s heavy workload--a desk laden with papers, overflowing filing cabinets, and the like--this was definitely a home. Commander Adama’s home, she realized. And he was sharing it with her.
She set her purse down on the floor. “This is lovely, Commander.” She turned to face him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“No need for my title in here, please, call me Bill.” He’d busied himself with a bottle of ambrosia chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table, pouring two glasses. Rising from the broad leather sectional couch, he handed her a glass. “Ambrosia?”
“Thank you. Bill.” She tested the sound of the name. “And I’d like it if you called me Laura.” She looked back at the ice bucket and thought back to the circumstances preceding their departure from the party. “Did you...” She shook her head, amused. “Never mind.” Sipping her drink daintily, she wandered toward the bookshelves in the anteroom. “You have quite a collection, Bill.”
He stepped up to join her. “Even old Viper jocks can read, you know,” he said, teasing. “I like lots of genres, but nothing beats a good mystery.”
“Oh!” she gasped, then blushed. “I just finished the one book I brought with me on this trip. A Murder on Picon.”
“The Secretary of Education reads hard-boiled fiction?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She just grinned in an unspoken admission of guilt.
He scanned the shelves and located a slim volume, retrieving it with surprising grace. “So you must love Edward Prima, right?” He handed her the book.
“Dark Day? Oh, I am so embarrassed to admit this, but this is a classic, and yet I’ve never read it.” She opened to the flyleaf and smiled at the “Wm. Adama” written in a precise hand in the upper corner. Turning the page over, her mouth dropped. “A first edition?”
He smirked at her surprise. “It’s a pretty good mystery. I think you’ll like it.” He closed the book and placed his hands over hers around it, and she closed her eyes at the involuntary surge of energy that coursed through her in response to his touch. “To read on your transport back home.”
“I...I couldn’t,” she stuttered. “I’ll get it back to you...”
“It’s a gift,” he said firmly. “Never lend books.”
Realizing it would be futile to argue the point with the Commander in light of her inability to sway him and ultimate concession earlier in the day, Laura gulped slowly. “Thank you, then, Bill.” She clasped the book to her chest and rose up on her toes to give him a feather-light kiss on the cheek.
As she withdrew, she realized he’d moved his hand to her hip to steady her, and was making no effort to repatriate it. In fact, he was caressing it with a gentle pressure.
“I’m sorry we got off to a rough start earlier,” he said huskily.
She shook her head. “Don’t be.” She sighed. “I...was having a bad day, could have been a lot more diplomatic about the computer thing.”
He tugged her closer to him, so they stood face to face, his hands resting lightly on both hips, hers just barely touching his. "I hope your day has gotten better, Laura."
"It definitely has," she agreed breathily.
He moved his right hand up from her hip to caress her jawline, stroking her hair back from her face and cupping the back of her head as he lowered his lips to hers.
His kisses were savoring and unhurried; she hadn’t been kissed like this in years. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer to her as she moaned against his mouth. The parting of her lips allowed him entry, and as tongues tangled, things quickly became too intense for her to continue holding both a glass of ambrosia and a Prima first edition. “Bill...” she muttered as he continued kissing her, “Bill...”
“Hmmm?” He sucked her bottom lip and ran his hand over her ass.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shelf at arms length and shifted against him slightly to withdraw the arm holding the book from between them. “I just want to...ooh”--his hand made its way from her ass to slide up her stomach, under her suit jacket, seeking more sensitive flesh-- “put these things down.”
His eyes shifted to her hand, and he took her glass for her, setting it on the shelf next to the book and his own glass. Turning back to her, he scrutinized her face briefly before reaching for the hook and eye fasteners of her jacket. “You sure about this?"
She nodded. “Yes sir.” He laughed at her invocation of their earlier encounter, now turned on its head. He slid her jacket off her shoulders and arms, draping it neatly over a chair.
Curious, she played at the front of his uniform, sliding her fingers over the seam experimentally. “Have you got anything on under this?”
He gave her a playful grin and pulled the top out from his waistband. “Go ahead and find out.”
Delicate fingers found the single fastener at the upper right of his chest and tugged to loosen it. The tunic fell open easily and she could see that he wore the same set of double tanks she’d seen on so many crew members earlier in the day.
"So easy to take off," she murmured, rubbing her hands over his firm chest, "just a single button..."
He shrugged the jacket off his arms and it dropped to the floor. In one smooth motion, he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the back of his quarters. Her shoes didn't make the journey with her, falling of her feet when he picked her up and tumbling next to his abandoned jacket.
"Bed?" she asked, toying with the short hair at the nape of his neck.
"Rack," he corrected her. "We call it a rack."
She giggled. "Anything you say, sir."
He lowered her gently to the rack, spartan and narrow but neatly made. Leaning over her, he touched her cheek, the wrinkles at the sides of her eyes. "You are beautiful when you laugh like that."
She closed her eyes, uncomfortable with the intensity of his evaluation, and reached for the hem of her blouse. Leaning up slightly, she pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in just her bra, skirt, and stockings.
Laura reached forward to unfasten his belt, struggling with the clasp at first but eventually figuring it out. The fly of his uniform pants went next. She tried to slide the pants down, but they didn’t go very far due to his position kneeling over her.
Sighing, she went to work unzipping her own skirt, giving him a pointed look. He took the hint and stood up, shucking his pants to the floor and stripping off his tanks before rejoining her in the rack. He helped her slide her skirt down her legs. “Better,” he said, admiring the stockings and garter belt she wore.
“You know, Madam Secretary,” he nibbled on her ear, “I’ve never made love in my quarters before.” His breath was hot and heavy as he spoke. “Always wanted to...never had the opportunity.” He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. “And now...just as I’m being forced into retirement, in part due to a decision you made..." He tugged the straps down her shoulders and pulled the garment off, tossing it to the floor. "...Here you are.” A caress to the bare skin of her upper thighs, and he unsnapped the garters. “In my rack.” He rained a trail of lazy kisses from her breasts to her navel. “Like some kind of dream come true.”
"I'm no one's dream girl," she grumbled.
He shook his head in wonder as he rolled the stockings down her legs. "Do you really not know how sexy you are?" He ran his hand from the bottom of her foot all the way back up her long smooth leg, until it was just ghosting at the gusset of her panties. His fingers fluttered over her pussy, and she began to push back against his touch in search of more contact before she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and arched her back to pull them down and off her body, exposing herself fully to him.
Laura reached for him, trying to pull him on top of her to feel the crush of his comforting bulk. Feel, she wanted to feel him, all of him, so that she wouldn’t have to feel all the other things weighing so heavily on her mind. But he wasn’t complying; her wanton display had proved irresistible, though it hadn’t been her intention, and she happily resigned herself to the change of plan when he stroked his tongue through her wetness and placed an uninhibited open-mouthed kiss to her clit.
“Oooh.” She couldn’t help but moan. Emboldened, he suckled the sensitive nub as she writhed beneath him, thrusting her hips closer to his face, seeking more sensation. A thick digit slid inside her, moving in rhythm as his tongue to her clit. When her pants grew quicker, he kept a finger inside her and replaced his mouth with his thumb on her clit, moving up her body so that they were once again face to face.
“Laura,” he breathed, close enough that she could smell the muskiness of her own scent coming off him. “I want you on top.”
She whimpered, half in surprise at his request, and half in despair when he withdrew his hand from her pussy. She gave no resistance, however, when he used his now-free hands to grasp her waist and roll them both so she was astride him.
He still wore his threadbare boxers, and she gave a few short thrusts along his length with the fabric barrier still in place, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric against her clit but needing to feel him inside her again. She scooted back down his thighs so she could pull the boxers down and off his hips, his erection springing free as she did so. She took a moment to admire the impressive appendage, the smooth round head and the dark skin of his shaft. She gave it a few exploratory licks and sucks, engulfing it completely just once before sitting up with a wicked grin. Finally pulling the boxers off his legs completely, she returned to straddling him and teased her slick heat just a few more times against his now-bare length before taking him in hand to guide him and sinking down on him fully.
They both groaned at the perfect fit they made. Once he was fully seated, she rocked back and forth, her mind blissfully empty but for the amazing sensations his cock was creating within her.
His fingers played at the curve of her waist as she shamelessly sought pleasure from him. Neither one spoke; breaths, moans, and touches communicated effectively enough for these strangers. She leaned down over him, encouraging him to lave her breasts and tug at her nipples with his teeth as she rode him increasingly harder and faster.
“Let go, Laura,” he finally whispered against her ear. “Get yourself off. I want you to come.”
She’d already been close, but that last command pushed her over the edge. Her inner muscles spasmed and clenched, and she thrust a few more times to ride out the waves of her orgasm before collapsing atop his chest, their bodies remaining joined, his cock still hard and pulsing.
“Oh gods, Bill.” She kissed him languidly. “That was amazing. Now how do you want to frak me?”
He chuckled and didn’t reply, instead holding her to him as he flipped her over onto her back. He made sure she was comfortable before bracing his hands against the bulkhead and re-entering her in a smooth long stroke.
She was wet and slick, and he thrust easily. Her mind and body were both spent from her earlier orgasm, and she pulled her knees up to allow him to penetrate deeper. The new angle hit her just right, and suddenly she was a participant again, working her hips in counter-rhythm to his sure strokes. His eyes were trained on her between kisses; his gratitude, admiration, grew to be too much, and she turned her head to the side and let her eyes drift shut as he continued to pound heavily into her. They flew open again when he reached down between them and flicked her clit.
Laura gasped. His eyes caught hers, insistent, daring her to look away.
Come for me. I know you can.
She nodded and pulled her knees up even closer to her body as he continued to work her exposed clit in light circles. He was waiting for her.
The thought of being given that power, that he would hold off on her account, touched her deeply. When she felt the impending orgasm, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as she came, letting his mouth swallow her moans of pleasure. His shuddering moans followed, his mouth still pressed to hers and his hands grasping her hips while he came deep inside her.
He’d immediately pulled out and gently cleaned her up first, then himself. Laura was too exhausted to move, or perhaps just too satiated. She barely registered that he’d turned out most of the lights before rejoining her in the rack.
Bill kissed her temple. “Rest,” he whispered.
Laura woke in the middle of the night, feeling claustrophobic in the narrow rack with Bill’s arm slung over her waist. He had thoughtfully suggested that she take the side of the rack furthest from the bulkhead, but she wasn’t used to actually sleeping with a lover, and she had a sudden urge to abscond to her bland guest quarters until it was time for her transport to leave.
She forced herself to breathe and try to enjoy the pleasant aspects of physical proximity. The warmth of his skin; the corded strength of the muscles beneath; the way that, even in repose, he seemed determined to touch her bare skin, gently, reverently. The slightly spicy masculine scent, soap and shampoo mixed with the sweat of their earlier exertions. She took it all in, reminding herself that it was unlikely she’d experience this kind of closeness with another person ever again.
Choking back a sob, she turned her back to him and manipulated her fingers against the flesh of her left breast, kneading and rolling to locate her adversary.
Half-asleep, Bill turned to spoon her and ran his hand up from her stomach to her chest, stilling her roving hand over her breast. “Laura? ‘S okay?” he slurred.
She bit her bottom lip, willing the tears from falling, even though he wouldn’t see them in the dark. “Yeah.”
He pushed her hair aside to nuzzle her ear and whisper softly. “Go back to sleep.”
She wanted him again, wanted to forget about what she would be going back to in the morning. Rotating her hips against his, she whispered back. “What if I’m not ready to?”
His cock instantly hardened against her movements, and his hands fondled her bare breasts as he nipped her earlobe. “Okay by me.”
She wasn’t ready to have sex with him face to face again; their first time had been a bit too intense for her, those blue eyes seemingly able to pierce through her emotional armor. If she could hardly bear to face her life’s choices and bleak prospects, why should he? No, it would either have to be like this, spooning, or...
“Oooph!” Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t been prepared for Bill to slide an arm under her stomach and in one swift motion deposit her underneath him in the center of the rack on her stomach. He was on top of her, alternately kissing and nipping her shoulders and upper back, pushing her hair aside to nuzzle her neck as his hand crept down to toy with her clit and his erection ground insistently against her ass.
When she pushed up off the mattress and bucked against him needily, he grasped her right thigh and brought it atop his. The position spread her wide for him as he breached her and slid his right hand over her hip to reach her clit. As she adjusted to keep her balance in the off-kilter position, he began pumping his hips against her slowly but determinedly.
Slightly taken aback by this rapid turn of events, she turned her head over her shoulder to face him, his craggy face illuminated slightly by the light streaming through the translucent glass door to the head he’d left on for her in case she needed it. “Bill,” she said, arching her back further to allow him deeper penetration. “This is really some move you’ve got.”
He snickered and placed another love bite to the back of her neck, holding her against him tightly as he thrust. “I call it the Adama Maneuver,” he growled, picking up the pace and showing her the benefits of the novel position.
When she awoke in the morning, her mouth felt mothballed, her hair was impossibly mussed, and her lower back and thigh muscles ached as they hadn’t since she’d run her last half-marathon a few years earlier. Carefully extracting herself from Bill’s grasp, she set about collecting her clothes. She took them into the head and dressed, trying and failing to make herself look presentable; while some clothes, like her jacket, had been hung up, others, like her blouse and skirt, had been flung to the floor in a fit of passion, and were now worse for the wear. As she snapped her garters in place, she supposed she should be thankful that Bill had taken care not to put runs in her stockings.
She dragged her fingers through her hair and deemed it hopeless. It was snarled and tangled and voluminous; it looked to her like a sign announcing, “Just Been Frakked.” Her eyes came to rest on his toothbrush, standing in a cup by the sink, and, contemplating the disgusting taste in her mouth of swapped spit and ancient ambrosia residue, she shrugged and borrowed the implement, giving it a careful rinse before and after brushing.
Padding across his quarters from the head back to the anteroom, she hastily located her pumps and sat at his desk to put them on. She nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard a husky voice rumble behind her. “Going somewhere?”
She turned, somewhat guiltily. Bill was wearing a fuzzy brown robe and, it appeared, nothing else. “Let me just throw some clothes on.”
Meekly, she nodded. “I need to pick up my things from my guest quarters and meet my transport at the hangar deck.”
Bill smiled sadly. “I’ll take you.” He turned, she presumed to go dress. Noticing the copy of Dark Day on the shelf next to his desk, she walked over and picked it up. He’d seemed genuine in his offer of giving it to her; it might not be such a bad little memento of her trip. She slipped it into her purse and sat on his couch, waiting.
He returned shortly, wearing a fresh uniform and the previous day’s stubble. She blushed to think of that stubble against her shoulder and neck as he...
That’s over, Laura, she chided herself. Time to let it go. Save that memory for a few months from now, when you really need it. She rose, overly brightly. “Shall we?”
The walk to the guest quarters was quiet. There were a few crewmembers about, but for the most part Laura felt gratefully inconspicuous. They arrived and Bill waited outside as Laura quickly grabbed her rolling suitcase, which had never even gotten unpacked, as well as the few toiletries she’d used in freshening up before the decommissioning ceremony the night before.
She opened the hatch, and Bill stepped in before she could step out. He closed it behind him forcefully and spun so she was backed up against it, his hips pressing into hers, his hand cupping the side of her face as his lips descended on hers.
He took her breath away, so that when he pulled back and asked, “Can I see you again?” she could only look at him dumbly before sputtering out the vaguest of answers.
“I, um...don’t know?” Her eyes implored him not to ask for clarification.
“Maybe?” he asked instead, seemingly amenable to keeping things vague between them.
She nodded. “Maybe.” Smiling, she kissed him this time. “Thank you for the private tour, Commander. It was most”--she grabbed his ass and gave one last squeeze to the firm muscles--”instructional.”
Bill gave her a knowing look. “It was my pleasure, Madam Secretary.”
“Mine too.” With a final peck to his lips, she gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Goodbye, Bill.”
He opened the hatch and pointed down a corridor. “Straight until it ends, then turn right. It’ll take you right to the hangar deck.” He reached out to toy with a lock of her hair before his hand drifted down to squeeze her shoulder. “Take care, Laura.”
As she’d turned and walked away from him, she figured she’d never see him again, but at least she had a pleasant memory to get her through what she expected to be the final months of her life. Still, the experience had rejuvenated her in some ways, reminded her of the benefits a lover other than the President of the Colonies could bestow given the privacy, time, and inclination.
Laura had come back to Caprica after the decommissioning and made good on her promise to Richard to fight for her job, which in turn gave her the focus and will to fight for her life as well by seeking aggressive, experimental cancer treatment. She had faced the fact that she’d be going through the exhausting process by herself, staying at the hospital as needed and using her access to the government car service when she was too weak or ill to drive herself. But three weeks into her treatment, an unexpected visitor--her first--arrived at her room while she was resting.
He'd entered with a bouquet of flowers, wearing civilian dress and a sheepish, if hopeful, smile. "I missed you," he explained simply. "Wanted to see you again, did some asking around...and here I am," he gestured around the sunny private room. "Hope that's okay."
Pique warred with exhaustion, and exhaustion won; she was too tired to fight or even kick him out, not when he was looking at her like that with those deep blue eyes-- tenderly, warmly. Maybe there is someone here for me after all, she'd thought, shocking herself. It must have been extremely difficult for him to find her, as very few people knew about her illness and even fewer knew where she was being treated. She was at a loss to make sense of him being here until she looked back at his hopeful expression and sighed. "Commander," she'd said in greeting from her bed, giving a wave with her unintubated hand. "Have a seat."
He first set the bouquet on her bedside table. She was both embarrassed and relieved that there were no other arrangements in the room; she knew she must look pathetic, but at least he wouldn’t think she had other men in her life.
Bill had placed a kiss to the papery skin of her cheek before proceeding to remind her that it was no longer Commander, just Bill, and that his retirement had gone through and he was now living in Caprica City. "Just a lonely old man with a rat-trap apartment and books for company," he'd said self-deprecatingly. "Who can't get the memory of this amazing woman out of his head."
She'd hummed. "Oh, really?" She offered up her hand to him, feeling the familiar surge of electricity when he clasped it gently. “Too bad. No amazing woman here. Only a sick one.” She smiled wistfully. “Who keeps thinking about the most wonderful experience she had recently aboard a very old battlestar.”
“Me too, Laura.” His eyes drifted from her flannel pajama-clad body, to the bedside table, to the small upholstered chair by the window. Sitting on the chair was his copy of Dark Day. He smiled and crossed the room to pick it up. “You reading this now?”
She nodded and spoke slowly. “I started to on the trip back from the Galactica, but I was so distracted thinking about how to deal with Adar and the strike, and then setting up treatment, that I held off. But I’m glad, it gives me something to look forward to during treatment. I try to read whenever I’m not nauseous.”
He sat in the chair next to her bed. “Do you mind if I read to you? Starting at the beginning?”
She smiled, though it was a struggle. “There’s nothing I’d like better,” she whispered as her eyes drifted shut.
To her amazement, he kept coming back. He kept her company over months of stem-cell treatments and checkups, picking out books from his collection to read to her. He supported her as she continued to work by bringing flowers and lunches to her office at the Ministry of Education and making sure she didn’t stay too late. He made her feel desirable and womanly whether making love to her on her good days or just holding her on the bad. He waited anxiously with her in her doctor’s office as they received the news that she'd overcome the odds and her cancer was in remission. And he celebrated that news with her by asking if she wanted to move in together. She thanked the Gods every day that Bill had insistently barged his way into her life and made living so very worthwhile by showering her with care and affection she surely didn’t deserve.
* ~ * ~ *
The object of her thoughts frowned at the sight of her holding the box, lifting it easily from her straining hands.
"You don't have to move this stuff, Laura. I'll do it.” Bill’s concern was both evident and endearing. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been moving things from room to room all morning.”
"I wouldn’t have to if the movers had actually put the boxes in rooms according to the labels,” she complained, indicating the bold writing on the side of the box. "I was taking that into the library. It's all books." She ran her hand appreciatively along his strong upper arm. "Come on. I’ll take my break in there."
He followed her through the cardboard- and bubble wrap-strewn hallway to the room they'd decided would be the library: her office, Bill's reading room. It was large and sunny, and already contained Laura’s desk, several comfortable chairs, and a squishy leather-upholstered loveseat and matching ottoman they’d picked out. Bill’s handwoven Gemenese rug cast an inviting red glow and tied everything together. Laura was very much looking forward to spending time with Bill in this room.
Bill set the box down near the built-in shelves as Laura gracefully lowered herself into a corner of the loveseat. Bill joined her and looked around the room appraisingly. “It’s coming along,” he observed.
She smiled. “I know. Once we get the books unpacked, we can start decorating. I think this room needs to have some art. And artifacts,” she added, thinking of the antique maps of the Colonies and star charts she’d inherited from her father.
“I thought the Monclair that was over my couch in my quarters on Galactica would look good in the living room,” he offered. “I don’t think it works as well in here. And it’s a little too intense for the dining room.” His gaze came to rest on the generous windowsill. It was large enough to be a window seat, but he and Laura had decided against using it as such, both realizing they preferred more comfortable seating options. “Maybe some sculpture. We could put something there,” he said, pointing at the window.
Laura nodded. “Hmm, I like that idea.” She leaned into his side and gave him a kiss. “You have such good taste, love.”
His eyes darkened. “So do you,” he growled, slipping his tongue past her lips to drink of her deeply.
She returned the kiss, but eventually giggled and leaned her forehead against his. “Maybe we should get to work on setting up the bedroom,” she suggested.
* ~ * ~ *
A week after moving in, much progress had been made. Laura had taken that time off from work, and they had not only unpacked all the boxes and arranged all the furniture, but made love in every room of the house as well.
They lay twined in each other’s limbs and cool sheets as the afternoon sunlight filtered in through gauzy sage-colored curtains. “This feels so decadent,” sighed Laura. “Don’t wanna go back to work.”
Bill grinned. "Hey, I don't want you to, either. Having you all to myself has been wonderful." He patted her hand encouragingly. "But the children of the Colonies need you, Madam Secretary.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist, sending shivers down her spine.
“What do you think about having the kids over here for dinner this weekend?” he asked tentatively.
“Mmmm. Yes,” she murmured agreeably, tracing her fingers along his chest.
"The kids" meant Bill's son Zak and his daughter-in-law, Kara. Kara was a flight instructor at the academy in Delphi; had been Zak's instructor, actually, until she'd flunked him out of Basic Flight, telling him that she loved him, but he just didn't have the feel for piloting a Viper. Now Zak happily ran a coffee shop-cum-art gallery near the flight academy, serving up lattes to stressed nuggets and advice to fellow flunkees.
Laura had never actually met Bill's other son, Lee, though certainly his Viper acrobatics at the ceremony had been impressive. She wasn't entirely sure as to the reasons for his estrangement from Bill, but she did know it hurt Bill that Lee wouldn't agree to see him when he was on shore leave from his assignment on the Battlestar Pegasus and she knew now, although she hadn’t at the time, that Lee had practically refused to talk to him during the decommissioning. From what Zak told them, Lee wasn't very keen to get together with him and Kara, either.
Laura looked up at Bill, who had the countenance of an extremely content man. "Dinner with Zak and Kara sounds lovely, Bill," she told him. "I know they've been wanting to see the house."
"Not sure if I'm ready to share this place with anyone but you yet, though." He gathered her into his embrace. "We'll have to start wearing clothes on a regular basis again."
She laughed, amused. "We were gonna have to do that eventually anyway, Bill. Why don’t you see if they can make it next weekend." She then burst into another fit, this one involuntary. "Stop tickling me!"
"But you're so accessible. I can't help myself, and before I know it, you'll be back in your impenetrable power suits again."
"Admit it, you like my suits."
"Only the skirt ones, and only when you're going up a ladder."
She gasped. "Why Commander! I never would have pegged you for the type."
He wagged his eyebrows at her. "No?"
Sitting up, she playfully shook her finger at him. "I hope I'm the only visiting dignitary you ever subjected to such crass treatment on your ship, Bill," she lectured.
Their eyes caught as they both remembered the “treatment” Laura had received from Bill on his ship after the decommissioning ceremony; as far as they both knew, she had been the only visiting dignitary ever to experience the “Adama Maneuver” aboard the battlestar.
“You wanna...?” asked Bill with a raised eyebrow. Grinning, Laura stretched her back in preparation.
* ~ * ~ *
The chime of the doorbell interrupted Laura’s flower-arranging. “Honey, can you get the door?” she called to Bill.
Hearing no response, she wiped her hands on the apron she wore over a red wrap dress and strode purposefully toward the entryway, opening the door with a wide smile. “Zak! Kara! Come on in!”
The beaming couple, already wrapped up in each other, tumbled into the house and broke apart enough to sandwich Laura in a hug. Their greetings surrounded her in stereo.
“Hey, Laura.” Zak kissed her cheek.
“Old Lady! Nice to see ya!” Kara clapped her back.
Laura took a step back, finding their exuberance slightly overwhelming. “You two look great. Married life really agrees with you, huh?” The couple had eloped while attending the Aquarian summerfest several months prior. She knew Bill was sad that he hadn’t been there, but as they explained it, it was a spur of the moment decision; “We were partying, out of our minds, and she woke up one morning and dragged me and a priest down to the river, then we spent the rest of the day getting tattoos,” according to Zak. Moreover, Laura had been in the midst of her treatment at the time, so she was selfishly relieved that Bill hadn’t been put in a position to choose between keeping her company at the hospital and a last-minute trip to Aquaria.
Kara flushed. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s all right.” She winked at Zak.
“You’re looking well, too, Laura.” Zak’s eyes raked over her critically; she wanted to laugh at his obvious concern for her health, but then she reminded herself of how sick she’d been when they first met, and that he wasn’t used to seeing her with full color, an unemaciated frame, and regrown auburn hair. “So the move went all right?
Laura gestured around. “Come see for yourself. And maybe we’ll find your father while we’re at it.” She turned and they followed her into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
They both looked at each other, then away, and Kara actually blushed. “A glass of water would be great--I’ll get it.” She waved Laura’s efforts off and located the cabinet containing water glasses on her third attempt.
“I’d love a beer, Laura, if you guys have got it,” Zak said.
Just then, Bill entered the kitchen from the door to the backyard. “Hey hey!” He forgot to wipe his feet in his enthusiasm at seeing his son and daughter in law, causing Laura to shake her head. He gave Zak a big hug, and crossed over to Kara, giving her the same treatment. “Have you seen the house?”
Laura cut off Zak’s imminent reply. “We were about to take a tour. Where have you been?”
He grinned. “Planning out our garden, of course. Thought I might talk it over with Zak here, see if he’d be willing to help out with the digging and fencing and all that.”
Laura’s mild frustration faded instantly. “Thought you didn’t have much of a green thumb?” She wrapped her arms around his midsection and gave him a kiss.
The younger couple were both assiduously trying to avoid watching the affectionate display. Laura saw Kara reach for Zak’s hand and felt a wave of happiness crest inside her at her good fortune of ending up with this man, who had raised such a sweet son and gained a daughter-in-law so much like him that she could have been his own child. She smiled at that thought; she knew Bill would have doted on a daughter if he’d had one.
Laura withdrew her arms from around Bill and pulled open the fridge, locating a Virgon Brew for Zak and handing it to him. “You want one too, honey?” she asked Bill.
He wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
Thus fortified with beverages, the foursome made their way through the center-hall colonial, Bill and Laura proudly pointing out small improvements they’d made and fixtures they’d added. Kara oohed and aahed over the precise wainscoting and crown moldings, while Zak seemed impressed with the dimensions and layout of the house.
The library was the highlight of the first floor, the built-in shelves crowded with their combined book collection and overflowing into stacks on the floor behind the desk. Framed diplomas, commissions, and commendations adorned the walls, as well as an official photo of Bill and Laura at the decommissioning ceremony--taken right before they’d left the reception together, to their great amusement now.
“No surprise that the Secretary of Education has lots of books, I guess.” Kara looked around at the vast array.
Zak grinned and inclined his head toward his father. “This is what his quarters on Galactica looked like, too.”
“Not Secretary for too much longer, you know.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Just about five months until Adar’s term ends and I’m out of a job.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do next, Laura?” Zak asked.
She shook her head vaguely. “We’ll see, there are lots of opportunities to consider. But I’ll be glad to take a break from politics.”
“Laura’s been inundated with offers,” Bill bragged.
Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to finish up some of my main objectives for now, then focus on the transition.”
Kara, who hadn’t been very engaged in the conversation regarding Laura’s future employment prospects, crossed the room and plopped down in the window seat. “Seems a little bare over here. I’m surprised you haven’t put more books along this windowsill.”
“Hmm, we had the thought that maybe some art would look nice right there in front of the window.” Laura frowned and looked at Bill. “We really need to figure out something. Maybe go to some galleries in the city and see if we find a piece we like.”
Kara stood slowly and stepped back to look at the area from a distance. “I think you’re right, a large piece might work well for this space.” She glanced at her husband. “You know anyone who works in sculpture, Zak? Who’s been featured at the coffee shop?”
“Oh, besides you, you mean?” His playful grin evoked a sheepish smile from Kara as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Really? A Viper pilot and a sculptress?” Bill let out a long whistle, impressed. “You’re a woman of many talents, Kara Thrace.”
She shook her head, blushing. “Art’s just a hobby, I just play around at painting and some other media as well. Found objects, scrap metal, that kind of thing.”
“We knew you did some of the paintings at the coffee shop,” Laura mused, “good for you, Kara.” She gestured toward the door. “Shall we continue on?”
“I think we might start looking for a house of our own soon.” Zak looked over his shoulder to his father for approval as they trod up the steps, the younger couple leading the way. “Living over the coffee shop has been convenient, but we’re thinking some more space would be good.”
She and Bill exchanged pleased smiles with one another, remembering the way they’d outgrown their old places once they’d begun spending most nights together at one apartment or the other, usually hers. “More space is good,” agreed Laura. “Do you want to stay in Delphi? There are some great properties in the suburbs between Delphi and Caprica City that are good values, lots of space.”
Kara shook her head. “We’re not sure. Haven’t thought about it too much. The idea is...new.” She looked slightly disconcerted.
The kids laughed at Bill for devoting one of the four bedrooms upstairs entirely to Bill’s model ship building hobby before moving on to the two guest rooms and the master suite. Laura felt some trepidation at having Bill’s son in their shared bedroom, but luckily for her, Bill was fastidiously clean, so there was little to be concerned about. The interior tour thus complete, they took the stairs down from the balcony off the master bedroom to inspect the yard and putative garden.
“We were thinking a pergola covered in ivy here at the end of the patio.” Laura walked to the indicated area and spread her arms demonstratively. “It’ll provide some shade in the summer once it grows in.”
Kara’s head was tilted back, looking up at the very tall trees surrounding the backyard. “Nice old growth. I like this, Zak.”
Laura could have sworn Zak said something about a tree swing as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist, but forgot about it as Bill began pacing out the parameters of the “garden.” “Honey, don’t you think that’s a little...large?”
“It’s a tactical decision,” he explained. “Those Caprican squash can take over a garden if you’re not careful. This way”-- he gestured toward the short end of the rectangular plot closest to the property line--”keep it contained in one section, maybe its own raised bed.”
Laura walked to him and surveyed the space. “Okay, Mr. Green Thumb.” She looked at Kara and Zak. “Either of you any good at gardening?
Kara snickered. “Not too much plant life on a battlestar. If we ever have a garden, I’ll leave it to this one.”
“I guess we’ve got that in common, then,” Laura said, smiling at the younger woman.
“Zak and I will learn together.” Bill slung an arm over the shoulders of his son. “Right after he helps me dig up the ground and set up the beds.”
The helper in question groaned good-naturedly, and Laura took that as her cue to move things back inside. “I think dinner is just about ready to come out of the oven. Why don’t we all go in?”
As Laura plated the simple meal of roasted chicken and vegetables, Bill uncorked a bottle of wine.
“Dinner smells amazing,” Kara commented.
Laura smiled in thanks. “I think we’re ready. Zak, do you mind helping me with these plates?”
Directing Kara to carry a basket of rolls, Laura led the procession to the dining room, setting a plate at each perfectly-set place. Bill set the wine down on the table and pulled out a seat for her as Kara and Zak seated themselves next to one another.
Laura took in the scene, unable to school her happy expression. “This is the first time we’ve actually eaten in the dining room. I’m so glad you are both here to join us.” She patted Bill’s arm. “Honey, want to pour some wine?”
Kara and Zak exchanged glances, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Zak drew a deep breath as Bill and Laura watched him expectantly.
“Dad, Laura...I’m going to be a father! Kara is having a baby.” Zak’s pleased smile lit up the whole room, the wattage increased by Bill’s matching one as soon as the words sank in.
Laura was thrilled for the couple, and for Bill. But she was more than a little concerned about Kara. She looked like the wanted to be happy, but wasn’t, or at least had conflicting feelings. “How far along are you?” Laura asked carefully.
Kara cleared her throat. “Almost four months.” Her tense features softened when Zak placed his hand atop hers and laced their fingers together.
“This is just great!” Bill got up from his seat to envelop both his son and daughter-in-law in a hug. “I’m so happy for you both!”
Laura smiled widely at the couple and poured wine for herself, Bill, and Zak, giving Kara a wink. “I think this calls for a toast, don’t you all?”
Bill reached for the glass Laura offered him, their fingers brushing as he accepted it. He raised the glass, and the others followed, Kara raising her water glass. “To our growing family!”
Later that night, long after dinner had been cleaned up, the kids had left, and they’d celebrated the return of their solitude by making love on the Gemenese rug in the library, Laura lay in bed with Bill, her head on his bare shoulder. “You ready to be a grandfather, honey?”
She could feel his smile against the top of her head. “You ready to be a grandmother?”
Laura propped herself up on her elbow so she could face him. “Me? I’ll just be grandpa’s girlfriend. Yes, I like that. ‘Girlfriend,’ it’s like the opposite of grandmother.”
A lazy grin crept across his face. “What if I don’t want you to be my girlfriend?”
She leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his chest. “Well, seeing as we just bought this house together, and are ridiculously happy, I’ll assume you’re not suggesting that we break up. You just want a different title? One more befitting our age? Companion? Domestic partner?”
He pushed himself into a sitting position, and she followed his lead. Bill took her hands in his and looked at her intently, the intensity of his gaze causing her to shiver.
“Marry me, Laura.”
She giggled, taken aback at his proposition, and then cringed inwardly at her involuntary reaction. “What?” She tucked her feet underneath her and rocked back on her heels, plucking nervously at the hem of her silk negligee. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m serious. I love you. You’re my partner, my family. I want to be yours. Will you marry me, Laura Roslin?”
Laura nodded slowly, disbelieving. “I....Okay.” He reached out to caress her cheek, and she smiled into his touch. “Yes.”
Next part: Breaking New Ground (rated MA)