She runs her hands over the controls, reverently, almost lovingly. Being President of the Twelve Frakking Colonies should be enough of a power trip, but there’s something oddly appealing-almost alluring-about the airlock, and she doesn’t question what had immediately drawn her here upon boarding Galactica. She decides to chalk it up to necessity:
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Part of me wishes that I could see Bill & Tigh as kids, making themselves gifts at some form of summer camp. Bill making Tigh a boat, Tigh making Bill a bottle. Boy would they end up with each other's gifts. *prays she doesn't get killed*
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Oh, the mind is perpetually in the gutter when it comes to these two. But how're we supposed to help it with this chemistry?
Ha! Little Bill and Tigh. What an awesome semi-crack!fic that would make. *hopes Tigh hasn't found you* (Bill, I think, might be okay with being cute. One-eyed Tigh would probably be ready for a smackdown just to prove you wrong.)
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*wipes off console*
Great, I really loved it. Really well-written, and very hot.
Yes. Hot.
(forcibly removes hand from keyboard)
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And don't you just love these icons?
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You're imagery was perfect. You wrote with heat and not a single bit of smut. That's hard to do.
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And thank you. Really, I don't think I COULD write smut without giggling or getting weirdly embarrassed, lol. This is about as close as it gets.
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