Fic: A Night Off
For the 'it's canon with music' challenge over at ar_drabbles.
Title: A Night Off
Word count: 300
Rating: K
She wasn’t sure how Bill had talked her into attending Lieutenant Gaeta’s birthday karaoke night in Joe’s Bar. It surely wasn’t appropriate for the President to be here. But here she was, perched on a bar stool, glass of something probably toxic in one hand, gazing around the room with interest.
It was obvious the alcohol had been flowing freely. Sam Anders was slowly sliding down the bar next to her after drunkenly slurring in her ear for five minutes about how beautiful his wife looked. Said wife looked a mess, quite frankly; hair all over the place and red-faced from dancing. Saul Tigh was morosely downing his umpteenth drink over in a corner. Racetrack and Kat seemed to be in the midst of some kind of contest that involved a lot of shouting and sloshing of liquid around. Lee was sitting beside Dualla, but his eyes were following Kara around the room. The birthday boy appeared to have passed out. And Bill…
Well. Bill was up on the makeshift stage, butchering some song she vaguely recognised. She winced as he hit yet another wrong note. She could only make out one word in five, but she thought she recalled the lyrics concerning a girl the singer just couldn’t take his eyes off. And his eyes kept slipping her way. Actually, his eyes were on her constantly, and had been throughout the whole song.
Subtle, Bill. Real subtle.
Thank the gods, it was over. He was heading her way.
“Lovely performance, Admiral.”
He winked at her, holding out a hand.
“And I can dance.”
“Which is a mercy, because you really can’t sing.” She grinned back at him and stood up.
“Good job I love you anyway” she murmured in his ear as he led her over to the dancefloor.
Title: A Night Off
Word count: 300
Rating: K
She wasn’t sure how Bill had talked her into attending Lieutenant Gaeta’s birthday karaoke night in Joe’s Bar. It surely wasn’t appropriate for the President to be here. But here she was, perched on a bar stool, glass of something probably toxic in one hand, gazing around the room with interest.
It was obvious the alcohol had been flowing freely. Sam Anders was slowly sliding down the bar next to her after drunkenly slurring in her ear for five minutes about how beautiful his wife looked. Said wife looked a mess, quite frankly; hair all over the place and red-faced from dancing. Saul Tigh was morosely downing his umpteenth drink over in a corner. Racetrack and Kat seemed to be in the midst of some kind of contest that involved a lot of shouting and sloshing of liquid around. Lee was sitting beside Dualla, but his eyes were following Kara around the room. The birthday boy appeared to have passed out. And Bill…
Well. Bill was up on the makeshift stage, butchering some song she vaguely recognised. She winced as he hit yet another wrong note. She could only make out one word in five, but she thought she recalled the lyrics concerning a girl the singer just couldn’t take his eyes off. And his eyes kept slipping her way. Actually, his eyes were on her constantly, and had been throughout the whole song.
Subtle, Bill. Real subtle.
Thank the gods, it was over. He was heading her way.
“Lovely performance, Admiral.”
He winked at her, holding out a hand.
“And I can dance.”
“Which is a mercy, because you really can’t sing.” She grinned back at him and stood up.
“Good job I love you anyway” she murmured in his ear as he led her over to the dancefloor.