"Don't Be So Blue, So Blue My Love" Adama/Roslin fic
Title: Don't Be So Blue, So Blue My Love
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.
A/N: Written for about_time 's second challenge, "Five times that Bill and Laura didn't kiss and one time that they did." The title is from a Regina Spektor song, "I Want to Sing." Thanks to my lovely beta, nixmom for her suggestions.
*
Their bodies are so close Laura can feel the heat radiating off of him from beneath his dress greys. She feels dizzy, out of control, reckless, and horny. She needs to end this dance, now. He smells so good, he feels so good; she needs to get out of his arms and into a safe place.
“Everything ok?” He rumbles against her cheek. When did he get so close to her? She can feel his warm breath tickle her skin. It takes all of her inner strength not to moan at the sound of his sexy, deep voice.
“I’m fine.” She manages to squeak.
The music begins to wind down, and couples start leaving the dance floor for refreshments. Laura is relieved, and she quickly parts from Bill, removing her hands from him. She isn’t quick enough, however, as he catches the hand that was resting on his shoulder.
“Thank you for the dance.” He says before lifting her hand to his lips and gently kissing her.
This time, she is unable to help the slight moan that escapes from her. Bill offers her a smug grin, before leaving her on the dance floor, knees weak, and panties soaked.
**
Laura is cold. Cottle has just wrapped another blanket around her body, yet she is still shivering. She hears the distinct, deep baritone voice before she sees him. She hears him speaking with Cottle, asking what he can do to help her.
“Stay with her. Keep her company. She needs you to be strong, now more than ever.” He offers, she can hear the sympathy in his voice.
“Hey.” Bill sits beside her, lifts her hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss against her prominent veins. “I know that it’s been a while since you’ve had a day off, but I think you’re getting to be downright lazy now Roslin.” She smiles, she wants to laugh but it’s too painful. He understands.
“I’m not going anywhere, ok?” Bill promises as he brushes a lock of hair out of her face, and his hands tremble slightly. She can see the tears on his face, and she knows that he can see the ones on hers.
His thumb lovingly traces the bruises and needle punctures on her hand; Laura is warm now.
***
“Why Bill?” She is still crying, she is still angry, at herself, at the fleet, at Bill.
“I can’t let you go through with it Laura.” He tells her.
“Why?” She needs to know, needs to hear it.
“Because I love you.” He offers simply. Preventing her from stealing this election will save her dignity, but most importantly it will save her soul. She’s known all along, but this is the first time he’s said it in words. He steps forward, and lightly cups her cheek with his hand, his warm, rough, but strong hand. She nuzzles her face into his palm and places a kiss against his wrist.
She’s known all along that he loved her, but it isn’t until this moment that she can finally admit to herself that she loves him too.
****
“Why did you kiss me?” She’s high, warm, and so very, very alive. She hasn’t felt this good in years, maybe even never.
“Because I wanted to.” He slurs; he’s also high, much higher than she is. The weed makes Bill unashamedly flirtatious, and Laura loves it.
“Why’d you let me?” He counters.
“Because I wanted you to.” She states. Truer words were never spoken.
She feels the soft kiss that he presses to the crown of her head before she hears his light snores.
*****
He came back to his quarters to call her on a private line on Colonial One, but when he enters the room, his breath hitches. She is curled up on his couch, clutching a small bag containing what Bill assumes to be civilian clothing. She has dried blood and dirt caked on her face, clothing, and hair, her outfit has several holes and mismatched patches. Bill has never seen a more beautiful sight.
He crouches down on the floor next to her, gently tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Just as gently, he wipes away most of the grime from her face, before placing a soft kiss to her cheek. He feels her eyelashes flutter and when he draws back he looks directly into her eyes.
“Missed you.” She whispers, her voice is still husky from her nap.
“Me too.” The lump in his throat prevents him from saying anything else.
“Hold me?” She asks shyly.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice.
******
It’s become his favourite way of waking up; he doubts he will ever be able to get out of bed once she is gone.
She’s always the first one up, it doesn’t matter if she’s only just gone to bed. She twists her fingers around his dog tags, and pulls him impossibly closer to her before kissing him like it’s the end of the worlds all over again.
Her lips are dry now, but no less addictive, her mouth is parched, but her tongue is no less demanding. She breathes what’s left of her own life into him every morning, threads her hands in his hair and holds him to her as she marks him as hers. He lays there, and allows her to launch her assault, tries to commit every detail to his memory.
The curve of her skull in his hands is so soft, and so familiar now, as is the delicate skin above her prominent rib cage. Her breasts are heavy and soft against his chest, her legs are smooth and long and feel amazing wrapped around his hips, his shoulders, his own legs.
After each deep, kiss, she places a softer, smaller kiss against his lips and pulls back slightly so that she can see the beautiful smile on his face.
“I love you.” She says it all the time now; it makes his heart swell with happiness. “I love you so, so, much.”
He’s known all along, but he’ll never tire of hearing her say it.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.
A/N: Written for about_time 's second challenge, "Five times that Bill and Laura didn't kiss and one time that they did." The title is from a Regina Spektor song, "I Want to Sing." Thanks to my lovely beta, nixmom for her suggestions.
*
Their bodies are so close Laura can feel the heat radiating off of him from beneath his dress greys. She feels dizzy, out of control, reckless, and horny. She needs to end this dance, now. He smells so good, he feels so good; she needs to get out of his arms and into a safe place.
“Everything ok?” He rumbles against her cheek. When did he get so close to her? She can feel his warm breath tickle her skin. It takes all of her inner strength not to moan at the sound of his sexy, deep voice.
“I’m fine.” She manages to squeak.
The music begins to wind down, and couples start leaving the dance floor for refreshments. Laura is relieved, and she quickly parts from Bill, removing her hands from him. She isn’t quick enough, however, as he catches the hand that was resting on his shoulder.
“Thank you for the dance.” He says before lifting her hand to his lips and gently kissing her.
This time, she is unable to help the slight moan that escapes from her. Bill offers her a smug grin, before leaving her on the dance floor, knees weak, and panties soaked.
**
Laura is cold. Cottle has just wrapped another blanket around her body, yet she is still shivering. She hears the distinct, deep baritone voice before she sees him. She hears him speaking with Cottle, asking what he can do to help her.
“Stay with her. Keep her company. She needs you to be strong, now more than ever.” He offers, she can hear the sympathy in his voice.
“Hey.” Bill sits beside her, lifts her hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss against her prominent veins. “I know that it’s been a while since you’ve had a day off, but I think you’re getting to be downright lazy now Roslin.” She smiles, she wants to laugh but it’s too painful. He understands.
“I’m not going anywhere, ok?” Bill promises as he brushes a lock of hair out of her face, and his hands tremble slightly. She can see the tears on his face, and she knows that he can see the ones on hers.
His thumb lovingly traces the bruises and needle punctures on her hand; Laura is warm now.
***
“Why Bill?” She is still crying, she is still angry, at herself, at the fleet, at Bill.
“I can’t let you go through with it Laura.” He tells her.
“Why?” She needs to know, needs to hear it.
“Because I love you.” He offers simply. Preventing her from stealing this election will save her dignity, but most importantly it will save her soul. She’s known all along, but this is the first time he’s said it in words. He steps forward, and lightly cups her cheek with his hand, his warm, rough, but strong hand. She nuzzles her face into his palm and places a kiss against his wrist.
She’s known all along that he loved her, but it isn’t until this moment that she can finally admit to herself that she loves him too.
****
“Why did you kiss me?” She’s high, warm, and so very, very alive. She hasn’t felt this good in years, maybe even never.
“Because I wanted to.” He slurs; he’s also high, much higher than she is. The weed makes Bill unashamedly flirtatious, and Laura loves it.
“Why’d you let me?” He counters.
“Because I wanted you to.” She states. Truer words were never spoken.
She feels the soft kiss that he presses to the crown of her head before she hears his light snores.
*****
He came back to his quarters to call her on a private line on Colonial One, but when he enters the room, his breath hitches. She is curled up on his couch, clutching a small bag containing what Bill assumes to be civilian clothing. She has dried blood and dirt caked on her face, clothing, and hair, her outfit has several holes and mismatched patches. Bill has never seen a more beautiful sight.
He crouches down on the floor next to her, gently tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Just as gently, he wipes away most of the grime from her face, before placing a soft kiss to her cheek. He feels her eyelashes flutter and when he draws back he looks directly into her eyes.
“Missed you.” She whispers, her voice is still husky from her nap.
“Me too.” The lump in his throat prevents him from saying anything else.
“Hold me?” She asks shyly.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice.
******
It’s become his favourite way of waking up; he doubts he will ever be able to get out of bed once she is gone.
She’s always the first one up, it doesn’t matter if she’s only just gone to bed. She twists her fingers around his dog tags, and pulls him impossibly closer to her before kissing him like it’s the end of the worlds all over again.
Her lips are dry now, but no less addictive, her mouth is parched, but her tongue is no less demanding. She breathes what’s left of her own life into him every morning, threads her hands in his hair and holds him to her as she marks him as hers. He lays there, and allows her to launch her assault, tries to commit every detail to his memory.
The curve of her skull in his hands is so soft, and so familiar now, as is the delicate skin above her prominent rib cage. Her breasts are heavy and soft against his chest, her legs are smooth and long and feel amazing wrapped around his hips, his shoulders, his own legs.
After each deep, kiss, she places a softer, smaller kiss against his lips and pulls back slightly so that she can see the beautiful smile on his face.
“I love you.” She says it all the time now; it makes his heart swell with happiness. “I love you so, so, much.”
He’s known all along, but he’ll never tire of hearing her say it.