"At Home in Your Tainted Gaze" - Adama/Roslin Drabble
Title: At Home in Your Tainted Gaze
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "bespectacled" challenge at ar_drabbles. The excerpt of the poem in this drabble is from Pablo Neruda's "And because Love battles."
Bill adjusted the book in his hand, holding it directly under the magnifying glass.
“Frak,” he murmured, “I miss my glasses.”
“Here,” Laura said as she reached for the wobbly cart next to her which was acting as a night table, “use mine.”
He took the frames reluctantly: “I don’t think these are going to fit my head,” he said mournfully.
“They’re too big on me now anyway.”
She’d been unable to read properly without her glasses for years. Her inability to wear the glasses now meant that she had to give up another part of her independence; any document or piece of literature that was presented her had to be filtered through the eyes of another.
Bill pursed his lips. She had lost even more weight in recent weeks. He often noticed how her glasses would slide down her nose or fall right off if she leaned too far forward. He knew that she missed being able to do something as simple as read without the help of others.
Gently, he perched them on the tip of his nose, trying not to stretch the sides even more. He blinked.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like you’re ready to read an entire library to me,” she smiled.
“I wish that I could read to you,” she tangled their fingers together, “I’d like to be able to do that for you.”
Bill closed the book and carefully removed her glasses.
“You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,”
His words washed over her gently, enveloping her in an intimate embrace.
“That’s beautiful,” she said. “Who wrote that?”
He leaned forward to brush his lips against her hand.
“I did.”
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "bespectacled" challenge at ar_drabbles. The excerpt of the poem in this drabble is from Pablo Neruda's "And because Love battles."
Bill adjusted the book in his hand, holding it directly under the magnifying glass.
“Frak,” he murmured, “I miss my glasses.”
“Here,” Laura said as she reached for the wobbly cart next to her which was acting as a night table, “use mine.”
He took the frames reluctantly: “I don’t think these are going to fit my head,” he said mournfully.
“They’re too big on me now anyway.”
She’d been unable to read properly without her glasses for years. Her inability to wear the glasses now meant that she had to give up another part of her independence; any document or piece of literature that was presented her had to be filtered through the eyes of another.
Bill pursed his lips. She had lost even more weight in recent weeks. He often noticed how her glasses would slide down her nose or fall right off if she leaned too far forward. He knew that she missed being able to do something as simple as read without the help of others.
Gently, he perched them on the tip of his nose, trying not to stretch the sides even more. He blinked.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like you’re ready to read an entire library to me,” she smiled.
“I wish that I could read to you,” she tangled their fingers together, “I’d like to be able to do that for you.”
Bill closed the book and carefully removed her glasses.
“You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,”
His words washed over her gently, enveloping her in an intimate embrace.
“That’s beautiful,” she said. “Who wrote that?”
He leaned forward to brush his lips against her hand.
“I did.”