"Picking up the Pieces" - Adama/Roslin Drabble
Title: Picking up the Pieces
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written as a companion piece to my birthday gift from redrockcan, Loving Comfort. Thanks to redrockcan for the beta.
“You don’t have to do this,” he grunted as she gently cleaned his face with the warm washcloth.
“Yes I do,” she snapped.
He could hear the irritation, and anger in her voice. In her eyes, he could see the disappointment and worry clouding her vision. Her hands shook slightly as she wrung out the soiled cloth in the sink and grabbed a clean one.
He lightly grasped her trembling wrist, silently begging her to stop. He could feel her erratic pulse beating beneath his fingertips.
“There’s so much blood,” she said, her voice cracking. “If I don’t clean you up, I won’t be able to tell how deep the cuts are, if you’ll need stitches…”
“Okay, okay,” he relented. The tenderness in her touch made his heart flutter, it had been so long since she last touched him like this, so long since those few days spent in her tent, learning and loving her. Those scant memories haunted him; like the ghost of her touch now.
He was weak; he couldn’t deny himself the chance to feel her this close to him once again; to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to smell her delicate perfume, to feel her steady breaths against his skin.
When she was finished, she placed the cloth aside along with his discarded and bloodied tanks. He felt her hands rest against the sides of his neck.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” she whispered, low and dangerous. Hot tears prickled at her eyes. He could feel the strain in her hands, as they fought not to clutch the marred skin beneath them.
“That’s an order.” A stubborn tear broke loose and Bill found himself gently wiping it away. She turned her head to place a lingering kiss against his palm.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully and humbly, “for putting me back together.”
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written as a companion piece to my birthday gift from redrockcan, Loving Comfort. Thanks to redrockcan for the beta.
“You don’t have to do this,” he grunted as she gently cleaned his face with the warm washcloth.
“Yes I do,” she snapped.
He could hear the irritation, and anger in her voice. In her eyes, he could see the disappointment and worry clouding her vision. Her hands shook slightly as she wrung out the soiled cloth in the sink and grabbed a clean one.
He lightly grasped her trembling wrist, silently begging her to stop. He could feel her erratic pulse beating beneath his fingertips.
“There’s so much blood,” she said, her voice cracking. “If I don’t clean you up, I won’t be able to tell how deep the cuts are, if you’ll need stitches…”
“Okay, okay,” he relented. The tenderness in her touch made his heart flutter, it had been so long since she last touched him like this, so long since those few days spent in her tent, learning and loving her. Those scant memories haunted him; like the ghost of her touch now.
He was weak; he couldn’t deny himself the chance to feel her this close to him once again; to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to smell her delicate perfume, to feel her steady breaths against his skin.
When she was finished, she placed the cloth aside along with his discarded and bloodied tanks. He felt her hands rest against the sides of his neck.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” she whispered, low and dangerous. Hot tears prickled at her eyes. He could feel the strain in her hands, as they fought not to clutch the marred skin beneath them.
“That’s an order.” A stubborn tear broke loose and Bill found himself gently wiping it away. She turned her head to place a lingering kiss against his palm.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully and humbly, “for putting me back together.”