"Last Promises" - Adama/Roslin Drabble
Title: Last Promises
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the adama_roslin holiday gift exchange for kaitlynn96 who wanted a fic set during Daybreak, after Laura volunteers for the mission.
Other wish list items:
1) Sexy pic of Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos together: I love this photo of them, you can really see the affection between them, and they're always laughing around each other. And I love that they still appear to be such great friends well after BSG.
2) A picture of something hot that Laura should have worn in the series: I think that this dress is so sexy, but also so classy. I can see Laura owning something like this back on Caprica.
Last Promises:
“Ishay tells me that you’re helping in sickbay,” Bill says, his voice caresses her ear in time with his hand on her face.
“Yes,” she says resolutely.
They’re still in the middle of the hangar deck, people are hustling by them, preparing for Galactica’s final mission, and they are lost in each other. It’s always been between them, even now.
“I would make you promise to be careful, but then again you’d probably disregard that just to prove a point,” the affectionate twinkle in his eye gives him away.
“And I’d ask you to do the same, but you’ve always enjoyed being a martyr.” She winks at him, her dry lips quirking into that sly grin that he loves so very, very, much.
“It’s no wonder we ended up together then,” he deadpans, and leans in closer to whisper, “you complete me.” She shivers delightfully at his words, but as she tries to respond a young pilot interrupts them apologetically. Duty calls, she muses.
Bill regards her, regret etched into his worn features. “I have to go now,” he rasps, everything about his tone indicating that he would rather stay with her.
She smiles proudly at him. “Go on Flyboy,” she says with another wink. She swears that he puffs his chest out just a little bit at her term of endearment.
“I’ll come find you after,” he says, his words like granite.
“I know you will, I’ll be waiting for you.” Her words are just as resolute.
He leans forward, hand cupping her cheek, and kisses her softly. For a moment, they are no longer the President and the Admiral of the Fleet; they’re just another battle-worn couple saying their silent - and perhaps final - goodbyes on the crowded hanger bay of a warship.
When they part, they can each feel the weight of their silent words, tattooed on their lips.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 300 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the adama_roslin holiday gift exchange for kaitlynn96 who wanted a fic set during Daybreak, after Laura volunteers for the mission.
Other wish list items:
1) Sexy pic of Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos together: I love this photo of them, you can really see the affection between them, and they're always laughing around each other. And I love that they still appear to be such great friends well after BSG.
2) A picture of something hot that Laura should have worn in the series: I think that this dress is so sexy, but also so classy. I can see Laura owning something like this back on Caprica.
Last Promises:
“Ishay tells me that you’re helping in sickbay,” Bill says, his voice caresses her ear in time with his hand on her face.
“Yes,” she says resolutely.
They’re still in the middle of the hangar deck, people are hustling by them, preparing for Galactica’s final mission, and they are lost in each other. It’s always been between them, even now.
“I would make you promise to be careful, but then again you’d probably disregard that just to prove a point,” the affectionate twinkle in his eye gives him away.
“And I’d ask you to do the same, but you’ve always enjoyed being a martyr.” She winks at him, her dry lips quirking into that sly grin that he loves so very, very, much.
“It’s no wonder we ended up together then,” he deadpans, and leans in closer to whisper, “you complete me.” She shivers delightfully at his words, but as she tries to respond a young pilot interrupts them apologetically. Duty calls, she muses.
Bill regards her, regret etched into his worn features. “I have to go now,” he rasps, everything about his tone indicating that he would rather stay with her.
She smiles proudly at him. “Go on Flyboy,” she says with another wink. She swears that he puffs his chest out just a little bit at her term of endearment.
“I’ll come find you after,” he says, his words like granite.
“I know you will, I’ll be waiting for you.” Her words are just as resolute.
He leans forward, hand cupping her cheek, and kisses her softly. For a moment, they are no longer the President and the Admiral of the Fleet; they’re just another battle-worn couple saying their silent - and perhaps final - goodbyes on the crowded hanger bay of a warship.
When they part, they can each feel the weight of their silent words, tattooed on their lips.