"Morning Delight" - Adama/Roslin Fic
Title: Morning Delight
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 1, 216 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show
A/N: This was written for afrakaday's birthday. One of her fabulous prompts was "Bill and Laura cooking together." Happy, happy birthday to you! This fic is set a few days after ADFMS, but before The Oath.
He felt her slim arms encircle his waist; a moment later her lips caressed the back of his neck. She was getting frighteningly good at sneaking up on him; he’d have to ask her later if she’d ever considered a career in the military, her steps against the floor had failed to make even the slightest of sounds.
Part of him grimaced and part of him melted under her touch; he’d hoped that he could do this quiet enough to afford her some extra time to sleep in. But it seemed that he had either failed at his task, or that she had sensed his absence during her sleep and had simply missed being near him. Either way, his heart and body could not help but crave her presence, her touch; her love was a beacon to him now, he couldn’t hope to ever resist it.
“And what do you think you’re doing out of bed this early my dear Admiral? Who said that I was even close to being done with you?” Her warm, sweet breath tickled the hairs at the nape of his neck. He could feel the smile tugging at her lips and he found himself smiling in return.
“Good morning to you as well Madam President,” he said softly. He turned around in her arms and was confronted by the startling green of her eyes which seemed to stand out even more thanks to the olive, oversized sweater that she was wearing. “My sweater looks good on you.”
She giggled. “It feels good on me. It smells like you,” she countered. The hood was drawn up over her head, the sleeves tickled the very tips of her fingers and the hem of the material ended mid-thigh. The rest of her was deliciously bare.
Bill smiled warmly and rested his hands on her clothed shoulders. “May I?” he asked; at her consenting nod, he slipped the material down and off her bare head. He’d gotten used to her lack of hair surprisingly fast. After a few days he’d stopped noticing the smoothness of her scalp altogether and had started noticing how large and open her eyes looked now that the thick layers of her auburn tresses couldn’t hide them.
Laura nuzzled the skin of his neck as he enveloped her in his embrace. She sighed against the warmth of his bare chest and reveled in the steady beating of his heart. “Are you making me breakfast?” she mumbled pleasantly against his pulse.
“Maybe,” he whispered against her sensitive scalp. He couldn’t help but tease her, she brought out his desire to be carefree and playful. He felt her pinch his upper arm impatiently and he chuckled, “I am attempting to make us breakfast in bed. Though it’s proving to be a real challenge given that both our cooking utensils and ingredients are pretty limited. But I do have a silver serving tray which I am ready to deploy.”
Laura drew back from his arms slightly to kiss him soundly on the lips. “Mmm, that’s very domestic of you Admiral,” she teased.
“What can I say? I’m a domestic kind of guy,” he retorted.
Laura chuckled dryly. “Sure you are.”
At her disbelieving look he added, “Especially now that I share my home with a beautiful temptress. She makes me regret that I have to leave our bed every morning,” he said softly.
His honest flattery earned him the kind of smile that reached all the way up to her eyes, the kind that made the delicate skin crinkle. He loved it when she smiled that like.
She surveyed the scene before them; on their table was a kettle with boiled water, an unmarked box, which sat in front of two bowls and a tray holding two full cups of coffee.
“I asked he boys in the kitchen to bring something that we could make without their assistance, well, with as little as possible. They had some plain oatmeal that they’d been saving, as well as a portable burner and percolator to make coffee. When life gives you lemons…” he trailed off with a shrug.
He wanted to surprised Laura in bed with a platter of fresh, organic fruit and whipped cream. He wanted to drizzle syrup across hot pancakes for her, he wanted to feed her using silver cutlery and gold-trimmed saucers. He wanted to bring her decadent hot coco and watch her eyes light up as she devoured her meal. He wanted to trade chocolate-flavoured kissed with her and, if she were up to it, paint her beautiful body with the whipped cream and pay worship to her with his mouth.
Four year-old preserved oatmeal and stale coffee was hardly the romantic breakfast-in-bed he’d hoped to surprise her with. He had to settle for much less; then again, they all had to settle for much less these days. It was becoming instinctual.
“It’s perfect Bill,” she told him abruptly. She could sense exactly where his mind had taken him. “Did you know that I used to eat oatmeal everyday for breakfast on Caprica?”
She moved to stand between him and the items on the table. Wordlessly, they began to work together to un-package the oatmeal and pour a serving of boiled water into each bowl. Laura stirred the mush while Bill’s hands rested contently on her hips, his lips at the base of her neck.
“I used to eat it every morning after I went for a run by the lake. The scenery was so beautiful; I used to stop halfway on my run each day just so I could admire the view for a bit. I’d come home and fix myself some oatmeal and tea then get ready for my day. It was a comforting routine, something that made me feel grounded,” she mused.
Bill grumbled against her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine.
“Hmm?” she prompted.
He sighed. “I said that I wish I had more to offer you.”
She turned in his arms once again to seek out the beautiful blue of his eyes. “Oh Bill, you’ve given me everything that I could ever ask for, everything that I could ever need,” she affirmed. “I feel so much more than grounded with you, I feel free, alive, uninhibited; I love the way that you make me feel.”
He smiled into her frenzied kisses. For a moment, they both held onto each other, neither one was willing just yet to let go of the other.
Over her shoulder, he could see the steam above the bowls of their meal lessening. “That’s going to get cold,” he chuckled, gesturing to their mundane meal. He at least wanted to share a hot meal with her.
She smiled impishly at him. “Then you ought to bring this back to bed so that we can enjoy your efforts at once. That’s an order soldier,” she sassed.
“Yes M’am,” he said playfully as he gathered the bowls and placed them on the tray along with their coffee. “Today’s a good day,” he said as he followed her retreating figure back to the rumpled sheets of their now shared bed.
As Laura divested herself of her borrowed sweater she threw a smoldering look over her bare shoulder.
“And it’s only just begun,” she promised.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 1, 216 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show
A/N: This was written for afrakaday's birthday. One of her fabulous prompts was "Bill and Laura cooking together." Happy, happy birthday to you! This fic is set a few days after ADFMS, but before The Oath.
He felt her slim arms encircle his waist; a moment later her lips caressed the back of his neck. She was getting frighteningly good at sneaking up on him; he’d have to ask her later if she’d ever considered a career in the military, her steps against the floor had failed to make even the slightest of sounds.
Part of him grimaced and part of him melted under her touch; he’d hoped that he could do this quiet enough to afford her some extra time to sleep in. But it seemed that he had either failed at his task, or that she had sensed his absence during her sleep and had simply missed being near him. Either way, his heart and body could not help but crave her presence, her touch; her love was a beacon to him now, he couldn’t hope to ever resist it.
“And what do you think you’re doing out of bed this early my dear Admiral? Who said that I was even close to being done with you?” Her warm, sweet breath tickled the hairs at the nape of his neck. He could feel the smile tugging at her lips and he found himself smiling in return.
“Good morning to you as well Madam President,” he said softly. He turned around in her arms and was confronted by the startling green of her eyes which seemed to stand out even more thanks to the olive, oversized sweater that she was wearing. “My sweater looks good on you.”
She giggled. “It feels good on me. It smells like you,” she countered. The hood was drawn up over her head, the sleeves tickled the very tips of her fingers and the hem of the material ended mid-thigh. The rest of her was deliciously bare.
Bill smiled warmly and rested his hands on her clothed shoulders. “May I?” he asked; at her consenting nod, he slipped the material down and off her bare head. He’d gotten used to her lack of hair surprisingly fast. After a few days he’d stopped noticing the smoothness of her scalp altogether and had started noticing how large and open her eyes looked now that the thick layers of her auburn tresses couldn’t hide them.
Laura nuzzled the skin of his neck as he enveloped her in his embrace. She sighed against the warmth of his bare chest and reveled in the steady beating of his heart. “Are you making me breakfast?” she mumbled pleasantly against his pulse.
“Maybe,” he whispered against her sensitive scalp. He couldn’t help but tease her, she brought out his desire to be carefree and playful. He felt her pinch his upper arm impatiently and he chuckled, “I am attempting to make us breakfast in bed. Though it’s proving to be a real challenge given that both our cooking utensils and ingredients are pretty limited. But I do have a silver serving tray which I am ready to deploy.”
Laura drew back from his arms slightly to kiss him soundly on the lips. “Mmm, that’s very domestic of you Admiral,” she teased.
“What can I say? I’m a domestic kind of guy,” he retorted.
Laura chuckled dryly. “Sure you are.”
At her disbelieving look he added, “Especially now that I share my home with a beautiful temptress. She makes me regret that I have to leave our bed every morning,” he said softly.
His honest flattery earned him the kind of smile that reached all the way up to her eyes, the kind that made the delicate skin crinkle. He loved it when she smiled that like.
She surveyed the scene before them; on their table was a kettle with boiled water, an unmarked box, which sat in front of two bowls and a tray holding two full cups of coffee.
“I asked he boys in the kitchen to bring something that we could make without their assistance, well, with as little as possible. They had some plain oatmeal that they’d been saving, as well as a portable burner and percolator to make coffee. When life gives you lemons…” he trailed off with a shrug.
He wanted to surprised Laura in bed with a platter of fresh, organic fruit and whipped cream. He wanted to drizzle syrup across hot pancakes for her, he wanted to feed her using silver cutlery and gold-trimmed saucers. He wanted to bring her decadent hot coco and watch her eyes light up as she devoured her meal. He wanted to trade chocolate-flavoured kissed with her and, if she were up to it, paint her beautiful body with the whipped cream and pay worship to her with his mouth.
Four year-old preserved oatmeal and stale coffee was hardly the romantic breakfast-in-bed he’d hoped to surprise her with. He had to settle for much less; then again, they all had to settle for much less these days. It was becoming instinctual.
“It’s perfect Bill,” she told him abruptly. She could sense exactly where his mind had taken him. “Did you know that I used to eat oatmeal everyday for breakfast on Caprica?”
She moved to stand between him and the items on the table. Wordlessly, they began to work together to un-package the oatmeal and pour a serving of boiled water into each bowl. Laura stirred the mush while Bill’s hands rested contently on her hips, his lips at the base of her neck.
“I used to eat it every morning after I went for a run by the lake. The scenery was so beautiful; I used to stop halfway on my run each day just so I could admire the view for a bit. I’d come home and fix myself some oatmeal and tea then get ready for my day. It was a comforting routine, something that made me feel grounded,” she mused.
Bill grumbled against her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine.
“Hmm?” she prompted.
He sighed. “I said that I wish I had more to offer you.”
She turned in his arms once again to seek out the beautiful blue of his eyes. “Oh Bill, you’ve given me everything that I could ever ask for, everything that I could ever need,” she affirmed. “I feel so much more than grounded with you, I feel free, alive, uninhibited; I love the way that you make me feel.”
He smiled into her frenzied kisses. For a moment, they both held onto each other, neither one was willing just yet to let go of the other.
Over her shoulder, he could see the steam above the bowls of their meal lessening. “That’s going to get cold,” he chuckled, gesturing to their mundane meal. He at least wanted to share a hot meal with her.
She smiled impishly at him. “Then you ought to bring this back to bed so that we can enjoy your efforts at once. That’s an order soldier,” she sassed.
“Yes M’am,” he said playfully as he gathered the bowls and placed them on the tray along with their coffee. “Today’s a good day,” he said as he followed her retreating figure back to the rumpled sheets of their now shared bed.
As Laura divested herself of her borrowed sweater she threw a smoldering look over her bare shoulder.
“And it’s only just begun,” she promised.