Fic: All Other Assigned Duties
Title: All Other Assigned Duties
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~1600
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters: Laura, Billy, OCs
Summary: A slight ironing mishap leads to shared tips and stories...
A/N: Written for the lovely singerdiva01_sk for her birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta and the varied prompts that helped bring this together. *hugs*
“Oh, frak!”
Laura’s head darted up from the latest fuel report. “Billy?”
No answer, which was even stranger than his sudden pilot’s mouth. She strode toward his quarters and pushed the curtain aside slightly. “Billy?”
“Sorry, Madame President. I’m...oh, frak. Sorry.”
She peeked inside. He was dressed and didn’t seem to be in physical distress. She slammed the curtain open and stepped into the room. “What is it?”
Then she saw he was leaning over an ironing board, losing a fight - and a perfectly innocent shirt - to the iron in his hand. “I never learned how. How pathetic is that?” he said.
She laughed, which probably wasn’t helping his feelings on the matter. But she couldn’t help it. To her surprise - and delight - he joined in.
She laid her hand on his back. She would have gone for his shoulder if she could have reached it. “Of all the problems to have, this one’s not so bad.”
He set down the iron so it could do no further harm and faced her.
“I bet you never thought you’d be doing this when you accepted the position,” she said.
“No, ma’am.”
“This must fall under the category of ‘all other assigned duties’.”
He smiled.
He had taken on so many of those ‘other’ duties since the attacks, most of which they’d never discussed and she’d never assigned. He had just done them. No questions asked.
Her green shirt lying flat on the ironing board was further evidence of his devotion to his job.
“I ruined your shirt. And you have so few of them.” He shook his head in disgust.
She patted his back. “Let me see.”
It was scorched but by no means beyond repair.
“How bad is it?”
She smiled. “I’m gonna teach you what I learned my first semester in college.”
“What?”
“When I left home for school I had to learn to do laundry. Now, I had always washed, dried, and folded my clothes, but I had never ironed. That had been my mother’s job.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “And if it were up to me, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”
“I understand that.”
“So, for a long time I didn’t iron. I simply fluffed everything in the dryer. But one morning I had a job interview, and I knew I needed to iron to look my best.
“My mother had always made it look so easy. So I got out my ironing board and gave it a shot. I won’t bore you with the details, but my shirt looked much worse than this by the time I had finished.”
He snorted in disbelief. “What did you do?”
“I called my mom in tears, and she talked me through it.” She smiled wistfully. “Get me a brush, and I’ll share her secret.”
He darted off into their shared head and ran back with her hair brush. “Will this work?”
She nodded as he handed it to her, and she brushed the scorch marks off the worst area. “See? It’s not so bad. Now you try.”
He grabbed the brush and continued brushing off the burned fibers.
“We’ll need to have it washed again, I’m afraid, but otherwise, it should be good as new.”
He pulled the shirt off the board and placed it in the makeshift hamper at the foot of his cot. She exited his quarters, and he followed her back to the main office.
“So did you get that job?”
She nodded. “I did.” She snorted. “I hated it, though, and quit a few months later.”
“Can’t imagine you quitting anything.”
She laughed. “My stubborn longevity came with age.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He became thoughtful. “This is my first job, you know.”
“I do.”
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of quitting.”
She quirked her eyebrow. “As if I would let you go.”
They both laughed.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
This was his first job and would probably be his last - unless he actually did become President one day, as Adama had told him President Roslin had suggested. In the meantime, he would be perfectly content as Chief of Staff.
Of course, much like his boss, he’d had no idea how quickly he would be promoted when he’d accepted the position as Secretary Roslin’s personal aide. He’d been an ordinary Caprica University political science major and debate team champion when his faculty advisor notified him of the open positions in the government office and encouraged him to apply.
He’d walked to the government building after school and had been surprised when a personal assistant ushered him inside for an interview. He’d blushed slightly and explained he wasn’t dressed for an interview, as if that fact had required any mention. The woman had simply smiled and said he’d looked fine.
Then he’d found himself in a room with a slightly older man.
“Come on in. Have a seat.”
Billy complied.
The man shook his hand. “I’m John Brown. Personal aide to Secretary Roslin.” He smiled. “It’s a great job, and she’s an amazing boss. Taught me everything I know. But now, she’s ‘pushing me out of the nest,’ as she says. And I’m looking for my replacement.”
Billy nodded. “What are you going to do next, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Secretary of Defense needs an aide. That’s a good place for me now.”
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you. Now, tell me about yourself. What brought you here today?”
Billy took a breath. He gave his name and what his advisor had said, a brief explanation of his coursework.
John nodded. Then he handed Billy a file. “This is the application. If you’ll fill this out and give it to Donna on your way out, we’ll get back to you shortly.”
Billy had completed the application and left the office, unsure what the initial interview had meant. When he hadn’t heard from Mr. Brown for several days, he’d concluded he hadn’t gotten the job. So when Donna had called him a few weeks later, he’d been shocked.
The second interview with Mr. Brown had been much more grueling, but at the end, he’d shaken Billy’s hand and welcomed him to the team.
“Your first day should be fun, too. Secretary Roslin is scheduled to speak at the decommissioning ceremony of an antique battlestar, Galactica, tomorrow.” He handed Billy a file. “This is a copy of her speech, her itinerary, and everything else you need to know. Take it home, study it, and report back here tomorrow afternoon.”
Billy had left the office before realizing he hadn’t even asked about salary or work schedule. He’d shaken his head and decided to discuss those items with Secretary Roslin.
Of course, he never had talked about those mundane concepts. He’d become her de facto Chief of Staff and learned that like his boss’s job, his was a 24-hour responsibility. Mr. Brown had been right, though: Laura Roslin was an amazing boss, and she’d taught him everything he knew.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
“What are you thinking?” She asked.
Billy grinned. “Just remembering how I got this job.”
She nodded. “I’m very grateful to your faculty advisor.”
His eyes widened. “You knew?”
“Of course. You don’t think I’d allow someone to work for me without my express approval, do you?”
He chuckled. “When you say it like that…”
The receptionist, Donna, had been told to notify Laura’s office if anyone arrived asking about the open position. Laura had been assigning John his duties for his final weeks as her assistant when the phone had rung. She and John had exchanged looks as though they’d been playing a game of chicken. Then she’d rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, after she’d informed him it was only because they had been in her office.
“That was Donna. She says she has a ‘live one’ for us.”
He chuckled. “I’ll report back soon.”
When John had returned with Billy’s application, he’d said he had a good feeling. Laura had peeked through it, but then the teachers’ strike had exploded, and that had taken over their focus for a few weeks.
When the strike had calmed down enough for her to go home at a decent hour one night, she’d read the application. The next day she’d told John to bring Billy onboard. It had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
“So, when John hired me--”
“It was really me, yes.”
He shook his head, but she could see he was amused. Then he met her eyes. “What made you decide?”
She smiled. “Your honesty. And I trusted John’s judgement - just like I trust yours. He vouched for you. Said he saw the potential.” A beat. “And your performance at Caprica University was very impressive.”
“But you said--”
“I said a lot of things. I’m not always right, believe it or not.” She smirked at his hesitant yet firm nod. “I needed you to prove yourself to me quickly. And you did.” She reached across the desk and placed her hand on his arm. “And you’ve exceeded all my expectations.”
“I’ve hardly thought of school or the debate team or...home since the attacks. It’s like that life doesn’t even exist anymore.”
“Don’t say that. You need it to continue. I need it. This life will only be temporary, if my visions prove accurate. And then we’ll need the best of ourselves, of our old lives, to rebuild on Earth.”
He nodded. “Then I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~1600
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters: Laura, Billy, OCs
Summary: A slight ironing mishap leads to shared tips and stories...
A/N: Written for the lovely singerdiva01_sk for her birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta and the varied prompts that helped bring this together. *hugs*
“Oh, frak!”
Laura’s head darted up from the latest fuel report. “Billy?”
No answer, which was even stranger than his sudden pilot’s mouth. She strode toward his quarters and pushed the curtain aside slightly. “Billy?”
“Sorry, Madame President. I’m...oh, frak. Sorry.”
She peeked inside. He was dressed and didn’t seem to be in physical distress. She slammed the curtain open and stepped into the room. “What is it?”
Then she saw he was leaning over an ironing board, losing a fight - and a perfectly innocent shirt - to the iron in his hand. “I never learned how. How pathetic is that?” he said.
She laughed, which probably wasn’t helping his feelings on the matter. But she couldn’t help it. To her surprise - and delight - he joined in.
She laid her hand on his back. She would have gone for his shoulder if she could have reached it. “Of all the problems to have, this one’s not so bad.”
He set down the iron so it could do no further harm and faced her.
“I bet you never thought you’d be doing this when you accepted the position,” she said.
“No, ma’am.”
“This must fall under the category of ‘all other assigned duties’.”
He smiled.
He had taken on so many of those ‘other’ duties since the attacks, most of which they’d never discussed and she’d never assigned. He had just done them. No questions asked.
Her green shirt lying flat on the ironing board was further evidence of his devotion to his job.
“I ruined your shirt. And you have so few of them.” He shook his head in disgust.
She patted his back. “Let me see.”
It was scorched but by no means beyond repair.
“How bad is it?”
She smiled. “I’m gonna teach you what I learned my first semester in college.”
“What?”
“When I left home for school I had to learn to do laundry. Now, I had always washed, dried, and folded my clothes, but I had never ironed. That had been my mother’s job.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “And if it were up to me, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”
“I understand that.”
“So, for a long time I didn’t iron. I simply fluffed everything in the dryer. But one morning I had a job interview, and I knew I needed to iron to look my best.
“My mother had always made it look so easy. So I got out my ironing board and gave it a shot. I won’t bore you with the details, but my shirt looked much worse than this by the time I had finished.”
He snorted in disbelief. “What did you do?”
“I called my mom in tears, and she talked me through it.” She smiled wistfully. “Get me a brush, and I’ll share her secret.”
He darted off into their shared head and ran back with her hair brush. “Will this work?”
She nodded as he handed it to her, and she brushed the scorch marks off the worst area. “See? It’s not so bad. Now you try.”
He grabbed the brush and continued brushing off the burned fibers.
“We’ll need to have it washed again, I’m afraid, but otherwise, it should be good as new.”
He pulled the shirt off the board and placed it in the makeshift hamper at the foot of his cot. She exited his quarters, and he followed her back to the main office.
“So did you get that job?”
She nodded. “I did.” She snorted. “I hated it, though, and quit a few months later.”
“Can’t imagine you quitting anything.”
She laughed. “My stubborn longevity came with age.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He became thoughtful. “This is my first job, you know.”
“I do.”
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of quitting.”
She quirked her eyebrow. “As if I would let you go.”
They both laughed.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
This was his first job and would probably be his last - unless he actually did become President one day, as Adama had told him President Roslin had suggested. In the meantime, he would be perfectly content as Chief of Staff.
Of course, much like his boss, he’d had no idea how quickly he would be promoted when he’d accepted the position as Secretary Roslin’s personal aide. He’d been an ordinary Caprica University political science major and debate team champion when his faculty advisor notified him of the open positions in the government office and encouraged him to apply.
He’d walked to the government building after school and had been surprised when a personal assistant ushered him inside for an interview. He’d blushed slightly and explained he wasn’t dressed for an interview, as if that fact had required any mention. The woman had simply smiled and said he’d looked fine.
Then he’d found himself in a room with a slightly older man.
“Come on in. Have a seat.”
Billy complied.
The man shook his hand. “I’m John Brown. Personal aide to Secretary Roslin.” He smiled. “It’s a great job, and she’s an amazing boss. Taught me everything I know. But now, she’s ‘pushing me out of the nest,’ as she says. And I’m looking for my replacement.”
Billy nodded. “What are you going to do next, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Secretary of Defense needs an aide. That’s a good place for me now.”
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you. Now, tell me about yourself. What brought you here today?”
Billy took a breath. He gave his name and what his advisor had said, a brief explanation of his coursework.
John nodded. Then he handed Billy a file. “This is the application. If you’ll fill this out and give it to Donna on your way out, we’ll get back to you shortly.”
Billy had completed the application and left the office, unsure what the initial interview had meant. When he hadn’t heard from Mr. Brown for several days, he’d concluded he hadn’t gotten the job. So when Donna had called him a few weeks later, he’d been shocked.
The second interview with Mr. Brown had been much more grueling, but at the end, he’d shaken Billy’s hand and welcomed him to the team.
“Your first day should be fun, too. Secretary Roslin is scheduled to speak at the decommissioning ceremony of an antique battlestar, Galactica, tomorrow.” He handed Billy a file. “This is a copy of her speech, her itinerary, and everything else you need to know. Take it home, study it, and report back here tomorrow afternoon.”
Billy had left the office before realizing he hadn’t even asked about salary or work schedule. He’d shaken his head and decided to discuss those items with Secretary Roslin.
Of course, he never had talked about those mundane concepts. He’d become her de facto Chief of Staff and learned that like his boss’s job, his was a 24-hour responsibility. Mr. Brown had been right, though: Laura Roslin was an amazing boss, and she’d taught him everything he knew.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
“What are you thinking?” She asked.
Billy grinned. “Just remembering how I got this job.”
She nodded. “I’m very grateful to your faculty advisor.”
His eyes widened. “You knew?”
“Of course. You don’t think I’d allow someone to work for me without my express approval, do you?”
He chuckled. “When you say it like that…”
The receptionist, Donna, had been told to notify Laura’s office if anyone arrived asking about the open position. Laura had been assigning John his duties for his final weeks as her assistant when the phone had rung. She and John had exchanged looks as though they’d been playing a game of chicken. Then she’d rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, after she’d informed him it was only because they had been in her office.
“That was Donna. She says she has a ‘live one’ for us.”
He chuckled. “I’ll report back soon.”
When John had returned with Billy’s application, he’d said he had a good feeling. Laura had peeked through it, but then the teachers’ strike had exploded, and that had taken over their focus for a few weeks.
When the strike had calmed down enough for her to go home at a decent hour one night, she’d read the application. The next day she’d told John to bring Billy onboard. It had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
“So, when John hired me--”
“It was really me, yes.”
He shook his head, but she could see he was amused. Then he met her eyes. “What made you decide?”
She smiled. “Your honesty. And I trusted John’s judgement - just like I trust yours. He vouched for you. Said he saw the potential.” A beat. “And your performance at Caprica University was very impressive.”
“But you said--”
“I said a lot of things. I’m not always right, believe it or not.” She smirked at his hesitant yet firm nod. “I needed you to prove yourself to me quickly. And you did.” She reached across the desk and placed her hand on his arm. “And you’ve exceeded all my expectations.”
“I’ve hardly thought of school or the debate team or...home since the attacks. It’s like that life doesn’t even exist anymore.”
“Don’t say that. You need it to continue. I need it. This life will only be temporary, if my visions prove accurate. And then we’ll need the best of ourselves, of our old lives, to rebuild on Earth.”
He nodded. “Then I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”