BSG Fic
Title: Salvaged
Author: snoopy0917
Beta: the lovely deepforestowl
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Rating: light M
Spoilers: through Revalations
Summary: "You're plotting something..."
A/N: This was written for the fifth makelaurahappy challenge. Our task? Make Laura Happy...on Earth.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Translation: I own nothing. Merely a laptop, battered 5-star notebook, and a fine point BIC pen. And this little story. The universe? SO not mine...
Only weeks in and Earth had become a salvage mission. The planet was frakked. The scientists they had left were trying to figure out how frakked. At least, the ones not busy playing messiah. Some of the land, some corner, some inlet, some oasis on the planet still might prove habitable. Prove salvageable.
In the interim, the people of Earth may have nuked their cities to rubble and finished the job with a cocktail of biological weapons, but they’d left behind their stuff. Decrepit and decaying in some cases, but Galactica’s salvage teams had started exhuming a myriad of still useful supplies. Parts, tools, clothes, even toys. Things they could recycle back into the Fleet. Peace offerings, memorials to a dead civilization, slivers of hope, call them what you will, they were useful.
Laura stepped off the raptor into the village of tents and debris doubling as the planet’s command center. Each canvass building rescued from a tomblike military facility, foreign characters adorning its side, drab efficiency unmistakably military in any language. She brushed away imaginary dust from her borrowed jacket, tried to brush away the grimness that assaulted her every time she visited the grey-bleak surface. It clung to her skin with a filmy weight. Seeped through her clothes, through her pores, hanging heavy on her flesh even after she returned home.
She hated the gods-damned planet. The thick grit in the air, beneath her feet choked her. She could tell it had once been beautiful. She hated its people, her lost brethren. Hated that the thirteenth tribe had proven just as flawed as the twelve.
Bill appeared at her side almost instantly, falling into step beside her. Tall and proud, he was standing a little straighter, shoulders a fraction lighter than they’d been since finding the frakking place. His eyes held that special glint, the one they always held now in her presence, the one he no longer had to hide.
He took her hand, casually and intimately, solicitously running his thumb over her skin as he guided her through the camp. Cottle didn’t let her down here often. He’d rather not let her down here at all. So when he did, Bill had a tendency to hover. Usually it pissed her off. But he had a look about him today. A twinkle in his eye. A swagger in his step. A spark of mischievously boyish charm.
“You’re plotting something,” Laura accused warily, taking his arm as he led her through piles of scrap metal towards the tent that housed her meeting. Foreign. Salvaged. Most of their tents were still back on New Caprica, probably wind-whipped across the unforgiving surface of that rock. It was a paradise in comparison to this.
“I have a surprise for you,” Bill grumbled confidently, nodding at crewmen and civilians as they navigated the tents. People still stared, still unused to the easy affection between their leaders. By the casual intimacy their linked arms and clasped hands announced unashamedly. By the love glowing in their eyes. She was unaccustomed to public displays. Her stomach swirled with a giddy thrill each time.
“Better than this morning’s surprise?” She teased him in a raspy tone, meant only for his ears. “I liked that one.”
Laura watched as his skin colored, flush crawling out of his collar. His eyes glassed over as he remembered waking her up with the sound of her own cries as he buried his head between her thighs and buried his tongue inside her. Her body stirred with remembered sensation.
Bill spotted the curl of her mouth, satisfied smirk snapping him out of his reverie.
“You’ll like this one too, Roslin.”
“What is it?” She demanded, tickling his palm with wicked fingertips, tracing her name into his skin.
“A surprise,” He insisted. Stopping at the front of the tent, he stole a quick kiss and propelled her towards the briefing waiting inside. “Later.”
Laura tried her best to focus on the reports and data. But it was all still so bleak, so heartbreaking, so unsalvageable. They had all worked so hard. Sacrificed so much. Should they stay on the planet, despite the constant bad news, despite it being a barely habitable wasteland? Should they go back to New Caprica, filled with its bad memories and battered tents? Should they roll the dice and keep moving? Keep looking, hoping that they’d find a new home somewhere in the universe? Could they do that and stay sane?
She wished Bill were with her. He’d been secretive all morning. Since she’d finally crawled out of bed, reluctantly dragging herself from his eager hands and gotten into the shower. Since he’d slid into the cramped stall behind her, busy fingers undeterred. Long before he was called down to the planet, thick hair still damp from the shower and mussed from her fingers. He’d left her with an apology, a warm squeeze of her hip, and a promise for later. His eyes had lingered on her as he left, much as hers had on him. Only hours apart and she missed him.
He snuck into the tent, sliding into the empty seat beside her. The meeting continued undisturbed by his sudden appearance. That made one of them. She could feel her body instinctively warming to his presence, even as her mind refocused on minute details and unpleasant realities.
Bill was surprisingly stealthy for a man of his age and size. His knee pressed against hers under the table. His hand rested next to hers atop the smooth wood, almost but not quite touching, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. One finger was more daring than the rest, darting out at odd intervals to skim the outline of her knuckles. He’d missed her too.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Laura found herself more hopeful that she’d been in weeks. The supply situation had improved exponentially now that the search teams had learned where to look. They might salvage a future out of this nightmare yet.
Plus, Bill was planning something.
“I want my surprise,” She demanded the moment the last of their people exited the tent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her guards exchange a look and hastily position themselves outside the tent flap. The giggle ruined her stern demeanor.
“Do you now?” Bill smirked, clasping his hands and sliding into that confident military stance he preferred.
She narrowed her eyes. He acquiesced. Moving across the room, Bill produced a dark, foil-wrapped package that promptly disappeared behind his back.
Laura pushed herself up to sit on the table. Planting her hands on the smooth wood, she leaned back, leisurely crossing her legs and doing her best to appear Presidential in borrowed military camouflage.
“This week’s salvage missions found something else you might like.” Bill lured her in with casual words. Calculating his steps, he stopped. A bare breath of air separated her knees and his thighs. A small smile worked his way across his lips. He enjoyed having the upper hand.
Opening her legs, she pulled Bill closer, wrapping her calves around his thighs. Her lips snagged his as her fingers slip up his hard chest, over his muscled shoulders, down his strong arms, tracing seductive patterns she knew he enjoyed, edging closer and closer to her prize. Her fingers brushed the foil. It crinkled audibly at her touch.
Bill stepped just out of reach.
Laura groaned in frustration. Bill chuckled, leaning forward to kiss the frown from her mouth, taking care to hide the package from her questing hands.
“What’s behind your back, Bill?” Laura insisted, undeterred by his kisses. She tried peering around his solid frame, wondering what he would have kept from her. Kept for her.
“My people ran every test they could think of. It’s safe. Cottle checked it out too. Can’t vouch for taste though. They tell me that varies from package to…”
“Taste?” The word hung heavy in the air between them, vibrated through Laura’s skin. Food. Bill had food behind his back. Food from this irradiated rock that was safe for them to eat. Food that was not algae. Food that he hadn’t tried yet. Food that he’d saved for her.
Bill grinned wider, brilliant, toothy smile lighting up his face. Puffed out his chest with ego and victory. She’d allow it. Bill had food. He’d done good.
“Gimme.”
A full-out laugh and he surrendered the package to her eager hands. She cradled it nervously, lovingly, almost too excited to process its contents.
“Hostess…” Her brain sounded out the lettering automatically, mouth dry and eyes watering as she recognized her present. “Chocolate cupcakes.”
“With cream filling,” Bill added, lifting the package from her useless grasp and opening it reverently. He coaxed the little plastic tray free from the wrapper and offered it to her.
“Bill…” She shook her head at the tremble in her voice. At the incredulous disbelief she couldn’t shake. “How can these still be good? They were made eons ago.”
Bill shrugged. “They said something about preservatives or chemicals. I stopped listening after edible. But you really want to argue this one?”
No, she really didn’t.
Nervous fingers reached forward, liberating a spongy cake from the tray. Bill slid the plastic back into the sleeve, placing it on the other side of the table, safe from harm. His hands rested lightly on her legs as he watched her, thumbs drawing circles on her thighs.
She’d missed so many things since they’d left the Colonies. So many things she’d taken for granted. So many comforts she thought she’d never have again. Soft sheets, real toiletries, new clothes, new books, real food…
The cake was dark, rich-looking, so brown it looked almost black against her fair skin. Fluffy chocolate coated with a thin layer of icing made of more chocolate. A stark line of artificially white squiggles bisecting it, adding a final touch to the treat. A bright reminder of the promised cream filling.
Her breathing caught in her throat. Her eyes closed. She could feel the weight of Bill’s gaze, expectant and proud as she lifted her surprise to her mouth.
It was stale and foreign tasting. Resembling something that had come from a lab, not an oven. The ingredients and formulation not quite right, not quite familiar.
It was the most incredible thing she’d ever eaten.
The taste exploded on her tongue, long neglected taste buds screaming in ecstasy as her mouth filled with the chocolate confection. Real food. Real enough. Sweet and moist and rich and good. Her back arched, toes curling within borrowed boots. The groan ripped from her throat as she swallowed. She didn’t want to swallow. She’d never tasted anything so delicious.
Her eyes blinked open. Bill stood in front of her. Between her legs. Hands on her thighs. Eyes colored with love. Pants tightening with lust at her reactions.
Her tongue slid across her lips, capturing every straggling crumb. His mouth opened slightly at the sight. At her movements. She looked sensual, she knew. She felt sensual. She was alive with long forgotten sensation. It was bliss.
“You brought me chocolate.”
“With cream filling.”
His finger swiped a dollop of cream from the exposed center of her cupcake and painted it across her lips.
His other hand slid around to the curve of her ass. He pulled her into his arms, sliding her to the very edge of the table, encouraging her legs to wrap around him. His mouth closed over her lips, sampling the treat for the first time.
She quickly revised her earlier assessment. Cupcake-flavored Bill was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
Her arms wound around his shoulders as the kiss deepened. She began to lose herself to the still-new sensation. The intoxicating feel of Bill’s mouth on hers, tongues dueling, tasting, swirling with heady languor. She never wanted to stop kissing him.
Not until she remembered the cupcake still clutched in her hand. At least, it had been a cupcake. Now it was more a smushed mash of cake and sugary filling. Luckily she hadn’t gotten it in his hair. Much.
Laura pulled back, looking down at the spongy mess coating her palm, wondering how to eat the rest with some semblance of dignity.
“This is your fault,” She informed Bill.
He shrugged, accepting responsibility with distracted aplomb. He’d be far less agreeable once he felt the chocolate in his hair.
He plucked one of the larger bits of cake from her hand and dropped it into her mouth. The sugary taste was just as intense the second time around. So overwhelming that she almost missed him stealing a sizeable chunk of her treat for himself.
“There are more of these, right?
“Yep,” Bill answered, feeding her bits of cupcake until she was left with a sticky hand that Bill’s mouth was more than happy to clean.
Laura groaned as his lips suckled the last bit of icing from her skin, his teeth nipped her fingers, his tongue slid along each digit, finding the places in between, seeking out every last bit of flavor before attacking her mouth with the same mission.
She lay back on the table, pulling him atop her, pushing away his clothes, exploring him, still-sticky hand and all.
Earth might not be salvageable. But it was growing on her.
Author: snoopy0917
Beta: the lovely deepforestowl
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Rating: light M
Spoilers: through Revalations
Summary: "You're plotting something..."
A/N: This was written for the fifth makelaurahappy challenge. Our task? Make Laura Happy...on Earth.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Translation: I own nothing. Merely a laptop, battered 5-star notebook, and a fine point BIC pen. And this little story. The universe? SO not mine...
Only weeks in and Earth had become a salvage mission. The planet was frakked. The scientists they had left were trying to figure out how frakked. At least, the ones not busy playing messiah. Some of the land, some corner, some inlet, some oasis on the planet still might prove habitable. Prove salvageable.
In the interim, the people of Earth may have nuked their cities to rubble and finished the job with a cocktail of biological weapons, but they’d left behind their stuff. Decrepit and decaying in some cases, but Galactica’s salvage teams had started exhuming a myriad of still useful supplies. Parts, tools, clothes, even toys. Things they could recycle back into the Fleet. Peace offerings, memorials to a dead civilization, slivers of hope, call them what you will, they were useful.
Laura stepped off the raptor into the village of tents and debris doubling as the planet’s command center. Each canvass building rescued from a tomblike military facility, foreign characters adorning its side, drab efficiency unmistakably military in any language. She brushed away imaginary dust from her borrowed jacket, tried to brush away the grimness that assaulted her every time she visited the grey-bleak surface. It clung to her skin with a filmy weight. Seeped through her clothes, through her pores, hanging heavy on her flesh even after she returned home.
She hated the gods-damned planet. The thick grit in the air, beneath her feet choked her. She could tell it had once been beautiful. She hated its people, her lost brethren. Hated that the thirteenth tribe had proven just as flawed as the twelve.
Bill appeared at her side almost instantly, falling into step beside her. Tall and proud, he was standing a little straighter, shoulders a fraction lighter than they’d been since finding the frakking place. His eyes held that special glint, the one they always held now in her presence, the one he no longer had to hide.
He took her hand, casually and intimately, solicitously running his thumb over her skin as he guided her through the camp. Cottle didn’t let her down here often. He’d rather not let her down here at all. So when he did, Bill had a tendency to hover. Usually it pissed her off. But he had a look about him today. A twinkle in his eye. A swagger in his step. A spark of mischievously boyish charm.
“You’re plotting something,” Laura accused warily, taking his arm as he led her through piles of scrap metal towards the tent that housed her meeting. Foreign. Salvaged. Most of their tents were still back on New Caprica, probably wind-whipped across the unforgiving surface of that rock. It was a paradise in comparison to this.
“I have a surprise for you,” Bill grumbled confidently, nodding at crewmen and civilians as they navigated the tents. People still stared, still unused to the easy affection between their leaders. By the casual intimacy their linked arms and clasped hands announced unashamedly. By the love glowing in their eyes. She was unaccustomed to public displays. Her stomach swirled with a giddy thrill each time.
“Better than this morning’s surprise?” She teased him in a raspy tone, meant only for his ears. “I liked that one.”
Laura watched as his skin colored, flush crawling out of his collar. His eyes glassed over as he remembered waking her up with the sound of her own cries as he buried his head between her thighs and buried his tongue inside her. Her body stirred with remembered sensation.
Bill spotted the curl of her mouth, satisfied smirk snapping him out of his reverie.
“You’ll like this one too, Roslin.”
“What is it?” She demanded, tickling his palm with wicked fingertips, tracing her name into his skin.
“A surprise,” He insisted. Stopping at the front of the tent, he stole a quick kiss and propelled her towards the briefing waiting inside. “Later.”
Laura tried her best to focus on the reports and data. But it was all still so bleak, so heartbreaking, so unsalvageable. They had all worked so hard. Sacrificed so much. Should they stay on the planet, despite the constant bad news, despite it being a barely habitable wasteland? Should they go back to New Caprica, filled with its bad memories and battered tents? Should they roll the dice and keep moving? Keep looking, hoping that they’d find a new home somewhere in the universe? Could they do that and stay sane?
She wished Bill were with her. He’d been secretive all morning. Since she’d finally crawled out of bed, reluctantly dragging herself from his eager hands and gotten into the shower. Since he’d slid into the cramped stall behind her, busy fingers undeterred. Long before he was called down to the planet, thick hair still damp from the shower and mussed from her fingers. He’d left her with an apology, a warm squeeze of her hip, and a promise for later. His eyes had lingered on her as he left, much as hers had on him. Only hours apart and she missed him.
He snuck into the tent, sliding into the empty seat beside her. The meeting continued undisturbed by his sudden appearance. That made one of them. She could feel her body instinctively warming to his presence, even as her mind refocused on minute details and unpleasant realities.
Bill was surprisingly stealthy for a man of his age and size. His knee pressed against hers under the table. His hand rested next to hers atop the smooth wood, almost but not quite touching, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. One finger was more daring than the rest, darting out at odd intervals to skim the outline of her knuckles. He’d missed her too.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Laura found herself more hopeful that she’d been in weeks. The supply situation had improved exponentially now that the search teams had learned where to look. They might salvage a future out of this nightmare yet.
Plus, Bill was planning something.
“I want my surprise,” She demanded the moment the last of their people exited the tent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her guards exchange a look and hastily position themselves outside the tent flap. The giggle ruined her stern demeanor.
“Do you now?” Bill smirked, clasping his hands and sliding into that confident military stance he preferred.
She narrowed her eyes. He acquiesced. Moving across the room, Bill produced a dark, foil-wrapped package that promptly disappeared behind his back.
Laura pushed herself up to sit on the table. Planting her hands on the smooth wood, she leaned back, leisurely crossing her legs and doing her best to appear Presidential in borrowed military camouflage.
“This week’s salvage missions found something else you might like.” Bill lured her in with casual words. Calculating his steps, he stopped. A bare breath of air separated her knees and his thighs. A small smile worked his way across his lips. He enjoyed having the upper hand.
Opening her legs, she pulled Bill closer, wrapping her calves around his thighs. Her lips snagged his as her fingers slip up his hard chest, over his muscled shoulders, down his strong arms, tracing seductive patterns she knew he enjoyed, edging closer and closer to her prize. Her fingers brushed the foil. It crinkled audibly at her touch.
Bill stepped just out of reach.
Laura groaned in frustration. Bill chuckled, leaning forward to kiss the frown from her mouth, taking care to hide the package from her questing hands.
“What’s behind your back, Bill?” Laura insisted, undeterred by his kisses. She tried peering around his solid frame, wondering what he would have kept from her. Kept for her.
“My people ran every test they could think of. It’s safe. Cottle checked it out too. Can’t vouch for taste though. They tell me that varies from package to…”
“Taste?” The word hung heavy in the air between them, vibrated through Laura’s skin. Food. Bill had food behind his back. Food from this irradiated rock that was safe for them to eat. Food that was not algae. Food that he hadn’t tried yet. Food that he’d saved for her.
Bill grinned wider, brilliant, toothy smile lighting up his face. Puffed out his chest with ego and victory. She’d allow it. Bill had food. He’d done good.
“Gimme.”
A full-out laugh and he surrendered the package to her eager hands. She cradled it nervously, lovingly, almost too excited to process its contents.
“Hostess…” Her brain sounded out the lettering automatically, mouth dry and eyes watering as she recognized her present. “Chocolate cupcakes.”
“With cream filling,” Bill added, lifting the package from her useless grasp and opening it reverently. He coaxed the little plastic tray free from the wrapper and offered it to her.
“Bill…” She shook her head at the tremble in her voice. At the incredulous disbelief she couldn’t shake. “How can these still be good? They were made eons ago.”
Bill shrugged. “They said something about preservatives or chemicals. I stopped listening after edible. But you really want to argue this one?”
No, she really didn’t.
Nervous fingers reached forward, liberating a spongy cake from the tray. Bill slid the plastic back into the sleeve, placing it on the other side of the table, safe from harm. His hands rested lightly on her legs as he watched her, thumbs drawing circles on her thighs.
She’d missed so many things since they’d left the Colonies. So many things she’d taken for granted. So many comforts she thought she’d never have again. Soft sheets, real toiletries, new clothes, new books, real food…
The cake was dark, rich-looking, so brown it looked almost black against her fair skin. Fluffy chocolate coated with a thin layer of icing made of more chocolate. A stark line of artificially white squiggles bisecting it, adding a final touch to the treat. A bright reminder of the promised cream filling.
Her breathing caught in her throat. Her eyes closed. She could feel the weight of Bill’s gaze, expectant and proud as she lifted her surprise to her mouth.
It was stale and foreign tasting. Resembling something that had come from a lab, not an oven. The ingredients and formulation not quite right, not quite familiar.
It was the most incredible thing she’d ever eaten.
The taste exploded on her tongue, long neglected taste buds screaming in ecstasy as her mouth filled with the chocolate confection. Real food. Real enough. Sweet and moist and rich and good. Her back arched, toes curling within borrowed boots. The groan ripped from her throat as she swallowed. She didn’t want to swallow. She’d never tasted anything so delicious.
Her eyes blinked open. Bill stood in front of her. Between her legs. Hands on her thighs. Eyes colored with love. Pants tightening with lust at her reactions.
Her tongue slid across her lips, capturing every straggling crumb. His mouth opened slightly at the sight. At her movements. She looked sensual, she knew. She felt sensual. She was alive with long forgotten sensation. It was bliss.
“You brought me chocolate.”
“With cream filling.”
His finger swiped a dollop of cream from the exposed center of her cupcake and painted it across her lips.
His other hand slid around to the curve of her ass. He pulled her into his arms, sliding her to the very edge of the table, encouraging her legs to wrap around him. His mouth closed over her lips, sampling the treat for the first time.
She quickly revised her earlier assessment. Cupcake-flavored Bill was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
Her arms wound around his shoulders as the kiss deepened. She began to lose herself to the still-new sensation. The intoxicating feel of Bill’s mouth on hers, tongues dueling, tasting, swirling with heady languor. She never wanted to stop kissing him.
Not until she remembered the cupcake still clutched in her hand. At least, it had been a cupcake. Now it was more a smushed mash of cake and sugary filling. Luckily she hadn’t gotten it in his hair. Much.
Laura pulled back, looking down at the spongy mess coating her palm, wondering how to eat the rest with some semblance of dignity.
“This is your fault,” She informed Bill.
He shrugged, accepting responsibility with distracted aplomb. He’d be far less agreeable once he felt the chocolate in his hair.
He plucked one of the larger bits of cake from her hand and dropped it into her mouth. The sugary taste was just as intense the second time around. So overwhelming that she almost missed him stealing a sizeable chunk of her treat for himself.
“There are more of these, right?
“Yep,” Bill answered, feeding her bits of cupcake until she was left with a sticky hand that Bill’s mouth was more than happy to clean.
Laura groaned as his lips suckled the last bit of icing from her skin, his teeth nipped her fingers, his tongue slid along each digit, finding the places in between, seeking out every last bit of flavor before attacking her mouth with the same mission.
She lay back on the table, pulling him atop her, pushing away his clothes, exploring him, still-sticky hand and all.
Earth might not be salvageable. But it was growing on her.