Slide 3: Laws of Attraction

Gaius Frakking Baltar needed to be shot out the nearest airlock. Laura Roslin was firmly convinced of the fact and she wanted to be the one to push the button. He was a complete and utter swine.

Forty-eight hours had passed since she’d vacated her private quarters and he’d already turned it into a den of iniquity. She couldn’t possibly remove the images from her memory of the things she’d seen today, not without major surgery involving removal of a good portion of her brain. They weren’t of the room itself — gods knows, she hadn’t the stomach to go through the curtains to see what was going on back there — but of the women she’d seen entering and leaving throughout their meeting, inappropriately clad and disgustingly fawning over the preening peacock. Even Zarek, to his credit, had seemed troubled by the display.

Personally, Laura had felt more like a patron in a so-called gentleman’s club than a participant in a governmental transfer-of-power meeting. As soon as she was behind the door to Bill’s quarters she was going to strip and get in the shower and wash — for about a year — in hopes that that might, just might, make her feel clean again.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t do a damned thing for the worry that had settled in the pit of her belly, the sickness that swamped her when she realized that that man, whom she also believe had conspired with the Cyons in the attack on the Twelve Colonies, was about to be charged with the care of what remained of the human race.

Laura actually choked back a gag at the thought and waved off a concerned look from the marine who offered her a hand as she stepped down off the Raptor and onto Galactica’s flight deck.

“I’m all right, Corporal,” she assured the young man. “I just saw some things today that I wish I hadn’t.”

“Ma’am,” he acknowledged then drew to attention.

Laura looked over to see Bill approaching.

“Admiral,” she greeted, extending her hand.

“Madam President,” he countered, taking her hand. He gave it a polite shake then tucked it into the crook of his arm and invited her to walk with him.

She accepted and he led her through the ship to his quarters. As they walked, he filled her in on the day’s happenings aboard the ship, updated her on the latest surveys of New Caprica, and she, in turn, briefed him on her day, the official part anyway, things he needed to know as commander of the Colonial fleet.

The rest would wait until they were behind closed doors. Not that Baltar’s debauchery was a secret aboard Galactica. The man had lived on board the ship long enough for the crew to either witness or figure it out. Rather, it was for fear she would really start vomiting when she related what she’d seen, and she did not want to do that in the middle of Bill’s ship.

Once they were inside Bill’s quarters, she broke into a diatribe about the president-elect, the urge for a shower so overwhelming that she headed straight for his lavatory. She reached for the buttons of her jacket as she did, quickly undid them and tossed the garment into one of the leather chairs as she neared it. Pausing, she kicked off her shoes, aiming them toward the rack, and yanked her shirttails from her skirt. Her fingers found the buttons on her shirt and unbuttoned them, and she didn’t think a thing about it, not even when Bill said her name. It wasn’t until she turned to see him staring at her in wide-eyed wonder — and amusement — that she realized she was standing there with her shirt half open, leaving little to his imagination.

“Godsdamnit,” she groaned and dropped her hands to her side, not even bothering to cover herself. She wasn’t exactly sure why, other than they were both adults and … well, she didn’t know.

Bill, to his credit, never looked anywhere but her eyes, and his smile gentled considerably when he took in her frustration.

He then offered her a out of the embarrassing moment. “Would you like wine or ambrosia with dinner?”

From anyone else that would have been a cheap pickup line, but from him, it was what it was.

“Ambrosia,” she told him, having a feeling she was going to need it to relax.

He nodded and walked back to the entrance of his quarters and picked up the handset that was there, politely giving her his back as he contacted the galley and ordered dinner.

Gathering herself, Laura went into the lavatory and turned on the water, letting it heat while she doffed the rest of her clothing. She looked at herself in the mirror and noted the flush on her cheeks.

Gods, I all but stripped in front of Bill, she thought then laughed at the absurdity of … everything, her laughter becoming tears as the weight of the last year came crashing down, followed by that of the unknown to come. They filled her gaze, obscuring her reflection. She blinked hard, willing them away, found a measure of success before ducking into the shower.

Laura’s not sure how long she spent under the hot jets, but dinner had already been delivered by the time she finally emerged from the lavatory, wearing her robe and her hair wrapped in a towel.

Bill looked at her in concern and knew he could see the evidence of the tears she hadn’t been able to completely stifle. He didn’t say anything, though, just held her chair out for her then placed a glass of ambrosia next to her plate.

They ate in companionable silence and once dinner was done, Laura picked up her glass and retreated to his couch. She thought it was perhaps the most comfortable piece of furniture in the fleet — not that she’d tried out every one — and she liked it. It was soft and welcoming.

Curling up in a corner with her glass, she stared off into space, her thoughts a jumble of this and that. The past. The future. The fleet. Baltar and Zarek. New Caprica. The children. Educational needs. Resource allocation reports. Herself … and Bill.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Laura smiled gently at him as he sank down beside her, unbuttoning his jacket before leaning back. His hand rested against his chest, holding his half-full glass of ambrosia.

“Thoughts are all a mess,” she confessed. “Not sure where I’d start.”

“Pick one,” he prodded, lifting his glass and taking a swallow.

He was a rock, she decided as she watched him. Solid, enduring. A foundation. Exactly when he had become hers, she did not know, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had.

Reaching out, she ran her fingers through his hair, just above his ear. Predictably, his chin fell to his chest. Not so predictably, he closed his eyes and whispered her name. His reaction stirred her in ways that were probably unwise, but she wasn’t feeling particularly wise at the moment. Just a little lost and a lot attracted to the man beside her.

“Bill,” she breathed softly. Slowly, so slowly, he met her gaze. She saw a storm of emotions in his blue eyes. “Will you kiss me?”

Laura wasn’t sure why she asked a question to which she already knew the answer. Wasn’t sure why she asked at all, but she had, and he responded.

“Yes.” It was one word, but filled with profound emotion.

He set his glass on the chest in front of the couch, did the same with hers then eased closer to her. She trembled as he neared, felt a wild fluttering in her flesh as her body awakened from a long slumber, and smiled at her reaction. He returned the expression as he brought a broad hand up to unwrap the towel from her hair, which fell in a tangle of red curls. His palm cradled her jaw then, his thumb brushing across her cheek as he leaned toward her.

Laura’s eyes fell shut and her heart lifted in her breast at the gentle touch of his lips to her. There was such a sweetness in that first pressing, followed by a heady heat when his mouth slid over hers soft and slow. Thick fingers threaded into her hair, making her moan. And the touch of his tongue, so tentative, tasting of ambrosia and him … sweet gods!

Laura melted, felt like she was falling into him, only to jerk back with a start when the communications unit unexpectedly let out an annoying buzz.

Bill swore harshly but caressed her tenderly before pulling away.

Laura winced when he picked up the handset and barked, “Adama.” She felt almost sorry for the person on the other end of the line. Almost.

After a few moments of listening, Bill began buttoning up his jacket. When he replied with a sharp “I’ll be right there” and hung up the handset, Laura sobered. She got to her feet and walked over to him.

“Cylons?”

Bill shook his head, met her gaze. “I almost wish.”

Laura looked at him in question.

“The Tighs,” he said then sighed and offered his apologies. “This isn’t exactly how I had imagined that kind of kiss with you ending.”

Laura smiled at that confession. “So you’ve thought about it?”

He looked down and away, a smile twitching at one corner of his mouth. “More than is probably decent,” he said under his breath then turned and opened the door, leaving Laura in a fit of the giggles.

< Slide 2: The Disarming of Laura | Slide 4: Courting the Admiral (& Disaster) >