Before he even opened his eyes, Bill could already sense her absence, by missing the feel of her hair tickling his face, and the weight of her body around and on top of his.
In spite of how they usually fell asleep these days, claiming that they were not lovesick teenagers needing to be reassured of their connection by physically maintaining it every second of every day, they still somehow always woke up like this, limbs tangled together, his arms holding her in place. It was a futile effort to begin with anyway. Not that they would admit it.
That in itself wasn't unusual, her waking up before him, his habit of waking up with the sun has long since faded as they settled into the long awaited comforts of a life without responsibility. Well, at least the responsibility of the survival of an entire race resting on their respective shoulders. Life wasn't perfect, but it was finally their own.
He found her in the kitchen, in the process of cleaning up the colossal mess that their dear friends left behind the night before. But that's not what made Bill stop in his tracks and raise his eyebrows, no, it was that she was humming while she did it. If she noticed him watching her she didn't give any indication, but that only lasted until he approached her from behind, hugging her middle and planting a kiss in her hair; no deity could have stopped the smile breaking out on her face then, nor the contented sigh that broke free.
"You're in a good mood," he noted, the corners of his own mouth turning upwards.
"Mhm," was her only answer, as she continued cleaning the counter, but then thought better of it and turned around in his arms, so she could see his face.
"I missed you from the party last night. You disappeared for the longest time, I was worried you fell asleep somewhere in the bushes." (Which of course was an over-exaggeration, they both knew perfectly well that she awoke the second he climbed into bed, turned into his arms the next, so really, that wasn't the point here.)
"You missed me?" She rolled her eyes at that. "You know what I mean." "Yeah, I do."
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I had an amazing time with the kids, (Kara and Lee, one by blood and one by choice, both by marriage) and it was good to hear from everyone, truly," he could tell from her soft tone that she really meant it, "but, it was supposed to be our wedding anniversary, which by the way, you, husband, insisted on that we celebrate."
She wasn't pissed exactly, but intrigued nonetheless, and he sighed, ready to admit defeat. But not before teasing her a bit. That simply could not be helped.
"Actually, wife, it was supposed to be a distraction. You see, I had very important business to attend to," he deadpanned.
"Is that right?," with her hands on her hips she was the spitting image of the Former President, and it more than had the desired effect on the former Admiral of the Fleet.
"Are you going to tell me what it was then?" Her eyes were shining and if she was trying, she did a very poor job of hiding her amusement. They both knew she had no cause for worry, there weren't any more secrets between them, not for a very long time. She would just have to wait and see.
"All in good time, Mrs. Adama," he replied gently, and not being able to resist the temptation anymore, pulled her flush against him by her hips to give her a loving kiss, "all in good time."
#
"Do you know what day it is tomorrow?"
"Wednesday?" Laura answered without looking up from the book that currently held her attention – his book. They were currently in the biggest room in their cabin, on the sofa, Laura's feet in Bill's lap, both relaxing with their respective books in hand after their morning swim (among other activities) in the lake. Or trying to relax, in Bill's case.
"No," he frowned, "well, yes. That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean?" Silence. "Is this a trick question?" The turn of a page.
He waited patiently, until Laura looked up from her book, having reached the end of the paragraph she was reading, and sighed resignedly, putting it away and giving him her full attention. He smiled gratefully and took her hands in both of his, stroking her knuckles.
"Tomorrow marks the 5 year anniversary that you officially became my wife, Laura. Which means that as of right now, in all the time that we've known each other, you have been my wife longer than you have not. I think that's worth celebrating, don't you?"
Laura's eyes immediately softened, the look of curiosity in her eyes turned to tenderness and the slight annoyance she might have felt at being interrupted completely evaporated. This man.
"Certainly it is, Mr. Adama," she extricated one of her hands from his and lifted it to his ragged cheek, stroking the skin there, "what do you suggest?"
"I thought we could have a celebration. Not too big, just the family."
"Bill," the tone of her voice was the vocalization of an eye-roll. "You consider them all your family."
His answer was merely a noncommittal hum and a slight shrug of a shoulder as he leaned back against the sofa, his eyes never leaving her face, and she could've sworn she detected a hint of mischief in his gaze. "What?"
"Do you remember the day I proposed to you?"
"You call that a proposal?" she replied cheekily, then turned into him, suddenly all serious. "Bill, how could I forget?"
The look in his eyes mirrored hers, making it clear that it wasn't really a question in the first place. Neither one of them would ever forget that day, or the days that followed, or the days before. Their history was all they ever had, and to them, it was everything.
#
When he steps outside, he finds her sitting on their brand new porch, overlooking the valley, holding tight onto the blanket he wrapped around her earlier, to protect her from the autumn evening chill. He can't help but admire her in the soft light, as it catches on the ends of her signature auburn hair, her hair, that – to his great delight – she hasn't cut once since it first started growing back last year. They never discussed it, but he's almost certain that she did that as much for him as she did it for herself. He never made a secret out of how much he adored her hair, as well as the rest of her. It was Laura, after all.
She turns her head, sensing his presence as she usually does, and he notes that the angle makes her look almost angelic in the light glow of the afternoon sun. It's almost heavenly, he thinks. Their eyes lock for a long moment and he takes a second to just be grateful for it all – meeting her, surviving with her, and most importantly not losing her – before he starts moving again, towards the single bench where she's already started making room for him. She lifts one corner of the wool blanket, smiling up at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to sit down next to her.
He doesn't, smiling back at her instead as he hands her the mug of her usual afternoon tea, with a "Here you go, Madam President," using the title as a needless distraction to gently take her by the knees and tug her over and into his lap, then cover them back up with the blanket, enveloping her in all the warmth he can offer. He's still doing that a lot, even after all this time. She hopes he never stops.
"Stop calling me that, Bill. I'm not your president." The affection in her tone belies the harshness of the words, not to mention the way she instantly draws nearer to him, seeking out his body with her own, molding them together, even under the warmth of the thick material. Somehow, he doesn't seem to mind.
And as for her statement, Bill thinks to himself, well, maybe he would if only she stopped being so damn presidential. He is wise enough not to say that one out loud, though.
"We both know you'll always be my president, Laura. Always."
That was true enough. Everyone who knew him at all was very well aware of how hard-won Bill's trust was. Probably Laura most of all. They will be the first to admit that their beginning wasn't an easy one, but somehow that only makes them stronger for it in the end. For once they had earned each other's trust, nothing could ever take it away from them. Not even death. Not even if it tried twice.
She would never in a million years find anyone more loyal to her than this man was, and she would have laughed at anyone who ever thought she had any desire to try.
"Well, as long as it's just you, then, I think I'll deal." She burrowed even deeper into him, if that was possible. "But as for the rest of them, nothankyou, I'm quite done, thank the Gods."
Indeed, the days of being the President of the Twelve Colonies were over for her, but, to be fair; so were the Twelve Colonies. They called themselves the settlers of New Earth now, no colonial or racial boundaries between them, the remaining humans and cylons now living side by side, as much in peace as anyone could, after having lived through their share of apocalypses. As cliché as it admittedly sounds, living through the end of the worlds is life-changing, even more so if it keeps repeating itself, just to make a point. Which is what it felt like to them anyway.
These were different times now, they called for new leadership, a change that both Laura and Bill welcomed eagerly. Bill no longer had a ship to command; she had more than done her duty as the Dying Leader – twice over, she always was an overachiever – and though the respect and high regard for the former leaders remained, they were more than ready to leave that part of their lives behind, in favor of their new, shared one.
And for someone who got her life back a second time after having already accepted that it was over, yet again, it was more than understandable that she would want to move past all that – and move past with him by her side – instead of dwell on any aspect of her unpleasant past. Either the cancer or the unwanted presidential duties. In retrospect, she didn't even know which was worse, and she shuddered, even at the mere thought of it.
Sensing her discomfort, he tightened his arms around her, gently rubbing his thumbs along her sides in aimless circles. He didn't need her words to tell him what she was thinking. It was just the way they were.
"Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but the threat of airlocking just doesn't seem to have the same effect down here, somehow. So that kind of settles it for me." She lifted her head from his chest to smile up at him conspirationally, wondering if he would humor her, already knowing that he would. Gods bless him.
What she doesn't expect is that he is right there, his mouth grazing her ear as he whispers, "You really are, quite bloody-minded, Madam Airlock." She shivers, not at the mockery, but as a natural reaction to him; his unique scent, his proximity, and the feel of his stubble as it comes into contact with the tender flesh of her cheek; her constant desire for this man as familiar to her by now as her own breathing, and no less welcome. It's only understandable that she takes a little time to answer him.
"My Gods, Bill, that sounds so much worse! I think I might have to reconsider." The playfulness in her tone is unmistakable now; the previously unknown comfort and happiness his simple presence brings into her life is always able to chase away even the darkest of clouds.
"Reconsider what?" He whispers into her hair, between well-placed kisses along the line of her temple. Somehow, she smells even more amazing today than she usually does, and he just can't quite get enough. Not that that's something he isn't used to by now, when it comes to her.
"How you should call me, of course." The conversation is complete nonsense, and they both know it. He calls her Laura, her name a beautiful melody to him in and of itself, and he loves the way it rolls off his tongue, uniquely, like no one else's. The occasional term of endearment is usually just a slip of his tongue, and even if she doesn't protest too hard, it still never quite fits. He thinks that's alright, since there really isn't any one word that could adequately translate what this woman means to him, and it's definitely beyond, well maybe not hers, but definitely his language skills anyway.
There is only one thing he can think of, that might convey the same message, at least partially, and the words are out of his mouth as soon as they first come to him, right there on the front porch of the cabin that he had built with his own two hands for the woman who's currently occupying them.
"What about Mrs. Adama?" he asks in a whisper, kissing her cheek as he leans over her shoulder, waiting for an answer.
At first, she is so motionless that he starts wondering if she had even heard him, her face turned into his shoulder just the way that he couldn't see her expression. Then, when he saw her lips moving, forming something as if she was about to speak, yet no sound made it past her lips, it finally dawned on him. It actually happened.
He felt an irrational sense of male pride, because for the first time that he could remember ever since knowing her, she was entirely speechless, and it was all his doing.
When she remained that way, he began raining gentle, barely-there kisses on her face, nose, cheeks, eyelids, forehead; just about everywhere he could reach, kissing away the tingy taste of salt around her eyes, until he could physically feel her trembling in his arms. He carried on this way until he felt the tightening of her arms around him, her silent signal for him to pull back just a fraction, so they could face each other.
He did, and ever so slowly, she turned in his arms, their eyes founding one another, faces pressed impossibly close as she turned her nose into his, breathing him in, and exhaling a long, contended sigh as her breaths finally evened out. In that moment, he already knew it was the happiest he's been – ever since Laura was cured for the second, and final time – and she didn't even answer him yet. Not that it was ever really the question that mattered.
"What do you say, Laura? How does being the wife of the Old Man sound?" He spoke so softly that if they weren't already defying the laws of physics by being as close as they were, she probably wouldn't have heard him at all.
She blinked a few times, trying desperately to avoid tearing up again, not wanting to miss the way he was looking at her now. Not that it was any different from the way he always looked at her; as though she was everything to him, not just in this world but in all the ones that had been before, or the ones that would be, even after they, and everyone they ever knew were long gone. He was always more articulate with his looks than with his words, and this wasn't something that could simply be put into them, anyway. Still, she knew.
She figured, if they were already so close, it would be as efficient an answer as any, to just turn her face a fraction of an inch really, so that her lips could caress his in a way that would leave no doubt about where she stood on the matter – not that there had been any, to begin with. And then, maybe her lips could go even lower, exploring and expressing everything she was feeling at the moment, trying to convey just what she felt for this man, followed by her hands, and his lips and then his hands. And other parts of the both of them too. She figured that even though the night was about to get colder, between the two of them, and the shared heat of their bodies, they would manage. And then, they did have a blanket, too. She figured it could work, so she went ahead with her plan. He did not stop her.
It was much later, when they finally laid in their own bed, completely relaxed and not at all chilled – the weather outside may have turned cold in the meantime, but it had absolutely no way of touching them inside the warmth of their cabin, and in the arms of each another – that he lifted her left hand, kissing her fingers one by one, ceremonially holding it up in the air between them as he let her slip the ring off his own finger, placing it in his open palm.
"I'll take that as a yes, then." He slowly slipped his old wedding band onto the ring finger of her outstretched hand, making her, for all intents and purposes, his wife.
"So say we all."
#
"I'd like to show you something," he'd said and instructed her to dig up something comfortable from their limited amount of clothes, bring some water just in case and don't ask any questions, because it will all be clear when we get there. That was an hour and a half ago and Laura found that she just couldn't keep her growing curiosity at bay any longer.
"Where are you taking me, Bill Adama?"
The smug look he threw over his shoulder told her the question wasn't entirely unexpected, and that he was surprised she lasted even this long. She raised an eyebrow at him, but kept her pace behind him, never one to resist a challenge. On second thought, he probably knew that, counted on it even, which only infuriated her more. Damn him, for knowing her so well.
"Not tellin', it's a surprise," his face softened slightly at her entirely unpresidential pout, "but we're almost there."
"You know for someone who prides himself on being an honest, straightforward man, you've been keeping an awful lot of secrets from me lately," she quipped, and almost tripped in a fallen branch in the process.
Almost, because he was there in a fraction of a second to catch her, and she fell into his chest with a loud thud, their eyes locking for a long moment. He took the opportunity to swipe her unruly hair out of her face and stroke her cheeks patiently. He was always so calm, like an ocean she wanted to drown in. Except, of course, when he wasn't. Not that it mattered, really. She loved him, loved all of him, and that was that. The rest of it was just her cross to bear.
"Do you trust me, Laura?" he whispered, not letting her gaze drop, and her answer was immediate. "Always."
"Good," he said, taking her face in his big hands softly, caressing her lips with his own until she was completely out of breath. "Then follow me, woman, and quit complaining."
"Yessir." she saluted him, and he rolled his eyes, but couldn't resist taking her hand and holding onto it the rest of the way.
#
"Please, oh please, tell me you're not about to renew your vows!" Ellen Tigh's not-so-slightly inebriated voice rang through the small cabin, while her husband barely managed to hide the snort threatening to get out.
Look who's talking, Bill thought to himself. Ellen and Saul probably exchanged vows more times than he's had days with Laura. Okay, slight exaggeration, and although Bill was tempted by that thought for half a minute, one look at Laura's frozen expression confirmed his suspicions that she might not be so keen on the idea.
"Though we appreciate your enthusiasm Ellen, but I think we're good as we are right now," Bill chuckled as he gently tapped his wife on the back, afraid that she'll choke on the ambrosia she was drinking. And then later, when the color finally returned to Laura's cheek, he leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear, making her shiver, "besides, I happen to know for a fact that she's more of a one-and-done kinda girl."
The rest of the evening passed without incident, and Laura begrudgingly had to admit that Bill was right in inviting their extended family to spend this day with them. It's been so long since Laura had this many people around to care for her at the same time, and if she was being honest, she felt out of practice.
Lucky for her, she had a man by her side who was more than used to the commotion, and she only recently realized that somewhere along the way he had taken her hand and has ever since been quietly navigating her through the crowd for a while now, making her feel like she truly had a home with these people. The fact that they both found their home in each other went without saying, but that didn't stop them from saying it from time to time.
#
Neither of them knew what they had gotten themselves into, until they were actually standing there, with a lot more people around than they would have willingly agreed to, and no way to back out now. These people came here to see the former Admiral of the fleet and the former President of the Twelve Colonies tie the knot and they would get what they came for, so help them.
At least, that's how Laura felt, looking around the crowd, suddenly feeling a lot more nervous than she would have thought reasonable, given her political past and the fact that she was getting married to the man she loved, who loved her more than anything in the world.
It actually wasn't all that bad, until Cottle unexpectedly barked "And now the vows," managing to make that simple statement sound more like an order than anything else, and Laura froze, momentarily forgetting that she was actually here to get married, not about to walk into one of her dreaded Quorum meetings.
Vows. That was most certainly not something they had discussed, or rather something that anyone had discussed with her in particular, and she was supposed to be the bride, for frak's sake. Her eyes flitted up to Bill's, silently asking for his help.
'Vows?' she mouthed, almost desperately, not even having the presence of mind to actually speak the words, even though they were standing so close that probably no one else would have heard her.
He just shrugged, almost invisibly, only to those who were looking; namely, his very-soon-to-be wife, an almost frightened, definitely-on-edge Laura. And he had the audacity to smile at her. With his whole face. Like that. Gods only knew how much she adored that smile, how she sometimes craved it even, but she found it seriously irritating at the moment. The nerve of the man.
She tried to school her features, and had to note with a slight distaste that she was more than a little bit out of practice. It simply wouldn't be good form to hit the man she was literally in the process of marrying square in the chest, now would it? Certainly not, though that didn't stop her from seriously considering it.
At last, Laura's eyes flickered about, at the people gathered around them, and she noted, with a sense of surprise, and a bit of unexpected hurt that had she actually whacked her husband-to-be, not many of them would have noticed. From the way people were paying – or rather not paying – attention to them, nobody would have guessed that it was actually their wedding.
Looking around though, she had to begrudgingly admit, that the reason for that was that it was actually working. Whoever had this genius idea in the first place, was right. The people needed this, this morale boost, so to speak – she couldn't believe she was thinking about her own wedding that way. Damn occupational hazard. But really, contrary to her initial outrage and then enduring and slowly dying resistance, it wasn't an intrusion into their privacy, wasn't meant to be one anyway, not as much as it was the need to be celebrating with and sharing in the happiness of the two people who'd put their lives on hold for so long, in order for humanity to even begin to have a chance at survival.
It was just humanity's way to pay them back. In that very obnoxious, slightly intrusive way that humanity has, even if the intentions are mostly good. Laura sighed, because the former President in her actually understood, had already accepted all of that without having to be explained. It was Laura, who was having trouble sharing this very joyful, very intimate moment of her life with the people who could have, surely, found a more creative way to thank her for everything she's done for them. Right? Wrong. Time to face the music indeed.
She thanked her lucky stars that Bill was with her, she had no idea how she would have survived this without him. She almost audibly chuckled at herself; that was the idea behind getting married, after all.
The thought of that alone was enough to turn her sullen mood upside down, which was the one reason why she was going through with this at all. Whatever else this wedding may or may not accomplish, it would end with her and Bill being officially – well, as officially as that was even possible in a post-post-apocalyptic society anyway – pronounced husband and wife in front of the Gods and what was left of humanity, and, yes, even the remaining cylons. Frak if she even understood her own life anymore.
Her slightly eccentric thought process was brought to an abrupt halt as Cottle cleared his throat and looked over at Bill meaningfully, prompting him to get this show on the road.
Bill, for his part, never once let his eyes leave Laura. Not even when he was directly being spoken to by someone else; he just couldn't be bothered. It was his wedding after all, and regardless of whatever else might be going on around him, in his eyes, this day was all about Laura.
It didn't escape him that his future wife was maybe a little more nervous than she had reason to be, and he was determined to show her that this day didn't have to include anyone else, that despite whoever else was present, his world only consisted of the two of them. So he did his best to convey just that to her, as he spoke his vows, seeing nothing but her lovely face, feeling the rest of the world slowly fade away.
"Laura, you know very well how I feel about you, and it's not something that can be put into words, and definitely not something that can be said in front of a crowd of people, regardless of who those people are to us. It's between you and me, and no one else, not even the Gods."
As Bill said these words, almost instantly, he began to see the change in Laura. Her expression softened, her eyes began to water and her hands gripped his just that much tighter. It looked as though she was receiving his message, loud and clear.
"But I'll say this. This, what we have, you and me, Laura – it's not something I ever expected to have, believed in, or even searched for. I never thought it was possible for me to ever look at another person, and feel the way I do, whenever I see your face. But you proved me wrong, yet again. You made me believe. And for that, Laura, I thank you."
He lifted their clasped hands and placed a delicate kiss on top of hers, to punctuate his short, but emotional speech; his eyes leaving her face for the first time since they began the ceremony. When he looked back at her, he found her looking at him like he just hanged the moon. He imagined he must be looking at her quite the same way.
It was only after someone – probably Cottle – cleared his throat, that he realised they were still surrounded by people, still in the middle of their wedding ceremony, and still quite literally at the forefront of everyone's view. He found that he didn't give a frak. Her face was telling him everything he needed to know, now or ever, but apparently not everyone was able to read her like he was.
"Young lady. If you would." Definitely Cottle.
"Right," she shook her head, visibly shaking herself out of her stupor, their intertwined hands seemingly the only thing anchoring her to the ground at this point; he could definitely relate to that. "I keep forgetting that you people actually need me to say these things out loud. Alright, then."
Bill's chest was physically swelling with affection for her at the private look she shared with him after her muttered comment, so much so that he was afraid it would show, even through the old, but definitely thick uniform he chose to honor this very special occasion with. The fact that she hadn't even batted an eye as she dug up the bright red outfit she wore that night on New Caprica would have convinced him that she was literally made for him, if he didn't believe it already with every fiber of his being.
She was trying to conceal her painfully obvious – at least to him – nerves by putting on her most businesslike manner, he almost expected her to push the glasses she currently wasn't wearing higher on her nose, and the whole thing was so endearing that he was tempted to just grab her hand and run away with her, if only to save her the embarrassment.
She would certainly appreciate it at the moment, but he knew that that's not how she would remember it later. Awkward as it may be, but the look in Laura's eyes as Bill said his vows to her, in front of everyone left in the world who still mattered to them (and then some people who probably just came to see if they were still ticking), was enough to convince him that this was anything but a mistake. She might even thank him one day. Now that was certainly something to look forward to.
And besides, they already had their private ceremony, in a way, and in the eyes of Laura and Bill, they already were married, in every sense of the word. They probably had been for some time, even before that.
"Bill," she started, her eyes clinging to his for comfort. She could do this, if only she was speaking to him alone, without the feeling of so many other pairs of eyes upon them. Well, the way he was looking at her would soon take care of that, she thought. She might as well pretend it's just the two of them.
"You know, the minute I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with you," the corners of his eyes crinkled at the in medias res-ness of her admission, his bright blue irises practically dancing with joy that she was finally, finally letting go of her meticulous control, consequences be damned, "I knew immediately that it was for the last time in my life."
"Turns out I was right, though for an entirely different reason than what I believed at the time." His eyes darken in understanding, hearing everything she in not saying as if she shouted it from a raptor, as is often the case between them.
"I really did think I was going to die, then. And the only reason I'm even bringing this up now, is to say how grateful I am, to be here today. Regrets are not easy to live with, there is not one person here today who isn't painfully aware of that fact; but the truth is, my biggest one would have been never knowing if you and I really had a chance at something… the very same something that I now know to be the best thing that ever happened to me in this life, or any other."
She whispers the last line, only for him to hear.
"Bill, I would have regretted it even more than dying."
He catches the one tear that manages to escape with his thumb, and they somehow get through the rest of the ceremony without the sense that any time has passed at all, until they are left standing there, in relative privacy, for the first time since the wedding first began, his thumb still tracing feather-light circles on her cheek. For some unexplained reason, that's how both of them chooses to remember that day.
#
"Five years have passed since then, and I still can't quite believe that's the story of how we finally got hitched," she chuckled as they relived the seemingly distant memory.
"Five years with you and I still don't know what I ever did to deserve any of it."
"Mmm, cute," she snuggled into his side, for no other reason than to feel him closer to her, feel his heart beating steadily under her palm. "But a tree house, Bill? We're not exactly sixteen anymore, you know," she said matter-of-factly, in case he hadn't noticed.
"Well, no, we're definitely more on the wrong side of six–"
"If you value your continued existence," she informed him in her most presidential voice that she could muster while lying next to him in the grass, on the spread out blanket, "you will not finish that sentence." He only chuckled in response.
"I was gonna say… the lake. We're on the wrong side of the lake, you can't really see how beautiful it is from here, the trees are obscuring the view."
Which made it the perfect place for his little surprise. Besides, the lake was really beautiful, she had to give him that. It made her think of the lake on New Caprica, even though they looked nothing alike. The water here was not at all clear, definitely not like looking through glass, but rather it was blue. The bluest blue she had ever seen, an incredible shade that might have even rivaled his eyes, but no. Nothing could compete with those eyes, Laura reasoned, as she looked into them, remembering their conversation.
"Bastard," she said, then leaned in and kissed his right cheek. "Thank you. It's perfect."
They were lying on a blanket in a clearing, staring up at his creation. She had to admit that it looked quite amazing, even to her untrained eyes. She already knew about his considerable skills, had their cabin to prove it, but to see the details up close, the intricate carvings on the wood, the way the stubs were tied together without any leftover strings, basically spotless – he's really put his heart into it, there was no other way to put it.
"How did you pull this off without my knowledge?"
"I had help."
"Hmm," she already figured as much. "So is that why I've been seeing so much of Ellen Tigh lately?"
"Maybe a little too much, don't you think?" he chuckled, giving her a knowing look. "I'm thinking it's time for us to spend some quality time together, away from the crowd, especially the Tighs."
Her smile could have lit up all the dark corners of Galactica, numerous as they were, and you can take that from him. "So say we all."
#
All the 'guests' were gone, and it was only the two of them at last, spread out on all the blankets that they could find, on the top of the little hill facing their cabin, drinking whatever it was that Tyrol gave them. Frankly, it could've been poison and they would've drank it just the same, going to their deaths with dopey grins on their faces while holding each other's hand. Marrying the person you love, after what they've been through, both individually and together, it just gives you the kind of high that means you no longer give a frak, as long as you have that person with you.
And in their halfhearted attempt to recreate the night of the Groundbreaking on New Caprica, there was one more element (a different kind of high, if you will) that needed to be incorporated in the celebration, which, as always, Laura was happy to provide. Bill wouldn't have even asked her where she got it this time, had the look on her face not been a dare in itself for him to do so.
"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, mister?" She was teasing him, which only served to accentuate the color in her cheeks and it was so endearing he almost forgot what he was about to say.
"I don't have to know, as long as you decide to share."
"I'll share everything with you, Bill. Always."
It was, of course, not New Caprica, but that didn't mean it couldn't be just as good. No, not good, better, because they were safe here. And together. They were finally together, in every sense of the word.
"The world is so different from up here," he said after a while, thinking out loud.
"You mean down here?" meaning the planet, which he didn't, but she certainly had a point nonetheless.
"Mhm," he answered her, while not answering her at all. "Either way. I still can't quite believe we are here though. Both of us," he tightened his arms around her body. "Seems too good to be true sometimes."
"I know what you mean. And I'm grateful for it every day. Our little break turned into quite a life, hasn't it?"
Bill chuckled lightly as he remembered the conversation she was referring to. Back on New Caprica, when they were so close and yet, she had still closed herself off to him, never letting her guard down completely. She was afraid to let him see her even if the weed and booze and general merriness lowered his inhibitions enough to let her do the same thing. He let her get away with it then, but things were very different now.
"We got to just enjoy it after all," he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
"Yes we did. We do." Till death do them part.
"You know, Bill, sometimes I wonder." A hum, encouraging her to go on.
"Do you think… had we met on Caprica, before the attacks – and technically yes, we did meet before the attacks, but I trust you know that's not what I mean here – do you think it could have ever been like this?"
"Probably not." Her signature giggles suddenly broke free. Not because it was funny, but because it was unexpected. (And the fact that she was completely stoned didn't help matters either.) She had been certain that he would be the romantic and she would have to be pragmatic and remind him that he was insane, as per usual. But this was interesting too.
"I really thought you'd humor me there."
"Whatever this stuff is, it loosens inhibitions," he said as a way of explanation.
"Apparently." Try as she might, Laura couldn't keep the giggles under control after that.
"Laura, listen," that was his Admiral voice, but then he cracked a smile at her and it was enough to make her foggy brain cooperate. "The day we met the worlds ended." They shared a smile at the double meaning, but she let him continue without comment. At least for now.
"We fought. First the cylons, then each other, then the cylons some more. Your cancer, twice over. We didn't always win, but we survived. We did that by building a connection along the way that could withstand virtually anything. By the time we got here we had no fight left in us, but we were so much stronger than when we started. That is one hell of a way to start a life together. But you see that wasn't even the case, because our lives have been intertwined, one way or another, since the day we met."
"I can't say that I wouldn't have looked at you twice, had we met under different circumstances, because I would have. But I'd have only seen a hot lady with a great pair of legs and gorgeous hair. I wouldn't have seen the woman who was hiding so much underneath that pretty surface, not the strength, the determination, the iron will. And most importantly I wouldn't have seen your faith and your love. I wouldn't have seen you. You wouldn't have let me."
"So you're saying it took no less than an apocalypse, and us being forced to get to know one another, for me to open myself up completely to another human being?" There was no malice in her voice, only curiosity.
He shook his head immediately, indicating she was missing the point. "I'm saying there is always potential. For more. Something real. But sometimes, it takes a special set of circumstances for two people to realize that, and shine a light on what is already there."
There was a bit of silence on her end as she processed all that he told her. "Huh," she answered finally, taking the joint from him and lifting it to her lips. "I was right." She blew the smoke out, before finding his eyes again. "You are the romantic."
"Guilty as charged," he rumbled, dropping a kiss in her hair as he pushed himself up a bit, trying to reach the object on the far corner of the blanket. When he finally managed it, he settled her back against his chest and opened the book on a random page. "But only when it comes to you."
They spent the next half hour reading, his hand in her hair, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. Laura was so comfortable, the slight buzz from the joint still affecting her, as well as the simple pleasure of his body under hers, that she was on the verge of falling asleep when she detected a slight change in the narrative, as opposed to what she was normally used to.
"Wait a minute," the fact that he ignored her and went on 'reading', confirmed her suspicions that he was making up new details as he went, weaving their story into the book they've read so many times they lost count.
"Bill," she whined in mock annoyance, "you're reading it wrong."
"'From the moment I first laid eyes on her, she's in my blood, like a triple malt scotch,'"
"I don't think that's the line, Bill."
"But it is, Laura."
"We've read this book a hundred times, that is so not what it says."
They were both laughing now, but it was too good of a game to give up.
"'Her hair is the color of an orange sky, with deep purple bleeding through at the edges. Tempting and mysterious, like she is.'"
"Not even close."
"'I'll never be free of her," he said at last, kissing her on the nose. "Nor do I want to be," then her cheek, "for she is what I am," her forehead. "All that is, should always be.'" And then finally her lips, leaving them both breathless for a little while.
"Now that's more like it."
"Nothing gets past you, does it?"
"Mmm, no. And you sir," she poked him in the chest, right above his scar, "need to take reading lessons."
"Well, it would certainly help if I had my glasses," he looked at her accusingly, without the slightest of feeling to back it up or make it credible in any way.
"Do you want them back?" She asked innocently enough. She was always the better actor out of the two of them anyway.
"Not really, keep them," Bill said, adjusting her own glasses on his nose. "Yours look better on me anyway."
Laura's rich laughter echoed through the hills, as the couple continued to bask unapologetically in their well-deserved happiness.
#
They were lying on the wooden floors of the treehouse, staring up at the stars through the open roof, much the same way they had done on their wedding night, up on the hilltop, as well as what they fondly think of as 'that night' on New Caprica.
"That was fun. We should do that again sometime. But maybe without the weed, this time. Some things we really are getting too old for."
"But not all the things," she replied saucily, already reaching up to pull his head down to hers.
"Definitely not all the things, Mrs. Adama," he said before he lost himself in her.
After the impromptu make-out session, they just lay there for a while, content to enjoy one another, the chill in the air not yet so prominent as to be uncomfortable, not when they had each other. The stars shone brightly in the night sky, watching over the couple as they lay peacefully in each other's arms. It truly was a beautiful day.
Laura started to stir, and Bill looked down at her drowsily, sleep already clouding his vision, but it did nothing to obscure the infinite tenderness in his gaze, as he looked at his wife.
"What is it?" Trust him to know that she had something on her mind, even if he was already halfway to dreamland. She gave him her eyes, and the sudden sadness there made sure to wake him up almost instantly. She rested a steady hand on his chest in reassurance and shook her head slightly, to let him know it was okay.
"Nono, Bill, I'm quite alright," she said, voice soft, while her fingers traced patterns over his shirt, right above his heart. "It's just that sometimes I think about… how our story could have turned out so very differently... which in turn only makes me more grateful in the end."
She smiled up at him sweetly, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you. For this, for today. And everything else before that. Just… thank you." She kissed him soundly, trying to convey everything she was feeling at the moment.
"Thank you, Laura," he answered, when they finally broke apart, and they smiled at each other lovingly. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"Our story is still very much alive, as are we, and it's written by nobody but you and me," he gathered her up close and she rested her head on his chest as they stared up at the stars once again, thanking every deity there is, for giving them this.
"Mmm," was her only, if slightly belated answer.
They were almost asleep again when she whispered his name, "Bill."
"Laura?"
"I never want it to end."
"Then it never will."