Disclosure: I do not own BSG, or any of its characters, yet they live on in my heart. SO SAY WE ALL!
NEW CAPRICA
"Stop it Laura! That's the third pencil you've snapped this morning!"
Ms. Roslin bit the inside of her lip and frowned. "Good to see you haven't lost your ability to give orders, Tory."
The aide shook her head, causing her exotic hair to loosen from the bun she'd tried to tame it into. "I never ordered you," Tory corrected the former President of the Twelve Colonies. "I merely gave you my strongly held opinions and suggestions. What you did with them were up to you. That was then. Now is another story. Supplies are short as they are. If we run out of pencils, the children will have to resort to doing their work in crayon."
"If need be, we'll sharpen the broken off ends," Laura all but growled. "Thereby doubling our pencil rations, wouldn't you agree?"
Maya snorted from nearby, as she bundled up her baby daughter, Isis. The child was due for a routine medical check-up within the hour, and the young woman so wished she could be witness to the upcoming action.
"I'd think you'd be happy. You've been planning this day for a month," Tory continued.
"I am happy," Laura sighed. "I just want everything to go smoothly."
"It will," promised the ever-optimistic Maya, as she patted her mentor on the shoulder before exiting the school tent.
Laura looked on as her students diligently did their work, heads down, eyes on their papers. Twenty-seven students in all, they ranged in ages from five to eleven. It was a typical one-room schoolhouse, in the style of Aeirlon, and some of the other more modest of the Colonial worlds. While K thru 4th and 5th grades were taught in the mornings, older children, usually up to the age of sixteen, were taught in the afternoons once their work or chores were through. After years in politics, it felt good to be back where she'd started. Teaching. It had been Laura's life before, and it was her life again.
The other bit of something occupying her life was what concerned her the most right then.
Laura nervously twirled another prized pencil in her fingers. "Is he here yet?"
Tory rolled her eyes. "He was as of two minutes ago. I saw him waiting outside the tent, just before I arrived to relieve Maya. The admiral is dressed in his duty blues, as you requested, and not those horrible green BDUs he's been wearing lately. I think I even saw what looked like a smile beneath his mustache."
"Good. Good," Laura repeated. Distracted, she didn't even notice when Tory snatched away her pencil like a skilled pickpocket. Organizing Career Month for the students had seemed like a good idea at the time. Inviting Bill to represent the military had been an even better one at that. However, now that the cold light of the New Caprican day was upon them, Laura began regretting her well-placed intentions. "I should probably go get him," she stated with an absent nod to herself.
"Or else we'll have to bring the children out there. Either way," breezed Tory.
Without response, Laura took a deep breath and straightened her clothes before exiting the school tent with a swish of curling hair and a brightly colored floral skirt.
Squinting against the over-cast noon sky, Laura searched for the man in question. If Bill Adama had indeed been waiting outside, just as Tory had said, he certainly wasn't anymore. Cursing under her breath, Laura strode up and down the bustling street as small clouds of dust trailed behind in her wake.
For in as much as she would've hated not seeing him at all, Laura secretly hoped Bill had been called back to Galactica earlier than he'd been scheduled to return. Conflicting emotions swirled inside her. While she missed him passionately when they were apart, what awaited them both, namely Bill, scared the living shit out of Laura. It had seemed so perfect, planning the school event, and using it as a veiled excuse for their being together on-world. Of course it was her choice to be made, to have settled on Baltar's rock. And she was happy for having done so... most of the time.
It was the days after, and those leading up to seeing each other, that were the hardest.
Off in the distance, Laura spotted him. An upright figure among a sea of huddled masses. Bill appeared to be in no particular hurry as he ambled along the street, stopping to talk to citizens who were more than likely former members of his crew. He carried a cardboard box underneath one arm, and could be seen lazily tossing what looked like a small hand grenade into the air, and then catching it, as he made his way towards the school.
What the frak is he doing? Laura wondered to herself. I'm not about to let him bring a potentially lethal weapon into my classroom. These children aren't his marines.
"William Adama, get your ass over here- NOW!" she called to him, her hands resting on her prominently curvaceous hips.
More than a few bystanders stopped and decided to watch the ensuing fireworks. Those that knew the admiral were anxious to see how he reacted to his own dressing down. Those who knew the town's most famous teacher were curious to see what she would do, now that she was without her beloved airlock.
Laura seethed as Bill strolled even slower, the last meter or two.
"Uh-oh. Looks like I'm about to get detention from Old Lady Roslin."
"If you're lucky."
Bill fixed Laura with his most disarming of smiles, then watched as she struggled to retain her composure amidst the watching public. The small hum she emitted, audible only to him, told him that she'd been reduced to the consistency of flan.
"Sorry about being late," he drawled. "I was actually on time, but then I remembered that I forgot to bring an apple for the teacher... so I doubled back and hit the marketplace. Took longer than planned, as this was the closest thing available." From behind his back, Bill produced a tawny pear. "Hope it'll do."
Laura fought the urge to kiss him right there in the street. "At least it isn't a grenade," she replied. When he looked confused, she laughed over her own inside joke. "Pears are actually my favorite. You did good, Admiral."
They walked together, toward the school. Bill carrying his box of unknown goods, and Laura carrying her gifted fruit. Casually, their free hands touched along the way. His swallowing hers, eventually.
Such nearness was nice.
"How's your day been so far?"
"Good. Finished an early duty in the CIC. Came down here, met with Baltar. He wants to begin intensive exploration of the planet's surface and subterranean depths, for potential mining and geologic study purposes," Bill said of their president's decree.
Laura huffed. "An adult decision. Didn't think he had it in him."
Bill winced as he recalled the meeting with their skittish new president. "I was actually kinda proud of him- that is until he asked about a timetable for converting some of the Raptor fleet into tanks and surface transport vehicles."
"No! He didn't!"
"Verdad."
Despite knowledge that he wasn't joking, she laughed a bit louder than necessary.
"You're nervous," Bill noted as they neared the large tent. The grip Laura now had on his wrist was like a vice. "Why?"
She coughed. Turning to face him, Laura rubbed the bridge of her nose, beneath her glasses. It was no use. He knew her too well. "I must warn you, Bill. I'm throwing you into the lion's den."
He chuckled at the notion. "What? You mean the children? Laura, remember I had two little guys of my own."
"Yes, but admittedly you were not around them very much." When Bill started to speak to his own defense, Laura placed a hand to his chest to silence him. "I've been away from teaching for fifteen years, and in that amount of time I totally forgot how kids be."
"I thought you adored your students."
Laura smiled. "I do. Every last one of them. Even the naughty ones." Laughing huskily, she patted his chest. "They are so smart, Bill. So aware. Earlier this week, I had Dr. Cottle visit the class. He gave us all physicals, and told the children some pretty gross medical stories. They loved it."
"I bet."
"But when it came time for the question and answer session–"
"Shh," Bill soothed. "Laura, don't worry. Everything will be fine. I promise. I assure you, I've dealt with far worse, and on both ends of duty. From the top down, to the very bottom. Commanding Officers and XOs. Snot-nosed recruits and cock-sure Viper pilots. Hell, Starbuck alone is responsible for every grey hair I have."
"I have no doubt of that."
"Then you should know I'm ready for whatever they throw at me." Bill juggled the box he carried. "And if all else fails, I brought props. We'll have fun."
"Mmm." Peeking inside the cardboard flaps, Laura distracted herself with the gear he brought to show the kids. Framed photos, ship models from the war room, and charting maps filled the box, as well as what hopefully was an unloaded sidearm.
"I don't bite," he promised.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Tell that to the hickey you left me with on your last shore leave."
Bill rocked confidently back on his heels while remembering their interlude. It wasn't his fault that the back of her left knee had begged to be ravished. "Children," he clarified. "I don't bite children. Only their sexy, red-headed teachers."
Laura elbowed him playfully once they reached their destination. "It's not too late to back out."
"Not one to run from a challenge," he growled. "You know that."
"That I do." Laura patted Bill's cheek, then took his box of toys into her arms. "See you in a few minutes, Admiral."
# # #
William Adama commanded the attention of the students as though they were a new crop of nuggets in the Galactica's ready room, with equal amounts of firmness and warmth.
Upon his entrance to the tent, all twenty-seven children stood to salute the admiral. It was a gesture that tugged sentimentally at Bill, knowing that Laura had been behind such action. It was, of course, a nod to their early days of forced pomp and circumstance.
Each little face remained fixed in rapt awe as the admiral gave a condensed history of his career, both in the military and civilian fleets. He regaled them with sanitized tales of the first Colonial War, and of the brave men and women he served with. Bill also shared his props, distributing them amongst the kids and giving them accurate explanations of each.
Inevitably, the talk turned to the subject of the Exodus. In doing so, he tried his best to remain positive in their current circumstance, while simultaneously noting the great losses their people had suffered.
"Were you scared?" asked one little girl in the audience. Her name was Katherine, and she was all of eight.
"Yes," Bill admitted candidly. "At one point I believed my son had been lost in the fight. It was the worst feeling in the worlds."
Sensing the difficulty of such an admission, Laura jumped in when it looked as though Bill was beginning to falter. "Admiral Adama's son, Leland, was a captain at the time of the attack on the Colonies. His call sign is Apollo, and he led a Viper squadron against the Cylons."
"Did he die?" asked young Jackson.
Bill cleared his throat, and his mind of those horrible hours. "No. Lee survived, and I'm proud to say he now commands the Battlestar Pegasus."
"The Beast!" shouted the boisterous lad known as Laird.
"Yeah," Bill chuckled. "Which I guess just goes to show that if one works hard enough, maybe someday you'll get a bigger ship than your old man's."
The room laughed, even Tory, who stood near the exit.
Proudly, Laura moved to stand beside Bill. "Before he returns to the Galactica, do any of you have questions for Admiral Adama?"
Almost immediately, twenty-seven hands went up in the air.
"Don't say you weren't forewarned," Laura whispered in her lover's ear before moving down the aisles to collect his items from the children's desks.
Doing his best to be stoic, Bill crossed his arms and fielded the first question.
"Which do you like better- Vipers or Raptors?" asked the tow-headed Aaron.
"Vipers," Bill stated quickly and easily. As Laura returned to the front of the classroom, he chanced a wink in her direction, as if to say- I've got this. "There is nothing quite like the rush of piloting a Mark II. It's like... the coolest thing ever."
Laura arched a brow, playfully. "Really?"
Noting her attempt at rattling him, the admiral remained focused. "Really. But I will say, Raptors are pretty fun too. I like spending time in them."
Andy, the younger brother of Aaron, spoke next. "What do you do for fun?"
A very un-ladylike snort came from behind the teacher's desk. Ignoring it, Bill replied honestly. "I like to read. I also like to box, and build model ships."
Several more questions came Bill's way, which he handled easily. That his favorite color was red, his favorite food was noodles, music choice was classic rock, and pyramid team was the Picon Panthers were all subjects on the minds of the children.
When the time began to lag and the kids became shy, Bill turned things around by wading into the rows and assigning call signs to everyone.
He also playfully interrogated them in return, with each question being sillier than the last. The admiral's smooth and unexpected moves won over even the quietest girl, causing her to giggle openly when he asked her if she was a Cylon.
"No!"
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes!" hiccuped the smitten Michaela.
Laura could barely look at Bill once he returned to his place at the head of the class, for fear she'd melt into a puddle of warm goo. A love for children- Laura had never seen that side, and it made her fall even deeper for him. Since she'd settled on New Caprica, and he'd been visiting her, Laura found there was much more to William Adama than met the eye.
"Should I be jealous?" she purred softly, while keeping her eyes on the papers she graded.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he whispered over his shoulder while casually leaning back on the front of her desk. The students, oblivious to the adults, chattered away with each other, deciding whose call sign was the best. "The young man in the fourth row, second from the right–"
"Travis?"
Bill hummed an affirmative. "Seems he has a huge crush on you."
The idea, not to mention the sight of Bill's uniformed butt, made Laura smile. "And you know this, how?"
"Personal experience."
At that, Laura stood and walked around to join Bill in front of the students. Things had gone exceptionally well, and she was eager to end the day on a high note.
"Okay, Class- let's give Admiral Adama our thanks for joining us today. As the commanding officer of our military, he has a very important job protecting our planet and the rest of the fleet, so we must not keep him for too long."
"NO!" came the chorus of children.
"But it's almost time for school to be out," Laura croaked. "Your parents will be coming for you soon. You don't really want to stay longer than you have to. Do you?"
"YES! PLEASE, MS. ROSLIN?!"
Turning to Bill, Laura met no relief. He knit his brows, pooled his eyes, and frowned dramatically.
"Not you too?"
"Please, Ms. Roslin," Bill repeated the children's request. He smiled sweetly, a big kid himself.
Ignoring him, Laura tried appealing to her assistant. "Tory?"
Ms. Foster compared her watch to the analog clock perched on the inner framework of the tent. "Sorry Laura," she said while reverting back to writing in her ever-present notebook. "We're actually running ahead of schedule, if you can believe that! The class has ten more minutes before the bell officially rings, so if Admiral Adama wants to stay, then I'd say why not? You're always saying how you never see him eno–"
"Thank you, Tory," Laura interrupted sharply. Not since losing the election had the woman used her presidential voice, but she found it quite easy to do so just then. Defeated, she turned Bill over to the students for more questions, figuring her lover got whatever he asked for in staying.
Natalie, one of the older girls, raised her hand. "Are we still going to find Earth?"
Before answering, the admiral folded his hands together in thought. "That's a very good question, but one I can't answer right now. I'd certainly like to resume the search for the Thirteenth Colony as soon as possible, but the decision has to be made by President Baltar."
"He's so dreamy!" cheered Natalie's desk mate, Julia. "President Baltar is coming to visit us next week! He's the finale of Career Month!"
Paling slightly, Bill turned to Laura.
"I have to run my curriculum by him," she quietly explained with a shrug. "And it was the only way I could get him to agree to let me put on the event."
It figured.
Admiral Adama returned his focus to Julia, and the rest of the class. He was unsure of how to respond to such a statement. The girl clearly idolized their new president, and for all intents and purposes, Baltar was his superior, after all. He couldn't rightly say the man was a complete asshole. Especially to a child.
"Yes, well... I do suppose he is dreamy..." Bill coughed. "Next question?"
Taylor, a lad with light brown hair, stood. "Why don't you wear contacts?"
Bill adjusted his glasses and shrugged at the suggestion. "I'm old-fashioned."
"What happened to your face?" The question came from Fenton, a precocious boy of nine.
The admiral got that a lot, even from his own sons at that age. "It really isn't much of an answer, but more of an excuse. My family is from Tauron, and as some of you might know- there's an awful lot of olive oil used in their cooking. Let's just say my Tsattie was a great cook- I mean a really, great cook. And I unfortunately didn't do a very good job washing up. Acne was the result."
Laura's heart broke, just a bit. She smiled lovingly at Bill, then faced the class. "A lesson for all of you kids."
"Yeah," agreed Bill. "Once I started liking girls, I wised up pretty quick. Got in the habit of good hygiene, but by then the damage was done."
Outside the tent, rolling thunder could be heard off in the distance. The temperature was starting to drop, and Laura could feel an afternoon storm brewing. "It seems the Gods are speaking to us," she told the class. "We have time for just one more question before I dismiss you to go home to your families."
Saira, a young lady with shining black hair, began waving wildly.
"Go," Bill ordered her playfully.
"Um..." After taking a deep gulp of air, the girl excitedly stated her piece. "My mom says you have a thing for Ms. Roslin. Do you?"
A beat later, came the distinct sound of a pencil snapping in two.
Tory sighed, then left the school tent in a defeated huff.
Laura didn't dare so much as look at Bill. She didn't need to. She knew his face would be a mask of the trademark Adama stoicism. Inside, he had to be screaming. Laura imagined he hated her.
Placing moist palms on her desk, Laura Roslin looked out at the expectant class. Saira, with her sweetly sincere eyes, waited for the answer to her question. The other children were getting antsy. They were either ready to merely go home, or perhaps ask further probing questions.
They were going to eat Bill alive!
Out of the corner of her eye, Laura watched as The Old Man fixed his stance, and squared his shoulders. The only discernable note of tension was a slight clenching of his jaw.
"Yes," Bill admitted honestly, and with a note of joyful ease.
The class ooh'ed, as if on cue.
A flood of follow-up questions came pouring in from the students.
Internally, the admiral felt as though he was back in the cockpit, facing down a swarm of Cylon Raiders for the very first time. For some reason, he hadn't been scared then, and he wasn't scared now. It was like a heady rush. With his woman by his side, he was ready to show off.
"The thing- will Ms. Roslin like it?" Saira asked in follow-up. The child seemed to be running point for the rest of the class, asking their questions for them.
"I think so," Bill replied dryly. To which Laura squeaked quietly.
"Did you make sure she doesn't already have one?"
Bill caught the snickering in the back from the older, more knowing kids. Even so, he never flinched. "Of course. I looked thoroughly, but no. I can honestly say she doesn't."
"What color is it?"
Laura actually reached out and grabbed for Bill's sleeve as he moved to stand in front of her desk. "Please, let me end this now," she begged.
He answered her with an actual wink. To Saira, Bill simply replied, "Tan."
"Is it very big?"
The admiral quirked an eyebrow at the askance. He heard a soft thunk come from behind himself, and hoped Laura didn't hurt her head when it landed on her desktop.
"The biggest possible," he stated confidently.
Saira's last question nearly brought Laura to tears. Honestly, she began to wonder if one of her best and brightest students, a child who had learned sign-language just so she could be a friend to those who couldn't hear, was in fact, an evil Cylon. It was the only explanation of the torture she and Bill were having to endure.
"Does it smell good, and is it pretty?"
"Oh yes," Bill replied dryly. "You could say it almost smells like flowers. I don't know how pretty it is, but the packaging is serviceable enough."
"Admiral!" Laura warned loudly from behind.
He turned to face her, flashing a grin as he retrieved something from her desk. "Madam."
Returning to his audience, Bill continued his address.
"Earlier today I visited the marketplace in search of an apple for Ms. Roslin. In my day, it was customary to bring the teacher a little gift. A flower, or piece of fruit- something nice to get in good with them... you know?"
The kids all laughed.
"I was an okay student. It wasn't like a bribe, or anything. Really."
Again the kids laughed. Laura even joined them.
"So yes, I do, most definitely- have a thing for Ms. Roslin," Bill confirmed as he held up his previously gifted pear. "I often bring presents, whenever I visit her. She's my friend, and I like making her happy. It's fun to surprise her, now and then."
Laura hummed audibly. It was so very hard being mad at him.
Mercifully, the school bell rang...
"So say we all!" chanted the students as they quickly rose to their feet.
Their grateful teacher joined in, chanting even louder than the children. "So say we all!"
The admiral grinned, then added his booming baritone to the growing din of the schoolhouse. "So say we all!"
After a near two minutes of excited shouting from everyone, Laura dismissed the class. She and Bill stood by the exit, words unspoken to each other, as each child filed out. Tory was waiting outside, simultaneously organizing the mob and shaking her head at the threatening sky above.
"It looks like one pisser of a storm is upon us, Ms. Roslin," Bill commented as he saluted the last child to leave.
Laura peeked out into the open air. "Yes, Admiral. It looks like I'll have to cancel the afternoon session."
"A frakkin' shame. Whatever will you do with the rest of the day?"
"Well, you see, I still have one special student that needs my attention. He's been very naughty, and so I've given him detention."
"Really?"
"Mmm hmm."
Bill confidently rocked back on his heels, and placed his hands in his pants pockets, as she edged closer to him. "What's the poor guy's charge?"
Laura put a hand on his chest. "Insubordination. Collusion with other students. Harassing the teacher."
"Serious violations. With no airlock available, what's his punishment?"
"Remedial finger painting."
Bill grinned widely at Laura's advance. Already he was growing hard at the thought of their forthcoming time together. "Then I guess I better tell Racetrack we're not headed back upstairs. I've been grounded by a higher authority than that of the Presidency."
His lover laughed huskily, as she moved in to openly kiss him. "And don't you forget it."
# # #
Hours later, the early summer rain came in droves upon the tent. For the most part, the canvas held the water at bay, save for minor seepage that dripped into strategically placed pots and buckets.
A single oil lamp glowed invitingly at the bedside.
Laying side-by-side, wrapped in Bill's arms, Laura lazily traced abstract patterns upon his chest as he slept contentedly. His skin was wonderfully warm, and she more than enjoyed the feel of hardened muscle beneath her touch. The smattering of dark, springy hair that encircled each of his nipples felt soft at her finger tips, and made her hum with pleasure.
Waking slowly, Bill watched through heavy lids, as Laura continued to touch him. He loved having her hands on his body, in his hair - wherever she chose to put them.
She continued to brush the pad of her thumb across one of his aureola. It was quite a nice feeling, except for the fact that it was having an affect on another of his regions, and would soon give away the fact that he was no longer asleep.
Knowingly, Laura rubbed the sole of her right foot against his left shin. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Good nap?"
"Yes," he replied with a yawn. "Who knew detention could be so exhausting?"
She giggled and pressed kisses to the two large pinkish-red scars on his chest.
They laid together as they listened to the rain, feeling the bed- and each other. Bill threaded a hand in Laura's hair, massaging her scalp and sifting each shining strand between his fingers. She, in turn, continued her previous siege on his pecs.
"Someone is overly fascinated with a certain part of my anatomy," observed the admiral.
"Face it, Husker," Laura purred. "You've got great tits!"
The statement made him laugh until tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. Gods, she could be bawdy. If only the rest of humanity's population knew the inner wench that resided inside the outwardly refined Ms. Roslin.
"And here I thought you were fond of another part of me."
"Oh, I am." Appreciatively, she stroked her index finger along his body. "In fact, all your parts are special to me." Laura gripped his arms, felt the sinews in his back, and caressed his face. Drawing his head to hers, she kissed his mustached upper lip, and eased his mouth open to rub her tongue against his own.
Bill closed his eyes as his lover continued to worship him. Her hands were on his belly, and teased at his navel; while her mouth returned to his chest, deftly pebbling each of his nipples.
"Frak, Laura!" he winced through the pleasurable torture. "You're relentless!"
Laying her chin on Bill's sternum, she smiled innocently at him. "They're such a pretty color."
"Uh huh."
"I'm just reminded of Cottle's visit to the class last week."
He was almost afraid to ask. "Is this what you were going to tell me about earlier?"
"Mmmhmm." Her throaty chuckle vibrated against him.
Bill kissed the crown of Laura's head, inhaling her scent. "Do tell, Ms. Roslin."
"You remember Saira, from the fifth row?"
"How could I forget? She's a sweetheart."
"With a very sharp mind," Laura added. "Playa Palacios is her idol. Wants to be just like her."
The suggestion of the girl someday becoming a news reporter/journalist was sadly spot-on, and made Bill frown. "And her question for Cottle?"
"Why..." Unable to face him without losing composure, Laura buried her face in the crook of her lover's neck. Giggles started in short fits. "Why... do boys have nipples?"
Amazingly, the admiral remained as calm as he had been in the classroom. Bending his legs slightly, he scooted himself up in the pillows so he could better address the teacher, who lay sprawled along his torso and between his knees. "To which the doc replied?"
"You mean before he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and ran, red-faced, from the tent?" Doing her best Sherman Cottle impression, Laura growled, "'None of your damn business, kid.'"
They both laughed at the picture.
"Wise man. Such a thing is too difficult to explain to a child that age."
"I guess. But why not just tell the truth?"
Soberly, Bill arched a brow. "You mean, you don't know?"
Laura shook her head.
"You really don't know?" The notion caused the admiral to grin. Confidently, he ran a hand through his hair and puffed out his chest. "It's just as well. Women shouldn't be made aware the secrets of men."
Frowning, she climbed up his body to gain the advantage over her lover. Gripping him with her thighs, Laura loomed over Bill, her eyes a stormy green. "How very cave-man of you."
"Just speaking the truth, Teach."
She did her best to be mad at his chauvinism, whether it was intended or in jest. It was an impossible task, however, as he was far too adorable for words. With his mussed hair and glowing olive skin, he looked good enough to eat.
"Bill, everyone knows male nipples are just an evolutionary hold over. That the Gods got careless when making the sexes, and–"
"You, Laura Roslin, believe that?"
"Oh course," she rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe they were verging on having an argument over Creation, while in bed. "It's not like men have the ability to breast-feed!"
Silently, he folded his arms over his chest.
"What?"
"You know."
"Apparently not."
Bill looked her up and down.
The woman was wearing the dark outer layer of his double tanks, partially to guard against the noticeable chill that had set in by the rain, and partially because he liked the idea of undressing her later. The oversized garment had slipped off one of her shoulders and gave her the look of a wanton waif as she sat astride him.
He wanted Laura so badly. But first things were first.
She was clearly clueless regarding the subject they'd been discussing, and Bill found it hugely ironic that the guy that got bad grades decades before, was about to school the teacher.
"Surely you've heard of Witch's Milk."
Laura blinked as she recalled her past knowledge regarding such trivia. "Yes. When my sister Sandra became pregnant, I got her one of those books on what to expect before and after the arrival of the baby. Witch's Milk occurs when newborns leak milk upon birth- due to a flood of hormones from their mother."
Bill's chest rumbled with mirth. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but it happened to Lee when he was born. Damnedest thing. Freaked out Carolanne."
"I always thought it was an old-wives tale." Laura blushed, thinking of Bill's grown son- who now in command of his own ship. Would she ever be able to erase the thought of him dribbling milk from his famously toned chest? She choked at the picture in her head. "But honey, I hardly think that constitutes as male lactation. Witch's Milk happens to baby girls, too."
"It doesn't end there." When Ms. Roslin rolled her eyes in jest, Bill Adama continued his lesson. "When I was a rook pilot, it was common for them to send us out on one mission after another. Back to back flights, with no down-time in between. It could really play havoc on one's system."
Laura knit her brows, knowing the stresses the Colonial pilots had been under since the Fall of the Colonies. While their president, and even thereafter, she'd carried their burdens with her.
Bill kissed away her frown, and smiled playfully. The gesture quickly brought back the light to their moment, and Laura soon followed suit with a smile of her own.
"One of the guys in my squadron came in after doing three solid rotations with no sleep. Naturally, we all congratulated him with cigars on the hangar deck afterward, and he was feeling like the big stud. That is, until he unzipped his flight suit."
"Oh no..."
"Yes." Bill scrubbed his face with his hands, remembering the moment. "Milk was pouring out of him like a Guernsey cow. Soaked his tanks, even down to his shorts. All from exhaustion."
"That didn't happen."
"Hey, I was there. Such an event earned him the call-sign Wet Nurse, right there on the spot."
"I'm glad you didn't share that particular war story with the class. No child would want to join up with the Fleet after hearing that."
"Agreed. So now you can see why Cottle dodged the issue with the kids."
Laura traced his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb and tugged gently at his dog tags, bringing him closer. "I had no idea," she admitted, though her voice still noted skepticism.
The admiral huffed with conviction as he slipped his hands beneath the hem of his pilfered shirt, to cup the swelling breasts of his lover. She purred appreciatively as he thumbed her own nipples before leaning forward to suckle them through the softness of the fabric. Eventually, Bill did away with the tank altogether, lifting it over Laura's head and tossing it aside, in order to feast fully upon her naked flesh.
"Gods, Husker."
"It's rare. But it does happen, Teach," he said against her. He loved it when she regarded him by using his call-sign. "Prolactin is produced by both members of our species. Down through the ages, there have been well documented stories of fathers nursing infants after their wives die in childbirth, especially among the pygmy tribes of the Scorpion rainforests. It's even noted that a entire group of Gemenese missionaries on Saggitarron took over the task when their womenfolk went dry during the Great Famine a century ago."
"Womenfolk?"
"Got it from an old history book."
Laura hummed at the notion- too pleased at Bill's ministrations and lulling tone to balk further at his latest chauvinism. She cradled his head in her hands, allowing him to continue to take his enjoyment, as lightning coursed throughout her body.
"This could revolutionize early child rearing. Mothers would never have to feel guilt over going back to work. Fathers could truly share duty. Perhaps I should bring this up at the next PTA meeting. I'm sure Cally Tyrol would be interested when the time comes for her."
Disengaged from her hardened bud, Bill stared up at Laura. His dark blue eyes were pleading and near panic. "You wouldn't. Galen would have my head!"
Laura kissed him while a throaty laugh escaped her. "No. Of course not," the teacher promised her lover. He slumped back against the pillows in relief, as she smoothed his hair. "Though I have to ask... have you ever... let down?"
Grinning, Bill took Laura's face in his hands and returned her kiss in a long and thorough fashion before replying in the negative. "Not once. But trust me, you wouldn't want that in any event."
"No?" Again, she made another teasing play for one of his aureola.
"No," he rumbled with mirth. "Prolactin inhibits dopamine in men, which in turn makes for a longer refractory time."
Laura pulled back and searched his eyes, seeing the truth in their deep blue depths. "I see you've done your homework on the matter. You're very well read."
"Always a good idea when one is in Ms. Roslin's class," Bill replied, his tone that of warmed gravel. "I wouldn't want to come to her unprepared."
She giggled at her lover's turn of words. "Wise words indeed."
In one sweeping and possessive motion, Bill took her in his arms and rolled her onto her back, essentially switching their positions so that it was he that lay between her thighs.
"As I told the children earlier today, I do like making you happy, Laura."
"Oh yes, Bill, you do that very well indeed."
"Good." Tenderly, he kissed her.
Such talk of milk production and babies had awakened something deep within him.
Ever since their first time together, Bill had wanted nothing more than to give Laura a child. While giddily stoned on New Caprican Leaf, she'd told him that the Hybrid Child's blood had not only cured her cancer, but also re-booted her biological clock, and rather jokingly, they'd been trying to conceive, ever since.
Seeing Laura earlier in the day, surrounded by her students, had only intensified his desire.
"I want us to make a baby," she told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Truly I do, Bill. But I only have one small condition."
Worry suddenly passed over his features.
Laura smiled up at Bill, and she lovingly kissed away his fears.
"If the Gods decide to bless us with a child, and I pray every day that they do, all I ask is that you take the night feedings... seeing as how you're so nicely equipped..."
"Whatever you say, Teach."
#End#