Battlestar Galactica and its characters belong to Ron Moore and Glen Larson who should blame this on their casting director. If they hadn't paired Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos, I wouldn't have to write about the supernatural heat between the two characters.
President Roslin pulled back the curtain dividing Starbuck's hospital bed from the rest of sickbay. Starbuck was pretty beat up and groggy from painkillers but she registered that the President was there to see her and she tried to sit up a little straighter.
"Madam President," she welcomed, somewhat surprised.
"Starbuck," President Roslin said as she came over to her bedside, "I'm glad to meet the legend." The President smiled down at the pilot she'd heard so much about as she extended her hand.
"Ditto," replied Starbuck as he shook her hand.
"I'm very glad you made it back. You're ingenuity is phenomenal. I have it on good authority you have a well-deserved medal on the way."
"Thank you, Ma'am. You'd be surprised how creative you get when survival is on the line." Starbuck thought for a minute. "Actually, since you saved all of those civilians, maybe I'm telling you what you already know."
"I have a lot to learn yet. I want you to know, Starbuck, Commander Adama and Captain Apollo were frantic to get you back. Apparently, you mean more to them than anyone else in the fleet." Starbuck felt sure that the President was wrong. She was convinced the two men would have gone to similar lengths to save one other person, the one standing at her bedside.
"You'll probably hear that you showed up just as we were about to jump and leave you behind," the President continued. "That was completely my decision. They fought me hard on it and would have expended every last resource, and died themselves trying to recover you if I let it go unchecked. I'm sorry I had to think of the fleet first, no matter how much I admire and value you."
Starbuck considered the President's confession for a moment and what caused her to reveal this. She figured Laura Roslin wanted to make sure she didn't resent Lee or the commander for thinking of leaving her even though anybody would have concluded she was dead. There was something else. This woman wanted to make sure Starbuck knew these men loved her and she didn't want that jeopardized by her decision to leave her behind.
"That's your job, Ma'am. I would've done the same thing." Starbuck respected the President even more for being up front about it. She must have thought Starbuck would hate her.
"Thank you," a relieved President said as she smiled at Starbuck.
"And thanks for letting me know about the Adamas. They are difficult bastards but their love is worth it."
President Roslin joined her in a laugh. "I'm sure it is."
"You don't know?" Starbuck questioned with her typical disregard for protocol. They'd crossed the line into girrrl talk, where there were no secrets.
Roslin was taken aback. "Um…no. Is there a rumor?"
Starbuck snickered. "No, Ma'am. There are lots of rumors."
The President sighed and pulled a chair up to Starbuck's bedside. She braced for impact.
Starbuck was really enjoying herself now. She had the most impressive of captive audiences for ribald story swapping.
"Tell me," the President commanded reluctantly.
"Well," Starbuck started in a confidential tone, "the gauge is both Adama men are hotter than Corsican City asphalt for you."
Laura's eyes widened. "What!" she exclaimed between gasping and laughing. "That's not true," she assured Starbuck. "Lee is just a puppy and the commander; well…he can barely stand to be in the same room with me."
Barely stand the heat, thought Starbuck.
"Really?" Starbuck said in feigned innocence. "That's too bad. If they are like Zak, which I suspect they are, you couldn't do any better between the sheets."
The President was shocked, amused, and refreshed by Starbuck's lack of propriety. They were instant friends.
"Trust me," Starbuck continued since the President failed to rebuke her, "any trouble an Adama man causes you…and they're sure to…is worth it for the volcanic caliber, soul-shaking sex. Besides, the whole fleet already thinks you're bedding the commander. You might as well take him for a test ride if you're making the payments."
"Why do they think we're sleeping together? We argue all the time!" she protested.
"There's that," Starbuck replied drolly, "and the fact that any time you two are in a room together everyone's afraid it will spontaneously combust. Haven't you noticed the extra fire extinguishers we've installed?" Starbuck joked. This was a blast. Starbuck loved this woman for letting her go so far.
This was getting dangerous. The President choked on a laugh as she rose and returned the chair to its place. "Thank you, LT Starbuck. I'll take your point under advisement."
"Yes, Ma'am. In any case, be sure to ask him to show you how he got the call sign 'Husher'," Starbuck responded, unable to stop smiling. She'd won Commander Adama's love back and opened a door with Lee. And she had bad girl talk with the President. It was a pretty good day considering she was stuck in a hospital bed.
Commander Adama had been waiting outside to escort the President back to her ship. She blushed a little when she saw him and hoped he hadn't heard anything from her conversation with Starbuck.
He'd heard everything. The "privacy" dividers didn't offer much. He had to fight the urge to go in and stop Starbuck from…well…speaking the truth. All he could do now was pretend not to know she knew.
"Madam President," he greeted her as they turned down the hallway.
She averted her eyes so that her hair would fall over her face and hide her burning cheeks. "Commander."
"How is she?" he asked as a means of diversionary small talk.
"She's got her spirit in tact, that's for sure."
"That's Starbuck for you," he said with some satisfaction.
"I may need to take her on as a personal advisor."
"Starbuck? Not for protocol, I take it."
Laura laughed at his jest. "I mean an advisor for my personal life."
"Really?"
"She says I should sleep with you."
Adama stopped dead in his tracks. The President followed suit. He turned to look her in the eye and she faced him. Her eyes told him this was a probing mission; a challenge to see if he could keep his cool about it.
He looked down at her feet which told her she better forget the idea. Adama was too uptight.
Then his eyes moved ever so slowly up her calves. She was rooted where she stood, pinned by his invasive appraisal. At a painstakingly slow pace, he pointedly moved his stare up to her thighs and lingered there before sliding one hand to his chin, then his lips as he blatantly took in her hips and her waist.
Laura wondered at what temperature her body would melt but she stood fast.
Husher moved his hand from his lips to his chest as he stared at hers, which was rising and falling faster than it should. Laura thanked the Lords she was wearing a suit jacket. Otherwise, what he was doing to her would show through her blouse. Finally he worked his way up to her face. He stared at her lips and languidly licked his own.
She could not help exhaling the breath she'd been holding as his eyes raked hungrily over her. Just when she thought he was done, he circled her at a lascivious pace, studying her as if she were a masterpiece. When he finished the circle, he turned back down the corridor and started walking without a word.
Confused, it took her a second to fall in after him. Once she was at his side, keeping his eyes straight ahead, he said, "In that case, I second her nomination as your advisor."
If there was ever any doubt in her mind that Starbuck was right, it disappeared now. This man would definitely cause 9.0 earthquakes in bed. He'd already given her a 3.5 without even touching her. The President grasped at something to change the subject since they were in a public place and she was dangerously close to sexually assaulting him.
"She also told me to ask you to show me why they call you 'Husher'," she said as calmly as she could as they walked on.
An evil smile played across his face when he finally turned it to her. "Are you sure you want me to show you, Madam President?"
"It's not a boxing move, is it?" she asked, feeling as though she'd been set up for a fall.
"Not really. But it is a good way to win in a fight," he said cryptically.
"Well, then, by all means," she said.
Commander Adama looked at his watch. "Do you have time now?"
"How long will it take?"
"Not long."
"OK. This seems like a big production, though. Can't you just tell me?"
"Well, I have to show you one of my artifacts or you won't understand. We'll have to stop by my quarters."
She nodded and they went the extra two hallways to his Q. Once inside, he walked over to his office and motioned for her to sit on the couch. He went to a display stand and picked up a dead grenade with a plaque affixed to it.
"This is from the Ubata Raid, 16 years ago," he said as he came back over to the couch and sat down next to her. "Do you remember it?"
She nodded, prepared for a good war story.
"I was a captain at the time. Of course you know, the problem was the cabinet was second guessing everything we did…"
"That's not true," she protested, having heard this argument before. The deaths of hundreds of civilians were blamed completely on the political leadership but there were other factors involved. She knew some of the cabinet members and defended their decisions.
As usual, the President and the commander launched into a heated argument about the philosophical aspects surrounding the tragedy. When they were at apogee, Laura Roslin stood up, pounding one hand into the open palm of her other to stress her point about the extenuating circumstances.
Adama put the grenade on the side table and stood to face off with her eye to eye.
"There's no way even the ground commander could have known those people would be there!" she correctly exclaimed.
Husher was about to lose this argument, which was exactly how he planned it. He turned away from her and paced over to the side of the couch, seemingly preparing his rebuttal. She followed him, unwilling to let him run away from the argument she was about to win.
He looked over his shoulder, saw she was right behind him, and turned to look her in the eye. Holding her gaze, he said nothing in defense of his point. Just when she felt certain of victory, his eyes lowered to her lips for a long few moments, then back up to her eyes.
Oh no, she thought, just before he scooped her to him and kissed her mercilessly. When he finally stopped, he held her fast with one strong hand on her spine and an arm wrapped around her waist.
"That's why they called me Husher," he said in a throaty tone.
"What?" she whispered, somewhat breathless.
"When I was young I tended to like the brainy, headstrong types. I guess I still do," he smiled meaningfully at her. "Whenever I was about to lose an argument with one of my girlfriends, I would stop it by 'hushing' her with a kiss," he explained, still using that intimate voice that made her want to do anything he said.
Reluctantly, he released her and straightened his jacket. He went over to the small galley to get some water, which he desperately needed if he was going to maintain his cool. "So you can tell Starbuck I showed you. Water?" he asked as he poured out a glass.
She nodded. This would be a tough one. How could she out do him? Lords, she wanted to kiss him again and have his hands on her. Overcome by the heat, she took off her suit jacket and laid it on the couch.
Unwittingly, Adama gave his adversary the very weapon with which she would take him down by handing her the glass of water. She held it up in a toast and said, "Here's to you, Husher."
Adama smiled and raised his glass, pleased he'd won this round. Then she tilted the glass and slowly let the water pour down her throat and over her white blouse as she tilted her head back. While the coolness was welcome, it wasn't her main purpose. Adama's jaw dropped open and his fist wound so tightly around his glass it shattered.
Laura looked at him to see what happened. He let the pieces of glass fall to the floor and walked right over them to get to her. She smiled at the lust burning in his eyes. He picked her up while they kissed with dire need. She lost her glass to the floor as well. Neither of them thought about winning any more. In fact, neither of them thought at all. Feeling pushed everything else out of the picture.
Somewhere, a Richter scale registered a 9.5.