Disclaimer: BSG is not mine but it's fun playing around. This story is post "Dirty Hands", just so you know...
Summary: Bill felt it was time Laura got a bed.

Demands & Expectations

Laura awoke with a pain in her neck, an aching throb that crept through bone and muscle. She tossed and turned, desperately trying to find a more comfortable position. It was useless. And she should know this by now. Well actually, she should have become used to it by now. Her makeshift bed wasn't meant for regular usage, certainly not for years of nightly servitude.

Laura shifted her weight onto her arms to get up slowly. She had to do something to avoid her muscles cramping and her back becoming stiff. Another busy day was ahead of her and she could not possibly afford to be all cranky and distracted just because her back was killing her. So she forced herself out of the warmth of her uncomfortable bed and reached for her bathrobe. As she leaned over to grab the white fluffy material she felt a searing bolt of pain shoot from her neck downwards.

"You gotta be frakking kidding me." Laura growled, bringing her hand to her neck and massaging the sore flesh gently while tilting her head from one side to the other. It didn't help much, but she forced herself to believe that it did some good at least.

Noticing how her deteriorating mood threatened to match the soreness of her muscles, she wrapped the bathrobe around her tired body and grabbed her blanket and the book Bill had just recently given her. A thriller, that was just what she needed right now. A gripping storyline, something to relax her body and stimulate her mind.

Sitting in one of her cozy cushioned chairs, she soon lost the struggle against her own tiredness. With her glasses still resting on her nose, her book dropped to one side of her curled up body as she surrendered to sleep.

A couple of hours later when Admiral Adama found her slumbering form he carefully removed the book from her chair and gently removed her glasses. She had asked him to join her for a working breakfast for a change, hoping to sweeten the dullness of fleet reports as much has possible. He had gladly accepted and promised to bring some decent food. Whatever that was in times of the current food depletion.

He smiled seeing her resting peacefully like that, her face buried in the cushion of her chair and her blanket loosely wrapped around her. She had never looked more beautiful.

He resisted the urge to caress her skin when he softly moved strands of her hair out of her face. He tucked the blanket closer around her, took the reports that were lying on her nightstand and sat down in the chair opposite hers.

It was an hour and 12 minutes later when she slowly woke to the sound of turning paper. She opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the bright light and saw him sitting next to her, focused on the fleet files. Bill Adama. His glasses on the bridge of his nose, his forehead wrinkled over some unpleasant facts in the reports, his movements careful and quiet.

Laura Roslin smiled. "Good morning," she said calmly, her voice still hoarse and filled with the roughness of sleep.

"Good morning," the Admiral returned with a chuckle. "I hope I didn't wake you."

Laura stretched her limbs and yawned behind her hands.

"No, no," she assured him. "What time is it?"

"It's a quarter to 9 now." Bill returned with a soft smile.

The President was awake within milliseconds.

"What? Why didn't you wake me?"

Bill's voice remained calm, his smile broadened, "You looked so peaceful. I didn't dare to wake you."

"Oh, Bill Adama. You should've woken me." She blushed.

"Why? To go through these reports again?" He looked at her. "I know you checked them already, and knowing how thrilled you are about status reports, I decided to give you the option of sleeping through them."

"Funny." Roslin answered with a serious tone in her voice and an amused sparkle in her eyes.

"By the way. Why did you sleep in your chair?" Bill asked.

Meeting his friendly gaze, Laura sighed and pointed to her deserted bed.

"Have you ever slept on an extensible couch? On a daily basis?"

Adama nodded, "I see your point."

As she made her way to her bathroom he poured some tea into her favorite china cup. He continued to talk to her while she was getting dressed in the other room. "I meant to raise this issue before but got distracted somehow."

"Oh?" Laura asked while getting dressed.

"Your sleeping conditions."

Laura grinned to herself. "You did offer me one of your beds already, Sir."

Bill chuckled. "And you refused."

"That's not true." She retorted playfully. "I just never accepted your offer."

"The difference being?"

She emerged from the bathroom, her hair in waves, falling down to her shoulders, dressed in her black suit, the one he adored so much.

"The difference being that I never turned you down."

"My offer." Bill flirted with her.

"Pardon?" Laura looked at him confused for an instant. "Oh yes, of course." And she smiled coyly. "Your offer."

She removed the blanket from her chair, throwing it onto the unmade bed, and sat down again. She accepted the tea cup Bill passed her with a grateful smile, and avoided further flirtations. She was now the President of the Colonies, having a briefing with the Admiral of the fleet.

"What was the issue you meant to raise before?"

Admiral Adama, dropping the thought of continuing their little game at the sound of her presidential tone, answered matter-of-fact, "I think the President of the Colonies should get a decent bed to rest her bones on at the end of an exhausting day."

"If we had a decent bed on Colonial One, rest assured Admiral, this President would get her hands on it."

There it was again, a sparkle of Laura Roslin behind the mask of professionalism.

"I could arrange to have someone build a bed for you in no time, Madame President. If you wish."

Laura raised her head to meet his sincere gaze.

"Don't tempt me, Admiral."

"It's not meant to be tempting. This is a serious offer."

"As serious as your other offers?" Her witty nature shone through again.

"I'm always serious about the offers I make to you, Laura." Bill said calmly.

That remark obviously hit a nerve, and she smiled.

"Alright then. I'll take your word on that."

He nodded, enjoying a last glimpse of her playful, flirtatious smile before her Presidential mask fell over her features, making Laura assume the role of President once more.

It was only three days later that President Roslin returned to her quarters in giddy anticipation. When she walked through the curtains that separated her privacy from her presidency, closing them with one swift movement, she was positively awed by the picture before her.

Admiral Adama was on his knees, checking the veneers at the sides of her new bed.

She smiled, enjoying the view of him crawling around what was now her bed, her eyes caressing every inch of his body. And what a bed it was. It was big, and it looked comfortable and inviting. Yes, it even seemed to scream her name. And like a cherry on top, it gave her a rare chance to study the Admiral's butt.

She giggled.

"Something funny?"

Bill Adama moved his head while getting up, obviously satisfied with his work.

Laura shook her head, "No, I'm just happy."

"I see." Bill returned merrily. "That's good."

And he pointed to the bed, "Care to try it right away?"

Laura widened her eyes in mock surprise, "Admiral?" She said in a hoarse, seductive voice, her giggles giving her away.

When Bill answered her with a raised eyebrow, she choked her amusement and answered with presidential seriousness.

"You don't seriously expect me to sit on this thing without anybody else having tested it yet, do you?"

Bill nodded. "So my checking the veneers didn't encourage your confidence in my craftsmanship?"

"You built this?" Laura was impressed.

He smiled.

"I did. With a little help of my men, but yes. I constructed it and I built it."

"For me." Laura said, her voice trailing off a little, which triggered a proud smile in him.

"Yes, Laura. For you."

Detecting a flattered sparkle in her eyes, Bill tried to change the subject again. "Now, do you wish to try it or not?"

Laura blinked, trying to control the shaking of her hand when he reached for it to guide her closer to her bed. Swallowing the first wave of surprise, Laura rediscovered her voice and her wit as she gave him her playful reply, "Only if you sit down with me. So if the bed should collapse under me, I have an excuse, and it wont be because of my abysmal fitness levels."

He chuckled. "Alright."

And he led her towards the bed, smiling at her.

"Oh, and before I forget, your mattress is filled with air, and it is constructed to adapt to your body in your sleep."

Laura returned his smile, making a mental note to ask him when he had learned to do things like that. And they sat down.

The first thing she felt was comfort. Mere and pure comfort, in all its entirety and perfection. And she couldn't help but lie down and release a satisfied moan.

A bed. After all those years. And hers alone. Cozy, warm and dressed in clean sheets. Laura grinned to herself, a devilish thought crossing her mind. How perfect this bed would be if it could be shared with someone else. A special someone. Someone she longed to kiss. Someone she yearned to feel against her skin. Someone who would meet her demands and who understood her. Someone who could make her laugh and who would be discrete about this. Someone who wouldn't toy with her emotions. Someone like Bill. No - just Bill.

She looked up again as she felt him move off the bed, obviously trying to grant her some privacy and space. She smiled and nodded to herself. Yes, Bill. She held her hand out to meet his, asking him to help her up. They didn't plan for the flexibility of the mattress and she found herself falling backwards, her hand still anchored to Bill's. She laughed as Bill Adama tumbled towards her, trying desperately to steady himself before he fell partly on top of her. She groaned in minor pain but carried on giggling.

"Ouch."

"Did I hurt you?" Bill asked immediately, trying to prop his body up on his arm, laughing at the image he saw of them in his mind: The chief leaders of the human race sprawled over a bed in a rather ungainly fashion, fighting hysterical laughter; laughter which had reduced the President of the Twelve Colonies to tears of joy.

"You look like a stranded whale." She said staccato-like in-between giggles.

And his resulting laughter was as free as she remembered it from their days on New Caprica.

After a while, their laughter tapered away, and they just lay next to each other. Suddenly Bill remembered that he had fallen on her arm and reached for it, wanting to check she wasn't hurt. Laura looked at him, her gaze thick with something he mistook for fear. Noticing the trembling of her arm at his touch, he carefully removed his hands from her skin again.

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I just wanted to see if you were hurt." And a feeling of uneasiness crawled to his heart, forcing his voice to control itself. "I would never take advantage of you in a situation like this."

"I know." Laura returned hoarsely. "And that's a real pity."

There it was. The doubt.

Had he just heard those words, spoken by her lips, in that low voice of hers he only had the pleasure to listen to on New Caprica before? Could she be serious now? Could she actually want him to act on the feelings they both knew were intense and shared between them?

He hardly dared to look into her eyes, being afraid to detect that mischievous sparkle again. But all he saw was a darkened gaze of hope and vulnerability. He swallowed when her hand cupped his, asking him to stay without having to say it. It was like he was observing himself from above as he brought his mouth to hers, to kiss her.

It was a short and tender kiss at first; he wanted to give her a chance to back away again. But instead, she moved one hand to his chest and the other around his back, pulling him closer to her.

He smiled to himself. Laura Roslin was only inches away from his touch, opening her heart to him and exploring his mouth with a hungry tongue. Their responsibilities, their positions, their professional detachment – it all crossed his mind for a millisecond. Thoughts that rapidly left his mind as she started to unbutton his uniform jacket. Thoughts that wouldn't return as small, soft hands moved against his flesh, caressing every muscle, every scar.

He moaned her name when she freed him from his shirts, bringing her hands to the scar that united his chest. Her lips following the path her hands had sought, he rolled onto his back giving her better access to his body.

Laura moved on top of him, her lips tasting the scent of him, her tongue tickling sensitive spots he had long forgotten he had. When she brought her fingers to his belt, she held his gaze for a moment, seeking his approval. She smiled at the desire his deep blue eyes transmitted to her.

She continued her exploration as she freed him from his trousers, taking in the arousal that pressed against the inside of his boxers with a satisfied smile.

Removing his socks and sending shivers down his spine as she placed hot, tiny kisses on his calves and thighs. Moving her warm hands to his butt she made him chuckle out of arousal and delight as she licked her lips while tugging off his red underwear.

Feeling her lips working their way up his thighs, he forced himself to open his eyes and gently guided her up to meet him for a passionate kiss while he freed her from her jacket and her top. Within a blink of an eye, he flipped her over and lay on top of her. Her hands caressing his chest, he worked on her bra, undoing it in record time. With her breasts revealed to him, soft, full and creamy, he confessed his love to her between lusty kisses.

Being rather vocal in response to his obliging treatment, her hands spurred him on, inflaming his skin and increasing his need for her. He slowly began to unzip her skirt, moving it down her slender hips, caressing her toned thighs with impatient hands. He smiled at the sight of her lacy panties, black nylons and lacy garters, beautifully framing the perfection of her upper thighs.

He kissed her belly, his tongue playing with her tiny button before he began to unwrap her from the rest of her garments. He kissed his way up her body, starting from her toes over her knees and thighs, over her belly, lingering on her breasts and neck before he nuzzled her jaw line and found her tongue to dance with him in another lingering kiss.

Their lips broke apart and reconnected as gasps and needy moans escaped their throats while hands moved with passionate intent. She felt his arousal pressed against her, her body arching up against his when his fingers began to tease the inside of her thighs, exploring the depths of her desire.

He was most pleased not only to find her even more responsive as he had ever dared to dream about, but also equal to him in her level of arousal and desire. Her lips traveled over his neck, nibbling at his ear, while she whispered words to him that became an immediate aphrodisiac to him.

"I want you, Bill."

And he stole another kiss from her, deep and devouring before he slowly became one with her.

Adjusting to the feeling of him inside of her, Laura closed her eyes, her lips curving into a high smile. She indulged in the feeling of him with her, motionless for an instant before he began to move with her, finding a rhythm of intensity and tenderness that drove her over the edge. Bill, followed her bliss, merging deeper with her, finding his release in her arms, with her name falling from his trembling lips.

Not wishing to part from him so soon, Laura tightened her legs around this hips, allowing him to keep them together as he moved onto his back, carefully taking her with him, wanting to stay inside her for as long as possible. Wishing to keep this moment forever.

It was the next morning that Laura awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door to her provisional quarters. The sound of Tory Foster's voice following the knock.

"Madame President?"

Laura opened her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, his chest steadily rising and falling beneath her head.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"Madame President, are you alright?" Tory's voice gave away her concern.

"I am perfectly fine, Tory. Thank you."

"Then why are you whispering?" The presidential aide whispered back.

"I don't want to wake the Admiral." Laura carefully chose her words, ever the political diplomat. "He wanted to make sure that the new bed met my demands and expectations."

"And did it?" Tory asked only half interested.

"Yes." Laura giggled slightly. "Indeed, it did."

Fin