This was originally posted on LJ some years ago. I haven't polished it too much as I've always rather liked it. It was partly inspired by a very funny unfinished (I think) A/R fic, Jungle Love, but I'd be lying if I didn't add that this also owes much to Kerry W's Voyager Days series too (old ST:VOY). I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed those!

1: In Which Laura and Bill Struggle With Gravity

'This is all Racetrack's fault,' Laura Roslin said peevishly, struggling up a wall of mud that falsely advertised itself as a hill.

'It's not her fault you decided to have a field trip,' Admiral Bill Adama pointed out from behind her.

Laura carefully pivoted to glare at him. It was incredibly slippery underfoot, and she was burdened by an impressive rucksack, making her balance precarious.

'Let me give you a recap, Admiral. Racetrack found the planet, didn't she? Without the planet, Gaius frakking Baltar would have lost the election, and we would thus not be on the planet. Ergo, it's Racetrack's fault.'

She noted with some satisfaction he had nothing to say to that. Not that she thought she'd got away with impugning one of his pilots; she knew he'd have his revenge, eventually, and almost found herself looking forward to it. She plunged the stick with which one of the more thoughtful boys had provided her into the slough of mud, and leaned forward in order to take another step. The sounds of cheering drifted down the hillside, and she paused to glance up through the canopy of leaves, squinting around the glare of her glasses.

'Sounds like they've made it to camp,' she said in a more amiable tone.

'Yeah,' Bill grunted. 'Let's get a move on. My shoes are leaking.'

Startled, she pivoted again. 'Leaking? I thought they were military issue.'

'They were. Twenty years ago.'

She rolled her eyes and prepared to turn around again - but her foot slipped on a loose stone and she staggered, reaching out for Bill. He grabbed her automatically, but without his arms to give him balance, the extra weight was too much and he went over, causing them both to slither ungracefully through the mud.

Once their impromptu slide had stopped and they'd blinked the daze out of their eyes, they struggled to their feet.

'This was definitely a bad idea,' Laura complained, more breathless than she cared to admit. Her eyes became narrow slits of fury behind her mud-spattered glasses. 'There will be ructions, I promise you.'

'What are you gonna do?' Bill asked, altogether too calmly. 'One hundred lines of "I must not piss off Miss Roslin"?'

She flung him an unpleasant smile over her shoulder as she began to toil up the hill once more. 'Nothing so trite, Admiral.' She gave a complacent smirk. 'I'll have you know I was renowned for my punishments during my teaching days.'

His eyebrows skyrocketed and his gaze became fixed on her face. 'Yeah?'

She kept the smirk in place and hummed her assent, but Bill, most provokingly, said nothing, so she focused on moving onward and upward.

'I can hear you thinking from here,' she called after several moments when he remained taciturn and the only sounds were the rustling of the leaves overhead mingling with their own harsh breathing and the muddy squelch that echoed every step.

'Little full of yourself, aren't you, Roslin?' he jeered, giving her a light slap across the backside.

Laura yelped in surprise. 'What was that for?'

'I'm just giving you a friendly shove up the hill,' he told her, doing it again.

She glowered at the muddy path ahead of her, not daring to turn around. 'That implies sustained, helpful pressure,' she informed him acerbically, the words coming out almost of their own volition. 'Slaps don't qualify.'

His low chuckle in response was so near that she realised he was literally behind her, so close that she could lean back and touch him.

She wanted to. How she wanted to. But she couldn't. They were on a field trip, and that meant behaving like responsible adults, even if they were old, slow, and dripping black goo. She sighed and her next plunge with the stick was particularly vicious.

'What's wrong?' Bill asked, mockery turning to concern with lightning speed.

'Nothing,' she said shortly.

'Cut the crap, Roslin,' he told her. 'You were ... enjoying... my help, weren't you?'

'Now who's full of himself?' she muttered, her mood souring.

Laura thought she heard a grumbled 'Women,' but she refused to verify it, because she was consumed with an overwhelming desire to hurt him. She was tired, cold, covered in gloop, and now he wanted to have a deep and meaningful about her feelings?

She huffed in annoyance and concentrated on making it up the hill. The fact that they were very much the tail end of the group of seventeen teenagers and three adults did nothing to improve her temper. She hated being in the tail end of anything, and she shuddered to think what the kids were up to. Even Tory was not all-powerful.

'Can't ... be ... too much further now,' she panted after ten minutes of hard and mostly silent climbing.

'It's not,' Bill confirmed. 'Another five minutes should do it.'

'Thank the gods for that,' Laura snapped.

'Sure you don't want help?'

Laura said nothing.

'We could help each other,' Bill suggested hopefully.

Laura snorted. 'Yeah, and then we'd tumble down again. I'd rather be excused.'

He had the sense to keep quiet and they continued to climb.

And then Nemesis arrived, in the shape of several whooping boys equipped with sheets of wood. Laura blinked.

'Are they doing what I think they are?' she asked in sudden panic.

Bill's only answer was a heartfelt groan. She tried to move, but she was stiff and tired and they were too slow. The whooping got louder. And closer. And then there was the sound of mingled expletives and snickers, but it no longer mattered because Laura and Bill had been knocked off their feet yet again.

They lay side by side in the mud and studied the light dappling through the leaves.

'Maybe we should just stay here and smoke weed,' Laura said in a conversational tone edged with more than a little bite. 'Clearly, we are fated to never reach the frakking camp.'

She heard Bill's breathing change, preparatory to speaking, and raised a finger, mud dripping gelatinously back to its source. 'Don't. Just don't.'

For a wonder he obeyed, and she relaxed. Wet mud wasn't actually that bad, she decided. It was cold, but at least it was relatively soft.

They stayed there until Tory's distinctive mop of hair appeared before them, haloed in retina burn. 'What the frak do you two think you're doing?' she demanded shrilly, hands on hips. 'This is a field trip, not a beauty spa!'

That was the last straw. Laura could feel the giggles rising up in her as she thought of the ridiculous picture they made, and she made the mistake of catching Bill's eye at the crucial moment. They reached for each other and began to laugh hysterically.

Tory continued to glare, and they laughed harder.

Eventually, she said, 'Fine. Suit yourselves. Die of hypothermia. See if I care,' and stormed off, leaving the erstwhile leaders of humanity alone in their muddy bed.

Next bit coming soon! I'd love to know what you think.