Disclamer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Spoilers from "A Day in the Life" and "Dirty Hands" will be indicated using /…/ while flashbacks from "Unfinished Business" and my own ideas will /look like this/.
Ode to a Moustache
President Roslin sat back in her chair at the U-shaped table and rubbed her eyes. The Quorum had decided to hold three meetings on the same day. Her only relief was the brief trip to Galactica's gym, and true to Admiral Adama's word, it smelled like the inside of an old shoe. Glancing down at the files before her, she let a half-smile slip through as she realized that her next meeting was a briefing with the admiral. Seeing him was becoming the high point of her day. She allowed herself to indulge in remembering New Caprica for a moment.
/He was sitting on the ground when she walked over to him. "Didn't expect to find you playing in the sand," she said in a teasing tone./
/"Used to be the river," he mentioned. The sunlight caught the red highlights of her usually dark auburn hair and as he took notice of her, he eyed the wine-colored blouse she wore. "That's a nice color on you, it's good to see you, Laura."/
/She smiled over at him almost affectionately. "You too Bill," she answered./
It seemed so distant and yet so real, remembering him in the sunlight. She smirked, thinking of the thick moustache he had grown. He really should've kept it. It looked good on him, she mused.
His day had been no where near as boring as hers, and as he walked through Galactica's corridors, he wanted nothing more than to sit back on his couch with a good drink. As if having Caroline in his head all day were not bad enough, Tyrol and Cally could have died, leaving their son and orphan. Adama paused when he realized what was next on his agenda: a meeting with the president. Well at least there's one good thing about today, Laura's been spending more time here, he thought to himself as he walked toward the doorway.
"Admiral," she greeted warmly when she saw him.
"Madame President," he acknowledged with a friendly nod, entering the room.
She was giving him that saucy smile that he had not seen since New Caprica and he wondered what she was up to. "How did you like the gym?" he inquired.
"It was… a good place to unwind and get some exercise, though I think when some of the pilots realized who was using the gym, they were scared off," she relayed.
"Maybe they were afraid you'd airlock them if they bothered you," he teased and she grinned.
/"I'm glad you stopped by. I have something for you," she mentioned, handing him a book/.
/"Blood Runs at Midnight," he said the title aloud/.
/"It was given to me by one of the colonists on New Caprica and I forgot about it and Tory found it in a pile of old clothes. Don't let the title fool you, it's a pretty good mystery. I think you'll like it, and it's not a loan, it's a gift," she explained/.
/He sat on the edge of the table. "Regarding the times there, one in particular stands out in my mind. You were wearing a really bright read dress. Said you wanted to build a cabin," he remarked, smiling at her/.
/Adama and Roslin had decided for no other reason except the relaxation of it to lie on the ground and look up at the stars, not having had a planetary look at them in quite a while. After a few minutes, they had moved from lying next to each other to being curled up with each other./
/"This is how we'll spend all the rest of our days. Maybe we should just enjoy this," she conveyed./
/"I am," he remarked in his gravely voice./
/She smirked and shifted closer to him. /"I mean enjoy being here on this planet as long as it lasts… you got a break."/
/He was simply content to watch the stars for a moment. "I've got people who want to get off this ship, move down here," he mentioned./
/"Can't say as I blame them," she added./
/They had stayed up all night watching the stars. He had to leave the following morning, but she insisted on making him breakfast first. Coffee, toast, and eggs finished, he stood to leave. "I wish you could stay longer. Maybe Baltar could give you some decent shore leave," she mentioned./
/He snorted. "Not likely. I should be going. And I thought you hated this place. You're the one who needs shore leave up to Galactica," he joked./
/She giggled and stood by him. "Perhaps. For now sir, I do believe that you can't go until you get a proper 'goodbye.'"/
/"What do you recommend?" he asked, gently reaching an arm around her waist."/
/She fingered his moustache. "Jus a little farewell kiss," she mentioned as she leaned up to kiss him lightly, first on his moustache and then on his lips./
/Holding her closer, he kissed her soundly. Then they slowly separated and he left, stepping out into the windy world, pulling his jacket closer to keep out the wind-chill ./
/Recognition flashed in her eyes. "It was Baltar's ground breaking ceremony. I got a little silly that night./ And I remember you had a nice moustache going."
"I had little else to do. Had to shave it off and go back to work. Moustaches are for leisure," he attempted to explain.
She sighed and smirked at him. "That's a real pity because it looked good on you."
"It was grey," he reminded.
"That wasn't the point," she stated, turning her head to one side and grinning flirtatiously.
/"Ever wonder what would've happened, if the Cylons hadn't come back?" he inquired/.
/She crossed her arms. "Well I think given Baltar and the terrain we couldn't have made a go of it. What about you? Do you think you would have stayed on Galactica, or do you think you would have settled?/ Would you have kept the moustache?"
/He decided to drop the direction that the conversation had taken. "It's pretty hypothetical, isn't it?"/
/"It is. Until it isn't," she commented before having a good laugh. "Did I just say that?"/
/"It was worth it to see you laugh like that. We've been at war so long, sometimes we forget what we're fighting for, raise our kids in peace, enjoy one another's company. Live life, like people again."/
/She grinned. "Like that night on New Caprica, I think that's what we're talking about here now, isn't it?"/
/"That and… other times," he paused, attempting not to let his feelings get the better of him/.
/"So if the Cylons hadn't come back?" she pursued./
/"But they did." He stood and walked over to her. "We have certain responsibilities."/
/"Yes we do, sir." Before she left, she turned back to him. "Bill?" He glanced over at her as she spoke. "The answer's yes. I absolutely would've built the cabin."/
He smiled back at her. "Then I probably would've kept the moustache."
She chuckled softly. "I still think you should grow it back."
Roslin left for her next meeting as Adama finished his day with the Caroline in his head. At the end of it though, he came to a new resolution and picked up the phone. The president lifted up the receiver over on Colonial One. "Roslin."
"Laura," he began. "How about joining me for dinner next week?" he offered.
She grinned on her end. "I would love to, Bill," she answered.
However, next week became two weeks later due to schedule conflicts and every single Quorum representative wanting his or her time with the president. Adama walked onto CIC to observe a few routine shuttle missions. Saul Tigh raised an eyebrow at the Old Man and stepped close to him. "Thought you got rid of that," he remarked, referring to Adama's moustache.
Tigh watched Adama smirk through his usual stony reserve. "A certain president said it looked good," he muttered.
The XO chuckled and shook his head. "Better watch yourself, Bill. Next she'll be rearranging your closet," he teased.
For that he received "the look" from Adama, followed by an ill-concealed smirk. As they turned back to the viewscreen, Racetrack radioed them, having complications with her Raptor. Adama held his breath as she ejected, watching with his fists clenched as the Raptor collided with Colonial One.
Tory had seen the Raptor and quickly pulled Roslin to another part of the ship. After noting that the injuries were minimal, the president called Galactica. The admiral quickly grabbed the phone when it buzzed. "Adama."
"Bill, I thought you'd like to know that we're all fine here. There are only a few injuries and some dents," Roslin mentioned.
Relief washed over him as he heard her voice. "We'll be over there shortly," he relayed.
He found her moving boxes around as new sleeping accommodations for herself as well as others were prepared. She glanced up and smiled at him as he walked over to her. "I never realized how much paperwork I had accumulated. Fortunately most of it is a record of past evens."
"Laura," he began, "are you alright?"
She met his eyes and nodded. "It looks like I'll be living out of boxes for a while, but yes, I'm fine."
"Think you'll still have time for dinner tonight?" he inquired.
"Yes, and I'm looking forward to it," she replied.
He began to help her move things. After a pause, he spoke. /"If your quarters become too cramped, you're always welcome in one of my beds."/
Her head shot up and she smirked. "I'm already having dinner with you. Don't you think you're being a bit presumptuous?"
He chuckled as he moved a few more boxes. "That wasn't quite what I meant." As the two set boxes next to each other, he stepped closer to her. "Madame President, I'm shocked at where your mind has gone," he whispered.
She tried desperately not to giggle and it took a moment to regain her breathing. When she finally faced him, she realized how close they were. He seemed also to notice and took a step back. However, one of his hands had found hers and was reluctant to release it. She glanced down at it and then back at him. Fortunately the others on the vessel were too busy moving things to notice the interactions of their top two people of rank.
"I'm glad you're alright," he finally said before letting go of her hand. She smiled again before returning the project of moving boxes.
She arrived for dinner at his hatch after the long day of dealing with Fenner, Tyrol, and the union issue. He opened the door after hearing a knock. As he let her in he commented, "You know most people don't knock."
Knowing that he was teasing her, she smirked and sat on his couch, ridding herself of the blue jacket and the uncomfortable shoes. "In that case, you need a 'do not disturb' sign for those of us who come here to relax. If anyone comes here at this hour with any more problems about labor distribution, I'm airlocking people. As of right now, I left the president on Colonial One," she remarked.
"And I left the admiral in CIC." He chuckled softly, bringing their dinner to them. "I know it's not much, but it's better than the paste form," he commented.
She was not going to ask how he had made algae macaroni, or how he had gotten a hold of shredded cheese to go over it. "Thank you. It looks delicious," she relayed.
They began eating after he handed her a fork. "Saul asked about the moustache," Adama mentioned.
Roslin collected a fork full of macaroni and ate it before replying. "Did you tell him that it made you look dashing and heroic?" she teased.
He snorted and smirked. "If I'd told him that, he would've sent me to Cottle to have my head examined."
"What did you tell him?" she asked.
"That a certain president said it looked good on me," he answered simply.
She laughed and shook her head. "And you're the one who wants to avoid gossip. Deities, Bill, your comments will get us into far more trouble than anything I could said."
"Speaking of gossip, I was talking to Dee the other day and she had quite and interesting conversation with Lieutenant Gaeta. It seems that he thinks you're being on Galactica is suspicious enough," Adama conveyed.
"Then what's the harm if they already think we're up to something?" she encouraged.
He eyed her incredulously. "Laura, we don't want to fuel that fire. They look to us for leadership and guidance. We have to live by example."
She set her empty bowl down on the coffee table and crossed her arms. "The example we've been setting is that in order to get anything done, you've got to be alone."
"We talk, and we visit each other. I don't know what you're referring to," he countered.
Sighing, she shook her head. "Bill, I'm talking about those 'responsibilities' you mentioned. It's a poor excuse for why we can't be more than friends."
Realizing that they were both finished with dinner, he rose and took the bowls. "What about scandal from the press or the Quorum?"
"It doesn't have to be something public," she replied. He rejoined her on the couch and she studied him for a moment. "For once, I'm not the one holding back; you are. And I'd like to know why. Does it have something to do with your ex-wife?"
He stared at her, wide-eyed for a second, and then recovered. She had caught him off-guard. "Did Lee talk to you?"
She nodded. "Of course. I know it's not my business, but he wanted to talk to me about the problems you two had. He said you needed something to make you forget an anniversary for a dead adversary."
"I did love her. Whether or not she felt the same, it doesn't matter anymore. Laura," he paused and looked straight at her, "I'm not carrying a torch for a dead woman. I didn't want you to end up hating me like she did. I was trying to spare you that much. And Lee had no right to go behind my back and talk to you about my personal problems."
Folding her hands in her lap, she sighed. "I think he was concerned about you and thought that I might have some sway. Imagine that?" she mentioned with a smirk.
He relaxed and smoothed out his moustache. "You have more sway than you'll ever know," he admitted quietly.
"Then what are we arguing about, Bill?" she inquired.
"Why the hell we waited so long to start something," he suggested.
She giggled. "So we are starting something?"
He loved that saucy smile of hers, then took one of her hands in his. "Why don't you join me for dinner again the day after tomorrow and we'll see where this goes?"
Leaning toward him, she kissed him gently. They continued kissing for a moment longer, and then she slowly pulled away. "Only if the moustache stays."
He chuckled. "The moustache isn't going anywhere," he reassured her.
After she had left, he sat on his couch in his tanks, sipping a small glass of Ambrosia. He had made his mistakes with Caroline, but maybe this time things would be better. They would be more complicated in some ways, but better. As he crawled into bed that evening, he felt the moustache again and decided that maybe it really was time that he and Roslin started something more.
Fin……………………………………….