Yet another non-serious piece from me. This pairing is a guilty pleasure and I do enjoy playing with them outside of canon. The quotations are taken from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Thanks for reading. :)

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Chapter 1

Tom couldn't sleep. One of the generators across the hall was making an ungodly racket and the sound echoed easily through the metallic walls of Galactica. He swore, under his breath, when he slipped out of bed as his feet touched the cold floor. He dressed hastily; it was laundry day so his choices were limited. He pulled on a white button down shirt and a pair of black pants. The fabric felt thin from too much wearing and too many washes. Frak it. He grabbed a few meaningless baubles from the top of the dresser: someone's faded class ring from before the first Cylon war – but at least the gold was intact-, a rare coin with Athena dressed as Justice on one side and a Pegasus on the other, and a surprisingly pristine cigarette. He slipped the items in his pocket. They were probably enough to earn him a spot in one of Starbuck's card games, but trivial enough to part with.

The corridor was empty, at least he thought it was empty, until something soft bumped against the posterior side of his body. He turned, and was surprised to see the President of the Twelve Colonies standing behind him looking – rather un-presidential. She was leaning against the wall of the ship and holding her shoes haphazardly in her right hand, which explained her soundless steps. Her navy blue skirt and lavender blouse were neat and orderly, and yet – there was something generally askew about her, an unevenness in her movements and her posture that was so uncharacteristic. Her red hair had the tousled look of having had someone's fingers recently running through the copper strands. He wondered if they had been hers or someone else's.

"Madame President," said Tom in greeting. He quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

Laura continued to walk forward; it seemed that the lady had forgotten the basic law of physics, that two objects could not occupy the same space at the same time.

"Mr. Zarek," she slurred. "I seem to have misplaced my rack."

A myriad of completely inappropriate responses tumbled through Tom Zarek's brain. "I will be happy to assist you, Madame President, in locating your rack." Tom readied himself for her witty rejoinder, as was their custom, but the answering jab never came.

Laura stumbled forward and Tom suddenly found his arms full of Laura Roslin. He decided, immediately, that it was not at all an unpleasant predicament. Surprisingly, the usually standoffish Laura was completely unfazed by her utter lack of coordination. She even offered him the kind of smile he'd never expected to see her give him, a lazy curve of her lips and a honeyed sparkle in her eyes that was pure invitation.

Tom slipped an arm around Laura's waist to steady her, half expecting her to swat him away. He certainly didn't expect her to lean against him – and he certainly didn't expect the rogue hand that wandered down his back to his ass in one clumsy gesture. Tom grinned. It wasn't every day that he got groped by the very lovely - but ordinarily very chilly – Laura.

"How much did you have to drink, Laura?" asked Tom, amused, as she rested her head against his shoulder as he led her to her quarters. It was more difficult to walk than he'd expected while Laura draped herself all over him. Ah, but he could gloat over this one for weeks.

"A glass of white wine," she murmured in a smoky voice.

"One glass of wine my ass." He stopped at her door and helped her lean one shoulder against the wall while he continued to support the other half of her too-pliant body. "Where's your key card?"

Laura seemed confused by the question and she stared at him fuzzily for a moment before unbuttoning the first three buttons of her blouse, giggling softly as she struggled with them, and revealing most of her black lace bra along with a very good bit of cleavage as she fumbled around in between her breasts for her key card. She found the card with a happy little squeal and then proceeded to drop it on the floor. Tom snatched it up and hastily opened the door, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her inside.

Her room was just as tidy as he would have expected. A few books were stacked on her night side table next to a small notepad with notes written in her elegant hand. Her bed was made. There were no clothes or shoes lying about.

"Sit," Tom ordered and motioned to her bed.

Laura flung herself onto the bed with a pert little smile. The action caused her – and all of her assets – to bounce. "I think I'd rather lie down, Tom." With that pronouncement, she leaned back against the pillows of her bed, arranging her body into a provocative pose and skimming her fingertips from the arch of her thigh to the curve of her hip. "Care to join me?"

Tom gently grabbed Laura's shoulders. "Laura, seriously. How much did you drink?" He scrutinized her critically. "Are you dipping into the chamalla again?"

"Noooooo. I told you. I had one glass of wine." Her voice floated like an untethered balloon. She attempted to make the number one with a sign of her fingers but she raised two instead. Her laughter soared giddily throughout the small room.

"Look at me," said Tom. She focused her green eyes on his face. Her pupils were dilated. "Stick out your tongue."

Laura giggled at the request but she complied.

Her tongue was a vivid shade of apple red.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Tom. "Laura, listen to me. Somebody slipped something in your drink. It's an aphrodisiac called Cupid's Kiss or CK. Whom did you have drinks with tonight?"

"Um….Ellen…..and…the Colonel. Don't be ridiculous. Who would drug me?"

Laura pushed her body upwards and moved into a kneeling position. Her hands were suddenly gliding with enticing softness over the surface of Tom's chest. She looped her arms around his neck and teetered forward.

She was going to kiss him. Gods, but he wanted her to.

"Whoa," choked Tom, avoiding her lips but not quite disentangling himself from her embrace.

"Don't you want me, Mr. Zarek? Because I'll let you in on a little secret." She lowered her voice. "You can have me."

"Oh, sweetheart," said Tom warmly, allowing himself to indulge an endearment that he knew she'd never tolerate if she were clear-headed. He removed her hands from his neck and took them in his, "if you were sober and you made an offer like that to me, your clothes would already be off by now." Laura smiled seductively and gave an impatient tug on his hands. "But clearly," he lamented, "you are neither sober nor currently equipped to render true consent so….unfortunately for both of us I have to keep my hands to myself." He pointedly removed his hands from hers, gently grabbed her shoulders and gave her a firm push so that she was seated on the bed.

"Other than wanting to ravish me on the spot, how do you feel otherwise?"

"Mmmmmm, a little dizzy." She offered him another lovely smile. "But I like it."

Tom sat down next to her and carefully re-buttoned her blouse. "I bet you do. It'll wear off soon."

"Someone drugged me?" There was a hint of the Laura Roslin that he knew and….loved? Well, that he knew anyway. A flat coolness edged its way into her voice as well as a dawning comprehension. "I don't feel so good." Her head drooped to the side.

"Easy," said Tom, tipping her head straight. "Just look at me." He swept a hand over her shoulders.

"I'm going to be sick," Laura announced, standing up on wobbly legs. Tom supported her, led her to the head, and proceeded to hold her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach, rubbing her back all the while. When she was finished, he opened the faucet and filled a cup with water and handed it to her, waiting while she rinsed her mouth.

"You want to lay down?"

She nodded. Tom eased her over to the bed, which she flopped onto in one ungraceful but admittedly adorable motion. There was something oddly endearing about an inebriated Laura Roslin. Somehow, only the upper half of her body made it onto the soft mattress. Tom leaned over and placed his hands on her legs, legs that he'd admired at least a thousand times during those long debates with Baltar. With a half-smile, he placed them onto the bed and covered her with a blanket. Laura closed her eyes.

"You're going to wake up with one hell of a headache," he mused. He slunk down onto the chair across from the bed with a sigh. "And I'm going to have one frakin' back ache." He decided not to think about the other parts of his body that were going to be in distress.

Ellen slid a foot against her husband's leg under the table as she sat across from Saul in the dimly lit bar.

"What's with you tonight?" he complained, withdrawing further back into his chair.

"Oh, Saul, you are so unromantic." She dropped her voice into a liquid caress. "Aren't you feeling even a little bit amorous?"

"It's hard to feel much of anything besides bored out of my mind with Roslin talking business half the night; that woman never stops." Saul drained the last few sips of his wine. "She sure left in a hurry though."

Ellen picked up Laura's glass and peered at the bottom. There was a fine, white powdery residue intermingled with the last remnants of the wine. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she stared at Saul, eyes wide. She released her hand from her mouth and spoke. "Oh my gods, Saul."

"What the frak is wrong with you, woman?"

"I spiked her drink."

"What?"

"With CK. It's a harmless little sex enhancer; it lowers inhibitions." Her voice took on a reflective and almost breezily unapologetic tone. She shrugged. "I guess I must have mixed up the glasses. It was meant for you."

"I don't need any kind of enhancer, thank you very much. And where in seven hells did you get something like that?"

"Oh, come off it, Saul - the same place you get your favorite Aerilon ale – the black market."

"Shhhhh," warned Saul, looking around and lowering his voice.

Ellen rolled her eyes. "What should we do?"

Saul crossed his arms over his chest. "Do? We're not going to do anything. She'll probably just go and sleep it off," he said gruffly. "I certainly don't want to be airlocked for drugging the president."

"What if she doesn't just sleep it off?"

"Oh, come on Ellen. The lady has ice water in her veins. She's not just going to go pick someone up."

"She might."

"You did it; you figure out a solution."

"This is exactly why our marriage is such a mess, Saul. You are completely unsupportive."

"You slipped Roslin a mickey and I'm supposed to be supportive?"

Ellen stood up abruptly, crumpling her napkin and leaving it on the table. "I'll make up some excuse and go check on her."

Saul grabbed her arm in alarm. "You can't tell her you slipped something in her drink."

"Obviously not." Ellen shook his hand off. "I'll handle it."

The colonel watched his wife hurry out of the lounge. "That's what I'm afraid of," he mumbled.

Ellen knocked firmly on Laura's door, "Madame President…Laura?" She waited. Nothing. She knocked again. This time she heard the distinct shuffling of feet.

A disheveled Tom Zarek opened the president's door. Surprised, Ellen Tigh took in a quick puff of air when she saw him, taking in his mussed hair and rumpled clothes.

"Hello, Ellen. What can I help you with?"

Ellen attempted to peer past him into the small quarters while Tom leaned lazily against the door frame. He seemed much too comfortable. This was not a good sign at all. "Mr. Zarek, are you fraking the president?"

Tom chuckled. "Oh, Ellen, you are blunt. It's actually refreshing with all of the double talk that goes on around here."

"You didn't answer my question."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not discuss my sex life."

"Where is she? I need to see her immediately," said Ellen.

"Well, that's going to be a little bit difficult," he said. "She's indisposed." Ellen pushed past him and stepped into the small room. "Hurry up, Laura, and put your clothes on," Tom called jokingly as he shut the door.

Ellen spun around to find Laura, fully dressed, and dozing peacefully.

"For gods sake, Ellen, no – I'm not sleeping with the president. Somebody slipped a pretty good dose of CK into Madame President's drink tonight. Interesting thing is, she was having drinks with you and the colonel. Care to explain?" He stepped toward her accusingly.

Ellen stood her ground. "It was an accident. It was intended for Saul."

Tom smirked. "I'm sure he would have appreciated your efforts."

"Not amusing. Does she know what happened?"

"No. I did explain that I suspected somebody slipped her something - but given her behavior tonight, I'm not sure what she'll remember in the morning. How much did you put in the wine? She was completely toasted."

"Well, it was supposed to be for Saul. Two vials."

"Two vials?"

"He has a high tolerance. It's not dangerous; it's not like she can overdose on it it. It'll just make her - "

"-I know what it does, Ellen."

"Oh, Tom...Maybe you could cover for me?" Ellen smiled sweetly and ran her fingertips across his jawline. "Convince her that she just got a little tipsy?"

"It's going to cost you." Tom crossed his arms over his chest.

Ellen glanced over at Laura sleeping on the bed. "With her in the room? Kinky." She grinned.

"Nothing as sordid as all that. Simply remember Baltar when you vote in the election. And I'm not promising anything."

Ellen eyed Tom suspiciously. "What are you really after, Tom?"

Tom opened the door for Ellen and ushered her out. "Nothing. I'm just being a good citizen."

"You're not going to –"

"Ellen, if I'd wanted to take advantage of Laura, I had ample opportunity. The CK made her sick; I'm just keeping an eye on her."

"Wait a minute. Are you in love with her?"

His answer was too quick. "Hardly. I just like to keep my eye on the opposition. Goodnight, Ellen." He gave her a gentle push and shut the door. But as he glanced warily at Laura's sleeping face, so serene and quiet in the dim room, and framed by endless waves of red hair – he wasn't so sure.

In fact, Tom realized with a sinking heart, he might be in a lot more trouble here than the Tighs.