Prompt: things we said when we were the happiest we ever were

Set: Founder's Day on New Caprica

The stars are beginning to swim, glowing tails dancing, melting into the velvet blackness above him, and the noise of the party is fading, the music and laughter and gleeful shouts dimming, and somehow Laura's head is on his shoulder, her rich red hair bare inches from his lips, her cool hand resting on his chest.

Bill won't deny that the world is a little hazy just now (he doubts the stars are anything by stationary points of light; the party may well be going strong) but even so, he's fairly certain that there was no sharp delineation, no distinct moment of choice between Laura lying next to him and Laura halfway on top of him. He is sure he didn't resort to any subterfuge about needing her closer so her sight line could pick out a particular star pattern; he is almost positive she invented no pretext about the chill of the night air. They are just here, together, as though they've always been this way, as though (a voice in his mind whispers) they always could be.

"So what's this cabin of yours going to look like?"

Her hand is moving lazily, fingers absently tracing a pattern across the thick material of his uniform. "Nothing fancy," she informs him. "Just a few balconies…a pool…maybe a topiary garden…"

She laughs, and it feels so good, to hear her so free, so light, that he can't resist brushing his lips, just barely, against the top of her head. Her hair smells different on this planet, clean air and fresh dirt and whatever soap they've invented, a spicy undertone he can't quite place, and he wants to bury his face in those curls, let that scent permeate his being.

She tilts her head up a little, and her knowing smile makes his mouth go dry. "I just want a home," she says, emphasizing the word in a way that makes him ache. "Not a curtained-off space on Colonial One, not a tent in the mud…just four walls and a roof."

"No floor?" he teases.

"Good point," she agrees. "Add a floor."

His fingers skim her shoulder, her skin warm beneath that glorious red dress, the dress he'd thought she'd worn for the party, but is beginning to suspect was for him, instead.

"How big is it going to be?"

"I don't need much room," she decides. "Just enough space for a real bed, and a desk, and a few books…"

His hand stills. "Not planning on many visitors?" he asks, trying to keep his tone light.

"Many, no." She pauses. "But maybe a select few. If they made time to visit."

"It would be safest to build it for two people, then," he observes. "That way you won't have to worry about it getting too crowded."

Her lips quirk, and she leans closer, her cheek smooth against his. "That's a very good point."

"The real question is how we'll keep the rain out," he reflects, fighting a losing battle against the stupid smile threatening at the edge of his lips. "I hear it rains quite a bit here…"

"Mmm," Laura agrees. "We wouldn't want that nice floor to get soggy."

"You could probably use mud bricks for the walls, but we're going to want something drier for the roof," he muses. "What's the timber situation like?"

"Not too promising," Laura admits. "But the tarps are keeping out the worst of the rain, at least so far…"

"Maybe there's something in one of my history books," he guesses. "Maybe something about building technologies in ancient civilizations…"

Laura laughs, the sound rich and soothing in his ear. "Maybe."

Maybe this really is how he'll spend all the rest of his days.