Written for the 'last drinks' challenge.
Laura reached around to tuck the blanket tighter against her back, missing the warmth she usually felt.
"Bill?" she mumbled, peering across at the chronometer. Surely 200 hours wasn't correct, she thought, fumbling around on the shelf for her glasses.
"Go back to sleep."
She blinked up at Bill, now standing beside the rack, wearing a pair of tanks and blue uniform pants.
"What's wrong? Is there an emergency. Cavil-"
"Everything's okay. I just can't sleep. Thought I'd go for a run."
"A run?" She struggled to sit up, confused.
"Maybe not a run. A jog."
"A jog? You don't jog."
He shrugged. "Run, jog, trot, whatever."
"It's a big ship," she reminded him gently.
He chuckled. "I won't be long."
"What time is it?"
"Early morning," he replied.
She frowned. Military training usually meant Bill was more precise. She'd also never known him to have insomnia.
"Kiss me," she ordered.
He grumbled but obediently bent to brush his lips along her cheek. As he did she moved quicker than either of them thought possible, grasping one of his hands in one of hers. With her free hand she reached up and felt his forehead. He was cool and clammy.
"I'm not contagious," he rumbled. "I wouldn't... Your immune system..."
"But..."
A shudder ran through his body. The hand she was holding began to jerk around uncontrollably.
"I just need to keep busy."
Suddenly, it dawned on her.
"You haven't had a drink..."
"Maybe not even a trot," he joked, ignoring her revelation. "More of a shuffle."
She grinned broadly. "I could always call Lee. Ask him if he'd come over and spar. Kill two birds at once."
She released his hand and snuggled down into the rack again. As he headed for the hatch, she softly added, "About time."
The End