Salutationsby mondavis
Pairing: Laura/Adama
Rating: PG
Spoilers: You Can't Go Home Again. This takes place some time after the episode but before Litmus.


Ever since taking command of the Galactica, Commander Adama had never been extraordinarily strict on the military protocols outside of CIC. While he expected the utmost discipline from all of his soldiers, he also recognized that his people could do their jobs better if they weren't preoccupied with trying conform to rules that didn't mean a lot in every day life. He would much rather have his people get to where they were going and do what they were doing, than to stop to salute him whenever he crossed their path. Despite this, military training was ingrained in his men and women, it had become the unofficial rule that whenever you personally greeted a superior officer, you saluted.

So when a young petty officer came across the commander and President Roslin walking through the halls, he paused, said good evening and saluted. Barely breaking his stride, Adama snapped off a return salute. When the young officer remained where he was, still in salute, Roslin realized that she was supposed to follow suit. She quickly returned the salute and the officer moved off.

"I think that will always feel awkward," she said as they rounded the corner to the commander's cabin.

"I'll tell them to stop," Adama said as he allowed her to enter ahead of him. He shut the door behind them.

"No, no," the President told him. "It's protocol. Don't make any special dispensations just because I'm still learning about the military." Idly, she picked up a stray book and then set it back down. "It's part of the office. I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to salute them back," Adama told her as he poured them both a glass of water. "It's a misconception that it is a requirement of your Presidency. It's more of a protocol thing because you're Commander-in-Chief but you're not obligated to uphold it."

She accepted the glass and settled onto the sofa. "Ahh, but I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Commander-in-Chief," she clarified. "You are."

Adama frowned into his glass. "The Articles of Colonization say differently."

Roslin fought the urge to look incredulous and instead settled on amused. "The Articles of Colonization made me President and for good or ill, I ceded Commander-in-Chief to you."

He looked at her with a scowl and she could see that she had gotten to him once again. It was beginning to become fun, this sparing game of theirs.

"For good or ill? What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

She held up her hands to calm him. "Sorry," she said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "Bad choice of words. What I mean is that no President before me has given up control of the military the way I have."

"No President before you has faced the near total destruction of our civilization," he reminded her.

"That's true," she said solemnly. "No one has faced this. My point is that you're extraordinarily powerful; more powerful than any military commander in our democratic history. Whenever you want to, all you have to do is say the magic words: 'it's a military decision' and my hands are tied by my agreement with you."

He looked angry now. "You talk as if I do that indiscriminately. I make military decisions because -"

"No one should be taking orders from a school teacher?" the President supplied tartly.

Adama slammed his glass down onto the table and walked away from her. It was times like these when he really couldn't stand her. After a long moment, he said, "I've given you respect."

She stood and moved a little closer to him, arms crossed in front of her. "Yes."

"And I've acknowledged your authority as President."

"Yes."

He fell silent again and then added quietly, "And I abused our agreement to search for Kara."

The President moved beside him and tilted her head into his view. "Yes." He glanced up and saw that her expression was kind, though.

He met her eyes finally. "It won't happen again."

She smiled at him. "Alright."

Adama turned and retrieved their glasses. As he was refilling them, he said, "Don't curl your hand."

The President frowned at him as she undid the buttons of her jacket. "Pardon me?"

"When you salute," he amended. "Don't curl your hand. It makes your elbow drop; ruins the form."

"Really?" She raised her right hand in salute and realized that he was right. "Ok, so how do I do it then?"

Setting the water glasses on the table, Adama came to stand in front of her. In her high heels, he noticed that she was only slightly shorter than he was. She wasn't wearing her glasses today, so he could look directly into her eyes. They were a curious grey … almost blue and maybe a little green, but mostly grey.

"Commander?"

"Oh," he said quickly, trying to cover his lapse. "Keep your hand straight. Your forearm should be completely in line with your fingertips." She adjusted her arm slightly, but he noted that her arm was still dipping. He moved behind her and ran his hand up her arm to her elbow. "Elbow up here," he murmured into her ear.

Laura fought not to shiver. The man standing behind her was aloof, cold, and most of the time acted as if he could barely tolerate her presence. She was the first to admit that the feeling was completely mutual. He was maddening and sometimes she wanted to throw his ass out of the nearest airlock. Yet there was chemistry between them; low and carefully hidden by both of them but there. She didn't know what it was or where it would lead if left unchecked but she could feel it every time they were in a room together and especially if they were alone.

They weren't friends and maybe they never would be, but they definitely had the potential of being something else. And it was that notion that gave her pause in her dealings with him more than anything else.

Laura was not so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice that he had also fallen silent but had not moved from behind her. She could feel the heat from his body all along her back and his breath blew her hair across her cheek.

Slowly, she lowered her arm back to her side. When she did, her hand slipped almost naturally into his. Her heart thumped.

For his part, Adama was fighting a war. There were no Cylons in this one, though. It was a war between what his head was telling him and what his everything else was demanding. He wanted to pull her against him and nuzzle his face into her sweet-smelling hair. If his feelings before this moment had been a remote appreciation of her general loveliness, now he was beginning to feel the burn. He was a man and she was a lovely woman all but in his arms.

But she was also the President and he was her commander.

And this had to stop. Now.

He heard her take a breath, "Command-"

"You smell good," he blurted gruffly. Where had that come from?

He couldn't see her face but he heard her choke off her tiny laugh. He was torn between being angry and embarrassed.

"Thank you." Her soft, sincere tone simultaneously soothed his rancor and quickened his pulse. She turned her fingers until they slipped between his. "You know," she began, "there are bad ideas and there are really bad ideas."

Adama squeezed her fingers and forced his other hand back to his side. It had risen of its own volition to rest lightly at her left hip. "And this is one of the really bad ones," he agreed.

"For so many reasons," she said with a sigh. "If I were just a school teacher …"

"And if I were just a soldier …"

"We'd be doing a lot less talking right now," she laughed and Adama realized that that was one more thing about her that he appreciated. Her sense of humor wasn't as dry and formal as he'd expected. In fact, on the very few occasions where they had been casual enough to joke around, he found her to be downright bawdy. He suspected that after a few drinks the President could probably give Starbuck a run for her money in the dirty joke department.

He laughed with her, briefly but it felt good. With a sigh, he released Laura's hand and stepped away. He headed to the table and picked up his water glass. He guzzled it down, his throat feeling like a desert.

"I guess it would be prudent for me to leave now," the President said quietly. She buttoned her jacket and headed toward the door.

Adama nodded and stepped out into the hallway with her. They walked in silence until they reached CIC, where as was their custom they paused in the hallway before she went on alone, save for her guards, to the shuttle that would take her back to Colonial One.

"I want to know one thing," the commander said. "Do you really think that I hold our … agreement over your head?" Given what had just happened in his quarters, he wondered why he chose now to bring this up again but there it was.

The President's eyes narrowed and she spoke very carefully. He noticed that it was a habit of hers when she was trying not to antagonize him. It was like she was gentling an animal that could attack at any moment.

"I believe you use our agreement to your advantage when you think that it's right." Her voice was quiet but firm. "The problem is when I don't think you're right."

Adama nodded. He had guessed as much. "We'll have to work on that." She nodded to him and turned to leave but he stopped her, his voice booming in the corridor.

"Madame President."

When she turned back to him, Commander Adama pulled himself to full attention and saluted her. Behind him, most of the CIC staff had turned and were also standing in full salute.

With a soft smile on her lips, the President executed a perfect return salute to her commander and his command staff.

"You learn fast," Adama said as she turned to proceed down the corridor.

"Yes, Commander, I do," she called back over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

The End.