Hot summer Friday nights always bring in a large crowd to JJ's restaurant. The balcony is filled with diners, the band is warming up, and patrons form a line outside hoping to snag a table or a seat at the bar for a night of great food and lively dancing. With Sandra spending the night in Willow's dorm room and Cheryl spending the weekend with Persephone, Dave joins Bill and Laura for dinner, getting some much-needed grandpa time with baby Emilee. Afterwards, he drives to the restaurant, dons an apron, and offers his highly skilled busboy services to the incredibly demanding owner of the establishment. Her expectations of her workers are among the highest in the industry. Her expectations of her lover are even higher.
At approximately 9 pm, the crowd becomes more manageable with people mostly ordering drinks and appetizers due to the later hour. Dave works hard to bus the tables, clean the floors around them, keep the restrooms clean and restocked, and help with washing dishes when needed. Like other times he has worked in the past, he notices how Jen thrives under the high pressure of noisy, hungry, and thirsty patrons. He admires her ability to handle every crisis that comes her way with a smile and a satisfying solution while still maintaining a pleasurable atmosphere for the customers.
After tending to the restroom for the fourth time, he decides to grab a clean apron from her office, the initial one stained with leftover food and spilled beer from bussing so many tables. Most of the customers probably wouldn't notice, but he knows Jen will and he doesn't want to get on her bad side. He respects her too much to project a poor image, even as a volunteer busboy.
The cabinet with clean aprons is located inside and behind the door of her office along with a clothes hamper that holds the dirty ones. Tossing the soiled one inside, he opens the cabinet to find two clean aprons, both the half-apron style the wait staff wears instead of the full-apron style the bussing crew wears.
"I wondered where you disappeared to," she says, walking into her office with a spring in her step.
"I need a clean apron, but it doesn't look like you have any."
"I haven't had time to put them away yet." She walks to the mini fridge behind her desk where a large stack of clean, folded aprons sits on top. Picking them up, she takes them to the cabinet, telling Dave to grab one before she sets the rest inside.
"Jen, you're amazing. I don't know how you can work so hard and keep your energy level up. Even when you deal with an angry customer, you always have a smile on your face and put them at ease. I really admire and respect you, and I'm not just saying that because we're dating."
"You are an incredibly sweet man, and I love that about you," she says, giving him a long, sensual kiss. "This is the first place we ever flirted, remember that?" she asks with a grin.
"You mean my awkward reaction?" he laughs.
"Again, very sweet. I knew you could be all sorts of trouble for me."
"Our relationship is trouble? News to me." Pulling her close, he caresses her back while returning the favor of an even longer, passionate kiss.
A mischievous grin spreads across her face as her thoughts turn to kissing him again. "Our relationship is going to be trouble if we don't leave this office soon, because I may break one of my rules if we stay any longer."
"What rule is that?"
"The one where I promised myself we wouldn't frak at work."
"Right here? Right now?" he murmurs as he looks around the room before nibbling on the delicate skin on her neck, something he knows will drive her crazy.
"You're so much trouble," she complains before grabbing his face and kissing him hard, the temperature between them spiking to an insane level. "I feel things for you that I shouldn't be feeling while I'm trying to work. And whoever decided to put snaps on this shirt instead of buttons is a genius." She yanks it open, smoothing her hands up his chest, pushing the garment from his shoulders. It falls to the floor, crumpling at their feet, while her hands slide down his back and around his waist to his belt buckle. Reaching behind her, he locks the door as she drops to her knees, pulling his pants and boxers with her.
Sandra managed to avoid Jeff the entire rest of the week, except for a brief encounter where she literally bumped into him in the student union Thursday. They both fell to the floor, Jeff then helping her up and looking her over to make sure she wasn't injured. When he asked if her incisions were okay, she flashed back to his lips on her sutures in her dream, freaked out, and turned and fled from him. Later she sent him a text, apologizing for her abrupt departure, and stating it was because she had somewhere else to be. That somewhere else was anywhere away from him and his big brown eyes, dimples, broad shoulders, and sensual lips.
She's had a couple more dreams about him, having sex in a variety of positions, half of which she never knew existed until she read the Aphrodite book her father had loaned her. Jeff always knows what he's doing in her dreams, but he has to give her instructions, being the inexperienced young woman that she is when it comes to sex. Her previous boyfriends preferred her flat on her back with her legs wide open, only taking them a few minutes to finish. It was unsatisfying and utterly disappointing to her. The only other position was when she was on her knees giving oral, another unsatisfying experience.
Dream sex with Jeff is very different. Her body responds in ways it never has before, ways she hopes to experience some day. She never achieved an orgasm with her boyfriends. They never lasted long enough and made no effort to make it pleasurable for her. But dream Jeff makes it his mission to satisfy her, make her feel wanted, cherished. Dream Jeff hungers for her and is only satiated when she's writhing and screaming his name in pleasure.
She explains all of this to Willow, who listens with fascination, even jotting down a few notes.
"Alright, what's your analysis of my dreams?" Sandra finally asks her.
"Hmmm, hard to say. On the one hand, you're horny, and you're having horny dreams. And he's a guy that you've spent a lot of time with, so, naturally, he's the guy satisfying you in your horny dreams," Willow explains.
"Makes sense."
Then Willow changes her tone. "On the other hand, you could be deeply in love with him but too stubborn to admit it and do anything about it. It's all pent up inside of you and now it's leaking into your dreams. And the only way to deal with it is to invite him over some night and frak his brains out." She claps her hands in encouragement, preferring this interpretation over the former.
"You're not helping," Sandra says, rolling her eyes.
"Ah-ha! You're not denying it! If you weren't in love with him, you'd tell me to frak off. But you didn't do that. You love him." Willow appears quite satisfied with her conclusion.
"He's my best friend - of course I love him! I even told him that last Tuesday. And now that I think about it, that's when my dreams started."
"Very interesting. You should frak him and find out."
"I'm not supposed to frak on the first date," Sandra reminds her.
"This is an exception. You've already spent lots of time together, so all that time counts as at least a dozen dates. You can frak him."
"But he's my friend! I don't think it's smart to frak a good friend."
"Friends with benefits, ever hear of that? You can still be friends and satisfy each other's urges. And you're a good kisser."
"I don't know, I think frakking could ruin a friendship. And it's not like I have a ton of friends so I can't afford to lose one. You really think I'm a good kisser?"
"I know you are. When you pushed me against the wall and kissed me when Kyle was in the hallway? That was hot. Your lips are full but firm. Good kissing lips. And I'm sure guys would like those lips in other places, too, if you know what I mean."
"My high school boyfriend said I was terrible at oral," Sandra says, ashamed.
"Guys that say that are gaslighting you," Willow replies as if it's no big deal. "As long as he came, you were doing just fine. He probably was the type that only feels better by putting other people down. Did he ever compliment you on anything?"
"Never! He told everyone I was easy but a garbage lay. The really pathetic thing is that I was upset when he dumped me for my supposed best friend. Gods I was stupid." Now that she's describing her relationship with Theo aloud, she realizes how naïve she was back then, and how much she has changed since starting college last fall.
Willow can empathize about being in a regrettable relationship. She stares at Sandra, seeing the look of disgust on her face about being involved with a guy that treated her so poorly. It's time to change the subject. "Sooo, Jeff. He's cute? And nice?"
The mere mention of his name brings a smile to Sandra's face. "Yes and yes. He's sweet. I thought he was such a dork at first, but somehow he grew on me and we became good friends. He knew about my past before you did. But…" Her nervous habit of fidgeting with her hands reappears.
"But what?"
"I don't know," she sighs. "He's so great that I feel like I don't deserve him. I can be friends with him, but I think he deserves someone better than me when it comes to romance. I'm not good enough for him."
Sandra's reasons sound very familiar to Willow. "Why would you say something like that? Why don't you think you deserve a great guy? What is it about you that isn't good enough for him?"
"I don't know how to explain it."
"Do you feel like you can only be with guys who treat you like shit? Because if that's how you feel, believe me, I've been there. I was convinced I would wind up with a drunk, violent man like my dad, but now I know better. You deserve a great guy. You're good enough for anyone."
"Mmm, I guess."
"Wait, wait," Dave says softly after dressing again, pulling Jen toward him before she can leave the room, a look of pure satisfaction on his face from her eager trip below his belt. "Where're you going? I haven't returned the favor," he informs her, gently pushing her up against the door and moving his face to barely an inch in front of hers. Resting his palm against her cheek, he stares into her eyes, still darkened with passion, while his thumb brushes over her mouth, pulling her lower lip down slightly.
"David Roslin, you are trouble with a capital T," she whispers breathlessly, longing for his touch, catching her breath when he hikes up her skirt and places a hand between her legs. "We need to get back to work," she says, but her words lack any real conviction.
"You don't sound so sure," he says, hesitating about following through with his intentions. "I know how much your work means to you, so if you'd prefer to wait until later, then we can do that. I don't want to get into trouble for distracting the boss because I'm having sexual relations with her," he says wryly. "That's grounds for immediate termination."
Recognizing her commitment to her business, understanding that it's her livelihood, and offering to let their feelings simmer until they get off work makes her love him even more. "Oh, honey, the things I want you to do to me right now…" She shakes her head as her voice trails off, staring at him with bedroom eyes. "But we do need to get back to work. With a little luck, we can leave early since KC's here tonight."
"Alright," he says, removing his hand from beneath her skirt. After slipping the apron on and tying it in place, they leave her office and walk down the hallway to the dining room.
Jen glances around the area, sizing up the work that needs to be done. "Tables 3, 6, and 10 need to be bussed. Looks like there's a spill at 9. Don't forget to check the balcony and give the dishwasher a hand if he's getting behind. If you're too busy to check the restrooms in 15 minutes, let me know and I'll cover it for you. Got that, hun?"
"Got it." He gives her a wink as she walks away.
The buzzing of Bill's phone alarm at 6 am Monday morning makes him groan. Laura's sound asleep with one arm stretched across his chest while she lies on her stomach in the bed next to him. They're both still naked, not bothering to put pajamas on after an intense night of making love before collapsing and falling into a deep sleep. At least he's a good kind of tired this morning.
Emilee is quiet, so he takes a shower, shaves, then puts on his boxer briefs, tanks, and socks, but not his uniform. Better to cover with a robe since Laura's still sleeping and Emilee is now babbling to herself in her crib. A few times recently when he changed her, she peed all over the place, including on him, before he got the new diaper into place. Smelling like baby pee his first day back will surely make him a target of Saul's jokes.
"Or maybe that's not baby pee. Maybe you're the one who should be wearing diapers," Saul might say to him, laughing at himself. He hopes his best friend will find out someday that being urinated on by your own baby is part of the job of being a father and nothing to be embarrassed about. Even though Saul has stopped talking about his and Ellen's efforts to have their own child, Bill can sense his disappointment that they haven't been successful in getting pregnant.
"There you go, precious," Bill says as he pulls the wet diaper from her and cleans her bottom, then slathers balm on her before placing the new diaper. "You were good for daddy this morning. Didn't even try to pee on me. It's time to go see mommy, isn't it," he says when she pulls her foot to her mouth and sucks on her big toe.
Laura's still lying face down on the bed, her arm stretched over the spot Bill vacated 30 minutes ago. She hasn't had a nightmare in several days and is still in a deep slumber, Bill having trouble rousing her from it. Finally, her head pops up, hair spilling over her eyes and down her face.
"Mmhhmmm, what time is it?" she grumbles.
"Just after 6:30. Someone's hungry."
"Ow. Never sleep on your chest when you're breastfeeding," she says rolling to her side. "Hurts. Too much milk."
"Here's the solution," he says, placing Emilee next to her on the bed.
"Am I a cow, Bill? Is that all I am to her?"
"No," he smiles in the way he does when he wants her to know how much he adores her. "You are her entire world."
"And you, too," she replies.
"But not when I'm at work. And I need to leave soon." He sighs watching his little girl nurse eagerly at Laura's breast. Soft red curls, big blue eyes, porcelain skin. He'll miss the sound of her cries when she's hungry, her babbling when she's playing with her toys, the drooling smiles when she sees his face. The first time she ever laughed was when she saw his cheeks covered in shaving cream. Such a loud, hearty laugh coming from a little girl. She made him melt that day.
Once Em's finished nursing, Laura brings her to the kitchen, where Bill sits at the table eating his breakfast and drinking coffee. "Does she need to be burped?" he asks.
"No, I took care of it. I don't think she was very impressed with my burping abilities, though. It's like she knows something's up today."
Emilee looks toward her father, her lower lip sticking out like she might start crying. "Let me take her," he says holding his arms out. Immediately Em's expression changes to one of contentment, staring at her daddy's face and grabbing at his nose. "Oh, precious, I'm going to miss you today. And you're mommy, too. Don't grow up too much before I get home. Laura, are you crying?"
"Oh, gods, yeah, I am," she sniffles. "We're going to miss you. And then I'll be doing this in a few months, too. I'm sorry, I need to grab a tissue and dry my eyes," she says before walking back to the bedroom.
"So, precious, I need you to help daddy out," he whispers, Emilee watching his face with big blue eyes. "Mommy's going to take care of you today, but can you help take care of mommy, too? As soon as I get home from work, I'll give both of you a big hug, and then I can hold you and read stories the rest of the night." He places a soft kiss to her forehead and when he pulls back, Emilee's lip is sticking out again. "I know, I wish I could stay."
"Alright, Bill, I'm not going to make a big scene when you leave because if I do, she will know for sure something's different and she'll cry all day. And then I'll cry, too. Are you ready to get dressed?"
"No, but I have to. I need to leave in five minutes," he says glumly.
"I'll take her."
He places Emilee in Laura's arms, who immediately distracts her with some happy faces and kisses while Bill returns to the bedroom to slip into his uniform. Three minutes later he walks back to the kitchen, fully dressed, briefcase in hand.
"Guess what, Emilee?" Laura says in a happy voice. "We get to practice waving goodbye today. Let daddy give us a kiss, then I'll help you wave bye-bye."
Emilee's eyes move from her mother's face to Bill, who stands proud in his uniform with his shoulders back, something he does without having to think about it. When he leans down to kiss each of them, Emilee grabs a fistful of his jacket, refusing to let go.
"It's okay, daddy will be home later. I'll read you lots of stories tonight," he says as he gently tries to pry her hand from him. As soon as he's free from her grip, her breath comes in gasps, and when he moves to the door, tears roll down her cheeks.
"It's okay, sweetie, daddy will be back before you know it. Bill, you should…" Laura nods her head to the door rather than finish the sentence.
"Bye-bye," he waves, then steps into the hallway. Before he can slide the door shut, Emilee's sad cry pierces his ears. Dropping his chin to his chest, he closes the door and walks away, his shoulders drooped from the heavy emotions of leaving his daughter for the first time.
"Look at you," Saul says, standing at attention when Bill walks into the office area. "The proud father returns to the workplace. Ready to get back at it?"
"At ease," Bill says, appreciating Saul's effort at being formal even though it falls very short of proper military protocol.
Bill opens the door to his office, sighing when he sees three large piles of paperwork on his desk. "Don't suppose you could brief me?"
"It's not as bad as it looks." Saul explains that one pile is finished reports that Bill can review at his leisure. Another contains reports from other colonies that are also low priority. The third pile contains current requests, ordered by what Saul considers the most urgent. "I can walk you through those fairly quickly. There hasn't been anything dire since you've been gone."
"Good. Did you go on that mission with the liaison from Virgon, what's his name?"
"Major Daskalakis. Yeah, I went. He's a dumb motherfrakker. How does a moron like that get to be in charge?" Saul grouses.
"His uncle's a commander."
"Pfft, figures. You either have to know someone, be related to someone, or frak someone."
"Or be really good at what you do," Bill replies, giving him a stern look.
"Right, you're the exception. Well, I think I'd rather work for you than be stuck on Virgon with those idiots. Most of them are newbies and didn't even serve in the war. Looks like a gods damn elementary school over there!"
"That's what happens after a war. Soldiers and pilots figure out they can make more in the merchant fleet, so most of the good ones leave the military. Present company excluded, of course."
"Ahh, I 'spose. It's good to have you back, Bill."
It takes most of the morning to get through half of the reports. They break for lunch, Bill already feeling the fatigue of being away from home and eyestrain from looking through several months of paperwork. Pulling out his phone, he types a simple text to Laura: Miss you.
She responds with a phone call. They chat for a few minutes while Bill waits for his lunch delivery. Emilee occasionally cries in the background, enough that he suggests they do a video call so she can see his face. That's the reasoning he uses with Laura, although he's feeling rather fussy himself and would like to see his daughter. They decide against it, instead hoping to get Emilee used to a routine of him being gone during the day, then home at night.
"Can you send me a photo of her?" he asks.
Seconds later an image arrives of Emilee with red cheeks and watery eyes.
"Sorry, she's been crying most of the morning. She'll get used to this," Laura assures him. "Probably around the time I have to go back to work and she's stuck in a daycare without either of us. Then she'll be upset all over again. But she'll be fine. I think it's almost harder on us than it is on her."
"You got that right," Bill sighs. "You doing okay?"
"I'm fine. She's fussy, but I'm dealing with it. I'm looking forward to her taking a long nap this afternoon. It's exhausting without you here. How do single parents do it?"
They end the call when Bill's food arrives, Saul joining him in his office for lunch. He notices the frown on his friend's face and decides to bring it to his attention. "What the frak, Bill? You still moping about having to leave your family today?"
"You'll find out someday. When you and Ellen start your family, you won't ever want to leave the house again. Probably come in here barking out orders and taking it out on everyone around you. At least I'm not making a scene."
"Pfft, I don't think I want a family if it's gonna turn me into a giant pile of mush like you."
"Says the man who wears a girly hat and holds his pinky out at pretend tea parties with my little sister-in-law. And I'm not a giant pile of mush."
"Ahhh, I know, I'm just messing with you, trying to get you to snap out of it. Yell at me, throw me out of your office, do something other than mope."
"Look," Bill says holding his phone out with the photo of Emilee that Laura just sent. "She's been crying all morning because I'm gone."
"Ahhh, geez, Bill, now I'm gonna start moping! Just look at that little face, she's so sad! Gods," Saul exclaims, shaking his head about how the photo has him depressed now, too. "We need to talk about something else."
"I agree." Bill sinks his teeth into the second half of his sandwich, giving Saul an expectant look. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"I thought you were going to change the subject. I can't because all I can think about is Emilee."
"Oh. She's all I'm thinking about right now, too. Don't suppose you wanna get a drink after work?"
"No. I'm going straight home."
"Right. Well," Saul says, trying to figure out a subject that isn't baby or work-related. "How are Laura's nipples? Are they still sore?"
"You're asking me about my wife's nipples? That's all you can think of?"
"I feel bad, Bill, and I know she's still mad at me."
He pulls his phone away from Saul so he can send Laura a text.
"What're you doing?"
"I just texted her to let her know you asked if her nipples are still sore," Bill replies. A few seconds pass, then Bill receives another photo from Laura.
"Well, what'd she say?" Saul asks while Bill stares longingly at the risqué picture that his friend will never lay eyes on.
The only thing he misses as much as his daughter is the alone time he and Laura had during the day when Emilee napped. They always made good use of it – reading to each other, cuddling, making out, making love, enjoying each other in every way possible.
"Her nipples are fantastic." Laura's naked breasts just snapped him out of his funk.