misscam | Sleeping With Your Laundry [Adama/Roslin]

Sleeping With Your Laundry
by Camilla Sandman

Summary: Bill Adama and Laura Roslin are definitely not doing laundry when Lee Adama walks in on them. [Adama/Roslin, Lee.]

Rating: Teen. Adult actitives.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

Author's Note: For

falena84, who dared me to write Lee walking in on Adama and Roslin, and I take my dares seriously, yes. Set some time after "Escape Velocity". A great big thanks as always to my smashing beta,

lyricalviolet.

II

Once, Laura remembers, she walked in on her neighbour's parents. Too young to understand, she listened intently to the explanation of the mother having a sudden desire to wash all the clothes, including those she and Mr. Ackle were wearing. Laundry, Mrs Ackle would insist, cheeks flustered. Just doing laundry.

Laura didn't quite believe that.

It took her ten years to realise sex is better than laundry and that sometimes, lies aren't meant to be believed.

They're just the buffer.

II

Bill Adama and Laura Roslin are definitely not doing laundry when Lee Adama walks in on them.

Her fingers in Bill's hair, naked skin to naked skin, her body buckling as he thrusts, she's so lost in it that it takes at least ten seconds before she even realises they have company.

Lee, her brain registers. Lee is standing in the middle of the room, some papers in his hand and an expression on his face as if a Cylon ran over his Viper. Lee is standing in the middle of the room and his father is in the middle of frakking her and very soon they're going to be in the middle of new definitions of awkward and oh, oh, frak.

"Bill," she says urgently, and he turns slightly to follow her gaze and freezes mid-breath as father and son look at each other.

The Adama look of surprise is fairly similar, she notes.

For what seems an eternity, they're a frozen tableau - the President and the Admiral on the couch, the Quorum delegate on the floor, as if he's bringing an objection to the table.

It's she who finally reacts, and it's to laugh. It seems too late for presidential dignity, especially when her clothes are out of reach, the blanket is too tangled to easily use for cover, Bill is still hard inside her and his hands are halfway up her naked back. Not even Baltar's skill at distortion could describe this as anything but caught in the act, she's pretty sure.

She steadies herself a little against Bill's chest, feeling her laughter being echoed by a low, throaty chuckle from him. She doesn't dare look into his face until she's composed herself slightly, but when she finally looks up, he's smiling. Beautifully, almost child-like, he smiles and Lee or no Lee, she has to return that smile.

"I should come back later," Lee says loudly, and from the corner of her eye, she can see his face still has the same expression, as if he's forgotten to change it.

"Yes," she has the voice to agree. She waits until she hears the door open and close until she starts laughing again, as much as she can with breath already strained. Bill just watches her, a hand on her flushed cheek and eyes so bright it's hard to look away.

"Oh my Gods," she mutters, shaking her head a little. "How did he..."

"He's my son. The guards probably didn't think much about letting him in," Bill says, and she nods a little. "I'll talk to him."

"I think I have to too," she says softly. "Gods... What an image."

Bill just smiles, and she feels her breath catch a little as she moves slightly, changing the angle between their bodies.

"Don't tell me it was worth it to hear me laugh like this," she says, half-accusingly, half-laughing.

"I won't," he says, and his kiss is soft and lingering. "I'll think it."

II

It takes a week to get a meeting with Lee Adama without drawing attention or interrupting her treatments, but as she sits behind her desk and he behind a mask of controlled neutrality, she almost wishes it had been a week later. Or a month. Maybe a year.

Maybe after her death. That would have been a convenient time. At least then she wouldn't have a stupid urge to giggle, as if she is up for a debate and not awkward explanations to a pseudo-stepson.

"Dad's already talked to me," Lee says calmly, voice so neutral she'd almost prefer hostility.

"I'm sure the Admiral has," she says softly. "I just want to..."

"Bill," Lee interrtupts.

"What?"

"Call him Bill, unless you're frakking the Admiral and not my father," Lee says, but the anger in his voice doesn't seem targeted at her. Past relationship, she wonders. Lee's mother? Lee's own experiences?

"Bill," she agrees. "I'm no good at military protocol, remember?"

The smile is gone so fast she's almost sure she imagined it, but at least Lee seems to relax a little. He eases back in the chair, looking straight at her for the first time since he came in.

"How long?" he asks, and she straightens up.

"That is none of your business," she says firmly, but Lee shakes his head.

"Not that. How long do you have to live?"

For a moment, it feels like a punch to the stomach, even with all she's tried to prepare everyone else and herself for it. She's pretty sure her mask slips for a moment, because Lee looks apologetic.

"I don't know," she replies honestly, and he nods slowly. "Bill doesn't want to face it."

"Dad's not great at letting go."

"Yeah," she agrees, thinking about all the lies humans tell themselves. Happy endings, morals, love conquers all. "I noticed."

"He's not great at letting in either," Lee continues. "He could have... I shouldn't have to walk in to know he's... He should have told me."

She doesn't say anything, just watches his face and all the emotion flickering across it, as if he's still deciding what to feel.

"I know what I should see. The President in bed with the military." He shakes head his head slightly. "The fleet... The fleet would see that."

"What do you see?" she asks.

"My dad smiling," Lee says, and he too smiles, half sad and half joy. So unlike the father, and yet... Yet so much the son. "You make him smile."

"Lee..." she starts, but isn't even sure what she's going to say.

"I saw my father smile," Lee says, voice clear. "That's all I saw."

She nods, knowing he'll stick to that. He's Lee. That's what he does. For better or worse or annoyance, that's Lee.

Sleep with the father, she thinks, and get the son too. Adamas. They come as a family package, the fine print in the contract. Accept both, or go for refund.

Mm.

"That's all you saw," she agrees. "Thank you, delegate Apollo."

"Madam President."

After he leaves, she sits in silence for a long time, thinking about all the futures she probably won't have, but in this time and this place, can almost see still.

II

Bill's half asleep when she slips under the covers next to him, but his body moves to make room within seconds still, as if he's already used to the space she takes beside him and doesn't have to think.

He lets out a slow exhale when she kisses the side of his chin, slipping his arms around her.

"I didn't think you'd come tonight," he murmurs, voice low and sleepy.

"Mm," she says, tracing the line of his shoulder. "Tory thinks I'm having another treatment. Doc Cottle thinks I'm recovering from one. I lied a bit."

"At least you won't have to lie to Lee anymore."

"I do," she replies, smiling a little as Bill just looks confused. "He'll just know that I am."

Sometimes, lies aren't meant to be believed, she knows. They're just the buffer, because truth can take a while to digest.

Not just for Lee, she thinks, biting down on Bill's lip as he kisses her hard. Not just for Bill. For all of them.

Bill Adama and Laura Roslin definitely do laundry that night too.

FIN

Current Mood: loved
Current Location: Norway

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From:

the-justiner.livejournal.com

This was gorgeous, funny, and very well-written! :D

From:

The wise Viking knows when to retreat to the longboat

Sleeping With Your Laundry [Adama/Roslin]

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