Title: Her Hair

Author: BellamortsDaughterNesha

Summary: A contraption found by Kara makes Bill realize what exactly Laura's hair means to him.

Rating: K+

Story Notes: This is my first ever Laura Roslin/Bill Adama fic. I've done a Dances With Wolves one but never a BSG. I'm afraid there is not going to be much talk about Cylons and wars. This focuses entirely on Bill and Laura, particularly on Laura. MIGHT develop into a series of drabbles about Laura from Bill’s point of view.
Spoilers: Probably the time they were in New Caprica but only by mention. Should be settled somewhere late in Season 3 or 4. Established Relationship.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. They do not belong to me or I would have met McAwesome and EJO already.

~*~

William Adama cracked an eye open to look at the counter and check what time it was. He growled lightly as the counter read 0540 and slowly turned in his rack to look towards the head. The strange humming noise had woken him, just like it had waken him for the past three days. It never failed to start at his hour, and he knew it would continue for at least twenty more minutes.

For-feigning sleep for the chance to study a goddess; he got up from his rack, as silent as he could, and went towards the head. Leaning against the entrance, his eyes adjusting to the light coming from above, he took the chance offered. The frakking contraption that woke him up was blowing its hot air on the most beautiful thing in the Universe and at that moment he completely blocked its sound.

Soft dark red tendrils of hair were being blow opposite to the machinery known as a hair blower. The tendrils of hair would stretch when blown and would retract or curl when the air was moved away. Delicate hands would move the semi wet curls to the side, blow some air into it, and moved it aside so air could be blown to another set of curls. If the light caught it right, the hair would look redder than brown imitating the color it originally had before the Doloxin treatments. Soft moans of delight, probably of the combination of air and fingers threading through hair, came from the woman in front of him.

Anyone else would look at the site and not look at it as a work of art. Many could not appreciate what those red tendrils of hair meant, but he knew better. Those soft curls meant that Laura Roslin, the woman, was healthy, alive, and fighting. That red color meant that he would have her one more day, brightening his days.

His eyes traveled from teh long curls towards the face he could see even with his eyes closed. Her eyes were closed, still sleepy even though she just had a shower. Her nose was a little scrounged, her lips grinned from the sensations she was experimenting. Even though she didn't have a drop of make up on she was still the most beautiful woman to him.

"Are you going to help me or are you going to stare at me again?" Her voice interrupted any train of thought he could have.

Bill gave a small smile before moving inside. His fingers wrapped around the hair blower, brushing against hers. The fingers of his other hand threaded through the thick curls and started parting it before moving the machine to blow air unto it. He was rewarded with another soft moan. "So this is what has been waking me up? How did you acquire it President?"

"You will have to ask Starbuck that question." She said, her eyes slipping close again as she leaned into his touch. "She gave it to me as a 'get well' gift but I never had the opportunity to use it in New Caprica."

His smile dropped, New Caprica was still a sore subject. He continued his work, parting and blowing, and inhaling the scent that he knew was just her. He continued even when her hair was dried. He continued until Laura's hand gently took hold of his, stopping the movement and switching off the machine with the movement of one delicate finger. His eyes made contact with hers via his mirror. "Are you alright, Bill?"

He continued looking at her image. A smile curled on his lips. He didn't answer; he simply gave a small nod and lowered his hand so that he could place the blower on the sink. One last pass of his fingers through her hair and he stepped back only to exit the head.

He knew she would not relent, he knew that she would follow him and demand an answer in the sweet way only she could and which tore the secrets out of his very soul.

"Admiral William Adama." He was already waiting for her, standing in the arc of his private quarters and his office. "President Laura Roslin." He sent back to her, a small, very rare, teasing tone in his voice.

"Bill." She tried again as she settled in front of his body, her hand over his heart, his hand on her hip.

"Your hair." He simply stated as his other hand touched the curled end of her long cherry toned hair. Her eyes sparkled begging him to continue. "Just your hair."

She frowned, not understanding. He didn't blame her for not understanding either.

"Life." He said as he touched it again. There were no other words to explain it, no words that even he, a well read man, could find.

It took her a beat of her heart to understand what he meant, a beat to fully comprehend what the site of her hair meant to him, what the site of her hair should mean to her.

"Life." she repeated.

Life.

~*~

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