A/N: Setting is Kobol, the first night after Bill Adama relents and goes after Laura and the other believers in the prophesies . Early in S2.

Warning for references to violence, sex, language

Disclaimer: I own nothing, receive nothing, just playing with the creations of others

Apologies for the Milli Vanilli reference.

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Blame it on the Rain

Remember the first time you fell asleep while watching TV, next to the person that might or might not be romance material, and it was awkward, but kinda cool, and sorta sexy, and pretty funny, in a way? And nobody was quite sure where the hands went?

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Laura used to love the rain. When she and her sisters were very young, before Dad started making the good money, the three girls shared a bedroom. Just for a little while, until they could move into a bigger place. For a just that while, though, hard Caprica downpours, the ones that came in winter, meant all three burrowing into Laura's bed, one on each side, as they listened to the rain flash against the house in sheets. Sometimes they pretended they were princesses hiding in the woods from an evil King, or seeking a great treasure, shushing each other as they stifled their giggles.

Laura was the one who always had to bring them back out of the enchanted forests, off the pirate ship, back to the double bed that was getting too small, as she whispered sleep-talk, guiding them to sleep as the rain fell. It wasn't every night…she would have flunked her courses if every night included a squirming body on each side of her. It was just on the heavy rain nights.

She frowned at the irony of having turned her nose up at a crowded double bed that had dry sheets, warm blankets, and four walls and a roof. She'd give a lot for any one of those things now. Her water-spotted glasses were by her head, bouncing the odd falling water drop onto her face. The tarp kept her (barely) from lying in puddles and mud, but it still collected the leaks from the seams of the lean-to. With the sun down, and being so high up, her damp skin began to chill under her heavy sweater and jeans.

"You okay?"

At least her back seemed to be getting some radiant heat from the hot-tempered Commander. She came close to snorting over the mental picture of snuggling up against the iron-faced Adama. The frakking forgiving Adama. The sheer incongruity of that image brought a few stifled giggles to keep it company.

Since he'd shown up, all glares and guns, she'd not been able to tell if he was ready to jack-slap someone or give them a hug. Or throw someone to the ground in a stranglehold…. No, the Commander was not her idea of a snuggle-bunny. Tom would have been better for that, she thought, if she'd been looking. And that image pushed her into silent giggles that made her shoulders shake.

A rough hand was light on her shoulder. "Hey. You okay, Roslin?"

She could feel him shifting closer, speaking in a whispered rumble. Oh, Gods, he probably thought she was crying or something. She could hear the note of concern in his question.

"I'm fine, Commander. Just a stray thought."

"Speak up or turn over. You're talking towards the trees."

Well, maybe it'd put her out of range of the leak over her forehead. She shifted onto her other side, and found her face awkwardly close to his throat. She crooked her neck, bringing her mouth near his ear.

"I said, I had a funny thought."

She could feel him stiffen. "This is a joke to you?"

"No, no…I was thinking how much I liked listening to the rain when I was a girl. You know…in a house, in a bed. Sounded a lot nicer when I was warm and dry."

She felt him relax, leaning a bit towards her. He curved one arm over her head, making some space, curling his other arm into his chest between them, matching hers. She smiled as she got a whiff of musky tang and ship soap through the heavy camo fatigues.

"Gods, a dry rack would feel good right now." His sigh would have made her bangs flutter if they hadn't been close to water-logged against her forehead. His breath was dry and warm, though. That was nice.

"I thought you pilots were trained to withstand all kinds of discomfort. They seem fine." She nodded her head back towards the lean-to Kara and Lee had set up at some distance. There were whispers and Kara's raspy laugh and the rattle of metal against teeth.

"They're thirty years younger. Makes a difference."

And he'd never tell her this, but her breathing right at his neck, right onto his frakking throat, was making a difference, too. He wished he'd had a woman to do that to him, back when life was simpler and approachable women had still been possible.

He hadn't thought about sleeping planet-side when they came down after his little Presidential renegade and her runaway band. That Sharon-thing wasn't leaving Helo's side, and he wasn't having her near the President. He wasn't sure what the Chief's and Zarek's arrangements were but doubted either would be getting much sleep. Kara…it was his turn to snort as he thought of Starbuck and Roslin curled up in one shelter, him and Lee in another.

"What?"

Oh, frak…"Water got in my nose."

That warm breath again, her trying to laugh without making a sound.

Then her arm jiggled against his chest right at his incision and things weren't funny anymore. She heard the hiss of his breath between his teeth.

"Would you be okay turning back around? Your arm…"

"Oh, Gods, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking…" She wondered if his…well, his attack, to be precise, on Sharon had been physically harder on him that he let on.

And then she thought of how big his body looked on top of a woman, kind of, and even with his hands at her throat and his teeth bared like a wolf's, he had looked pretty…hot. She felt wrong and kind of dirty thinking that, but her clit didn't seem to understand what "inappropriate" meant. Stupid primal clit, messing with her head again…

She had to bite her lip to stifle that giggle, as she turned on her other side, back again to his chest.

He smiled a centimeter away from her damp red hair, close enough to catch the rainwater-hair-shampoo smell. If she wasn't the President, if he wasn't the Commander…if they weren't in a leaky lean-to…he went down the list of "if only"s that stood between him, and him banging the warming woman in front of him.

He stopped at "if only he hadn't recently arrested her and thrown her in the brig". He didn't even get to the breaking up of the fleet. His jaw started tensing into iron again. He was glad she wasn't facing him as he tried to put thoughts of her risk-taking bullheadedness out of his mind.

Bill could feel muscles in his thighs and arms start into a low ache as he maintained a respectable distance. Frak this, he thought. She could suck it up and tell him to move back if it bothered her. She was grown, and the Gods knew she could voice her opinions. He let himself relax, and felt more of her heat under her thick sweater and pants as his body began touching hers at this point and that.

And if one body part twitched and touched more than it probably should, she could take it up with his cock and leave him out of it. He wasn't going to spend the rest of the night trying to fight involuntary responses. Not with her ass sleep-shifting closer into the curve of his hips.

He thought he could make the same claim if he happened to lay his arm over her in the night, as long as he didn't actually grab anything.

Blame it on the rain, she thought, as she relaxed into his firm body, pushing her ass against his cock just lightly enough to seem inadvertent. A soft, jazzy melody wound through her mind as she fell asleep, a song from high school she had liked for a week or so.

Blame it on the rain.

A/N: I'm new to the fandom and its fanfic. Reviews, concrit, comments all very welcome.