Disclaimer: If they were mine something like this would actually happen on the show! But, no – they do indeed belong to Ron Moore and his people.
A/N: This is for Nancy (because I promised her drunk!Roslin) and for Heather (because I promised her Roslin/Lee fluffiness).

Interlude (Part One)

It's the first day of the Quorum of the Twelve and Lee calls by her rooms ahead of time, he couldn't sleep last night in anticipation of today. He's heading her security detail, he'd insisted on it because he knew this would be the perfect opportunity for an assassination attempt on the President and the idea terrifies him; he can't trust the responsibility of her protection to anyone else.

He knocks on her doorframe, then draws the curtain back and enters the Presidents private room, she's not quite ready and he finds her crouched on the floor, looking under her sofa. Laura's back is arched and her skirt is taut across her thighs. Apollo stares at her; seeing her like this feels like an intrusion.

Roslin looks up at him. "Captain Apollo, you're here bright and early," she says as she reaches under the sofa and pulls out her shoes.

Lee looks as if he's been caught. "Yes… I was – there was – I can come back if you need a minute."

"No, it's fine. My alarm didn't go off and Billy just woke me fifteen minutes ago, so I'm a little harried. I just need a large cup of coffee and I'll be fine," she assures him and smiles radiantly.

The viper pilot moves towards her, he wants to go through her security routine one last time before they leave for Cloud 9. Laura stands up, puts her hand on his arm and uses it to balance her as she steps into her heels. This quiets him.

She draws away and begins gathering-up the papers she had been reading late into the night. "I was thinking of opening with a proposed agenda to discuss the reform of existing policy's, such as the distribution of medical supplies, water rations – and other such issues vital to the fleet," she tells him, trying to gauge a reaction.

"Uh, Ma'am?" Lee says hoarsely, the colour draining from his face.

"You think that's a bad idea? You think the Quorum Delegates will see it as a pre-emptive move to avoid the Vice-President nominations?"

"No, it's not that – it's just…" he points at her whilst trying not to stare.

Roslin looks down at herself. In her rush, she'd forgotten to button-up her blouse. Laura quickly does the front of her shirt up, when she's finished, she tries to hide her embarrassment by smiling nonchalantly at the pilot, "Thank the Gods you caught that before I went out there and addressed the Quorum!" she jokes.

Apollo grins.

She picks up a folder and gives him a quizzical look. "So, you think the reform of existing policy's is a good opener?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lee Adama is sitting beside her and the room is swimming; he's so cute and she knows there are rules, but she's had three glasses of wine and two glasses of something green, and she knows she must be careful, mustn't reveal anything… mustn't… mustn't something. She can't remember anymore – there are so many rules - and he's too close to her…

"I give up!" Apollo declares.

"You can't give up! Come on - it begins with 'G'!" Roslin persists, trying to give him a clue by glancing at the empty glasses littering their table.

"Green!" he exclaims, looking at the liquid in his glass.

Laura rolls her eyes. "You suck at this game!" she laughs. This was the third time in a row he had lost.

Lee turns an attractive shade of pink. "What is it then?" he asks.

"Glasses!" Roslin cries out.

"Oh!" Apollo sighs and looks down at the empty glasses surrounding them. Had they really drunk that much?

And while he stares at the glasses, she thinks of his hands touching her and she knows it's wrong, knows she should focus on the vice-Presidency nomination, but politics takes so much out of her, and while she loves giving the people all she can, there's a part of her that enjoys the clandestine understanding she shares with Lee… maybe too much.

Laura glances around the almost empty bar. Her security detail is near-by, keeping a respectful distance from her, but close enough to catch her should she fall off her stool in a drunken stupor… which could be any time soon.

"I hate this game!" Apollo sulks.

Laura giggles at his childish pout. "Sometimes, Captain, you're a real stickler – you know that?"

Lee looks at her through hazy eyes. "Me? You're a fine one to talk! You're Laura Stickler, the President of Sticklerness in the land Sticklerdom!" he says, then giggles into his drink.

Laura would slap his arm, but she's afraid she'll miss, unbalance herself and fall on the floor. So she stirs the straw in her drink and flicks it at him instead.

"Hey!" he exclaims as a spray of green liquid lands on his cheek.

"You know, it used to be a hanging offence to insult the President," she informs him.

"I'm glad we don't have that law anymore!"

"I'm thinking of re-introducing it," Laura teases.

Apollo smirks. "I get the feeling you were into corporal punishment in a past life!"

Laura leans across the table and whispers. "You're not too old for me to put across my knee, you know!"

Lee's eyebrows rise mischievously. "Madame President, are you threatening to spank me?"

"I'm stronger than I look," Roslin says as she sits up straight and flexes her biceps.

"Wouldn't that be assault?"

Roslin slumps in her seat and takes a swig of her drink. "Na – I'm the President, the charge would never stick! They'd never believe you!"

"You are quite unscrupulous Ms Roslin."

"Unscrupulous and good at anagrams!"

"Anagrams, huh?"

"It's a gift!" she gazes steadily at him. "And what about you Captain? What's your hidden gift?"

"I can tell you the square root of any number! I don't know how I know, I just do."

"Any number?"

"Yes."

"What's the square root of 2789?"

"52.810983706043575268258780776857," he replies instantly.

Laura is stunned. "Very impressive! If we combined your hidden skill and mine – we'd be unstoppable!"

"The Unstoppable Stickler's! A dynamic duo!"

"Fighting against unjust military protocol and corrupt politicians," Laura chimes.

"Prezwoman and her trusty side-kick Apollo!"

Laura closes her eyes for a moment and groans. "Oh, now I have a mental image of us dressed in blue spandex, travelling about space in our viper-mobile!"

Lee laughs. "You'd look good in spandex!"

"No one looks good in spandex!" Roslin retorts good-humouredly. She grins and sips her drink, then gaze's questioningly at him. "How did we get onto this subject anyway?"

"You threatened to spank me!" he reminds her.

"Oh yes!" Laura recalls. "So I did!"

Apollo looks at her; hair tucked behind her ears, lips stained a deep green from her drink and he wants to taste those lips, wants to stroke her hair. And usually, he's so ashamed of his weakness for her, scared that it will be revealed, scared that he'll have to face it, but alcohol has made him brave… or stupid… or somewhere in-between.

"So, who do you want to nominate as your VP?" he asks.

"I thought of you first," she replies. "But you're busy and you're already my Personal Advisor. Or are you my Military Advisor? Maybe you're my Personal Military Advisor… or my Military Personal Advisor…"

"Frakked if I know – I just show-up when you call!" he replies.

"You're so eloquent Lee, has anyone ever told you that?"

He grins cheekily at her and then realises that's the first time she's ever called him 'Lee'. And he loves the sound of it, but also loves the breathy way she calls him 'Captain Apollo'. Hell – he loves the way she says everything! She could read the phone directory and he'd be enthralled!

She yawns. "I need to make a move, I've got to get home," she declares, and she wants to stay, but she's so tired.

Lee doesn't hide his disappointment. "One more drink," he entices.

"That's what you said three drinks ago!" she proclaims. "I've really got to go."

"Alright, but remember - " Lee pauses, his index finger poised in mid-air.

"Yes?" she prompts.

"To button-up your blouse before leaving your quarters from now on."

Laura nods, feeling acutely self-conscious at the memory. "I'll do my best," she promises.

"Good," the viper pilot says. "Because it's not fair on me."

"What do you mean?

"Your breasts are like jelly beans to me!"

Laura stares at him. "Jelly beans?"

She looks ready to jump across the table and pummel him. Lee senses the danger.

"They're like jelly beans because there's a shortage of jelly beans and I want them, because they're gorgeous, but I can't have them! Uh - obviously, there isn't a shortage of your breasts, because there is only one set, but I can't have them either – therein lies the comparison…" he tries to explain, then stops and bites his lower lip, wondering if now would be a good time to jump out the nearest airlock or if he should wait until she orders her bodyguards to do it.

Instead, the President smirks. "Captain Apollo?"

Lee holds her gaze uncertainly. "Yes?"

"I'm going home now," she grips the edge of the table and pulls herself to her feet. "In case I don't remember this conversation in the morning, which is highly probable, I'd just like to take this opportunity to tell you that you are welcome to my jelly beans anytime you like," she states and winks very unpresidentially at him.

Lee stares at her, stunned.

Laura turns her back on him and walks precariously towards her bodyguards. Lee stares after her as she exits the bar. A moment later, he slowly gets to his feet, pays the bartender and heads towards the flight deck. He needs his bunk; he has some serious dreaming to do about Laura Roslin tonight.