It was official: Laura Roslin had reclaimed the title of President of the Twelve Colonies. Bill had been proud, of course, on seeing her recite the oath of office, had felt a profound sense of relief that the fate of humanity was once again in her capable hands. He'd harbored intense guilt at having talked her out of stealing the election from Baltar, felt responsible for the suffering their people had endured under his governance on New Caprica. Though he and Galactica had returned and freed the people from the yoke of Cylon tyranny, Bill knew they'd all been irrevocably changed by the experience. He'd seen the faces of those who'd once been so familiar to him changed, haunted by whatever horrors they'd been subjected to on that miserable planet. He'd felt their joy at having been rescued tempered by the resentment of having been left behind in the first place. With Laura's reinstatement to the presidency, and his hand in pressuring Zarek to ensure that inevitability, Bill felt some small measure of redemption. He saw her swearing in as the first step on what he knew would be a long road to recovery.

But as he'd watched her stand, hand raised, in front of the press corp, the assembled government, military and civilian representatives of the fleet, Bill had also felt a selfish pang of sadness. The realization that his relationship with Laura would not, could not, be the same as when she'd been a private citizen had hit him with a sudden, jarring force. He'd felt Laura retreating and President Roslin advancing with every heartfelt word she'd spoken in pledging to defend the Articles of Colonization, had no doubt that she'd indeed do so with every fiber of her being. He couldn't help the niggling fear that humanity's gain would ultimately result in his personal loss.

Unable to shake the melancholia that had chased him back to Galactica, Bill wanted nothing more than to hole up in his quarters for a time, attempt to shake the funk that appeared to be settling in. But he'd scheduled a one-on-one with Lee, ostensibly to discuss the Commander's future rank and role in the wake of the destruction of the Pegasus. While he did intend to address those issues, Bill's primary objective in meeting with Lee was to uncover the truth behind how his son's uniform jacket had materialized on his couch over the course of the previous night.

He and Laura had agreed that the best plan of attack in determining whether or not Lee had entered Bill's quarters while they'd been in bed together was a direct approach. Though she'd strongly encouraged Bill to be frank and forthright in asking Lee what he might have seen or heard, Laura wanted no part in the confrontation. She had argued that her presence during such a discussion would make Lee uncomfortable, would surely inhibit his willingness to be honest in his answers. When Bill had suggested that she was just chicken-shit, Laura had hidden her face in her hands and admitted as much. He hadn't really expected her to be there when he met with Lee, but he'd had fun coaxing Laura's confession of cowardice from her.

As he drew nearer his cabin and thus the dreaded meeting with his son, Bill decided the occasion called for a drink. Or two. To say that he was not looking forward to having this particular talk with Lee was an understatement. He convinced himself that it would be less awkward if he had a couple drinks under his belt, that the alcohol would relieve him of some of the tension he'd been carrying around all day, therefore allowing him to calmly face whatever came of the meeting.

When he rounded the bend in the corridor, Bill's mood immediately brightened on seeing Laura's security detail stationed outside his quarters. He acknowledged her guards with a nod as he passed, stepped through the hatch his own guard had opened.

******************************

Lee had known as soon as he'd been rudely awakened in sickbay by a pissed off Doctor Cottle that the day ahead would be unpleasant. He'd quickly been thrown out of sickbay, the crotchety old doctor's tirade about 'young idiots who can't hold their liquor' echoing down the corridor as he'd beat a hasty retreat. His head had ached, his mouth had tasted of dirty socks, and he'd had no idea where his newly assigned quarters were.

After an embarrassing phone call to the quartermaster, Lee had finally made his way to the billet he would be sharing with Dee. He hadn't exactly been welcomed home with open arms, but his wife had cooled somewhat since he'd last encountered her on the hangar deck. He'd forged a fragile peace with Dee, had showered and dressed in a clean uniform when the Admiral had rung to request a meeting later in the day. It was only then, on hearing his father's voice over the comm, that the memories of the previous night had come rushing back to Lee. He'd been barely able to fake his way through the rest of the short conversation, the vivid images of his dad frakking Laura Roslin having rendered him nearly incoherent.

Too few hours later, Lee followed a beaten path through the corridors toward the admiral's quarters. He decided en route to ask as few questions as possible, give as succinct answers as possible and get the meeting over with as quickly as possible. He guessed that time would alleviate the awkward feelings he was bound to have on seeing his dad or the president - especially the president - and that he'd eventually be able to look at each of them without flashing back to what he'd witnessed. At present, however, Lee's recollection of the previous night's events was still too graphically detailed to allow him any hope that the coming meeting with his father would be anything other than uncomfortable.

As he continued to make his way to his dad's cabin, Lee repeated over and over in his head 'Get in, get it over with, get out,' like a mantra.

******************************

When Bill closed the hatch to his cabin behind him, his eyes went immediately to where the newly-reinstated President of the Twelve Colonies sat on his burnished leather couch. Her legs were curled underneath her, her glasses were situated at the end of her nose and she held a thick file in her hands.

"Madame President," he greeted upon approaching her.

"Admiral," she returned, closed the cover on the file and stretched to drop it on the coffee table.

As Laura leaned back and pulled the glasses from her face, she smiled sweetly up at Bill when he stopped to stand beside the low chest in front of the couch.

"How is it," she started, folded her glasses and hung them from the neck of her white shirt, "that you left Colonial One before I did, but I beat you home?"

Her use of the word "home," the ease with which it rolled off her tongue, made Bill's heart swell.

"I had to stop in CIC," he said by way of explanation. "You know - make sure the security of the human race continues to run smoothly."

"And is it, Admiral?" she asked with feigned formality and raised brows.

"Steady as she goes, Madame President," he assured her, smiled.

"Glad to hear it," she said, nodded as he stepped over her discarded shoes and dropped onto the cushion beside her. "I'd hate to have to censure the top military brass my first day back in the big chair."

"How about a commendation for ceaseless devotion to duty instead?" he asked, pulled Laura onto his lap and kissed her smiling mouth.

"You want a medal, Admiral?" she purred, wrapped her arms around Bill's neck.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a blow job, Madame President."

The smile on Laura's face split into a wide grin and she laughed when he waggled his eyebrows at her theatrically.

"Is that how your superiors have recognized your dutiful service in past?" she asked, shifted in his lap until she was straddling his muscled thighs.

"No," Bill admitted, slid his hands down her back to cradle her firm ass. "But I didn't serve any of them quite as dutifully as I do you."

He covered her mouth with his, parted her lips with his tongue and silenced the beginnings of her chuckle. Laura hummed, accepted his hot, wet kiss and wound her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Bill lifted one hand from its place on her ass, tugged the hem of her blouse from the waistband of her black pants and slipped his fingers underneath to smooth over the cool, bare skin of her back. As they broke from the kiss, Laura wrapped her arms more tightly around Bill's neck, hugged him to her as she pressed the side of her face to his.

"I missed you today," she whispered and he chuckled.

"You woke up in my bed, Laura," he said, "spent most of the morning with me then saw me at the swearing-in."

"I know," she said, sighed, sat back in his lap and ran her hands over the coarse fabric that covered his chest. "I think," she continued, as her eyes followed the movement of her hands, "I'm already missing the Laura I am when I'm with you. And I'm afraid -"

"Hey," Bill interrupted when her voice wavered, raised her face with a finger under her chin until she engaged his eyes. He smiled sadly at the unshed tears he saw shining in her eyes, at her effort to blink them back, and nodded his head.

"I know, Laura," he said. "I know what you're afraid of, and the thought of things changing between us scares me, too."

"Things will change, Bill," she said quietly, wiped at the single tear that slipped from her eye, shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah," he sighed, pulled her into a hug.

Laura rested her head on Bill's shoulder, closed her eyes against the threat of more tears. She took a shuddering breath, felt his arms tighten around her, his hand smooth down the length of her hair, and drew comfort from the gesture.

"We'll manage," she said optimistically into his shoulder.

"Yeah," he echoed, began to rub warm circles onto her back with the hand he had beneath her shirt. "But just in case, you might wanna give me that blow job now."

She snorted, laughed as she straightened to come face to face with him.

"We'll be okay, Laura," he said sincerely as his hands dropped to rest on her hips. She nodded, smiled crookedly.

"We will," she agreed, leaned in and kissed him.

When she sat up, Bill watched in fascination as Laura reached behind her back, deftly unhooked her bra, pulled it off one shoulder with a hand up her sleeve then snaked the lacy white garment out the other sleeve. She lifted an eyebrow and smiled mischievously at him as she held the scrap of fabric between her thumb and forefinger, dropped it to the floor beside and behind her. He grinned and palmed her liberated breasts through the ribbed fabric of her white blouse.

Laura covered his big, dark hands with hers, pressed his fingers into her flesh. She cocked her head as a sharp rap sounded at the hatch.

"That will be Lee," Bill said distractedly.

"What?" she asked incredulously, grabbed his hands and flung them from her body. "He's here now? About last night?"

Bill smiled, chuckled at her wide eyes.

"Yep," he confirmed, "Need to find out what he knows."

Laura jumped from his lap, turned her back to him and began to frantically stuff the hem of her shirt into her pants while she tried unsuccessfully to step into her shoes at the same time.

"What the hell, Bill?," she accused as he pushed up from the couch, stepped around her towards the hatch. "You just let me sit here - you knew he was coming and you just let me - oh for frak's sake!"

He laughed outright as she stammered then cursed when she fumbled the shoe she'd just picked up and it flew out of her hands. When she bent at the waist to retrieve her footwear, she glared up at him through the curtain of red curls that had fallen over her face and he laughed again at her murderous look. Bill stepped quickly to his left when she stood suddenly, chucked one of her black pumps at him.

"You wanna go hide in the bathroom, chicken-shit?" he asked through his laughter, gestured towards the head with an outstretched hand.

"Oh, frak off," Laura answered, threw her other shoe at his back when he turned to open the door for his son.

Though he winced at the contact, Bill kept a steady stride, reached and pushed open the hatch as Laura nervously combed her fingers through her hair and her black heel clattered to the deck behind him.

******************************

Lee's legs had turned to jelly when he'd rounded the corner to the admiral's quarters and been met by the president's security detail. He'd have cut and run had the marines not seen him and immediately snapped to attention. He'd thought the meeting with his father would be uncomfortable, but a meeting with his father and Laura Roslin would be excruciatingly uncomfortable. Unable to avoid further delay under the watchful gaze of the president's marines, Lee had raised his arm and pounded on the hatch with a gathering sense of impending doom.

When the heavy door swung open, his surprise at seeing a silly smile on his dad's face momentarily supplanted Lee's cloying feeling of dread.

"Dad," he said, smiled and nodded in greeting.

"Hey, son, c'mon in," Bill returned, stepped aside to admit Lee.

When his eyes landed on President Roslin as she stood smiling in his direction, Lee hesitated, had to will his legs to carry him forward into the living area. He came to a stop a few feet from the president and a furious blush shot up his neck, washed over his face and he had to look away, down at his feet.

"Madame President," he mumbled by way of greeting.

Laura blanched on Lee's reaction to her presence, turned a pained expression to Bill.

"I guess we have our answer," she said, managing to keep her voice steady as she dropped onto a corner of the coffee table, covered her face with her hands.

Lee jerked his head up, brow furrowed in confusion, and looked at his dad.

"What answer?" he asked, "What's the question?" He chanced a quick glance at the president, looked quickly away when she eyed him from between her long fingers.

Bill narrowed his blue eyes, looked intently into his son's and leaned over, grabbed the jacket adorned with commander's pins from the arm of the sofa.

"We know you were here last night, Lee," Bill said evenly, tossed the tunic to him, nodded at the article of clothing in Lee's hand when he reflexively caught it at his rounded midsection, "So the question is, what caused you to run out so quickly that you forgot half your uniform?"

Laura's hands slid from her face as she tilted her head up in anticipation of the younger Adama's answer. Bill watched as his son's eyes widened and the color drained from his face. Lee swallowed nervously, licked his lips, realized the meeting had skyrocketed past uncomfortable.

"Dad," he squeaked, cleared his throat and looked up at Bill. "I can explain."

Bill's expression was steely and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Please, do," he rumbled, arched an eyebrow.

"Okay," Lee began, sucked in a deep breath, shifted his weight from one foot to the other and kept his eyes fixed on the jacket that had betrayed him. "I, uh, crashed on your couch, yes, but I heard something ... something woke me up -"

He looked back and forth between the admiral and the president when Bill shot an accusatory glance at Laura and she pinched the bridge of her nose, shook her head.

" - so I left. Spent the rest of the night in sickbay," he finished quickly, looked over at his dad and shrugged his shoulders.

"It's the something that woke you up we wanna talk about, Lee," Bill said gently, pointed to the couch. "Sit down, son."

Lee squeezed his eyes shut, dropped his head back on his neck.

"Dad, you don't have to -"

"Sit down," Bill repeated, more firmly.

Laura rose from her perch on the edge of the coffee table and exchanged an anxious glance with Lee as he skirted the corner on his way to sit down. Bill rounded the other end of the table, stopped short on seeing Laura's bra lying on the patterned rug at his feet. When he looked up, he knew from Lee's stricken gaze and Laura's horrified expression that they, too, had seen it. He picked it up off the deck, held the frilly piece of underwear out to Laura with the beginnings of a grin on his face. She stared in utter mortification at the bra she'd mere moments ago removed as it dangled from Bill's fingers over the center of the coffee table. Lee dropped heavily onto the couch, leaned back and rolled his head from side to side.

"I need a drink," he mumbled.

Bill saw it coming, watched the change roll across Laura's face, wasn't surprised when the rich, throaty laughter bubbled up and out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, reached out and snatched the dainty garment from Bill's meaty paw. "Oh my gods, I'm so sorry, Bill - Lee," she squeaked, clutched the bra to her chest and bowed her head. She tried to stave off the giggles by purposely not looking at either of the men across from her.

"Laura," Bill said, the tone of his voice indicating he shared her merriment, "Why don't you, uh ..."

"Go hide in the head?" she choked out and began moving off in the direction of the bathroom.

"Chicken-shit," Bill whispered from the corner of his mouth, smiled as she passed him.

Laura burst into hysterical laughter, whipped his shoulder with the bra and disappeared into the head.

Bill briefly closed his eyes, shook his head at the absurdity of the situation in which he found himself. When he looked over at Lee, his son was staring back him with eyes wide and mouth agape.

"You do need a drink," he chuckled, walked to the service cart.

"Bring the bottle," Lee sat up and shouted, slumped back into the couch on seeing Bill acknowledge his demand with a wave of his hand.

******************************

Laura stepped over the threshold into Bill's living area - both composure and bra firmly in place - after having killed more than fifteen minutes in the bathroom. She wasn't surprised to find father and son sitting side by side on the couch, silently sipping from glasses of scotch. She smiled when she saw the decanter on the table in front of them, had to work at suppressing the urge to laugh at their obvious discomfort. She took a few long steps in their direction, cleared her throat and grinned when both their heads popped up.

"I'm gonna go," she said, smiled at Bill, pulled her glasses from the front of her shirt and slid them onto her face. She scanned the deck for her shoes, bent to collect them when she spotted the black heels and pushed her feet into them.

Bill rose and walked her to the hatch with a hand at her elbow.

"Making your escape?" he asked, voice low but imbued with mirth.

Laura smiled and ducked her head, looked up at him through her lashes.

"Yes," she chuckled. "There's no room for me in this father-son chat. But I'll be back," she assured him, "when the coast is clear."

He nodded at her statement, smiled at her wink when she lifted her head.

She turned to where Lee was still seated.

"It was good to see you, Lee," she said cheerfully, barked out a short laugh when he refused to meet her gaze, quietly and painfully replied "You, too, ma'am," and continued to stare at his boots.

When she looked back at Bill, he was smiling and shaking his head at her. As he raised a hand to the wheel on the hatch, he dropped the other to the small of her back when she turned to the door.

"Laura," he rumbled from behind her, slid the hand on her back up to her waist as she did a half-turn to face him again. He dropped his eyes to her mouth, flicked them back up to engage hers as he leaned in and kissed her.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yes," she answered softly, dipped her head in a curt nod as Bill pushed open the hatch. When she spun on her heel and exited his quarters, he watched her detail fall in behind her before he swung the door closed again.

"Why didn't you tell me, dad?" Lee asked from across the room.

Bill sighed and made his way back to his seat on the cushion beside his son. He raised his glass to his lips, emptied the amber contents and poured a refill before he leaned back and answered.

"It's none of your business, Lee," he said gently.

Lee stared into the bottom of his glass, nodded reluctantly in acceptance of the truth of his dad's statement.

"Do you love her?" he asked, caught and kept Bill's gaze until the elder Adama broke eye contact, looked down to where he was swirling the liquid in his own glass.

"It's ... complicated," Bill finally said.

"The head of the military in bed - literally - with the head of the civilian government?" Lee scoffed. "Yeah, I'd say that's complicated."

Bill looked sideways at his son.

"She wasn't the president when we ... started this," he said, sighed and shook his head. "But you're right - now that she's been sworn in again ..." he trailed off, shrugged his shoulders, threw back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

Lee felt chagrined on seeing the doubt, a hint of sadness cloud his father's blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, dad," he said sincerely, "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't wanna give her up, Lee," Bill confessed, looked at his son. "And it's not about the sex - though the sex is great - "

" - looked like it," Lee snorted, looked quickly away when Bill narrowed his eyes menacingly.

"Obviously," he continued, "Laura's beautiful -"

"Hot," Lee interjected emphatically, laughed at his dad's scowl. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry," he chuckled, raised a hand in surrender, finished the last of his drink and slammed his glass down next to Bill's. "No more poking the bear, I promise."

Bill's nostrils flared and his lips twitched, but he took a deep breath and went on.

"Laura's beautiful," he glared at Lee, "Everybody knows she's smart and charming. But she's also got a wicked sense of humor and an incredibly tender heart. She's strong, yes, but she can also be so ... fragile, Lee. She ..." he shook his head, put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, eyes glued to the deck between his feet. "She smiles when she sleeps," he said in quiet wonder.

Lee sat forward, mirrored his father's posture and, smiling, hung his head. His dad was in love, whether the man admitted it or not.

"My point is," Bill sighed, looked over at Lee, "Laura's a woman, not just the president. I'm a man, not just your father and the admiral. We're capable of separating ourselves from our jobs. But I'm not sure people are capable of believing that."

Lee pondered Bill's words, realized that he wanted his dad to be happy - that his dad deserved to be happy. And the fact that he found happiness with the woman who just happened to be the President of the Twelve Colonies shouldn't matter.

"I believe it, dad," he said, clapped his hand on Bill's shoulder. "I'll do whatever I can to make things easier for you and ... Laura."

Bill chuckled at the difficulty Lee had in using Laura's first name.

"You can start," he said evenly, looked into his son's thoughtful eyes, "by knocking before you come in."

Lee cracked a smile, patted Bill on the back and nodded.

"Done," he said.

"And stop blushing when you see her," Bill laughed.

Lee groaned, scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned back into the couch. He looked uncertainly at his dad and his mouth turned up into the smallest of smiles.

"That," he said, "is gonna take some time."

Bill chuckled and nodded. His own smile tapered as he sobered and he looked intently at Lee.

"And keep this to yourself for now, will you?"

Lee nodded, looked down at his clasped hands.

"Of course," he said seriously, then snapped his head up and looked at Bill curiously. "Anyone else know?"

"Yeah," Bill answered, sat back. "Saul and Tory, for practical - logistical - reasons..."

Lee nodded.

"... and our guards," Bill continued, turned to Lee with a grin splitting his face, "Hell, you heard her - "

" - She is ... vocal," Lee agreed uncomfortably, blushed hotly.

Bill laughed, enjoying his son's turn at discomfort, and stood to collect the bottle of liquor and their glasses.

"Now that that's outta the way," he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the service cart, "let's talk about your new assignment."

******************************

Having showered and redressed in clean boxers and tanks after Lee's departure, Bill stood at the sink and dragged a razor over the rough surface of his face. When he'd scraped off the last of the whiskers and shaving cream, he rinsed the blade under the stream of water from the faucet and set it aside. As he cupped his hands to catch and throw water onto his face, he heard the hatch to his quarters creak open. He shut off the tap, grabbed a towel from the rack and rubbed at the droplets dripping from his broad nose and rounded chin. When he stuck his head out of the bathroom, he saw Laura kicking off her shoes just inside the door.

She glanced up and smiled shyly when she caught his eye.

"Can I assume that it's safe to come in?" she asked and Bill chuckled as he walked out to greet her.

"Yes," he answered, returned her smile as he approached. "All clear."

"How'd it go?" she asked tentatively, took the towel from his shoulder and dabbed at bits of shaving cream he'd missed in rinsing his face.

Bill slipped his arms around Laura's waist, pulled her tightly to him and smiled lovingly at the anxiety her green eyes held.

"It went well, Laura - everything's fine," he soothed and she relaxed in his arms, dropped her hands and the towel to his chest, smiled up at him.

"Oh thank gods," she said, blew out a long breath. "So, you and Lee? You're okay?"

"Yeah, we're good," he answered, leaned in and covered her mouth with his, kissed her slowly, deliberately.

Laura wound her arms around his thick neck, dropped the towel she'd held and wove her long fingers into his damp hair. She moaned into his mouth when he tilted his hips, pressed his erection into her belly.

"You ready to make good on that commendation, Madame President?" he growled in her ear, sucked the lobe into his hot mouth and she hummed, tipped her head back to grant his questing mouth better access to her neck.

"Happy to, Admiral," she purred, "just as soon as you remind me why your ... dedicated service ... is deserving of such an honor."