Bill's POV

This story could take place during ? Black Market ? or ? Scars ? or even later but before New Caprica. English is not my first language and this is my 1rst fanfic in a very long time so please be indulgent.

He looked at the woman sitting next to him. Her relaxed features were a nice changed, she seemed at ease, pleased. Seeing her on his couch, her back against the armrest, her head against his pillow reading peacefully, he felt a smile come to his lips. How domestic of them! She had her feet on the sofa and he was sitting next to them, his own feet resting on the coffee table while he was reading too. It felt so confortable, so intimate. He wondered if he had once in his life felt that peaceful around someone else, let alone a woman. He forgot sometimes that behind the president of the colonies laid a woman. Never during all his years with Carolane he had experienced this: this silence, this ease. Of course, he had been close to his wife, after all they had two sons together but being naked with her didn't feel as intimate as this. Laura sighed while turning a page and moved her feet, tugging them between his lap and the couch. She didn't even seem to notice, as she was completely absorb by her book. She replaced her glasses on her nose, moved her hair behind her ears and snuggled a little bit more her feet. Since her miracle cure, she seemed so much younger, so much more alive. He smiled, of course she was! She seemed more woman too, more charming and perhaps more her true self. He wondered a second why she had move her feet like that. He remembered Ellen trying to seduce him with her feet. No, Laura was not in a seductive mood. She was much more obvious when we was. And it hit him: the coldness exuding from her limbs transpiring through his pants. She was seeking some warmth, without even thinking. So he was not the only one at ease there. He grab her left foot, then the right and put them on his lap, covering them with his hot hands. She moaned softly and smiled tenderly, without moving, without even looking at him. He felt her abandon, her trust, her ease and it shook him a little bit. He had known her for almost a year now, kissed her once, touched only her hands and arms in the past. They were never lovers, never more than friends. Something had changed. Or he had and she didn't. She was beautiful and she must have been even more with and endless supply of makeup and dresses. She was intelligent, curious, witty and had a unique sens of humour. She could be loving and maternal, he knew that. She was the type of woman who had been loved, who had been desired, who could make a man want to settled. He wished suddenly he knew her more: more Laura, less Madam President. She was so relaxed, guard down, he had to try.

? Do you miss him? ? He asked still massaging her feet. She lifted her head from her book, puzzled.

? Who? ? She didn't seem to understand what he meant at all.

He felt suddenly less at ease and lowered his gaze. ? Your husband? ?

She laughed, her charming and true laugh. ? My husband? What do you mean Bill, I've never been married. ? A smile still covered her lips but her eyes demanded an explication.

? You seem so domestic, I imagined … ? He saw her eyes fell on her feet still covered by his hand. She blushed and tried to remove them. He hold her ankles and kept her still.

? I'm sorry. ? She muttered. ? I didn't even realized. ?

? I'm sorry, I assumed so. You're such an …. ? he swallowed his saliva, his mouth suddenly dry. ? You're such a warm and tactile person, I assumed you were in a relationship.?

She smiled shyly. ? I was , kind of. ?

He regained his composure but felt sympathy for her and the one she had loose. ? Do you miss him? ?

She didn't even think before answering. ? No, not at all. ? A giggle escaped her lips while the admiral looked at her uncertain. ? We were lovers but we've never been intimate."

He was what I needed at this point of my life: something easy and funny, without attachment. ?

He was not sure to understand. He was a man of commitment, of words. ? You didn't love him? ?

? No. ? He saw the honesty in her eyes. ? I felt passion and lust for him but I knew I could never trust him. He came in a difficult period of my life and he was just what I needed: a distraction, and very very good frak. ? She laughed hard.

? So much for the innocent kindergarten teacher. ? He joked, surprised by her honesty. ? so you don't miss him? ? He asked again becoming serious.

? I miss certains aspects of our relationship. I miss being touched, and held, and kissed. Even tough he was not the right one, he made me feel.. ? She paused, looking for her words, a finger caressing her lips. ? He made me feel alive. ?

He nod, understanding her too well.

? The sex is one thing. I would probably not say no to it, if offered. ? They laughed. ? But being close to someone is what I miss the most. You know, just like I said, being touched, hugged and kissed. ? She paused, her smiled vanished. ? I never thanked you for your kiss. It made me feel.. It made me feel so alive even though I was dying. It helped me see once more why we fight every day. ?

He gave a gentle squeeze to her feet, happy that she understood him and his motives. They smiled, knowing too well their responsibilities and the burden of being a leader. ?Mmmmhhh. ? She sighed contently as he massaged the tender spot underneath the big toe. It felt, again, so good, so intimate: the conversation, her laugh, the way she let him caress her. He continued to observe her as she resumed her reading, her body once more resting comfortably against the soft leather. Despite his ministrations, her limbs were still icy.

? Are you cold? ? He asked grabbing a blanket from underneath the coffee table.

? Always ? She smiled. ? I don't remember having a single time in my life warm hands or feet. When Kelley was a baby I had to rub my hands together before changing or bathing her otherwise she would scream murder. ? She amused. She saw the interrogation in his eyes and knew she had said too much and too little at the same time. ? Kelley was my daughter. ?

He had seen the sadness in her gaze. He knew she loved kids and had seen her interact with such tenderness with them but never thought she had indeed been a mother. She had never mentioned a kid before. Had she became president the same day her daughter died? Had she assumed that role while grieving? She was much much tougher than what he gave her credit for.

? She died a long time ago. ? She clarified. ? But I still miss her everyday. ? She let a tear roll on her cheek, honest, simple. ? She was turning five. She was playing on the kitchen floor while I was dressing. When I came back, she was dead. Sudden cardiac arrest. ?

He knew too well what it was to loose a kid. He moved closer to her and hugged her, soothing her with a hand in her hair, another on her back. He waited for her to calm down and move out of his embrace.

? Thank you. She said, eyes stil red but smiling. She gave him a small kiss on the lips. He wondered if he had ever had a discussion like that, so pure, so honest. He felt a nice warmth in his chest. He could get use to that, to this closeness, to this intimacy.