Work Text:
Title: Q is for Queen
Author: deepforestowl
Rating: T, nothing explicit, cept ideas maybe
Pairing: None, though it doesn't seem like it.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: Adama has a present for someone
Notes: Made for the Alphabet Challenge on the AR list. This is not an AR piece so it might be excluded and I really was thinking of something else when I took the letter Q but then…well, this bit of silliness came upon me.
In the Colonial fleet, people of all sexualities and genders are welcomed. It would be nice to say that, but the reality was that while on paper this equality was true, the bona fide reality was that if you had a kink, you needed to keep it a secret. Homosexuality, heterosexuality, bisexuality, all acceptable terms and couples…but kink? Not so much.
Kink was a powerful thing. Admiral Adama knew this. It could break a man. It could bend a man to the will of another. It could be useful and it could be destructive. This was, after all, human nature. Adama reflected on all of this as he walked down the corridor as his normal pace, after all, if you looked normal, acted normal, and practically exuded normalness from every pore of your skin, you had to be normal, right?
Perhaps not. As crewman saluted Adama as he walked down the corridor, none of them had any idea that carefully folded in his regulation jacket was a bra. Not just any bra of course. It was red satin with lace trim. It had black straps and black lace on the cups but the inside was all red satin. It was a small cup size but a big chest size. In short, Adama had finally found the perfect bra. It said feminine and it said harlot and he knew that the recipient would love every lacy bit of it. Adama of course would not be telling the recipient how he got said bra, that would be telling and one never tells a lady how one acquires lingerie for them.
As Adama's feet took him towards Sickbay, he reflected that it was a very good thing that his shift was over and that it was approaching late night on Galactica. Though there were still people about, they were quickly diminishing as his crew settled down for the night to their duties or their rest or the relaxation, whatever that may be. Adama walked past Sickbay, his feet stopping at Cottle's door. He rapped on the door loudly and a grouchy CMO answered, clearly, he had been in bed as he was wearing a bathrobe. "Yes?"
"I need to talk to you." Adama commanded smoothly.
Cottle stepped away from the door and motioned Adama in. The two of them had been friends for years, too many to really count and they knew many of each other's secrets. Some people wondered, not often mind you, why Cottle hadn't retired earlier in his career. He was past the standard age for retirement and while he was the best of the best, except when it came to bedside manner of course, there came a time when even the best had to retire. Before the end of the worlds, it was a commonly held belief that Cottle had outlived his time in the Colonial fleet, and not by a little. War was a young man's game and Cottle was, well, old. None of this really bothered Cottle or Adama, they were older and wiser than the puppies and here they were still alive, rather than vaporized with all their friends and kin. Lately, Cottle had been feeling every second of his age. He had been feeling as if all of the joy and life had been sucked out of him.
As Adama started to unbutton his jacket, Cottle's eyes went large and he shuffled from foot to foot, like a child at their birthday party standing before a mountain of presents. Cottle knew that if Adama was disrobing in front of him in his quarters, Adama had a present for him. This wasn't just any present of course. This was a special present. This was a present that would breathe new life into Cottle's spirits. Hence Adama's quest to find the lacy red bra of rejuvenation. Adama leered at Cottle and Cottle batted his eyes coquettishly.
If any crewman had been walking past Cottle's quarters at O'Gods O'Clock, they would have heard a very excited shriek that sounded falsely feminine but then again, crewmen don't just wander around in officers country, so alas, no one heard Cottle's high pitched screams of delight.
Adama, his face carved in stone, let himself out of Cottle's quarters. Over the years, Adama had gotten used to the idea that while Cottle was gay, he was also a Queen. The Fleet frowned on that kind of thing, but the Queens tended to be better than many of the other groups and Adama had learned this early. When he could recruit a Queen, but not a catty or bitchy one, he did for the simple fact that he knew they would work twice as hard, and if he brought them simple gifts, that admittedly were not so simple anymore, they would be loyal for life. And besides, they were far more fun than the standard overloaded testosterone riddled viper jocks.
As Cottle sashayed around his quarters in his new red satin with black lace bra that was just a touch tight, he stopped at his vanity and looking at himself in the mirror, murmured, "oh that handsome handsome man. Roslin honey, if you don't want him, I'll take him any day." And with that, Cottle sashayed back to his desk for a desperately needed cigarette, in a black holder of course.