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On Tuesday morning, Bill woke to the sight of two hazel eyes blinking down at him.
He jumped, nearly falling out of his rack.
"Don't do that," he said, sitting up, gripping the sheet a little tighter and hoping he hadn't yelped embarrassingly.
Saul smirked. "Good morning to you, too."
"Good morning," Bill said grudgingly. He ran a hand through his hair. "What are you doing?"
"Waking you up."
"Mission accomplished. Move." Saul obediently stepped out of the way so Bill could get out of bed. He was halfway to the head before he realized what seemed wrong about the situation. He turned on his heel, back to face Saul.
"Why are you dressed like that?"
Saul looked down at himself, as if taking in his shorts, his flip-flops and his horrible loud shirt for the first time. How had Bill missed the offensive orangeness of it before? "We've got R&R," he said. "Go on, get dressed. I'll throw together a bag for you."
He crossed over to Bill's closet and pulled out his bag. Bill stood there dumbly, watching Saul pack.
"Where are we going?"
"Cloud Nine."
"Both of us?"
"Yeah." Saul held up a sweater. "Is this really all you've got?" When Bill didn't respond, he threw it in the bag. Bill felt his eye twitch. Would it kill him to fold things?
"Look, Bill," Saul said, seeming to read his mind. "You've been working yourself to death lately. You need a break. We both do. And it's been quiet, so I figured we could take one."
"How long we talking here?"
"Two days." Saul zipped Bill's bag shut and straightened up. "If the Cylons show up, we cut it short. No biggie. Gaeta knows how to run things in CiC; Lords know he's done it enough. And Kelly's third in command—let him do something for once in his life."
Bill bit his lip.
"C'mon!" Saul slung his arm around Bill's shoulder. "When was the last time we had fun?"
Bill thought for a moment. He couldn't remember. Saul grinned.
He had to admit it was nice to see Saul like this, back to his old self. Retirement had seemed to creep up on him, had made him crawl back into the bottle. Bill knew he'd been worried about going back home, had been torn about whether to reach out to Ellen again or just let her go (and part of Bill was glad the Cylons had prevented him from having to make that choice, as much as he hated himself for thinking it).
"This'll be fun," Saul said confidently, giving Bill a playful shove toward the head. "Like old times."
They made an odd pair, Bill thought. Saul was dressed like he had wandered away from a frat party, whereas Bill's choices of civilian clothing extended to winter clothes or a suit. He was wearing a long-sleeved polo shirt and corduroy pants, and he was already starting to get hot on Cloud Nine, which was heated to give off the impression of being some sort of tropical island. Bill had no idea what he was doing over here.
Saul maneuvered them successfully from the shuttle bay to the check-in desk. "Smith," he announced.
"Smith?" Bill hissed.
"I was going for anonymity," Saul whispered back.
"It's so anonymous it sounds fake."
Saul raised an eyebrow at him.
"Here you are," said the girl behind the desk, tapping a few keys on her computer. "We've got an upgrade for you! It's 5123. That's on the Moonbeam Deck." She beamed. "Congratulations."
"Er, thanks," Saul said, taking the keys from her.
Bill wondered why the Moonbeam Deck was grounds for congratulations.
The Moonbeam Deck was in a remote, quiet part of the ship, and Bill thought this would make a nice vacation—one that he would, in no way, be able to afford, if the Cylons had never come. He supposed there was an upside to this after all—he got to see the inside of a first-class cabin on board a luxury liner.
The carpet on the Moonbeam Deck was a very heavy plush and Bill could feel himself sink into it with each step he took. The lamps on the walls looked like candles and the wallpaper was subtle and tasteful. He didn't really feel like they belonged here, especially with Saul's garish shirt and exposed knees.
"Here we are," Saul said. "5123." He swiped the key card and the lock bleeped. Bill was just about to wonder why they had been upgraded, when he saw the inside of Cabin 5123.
Cabin 5123 was the honeymoon suite.
"What the hell?" Saul muttered under his breath, stepping into the room and looking around, his face a mask of confusion.
It was quite nice, actually. Cozy. A lot warmer than the efficient, identical hotel rooms Bill was used to. The furniture was Picon Classic era, all dark woods, with the upholstery in various shades of blue, and the water glasses on the server were real crystal. Sheer curtains hid a false window that matched the outdoor scenes in the gardens upstairs. He was almost afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking something. The room was full of antiques.
There was a fruit basket on the coffee table, as well as a bottle of ambrosia. Saul grabbed an apple. "Mm," he said. "Fresh fruit's looking pretty good right about now."
"Don't do that!" Bill grabbed the apple from him. "We can't stay here. They made a mistake. We must not be in 5123. We're in somebody else's room."
"No," Saul said, handing Bill the confirmation. "We're in 5123."
"Mind telling me why they put us in the honeymoon suite?"
Saul looked confused, then suddenly paled. "Oh," he said.
"Oh what?"
Saul grabbed the confirmation back from Bill. "They must have thought we were married."
"And what gave them that impression?"
Saul rubbed the back of his neck. "We have the same last name."
Bill crossed his arms over his chest. "You put us down as Mr. and Mr. Smith."
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"We still have to move," Bill said. "It's not right." He picked his bag back up and turned to go. "They can move us somewhere else, put a real couple in here."
"Oh, come on, Bill!" Saul jumped in front of the door frame, blocking Bill's exit. "Look at this place! We've got a flat-screen TV, we've got a mini-bar, we've got twenty-four hour room service, we've got—look!" He grabbed a smaller basket off one of the end tables next to the claw foot couch. "All this free stuff!" He began pawing through the gift basket. "Vouchers for… dinner… tennis… drinks."
Bill raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we don't have to use all of them," Saul amended. "I'm just saying. I don't want to pass up on all this free stuff!"
Bill took another look at the room.
"The bed's huge," Saul added, pointing into the other room. "I won't bother you."
Bill plucked a small pink bottle from the basket.
"We don't have to use all the free stuff," Saul repeated. The tips of his ears were turning a little pink.
"It's supposed to taste like strawberries," Bill said.
"Oh." Saul's ears reddened further. "You can have it if you're gonna have some use for it."
Bill shook his head and put the small, pink bottle back.
"So," Saul said, the moment of awkwardness having passed. "We staying or what?"
Bill looked again at the book of coupons. He supposed he couldn't really turn down a table at the nicest restaurant on the ship. Nor could he turn down having the run of the bar, the leisure areas. And all for free, too, he imagined. It would be hard to charge them anything, what with money being useless.
"We can stay," Bill said, snapping the coupon book shut. "But no one's ever going to believe we're married."
Saul set the basket down. "We just need a good cover story. When'd we get married? Where were we going when the Cylons hit?"
"I guess on our honeymoon," Bill said. "To Scorpia?"
"No way," Saul cut in. "I'm not honeymooning on Scorpia."
"Okay, Virgon, then."
Virgon was acceptable. "And what do we do, what are our jobs? We can't say we command a battlestar."
Bill thought about the civilian job he'd applied for before deciding to delay his retirement. "I'm a consultant," he said. "For a security firm."
"Okay, I'm…" Saul looked deep in thought.
"An investment banker," Bill said.
"But I don't know a frakking thing about investment banking!"
"Neither do investment bankers. It sounds good, though." Bill dropped his bag onto the couch. "I guess if we're staying, we might as well make ourselves at home." He made his way into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. The bedroom was just as nice as the main room, with a four-poster bed with royal blue hangings. It was indeed huge and very soft. If he lay down, he might not want to get up again.
He lay down.
Saul had headed into the bathroom. "Frak me," he muttered.
"What is it?" Bill called, not getting up.
"There's a hot tub in here. It's heart-shaped."
Bill rolled his eyes. He was glad he wasn't in the habit of taking luxury vacations, and that CarolAnne had not wanted to stay in a honeymoon suite on their honeymoon.
"Knock, knock!" sang a female voice from the doorway. Bill got up and went back into the living room. Saul poked his head out of the bathroom.
"Are you the Smiths?" the woman asked. She was kind of cute (though Bill supposed he should quash that line of thinking if he was supposed to be married), with perfect blonde hair and a snazzy little blue suit. He couldn't help noticing that she matched the room's décor.
"Yeah," Saul said. "I'm… Saul Smith." He looked like that was his first time saying both names together. "This is my…" He swallowed hard. "This is my husband Bill." It came out in a rush, and Bill couldn't decide whether Saul looked like he wanted to laugh or die. Whichever it was, he didn't look passionately in love with Bill.
"Well, welcome to Cloud Nine! I'm Mitzi and I'll be your Activities Director." She emphasized her title so firmly that Bill could hear the capital letters. "You've been assigned our standard honeymoon group, which we rotate out every few days. We'll be meeting in the rec room in half an hour, so why don't you two get settled and head on up? It's on the Sunburst Deck."
"All right," Saul said. "We'll do just that."
"Great! Hope to see you there!" Mitzi gave them another blinding smile and left.
Bill leaned against the doorjamb and Saul came over to stand next to him.
"This is not going to work," Bill said.
"Yes, it is, darling," Saul said.
When he called Bill darling, he looked like he'd been made to swallow a bouillon cube. Bill thought that was progress.
Their first activity was tennis. Bill had played tennis rarely in his life and even then, it had only ever been with CarolAnne, against other couples in her circle of friends. He had never played with or against Saul, or even known Saul to play at all, though he knew Saul had athletic tendencies.
"This'll be fun," Saul said, looking down at his rented tennis shoes.
"Yeah," Bill said. He bounced the ball experimentally and looked across the net at the young couple they had been paired with. They had introduced themselves as Sheila and Harry, from Virgon.
Admittedly, Bill was tuning the instructor out. He was sure she was saying something important, but he felt very out of place. He belonged back on Galactica, in CiC, not on Cloud Nine, wearing borrowed tennis whites. They were supposedly on R&R, but he didn't feel very rested or relaxed. Maybe they shouldn't have come. Probably after this, he'd suggest they go back to Galactica. This wasn't a very good idea, and this whole pretending-to-be-married thing was liable to blow up in their faces.
"Your serve, Bill," Saul called.
"Oh." Bill had forgotten he was holding the ball. He tossed it in the air and hit it with his racket, lobbing it toward Harry, who lobbed it back.
Bill ran for it, but didn't quite make it. Saul appeared, seemingly out of nowhere and hit it back on the other side of the net.
"Nice save," Bill said, assessing him. "Didn't know you played."
Saul grinned. "I don't." When the next volley came, he was gone, dancing across the court to send it back. He looked more alive than he had in ages. Bill had gotten so used to seeing Saul in uniform, in CiC, doing his job, that he'd really forgotten that once they'd acted like idiots, once they'd had fun. It was almost impossible for them to hang out on Galactica anywhere than Bill's quarters. They needed to have fun, and they could have fun here, as long as they both played along.
He glanced at Saul out of the corner of his eye. If he was going to play the part of Saul Tigh's husband for the next day or so, he needed to get into character. He supposed Saul was good-looking enough. He had all right parts: one nose, one mouth, two ears, two eyes—and they were rather an interesting hazel. Kind of a unique color, he decided. Lots of different ones all blended together. He didn't have much hair left, but Bill remembered when he'd had more and it had been red.
Bill decided he was pleasant-looking-enough to make up for the baldness. And the short temper. Plus, there were those other qualities that made up for the baldness and the short temper, qualities that made him a good best friend, a good XO—so probably not a bad husband, either.
"Bill, watch out!"
Saul's shout pulled Bill out of his daydream just in time for him to register the ball. It hit him on the top of the head and bounced out of bounds.
"Our point!" Harry called.
"Hey, pay attention!" The look on Saul's face was not full of husbandly concern. "You gonna play or stare at my ass?"
Sheila and Harry laughed. Bill felt the back of his neck grow hot. "I just can't help it, darling," he grit out. "You're just that sexy."
Saul rolled his eyes and lobbed the ball back to Harry.
"Sorry about that, Saul," Bill said.
"That's okay, dear." Saul's eyes were bright, laughing. He really was having fun. Bill decided he could put up with this crazy stuff if Saul would smile like that more often. Gamely, he hefted his racket, ready to return the next volley.
Lunch couldn't come soon enough. They ate in one of the smaller restaurants on board, a pleasantly (fake) sunlit café filled with (real) palms.
Bill relaxed in the wicker chair, rubbing his sore shoulder.
"That was refreshing," Saul said, taking a sip of his water. "Nice to get moving again."
"Yeah," Bill said, making a mental note to hit the gym more often when they got back to Galactica. "What do you want to do during free time?"
"Let's just relax, Bill. Get some drinks, hang out by the pool. Take our minds off everything."
"Is the stress of pretending to be married really getting to you?"
Saul started, as if he didn't realize Bill was joking. "No, Bill, I like being married to you—I mean, you know what I mean." He looked down at his shepherd's pie. "I don't think we're doing too bad a job of this. I thought we were being pretty convincing."
"No, we are," Bill said. "Just kidding."
Saul looked up again, smile firmly back in place. "Still think it'd be fun to hang out by the pool." He reached over to Bill's plate and stole a couple of his fries. "Might be some interesting stuff there."
"Oh," Bill said. "You just want to go to the pool to… people watch."
Saul nodded. "I love people watching."
Bill smirked. "Should I pretend to be jealous?"
Saul swallowed his mouthful of Bill's lunch. "I may be fake-married, but I'm not dead."
Bill shook his head and snickered. Maybe it was a good thing that he was only fake-married to Saul. "You're free to do what you want. You're not tied down."
Saul was quiet for a second. "I'm not going to go looking to pick somebody up, Bill. I'm going to stay in character!"
"Good." Bill took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "I'm not going to let you off the hook this easily. You're the one who got us into this mess and you're gonna ride it out."
Saul looked surprised, but then he grinned. "Sure thing, Bill. I'll be the best husband you ever had."
Bill wasn't sure why, but he found himself liking the sentiment there.
The afternoon activity was to be held in what Mitzi called the Constellation Room, a large, circular room with domed windows, providing a view of the stars outside. Bill stopped to gaze up at the world outside. He could see Galactica above them and was relieved to see it had somehow escaped destruction under the joint care of Gaeta and Kelly.
"What are we supposed to do here?" Saul asked. Bill looked around the room. There were two lines of folding chairs facing each other, with one extra chair at the head of the rows.
"Hello, you two!" She beamed. "How did you enjoy your morning?"
"Fine," Saul said, nodding and looking to Bill for confirmation. "Just fine."
"We enjoyed playing tennis," Bill added. "We'd never done that together before."
"Always good to try new things," Saul finished, slinging his arm around Bill's shoulders. Bill was startled, but he smiled. "So, what are we going to do this afternoon?"
Mitzi smiled. "A little something we like to do with our honeymooning couples. A fun little game. Why don't you take a seat across from each other?"
"A fun little game?" Bill asked. He noticed that each chair had a pad of paper and a pencil on top of it.
But Mitzi didn't answer. She had spotted another couple coming in and swept off to greet them. Bill and Saul exchanged glances.
"I guess we'd better sit down," Saul said. He nodded at two of the chairs.
Bill watched the other couples thoughtfully. They were the real thing, he mused. Not like him and Saul. He wondered how anyone couldn't have seen right through them by now. He supposed they were more interested in enjoying their time with each other than scrutinizing strangers.
"All right," Mitzi announced, clapping her hands. "We're all together, now, let's play. This is exactly like an old game show you might remember. Who's watched The Love Connection?"
Bill and Saul exchanged nervous glances and Saul visibly swallowed hard. He remembered that old game show, where couples' answers were compared to see who knew the most about their spouse. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered Bill—he felt he knew Saul very well—but, of course, they weren't a couple.
Mitzi shuffled some notecards in her hands. "All right, my first question is for those of you on my right side." Saul paled. "What color are your partner's eyes?"
Bill picked up his pencil and scribbled blue on his paper. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the others on his side. He spotted Sheila and she gave him a small smile.
"Saul," Mitzi said, nodding to Bill's pseudo-husband, "do you know what color Bill's eyes are?"
"Oh, that's easy," Saul said, closing his eyes, as if to prove he could do it blind. "They're blue."
Bill breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn't known each other for thirty years and skipped that little detail.
The next question, posed to Bill, was easy, too. He knew that Saul's middle name was Vincent, just as sure as he knew his own name. That was the first question another couple faltered on, as the man sitting next to Bill didn't know his own wife's middle name.
"What color is your partner's toothbrush?"
He's never going to get that one, Bill thought, but he wrote his answer down anyway. Everyone on Saul's side looked very nervous, but Saul answered without missing a beat.
"It's white." He smiled. "He's got very good dental hygiene, my Bill."
"Is he right?" Mitzi asked.
Bill nodded, holding up his answer sheet.
Saul smiled smugly, and for some reason it made Bill's stomach do a flip-flop. He was such a good friend. Bill felt lucky to have him.
Bill was the first to bungle a question. It was unsurprising: Who initiated your first kiss?
He thought hard. If he and Saul were a couple, who would have kissed who first? He tried to imagine kissing Saul. Who would initiate it? What would it be like? He found himself getting distracted, trying to picture the feel of Saul's lips on his. What would Saul do with his hands? Bill felt a shiver run up his back and he shook his head. What the hell's wrong with you?
Saul, he wrote, and he looked up at his friend, hoping to send him a telepathic message. Say yourself. Say yourself.
Apparently, Bill needed to work on his psychic message skills, as Saul answered that Bill had initiated their first kiss. Everyone chuckled, and Bill felt embarrassed, which surprised him.
All of this was made up anyway. Why should it bother him that these strangers thought he couldn't remember that?
"Okay, Bill," Mitzi said, turning back to him. "What is Saul going to say you do that annoys him most?"
Bill thought about it. Saul's expression was calm; he seemed confident that Bill would answer correctly. The trouble was, he had no idea what the answer would be. He was just as in the dark for this as he'd been for the kiss question.
"I wear socks to bed," he finally said. One time, on Atlantia, Saul had made fun of him for that, though it didn't annoy him. But perhaps if they slept in the same bed, it would.
The grin that split Saul's face was one of the best Bill had ever seen. He flipped his paper over.
He goes to sleep with socks on.
There was a smattering of applause. Bill had redeemed himself. He beamed at Saul and Saul beamed back. They didn't make a bad couple, now, did they?
From there on out, the questions only got harder. The next one was "Who's on top?"
That produced some titters from the other couples and Bill hoped he wasn't blushing. He'd die if he was blushing. He looked up at Saul, though he didn't meet his eyes.
Bill stared at his paper, trying to figure out what to write down. What would it be like if he and Saul… well, what if they were really married? He tried to glance up at Saul again, but his eyes were focused on any part of the room but Bill. The molding around the ceiling was apparently fascinating.
Well, thought Bill. I'd probably like to be on top. But so would Saul, I guess. It wasn't as if he knew the details of any of Saul's dalliances with other guys, though he knew Saul was just as happy to be with a man as with a woman. Bill tapped his pencil on his knee.
Finally, he scribbled However the mood strikes us. He supposed that was a neutral enough answer to keep him from getting in any trouble with Saul later, which was what he was most concerned about. His main hope now was that their relationship survived their marriage.
"Question for you, Saul," Mitzi said. "What do you think Bill just wrote down?"
"Well," Saul said, threading his fingers behind his head and adopting a casual air, "I imagine he wrote something about switching off, just going with it."
Bill held up what he'd written so the group could see and cleared his throat. "We're very concerned with equality in our house," he said. "Except," he added, after a beat, "it always seems like I'm the one scrubbing the greasy pans."
Everyone laughed, and Saul's grin just grew wider. Bill felt himself smiling in response. This was fun, pretending like this. It wasn't actually a huge stretch, anyway. He and Saul had shared barracks, quarters, bathrooms. There really were some things about Bill that only Saul knew, and vice versa.
"If your partner could tack a traffic sign to the headboard of your bed, what would it be?"
There was another round of laughter. As the questions got more risqué, everyone seemed to be loosening up a bit, even Bill. He was feeling more comfortable in his seldom-worn civilian clothes, for one thing.
Over here, nobody knew he was the commander of Galactica. To every person in this room he was a stranger. A newlywed. A man who knew his husband very well.
Channel Saul, he thought. What would he write down?
Saul was smirking.
Frak.
"Bill?" Mitzi asked.
"Yield," Bill said. It was the first traffic sign that popped into his head, and really, it was a stupid answer.
Saul's smirk widened and he held up his paper. Yield.
Everyone clapped.
"Another point," Mitzi said, sounding impressed. "You two are on a roll."
Bill glanced over at Saul again and he smiled.
One more question." She surveyed her audience. "What will your partner say is the reason they married you?"
Bill felt his mouth go dry. If he'd thought he didn't know what to do for Who's on top?, he had no frakking clue what to write here. Why would Saul have fallen in love with him?
He put the end of his pencil in his mouth and tried to look at Saul over the tops of his glasses. C'mon. What did you see in me when you fake-married me?
Finally, at a loss for anything else to put down, Bill decided to go for the self-deprecating answer. He was the only one who would take me.
He crossed his fingers, willing Saul to say something remotely plausible.
When Mitzi asked Saul the question, at first he didn't say anything. Then, after a moment's pause, he said, in a low voice, "I married him because I am desperately in love with him. He found me when I was in a pretty low place, and he…" Saul's expression softened. "He's just always been there for me, anytime I needed him, for all these years." He paused again and Bill thought he had stopped. Instead, he continued speaking, looking down at his hands. "I couldn't help it. You can't not fall in love with this man." He looked up, then, looked right at Bill and his heart skipped a beat. "I'm lucky, that's what I am," Saul said. "Don't deserve this man."
There was quiet in the room, before Mitzi said, "Saul, that was wonderful. So romantic." There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the other couples.
Bill didn't know how to respond. Either Saul was very, very creative, or.… No, it couldn't be. If Saul actually had feelings for him, he'd know. When Saul was in love, he had it bad. He'd moon over whoever it was, talk about them non-stop, and he moved fast.… Bill had certainly seen Saul in enough relationships to know how relationship-Saul operated.
"So, Bill," Mitzi said. "What did you write down?"
Bill swallowed hard and held up his paper. There was some laughter from the others and Mitzi smiled. "Well, it seems that this was your first time hearing that. I'm glad we were able to help you strengthen your relationship."
Bill and Saul exchanged nervous glances.
"Well, that's the game," Mitzi went on. "I don't think I need to tell you that Bill and Saul are our winners. And I must say it's been a pleasure having you. You obviously know each other very well. I hope you'll come back and play with us later at some point."
"We'll see," Saul said, catching Bill's eye. He was smiling, but there was something unreadable deep in his eyes.
After the game, they were discharged to do what they liked before dinner. They headed for the pool as planned, but Bill didn't feel like swimming. Neither did Saul, for that matter. In fact, perhaps it was his imagination, but Saul's attention seemed to be less drawn to the scantily-clad men and women who populated the pool area than had been Bill's past experience when he had accompanied his best friend to a location where scantily-clad men and women were likely to turn up.
Of course, Bill realized belatedly, he'd only know this if he was staring at Saul. Which he was.
He felt his stomach twist.
He couldn't stop thinking about what had said earlier, his little speech about why he'd supposedly fallen in love with Bill. It had been a good speech. Bill wanted to ask about it later. He could certainly read some of the roots of their friendship in there, but maybe he was just chasing shadows, but there seemed to be something… else there, too.
He couldn't help layering that on top of everything else: the way Saul seemed to be acting very in-character to the point where he seemed determined not to let his eyes wander, to the whole way this had started in the first place.
Had Saul planned this?
No, it was ridiculous. It was too… complicated for Saul to plan—as much as Bill held him in high regard, Saul wasn't exactly the champion of thinking ahead.
Bill lay back down in his lounge chair and craned his neck to look at Saul. For his part, the times he'd had to imagine their relationship was real hadn't been unpleasant. He thought again about the questions about their first kiss and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Did he have a thing for this guy?
If Bill felt awkward in his casual civilian clothes, he felt really awkward in the suit he had changed into for dinner. Mitzi had informed them that the dress code was still technically in place, though allowances could be made for people who hadn't packed formal clothes with them when the Cylons hit.
Bill seldom wore a suit (the last time had been when he'd applied for that job about a million years ago) and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he had strong memories of puking into the gutter on a Gemenon-lit night.
Not very romantic, he thought.
Not that this was supposed to be romantic. Not really.
"You ready, Bill?" Saul asked. His nicest civvie outfit consisted of a dark-blue button-down shirt and gray slacks. Bill allowed himself to think Saul looked nice, since he was doing that now, thinking Saul looked nice.
The restaurant was on the Starlight Deck, which was the largest of the observation decks. Bill gazed out at Galactica again. He missed it, and he was glad he was going back the next day. He didn't feel in control here. He wanted to get back to their old life, the way things had always been, the world where he and Saul worked together in CiC or hung out in Bill's quarters.
"Watch your step, gentlemen," the hostess was telling them as she led them to their table. "Our restaurant is lit only by the stars. It's very romantic, but it can be difficult to navigate."
As if on cue, Bill stumbled and Saul's arm shot out to steady him. "Be careful," he muttered, right in his ear. Bill gave an involuntary shiver. Maybe they should have just had dinner at the café downstairs.
There weren't any menus—just a set meal, so there was nothing to occupy their attention once they'd been seated.
"So," Saul said, his voice low in the dim light. "Tell me, Mr. Smith. Are you having fun?"
Bill wasn't sure what he was trying here. "Yeah, I think I am. What about you, Mr. Smith?"
"Just dandy. Should've married you years ago."
"You never asked," Bill teased. "How did you know I was going to say no?"
There was a pause. "You sayin' I should have asked?"
"I'm just saying you never find out until you ask."
Saul chuckled. "That's very true." Bill saw movement, could tell Saul was shifting in his seat.
Their wine came, then, and the waiter poured it deftly. Bill supposed that, working here, he was used to doing things in the near darkness.
"Could you do it?" he asked Saul.
"Hrm?"
"In the dark," Bill clarified. "Could you work here?"
Saul folded his hands, resting them on the tabletop. "I can do a lot in the dark," he said thoughtfully. "I used to be a deckhand, remember? Couple times during the war, we lost power, had to do it all blind."
Bill frowned. He hadn't meant to make Saul upset. "I could never do that," he said, hoping that might take some of the edge off.
"Oh, really?" Saul shifted again and his foot brushed against Bill's under the table. Bill jumped. "You telling me you're useless in the dark?"
"Not really useless." Bill looked out the window, studying the star patterns. "Just not on the top of my game."
"Well, then." Saul took a slow sip of his wine. "I need you at the top of your game. Reckon we ought to keep the lights on, then?"
The wine was heavy, much richer than Bill was used to. Don't fall asleep, he told himself firmly. The last thing you need is for him to carry you back to bed.
"I'll try my best," he finally said.
"You relaxed yet?" Saul asked.
Bill snorted and looked down at his glass. "You trying to get me drunk?"
"I'm trying to get you to loosen up." Saul sounded just on the edge of exasperation. "Let your hair down. Get that stick out of—"
"Your entrees, gentlemen?" The waiter was back and Bill sensed something hot in front of him. "Enjoy."
There was a rustling across the table as Saul sorted out his napkin and silverware. "Anyway, you just needed a break. I was wondering if it was working."
Bill paused. Was it? He had felt relaxed today, but he'd also felt on edge, ever since he'd made himself aware of what might be… beneath the surface.
"Bill?"
"Yeah, I'm having a great time. I said I was, didn't I?"
Dinner was steak. It was good to have a steak, and for the first bite, Bill was paying more attention to it than he was to Saul.
"Yeah," he finally said.
"C'mon, Bill," Saul said sourly. "Give me a leg to stand on here." Then, he added, in a much lower voice, "I didn't mean for it get like this, you know."
"Like what?"
"This whole married shit. I mean, I thought it might be fun at first, but…" Saul paused. "I didn't mean for it to get so… involved."
"I don't mind," Bill said. "I was having fun."
Saul looked up, and even in the dim light, Bill could see he was startled. "Really? You had fun doing that?"
Bill shrugged. "Didn't you?"
Saul pushed something around on his plate, avoiding Bill's gaze. "Yeah, I guess." He gave a small snort of laughter. "It was fun. Like old times. Remember?"
"Yeah," Bill said. "All those times we used to pretend we were married."
Saul laughed, kicked him under the table. "Keep it down! You know damn well what I mean."
Bill snickered. "I do remember when you needed to get rid of that guy one time."
"That doesn't count," Saul said sharply. "That was an evasive tactic." He sounded less harsh, though, and Bill wondered if he was smiling. "But I must tell you, you make a fantastic pretend husband."
"Thanks." Bill took another sip of his wine. He wondered how many bottles of the good stuff they had left. This might be the last glass of Aerilon wine he ever drank in his life, the last good steak. He was about to say something else, perhaps ask Saul right out whether he'd really been completely pretending, when Saul's foot under the table nudged his again.
Bill raised his eyebrows. Saul smirked. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.
Bill rolled his eyes. "You trying to tell me something?"
"Nah, Bill, my foot just slipped." Saul paused, and then, a little too quickly, said, "Steak's good, though, isn't it? Sure beats the crap they try to pass off as food on Galactica."
Bill, who had a soft-spot for battlestar-standard noodles, didn't say anything.
"Bet you want to get back, though," Saul added. "You can't stand to be away from that boat for more than twenty-four hours. You miss her already, don't you?"
Even in the dark, Bill hid his smile. "You found me out, huh?"
Saul pushed his empty plate away and stretched. "Can't get anything past me. I know all about the woman you've got on the side."
"You mind?"
Saul laughed. "Hell no. I love her, too." He paused and rested his chin on his hand. "I'm glad you're having fun, though." He traced the rim of his wineglass with his finger, staring absently into space. Bill was beginning to wish it wasn't so dark so he could see him. He couldn't get an accurate read of Saul's mood, and maybe it was the wine talking but he was starting to wonder how much of this was still an act.
The rest of dinner was relatively quiet and Bill felt a pang that whatever spark they'd had earlier seemed to have been lost, whatever possibility at something more may have escaped their reach.
"Do we get a check?" he asked, as they finished dessert.
"Nope," Saul said. "It all goes on the big tab. Which I was going to put on our expense report." He grinned.
Bill chuckled. "You sure do know what you're doing."
"So, I suppose that means we can retire any time the mood strikes us," Saul continued. "Want to go back?"
They stood up together and, just as before Saul casually took Bill's elbow as they left the restaurant. The touch gave Bill a pleasantly warm feeling inside. When they left the lobby, they spotted Harry and Sheila. They exchanged smiles and Bill slipped his hand into Saul's, to keep up the ruse just a little while longer on their way to the elevator.
Bill couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different. That's when he realized he and Saul were still holding hands. He looked down. Saul was oblivious, watching the numbers on the display decrease as the elevator descended.
They were still holding hands and Saul hadn't noticed yet.
Bill felt a flare of warmth in his stomach at that realization. Holding Saul's hand felt good. Bill had a sudden and very intense desire not to let go. He couldn't move. He couldn't let Saul notice because then Saul might let go, and Bill didn't want that.
Yes. He'd been debating all evening, all day, really, but now he was pretty sure he didn't want Saul to let go.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. That was when Saul noticed.
He looked down at their joined hands, and then slowly raised his eyes to meet Bill's. They must have stared at each other for several seconds, though Bill had completely lost track. The elevator door began to close and Saul's hand shot out to stop it, breaking the connection. Bill missed him immediately.
"Come on," Saul said gruffly, nodding at the hall. "We gotta talk."
"Saul—"
"Come on." Saul's voice had an edge to it, as he led the way down the hall. Bill felt a nervous pull in the pit of his stomach. He didn't think he'd misread Saul.
When Saul closed the door, it sounded very final.
"Okay," Saul said. "Here we are. We're by ourselves now. We can stop… acting."
"I wasn't acting," Bill said quickly. "I've enjoyed this. It's been fun."
Saul crossed his arms over his chest. "So, because it's been fun, you—?"
"Want to try it for real, yeah." Bill realized how dumb that sounded, but he couldn't figure out any other way to word it. "Were you acting?"
Saul cast his eyes away. "Let's sit down," he said, jerking his head toward the couch. "And talk."
"Answer my question."
Saul looked up at Bill as he sat down, a wary skepticism in his eyes. "What do you think?"
"Saul."
"'Cause if you feel this way, Bill, I just—" Saul shook his head. "I mean, I thought maybe you… you and the President, maybe, but…"
"No," Bill said quickly. "It's not like that. I mean…" He sighed. "Maybe in a parallel universe, but not.…"
Saul said nothing.
"I want this, Saul," Bill said. He was babbling, and he didn't know what to say. "I had fun today, and I—I enjoyed it, and I'd really like to—" He swallowed hard. "If you want to, too, then I—"
"Not 'til we're done talking," Saul said firmly. "Because, gods, Bill, for years, I—I've thought about it, and if you feel the same way, if you want this, if you're ready, I—" He took a deep breath. "I have frakked so much up, Bill. I don't want to frak this up."
"Was this your idea all along?" Bill asked.
"No," Saul said quickly. "Oh, no. It's not like that. I swear. I just wanted us to have a couple days' R&R, thought it might be fun. This married stuff—it just happened. And, yeah, I thought it might be fun to roll with it, pretend, you know? 'Cause I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot," Bill said. Tentatively, he reached out and laid a hand on Saul's arm. "I don't think you're an idiot."
Hesitantly, Saul laid his hand on top of Bill's, curled his fingers around it. It was warm, and the touch sent an electric shock shooting through Bill's body. He smiled.
Belatedly, Bill realized he was never going to find out which of them had initiated their first kiss. Before he knew it, their lips were together and Saul's hand moved from Bill's arm to curl in his hair.
Kissing Saul sent a pleasant tingling all the way down to Bill's toes. He eased closer on the couch, but then realized he wasn't sure where to put his arms—or his feet, for that matter.
They broke the kiss.
"Sorry," Bill said.
Saul was smiling. "Don't be. You—you're a good kisser."
"So are you," Bill said. "I never knew that."
Saul pretended to look offended. "How did you think I was getting laid for all those years?"
Bill smirked. "Your hair?"
Saul rolled his eyes. "I might be put out over that, if I didn't want to kiss you again."
Bill was very glad Saul wasn't put out.
The next morning, Bill was awakened by a numbness in his arm, and it took him a few seconds to remember what had happened the night before.
They'd never talked about how they were going to do about the bed—Bill had always just sort of assumed it was big enough for them to share without causing problems for each other. He hadn't expected what would actually happen, which was that they would share it rather amicably, with Saul going to sleep with his head on Bill's shoulder.
That explained the numbness.
Bill shifted a little, trying to get comfortable without waking Saul. He was having trouble getting his head around what had happened last night and he was half-expecting Saul to wake up, horrified that they were snuggled up together.
But that probably wouldn't happen, not after all that kissing they'd done.
The memories came back in a rush and Bill had the sudden urge to wake Saul so they could kiss some more, so they could see if it would still be as good this morning.
"What time is it?" Saul muttered.
"Dunno," Bill replied. "My watch is on the table and I can't get up if you don't get off me."
There was a pause. "I don't think I really want to get off you."
"Fair enough." Bill dropped a kiss to the top of Saul's head.
They were quiet for a long time, before Bill said, "Better get all the kissing out of your system now. When we go back, we can't—"
Saul sat up and looked down at Bill like he thought he was crazy. "Who says?"
"Regs," Bill started.
Saul rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on getting on the horn and announcing it."
"What if someone finds out?"
Saul leaned down to kiss him. "Nobody'll find out. We can be discreet. I promise I won't hold your hand in public anymore."
Bill looked up at Saul, studying him. Was this really happening? Coming over to Cloud Nine seemed like coming to another world. Would he look at Saul the same way when they were back in uniform, back in CiC, back in their real lives?
He tried to imagine it, just like he'd imagined kissing Saul yesterday before he'd actually done it.
Yeah, he could definitely imagine looking at Saul like this, staring at him across the console from him.
"Okay," he said slowly. "We could try it. See how it goes." He liked kissing Saul and he didn't want to stop—probably, he'd like doing more with Saul, too, eventually.
Saul kissed him again. "I'd like that a lot."
Bill smiled against his lips. With thirty years of friendship down, who said they couldn't try something new?
"We should get up though," Saul continued, though he made no move to do so. "We've got a shuttle to catch."
"Yeah…" Bill said, though he didn't try to get up either.
It was several more minutes before Bill slowly hauled himself out of bed and began to get ready. He wanted to get back to work, but he was reluctant to leave the warm, comfortable bed, where he could just relax.
"Be sad to leave this place," Saul said mournfully. "It was nice to have a chance to spread out."
Bill decided not to comment on the fact that Saul had done no such thing—he'd spent the night curled up next to Bill.
Still, he supposed he'd miss the amenities. He'd noticed that Saul had stuck the ambrosia and the rest of the fruit in his bag.
On second thought, Bill took the small, pink bottle and stuck it in his pocket. It couldn't hurt to be prepared. That stuff might come in handy. He knew Saul loved strawberries.
Racetrack was waiting to take them back to the ship.
"Did you enjoy your R&R, sirs?" she asked, as they waited to be cleared for takeoff.
Bill and Saul exchanged sidelong glances.
"Had a great time," Bill said. He avoided giving Saul another one of those looks—too much might start rumors and Bill was determined to hang onto this as long as possible.
Being back in his quarters felt strange. He'd woken up here yesterday, but so much had changed. As soon as the hatch closed behind them, Saul slipped his hand into Bill's.
"You survived that long," Bill commented, as Saul leaned into kiss him. "Think you can make it the whole watch?"
"It's debatable."
Bill grinned, surprised at the feeling of warmth Saul's smile triggered in him. "Just try to keep your hands to yourself in front of the crew, okay?"
Saul gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir, I'll try to do that, sir."
"Don't do that," Bill said, though he was smiling.
Saul smirked. Clearly, he had just chosen not to pay Bill's admonishment any heed. "You know, we've got time 'til we have to go back on duty."
He took a step forward and Bill dropped his bag. "Probably."
Saul slipped his arms around Bill and pulled him in for another kiss.
It wouldn't hurt to give something like this a try, even back in uniform, Bill thought. He cast his eyes over to the door to make sure it was locked, before deepening the kiss. After all, they'd had thirty years of practice getting to know each other. They made a pretty convincing couple.