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singerdiva01Title: On the Admiral's Secret Service
Rating: T
Summary: I think this may very nearly fall under crack!fic. Or at least utter ridiculousness.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plaid_slytherin mentioned, in an entirely better context, bodyguards and it got my brain thinking of what the Admiral and president's marines must have had to endure if they really, truly were frakking as much as shippers like me write they were. And this happened. Sorry.
Corporal Devin Jensen smiled down at the struggling redhead in his arms who was currently in the middle of telling him off.
“I’m fine. I’m not that drunk and the Admiral will have a heart attack if he sees you carrying me. Put me down. Now, Corporal!”
The president’s order was belied by the slurring of every third word and the fact that she’d fallen out of her heels into his arms at the exit of Joe’s Bar.
Jensen’s smile fell as he remembered the last time he’d carried this very slight woman from, rather than to, the Admiral’s quarters shortly after she’d collapsed in those supposed last days of her battle with cancer.
Getting plastered with Kara Thrace was a far more hilarious reason for having to bodily transport his commander in chief. Though, he admitted silently, the first time hadn’t come with the threat of the airlock.
“I’m giving you a direct order,” the president demanded, backing her words up with ineffectual slaps to his armored chest.
“I don’t actually work for you, ma’am, and the Admiral will have my ass if I let something happen to you on his ship.”
She glared menacingly.
“Everyone works for me. And I have the keys to the airlock!”
Jensen bit back his chuckle and set his sights on the hatch his colleague, Corporal Vega, had already opened. True to the president’s predictions the Admiral shadowed the doorway with a concerned look on his face.
Deciding Laura Roslin might really airlock him if he delivered her directly into Adama’s arms he compromised, setting her on her feet inches away from the hatch so either he or the older man could catch her if she stumbled.
Which she did. Directly into the Admiral’s waiting embrace.
“Airlock him, Bill. For disrespecting the president and disobeying an order,” she slurred, her face already buried in a hard shoulder swathed in blue wool.
The Admiral smiled down into her auburn curls and then glanced more seriously up at the marine.
“Thank you, Jensen. We’re in for the night.”
Jensen saluted solemnly and the hatch closed before he and Vega’s glances met and they collapsed into laughter.
“In for the night indeed,” Vega wheezed, still clutching the wall for support.
The two men settled in for a quiet night but, not an hour later, they heard blood curdling female screams echoing from inside the hatch.
One glance between them and they were through the door, guns bared.
Both men paused at the sight in front of them. The president of the Twelve Colonies was in her bra and panties and firmly handcuffed to the legs of the Admiral’s desk, the man himself leering over her small frame. She had a look of terror on her face.
The marines exchanged glances before simultaneously pointing their guns at their commanding officer. They might work for him but their duty as men lay with a woman, their president no less, in trouble.
Roslin’s eyes went wide at the sight of weapons pointed at her lover and she immediately sobered.
“Stand down, marines. The Admiral here was just running hostage drills with me.”
Unfortunately Adama, never as quick even while sober, responded at the same time.
“She wanted me to...it’s kind of a thing.”
The almost naked woman bound to the desk arched her back into her most presidential pose and glared at Adama before addressing the marines.
“I truly appreciate your service to the office of the president tonight and I trust myself and the admiral can count on your discretion. Please see yourselves out and be advised that in the future similar disturbances are to be ignored.”
She set a hard glare on the door and both marines followed the path, feeling from the president’s gaze and tone they had been the ones acting inappropriately.
Jensen and Vega stared down at the floor once the hatch was closed, unsure how to react. Jensen broke the silence first.
“Frak me. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her.”
Vega looked at his partner seriously before falling into laughter once again.
“Well, I think she definitely has it in her right about now.”
Their helpless giggles drowned out the presidential peal they would have otherwise heard from behind the hatch.
Rating: T
Summary: I think this may very nearly fall under crack!fic. Or at least utter ridiculousness.
plaid_slytherin mentioned, in an entirely better context, bodyguards and it got my brain thinking of what the Admiral and president's marines must have had to endure if they really, truly were frakking as much as shippers like me write they were. And this happened. Sorry. Corporal Devin Jensen smiled down at the struggling redhead in his arms who was currently in the middle of telling him off.
“I’m fine. I’m not that drunk and the Admiral will have a heart attack if he sees you carrying me. Put me down. Now, Corporal!”
The president’s order was belied by the slurring of every third word and the fact that she’d fallen out of her heels into his arms at the exit of Joe’s Bar.
Jensen’s smile fell as he remembered the last time he’d carried this very slight woman from, rather than to, the Admiral’s quarters shortly after she’d collapsed in those supposed last days of her battle with cancer.
Getting plastered with Kara Thrace was a far more hilarious reason for having to bodily transport his commander in chief. Though, he admitted silently, the first time hadn’t come with the threat of the airlock.
“I’m giving you a direct order,” the president demanded, backing her words up with ineffectual slaps to his armored chest.
“I don’t actually work for you, ma’am, and the Admiral will have my ass if I let something happen to you on his ship.”
She glared menacingly.
“Everyone works for me. And I have the keys to the airlock!”
Jensen bit back his chuckle and set his sights on the hatch his colleague, Corporal Vega, had already opened. True to the president’s predictions the Admiral shadowed the doorway with a concerned look on his face.
Deciding Laura Roslin might really airlock him if he delivered her directly into Adama’s arms he compromised, setting her on her feet inches away from the hatch so either he or the older man could catch her if she stumbled.
Which she did. Directly into the Admiral’s waiting embrace.
“Airlock him, Bill. For disrespecting the president and disobeying an order,” she slurred, her face already buried in a hard shoulder swathed in blue wool.
The Admiral smiled down into her auburn curls and then glanced more seriously up at the marine.
“Thank you, Jensen. We’re in for the night.”
Jensen saluted solemnly and the hatch closed before he and Vega’s glances met and they collapsed into laughter.
“In for the night indeed,” Vega wheezed, still clutching the wall for support.
The two men settled in for a quiet night but, not an hour later, they heard blood curdling female screams echoing from inside the hatch.
One glance between them and they were through the door, guns bared.
Both men paused at the sight in front of them. The president of the Twelve Colonies was in her bra and panties and firmly handcuffed to the legs of the Admiral’s desk, the man himself leering over her small frame. She had a look of terror on her face.
The marines exchanged glances before simultaneously pointing their guns at their commanding officer. They might work for him but their duty as men lay with a woman, their president no less, in trouble.
Roslin’s eyes went wide at the sight of weapons pointed at her lover and she immediately sobered.
“Stand down, marines. The Admiral here was just running hostage drills with me.”
Unfortunately Adama, never as quick even while sober, responded at the same time.
“She wanted me to...it’s kind of a thing.”
The almost naked woman bound to the desk arched her back into her most presidential pose and glared at Adama before addressing the marines.
“I truly appreciate your service to the office of the president tonight and I trust myself and the admiral can count on your discretion. Please see yourselves out and be advised that in the future similar disturbances are to be ignored.”
She set a hard glare on the door and both marines followed the path, feeling from the president’s gaze and tone they had been the ones acting inappropriately.
Jensen and Vega stared down at the floor once the hatch was closed, unsure how to react. Jensen broke the silence first.
“Frak me. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her.”
Vega looked at his partner seriously before falling into laughter once again.
“Well, I think she definitely has it in her right about now.”
Their helpless giggles drowned out the presidential peal they would have otherwise heard from behind the hatch.
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