Title: It’s Not That Kind of a Shot
by: ellymelly
for: deepforestowl
pairing: don’t die on me – Roslin/Cottle
rated: again, don’t die – NC 17 or R or MA15+ or whatever, just pick the highest rating in you country of origin
Challenge:Pairing/Cottle – comfort sex, multiple orgasms, breast play

Laura relaxed slightly on the couch. It had been an okay day, not a terrible day like yesterday where she felt her body failing, often violently, on her. But then, it hadn’t been a great day either. When it wasn’t the striking pain, it was her mind – it just wouldn’t shut up. It kept muttering things, things like, ‘you’re going to die, Laura’, and, ‘you’re going to die – alone Laura…’ Things that scared her, things that she simply didn’t want to listen to.

So she worked. There seemed to be so much to do, tasks that she alone had set upon her. The dying leader – it was a tough gig. Especially the dying part.

At least, thought Laura, this was the part of the day that she new would help.

Doctor Cottle seated himself opposite her and began digging through his magic bag of goods – pushing things aside in a case that seemed less than orderly. Oh well, who was she to question the management skills of the last doctor in the universe?

Gods dammit – she could feel a dull throb in her abdomen, the pain would start again soon. Cottle must have seen her flinch because he spoke as he retrieved the syringe from his bag.

“You know, there will come a time where you won’t be able to hide what you’re going through.” he said it with one of his famous, ‘I’m going to tell you this, and I know you’re not going to listen – but I’m going to say it anyway’ looks. Laura tried her best not to dissolve – it was the thought that counted anyway. For a grumpy old man, he retained several of the better human qualities. Even a sense of humour from time to time.

She feigned a weak smile, mixed with a tiny warning glare. She was getting treatment for a fatal illness, she had a week or so to live – and she didn’t want to talk about it. Talking made it real.

Talking was not good.

“Alright,” he said, finishing his preparations, “are you ready?”

She lowered her eyes acceptingly, rolling her sleeve back up her arm as she had done a thousand times before, stopping the movement only when she saw Cottle’s demeanor shift and his hand brandish the needle a little playfully. Laura eyed him questioningly.

“Ah – ” he began, slightly unsure as to how to break the news to a very agitated looking president – without ending up out the airlock, “It’s not that kind of a shot…”

A pause, as Laura took a moment to understand his words. And then -

and then… oh this is not my frakking day is it? She realised that this was going to be far less than pleasant. Surely he wasn’t serious – surely… But the way he continued to hover the needle before her declared otherwise. Frak, she thought – the last time she had had a needle in the ass she was thirteen – and she had bit that damn doctor in the hand for his trouble. Laura wondered if the good doctor would be so keen if he learned of the last doctor’s fate…

But frak this – she was a fully grown adult, she could handle a needle in the ass. She was NOT going to endure mind torturing pain for the sake of pride. She simply would not. She was smarter than that. President Laura Roslin decided to suck it up and step to.

A slight nod was the only outward demonstration of the internal power struggle. Soon enough, Laura bent forward as she began to take off her jacket. This is easy, she told herself, just get your kit of, get the shot, move on with life. Well, what’s left of it. It was such a clear instruction, but as she removed her jacket she caught that look – that linger on Cottle’s face, it was a little longer than a doctor’s supposed to… And all of a sudden the prospect of getting a shot seemed far more complicated than before….

And it’s not that she was in love with him. Or that she found him irresistible. It was that she was alone – tired, and about to die.

Jack was not much different – he, like everyone else, found himself – for all intensive purposes, alone in a world that had ended on him. The fear of death constant for every moment lived. It was a hard life, and it brought the most unexpected of people together.

Despite herself, Laura finished with her jacket and laid it to rest on the table in front of her. Carefully placing it next to Cottle’s medicine bag – he still holding the brimming needle, its clear substance deathly still.

They had not said anything – this was still about getting a shot and Laura knew that the next logical step was to remove her skirt – but hell, how was she supposed to do that now?

Dr. Cottle moved closer, leaving his seat opposite to join her on the couch. It was practical enough, it wasn’t like she expected him to reach across the table or anything. Nonetheless, it was a move that forced her to make the next decision.

She stared at him for some time, conflicted – it wasn’t fair to embrace him, she knew that.

“Laura? Is there something wrong?” he looked her, confused as her eyes darkened, glistening slightly. He moved further towards her, now concerned – he was surprised that she had held up this long mentally, he didn’t know how much further her strength could be stretched. “Laura?” he repeated, softer this time. It was enough, without warning Laura turned to look at him directly and unflinching. The words that followed, mustered from somewhere inside her that he had always expected, but never knew for sure, existed.

“I don’t want to die.” She shook her head determinately, leant in, and kissed him.

Jack was in a slight state of shock, making out with the President of the Colonies hadn’t been on his ‘to do’ list for the day – or lifetime for that matter… And for reasons he didn’t even understand, he didn’t pull away like he should have.

It was rough at first – unplanned and a little awkward, neither party really certain of anything. Slowly though, they re-positioned themselves, Cottle placing the needle he had almost forgotten about on the table beside them and turning to face her. Laura leant in closer, not yet ready to break a kiss she had no rational reason for initiating.

When it finally did end, they both pulled away. It had been a desperate, rare moment of need from Laura. She needed someone, and he was there.

“I’m sorry.” she managed, brushing the damp skin below her eyes that she averted to the window beside her. The space outside was cold. Dark and bleak. They were lost somewhere, the whole of humanity, drifting in the middle of nowhere in pursuit of something she was supposed to find before she died. How did life get this bad?

“No don’t.” replied Jack, taking her hands, he didn’t want to hear this from her – she had no reason to apologise, for anything. “Don’t apologise. Not for that.”

“Oh.” Was all she managed.

“It would be a frakked up world if we apologised for that.”

He had a point.

This time it was Jack who leant forward, brushing his lips carefully over hers, testing her – not sure if she would follow, if she needed this as much as he did. Laura did not disappoint, sliding one hand up to slip around the back of his neck and tangle her fingers in his hair – pulling him closer still. If the gods punished them for this selfish act, then gods be damned, they had suffered enough.

Without further discussion, the once gentle brushing of lips turned desperate, neither party letting their need for oxygen deprive them of the comfort this act brought. At some point, neither was sure when, hands had begun to explore the other. Boldly moving through layers of clothing and status, slowly reducing them to just two people, in need of each other.

Jack parted her shirt as they each drew a swift breath before returning to each other, Laura moaning softly as he traced a random pattern across her exposed flesh. She tensed momentarily, the last of her defenses and inhibitions wearing short.

It wasn’t fair to sleep with him, she knew that.

But at this point, neither of them cared.

Remaining vertical soon became a challenge. Laura, sensing this, relaxed her lower back where Cottle’s had settled, neatly resting at the base of her spine. As she relaxed, she took both of them on a slow path down toward the softness of the couch which willing accepted the pair on their descent.

Laura parted with her shirt as the indulgence continued, Jack now bringing his hand gradually up the inside of her thigh, lingering as it reached the boarders of a persistent skirt. He hesitated. Laura felt her entire existence depending upon this release of emotion, if it stopped, she would follow shortly after.

“Don’t you dare frakking stop.” her voice hitched over the sentence, Jack regaining his confidence – his hand encroaching over the barrier, breaking its bounds without second thought or further hesitation.

They sank further down together, forgetting everything about their surroundings. When Jack’s fingers entered her she was already lost, far beyond the bounds of the room – the couch and Jack. Everything was reduced to pure feeling now. Touch and taste, the soft murmurings in anticipation of the ecstasy. They both longed for that one brief glimpse of nothing – and everything. The only time that the mind freed itself of everything, including pain.

Unable to wait longer, Laura pulled Jack closer, wrapping one of her legs around his waist, tightening her grip on him, allowing him to enter her. The action brought them both close, each lost in an almost drunken existence. It felt so good to be held. To be needed, even for a short time. And neither was letting go -

Laura relished the feeling of him moving inside her, each second running shorter than the next as the unavoidable end threatened to approach. Jack reached deeper, clutching her with equal ferocity. Again, and again and again before every muscle clenched, contracted – squeezing in on themselves.

The pain stopped. The world ceased to move and the darkness hid. It was beautiful.

It was nothing… At last.

When it was over, and they had laid in each others arms long enough to will themselves back to reality. They dressed without speaking.

Soon enough Cottle was packing away his instruments into his bag, preparing to leave her alone with her own thoughts.

He stood to leave first – and Laura followed, regaining enough of herself to walk him to the door.

That’s when she noticed it. Laura lifted her head, straightening her jacked, “You forgot to give me a shot!”

Jack turned, and dead flat as a viper deck, replied, “It wasn’t that kind of a shot.”

*~*

The space outside was still cold – and the darkness no less deep. For the first time, though, in a long time, Laura noticed that this black cloth of night was not pitch – but imperfect. The tiniest of pinpricks beckoning from far away. Stars that she had not seen until this moment. Their light was distant, but she knew that close up those stars were burning fiercely – their fire warming lumps of rocks that revolved around in orbit. And just maybe, if they were very lucky, around one of those stars was a little rock.

A rock called Earth.

And maybe – just maybe, they would make it there.