Ron Moore owns Bill and Laura; Patrick and Eugene own the title.

We're In This Together

This dinner was going to be a disaster.

Bill Adama knew it, even before the table had been set, even before their guests had arrived. It was going be agonizing, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And the worst part was, it had been his idea.

Laura had never pushed to meet his children. In the eight months since they'd met, they'd never talked about the future, or at least not their future; as commander of the battlestar Galactica, his life was up in space, and as Secretary of Education of the Twelve Colonies, Laura's life was here on Caprica.

Bill already knew he was going to marry her.

And he had a plan.

So when his leave and Kara's leave coincided, and Lee's admission to Artemis University Law School put him on the same planet as Zak's residency at Asclepius Hospital, it had seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. He could catch up with his children without giving up an evening with Laura; Zak and Lee could meet their future stepmother (even if both they and Laura didn't know it quite yet); he could have everyone he loved under the same roof.

Now, he wondered if he'd had someone else's children in mind when he made these plans.

It was going to be a bloodbath.

Laura was in the kitchen, uncorking the wine. Her kitchen, he should say; it was her house, not his, not theirs. But over the past few months, as he'd taken every opportunity to make it back to Caprica, as he'd spent nights and mornings and afternoons at Laura's house, as more and more of his things ended up here, mixed in with hers…he couldn't help but feel that someday they might be living here together, sharing a life in these rooms.

He thought Laura felt the same way.

He hoped Laura felt the same way.

She turned, tossing a smile over her shoulder. "The food's on the table," she told him. "My mother always said, if you're going to serve takeout, serve it in fancy bowls."

The first time Bill had met Laura, she'd been dressed in head-to-toe black; they'd been at a funeral, after all. She'd been stunning then. But looking at her now, her red-gold waves loose around her shoulders, her crimson dress setting off her porcelain skin and the light green of her eyes…he couldn't imagine what he'd done to deserve her.

He came up behind her and brushed a stray strand of red hair aside to press a kiss to her neck. "The food looks perfect," he said. "And I apologize for my children in advance."

Laura leaned back into his arms. "Now you tell me."

The doorbell rang.

Bill's arms tightened around her waist. "Is it too late for us to pretend we're not home?"

Too late, he realized what he'd said.

Laura, already on her way to the door, didn't appear to have noticed. "This was your idea," she reminded him.

"I was hoping we could forget that part," Bill muttered, as Laura put a smile on her face and opened the door.

It was Lee, a bottle of wine in his hand and an awkward smile on his face. He and his son exchanged a wary nod of greeting. From the look on Lee's face, Bill deduced that his attempts to convey both Just a casual dinner, no big deal as well as I will kill you if you frak this up when he'd extended the invitation might have made things worse, instead of better.

He watched Lee take in Laura, and then glance back at him. Looking at Laura, Bill couldn't exactly blame him.

Laura stepped aside, smiling through the tension. "You must be Lee. Come in!"

Lee came inside—a bit gingerly, Bill thought—and Laura closed the door behind him.

"Thank you," she said, taking the bottle from him and handing it to Bill to uncork.

Glad for an escape from the awkwardness, Bill went to pour the wine. When he returned with the glasses, Laura was sitting on the couch, Lee perched awkwardly in the chair beside her.

"So I hear you're in law school," Laura was saying.

Lee nodded. "My first semester."

Bill gave him a glass, along with a look that attempted to communicate how much trouble Lee was going to be in if he didn't meet Laura at least halfway.

Lee just looked confused.

"You must be very busy, then," Laura continued, her smile never wavering. "I'm so glad you could make the time to join us tonight."

"Me, too," Lee said, in the least convincing tone Bill had ever heard in his life.

Bill was saved from trying to telepathically communicate a death threat to his son by the ringing of the doorbell.

It was Zak, still in his scrubs, and his fiancée, Kara, in ripped jeans and a paint-splattered tank top, each holding a bottle of wine.

Bill suppressed a sigh. Dinner with the Secretary of Education, not to mention his future wife, and only Lee could manage to dress appropriately?

He was going to have to have serious words with all of them.

Zak shook his hand, nodded at Lee—currently occupied in pouring himself another glass of wine—and then turned to Laura.

"You must be Laura Roslin," Zak said, coming forward to shake her hand, a broad smile on his face. "It's so good to meet you."

At least Zak had good manners.

"Zak, right?" Laura asked, shaking his hand. "I'm so glad you could make it."

That obstacle overcome, Bill turned to Kara. "This is a first," he said, folding her into his arms. "You're actually on time."

"Lee threatened to kill us in our sleep if we left him to face this alone," Kara said cheerfully.

Bill shot her a warning look that could have frozen the wine but had absolutely no effect on Kara Thrace.

The tips of Lee's ears turned red. He cleared his throat. "That's not—I mean, I don't remember phrasing it quite like that—"

Bill was going to kill all of them.

Laura laughed out loud. "And you must be Kara," she said, holding out her hand for Kara's. "I'm so relieved. I thought I was the only one who felt a little awkward here."

Even Lee laughed, and for a moment, Bill thought they might survive this evening after all.

But just for a moment.

"So how's your residency going?" Laura asked Zak, halfway through dinner.

Bill had to hand it to her; since their rocky beginning, she'd coaxed funny flight school stories from Kara, graciously answered questions from Zak on her work in the Cabinet, and even gotten Lee to warm up enough to talk about his classes. (He'd answered Laura's questions thoughtfully, while shooting dark looks at his father across the table, just daring him to disapprove. Bill had pretended he didn't notice.) He wasn't sure if she was making the effort with his children for his sake, or if she'd just been in politics for so long that trying to win over an unfriendly crowd was second nature to her now.

He knew Laura cared about him. That was clear. But when she looked at his kids, did she see them as becoming part of her family? Or was tonight just another dinner party for her?

"It's going really well," Zak said, his smile easy. "In fact…" He reached for Kara's hand. "Kara and I are thinking about getting married this year, instead of waiting."

Lee choked on his wine.

Kara flushed. "Honey, we don't have to talk about that now—"

Bill looked from Zak's face—happy and oblivious—to Kara's face—awkward and guilty—to Lee's face—angry and guilty—and suppressed a groan. So he hadn't been wrong about what had been going on, after all.

Frak.

He chanced a look at Laura; from the lift to her eyebrows, he knew she was seeing the same thing that he was. Bill tried to communicate This isn't their best night, I swear with his eyes.

Laura tilted her head to one side, confused.

He gave up and poured them both more wine. Laura was breaking up with him after tonight, he just knew it. Why couldn't he just have a normal family?

"Congratulations to both of you," Laura said, smoothly filling the increasingly hostile silence. "Of course," she added, casting a look in Lee's direction, who was busy downing his wine in one gulp, "a hospital residency is a very serious commitment. I imagine that requires all your focus…"

"Yes, commitment is very important," Bill said, putting perhaps slightly more emphasis on the word than had been strictly required.

From the look on Lee's face, it occurred to Bill that he was perhaps not the only Adama in the room contemplating homicide.

It also belatedly dawned on Bill that given their numerous arguments on the subject of Lee's resignation from the fleet, he could perhaps have chosen a better word. Preferably one that didn't turn his son's face this particular shade of purple.

"Lee…" he began.

"Is that why you gave up your command for a job teaching at officer candidate school?" Lee interrupted, his voice rising. "Didn't you make a commitment? To your ship? To your crew?"

There was no doubt about it; he was going to kill Lee, and he was going to do it tonight.

"Lee—" he thundered.

"Laura, this dinner is delicious," Zak put in.

Laura looked at Bill, then at Lee, then back at Bill. "You what?"

Bill hesitated. This was the last possible way he would have wanted her to find out. "I was going to tell you," he began. "I just didn't want to say anything until I knew it was for sure…"

Lee pushed his chair back from the table. "I'm sorry, I should go—"

Kara rolled her eyes. "What, just when it's getting interesting?"

Laura ignored them. "Does this mean you'll be moving back to Caprica full-time?" she asked Bill, her green eyes unreadable.

Maybe he'd overestimated Laura's feelings for him, after all.

He nodded. "I won't be retired, but it's a steady job with regular hours." He paused, hoping he hadn't pushed too far, presumed too much. "I wouldn't even have to live on the base."

"So will you be apartment hunting, or will you just move in here?" Kara asked over the rim of her glass.

"Kara," Lee pleaded.

A slow smile spread across Laura's face. She took a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving Bill's. "I did always say this place was a little big for me."

Bill grinned and reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I suppose it's settled, then."

"I suppose it is," Laura replied, her tone indifferent, her smile wicked.

Bill was suddenly glad they'd had this dinner, after all.

He was still going to kill Lee, though.