![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Sep. 18th, 2005 12:49 amSome nights, if he can't sleep, he sits up and looks out the window. He never moves out of their bed -- he doesn't want to disturb Beth -- but there's something of a siren song in seeing those stars out there.
Makes him feel like he's back in the Solar System idling between planets on the ship. If he closes his eyes really tight, he can almost hear the background hum of the Bebop's engines. When you live on a ship like that, you stop noticing that ever-present noise, just like you stop seeing the cobalt of the emergency lights or the dripping of antifreeze and coolant. But it doesn't mean it's not still there.
Tonight, however, he's not looking out the window. He was sleeping soundly but something, he's not sure what, woke him. And though he's tempted to just lie here, eyes closed, and try to will himself back to sleep, he doesn't. Next to him, Beth shifts and rolls over so she's facing him and wraps one arm around him and she's still sound asleep.
That makes him smile.
Without disturbing her, without waking her, he resettles so he's on his side instead of his back. So he can watch her through his own half-open eyes until sleep reclaims him. He starts to make a list: love the little upturn of your lips, you sleepy smiling beauty. Love the tilt of your nose, the arch of your eyebrows, the way your hair falls over your face as you sleep and it doesn't even really bother you. He feels her arm tighten just a little bit around his body.
Love your mind. The way you think.
Moving as little as possible, he reaches over and runs his thumb across her eyebrow. His eyes close again; there's something hynotic and mesmerizing about the rhythm of it. Sleepily, he leans forward and kisses her on the lips before letting his head settle back on his pillow, satisfied, sated. No need now for anything but sleep: everything he needs is right here in this room above the bar at the end of the universe. Stars on the ceiling, each heartbeat like a burst of sunlight, and his whole world in his arms.
As sleep and dreams start to lull him back to their realm, the last thing he knows is that he's smiling.
Goodnight, Beth.
Makes him feel like he's back in the Solar System idling between planets on the ship. If he closes his eyes really tight, he can almost hear the background hum of the Bebop's engines. When you live on a ship like that, you stop noticing that ever-present noise, just like you stop seeing the cobalt of the emergency lights or the dripping of antifreeze and coolant. But it doesn't mean it's not still there.
Tonight, however, he's not looking out the window. He was sleeping soundly but something, he's not sure what, woke him. And though he's tempted to just lie here, eyes closed, and try to will himself back to sleep, he doesn't. Next to him, Beth shifts and rolls over so she's facing him and wraps one arm around him and she's still sound asleep.
That makes him smile.
Without disturbing her, without waking her, he resettles so he's on his side instead of his back. So he can watch her through his own half-open eyes until sleep reclaims him. He starts to make a list: love the little upturn of your lips, you sleepy smiling beauty. Love the tilt of your nose, the arch of your eyebrows, the way your hair falls over your face as you sleep and it doesn't even really bother you. He feels her arm tighten just a little bit around his body.
Love your mind. The way you think.
Moving as little as possible, he reaches over and runs his thumb across her eyebrow. His eyes close again; there's something hynotic and mesmerizing about the rhythm of it. Sleepily, he leans forward and kisses her on the lips before letting his head settle back on his pillow, satisfied, sated. No need now for anything but sleep: everything he needs is right here in this room above the bar at the end of the universe. Stars on the ceiling, each heartbeat like a burst of sunlight, and his whole world in his arms.
As sleep and dreams start to lull him back to their realm, the last thing he knows is that he's smiling.
Goodnight, Beth.
