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Morning on the Bebop
May. 23rd, 2006 10:30 amQ: What's the best damn way to wake up in the morning?
A: In a nice cozy bed on a ship hovering out in space, a view of the sunlight hitting Mars through the window, with Beth on top and that fierce glint of don't you dare fucking stop moving like that in her eyes.
Yeah, he's pretty sure it doesn't get any goddamn better than this. Hands still on her hips, his head sinks back into the softness of the pillow: yesterday's mood is gone, gone, gone and he's ready to say fuck you to fate.
Beth's his woman and she's so beautiful. She deserves the best of everything life has to offer, no matter what planet or moon or asteroid or ship they're on, no matter where in time, no matter where in reality. Once his heart stops racing and his breathing steadies enough, his eyes open again into slits and he grins up at Beth. "Love you, Beth." His hands don't move an inch. "Let's stay."
Stay out here, away from Mars. "I heard of this great little place on Venus. They love blondes and guys with green hair. And they serve the best goddamn martinis in the whole solar system, and the beds are softer than that one in New France." He's teasing, but it's just good-natured shit: nothing serious about it. Still, he'll hedge his bets on a place like that existing somewhere, even if it's not on Venus. "Hell, Slim, let's stay. We can do this every morning." (Like that's a selling point: they already do.)
The truth of it all is that he just plain loves her in every way possible. It's hard to take fate and the future seriously right after great sex anyhow. Finally moving one hand, he wraps it around her neck and meets her halfway for a damn nice kiss. In moments like this, the rest of it is all just some obscure fairy tale.
A: In a nice cozy bed on a ship hovering out in space, a view of the sunlight hitting Mars through the window, with Beth on top and that fierce glint of don't you dare fucking stop moving like that in her eyes.
Yeah, he's pretty sure it doesn't get any goddamn better than this. Hands still on her hips, his head sinks back into the softness of the pillow: yesterday's mood is gone, gone, gone and he's ready to say fuck you to fate.
Beth's his woman and she's so beautiful. She deserves the best of everything life has to offer, no matter what planet or moon or asteroid or ship they're on, no matter where in time, no matter where in reality. Once his heart stops racing and his breathing steadies enough, his eyes open again into slits and he grins up at Beth. "Love you, Beth." His hands don't move an inch. "Let's stay."
Stay out here, away from Mars. "I heard of this great little place on Venus. They love blondes and guys with green hair. And they serve the best goddamn martinis in the whole solar system, and the beds are softer than that one in New France." He's teasing, but it's just good-natured shit: nothing serious about it. Still, he'll hedge his bets on a place like that existing somewhere, even if it's not on Venus. "Hell, Slim, let's stay. We can do this every morning." (Like that's a selling point: they already do.)
The truth of it all is that he just plain loves her in every way possible. It's hard to take fate and the future seriously right after great sex anyhow. Finally moving one hand, he wraps it around her neck and meets her halfway for a damn nice kiss. In moments like this, the rest of it is all just some obscure fairy tale.
