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[not_that_spike]

There probably won't be a hell of a lot of evenings downstairs in the bar, at least not for a while. Beth Junior's too little; he doesn't want her around all that noise and smoke and bright lights and shit like that. And he might be wearing that brand fucking new dad label, but there's a few things that even Beth Junior can't distract him from or make him forget.

Two years ago tonight, some random beautiful angel made a crack about his hair, shared a smoke with him, a martini, and an episode of scar show-and-tell. If there's anything here that deserves celebration, this is it. So while she's feeding Beth Junior he sneaks down to the bar and orders up a bunch of her favorite foods: some lobster, some steak, a nice salad on the side, a bowl of ripe juicy strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. A bottle of wine and a bottle of sparkling water -- her choice, whatever she wants -- some fresh bread... and a very small plate of potechi.

Just for effect.

Pushing open the door quietly with his shoulder, he brings in the tray (complete with a stargazer lily in a vase). There's a smile on his face and fuck if he can or wants to wipe it away: these have been the best two years of his whole sorry life. Even with the separation; even with the bullshit in Cooksfield and the bullshit in Tharsis. He can't ever remember looking back over a period of time and feeling so complete. Junior's sleeping in Beth's arms; he sets the tray down on the bed right near her.

"Hey." His voice is a whisper; he doesn't want to disturb the baby. "I met you two years ago tonight, Beth. I think that's worth a little private party." He figures he can feed her or set Beth Junior into her swing for a little bit so they can actually eat together. Then, later, if little Beth's still sleeping, he can brush her hair and rub her back and her feet and tell her stories or read to her, or just hold her. "And I sure love the hell out of you, ma'am. You're the best damn woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Comments

[stbethadettes]

He's really goddamn sweet. There's no doubt about that. And she does kind of wonder about all the women he's known if she's the absolute best, but at this point she's not sure it wouldn't bother her more if he didn't think that about her.

It's kind of a funny thought, but it's there. And it's certainly evidence that she loves him.

"I hope you don't mind if there's a party crasher." She waggles her captured finger very gently. "She'll probably sleep through it all anyway. We can put her in the swing."

And it'll almost be like it's a private party. A private party where there's a newborn baby in a swing.

She can live with that.

[not_that_spike]

"Okay." Reaching over, he works Beth Junior's hand away from Beth's, pleased as hell that he's able to do it without waking her up. She's his favorite party crasher, actually, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "One sleeping party crasher goes to bed." Holding her carefully -- he's nowhere near real comfortable with her in his arms yet, but he's getting there -- he presses a kiss to her forehead, then sets her in the basket and tucks the blanket around her. For a moment he just stands there watching her, pride kind of pouring out from every crevice.

Then he sets the swing's motion on very, very slow, and he's glad for whatever technology makes it measured and absolutely silent. It's just like someone's rocking her back and forth, back and forth; she bunches up a tiny perfect fist and moves the knuckles to her mouth, sleeping contentedly.

She's... as perfect a baby as Beth is a woman, and he's pretty damn honored to be able to share this time with them. After too long a moment where it's evident his heart's been stolen, he moves to sit next to Beth thinking that living above a bar that serves the best food in the universe 24x7 -- or however time works here -- is a hell of a benefit for new parents.

Plus, it's their anniversary; he unfolds a cloth napkin and, with a flick of his wrist, pulls a perfectly fragrant yellow-and-green Martian flower (a "Crater Tuberose" according to the book) out of it, tucking it into Beth's hand. "Oh, hey, look at that." Like he didn't know it was there; he just likes to see the way her eyes light up when he does that shit. "Your napkin, ma'am. And a plate for you, and your food... and what'll it be? A glass of..." He reaches for the bottle and reads the label. "...what do you know? It's a New France Pinot Noir, 2069 vintage. Or some sparkling water. Or both. Or neither, and damn, are you beautiful."

The food almost doesn't matter; he could just drink her in instead and live on love.

(Almost, but not quite. He's really hungry.)

[stbethadettes]

The open-mouthed smile on Beth's face is way beyond suitably impressed.

It's kind of a reflex to sniff a flower when you're given one, and she lifts it to her nose to smell it even though she can catch a hint of it on the air already.

It's not quite like any flower she's ever smelled before, and it probably shouldn't be. Chances are it's from Venus or Mars.

Spike's tricks are even better when they're unexpected.

She gives him this sort of sly, affectionate glance. "I thought you were just going out to smoke." Setting the flower down beside her, she tilts her head and smiles and holds her thumb and forefinger slightly apart from each other. "Just a little wine." It's kind of a celebration, after all. "Then I'll stick to the water."

[not_that_spike]

Uncorking the wine, he pours a little into each of the glasses he's brought up; he'll drink as little or as much as she's drinking. "Well, see, I went out to have a smoke, but there was this lady out there on the swing with a baby on her lap, her boy's like... eight and a half months old and the truth is I got distracted by the kid and never did smoke. I decided to get us something decent to eat instead, because we haven't exactly been doing the three square meals a day thing that book recommends. Here."

He hands her the wine; so much for healthy. But hell, like she said, she just wants a little and it's fine. Junior's already sleeping and she just ate, so... he figures they're safe. "She was really nice and her kid was pretty sweet too. She said she'd love to say hey to both my Beths."

Both my Beths. That phrase makes him smile widely, happily; he glances over to the infant sleeping in the swing basket. "All that aside, Slim: happy anniversary." He never thought he'd be around to celebrate an anniversary with anyone, but he's sure as hell glad to be doing it. When he lifts his glass to hers, the crystal sides touch with a musical clink. Watching her mouth form an oval over and around the lip of the glass -- watching her sip the wine like it was some kind of priceless rarity -- is as fascinating as ever.

"I could look at you all damn day, Beth. Here... try this." Reaching over with a pair of chopsticks, he picks up a particularly good-looking circlet of potechi, dips it into shoyu, and holds it up for her. "I'm not trying to seduce you, I swear it. I mean, I'd like to, but seeing as how you just had a baby, we should probably wait a little." The book says so. "But I couldn't really plan our anniversary dinner without potechi. The tray looked all wrong."

Even with his intentions -- or lack of intentions -- made perfectly clear, he still bets they won't finish this dish of potechi. At this point, that'd be one hell of a sacrilege.

[stbethadettes]

For the first time ever, she looks at Spike with a very earnest and very genuine appreciation for the fact that he's not actively trying to seduce her.

"You know, a woman's body is made with childbirth in mind and all that and I won't say it's not a pretty fucking amazing thing, but sometimes I felt like I must've been trying to give birth to a stalled Volkswagen."

It's not a particularly romantic thought, but at least she's being honest.

She shrugs one shoulder. "But however long we need to wait will be nothing in comparison to the two years before I got here."

She thinks. It's not a total lack of sex drive she has, not exactly. She can still appreciate a shirtless work-out or a hand on her hip or his breath against the back of her neck. Even if she didn't know sex should be avoided for a while, she'd still feel like it should be. It's not just physical healing. It's that sort of hey, let's just avoid that area of my body for a little while since I just tried to give birth to a Volkswagen, okay? feeling that's probably totally natural but still feels a little awkward to her.

Leaning forward, she kisses the side of his face before she steals that prime piece of potechi right from between his chopsticks and then washes it down with a very small sip of the wine.

The potechi, if possible, is better than ever.

"Who was she? The woman with the kid."

She's seen more than a couple of pregnant chicks around here within the past year.

[not_that_spike]

He's not a hundred percent sure what a Volkswagen is but it sounds big and bulky and he doesn't need to know what it is to get her point anyway; after she takes the potechi, he takes his own sip of wine. He's no wine connoisseur, but it tastes pretty damn good to him.

Things usually taste better to him when he shares them with Beth.

"Uh..." He scratches his chin. "Dora. She said her name was Dora, and her son's Anthony. She has another kid, too, that they adopted. She said they live at the end of the staff wing if we ever want to visit."

That out of the way, he backs up to her earlier and in his opinion more important statement. Setting down the chopsticks, he takes her hand in his. "You know, Beth, I love you. That's no secret. I'll do whatever you want, whenever you want. Whatever makes you feel good, whenever it feels right. All you've got to do is... hell, I can't say it with a straight face." Laughing, he whistles for her.

If he could make it through being separated from her for a month and then through another month till his ribs healed, he can wait for however long she needs. She wasn't the only one who didn't exactly have a full romantic schedule in the couple of years before they arrived here.

He knows how to wait.

But not for food; he hands her a knife and fork and makes a makeshift tabletop out of the tray so the wine glasses don't fall over on the bed. They might as well take advantage of the opportunity while Junior's sleeping, seeing as how today she's been up and hungry every couple or three hours.

For once, he's damn glad to be an opportunist.

[stbethadettes]

Taking the offered utensils, she looks a little quizzical before she starts digging in. (She's really worked up a hell of an appetite considering she hasn't gotten around much today.)

Baby named Anthony, lives in the staff wing, has adopted kid...

"Dora Tonks or something like that?"

Maybe Anthony's just a popular baby name here at the end of the universe.

"I met her once, about seven months ago." She finally kind of attacks her steak with the fork and knife. "She's really nice."

And the little boy was adorable. There was just something about seeing a new mother with her tiny baby that sort of drove her to distraction at the time, and at just over two months pregnant herself, talking to someone who obviously knew the feeling felt pretty fucking confessional.

[not_that_spike]

"Yeah, that's her name." The lobster (as always) is really good, and the steak is every bit as good as it smells too. Hard work, he thinks, taking care of a baby. Not that they do much except eat and sleep and give out these little barely audible cries, and get the tiniest damn diapers changed, get their little asses wiped, shit like that. In fact, the busiest they've been with her aside from that (not like he can actually feed her; he can just sit there and appreciate the hell out of Breast Number One and Breast Number Two) was taking her in the shower with them.

She kind of liked it, he thinks. At least she didn't cry, and it was a great way to get her cleaned off, get her used to the gentle warm droplets, get her feeling safe in the water. He resisted the temptation to tell her that water is her friend, that it can take any shape or form, that it can crash down or embrace her with equal skill. No, that lesson will come later.

"Tonks. I knew it was kind of an odd last name. She was really nice. I've seen her around... oh, shit, for as long as I can remember but I never talked with her before. Kind of funny. I never used to even look twice at kids, especially not babies. Now I kind of can't keep my eyes off them." As if his words aren't enough, his glance strays to Junior, sleeping peacefully in her basket. He gives out an amused half-laugh and shakes his head. "How's it possible to love such a tiny little thing so damn fiercely?"

It sure as hell caught him off guard.

[stbethadettes]

She's never expected him to pat her on the back any day now and say he helped her get this far but now he's got to get back to happy baby-free bachelorhood, but it's been a relief to see him kind of rise to the challenge these past few days, to see how little Beth didn't really have to do anything but sleep in Spike's arms before she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Her eyes follow Spike's over to the baby in the basket. "She sort of demands it."

It's not exactly an answer, or at least not a good one. But it's the truth.

"You're good with her." She smiles just for him, and she's not just saying it to make him feel good.

Well, okay, she is saying it to make him feel good, but she's not lying to make him feel good. Maybe there shouldn't be a gentle bone in his body, but there is. It's not that he's taken to it easily. She doesn't think either one of them is what you'd call a natural at this sort of thing, but they do what does come naturally. And he's surprisingly good with a newborn. Or at least with her newborn. Just like she thought he would be.

"You know," she adds teasingly, twirling her fork between her fingers, "for a bounty hunter."

[not_that_spike]

"Yeah." Grinning, he takes another sip of the New France Pinot; it goes well with everything.

Mostly, it goes well with Beth and with this anniversary and with his mood which -- sleep-deprived though it is -- is pretty damn good. "For a bounty hunter."

It isn't like he was going to press the baby's fingers to the trigger of a gun the first day or anything like that. Hell, no: he might be a lot of things, but he's not that self-indulgent. In fact, he has all the shit that isn't Junior-safe way on the top shelf of the closet where even Beth can only reach it if she stands on the tips of her toes. It'll be a while before baby Beth can get up there.

Years. Five, six, seven. Even if she brings a chair over, she won't be able to reach it... but he can if they need it. It's his ammo and the smokes and Beth's gun and ammo, his own throwing knife as well as the one Vicious loaned him last time he was on Mars. Vicious won't be needing that one back. It's a pair of nunchakus he picked up somewhere along the line out there, maybe the time he found Ein, maybe not. It's the holster for his gun; it's all his work shit, for lack of a better way of qualifying it.

Wearing no gun used to make him feel completely fucking naked. It doesn't any more, or at least it doesn't in here. He remembers the way Beth used to eye his gun on the table every night at first when they undressed, or got ready to undress, and how it took a long time for that to become an ordinary thing to her.

He remembers the absolute delight on her face parasailing in Galileo City, and the pride and accomplishment when she helped him nail that Baranza guy.

A hell of a lot's happened in two years. But there's been one constant: he loves her.

"For a bounty hunter, there's a few things I'm good with." Stealing her hand away, he brushes a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank fuck I was smart enough to fall for you."

[stbethadettes]

It's only been a few days since Hero left (and she must've been able to leave since she never came back up to say she couldn't get the door open), and the whole fucking concept of leaving is still raw enough that her smile seems to waver a little for a second.

If they were smart, they probably wouldn't have fallen for each other.

But it's not fair to think that way, not to mention not realistic because she certainly couldn't have stopped herself, and she can't entertain the thought for more than a moment.

"I always thought you were a smart guy." She squeezes his fingers, smiling just as genuinely as before. "Sometimes even a cunning bastard."

[not_that_spike]

"Sometimes cunning. Always a bastard, though." His smile is little, but it's there: it's for her. And he knows that every now and then -- more lately, since the whole shit that happened this summer with the door downstairs in the bar -- she gets these little flashes of seriousness playing across her face. They never last long but he figures she's entitled and it's not that he isn't curious about what she's thinking: he always wants to know. But shit, everyone has a right to private thoughts and he's never been big on prying. It took him three years of partnership to even ask Jet how he lost his arm.

He's still not convinced he won't wake up some morning and find himself alone, but that's his past experience; it's happened to him before. He hopes like hell it doesn't ever happen again. At least it won't on this second anniversary of meeting each other. A downward glance at the strawberries shows beads of condensation on the chocolate; that means when they bite into them, the chocolate's likely to hold together more than flake off, and though he might not be a red wine connoisseur, he knows his chocolate strawberries. Picking out the best and ripest one, he holds it up to Beth like an offering, his hand cupped beneath it.

It might be true that he's not trying to seduce her, but he's sure as hell undressing her with his eyes.

[stbethadettes]

She almost smirks.

Once she's got a mouthful of chocolate-covered strawberry, she just leans back and eats it in tired contentment, perfectly happy to let Spike have the remaining bite or take it in a minute herself.

It's one of those times where she really is easy to please.

When she leans forward again it's to fill her glass with some of that sparkling water, eyes wandering momentarily to the baby, who's hands are still balled into tiny fists up by her chubby-cheeked face.

"I figure we've got another hour, maybe two. You want to dig out those games Shipwreck gave you a while back?"

It's still just a little too early to want to try to go to bed, even with how often one of both of them has to get up in the night, and that's something they can even do from the comfort of the bed.

She grins. "If I can't seduce you I might as well kick your ass."

[not_that_spike]

Hell, she can seduce him any damn time she wants and she knows it. But that shit-eating grin on her face is nothing but a challenge and she knows how he feels about that.

Still, before he does anything else, he works the rest of that strawberry between her lips, brushing off a mix of melted chocolate and strawberry juice with his thumb. First things have to come first. Then, he pours that sparkling water for her, pops a strawberry into his own mouth, licks his thumb, and moves over to the closet to dig out Bad Dudes vs. Dragonninjas. He figures he might have a slight advantage here, having actually been a bad dude at some point... but he's not sure.

In fact, he doesn't even know if it's a 2-player game or not, but they can still take turns; he hooks up the old NES to the back of the TV ("see? I can do this, Slim") and turns it on.

He can barely hide his laughter. "Yo, Slim. You a bad enough dude to rescue the President?" Hopefully, none of this will wake up Beth Junior but if it does... shit, he'll just give her gaming pointers.

[stbethadettes]

She doesn't even try to stifle a laugh, but as soon as she starts, she does make the effort not to laugh too loudly.

"Are you kidding? I'm so much more than bad enough."

After setting her glass of water on the bedside table and putting her plate and then his on the tray and setting it out of the way, she tugs one of the controllers into her lap.

She doesn't think she'd gotten to see this one before now, and they're probably lucky there's a two-player mode. When she realizes it's a cooperative game, though, she gives him a look that's all mock seriousness. "I guess I'm also a bad enough dude to settle for helping you kick ass."

She's okay with that.

[not_that_spike]

Things have been so damn intense lately; it's good to be laughing and just plain fucking around like this and whether or not Beth Junior sleeps through it doesn't matter: one of his favorite things about Beth is that they can do this kind of thing together. Just for fun. No pressure, none of this we could be reading up on infant intelligence stimulation instead of playing video games crap.

Hell, they both deserve it. And this being a cooperative game... shit, that's even better than playing against Beth. The only time they played against each other, actually, was on the Bebop. Poker game with Jet, and she won. He hardly even had to cheat to make that happen... just a couple hands.

Faye's not the only one who knows her way around a deck of cards. But the game's going, the volume on just loud enough for them to hear the lousy sound effects, the crappy music that once was state-of-the-art. As the story unfolds -- he hasn't played this one before -- he almost laughs out loud when he finds out it was the evil Dragon clan who kidnapped the president ("art imitates life, huh, Slim?") but pauses to ask if she wants to be Blade or Striker. Probably doesn't really matter; they're both in black tank tops and ripped jeans and he guesses that's what makes them Bad Dudes. Still, if Beth has a preference, he's all for it.

[stbethadettes]

"I'll be Blade."

Beth shrugs a little, still grinning, and doesn't think it'll particularly make a difference. They look too much alike on the selection screen anyway, so she figures they sure as hell better have different colors on once they start playing.

She almost asks if it came with a manual, but she glances at Spike and doesn't see him looking around for any kind of instructions and figures what the hell. They'll both figure it out.

They might even have gotten the hang of it by the time the baby wakes up.

But once characters are picked and the game starts, all thoughts of getting the hang of it are pretty much out the window. It's not hard at all to pick up the basics, and to her unabashed delight, she's not half bad at being a bad dude in a bad 80's NES game.

[not_that_spike]

Beth was right: she can kick ass, and he wonders if she played games like this a lot or at all back before the plague wiped out her planet. Not that it matters: she either did, or she's a hell of a quick study now. The game's not that hard: you can pick shit up, do a variety of kicks that look... fucking pathetic on the little screen. There's also a couple of jumps and punches, the best of which has to be the Flaming Punch, without question.

"I'd like one of those in real life... but not if it takes that long to charge up." He takes his eyes off the DragonNinja just long enough to glance at Beth, just long enough to see she's enjoying the hell out of this. An unspoken thank you goes out to Shipwreck, wherever the fuck he is, for the Christmas present a couple years ago. For all intents and purposes, he'd just about forgotten he had them.

Yeah, a lot of shit's happened in the past couple years. In her swing, Beth Junior stirs and makes a sleepy yawn, but doesn't quite wake up yet.

And that's a good thing: Striker wraps his nunchuks around Little Blue Ninja's shadowy form and takes him down for 300 points.

Go Striker.

Aside from beating the crap out of the ninjas -- which both Blade and Striker are pretty damn good at -- there's not a whole lot of point to the game, but each level has a boss and the first one's pretty easy to get past. The second one's some short little ninja with spiky nails and shit, Striker goes down for the count.

Not enough lives: he's not going to read any damn symbolism into that at all. Setting down the controller, he watches intently as Beth plays on. "Go, Bad Dude. You really are kicking ass."

He knew she could.

[stbethadettes]

"Fuck. I should've let you get that Cola."

Managing to finish off the spiky-nail ninja even after Spike's out ("It's about goddamn time"), she continues to the sewer for the next level.

And the sewer sure is tougher without a second player helping out, and she's not incredibly surprised when things start looking really bad when Blade gets to a series of platforms where he's pretty much swarmed by ninjas.

Too many ninjas, not enough of those life-restoring soda cans.

Once Blade gets overwhelmed and their game's over, she sets her controller down, glances over at the sleeping baby again, and then moves closer to take up some of Spike's personal space and tilt her face up to his for a kiss.

"Love you."

Even if neither one of them is a bad enough dude to rescue the President.

[not_that_spike]

Now that makes him all kinds of smug, and he thinks it's too bad he promised he wasn't going to try to seduce her. Either way, though, he adores her right to left and left to right. All habit, he reaches for her hand and wraps it around his tie which -- believe it or not -- he's too damn stubborn to sacrifice in the name of Beth Junior. So far she hasn't gummed it up or anything, but hell, she isn't even a week old. Maybe he'll change his tune when she gets beyond the murmuring, sleeping, and wiggling stage.

And just because he's not seducing Beth, that doesn't mean he can't dip down for a second kiss and then a third. It's that whole things-are-better-in-threes theory of his. It's not until the third kiss that baby Beth wakes up in earnest, fussing, the tiniest of cries escaping her barely-formed lungs.

Good thing he wasn't trying to seduce her. Instead, that little cry makes him smile in an oddly contented way; he tucks Beth's hair back behind her ear. "Looks like someone's hungry. You relax; I'll bring her over." It's kind of the least he can do; Beth's doing all the feeding, after all.

Turning off that swing, he cradles her daughter -- their daughter -- in those bounty hunter arms of his. "Hey, you little Bad Dude. Let's fly you on over to the most beautiful woman in the universe. Aren't we the two luckiest people here?" She's not old enough to argue; it only takes a moment to get baby Beth to her mom.

"Love you both."

Click.

(Perfect.)