not_that_spike | (no subject)

(no subject)

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."

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"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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

"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.

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.)

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