not_that_spike | (no subject)

She's too little for flying lessons, but that doesn't mean he can't pretend they're flying. Hell, she's only a week old; she can't sit up by herself or any of that shit. Instead, he's got her tucked into the crook of his left arm and with his right, he's mock-flying the Swordfish.

"See, Junior, here's how it works. You turn the key and the ship hums into action. Then you check the fuel gauge, make sure the weapons systems are a go, and turn to the universe's most beautiful pilot, who just happens to be sitting right next to you." He turns to his right and plants a kiss on Beth's lips. "Then, you radio in -- radio's up here -- and ask Mom, I mean, Jet, to open the hatch and cut the gravitational system so you can fly her out into deep space." With that, he points up to the ceiling where the stars are faintly visible, even though it's light inside the room.

"And that's all there is to it."

Not really, but that's all there is to this little demonstration, anyhow. "Now, in the next lesson I'll teach you how to fuel up your spaceship. But in the meantime, we've got this." Behind them on the bed, the plush spacecraft they got on Europa sits waiting its turn patiently; he holds it up to Beth Junior who's still too young to play with it, but that doesn't stop him. "Beth, Swordfish. Swordfish, Beth Junior." He watches her, entranced, and then a huge smile breaks over his face. Turning to Beth, his eyes light up. "Hey. I think she smiled at me."

The mere concept pretty much melts his heart.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kisses, sometimes, are a way to stop talking when words don't cut it. And sometimes they're an exploration, a fascination. Sometimes they're a salve or a balm. Sometimes they're punctuation marks.

Right now, the kiss she gives him is all those things at once: all of them. The timing on it is so good, in fact, that when she's done talking he dips back in for one more, thinking one from you, one from me. That's good. That's fair.

He won't tell her she shouldn't feel guilty; that'll only make her feel worse and damn if that's not the last thing he wants her to feel. Time is precious; time with Beth is doubly so.

Pulling back, he reaches forward, running his fingertip down her nose, letting it settle on her lips. He loves her lips, always has. He likes the way they feel and the way they look and the way they taste -- especially the way they taste -- but right now, right this minute, they're kind of this direct path to her heart. And right now, right this minute, he's kind of in love not just with her but with everything he's heard her say since he shut up enough to give her a chance to talk.

Finally, he moves his finger away from her lips and takes her hands in his. "Well, fuck, Slim." When he looks back up to her face, he gives her one of those small private smiles she's told him she loves. "I adore the hell out of you." To say thanks for listening, thanks for letting me get it all out of my system seems a little bit redundant; she knows how appreciated she is.

And holding hands is all well and good, but it's not enough; he wraps his arms around her and pulls her just that much closer to him and kisses her again, because she's there and because he can and because, right now, right this minute, he's all talked out except for one thing.

"And yeah... I'm okay. I'm okay, and I love you."

She gives him a look that's pure affection, her arms still wrapped around his neck.

"Glad we're on the same page, bounty hunter."

Her body just kind of leans against his, rests against him, and it sure is a hell of a lot easier to do that without the big pregnant belly.

"Now what do you say we have something to eat?" Her smile's all for him, every bit of it. She didn't think she was feeling tense before, but she honestly feels a little better now than before. "I'll even go down and get it for us myself this time."

She doesn't mind. In fact, she wants to. Usually Spike's done it, and really, even doing something as simple as that'll make her feel good.

There's this one moment of don't you dare go through any doors without me, but... he can't live that way. He can't. If he does, then fear and uncertainty win and that's one battle he's not giving in to, no matter what.

"Yeah, that sounds good. In just a minute." There's something he has to do first, and it mostly involves just holding her for a little while longer. It's not exactly like some weight got lifted or that they resolved anything, but sometimes, just talking is enough of a thing and sometimes, just holding her is enough of a thing. This time he reaches up and tucks the hair back behind her ears on both sides and rests the palms of his hands -- the hands that know how to fight and how to shoot a gun and how to kill equally as well as they know how to comfort and hold a baby -- against her cheeks. His thumbs trace the edges of her scar and it's beautiful, she's beautiful, she's everything in this moment.

And then his eyes soften and he gives her a genuine smile.

"Yeah." His lips brush across hers so very lightly. "Yeah, that's a great idea. I'm starving. I'll stay here with the tiny sleeping princess, make sure no big bad wolves try to climb in the window."

The only thing he can't do for Beth Junior is feed her, but if he really is her favorite thing since naptime, he'll find a way to distract her if that's what needs doing.

Finally, he pulls away just enough. "Thanks."

And then because he's a guy, his hands trail down her body to settle on her chest. "And I still think listing them separately wasn't cheating."

She just barely doesn't laugh, but all the amusement's there in her eyes and in her voice and in her grin anyway.

"You can't be serious. It was definitely cheating."

She's sure this is one thing they'll never agree on. But her hands cover his, and if she really minds that he cheated like that, you can hardly tell it.

He laughs. He laughs out loud; everything's right with the universe. It's all good. Turning her palms up, he kisses both of them, then folds her fingers over onto the kisses to seal them in.

"Love you, Slim. We'll be waiting for you when you get back." Like a solitary hawk surveying his chosen field, he watches as she moves about the room: putting on shoes, checking on Beth Junior, pressing a kiss to her sleeping forehead.

(Click.)

When she walks through the door, the shape of her body and the way she moves reminds him of poetry.