(no subject)

[not_that_spike]

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.

Comments

[not_that_spike]

"Here you go, Slim. One baby-sized pilot delivered."

The taste of her lips lingers, but there's no regret. None at all: they'll get their chance to explore one anothers' bodies when the time is right. Now it's time for Junior, and he takes the opportunity to watch -- really watch -- Beth with her daughter. It's pretty damn priceless: there's this almost unexpressed fierceness on her face when she looks down at Junior. It lurks just below the surface and he knows if anyone tries to fuck with either of them, they'll get repent or burn or something just like it really fast.

It can't be any other way. It's what Beth's like; it's what he's like except his weapon of choice is his Jericho, not a can of hair spray.

He could do that too, in a pinch.

Almost automatically, he reaches for pillows for Beth. "I should get you a rocking chair."

If he could go anywhere to shop and have a way to get one back, he sure as hell would.

"Bed or chair?" If she sits on the chair, he can rub her feet while Junior gets fed. If she opts for the bed, he can... rub her feet there, too, or read to her, or whatever she wants.

[stbethadettes]

It's not a bad idea. She knows they'd certainly put one to good use.

"What do you think, Beth? Would you like it if we got a rocking chair?" Ducking her head to kiss Beth Junior's forehead, she smiles to herself. A rocking chair probably isn't a luxury they'd have back home.

"We'll use the chair this time."

Set up with her pillows, she takes a seat, gets the baby comfortably situated, and starts unbuttoning her shirt with one hand.

"You going to read to us this time, too?" For the moment, her eyes are more for Spike than the baby. "We like that."

Yeah. She's spoiled. And in a thousand ways.

[not_that_spike]

"Okay." The nearest book is a collection of poems by Federico Garcia Lorca; he opens the book and reads a few random poems while Junior settles in Beth's arms and starts her dinner. The last poem he reads is one called Madrigal for the City of Santiago and he doesn't know where Santiago is or was, but it's a good poem and he focuses on the words and imagery as much as on Beth and her -- their -- daughter.

Rain falls on Santiago,
my sweet love.
White camellia of the air,
the veiled sun shines.

Rain falls on Santiago
in the dark of night.
Grasses of silver and dream
cover the vacant moon.

Look at the rain in the street,
lament of stone and of glass.
See on the languishing wind
shadow and ash of your ocean.

Shadow and ash of your ocean,
Santiago, far from the sun;
water of ancient morning
trembles in my heart.

When he looks up again, Beth Junior is sleeping and Beth... well, she's watching her, entranced. For a long silent space -- eight heartbeats, nine, ten -- he just watches them. It's strangely satisfying in a way he never expected to be satisfied.

Huh.

His eyes wrinkle into the vaguest hint of smile as he watches his two Beths.

"Let me know if you want me to put her to bed."

[stbethadettes]

She looks up with a half-surprised glance -- that last poem was a good one, and she'd thought he was just picking out another choice poem -- that says she knows she's been caught watching the baby like practically nothing else exists. And that she's not the least bit ashamed about it.

It's her daughter, still so damn new.

The smile she flashes Spike is all thinly veiled appreciation, and her fingers creep up to do a few of her shirt buttons

"I've got her this time. You just sit right there."

She stands slowly and takes little Beth over to her basket, placing her inside and making sure she's cozily tucked in. Then she leans down, tucking her hair back behind her ears, and kisses one baby-soft cheek.

"Now where were we?" Turning back to Spike, she's pretty ready to curl up beside him and... not sleep, but just relax.

Relaxation's been an exciting idea all week, really, and things are just getting started.

[not_that_spike]

Some days, he misses his jacket. It was easy to hide shit in the pockets for times like this, when it's just him and Beth and there's no pressure to do anything or go anywhere. He could pull a cigarette out from behind her ear (except they're not smoking in here), or a little origami creation (except he hasn't had time to make one, not since the baby), or a fortune teller fish (moved into a drawer so Junior doesn't get one in her little fist and then in her little mouth). But he doesn't have his jacket.

Actually, he does, but it's shredded and blood-stained in the closet. He'll have to make do with the power of his smile or some shit like that. "Well, your choice. It's either this--" he holds up the poetry book "--or this." Standing, he reaches for her, tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses her lips.

Softly.

There's an unspoken third thing: he could wrap her hand around his tie and even though it's about his first instinct he doesn't do it. No rushing Beth. When she's ready for that, she'll let him know.

"Or we could just..." He shrugs. Be there. "Whatever you want. Give you a back rub, or dress you in that green dress and take it off you again, or brush your hair or tell you stories about Mars. Watch a movie. Compare scars. Hang out, no agenda. I'm easy."

So long as he gets to be with her, he's happy. There's never been anyone like Beth in his life and, like a rare glass of vintage Titanian Silver, she's addictive as hell. He just can't do without her any more.

[stbethadettes]

All of it sounds pretty good to her.

Except maybe the green dress option. If he's going to take it off her, there's not going to be any driving you know, this is really still not the time for sex feeling when that happens.

She wants to enjoy that together with exactly what it deserves to lead to.

But not yet. It's just been a week.

"You are easy, bounty hunter." Her arm slips into his, and she urges him to sit back down on the bed with her. "I might have to take you up on the back rub offer later."

For now, though, she's just willing to hang out, like he said. She pauses as she props up some pillows, turning toward him, not uncertain but gathering her thoughts. "Are you doing okay?"

Maybe it's kind of a strange question. It's one she's gotten a lot lately, and while it's not like he had the physical demands on him that she had on her, she thinks he deserves to be asked.

Having a newborn around is a huge change, and they tend to suck up a lot of the available attention.

[not_that_spike]

"Huh?"

The question surprises him: no one's asked him that. Not since he fell back into the bar this far from being dead, and he's not quite sure exactly what she's asking. She could be asking if his ribs are okay. She could be asking if he still loves her. She could be asking if he's okay having a baby around. She could be asking a million different things. Turning to face her, he takes her hands in his before glancing up at her, almost shy.

And then he glances to baby Beth, sleeping so soundly it looks like she'll sleep right through the night but he knows that's not going to happen. Her question is a good one and it deserves a little thought before answering.

It's been kind of a hell of a week and they never did see the end of their movie -- not like he cares -- and life's pretty much been turned on its ass but that doesn't bother him. Squeezing her hands, he looks up at her again; he doesn't want her to think his silence means something's wrong.

"Yeah," he says finally. "Tired, but okay."

And then it grabs him. All the shit of the past week just grabs him, right in his gut, right in his throat, right in his eyes and so he closes his eyes and turns away, swallowing hard.

He has no fucking idea what he's doing. He looked and looked, but Beth Junior didn't come with an instruction manual; he has no way of telling if what he's doing is right or wrong, or if she'll ever let him call the baby his daughter, or if she's going to stick around. He has no fucking idea what's going to happen.

Maybe all new parents feel this way.

It really is a few minutes before he can open his eyes again and when he does, he searches Beth's face. Hell, suddenly he's a dad, but suddenly she's a mom; it has to be terrifying as hell for her, too... doesn't it?

For the first time he can remember, hope and fear are so tightly intertwined he can't seem to separate them and that... well, it's a first. He'd much rather be in control, even a little bit.

A small sound escapes his mouth; it's not a laugh and it's not a cry and it's not a sigh. It's something in between all those things and he lets the air in the room just carry it away, carry it up and away. Then he leans forward and cups Beth's face in his hands and kisses her. It's more of a reassurance than a seduction. It's more an I need you right now than an I want you right now.

It sure as hell makes him feel better: he rests his forehead against hers.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Now. "How about you?"

[stbethadettes]

"You're okay?" she echoes.

Well, she doesn't doubt that it's (mostly) true, but she also doesn't doubt that it's a very simplified answer.

"I'm a mother."

The way she says it isn't distasteful, but she almost makes it sound as if she's still surprised by this new development even after nine months of being pregnant and one fucking long night of giving birth.

She's the most important person in the whole universe to this baby. No one has the responsibility she does where little Beth is concerned. Yorick doesn't even know about her. Hero -- though her niece shouldn't be her responsibility anyway -- has her incredibly important delivery to see to before anything else. Spike...

She loves Spike. But no matter how much he'd like to be around, there's no guarantee he'll be able to be around. They're not from the same planet, same time, same solar system.

It's just such a goddamn huge thing, having a baby, and she was convinced for two long years that nothing like this would ever happen. Whether she wanted it or not.

She's not moving her forehead from Spike's.

"One of these days I'll get used to thinking of myself like that."

[not_that_spike]

"I don't know if I ever will."

She's his Beth. She's Slim. She's Marie. She's flight attendant, bounty hunter, pilot, angel, siren, partner in crime, absolute fucking love of his life... and again, he gets this rush of sadness where he's glad as hell she's too close to him to really look into his eyes

(Julia was always talking about you. Your eyes are different colors. I remember her saying that. Said you'd get a strange feeling if you keep looking straight into his eyes.)

which are nothing like perfect and he suddenly knows in his heart that no matter what -- no matter how hard he tries to justify things or rationalize them, no matter what words he uses -- this baby isn't his. Beth has a connection with her he can't have, he won't have, he can't know. The part of him used to being hard and apathetic says that figures; they always leave you. They always leave you in the end, so get ready for that now. Let go, back off: time for those shields to go up because if you don't, you'll get hurt all over again.

That part doesn't have very much faith.

He doesn't really like that part of himself, but it's come in handy time and again. But there's this other part of him that he had buried for a really, really long time. In fact, it didn't even show itself until maybe a year, year and a half ago and that's the part that goes hey, I'm not that big a loser. I'm worth hanging around for. I can do this thing. I can make some kind of a difference. I can help raise this little girl. I can make sure she knows she's both loved and wanted.

The problem is the other part -- the first part -- looks at it real skeptically and says yeah, right.

"On second thought, Beth, no. I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all." Closing his eyes

(I will not fucking cry: bury that shit, pal)

he takes a deep breath, and another, and another. He swallows back the stupid fucking lump in his throat and breathes in again once, twice, three times. "I... need to figure a few things out. I need to know where I stand with you and with Junior. I..."

Fuck.

"when people ask how our baby's doing, I want to be able to say hey, our daughter's doing great. She's beautiful. Look at her. I don't want to have to stand there and look down at the ground and say ask Beth; she's not my kid. I want Junior to know I love her and I'm proud as hell of her and that she belongs."

It doesn't take a biological parent to make a kid feel that way. Hell, Mao was a better father to him than his own dad.

"And that's either a lot to ask, or something I shouldn't even be questioning because the answer's so obvious but I can't see it. I can't see what you want me to do about it, and I'm scared to fucking death to even ask you about it, because what if your answer and mine don't match up?"

Shit.

Too late now to take back the question.

[stbethadettes]

"You need to know where you stand with me and with Junior?"

She can make it to the next part of what he said as soon as she moves past this one. Jabbing his collarbone with her finger, she looks a little more fierce than she means to at first.

"I love the fuck out of you, and maybe I don't say it as often as I should, but I think it should be a pretty well-known fact anyway." That stubbornly wrinkled part of her forehead smoothes out. "And speaking as little Beth's representative--" There's a flicker of a smile for a moment. "--I think it's safe for me to say she probably thinks you're the best thing since naptime."

Now her hand moves to just rest against his chest.

"I'm sorry it's an awkward situation, but I kind of see hey, our daughter's doing great as black and ask Beth; she's not my kid as white when a case like that really calls for something nice and gray."

She meets his eyes, and there's this obstinate refusal to look away. "What I'd like, eventually, is to be as honest as possible with her about Yorick and about you. I'm not forcing her to call anyone daddy. If we still get to be here when she's old enough to put thoughts into words and she wants to call you that, I'll be glad and so goddamn proud and think my daughter's the smartest little chick in the universe."

And it is an awkward situation, and not just for him. She's been pregnant since Yorick, but she managed to get nearly two years of falling for Spike in before the baby came around.

"I'm fucking thrilled that you want her to know you love her and are proud of her and that she belongs, and maybe it's some sort of nesting instinct but you have no idea how seductive all of this is, especially now, this whole cozy little you-and-me-and-baby-makes-three deal. I want you with us. I get this warm content feeling in the pit of my stomach just watching you with her."

[not_that_spike]

"I..."

He's pretty sure what she's saying is all good, but still, he stops and feels his jaw tighten and his eyes threaten to fill again; he closes them.

And rests his hand over hers on his chest.

And breathes.

It's that if we still get to be here when she's old enough to put thoughts into words thing that gives him pause; it preys on every single damn fear he's got.

His hand tightens over hers.

"I want to tell you something, Beth." His other hand wraps around the back of her neck; he leans forward to kiss her cheek. "More than one thing. First, I don't want to lie to little Beth. Not about me, not about you, not about Yorick, not about circumstances. I don't want to pretend to be what I'm not." Hell, she was adopted; she knows it doesn't matter if the guy who raised her was biologically related. He's still her father... or was before the plague but that's a whole different thing and they don't have to talk about it now. "Second, I love the hell out of you. That should have been first. I love you so damn much that I don't know what to do with it sometimes. When you were gone, I could hardly stand it. The same stubborn pain in the ass side of me that you saw a minute ago kept telling me you weren't coming back. And it wasn't because I didn't have faith in you, Slim; I did and I do. It's just that I'm still trying to learn a few new tricks. I've... really never had what you could call a healthy relationship with a woman, or even a good one. The only other woman I ever loved anywhere near as much as I love you promised she'd join me and instead, she ran away. That's what I have to go on, and I know you're not Julia and I know this is different. But when you disappeared this summer, I figured that was it. I figured history was repeating itself. I figured... well, shit, must just be my fate. I might have thought I could have it different, but if I cheated death to get here the first time, maybe that was the payback for it."

He shakes his head slowly. "And you were gone, and Junior was gone, and I was on Mars, and it was all I could do to just keep walking, just keep going. To get back here -- to get back to you -- that was all I cared about. It kind of sucked to have to live through all that shit again but I kept telling myself it was worth it just to see you one more time. Just one more time, Beth."

Fuck.

"I'm no good at self-disclosure. Before you, I never bothered. Not out of some stupid self-pity thinking oh, no one understands me, why should I explain myself but more out of simple self-preservation. The less people know, the less they can hurt you, right?"

He doesn't talk like this often, but when he does, he wants to get all his thoughts out. He doesn't want to have to stop short, and so he continues. "I know you didn't want to leave. I know that. Somewhere in this thick skull of mine, that's posted on the main bulletin board. But there's this other piece of me that goes well, Julia chose to leave and I know the situations are completely different. I know you're not her -- I know it -- that fucking impudent son of a bitch part of me likes to keep me guessing. You think I don't give a damn when I say shit like whatever happens happens? That's all self-protection, Beth. I can't even start to put into words how much I love you and how much I need you. I want that fantasy house on Venus with you and Junior. Shit, Slim, I'm no starry-eyed idealist; I know that's a hell of a long shot. But fuck yeah, I want it... and I've never wanted that with anyone else."

Shit.

His eyes fill, stinging; he squeezes them shut tight, breathing her in.

"I love you. I love her. You two are the most amazing things ever to happen to me."

[stbethadettes]

The fears that Spike has may not be totally rational, but with all she knows about his past, they're not hard to understand.

"One of my biggest fears is to have to leave here without a choice in the matter, just like last time. And now that Hero's gone, it's an even bigger worry. I'd be all alone with the baby, in an unfamiliar place and as unprepared as last time."

Her two biggest fears are for something bad to happen to the baby or to Spike, and as far as she's concerned, that's definitely worth counting as something bad happening to the baby. It's not herself she's worried about; she learned how to live on her own and make a church a home. It's all for the baby. She wouldn't be able to leave Beth alone, and she wouldn't be able to hide her well.

"I have no idea what Julia was like and I can't be very reassuring about that, but for one thing, I can promise you I love you."

She can't help it if it feels worth repeating right now, worth driving home, and her arms curl around his neck.

"And I can promise that I'll never just leave without a word if I have any fucking choice at all in the matter."

It's not exactly reassuring, she guesses, but she has to be honest with him at this point. "I can't say I don't feel guilty about being here, like there's no ugly little obligation I feel about the situation at home. That there's never any tiny voice nagging in the back of my mind, saying that I've got lives on my conscience and shouldn't I want to try to help if I can?" She barely shrugs. "Like if I have to go back eventually I better not sit around and let other people do all the work to try to save mankind, even if I'm just the chick the last man happened to get pregnant."

There's a small shake of her head. "And I'm happy with you, and I don't want to do anything that puts that in jeopardy. Sometimes, since I've gotten back, I feel like just being here is uncertain enough as it is."

Kind of like right after what happened with Joe, but with triple the effectiveness since it happened to her personally.

Even though she made it back.

"So let's take advantage of what we've got here and not worry about titles or anything, okay?" She plants a kiss to his jaw, then his lips. "I'm Beth and you're Spike and she's little Beth, and we're all disgustingly intoxicated with each other and wouldn't have it any other goddamn way."

[not_that_spike]

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."

[stbethadettes]

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.

[not_that_spike]

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."

[stbethadettes]

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.

[not_that_spike]

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.