Now there's an idea: it always feels so damn right when she does things like that and this... really is a hell of a nice moment. Beth in his arms, Beth Junior gurgling and cooing.
It isn't often that Beth comes up with a statement like that: they're both kind of reserved, but it's even more prevalent in her behavior than his. He's guarded but she's a damn fortress sometimes, especially when it comes to expressing affection. There's no fingers being pointed or anything: hell, he loves her so much. She's perfect just the way she is and if she was any different he might not love her quite so much or in quite the same way. The whole train of thought, though, brings him back around to being pleasantly surprised by her words.
"Happy with you, ma'am. We humble bounty hunters have to maintain this veneer, you know? Calm, cool, collected. All that secret-agent shit. Don't tell anyone I'm just some proud romantic at heart. You know: tough guy club, strict membership requirements, license to be cool: don't want to lose those things." His laugh is low and quiet and it makes the baby look over at them and give another delighted, toothless grin.
His heart melts: things can't get a fuck of a lot better. Not even if by some miracle or other they end up in that house on Venus. He'll never admit it to anyone but Beth, but he still has that real estate magazine. It's old and out of date and none of those houses are even for sale any more, most likely, but when she was gone and sometimes still in the middle of the night when Junior's got a new diaper and she and Beth are back to sleep, he takes it out and looks at it. It's more symbolic than anything -- of course it is -- but it's a damn clear representation of a dream. Whether or not it ever comes true, it's still a dream worth holding onto.
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It isn't often that Beth comes up with a statement like that: they're both kind of reserved, but it's even more prevalent in her behavior than his. He's guarded but she's a damn fortress sometimes, especially when it comes to expressing affection. There's no fingers being pointed or anything: hell, he loves her so much. She's perfect just the way she is and if she was any different he might not love her quite so much or in quite the same way. The whole train of thought, though, brings him back around to being pleasantly surprised by her words.
"Happy with you, ma'am. We humble bounty hunters have to maintain this veneer, you know? Calm, cool, collected. All that secret-agent shit. Don't tell anyone I'm just some proud romantic at heart. You know: tough guy club, strict membership requirements, license to be cool: don't want to lose those things." His laugh is low and quiet and it makes the baby look over at them and give another delighted, toothless grin.
His heart melts: things can't get a fuck of a lot better. Not even if by some miracle or other they end up in that house on Venus. He'll never admit it to anyone but Beth, but he still has that real estate magazine. It's old and out of date and none of those houses are even for sale any more, most likely, but when she was gone and sometimes still in the middle of the night when Junior's got a new diaper and she and Beth are back to sleep, he takes it out and looks at it. It's more symbolic than anything -- of course it is -- but it's a damn clear representation of a dream. Whether or not it ever comes true, it's still a dream worth holding onto.
His hand finds its home on her hip.
Perfect fucking fit.
Perfect.