not_that_spike | (no subject)

There's moments like this where things are just so damn priceless, so precious: he and Beth are sitting in bed together, their backs propped up by an ocean of pillows. His knees are up and Beth Junior's resting against his legs. He's got both of the baby's hands in his or, really, she's got both his index fingers in her little fists, waving back and forth. Every little thing she does is kind of amazing. It's almost imossible to think of her being any older than she is right this moment, but he knows it'll seem like only moments have flown by once she's crawling or talking or walking, and then memories of days like this will become fuzzy and far away.

That's just kind of the way it goes. He leans over to press a kiss to the side of Beth's face; little Beth's grip on his fingers doesn't loosen even a fraction. Turning his attention back to Junior, his eyes soften and he gives her a little grin.

"Hey, Junior. Guess what? I love your mom." Leaning into Beth, his smile widens. Beth and Beth: he's got one hell of a good deal all the way around.

Threaded | Flat

It's kind of adorable, the way little Beth's eyes are wide and fixed on Spike's mouth as it moves like she's never seen anything like it and it's so damn great that she can't possibly look away.

Beth can never blame her.

She leans her chin on Spike's upper arm.

"Just don't tell anyone, sweetheart. He'll get kicked out of the official tough guy club."

She watches the baby's eyes move toward her own mouth at that, her little head sort of wobbling a little, but then they turn back to Spike and she breaks out into a big beautiful beaming all-gums grin.

And over Spike's arm, Beth just stares at her as if dumbfounded for a split second before she grins, too.