(no subject)

[not_that_spike]

They're all keyed -- or whatever the hell it's called -- to the painting and now there's no point in waiting: time to pack. He still can't believe it; things like this don't happen for him. Maybe that shit this summer was the last in a lifetime's run of bad luck and now things are taking a turn for the better. Whatever it is, he's not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Instead he's got boxes from Bar so they can pack up their things and get moving, and that's what they're in the middle of doing. It's kind of amazing how much crap Beth Junior has already. More than he does; it's kind of amusing.

"I can't believe we haven't even seen the place yet. We should go take a look." He hasn't had a place of his own since... since he was with Julia, still inside the Syndicate: a whole lifetime ago. A whole couple lifetimes ago. All the diapers go into a box; he's not bothering labeling anything because really, what they have is so minimal it won't take long to unpack. A whole lot of unknown lies ahead, but that doesn't frighten him. In fact, it makes things interesting. They'll still have the bar and the lake and the greenhouses and all that shit, but in private -- where it matters -- they'll have more space.

Last year he promised Beth Christmas on Venus. This year, it's Christmas in a new place. The past year's changed his life in so damn many ways, he can't even begin to count them. He's richer by far where it counts -- in his heart and soul -- and though he's never been one to rest on his accomplishments, he thinks this year's seen so much change. Whether or not it was intended, it is what it is and now he just can't imagine life without Beth Junior.

And he didn't think he had room in his heart to love anyone besides Beth. Looks like he was wrong about that one.

Comments

[stbethadettes]

Her stuff didn't take that long to pack up, and neither did his. It's all the baby supplies that really add up.

"We'll be seeing it soon enough anyway."

It's not that she's not curious. She is. But she lived in an abandoned church for two years, then in this (Spike's) room above the bar for two more. It goes without saying that they're going to have more space: it's that whole rooms versus room thing.

This is an unknown she's not afraid of jumping into blindly, and whatever their rooms look like, she's pretty sure she can be content with them.

Swiping the last few things in the baby drawer, she tucks them into the box in front of her and stops to steal a glance at the baby in her basket before turning to give Spike a smile.

"We could go see it now, if you want."

[not_that_spike]

The heaviest box is the one with the books in it, but that's always the case; standing, he toes it aside so there's a clear and unobstructed path to the door. With the swing thing disassembled and packed up, this room looks... well, like any hotel room: nondescript, pleasant enough shades of blue and white. It's hard to believe it's been home for more than two years, but he has no regrets about moving on. He's always said as long as he was with Beth (and now Beth Junior), anyplace is fine with him and he means it.

"Leave all this shit here, go take a look?" The start of a smile curves his lips up at the corners so very slightly you'd think it was unnatural for him, that it might make him break or something. "Sounds good to me." Scooping up both baby and blanket from the basket, he reaches for Beth's hand. His gun's tucked safely into its holster inside his jacket, just like every time they go somewhere new: a guy can never keep his family too safe. He's not so sure why he actually trusts Tom Riddle. After all, they've only met a couple times.

But he does. A lot of that is because Snow trusted the House of Arch to keep her safe and hell, she was way more paranoid about it all than he's ever been or ever will be. If it was good enough for the former head of security, it has to be okay.

"Come with me, ma'am. We can compare and contrast it to the houses on Venus. See which one wins the prize." He's joking... mostly. Venus is kind of that lofty ideal, the brass ring, and it's become a lot more symbolic since they were last there. "Maybe the bed in the new place will be just as soft as that one in New France."

A guy can always hope.

[stbethadettes]

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

Getting up off her knees and closing the drawer she just emptied, Beth steps forward to dip down and kiss Junior's forehead before giving Spike a kiss of his own.

"We'll give ourselves the grand tour and then move all these boxes later."

What she hadn't quite decided before is whether she wants to give up her little-used room. For all intents and purposes, she's been living with Spike, but she always had that room to fall back on. She and Spike have never owed each other more than they wanted to give.

But now things are a little different.

They've joked about some cozy little house on Venus for about a year now, and while she doesn't know exactly what their rooms are going to be like, moving into the House of Arch together is probably the closest they're able to get to that idle fantasy.

Spike hasn't asked her once about room 31 or her plans for it, and for all she knows, he's just assuming she'll give it up.

But nothing she can do right now says if things were different, I would choose you more than finally giving the room up. And as soon as they settle down in their rooms, she thinks she'll do just that.

She opens the door and holds it for Spike. His hands are full with the baby, after all.

[not_that_spike]

Beth's kiss still fresh on his lips, he can't help but smile: this is a hell of an adventure. A domestic one, but an adventure nonetheless and the first one they've really had with the three of them. In his mind's eye he's always had this picture of the three of them crammed into the Swordfish going somewhere together, impractical as that is: hell, the ship's barely big enough for two. But this is a journey of a different kind, and it's one one he never ever thought he'd be making. It's a family thing and to say he's never considered himself family material is a hell of an understatement.

But damn if he isn't family material after all: he's doing for Beth and for Junior in a way his own dad didn't ever do for him and his mom, and even though it's weird as hell, it feels really good. It's still a little alien to him at times, but nothing is more important to him than their well-being and happiness, so whatever he has to do, he'll do it. He's said he'd die for them and he would, even though he'd rather not. But he'd do it to defend them without even thinking and that, to his bounty-hunter self, is the ultimate measure of commitment.

It's just the way he is.

Together they make their way down the stairs and through the bar to the portrait of the dogs playing poker. For a long minute he just stands in front of it looking, but no time like the present: linking arms with Beth, he gestures for her to touch the portrait, just like they'd seen Snow do in the past. There's this feeling that he can only equate to passing into hyperspace with a huge damn hangover, and then, suddenly, they're in another room.

It's the House of Arch and the main room there, and the walls are full of portraits and for a minute he's confused: they have to get to their rooms through one of these portraits. Tom said it was a church -- fitting enough -- and there it is. Right there on the wall with the rest of the portraits in this gallery: a church on top of a rugged crag with a big rose window and a cross, and the night sky above, a few stars starting to peek out. If it's not theirs, they'll know it soon enough.

This time he wants them to both do this thing together: it's going to be their first glimpse of their new rooms; Junior firmly in his arm, he raises Beth's hand in his and together, they touch the portrait of that church and again there's that weird hungover hyperspace feeling and...

(blink blink blink)

"Shit, Slim. Shit." A slow smile breaks out over his face; he doesn't let go of Beth's hand.

"Shit." Like it hasn't been said enough, and in a good way. It's really just his way of saying I can't fucking believe our good luck.

[stbethadettes]

With wide eyes, she just looks at the room around them.

It's the bay window that draws her attention first, but she doesn't even have a chance to walk over before she's distracted by the curtains and the couch and the sleek wooden coffee table and the carpet and...

"Fuck."

She could practically launch herself at Spike and if he didn't have the baby in his arms she'd probably just do it, but as it is, she settles for walking back over to him and letting her arms snake around him for a moment.

"It's a living room," she tells him, completely unnecessarily but with a certain shameless amount of glee. "We've got a goddamn couch."

She missed couches when she was living in St. Bernadette's. Hell, she missed a lot when she was living in St. Bernadette's, really, and they were all things so easy to take for granted.

But there's an archway that leads to an adjoining room, and she's barely let her arms settle around him before she lets go so she can check it out, giving his sleeve a tug to urge him to follow.

[not_that_spike]

He barely has a chance to take in the light flooding through the three tall curtained windows -- he can't remember ever seeing sunlight looking like that -- and doesn't get to see exactly what's outside the windows before Beth announces that it's a living room and they've got a couch: he likes that. In fact, on the Bebop, he did most of his sleeping and living on the couch in the ship's living room. The lamps on end tables and the bookcase across the room and the pictures on the walls barely register for him before Beth, who seems almost giddy, leads him through an arch into a...

...kitchen. He's had a few apartments in his time beyond the ones in his parents' homes, but all his apartments have been efficiencies: everything all bundled into one tidy (or not-so-tidy) space. Kitchens have been a cramped proposition at best and while he's sure as hell not renowned for his culinary skills, he does know how to do the basics. But this is... a real kitchen with a stove and a refrigerator and sink and cabinets and even a little table with chrome legs and some sort of manufactured gray material for the top, little abstract designs of curvilinear triangles dancing across it in soft blues and blacks. Tucked into the corner, a high chair waits for a bigger Beth Junior to fill it. This is nothing like Jet's kitchen on the Bebop; it's about twice the size and more... well, the word for it is quaint.

Holding Beth Junior up so she can look around -- she's been quiet in a wide-eyed and wondrous sort of way -- he's almost speechless. He almost doesn't know what to say: this is... great. He speaks to Junior in a low and conspiratorial voice. "You think your mom's going to be brave enough to try my cooking, princess?" He moves her around the room so she can see in her fuzzy three-month-old way exactly what's here. Once they're back at Beth's side he catches her hand in his.

"It's... just like a home."

Yeah. Just like one.

[stbethadettes]

She tries very carefully not to let it be obvious, but she makes a point of not looking at him at first.

It's the high chair, all white and blue and pink.

But she hasn't been pregnant for three fucking months, and even when she was, she was reluctant to let him see when her eyes were full, even if they didn't spill over.

Fucking high chair.

It's perfect. They can use one once Beth's old enough to sit upright in it for meals, and she never really thought they'd have one. There's been little normal about the last four years. Not out there, and not in here.

Her fingers tighten on Spike's. "What do you mean just like one?" Finally looking at him, she smiles a little. "It better be one."

On the wall to one side of the table, there's a portrait of a bedroom.

"We're not done with the tour yet."

[not_that_spike]

Just when he was starting to wonder if maybe the couch was one of those sleeper sofas, Beth nods to this portrait of a bedroom. "Hey. Look." The picture isn't anything special -- just a bedroom -- and he wonders if that's what theirs will look like. If so, that's cool; they can set up the swing for Beth Junior in there.

But he's jumping to conclusions. "Think that'll take us there?" His hand is still in Beth's and again, he nods to her to go ahead, test it out. Maybe it's just a picture of a bedroom, after all.

But it isn't; when she touches it they're displaced in time and space for a fraction and when the feeling stops, Beth Junior is smiling and babbling and laughing up a little storm: seems she likes traveling that way. He follows her gaze to see what's got her so excited and it's Beth, she's looking at Beth and laughing and smiling and talking a million miles an hour and that... well, it makes him laugh, and he lets go of Beth's hand and offers the baby to her.

"Someone wants her mom. But first..." There's no way in hell he can resist kissing that smile on her face, and then he kisses the top of Beth Junior's head, and then he hands over the baby.

And takes a good look around: this is a big room. There's a bed and a bureau and a closet and the first door he's seen on the other side; a quick investigation reveals a bathroom complete with a big claw-foot tub and shower attachment, toilet, double sink. It's one of the nicest bathrooms he's ever seen, and it has a window up high that lets in sunlight while keeping it private, and the doorknob's made of crystal and there's something about this door that feels different from the ones in the bar and it's then he knows for sure: these rooms aren't part of Milliways. They're not part of it at all, and if they're not part of it, then he doesn't have to worry about any doors at this place because... they're separate. Separate, not under some nebulous Landlord's control and that fills him with an unimaginable relief.

Quickly, he registers the surroundings but they'll merit more investigation after the initial whoa, shit wears off: nice big bed, a couple easy chairs, a little table, and an archway into another room. Just like Beth did to him in their living room, he tugs at her sleeve until she follows him.

He hasn't even felt the need to take out his gun yet and that... might be a first. Damn if the place doesn't feel safe.

[stbethadettes]

It's so nice. It's a home.

She's barely out of the bathroom, where she'd held Junior under the arms and let her do an short and unsteady tiptoed dance in the tub, before Spike's giving her sleeve a tug. And what can she do but follow?

There's plenty of room in the bedroom for them to set up an entire little camp for little Beth, even if it doesn't give them a whole lot of privacy, but they don't have a baby monitor right now and she's not about to leave the baby in a room they have to use a portrait to get to, even if travel through only takes a few seconds.

But when they go through the archway, she realizes none of that matters.

It's a small room, the walls done up in the traditional baby-friendly pastels. There's a small chest of drawers and a rocking chair and an actual crib, and Beth grins so damn widely it almost hurts.

"Look, Junior." She holds the baby up so they're cheek-to-cheek. "You get your very own room."

[not_that_spike]

This place is like the answer to all the questions he's been afraid to ask: what happens when Beth Junior outgrows the basket? How are they going to catch a little privacy while making sure the baby's safe? What happens when the princess starts crawling: where can she practice? How about those sleepless nights when one or the other of them is on watch and the one in bed can't sleep because of the noise? Now they can do all those things. They can do them all, and they're not the only ones here with a kid. Maybe Beth Junior is the youngest, but she's not the only one and that... it means a lot.

Again, he's overwhelmed; his hand runs over the rail of the crib and it's so nice and so clean and so perfect, and never in a million years would he have known to get this for her without a swift kick to the ass.

The only thing he's going to miss about his room at the bar is the ceiling, because Beth painted all those stars for him but maybe, just maybe, he can get her to do that again for him here. Night Sky, Version Two, by Beth Durand. His arm goes around her shoulder; turning, he presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Feel like we won the lottery. Damn." And suddenly -- because he's a man and men's minds work that way -- his thoughts go to all the things he has to do: bring over the boxes, unpack, figure out how it all works, test getting back and forth, set up Junior's things, put his things and Beth's things away, see how safe that closet is and where he can stash his ammo, find out who else lives in this house. The image in his mind is of a series of bubbles and each bubble contains a little miniature universe: their rooms, Tom's and Door's rooms, whoever else's rooms, and they're all connected by portraits and keying charms and damn, that's something else. It's something else altogether; he's got no frame of reference for this or for anything like it.

"Yo, princess." One long thin finger strokes the baby's face. "You must've made a hell of an impression on Tom and Door and Ingress." Secretly (or not so secretly), he thinks it must have been Beth who made the impression. He's just a humble bounty hunter, just a guy who bumped into another guy at a bar while his hands were full of baby supplies.

Hell, maybe it was all of them or maybe the time was just right, but whatever's caused it, he'll take it.

"This place is fucking amazing. You want to stay here with Junior and I'll start bringing over our stuff?" He's fine with that: the sooner they get moved, the sooner he can start unpacking. And maybe later, when Junior's down for a nap, he and Beth can test out the bath. Or the bed.

Or both.

[stbethadettes]

She'd like to help him.

But she knows there's no point in lugging the baby around for so many trips back and forth, and somebody has to watch her.

"Sure. I'll take over for you after a few trips, and then you can watch Junior."

There's no reason to make him do all the hard work. It's her stuff, too.

Then maybe they can all go together to make sure they've got everything and give the room one last goodbye. She's not all that sentimental about this when it comes right down to it, especially now that she knows how damn great this place is for them, but there's a luxury to goodbyes.

She can admit that.

Planting a big kiss on the baby's cheek, she takes a second to just... grin like a fool at Spike.

"Would you mind bringing her basket on the first trip?"

[not_that_spike]

Damn, if he just had a camera he could capture that delighted grin on Beth's face forever. He can, in a way

(click)

but it's only for himself. Well, that's good enough; it'll do. "Basket, diapers, blanket, baby Swordfish, all on the first trip, ma'am." He was going to do it that way even before she asked; taking another look around like he's memorizing the place, he shakes his head just a little bit.

It's kind of unbelievable, but here it is. Moving back into the bedroom part his eyes trail up to the ceiling, but there aren't any stars painted up there. He's going to take a picture of their ceiling back in Room 8 before the day's through, before he turns the keys back in to Bar. For a moment he wonders if she's sentient enough to sense it when people move in and out of the rooms under her control, but... damn, that would be a lot of people to worry about. Or even to keep track of without worrying, but somehow she does. Maybe, since they're not staying there, they should get their money cards back from her.

But all those considerations can wait; right now there's a request on the table for baby supplies and he can sure as hell do that. He finds the picture on the wall of the room full of pictures and when he touches it he's back in that gallery and from there he finds the one that looks just like the one in the bar -- the dogs playing poker -- and he's back in the bar and through it and up the stairs to their room with all its boxes and stacks of things just waiting. He figures a dozen trips back and forth, more or less, ought to do it and he's not going to make Beth move stuff. He can do it.

He can do it in trade for a neck and shoulder rub later, something like that. Or he can do it in trade for nothing, because it's the right thing to do: he's taking care of his family and that doesn't come with a price tag. Loading up that basket with Junior's blanket and toys and a pile of her clothes, he stuffs the big box of diapers under his other arm and he's back, off down the stairs, through the bar, touching the portrait.

Going home.

"Special delivery." All of this shit goes right into Junior's nursery and it's the best sight in the world: Beth and the baby there waiting for him. He feels like he could melt.

[stbethadettes]

It didn't take too long for Beth to decide to take advantage of the rocking chair. Junior's three months old already, and she's never been rocked to sleep. Not in an actual rocking chair, just as well as possible in the cradle of Beth's arms. Or Spike's arms.

This is nice. This is more than she ever would've expected.

But little Beth deserves every bit of it.

Not showing any signs of growing sleepy, the baby turns toward Spike's voice when he comes back in. At the moment it's probably difficult to tell which Beth is smiling at him more.

"Thanks."

[not_that_spike]

Really, it's his absolute pleasure. Absolute: he loves them both and they make him feel like he matters and that's something he never knew was as important as it really is and he thinks maybe, just maybe, this is how normal people feel. Love's always been such a damn crapshoot for him: people come, people go. They profess their love or friendship or whatever or they don't.

No one's ever been the constant in his life that Beth's been. "One basket, one extra blanket, one box of diapers, one toy Swordfish, one baby book, one pint-sized It's all HIS fault t-shirt, and one pair of baby socks." He sets Junior's belongings out one at a time, putting on a little fancy show just for the baby, knowing Beth will either roll her eyes and ignore it or secretly appreciate it. It's just that he can't seem to keep from holding some sort of running commentary for the baby: he knows she's smart and lots of language exposure is a great thing for smart kids and yeah, every new dad thinks his kid is brilliant but he knows she is. Beth is, and Yorick kind of had to be by default. He was at least smart enough to pick the best woman in the universe.

That's kind of how he makes peace with the whole thing, or at least how he's done it in the past. He can't help it if he's a little bit of a jealous guy but damn, this is Beth. Who in their right mind wouldn't be?

That, however, can be parsed later. Once he's done with the unpacking he leans over and plants a pretty damn happy kiss to the top of Beth's head before pulling out an instacamera. "First day in the new place. All the magazines say you've got to document it, ma'am." Laughing, he steps back enough to frame his Beths in the rocking chair and, when they're both smiling, he snaps that picture. It turns out to be a real nice one, too; it's like these little cameras can't take bad pictures if their lives depend on it. Next trip he's bringing the photo album because on the list of precious things, that's definitely one he doesn't want to mistakenly leave behind.

"Any requests for the next batch of supplies, ma'am? Maybe I ought to make sure to bring over The Joy of Sex. You know, you might want to do a little reading up while I'm building up my muscles. Could come in handy later on." The moment is so satisfying and so damn domestic, he could laugh.

[stbethadettes]

Beth has never known Spike to read magazines, especially the kind that tells him he's got to take pictures to document the first day in a new place.

She's still grinning at him when he puts the camera down, and at his idea about The Joy of Sex, she tilts her head as if giving it some serious thought.

"You think so?"

Her eyebrow arches, and she shrugs her shoulders as much as she can. "Guess I better brush up, in that case. I'd hate to get caught unprepared."

If they had all the free time alone together that they used to, they could've edited nearly the entire book by now.

This business of having a bedroom all to themselves again... well, that's pretty damn exciting. And there's no need at all for some book for her to enjoy it as much as she intends to.

[not_that_spike]

"Hmm." He taps his index finger to his lips, all mock thoughtfulness. "On second thought, I think you know way more than the book, and your delivery's a hell of a lot less... dry." The picture's ready now; he hands it to her to look at. "My angel and my princess together in a rocking chair. It's kind of perfect, Beth."

The whole thing's kind of perfect. It's just about exactly halfway between life above the bar and life in that little house on Venus and, realistically, they probably won't see Venus again unless something drastic happens or things change in a big way; he's not going to risk opening that front door at the bar to walk into some hail of gunfire or worse, the end of Vicious's katana. Not unless he develops a sudden and irrevocable death wish and that's something he can't see happening. No, he still wants to make good on that every-day-a-honeymoon ideal he pledged to her on Europa, even if she doesn't know he did it or doesn't take it seriously or whatever: he does.

He's bringing the heaviest stuff next, before he gets tired: books and ammo and shoes, things like that. Two boxes at a time: he can do that. Leaning forward, he kisses little Beth on the forehead then gives Beth a regulation really nice kiss.

And a second and a third because these things are always better in threes; they've proven that time after time after time. If the baby was asleep right now...

Behave, cowboy. With a wink he's gone, and it's not too long before he's back with the two heaviest boxes (Beth and Junior are still in the rocking chair) and the next two (they're looking out the bedroom window onto a courtyard and garden and damn if it's not one of the nicest views he's seen out a window in a long time) and the two after that (Beth's laying Junior down in her crib, surrounded by her toy Swordfish and favorite blanket) before he decides to give it a little rest: he's almost halfway there with the boxes.

He waits patiently -- that hasn't always been his strong suit, but Junior's taught him a lot about that -- and listens to Beth singing the baby to sleep to the tune of some song that has and the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and I love you, I love you, I love you like never before in it. It's a hell of a sweet and private moment; he almost feels like a Peeping Tom but not quite. They've done this together, all three of them, for three months now. It'll be nice for Junior to be in a bigger bed and he's glad as hell this place moves his angel to sing.

[stbethadettes]

When she joins him in the archway between the nursery and bedroom, her voice is quiet. "We'll see if she falls asleep."

She can't help it if she's a little skeptical. For one thing, it's a brand new room. And Junior's never slept in a crib before.

Plus, barring any naps when Elaine's been nice enough to watch her, the baby's always fallen asleep in the same room as them.

Only time will tell. In the meantime, though, she lifts herself up on the balls of her feet and lets her arms curl around Spike's neck. "Time for a break? I can make some trips now."

Her voice stays low, and despite her words, she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to leave his side right away.

[not_that_spike]

"Beth." It's just a whisper, the barest hint of sound. For one thing, he doesn't want to disturb Junior if she is going to fall asleep. And for another, it's his single favorite syllable ever. He's used her name as song and prayer, as story and salvation. It's brought him strength when he's faltered and hope when there shouldn't have been any. Right now he simple revels in the sound of her name, the way it accompanies the feel of her arms around his neck.

"Beth." She's like a whole book: every bit of her a page, a paragraph, a segment of story and he never, ever wants to let her go. The phrase you mean the world to me hardly does her justice. This whole thing -- this move, this opportunity -- is something she and Junior deserve and in the back of his mind, he admits it might even be something he deserves: he's been good, if behavior needs to be qualified that way. "I love the hell out of you, ma'am. There's no one I'd rather be anywhere with. Anywhere in the whole damn universe."

Maybe they ought to take a break from moving things, just for a little bit. There's no rush; no one's waiting on Room 8.

"Let's take a few. See how soft that bed is." It's not an overt come-on: it's just time for a rest. "And then we can think about moving more shit in here." Her skin is soft; she smells like wild honey, orange, strawberries.

[stbethadettes]

She doesn't need any extra persuasion.

Her arms don't free him entirely but they slide down until her hands find his, and she leads him over with this mildly amused smile on her face.

It doesn't matter if he's got some ulterior motive for wanting to check out the bed or not. And as far as she's concerned, they've got every reason to be curious. It's their new home. Everything has to be checked out sooner or later.

It's just nice that some things -- ulterior motive or no ulterior motive -- come sooner.

Moving onto the bed, she half-curls on her side with her head on a pillow and waits for a minute, considering. Or at least putting on a good show of it.

[not_that_spike]

Sooner or later he'll make his own determination on how good the bed is; he's got a feeling it's going to be just fine. But for now he stands and looks down at Beth like he's considering whether or not to actually get in there with her. As if he could actually resist.

"What's the verdict, ma'am?" The smile on his face is nothing if not soft, strictly for her, and before she can answer he settles down next to her. The bed is plenty big; it's got posts on the corner that go up pretty high, higher than he is tall -- he'll have to make sure not to walk into those in the middle of the night -- and he stretches out next to her. It's not quite as perfect as that bed on Venus, but he doesn't think anything could live up to that one at this point: it's taken on almost mythical stature in his mind. Still, it's a really nice bed. Better than the one at the bar because it's a king-size bed, not a queen and shit, with a bed like this having a separate nursery almost seems blasphemous.

He'll take it.

Rolling onto his side, he faces Beth. After all that lifting and moving boxes back and forth, stretching out feels really, really good. If the room had a hot tub, it would be perfect. One thing at a time, though.

"What do you think?" It feels good to him. Really good: better than the old one, better than his bed on the Bebop, better than the couch on the Bebop. Plus, Beth's right here in this bed with him. From the very first time they met he's been totally up front with her about the fact he's a damn opportunist and he's not about to quit that now, so he wraps his arm around her waist.

And because she's right there, well... he kind of has to kiss her.

Three times.

"Welcome home."

[stbethadettes]

The smile that starts off as something slower and smaller and more to herself gets wider when he kisses her.

"I think it'll do."

It's his thing more than hers, but she can do understatement pretty well, too.

Her hands venture to the collar of his shirt like they have some business there, but they don't really do anything. They just kind of hang out there.

She'd put good money on Junior not actually sleeping in the nursery right now, but there's no crying going on yet and that's a good thing.

"What do you think?"

A place like this to live in is even less normal for him, she thinks, than it is for her.

[not_that_spike]

The only times he's ever been in places like this was when they belonged to rich people. Even the places he lived when he was little weren't this nice. It's almost like his parents were afraid to get comfortable anywhere, knowing their only kid would fuck things up again and they'd just have to move again. So it's not his fault, he thinks, if he can't quite believe this is theirs or that it's real.

He doesn't tell Beth any of this, though. Instead, he savors the feel of her hand on his collar, which he can feel vibrating right through his clothes, tightening his hand on her waist just a fraction.

'I think I've never met anyone like you, Beth. I think I've never been so lucky my whole damn life. I think I'm surprised Junior's not crying in there. I think you're beautiful. I think I'm in love. I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I think the bed is... great. I think the whole place is great."

He also thinks it would be meaningless without her and the baby.

"And I think I need just a few minutes here with you, and then I'll bring more shit over. Or we can unpack what we have so far and then get more." He knows he doesn't want to live out of boxes; that's no fun.

"I also think we should try out that bathtub later on. It looks perfect for a two-person bubble bath. Just... don't tell all the tough guys out there I suggested it. They'll kick me out of the club." Secretly, he bets every single guy who ever wielded a gun out of necessity takes time out for small luxuries.

It's just that they don't talk about it.

[stbethadettes]

"I think you're sweet." One of her legs hooks possessively over his. "I also think I'll be making some trips while you watch the baby."

Maybe they're both stubborn, but she's not helpless. It's true that since before Junior was born she's craved something a little closer to a normal life, but she'll be damned if she's regulated to stay-with-the-baby-and-take-it-easy status just because she's a mom now.

She's more than capable, and though his stubbornness is one of the things she likes so much about him, his macho streak and her need for independence apparently have to duke it out from time to time over stupid things.

"But I definitely think trying out the bathtub sounds good."

Maybe they should think about getting a baby monitor after all. It would let them take showers together and hear the baby over the running water if she starts crying.

And honestly, she misses the showers.

"You know I can keep a secret."

[not_that_spike]

Yeah, he knows she can. And if she really wants to bring over some boxes, he won't complain: he loves spending quality time with Junior. It's also why he brought the heaviest things over already; the rest of the boxes are fairly light in comparison. And then there are the few clothes hanging in the closet back over the bar he didn't bother to box up, figuring they were just going to go from one closet to the next and why make extra work if they don't have to?

He's lazy by opportunity instead of necessity. One of those little survival habits he's picked up over the years: relax when he can, sleep when he can, be awake when he can.

"You really want to move stuff, Beth, I'm not going to say no. Just... not right this minute. It's kind of peaceful and relaxing." And really, they don't have a lot of those moments these days.

The bed is nice. "Strange having her in another room, isn't it?" Maybe they ought to go check on her, she's being so quiet, and then he hears it: she's in there talking.

Talking.

To herself, and damn if she doesn't sound amused as hell; he has to work hard at not laughing but he doesn't want to disturb her little moment of whatever.

"Think we should go look?" She sounds okay. In fact, she sounds like she's having a hell of a time... and he'd love to see the look that goes along with it.

[stbethadettes]

It's very strange having Junior in another room after all this time, but even with how fiercely protective Beth feels about her, few things can cramp your style like having a baby live in the same room with you 24 hours a day every single day.

This is good for all of them.

Her expression softens more at the sound of that low conversational babble coming from the nursery, and she nods after a moment. "Let's check on her."

It's all new for her, too.

Lifting herself off the bed, she walks quietly to the archway and peeks into the nursery after a silent smile to Spike.

Junior's just hanging out there, on her back, the toy spaceship clutched in one hand, and it occurs to Beth that the crib is really just asking for a mobile over it.

There's a break in the babble, and she can see those little legs kick.

[not_that_spike]

She's... so fucking cute, that baby, lying there amusing the hell out of herself. It's a new experience for her, being in a crib. He sure as hell wasn't expecting all these furnishings or whatever, but... here it all is, and here they are, and it's a new home to get used to.

It's sweet in a bittersweet kind of way; if he could have it all, he'd be back out there among the stars and planets with the both of them. But he can't have it all and he's made his choice, knows exactly what's important to him now. It's not the gun and it's not the bounties and it's not the thrill of the chase. It's not piloting through the darkness or kicking some guy's ass or any of that shit. What's important is right here... and they're both named Beth

He's glad about that. For a while Junior was going to be named David, until Beth found out she was a girl. Either way would have been fine with him but it was never up to him. All he knows is if she'd been a boy, Beth might not have come back this summer. There would have been this sense of obligation, somehow, to help repopulate her Earth and... well... he doesn't like to think about where he'd be now if that had happened.

In the crib, Junior's legs start to pump faster. She gives a little grunt and he knows what that means: time to get the diapers and changing supplies unpacked. "I'll take care of that one, unless you have a real strong desire to do the first diaper change in the new place: I'm easy." One hand moves up and down Beth's back in this I don't ever want to be not touching you, ma'am kind of way. This place is so private, so perfect.

[stbethadettes]

"Knock yourself out, bounty hunter."

This time she won't argue with him.

"I'll help you get out what you need, and then I'll go bring the last few boxes over. Deal?"

It's still light enough wherever exactly the outside of their windows is that they don't even need to turn on a light to see well enough to rummage through things, and when they get in Junior's line of sight, she gurgles excitedly.

"Hey, little girl."

The baby still doesn't look anywhere near sleepy. It's like she knew they'd be back soon if she just amused herself long enough.

Once an extra blanket, baby wipes and baby powder and baby lotion, the tube of Desitin, an already opened package of diapers and Junior's cloth frog are out and waiting to be put to use or at least placed somewhere in easy reach, she stops to kiss the side of Spike's face on her way out to room 8.

"What do you say to that bath once she does finally go to sleep?"

[not_that_spike]

"I say it sounds perfect." If little Beth doesn't want to fall asleep in her crib, hell, they can bring her into the bathroom in her basket just as easily. Still, it'd be nice if she would sleep. "Don't carry too much, ma'am." It isn't a warning he has to give but he gives it anyway; their first night in the new place should be something they celebrate, not something from which they have to recuperate.

While Beth's gone he does the diaper thing. He's getting good and efficient at it now, even knows exactly how to wrap up the old ones so they don't stink and everything. There are plenty of logistics to figure out about this place, but they will. People live here; it's a working place. All he has to do is ask Tom when he has questions... like what do they do with the trash? Above the bar, it was always taken care of.

Or he could ask Ingress. Once the baby's diaper's changed he takes her over to the window: it's pretty. Still a courtyard and garden and even at this time of year it's really nice. No flowers now, of course, but it's still pretty and he bets in the spring it's going to be something else.

"Take you out there, princess. Take you out there any time you want. And we have this room and your room and the living room and the kitchen which is real good, because when you're old enough to have some hand-eye coordination, I'm going to teach you two things. The first is to use chopsticks because any eating utensil that you can use as a weapon too is a really good thing. And the second is magic. I'm going to teach you to pull things out from behind your mom's ear, just so you can see her whole face light up. But that's just between you and me. We'll keep it a secret until it happens. Promise. Swear on it."

Almost as if she understands, Junior lets out a little squeal of glee. Together they stand in front of the window; he rocks her back and forth in front of the window. With the fresh diaper on it only takes a few minutes for her to get sleepy: if she's napping by the time Beth gets back -- which should be any minute -- they can take advantage and explore that tub. And if she isn't, he'll just tell her more stories.

Seems perfectly fair to him.