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.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-12-22 04:13 am (UTC)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.