milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

It might be a record: two days running, and he's still in a great fucking mood. Hell, he'd probably be nice to Vicious if he walked through the door right now.

Then again, maybe not.

Spike sits at the bar with a cup of iced coffee, facing the rest of the room, looking through a handful of photographs. Every now and then he stops and smiles and looks like he's completely lost in memories.

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Elaine nods and takes the camera from Spike, looking at it and making sure of which button to press.

Her drawings take a long time to make--and it's strange that a little machine such as this can make a picture in almost no time at all.

Elaine looks through the little window, and backs up a little so that she gets all of them in the picture.

"Okay," she says, and when expressions are right, she snaps the picture.

She stays still, unsure of whether to move the camera or not.

"Thanks." Spike turns and kisses Beth on the cheek, reaching out for the picture just barely attached to the lip of the camera; it flutters into his hand.

Autofocus, autodeveloped.

"Nice picture, Elaine." He shows it to her: they both look pretty damn happy. "Do us one more, would you?"

He holds Beth close to him this time, and gives her that kind of smile that he never, ever gives to anyone else.

Elaine beams and nods, holding the camera up again.

If it didn't have such a lack of tactile sensation (no paper, no pencils, no blending with the fingers), she might actually get used to this method of picture-making.

She clicks the button and another picture, flawless, perfect, comes out.

She's so close to laughing, so close, and she knows without even seeing it that she's going to think of this picture as some absolutely priceless treasure.

She reaches to take the picture before it falls from the camera. "Thanks, Elaine."

It's perfect: Spike's got her wrapped in his arms and is giving her one of those satisfied little smiles that never fails to make her heart jump.

Perfect.

"Thanks," she repeats.

He looks at the picture and kisses Beth again: completely unabashed in that don't-give-a-shit-who-sees kind of way. Then he reaches out and takes the camera from Elaine and examines it: 2 more pictures left.

They can save those for another time. Unless they get back sooner than he thinks to Venus or Mars and one of the hundreds of little tourist shops lining the streets of every damn city on every planet and moon and asteroid.

He'll take her there. He will: he promised.

"So. How do you like this little camera, Elaine? I should have gotten a few more."

Of course, maybe the bar can make some cameras just like this for them; he'll find that out later. For right now, he lifts his iced coffee to Elaine, to Beth, and takes a sip.

"It is an interesting way to make a picture, indeed. They're so perfect and so quick."

It is most curious. People making paintings sometimes labor for months for their imperfect portraits.

"I must admit to still liking my pencils and paper, though." She smiles.

Beth leaves one arm around Spike's narrow waist. It's just comfortable there.

"I like your pencils and paper, too. That sketch you did of us a long time ago is one of best things I've gotten since I've been here."

She's always thought so. But she can't help glancing down at that last picture again.

Like the real thing isn't right there beside her and they can't look at each other just like that whenever the hell they feel like it.

She's still smiling when she finally moves to take a seat at the bar.

He looks at her again just like that. And gives a different sort of smile to Elaine: just as genuine, but calmer, more serene.

"I like that sketch a lot too. Pictures are pictures, but art is different." He tucks the photos into his chest pocket for safekeeping: wouldn't do at all for someone to spill a drink on them or any of that shit, and they're going up on the wall in Room 8 just as soon as he and Beth get back upstairs.

"I always thought that any guy with a camera could take a picture. It might not be great, but it'd be there. But it takes something kind of special to be able to draw." It's something he's never been able to do. Even the schematic he sketched out for Beth way back when kind of sucks. It really didn't need to be art to make its point, but still.

Although Beth never seemed to mind.

Elaine smiles. "Well, I suppose that there are ways to take a bad picture, as well."

She enjoys watching Spike and Beth interact with each other. They are so nice together.

"I am glad you have had such nice adventures together. Thank you for showing me the pictures."

"Yeah, I took bad pictures all the time when I was a kid." Beth grins. "Used to get my fingertip showing up in half the shots I took."

And this is another one of those times when she doesn't feel bad about talking for both herself and Spike. "It was our pleasure, Elaine."

Really, she's pretty glad they got to have some nice adventures together, too.

It was our pleasure.

Hell, yeah, it sure was.

And he wants to ask Beth which fingertip? and kiss each one in turn until she says that one that one, but he won't do that when Elaine's here. Though he's pretty sure she saw a hell of a lot more than that in L.A.

"Elaine. You want practice Friday, or do you want to skip it this week?" She might just not feel like it... and that would be fine.

Then again, she might. And that would be fine too.

Elaine thinks. "Hmmm...I think I will be helping to nurse a sick friend--Ryan's daughter is very ill. So, not this week...but next week, most definitely."

"Okay."

He's easy.

It just means more time with Beth.

Elaine smiles. "Then next week it is. Good night, Spike, good night, Beth." She hugs each of them and heads upstairs with her picture.

She is nearly back to herself completely.

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