Felicity Smiles

There was always this soundtrack that played in Ben's head whenever Felicity smiled, a series of notes that perfectly matched the gentle curve of her lips and sparkle in her pretty eyes. It was this staccato kind of jazz, with a steady little drum line and undeniable trumpet beat. It reminded him of this song that was playing the first time they worked late together at the coffee shop. It's usually the last thing he hears before he goes to sleep.

Her smile was special. It didn't just impact her mouth but her entire being. You could read her happiness in her gaze, a stare so steady and so intense that it could literally hold Ben in waiting for hours. It was his favorite thing in the entire world. It's what made him fall in love with her the first time and kept him falling in love time and time again.

He loves his son. He's probably – no, definitely – the best thing that ever happened to him. And yet, not even that mischievous little smirk can live up to Felicity's smile. That's how much he loves it. It's nice to find a sense of home in such a small gesture. With his dad gone and his mom back in California, he needs that here in New York.

There are times when the shifts at the hospital are long that her smile is the only thing that can bring him comfort. It's the only way he can justify the violence he sees in the emergency room, the wives with their obvious bruises and the teenagers with their track marks. It reminds him that there is good in the world and that maybe his son has a chance to feel safe. It brings him hope when he needs it, and after spending three years at the worst hospital in the poorest part of the city, he has needed it a lot.

But it's not just about the way her smile looks. There is the taste. Her smile definitely has its own taste. It's this mixture of the strawberry chapstick she gets at the holistic pharmacy on Bleecker and the inevitable cup of cinnamon tea she always has with her and sunshine. He isn't sure how anyone can taste like sunshine, but Felicity absolutely tastes like a warm afternoon on the Northern California coast. He thinks this might be his favorite part. It kind of plays into that whole "sense of home" thing.

Her smile also has its own feeling. He doesn't mean the texture of her lips or the shape of her mouth, though both those things make her grin extraordinarily remarkable. No, it's the way it fits with his. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, at the end of their freshman year, it was like two puzzle pieces sliding into place. It never gets old, the way they fit together in a way that's just right. She is the half that completes his whole.