A quick, meaningless, fluffy song fic. If you can guess the song, I'll send you a preview of either a new story, or a new chapter of an continuing one of mine (when it's written, obviously). If you know the answer, chose between those two and I'll remember to send it to you.
She was beautiful.
He already knew that, of course. It certainly wasn't just some realization that had come to him when he'd seen her at a particular angle. No, he'd known since the beginning, when he'd been (in her words), "all big ears and leather". He always thought her beautiful. When she was laughing, when she was crying, when she slept, and even the mask of bravery she used to hide her fear was beautiful.
She was far too beautiful to be travelling with an old man like him.
But that never seemed to bother his Rose. She barely even seemed to realize it, often staring at him in awe or appreciation, as though she were the lucky one.
He thought he'd seen everything. He'd seen white snow pilled on mountains in the summer, and he'd seen the gorgeous glow of the Alaskan sun set, glinting of the unmarred, smooth snow that seemed to perpetually cover the ground.
And he'd seen cities. Beautiful, shinning cities. One of his favourites was New New New New New New New Tokyo. Tall buildings and clean streets and seemingly flawless.
Not even the Northern Lights came close to his girl's beauty. He remembered taking her to them for the first time, how her eyes had widened with aw and joy, and the smile that had grown on her face.
He'd seen them before.
Which was good, in retrospect, because on his trip with Rose, he didn't look at them once.
Not for a second.
And he thought (hoped), for a moment when she thought he wasn't looking, that she had gazed at him, too.
It didn't seem to matter to her that he wasn't always able to help everyone, no matter how hard he tried, that sometimes, he'd had to walk away. It didn't seem important that sometimes, when he didn't think she would realize, he'd given up.
He never expected her to stay when he needed her but didn't want her to see him, damaged as she was.
But no matter what she saw, Rose's faith in him never seemed to waver.
He tried to ignore it, obviously. To ignore her gaze and to push forward, rambling stupidly on about things that hadn't seemed important. He'd laughed, mostly at himself, when she'd raised her eyebrows at him, as if to say are you alright? When he didn't stop rambling.
When she looked at him, he felt a lump in his throat that somehow seemed to make him unable to say anything important.
Once upon a time, he'd forced himself to believe that he'd made a mistake bringing her along. That she was just some stupid ape along for the ride; that she'd try to make him domestic. He should have packed his bags, so to speak, and move on.
But that never lasted.
Because when she looked at him with her beautiful, molten-gold, wide, innocent eyes, he could not look away. When he'd been tired, he'd looked into those eyes and felt energy burn in them. When he'd been worn down, angry at himself, and regretful about his decisions, he would see her wide eyes and know that she loved him, regardless. When he didn't know where else to look, his wan face would turn to her shinning, wide eyes.
She was his solace, his favourite place.