He once told me that he wasn't lookin' for her, hadn't wanted her, but sure as all hell need her. Standing here now, watching them fight each other in silence, passion oozing off them in layers, I can't help but roll my eyes. These two never argue with words, instead they spar, scaring most of us to an early grave. Their little Leah is clinging to my holster, the calculating expression in her face is her mother's, as her father's eyes watch her parents work out their latest disagreement.
It's a dance of poetry, not at all plain and simple. While they move so fast some could get dizzy watching, lost in my thoughts, their movements seem to be in slow motion. A twirl here. A flip there. Who knows what the argument is about this time, probably something silly like hoggin' the covers. Doesn't really matter though, it never really does anyways. Neither of them ever wins.
Soon their waltz, becomes more silly. He gently tugs a strain of her hair. She leans in to pinch the corner of is rear. Breathing heavily, he brushes that strain of hair behind her hair, and she wipes droplets of sweat from his brow. Grabbing her hand, he kisses her crown as she leads him back to the mess with Little Leah bouncing behind them. I've never seen so much love and friendship among two people in the entire time I've traveled this 'verse.
They sit there together, at the table, in silence. Everyone else is off doing whatever it is they do, but I've decided taking the time to watch is good for the soul. I know they know I'm here, but they're so wrapped up in each other nothing else really matters. Leah sitting in his lap watching his able hands whittle her a new whistle to annoy Captain with. She's watching the two with a critical eye, capturing the gentle moment with her pencil. They've changed so fast, and seem to keep on changing, but here, now I'd almost think they were frozen in time; the perfect picture of contentment, and I am so thankful I got to see their story bloom.