Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of baby Booth. He could tell she was barely containing squeals of the sort. His suspicions were confirmed moments later when she tugged on his arm excitedly.
"Oh, Lance. We need to make one of those!"
"We'll, uh, talk"
And talk they did. He never thought they'd end up where they are now.
Yet here he stands; the warm bundle-full of baby comfortable in his arms. The blue blankets are tightened by caring hands around newborn baby James and he finds himself not able to take his eyes off the sleeping infant in his arms. He's a smart man, an accredited clinical psychologist and yet he never ceases to find himself amazed at the magnitude of the life he'd helped to create that now rests in his arms. His moment of solitude is interrupted by a soft arm winding its way around his waist.
"Lancelot?" she murmurs, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Mm?" he mumbles noncommittally, his attention still taken by the child in his arms.
Daisy peers at their baby and smiles softly.
"He's asleep. Are you coming back to bed?" she inquires.
Lance swallows the hoarseness from his voice, rather than waking the child with the rumble of his chest.
"No, I'm good here," he replies, not taking his eyes off of his son for a moment.
And he was. He was content just to stand there gazing and wondering over the little life in his arms for as long as the child slept, or until his own tiredness overtook him.
Daisy rested against his side, reaching up to brush her fingers over the side of James' face delicately.
"Okay," she whispered, her arm joining his in the hold around their son.
And there they stood, the perfect, albeit small, family, just treasuring their time with each other. Even if it was well past three in the morning.