B a B y

Love

A/N: Jasmine and Buddy Fluff. :)))))

3rd Person P.O.V

The sleepy sun is painting the sky in deep orange hues, with red and pink freckles sprinkled over the disappearing blue. But Buddy's eyes catch something even more beautiful. His smile is soft as he sees Jasmine on the porch, her legs under, her, her face towards the still warm, gentle breeze. She's the most breathtaking view he's ever laid eyes on.

"Come, sit here for a while, Buddy," Jasmine says when she catches him watching.

"I knew you'd be cold." He drapes the soft blanket he's brought out with him over her and she gives him a thankful smile. "How are you feeling?" Jasmine sighs.

"Perfect." Her hand wanders to her stomach as it does so often. His eyes follow the movement. There's a definitive bump these days. Their baby. Buddy never thought he'd get to experience this again. This is a second chance for them. Not just with the new baby, but with their son as well.

"Not tired at all? Hungry? Thirsty?" 

"Buddy, we just ate." She pats the empty space beside her; he got the new porch swing not that long ago. Once he was feeling better, his medication doing its work, he felt like he needed a change. Start something new. He bought it on a whim, falling in love with it at first sight. So did Jasmine when she moved back into their house. It's her favorite place. It's, his too because his favorite place will always be right beside her.

"But you're eating for two."

"Buddy, sit." Her voice is dangerously close to the one she uses when she is tensed so he obeys. She scoots closer to him and he puts his arms around her. "It's so peaceful. I sometimes forget the world can be like this." There's soft chirping in the distance as the crickets prepare their own night music.

"This is our life now," Buddy says, kissing her temple. She smells like the sun, like the green apple shampoo she's started using recently. Most of all she smells like home. "We're out of work, Jasmine." It's like an afterthought.

"Hmmm." She doesn't sound concerned at all. Not one bit. They're out of the FBI, once again. This time there will be no going back. Buddy puts his hand on Jasmine's. Like a promise to their unborn child that the life they've led is over. She'll grow up safe and sound with parents who are around, who won't go chasing after criminals anymore.

"We'll be boring, old people," Buddy goes on, chuckling softly. He likes that thought.

"We're not old," Jasmine whispered softly. 

"Then we'll just be boring. We'll stay at home and bake all day." Buddy said.

"That sounds nice." Jasmine's voice is drowsy. She's beginning to feel heavy against him, a clear sign that she's falling asleep.

"It does?" 

"Hmmm, Buddy. What if this wasn't our life? What if we could be anything we wanted to be? What do you want to do? Where do you want to be?" Jasmine asked.

"We're still together?"

"Of course," she replies with a smile he feels against his chest, right where his heart is. She cuddles closer to him, waiting for him to paint her a story.

"I don't care where we are or what we do, Jasmine. As long as we're together."

"Now that is boring." Jasmine giggled.

"Fine," he huffs, leaning his head against hers. "Do you remember that case in Home, Pennsylvania years ago? That incest family?"

"Do I want to know where this story is going?"

"Do you remember or not?"

"I remember," Jasmine says.

"I want us to live in a place like that. Without the murdering, of course. Like we do now, here in this house. We have a bunch of kids, dogs, and cats. There's Emily, there are Jackson and baby girl and several more in between." He feels her tense up against him.

"We adopted two or three of them, giving them a new home when they needed it." She relaxes again, liking his ideas.

"Are we rich?" She chuckles, playing with his fingers. She touches each one before she laces them with hers. He watches in fascination.

"Hm, no. We have enough to live comfortably, but we're not rich. You're a well-respected doctor with a practice in town. You only work three days a week and only for a couple of hours."

"What do I do the rest of the time?"

"Help me raise our children. Oh no, wait. You do that, too, but we have this cute little café where hikers and tourists like to stop by. We're selling homemade pies and cookies. The whole place is decorated with mysteries. Ghost sightings, bigfoot sightings - you know?" He's getting into his story, feeling it. If he closed his eyes, he'd be there in the small, cozy place. It's warm and sweet, always smell like fresh coffee. He can almost taste it.

"You'll always be a bit spooky, huh?" Jasmine tips her head up to smile at him. He has never been in love like this before. This is it for him. Has been it for forever. He smiles back, a feeble thank you for her love. He touches his lips to hers, needing to taste her.

"You know what it's called?"

"Hm?" Her eyes are half closed again. He'd be offended that she can fall asleep like this, while he admits his crazy dreams and fantasies, but he knows she loves his voice, loves listening to him. Making a new person is exhausting; he doesn't blame her for needing to rest.

"Our little café," he whispers. He tugs away a strand of hair that the wind has blown into her face. She scrunches her nose, the hair tickling her. "It's called "My Wife's Café". Everyone will be like 'why did you call it that?' and I'll explain that I'm the only person who knows how to make your favorite coffee. I opened this place just for you so you could drink your favorite coffee every day." Jasmine is quiet, her eyes closed. If he has to, he'll tell her the story again. Won't be the first time.

"I love you, Buddy. That will never change. No matter where we live, who we are or what we do. I just love you."

The porch swings squeak softly as Buddy sets it in motion. The baby likes the movement. He holds Jasmine close, breathes the same air she does.

"I love you, too. Always," he says knowing that she already knows.