gonna_live | (no subject)

Kaylee laces her fingers through his. "You made a list," she says, encouraging.

"And we've made plans," he says. "...I suppose that counts as getting something done."

"Be lazy," she stage-whispers. "I won't tell."

He starts to chuckle.

"You're very persuasive," he tells her solemnly.

"And cute. You forgot cute."

"And cute," he agrees.

Kaylee leans her head over until it brushes against his shoulder. "Lazy." Contentedly.

He lifts a hand to smooth her hair.

"Won't be too many opportunities to be lazy, come the new year," he murmurs.

"Mm," she agrees. "Gotta take advantage of it while we got it."

He studies the ceiling.

"Have you ever," he starts, and trails off.

"Ever what?" She angles a glance up at him.

"Done any gardening? Or wanted to?"

There's a faint note of embarrassment in his voice, as if aware he's asking something that may sound like (may be) a foolish question.

"...for use? Or just because it's pretty?"

Nothing in Kaylee's voice but curiosity, unless it's a little speculation.

"Either one? I was thinking about the yard."

"You got anything in particular in mind?"

"Not really, I just..."

A faint, rueful smile.

"I always liked the idea of having fruit trees. Or berry bushes. I just don't have any idea how much work that would be."

She laughs a little, low and fond.

"Bushes might be a little easier. Trees take a while to come up with somethin' you'd want to eat. Like ten years." Kaylee settles her head more firmly against his shoulder. "Nothin' wrong with havin' a little grow-your-own operation, though. We can look into that. And I think I'd like it too."

A small chuckle. "Ten years is a little longer than I'd want to wait, yeah."

He starts to say it, then stops, and it only sounds in his head: I don't even know where we'll be in ten years.

"And until then... reckon the market'll have to do for the stuff off trees."

"It should do just fine," he says. "And we're not too far from it, so."

Kaylee nods a little, and lets her eyes close.

He smooths her hair again, in a gentle half-conscious gesture.

"Do you feel like a nap?"

"I oughtn't, but..." A little wry. "I don't sleep so good over there."

She's got a pallet set up -- her hammock would just be too weird -- and she's taken to napping there for three or four hours at a time and working overnight a few nights a week. Including last night.

"And you're there tonight as well?" He rolls onto his side, lifts himself up onto one elbow. "A nap might not be a bad idea."

"...oh, so now it's your turn to be a bad influence?" She grins up at him. "Is that what this is?"