SUBTLE SMILES:

"...I've made it my business to observe fathers and daughters. And I've seen some incredible, beautiful things. Like the little girl who's not very cute - her teeth are funny, and her hair doesn't grow right, and she's got on thick glasses - but her father holds her hand and walks with her like she's a tiny angel that no one can touch."

There are some moments when Tate knows that Bo is his daughter.

Like when she crinkles his nose at the precise moment that Tate does- that happens often. She also likes the same flavor of milkshake that he does, vanilla, although that doesn't truly count. She sometimes furrows her eyebrows and scratches beneath her eyes to show a look of frustration, the exact same movement that he maneuvers when someone is grating on his nerves. (Often times, it's Bo herself)

But her stubbornness? It's exactly like his. She crosses her arms and scowls, her hazel-nut eyes flashing with emotion that he's so familiar with.

They're a lot of differences, too. Like her sense for justice, for one. Bo somehow still thinks that the world is all lolly-pops and rainbows, despite finally being able to call getting chased by police on an every-day basis normal. That irritates Tate beyond belief. He sees the longing in her eyes when she watches other children playing and laughing on the playground at school. The confusion, and he sometimes has to remind himself that she is just a little girl. A ten-year-old girl who's never been to school. A ten-year-old child who thinks that guns and weapons and torture is something that's supposed to happen on an everyday basis. But yet, apparently in her childlike eyes, helping people you don't know somehow is more important than not going to jail. And trust him, to put yourself out in front of a gun for the sake of a stranger is just plain ridiculous. Bo doesn't get a load of things. You'd think that seeing death everywhere would enable you from being naive, but it's like she focuses on one piece of the puzzle instead of the whole picture.

But then she somehow manages to save their lives, or enough so Tate can save their lives, with some crazy-ass mojo that still scares him shitless. She doesn't seem to mind how powerful she is, how Bo can kill someone without meaning to. Hell, she can snap Tate's neck in an instant if he pisses her off enough. And that's the problem- they argue. A lot. A lot-a lot. He yells, she calls him a two-faced jerk, he makes that stupid argument that all parents use, (I'm the adult, and you're the kid and I'm telling you...) then Bo roars and lights flicker on and off, or something crashes and shudders, and Tate shuts up, because if she mistakenly hurts him, Bo would never forgive herself. He watches the fear and shame flash in her eyes when she loses her temper (heaven knows she's done enough of that) , and she glances down at the floor, crestfallen and frightened. Besides all that mushy stuff, he particularly does not want to be in the middle of her psychic abilities and rage, thank you very much.

They definitely seem to have the same temper.

So, yeah, Tate is suspicious. After all, it's not like he's been careful with his business, if you get his gist. But the differences outweigh the similarities (or maybe he's just trying to convince himself) so Tate ignores (someone trying to kill you serves as a decent distraction) until he's forced to think about it again, like when Bo smirks in smugness when she gets her way, exactly like him, and it's back to square one.

There's a sinking feeling that comes with the idea of him being Bo's daughter. All this responsibility and unwanted feelings. Everything would change. He's responsible for her, sure, and he cares enough about the kid to be her dad, (Tate hasn't ditched her out on the streets yet, has he?) but he really doesn't want to be her father. If she dies and it turns out he's the father, somehow Tate thinks that would be worse. And he's not the daddy-dearest type, although surely Bo gets that by now. But he also does want to be her father. He cares about Bo like a daughter, not that he'd ever tell her that. It's very conflicting, time-consuming thoughts, so he ignores it.

Then Bo argues with Tate and he yells back, and the world spirals back to its everyday axis.

But there's these subtle smiles between them. Smiles of appreciation and admiration- smiles that he doesn't want Bo to know he shares.

Because somehow, if she knows the way he smiles at her, then she'd be his daughter.

And he definitely wasn't cut out to be a father.

A protector, sure. A mentor, a role-model, a caretaker, a friend...yada, yada, yada. But not her dad.

Too bad those were all synonyms to being a father.

A/N: Aw, I just started watching Believe, and I absolutely LOVE it. Tate is a freakin' boss, and Bo is too, and I just love the relationship between the two. I can't wait for Tate to finally find out she's his daughter, because I know that episode will be explosive. This was short, I know, but it is a drabble. And no spoilers please, since I'm only on episode 4. R&Rs appreciated!