New Chapter
Jul. 4th, 2004 03:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Right Place, Wrong Time from "The Late Spike Spiegel Blues"
Summary: Spike is fucked, basically. But not literally. You'll see.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 719
Rating/Warnings: R to be safe, but a light R.
Pairing: Spike/Faye
A/N: I know the title's a bit cliched, but I really like that song, and the lyrics are really appropriate, I think. Next chapter is basically the other side of this one, where I get all up in Faye's head. Hurrah for Faye!
He had a headache.
He didn’t get normal headaches. It was rare that he got them at all, and when he did, they were usually of the “Oh sweet mother of God, you have done messed up now, Spike Spiegel” variety.
The lukewarm water from the shower was soothing, but it wasn’t helping his head. Why had he done that? It was stupid. Completely idiotic. How could he do that?
He’d never been angry with Julia. Never, not even when she didn’t show at the graveyard. Except tonight. It had made so much sense then, but now, it seemed so wrong, like an affront to her memory.
And he wasn’t being fair to Faye. He was just using her to get back at Julia and Vicious, who were far beyond his reach now. But dammit, what about that second time? What was that? All she wanted to do was love him, and, he had to admit, he wanted to let her. But not now, not just yet. He needed time to think, to decide where he was going in all of this. Then, perhaps. But now… right now, he’d just be using her. And she didn’t deserve that.
He toweled off quickly and threw on his suit, then walked down to the living area. Dinner was… interesting, to say the very least. Jet kept trying to start conversation, which didn’t work. Faye wouldn’t look at him. When Jet dropped his chopstick, Spike jumped a foot in his chair.
Faye finished her dinner first and headed off towards her room. Spike followed her movements carefully, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He didn’t noticed Jet watching him.
“What the hell’s gotten into you two?” Jet asked, half grumbling, half concerned.
Spike was caught off guard, which didn’t happen often. “Er, it’s nothing. Really.” He was acting like a twelve-year-old girl. Great.
Jet sighed. “I’m going to go talk to the bonsai,” he told Spike. “Maybe they’ll tell me what’s really going on.”
Since Jet had already called the bonsai, Spike decided on consulting the ceiling in his room. Maybe it had some answers.
-
There was a knock on the door some time later. “Come in,” said Spike, not meaning it.
Faye stepped through the doorway. She walked in without so much as a word, climbed on top of him, and started kissing him. Oh no, please, no, why this, why now? Spike thought. Why is it always when I’m trying to do the right thing? He pulled away from her. “Faye, I-” he started to protest. But she put her finger to his lips, and with her free hand, she unfastened her shirt.
He wanted her desperately. Her hands were working down his body, pulling back his jacket. How long had it been? Now they were sliding down, popping his shirt buttons open one by one. A voice in his head kept whispering, “You can’t Spike. You can’t do this to her.” He silently urged it to go right to hell. Her hands kept moving downwards…
Spike’s resolve won out. He pushed her back, a little more roughly than he intended.
He’d have given anything, anything in the world not to have to see that expression on her face. She looked as if her whole world was about to crumble. But she still wasn’t saying anything. Jesus Christ, why wouldn’t she say something? Why couldn’t he say something, anything?
She fastened her shirt and walked out of his room, half-heartedly slamming the door behind her. Spike sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples. Well. That went well. Perhaps he should crash the Redtail and set all her clothes on fire while he was at it.
Spike buttoned his shirt back up. He couldn’t just leave her to sulk, if he ever wanted any peace. He got up and walked out of his room, headed towards her door. He was going to have to explain himself, before she started making little Spike voodoo dolls.
Spike was standing in front of her door now. A little nervously, he raised his hand to knock. Dammit, she was probably crying by now. There was nothing worse than a crying woman. But he knocked anyway.
“Faye, are you in there?” he called. “It’s me, open up.”
Summary: Spike is fucked, basically. But not literally. You'll see.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 719
Rating/Warnings: R to be safe, but a light R.
Pairing: Spike/Faye
A/N: I know the title's a bit cliched, but I really like that song, and the lyrics are really appropriate, I think. Next chapter is basically the other side of this one, where I get all up in Faye's head. Hurrah for Faye!
He had a headache.
He didn’t get normal headaches. It was rare that he got them at all, and when he did, they were usually of the “Oh sweet mother of God, you have done messed up now, Spike Spiegel” variety.
The lukewarm water from the shower was soothing, but it wasn’t helping his head. Why had he done that? It was stupid. Completely idiotic. How could he do that?
He’d never been angry with Julia. Never, not even when she didn’t show at the graveyard. Except tonight. It had made so much sense then, but now, it seemed so wrong, like an affront to her memory.
And he wasn’t being fair to Faye. He was just using her to get back at Julia and Vicious, who were far beyond his reach now. But dammit, what about that second time? What was that? All she wanted to do was love him, and, he had to admit, he wanted to let her. But not now, not just yet. He needed time to think, to decide where he was going in all of this. Then, perhaps. But now… right now, he’d just be using her. And she didn’t deserve that.
He toweled off quickly and threw on his suit, then walked down to the living area. Dinner was… interesting, to say the very least. Jet kept trying to start conversation, which didn’t work. Faye wouldn’t look at him. When Jet dropped his chopstick, Spike jumped a foot in his chair.
Faye finished her dinner first and headed off towards her room. Spike followed her movements carefully, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He didn’t noticed Jet watching him.
“What the hell’s gotten into you two?” Jet asked, half grumbling, half concerned.
Spike was caught off guard, which didn’t happen often. “Er, it’s nothing. Really.” He was acting like a twelve-year-old girl. Great.
Jet sighed. “I’m going to go talk to the bonsai,” he told Spike. “Maybe they’ll tell me what’s really going on.”
Since Jet had already called the bonsai, Spike decided on consulting the ceiling in his room. Maybe it had some answers.
-
There was a knock on the door some time later. “Come in,” said Spike, not meaning it.
Faye stepped through the doorway. She walked in without so much as a word, climbed on top of him, and started kissing him. Oh no, please, no, why this, why now? Spike thought. Why is it always when I’m trying to do the right thing? He pulled away from her. “Faye, I-” he started to protest. But she put her finger to his lips, and with her free hand, she unfastened her shirt.
He wanted her desperately. Her hands were working down his body, pulling back his jacket. How long had it been? Now they were sliding down, popping his shirt buttons open one by one. A voice in his head kept whispering, “You can’t Spike. You can’t do this to her.” He silently urged it to go right to hell. Her hands kept moving downwards…
Spike’s resolve won out. He pushed her back, a little more roughly than he intended.
He’d have given anything, anything in the world not to have to see that expression on her face. She looked as if her whole world was about to crumble. But she still wasn’t saying anything. Jesus Christ, why wouldn’t she say something? Why couldn’t he say something, anything?
She fastened her shirt and walked out of his room, half-heartedly slamming the door behind her. Spike sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples. Well. That went well. Perhaps he should crash the Redtail and set all her clothes on fire while he was at it.
Spike buttoned his shirt back up. He couldn’t just leave her to sulk, if he ever wanted any peace. He got up and walked out of his room, headed towards her door. He was going to have to explain himself, before she started making little Spike voodoo dolls.
Spike was standing in front of her door now. A little nervously, he raised his hand to knock. Dammit, she was probably crying by now. There was nothing worse than a crying woman. But he knocked anyway.
“Faye, are you in there?” he called. “It’s me, open up.”
