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sabinetzinTitle: Santa Elena
Summary: Spike plays hookey.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 300
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Faye
A/N: So. A ficlet. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30_kisses. Inspired by a bus trip between Santa Elena, Guatemala, and Santa Elena, Belize.
“Where are you?”
“Santa Elena.”
“Which one?”
“Number 10.”
“What the hell do-” There was a muffled discussion on the other end. “We’ll be there.”
He lay down on the bed. The room belonged to someone who owed him no end of favors. The hunched woman at the front desk lit up for Mr. Spiegel, sir, and doesn’t he want his usual room, and how long will he be staying with us, and would he like anything to drink?
The city, if you could call it that, was hardly worth noticing, a few neighborhoods cut off from the rest of Tijuana by a deep gorge. She walked into town, grey mud staining her white boots. A crowd of small, laughing girls ran around her, chattering to each other. She waved off offers of taxis, jewelry, and God knows what else. As she was passing the park, a sudden rain swept in. Faye pulled her shirt closer around her and ran for the clean white building.
He switched on the TV. Big Shot flashed the name of some bounty that wasn’t worth going after. Nothing but small fry lately. There was a knock on the door, which swung open without waiting for a response.
“Buenos tardes.”
“Noches. It’s too late for tardes.”
And then she was on him, running her hands through his hair.
“Did you get him?”
“This morning.”
“Where’s my share?” Faye asked, laying a closed kiss on his lips.
“I thought I’d keep it. You’ll just gamble it away.” This earned him a punch on the arm. “You and Jet’ll get yours when we get back.”
She reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. “I hear my communicator just broke.”
“And the bounty just slipped through our fingers again.”
“Looks like we’ll be hunting for him all night.”
“Again?”
Summary: Spike plays hookey.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 300
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Faye
A/N: So. A ficlet. For
30_kisses. Inspired by a bus trip between Santa Elena, Guatemala, and Santa Elena, Belize. “Where are you?”
“Santa Elena.”
“Which one?”
“Number 10.”
“What the hell do-” There was a muffled discussion on the other end. “We’ll be there.”
He lay down on the bed. The room belonged to someone who owed him no end of favors. The hunched woman at the front desk lit up for Mr. Spiegel, sir, and doesn’t he want his usual room, and how long will he be staying with us, and would he like anything to drink?
The city, if you could call it that, was hardly worth noticing, a few neighborhoods cut off from the rest of Tijuana by a deep gorge. She walked into town, grey mud staining her white boots. A crowd of small, laughing girls ran around her, chattering to each other. She waved off offers of taxis, jewelry, and God knows what else. As she was passing the park, a sudden rain swept in. Faye pulled her shirt closer around her and ran for the clean white building.
He switched on the TV. Big Shot flashed the name of some bounty that wasn’t worth going after. Nothing but small fry lately. There was a knock on the door, which swung open without waiting for a response.
“Buenos tardes.”
“Noches. It’s too late for tardes.”
And then she was on him, running her hands through his hair.
“Did you get him?”
“This morning.”
“Where’s my share?” Faye asked, laying a closed kiss on his lips.
“I thought I’d keep it. You’ll just gamble it away.” This earned him a punch on the arm. “You and Jet’ll get yours when we get back.”
She reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. “I hear my communicator just broke.”
“And the bounty just slipped through our fingers again.”
“Looks like we’ll be hunting for him all night.”
“Again?”
