Day 10: Summer Romance

Day 10: Summer Romance

***

It was summer when they met. Or, well, it would have been summer on Mars. It was most definitely not summer on Titan itself - not the way she expected summer to be. There weren’t really seasons on the small mining moon. Or, not seasons as Earth and Mars experienced them. Technically seasons on Saturn, and subsequently also Titan, lasted years (more than seven Earth years and just over three Mars years) but the weather of the seasons did not vary much at all.

It was tidally locked onto Saturn with the same side constantly facing the gas giant with its glowing rings. The view, when visible, was starkly beautiful. A depressing contrast to the neverending grays and sandy browns of Titan itself. While there were rivers and lakes and seas, it was dry where the battlefield was. All desert as far as the eye could see. Desert and sandstorms and bloody conflict.

The days were long and dim. The nights were long and dark. The sky was almost constantly hazy and the air quality poor at best. Bunkers had been brought over by army trucks, long and narrow rooms where soldiers could eat or sleep or train. It was the only place where a person could take a breath and not feel as though they were choking.

She regretted volunteering immediately. But the recruiters had been so passionate about the cause. Mars desperately needed the minerals and materials that Titan had in abundance. The liquid hydrocarbons outnumbered in the hundreds that which could be found on Earth, which itself had far more than Mars. The silicates and iron were negligible, but the liquid hydrocarbons… the basis of crude oil, natural gas, coal… the energy sources that were so necessary for life everywhere.

She was no miner. No oiler. Not at all versed in how to obtain the resources from the land or lakes here on Titan. But that didn’t matter in the least. She was the brawn. The brute force. The line of defense for those hard working individuals.

Her unit and the half dozen other units waging a drawn-out war against forces from Europa and Ganymede. Mars had had a military presence on Titan since the first Titan War, but Elektra herself had only been stationed there since she left Mars during spring.

Vincent, as it turned out, had been on Titan considerably longer.

They met while on patrol one dusky evening. She witnessed him saving the life of another soldier by using his own body to shield the other man when a section of the trench collapsed in a bombing attack from the enemy. She'd always appreciated strong men, men who fearlessly stood up in protection of others. And while the way he filled out his uniform was certainly easy on the eye, it was actually the way he carelessly pushed the boundaries of what was allowed that gave her a secret thrill.

His thick black hair was longer than what was permitted and caught her eye both for the luxurious sheen in this dusty world and for the way the length flouted the rules so boldly. His eyes were gray and kind. His hair was what she noticed first but it was the eyes - the window to the soul, as they said - that held her rapt.

Something about her must have appealed to him as well because as soon as the alarm blared to signify the end of their shift he was at her side, a question in his gaze that she answered wordlessly by rising up to capture his lips with her own.

The kiss was greedy, possessive, powerful. They were soldiers, fighting to show off their skill. They were on the forefront of a brutal engagement where they saw comrades falling each and every day.

Survival was by no means a guarantee. It wasn’t just the enemy forces they had to worry about. The methane rain, the blinding sandstorms, the chilling temperature drops, the venomous creatures scuttling about on this godforsaken rock. There was no end to the threats that they faced, even in slumber.

This war, unlike the first on Titan, was a summer war and theirs was a summer romance.

Their affair was invigorating. He was an incredible lover, attentive and energetic and full of charm. They spent hours together whenever possible, though being in separate units meant that their schedules did not sync very often. But they made the most of every encounter.

She learned that he had been a soldier for years and outstripped her in both rank and strength. It became a form of foreplay for her to contest her abilities against his. In this dangerous place, with no hope for getting home, it was crucial to keep honing your skills. To pour your all into fighting techniques and breathing techniques and dreaming about a return you might not live to experience.

Hand to hand combat turned into life-affirming love making every chance they had to steal away.

Theirs was a deep connection, the most intense relationship she’d ever had. He worshipped her body with his, he beguiled her mind with recitations of poetry and chapters of philosophical books he’d committed to memory. In return, she showered him with love physically and emotionally. She ran her hands through his mane of hair, singing softly to counter the howling winds outside the bunker.

They spoke of goals outside of survival. Reminiscing about summers on Mars in the craters… the blue skies, the green grass, and everything they missed from home. Daydreams of getting back and sinking their teeth into ripe plums and peaches and whatever fruit was in season at the time. Sweetness and tartness colliding on their tongues, juices dribbling down their chins. Simple pleasures they could only revisit in dreams or in their postcoital whispers to one another.

The months passed by and they fell deeper and deeper into love. It was an intoxicating romance, the kind of desperate affair that feeds the heart and fuels the soul and forestalls any notion of ever finding another person with whom one can be so utterly whole.

And then abruptly her tour was over and she was being shipped back. It was entirely unexpected. She had signed up for three years and had only served two. But her unit was rounded up overnight and loaded onto a transport ship before she could find him to say goodbye.

Watching the moon recede in her mind’s eye - for the transport ship had no windows in the cabin where the army was seated - she felt her heart breaking.

Day 7 Prompt: Fireflies

***

The night sky was clouded over obscuring everything that was normally visible in the evenings. There were no moons, no stars, no satellites or space stations. Nothing to break the gloom that hung over the field except, here and there, an abrupt flash of light. Tiny sparks that appeared and disappeared so swiftly that Jet almost thought he was imaging it until Ed shrieked and pointed.

"Look! Ohhh, gone… oh there! Look quick!"

"What's that now?" Faye asked in a bored tone. She didn't look up from the novel spread open on her lap and casting a glow on her face.

"You're gonna ruin your eyes reading in the dark like this," Jet commented.

At his words, her eyes lifted to glare at him over the top of the book. "These pages are backlit. Don't be ridiculous."

"Studies have shown that there's still strain involved," He noted with a shrug. "Ed can back me up on this. But what do I care? They're your eyes, not mine."

Ed was running circles around the both of them, Ein trotting at her heels and yipping with excitement.

"Can you see them? The blips! Look, look!" She came to an abrupt halt beside Jet and pointed at one of the brief spots of light he'd noticed earlier.

Realization dawned. "Oh, those are lightning bugs, Ed." Jet said. "My grandmother told me about them. When she was a little girl on Earth she used to spend time at her grandfather's farm. He had fields and fields of goldenrod, and his wife had lovely gardens around their house. At night, her grandparents would bring her outside after supper to watch the sunset and the lightning bugs come out. She'd catch them in jars sometimes."

"Catch them? Bugs with a bounty on their heads?"

He chuckled. "No, she'd just collect a few and watch them glow until she fell asleep and then her grandfather would release them again." He paused thoughtfully, trying to remember everything he'd been told about the little critters. "That was one of the things she said she missed the most about living on Earth. See, Ganymede doesn't have any. There's no fields or swamps or forests or, well, any nature really. And most places they were introduced - like Venus or Io for example - were too arid. I think that's why they're all but extinct on Earth too. Though I guess who really keeps track of anything like that these days." He realized he was getting off topic, though Ed seemed to be listening intently. "They're good bugs to have around. They would eat the slugs and snails out of her grandmother's garden, protecting the plants."

"Ohhh good bugs." Ed watched with wonder as more and more lightning bugs appeared around them.

By this point Faye had set aside her book on methods of physical therapy and was watching as well. Her face took on a wistful expression. "We called them fireflies when we saw them," She confided. "Never caught them - it's just better to let them live in peace."

Ed nodded without taking her eyes off the brightly blinking bugs.

"We are the watchers, they are the watched." She bent down and scooped Ein up into her arms and for a few quiet minutes everyone just observed as the lightning bugs, or fireflies, puttered around and alternated between glowing greenish or going dark. Then Ed gasped. "Spike-person! How is he going to see them from the hospital?!"

"We're on Mars, Ed. He's probably seen them before since they exist here after all," Faye replied.

Jet didn't think that was likely. Spike seemed like a city boy through and through. The odds of him having spent time in one of the craters like this where nature had been given free reign…

"It's okay, Ed," Jet reassured the teen. "We can always come back here with him once he's on his feet again."

"Yay!! Ed loves camping." She grinned at him though it was hard to see now that it was so dark out. "Ed is glad you responded to the hail. Tracking meteors was dull, dull, dull! Going here then there then everywhere… it was making Ed dizzy! The Bebop travels all over but we go at a much better pace. Gotta stop and smell the roses! Take time to make time!"

A snort from Faye. "More like we'd get stuck somewhere til we made enough money for gas,"

"Anyway, Ed," Jet spoke over his salty comrade. "I'm glad you reached out to us. Even if you decide to help your dad again someday, there's always a place for you here."

A sigh from Faye. "Yeah kid," She confirmed a moment later. "It was nice to duck out for a minute after the ship was running again. I can only handle Mars in small doses and it would've sucked to just sit around waiting for that lunkhead to get better. You gave us the impetus to get our shit in gear."

A giggle from Ed. "Impetus! Big words from Faye-Faye! Were you reading the dictionary?" She teased.

"Hey!"

Jet laughed. Things weren't exactly back to normal yet - one member of the crew was still missing, after all, but it would only be another week or two before he was released into their care. Jet was looking forward to it and also dreading it. No doubt Spike would be surly after so much time spent in a hospital hooked up to machines. He never made a particularly good patient, but his wounds had been too much for Jet to handle himself.

Even the recuperation was gonna be different than anything Spike had been used to before, which was probably why Faye was reading up on physical therapy. That would be a whole cranky ordeal.

But now Jet had an ace up his sleeve. A way to break up the monotony. Something relaxing and refreshing and full of unexpected delights.

A field far from the city, where the only lights came from the little bugs that continued to dance around the trio - and Ein - as they basked in the peace of the moment.

Day 12: Garden

***

"Yo Faye, were you messing around in the workshop?"

Faye glanced up from her magazine where she'd been reading an article on 'health and beauty tips for the working woman' to see Spike looking puzzled at her from just inside the round doorway.

She arched a brow at him inquisitively. "Why would I bother going in there?"

Looking back at her magazine, she could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her response. "Of course, why would I ever expect you to do something as critical as cleaning your gun."

"Why would I need to? We have a deal, don't we? I clean your wounds, you clean my gun." She shrugged. "Not my fault one needs doing more than the other. What's the matter anyway?"

He sighed. "I'm missing some flex cables. Have you seen any around?"

Faye frowned at that and sat up on the couch, laying her magazine down open-faced on the table in front of her to give him her full attention.

"I'm missing some nail polish myself." She shot a quick look at his nails - void of any color - and then peered up at his bemused expression. "All right, I'll accept your innocent stance at this time."

"If it wasn't you fucking with shit then…"

With identical expressions of mutual realization, they spoke the obvious answer together. "Ed."

***

"Hey now, that's looking pretty good!"

Faye, eyes slanted suspiciously, shared a curious look with Spike as they made their way down the hall towards the sound of Jet's voice coming from the bonsai room.

"Wahoo! The fairies will love this garden!" Ed's voice exclaimed.

Reaching the doorframe, Faye leaned over to peek around while Spike sidled up behind her to look over the top of her head. Faye felt her jaw drop when she saw the goings-on in the plant space.

Jet was crafting tiny pieces of furniture - a rope ladder, a chair, a hammock - out of twigs and pieces of string. Ed, meanwhile, was laying out pieces of dried beans painted in lurid - and very familiar - shades. The pathway she was creating with the beans was lined on either side by cable wires that looked too similar to Spike's missing flex cables to be anything else.

"What's going on in here?" Spike's voice boomed out above her, startling Faye as much as it spooked the other occupants of the bonsai room. Even Ein, who had apparently been asleep on the floor by Jet's feet, gave a surprised bark as he scrambled to all four paws.

"Edward is making a fairy garden! Fairies come to gardens and bring good luck, prosperity, and good health!" She gestured giddily to the chipped tokoname pot on the bottom shelf, which she had apparently appropriated for her own purposes.

There was a golden gate ficus bonsai tree happily ensconced in a corner of the soil there, though now a tiny swing hung in the space between the lowest and next highest arch of the double S shaped tree. Ed had made a gated trail with the nail polish painted beans and cables from the tree to the coffee pot whose lid had broken recently. The interior of the coffee pot bore varying levels of stains from the previous contents and had been filled with peat moss, various stones, glitter and small glow in the dark stars. Bits of dog fur had been clumped up into the rough shape of a mattress inside the coffee pot next to a miniature bedside table (obviously a piece Jet had made earlier using part of an empty cigarette pack) and there was a dented flat scrap metal from somewhere on the Bebop that was clearly intended to serve as a sort of porch for the furniture Jet was making with meticulous care.

"Mm. Well, that's real mystical and all, but I'm gonna need those cables back." Spike declared after dutifully inspecting Ed's little nature scene.

"Oh no! Ed's got something from everyone so everyone gets something from the fairy!" The teen wailed.

Faye eyed up the lanky bounty hunter as she straightened up from her own crouched position to look at the pot filled with treasures. Spike was running a hand through the back of his hair, looking discomforted over upsetting Ed. He was wearing his workout clothes which gave Faye an idea. She smirked and reached out to untie and rip off the cord that held the pants cinched around his lean waist.

Spike yelped and grabbed at the hem to keep his bottoms in place.

"Faye, what the hell!"

"Here Ed," She offered the drawstring to the girl. "I'll trade you, then you'll still have something from Spike." She glanced at the man in question. "Cheaper to replace this than that, I assume." She nodded towards the cable that Ed was already removing.

Spike grumbled. Jet snickered. Ein, who had gone back to sleep when it became clear that the interruption earlier was only the other crew mates arriving in the room, gave a snort and snore. Ed sang a little song of nonsense as she worked and Faye smiled as she gave herself a mental pat on the back for damage control.

Day 13: flip flops / thongs

***

"How disturbing! This is not the place for that!" A voice exclaimed, catching Faye's attention as she walked past a parking lot while nursing Lupin.

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to glare at the offended couple.

"Excuse me?"

Spike sighed as he came to a stop beside Faye and Lupin's little mouth popped off his mother's nipple as the baby tried to roll over towards whatever - or in this whoever - had caught his mother's attention and ire.

"Having those out on display is entirely inappropriate!" The man went on, glaring at Faye's chest.

"Oh? And yet flip flops and a thong is fancy enough attire for a family friendly public beach?" Faye demanded, pointing at the man's companion - a woman a third his age with a teeny tiny set of triangles perched precariously on her breasts and with a thong bikini bottom that disappeared up her backside curves.

"You're someone's mother!" The young woman cried, scandalized.

Faye frowned at her. "Yeah? What of it? It's 40 degrees out with no breeze! And this is a nude beach to boot! In fact, you know what?" Grumbling, Faye passed Lupin over to Spike and aggressively untied her own top and then for good measure shimmied out of the bottoms too. "How do you like me now?! Fuck, being someone's mother makes the fresh air on these nipples even better than it was before I had a kid!" She stood proudly before the pair, took a deep breath in, and let it out peacefully. "Try it before you knock it or judge anyone else!"

With that, Faye turned on her heel and strode on down the beach, leaving Spike - grinning bemusedly and still holding Lupin - to follow.

"You know …it's not actually a nude beach, right Faye?" Spike chuckled as he caught up to her, shifting Lupin in his arms as the baby began to fall asleep. "Ed put up those signs to fuck with people."

Faye let out a sheepish laugh. "That girl I swear… Well, let's get further down the beach so I can put my suit back on. I don't want those prudes to see me climbing back into clothes as if I'm in the wrong."

"Baby, you make wrong look so right," Spike teased, waggling his brows at her lasciviously.

written in response to the two part prompt from the Bebop Wheel of Death challenge... spin one resulted in: Doc. Spin two resulted in: Mars. Enjoy!

* * *

It was the end of the day and Doctor Quinn John-Henry McCoy was more than ready to be done. Cosmetic surgeries were simple enough as far as the work itself went, but dealing with the individuals who wanted things augmented or enhanced was exhausting and irritating.

 On the other hand, the pockets of the folks who wanted that work done tended to be very deep indeed. Living on Mars wasn't cheap. Well, living decently on Mars wasn't cheap. You could technically live anywhere without money but it wouldn't be a very good life.

 It's not like there were no soup kitchens or halfway houses available for those down on their luck - there were plenty of good Samaritan organizations that did what they could to help their fellow man. It's just that there were a lot of expenses to everything on Mars. And the systems that governed the crater colonies had all been set up to directly benefit the wealthy and perpetually widen the gap between the elite and the common man.

 Most jobs advertised as hiring full time employees but then never scheduled workers for long enough shifts to count as full time. Most food or health benefits were set on a sliding scale so no matter how much or little you made as a typical worker, you somehow never quite qualified for benefits. There was no universal health care so you'd have to trust in your employer to provide something adequate or else shell out a good portion of your paycheck for a deductible that wouldn't do much towards your bills.

 Just about everything on Mars was a racket. Though of course no one really had much of a choice about it. The selling point, from what Doc had heard from older folk, had been a simple slogan: Poor Men Will Be Rich, Rich Men Will Live Like Kings!

 That kind of enticement, along with the colossal destruction of habitable sections of the planet, had led the majority of Earth's population to flee to the fledgling cities and colonies of the other planets. Fortunately, Mars had been one of the well established ones, chock full of able-bodied men and women who had been brought over as a labor force prior to the Gate Incident.

 Doc's grandfather had been one of those men - lured by the promise of a phenomenal payout for services rendered. Of course there had been a catch. Or, well, several. Employment was at-will and severance meant a loss of everything accumulated towards that retirement stipend. The rich folks who had been footing the bill for the construction of the colonies had realized that they could endlessly shuffle employees back and forth between this company and that, firing people for minor transgressions most often, and could therefore avoid ever having to actually honor the offers that had been extended when they signed up to work.

 The other catch, of course, was that the labor was literally back breaking. People were pushed to the limits of their endurance to build the foundations, to set up the biosphere, to lay out the tracks for the train systems that would eventually connect all the crater colonies to one another.

 Naturally, in an environment where people were being exploited and becoming more and more aware of this, there came a point where certain factions started to rise up. Not in rebellion exactly but rather as mediators after a fashion.

 Syndicates began to carve out a foothold in each of the colonies. Delivering truckloads of food stuffs to the poorest neighborhoods, setting up mobile medical bases, and laying down the law more effectively than the beleaguered police force that had been charged with serving and protecting the wealthy upper class.

 Doc's father had been one of those. Low enough to be involved without recognition, high enough to be in-the-know for all sorts of shady business particularly that which related to politics. His father ran campaigns for many years and for many people. It had been a valuable position and the Red Dragon syndicate benefited greatly over the years from his connections.

 His mother had gone into nursing after her father - Doc's grandfather - had become too physically disabled to continue working. With no retirement funds to speak of, there was no money for hospital care, but Doc's mom took it upon herself to be a caretaker for the old man, in addition to working long hours at one of the biggest hospitals in Tharsis.

 Doc himself had been raised in Tharsis. Had been inspired by his mother's skills enough to pursue a career in the medical field as well. Had been quietly and subtly insinuated into the syndicate thanks to his father's ties there. Not quite a member, not quite a free man, Doc had made a pretty good life for himself thanks to the behind the scenes work that the syndicate required of him.

 Eventually though he'd begun to subtly drift away. Oh, he still took on cases whenever it was asked of him - there was no way to actually escape a syndicate after all, not alive at least - but he made excuses for why Tharsis wasn't the place for him anymore and - very openly, to ensure no one thought he was fleeing - moved his practice over to Alba City instead.

 Syndicate jobs were far fewer over here as the Red Dragons didn't have much of a reach to Blue Snake territory. Still, they considered it a good thing to have someone like Doc settled in, should they ever need his capabilities or whatever connections he (much like his father) may have made in otherwise uncharted territory. Not that he’d bothered to branch out and make many new friends or acquaintances. He had enough people in his life to worry about - namely, his own damn self. Venturing on dates, befriending neighbors, these prospects held no interest for him. Life consisted of going to work, going home, getting lost in a movie or book.

 Enjoying adventure vicariously was his preferred method of getting the most out of living.

 Of course, having syndicate ties usually meant that adventure wound up finding him more often than he’d really like…

 He winced at the sound of the door to the lobby banging open and leaned back in his chair, content to let the secretary out there handle whatever was going on. For all he knew, it was the woman’s boyfriend back to pick up her from work - the man tended to barge places and slam things as if he’d never learned to control his own bodily movements beyond achieving the success of whatever his goal might be.

 “Ya gotta give us a chance here!” A man’s voice argued with the secretary. “The smog in Tharsis was choking us! So we came here…” The rest of the man’s story faded into the background as a high pitched whine filled Doc’s ears. Smog. Smaug. A reference to a dragon from some old Earth fantasy novel, a clandestine way for a syndicate man to make his allegiances known. A demand for attention that Doc could not shirk without facing terrible consequence.

 He shot to his feet and made his way to the lobby with only a touch of haste. Pushing open the door, he looked first to the secretary who was giving a level glare to the newcomers.

 “Doc, these jerks are –”

 Waving his hands at her in a shooing fashion, Doc shot a pained grin over his shoulder to the pair of men standing in the doorway.

 “Don’t worry about it, Nurse Houlihan. It’s all good, there weren’t any more appointments scheduled for today anyway. Why don’t you go ahead and take off? I know your boyfriend likes to get here early on the weekends, I can handle these gentlemen here. Perhaps recommend a good lung doctor for any issues they’re suffering thanks to the awful air over in Tharsis. Still the best move I ever made, leaving that city.”

 Nurse Houlihan raised an eyebrow at him as she moved to gather up her things. “You sure you’re good, Doc?” The glare she gave to the men was fierce.

 Doc chuckled. “I’ve handled worse from tiny little old ladies.” He assured her, making her grimace in recollection of just such a bitchy case from earlier that very day. In no time - though not without another dark look cast at the syndicate men - she departed and Doc finally turned fully to the men to give them his full attention.

 Oddly, they weren’t what he expected. Most syndicate men - particularly Red Dragons - tended to wear black suits and red ties. It was an idiosyncrasy of the organization that he’d frankly never understood. Then again, who cared about advertising your affiliation if the folks you were affiliated with happened to rule the majority of the city you were in? So perhaps it made sense that these fellows were otherwise attired.

 One, who was mostly supporting the other, had on a rumpled blue suit with a blood-stained yellow button-up shirt and an undone tie. The other was in some sort of flight suit with a t shirt underneath - his clothes also rather bloody - and, rather curiously, a metal arm. It was very unlike the syndicate to leave one of their operatives without proper replacement surgery for whatever injury might befell them in their daily lives. That was what most of the work Doc himself had done for the syndicate. Reconstructive surgery was his bread and butter, and throwing a new arm on someone was far easier and often cheaper than going the route of robotic limbs instead. Very puzzling.

 There was a significant gash sweeping over the face of the man in the flight suit on the right side of his face. The rest of his face - that side in particular - looked very painful indeed. Sections were already purpling and swelling and, from the look of agony in his good eye, making his life very uncomfortable.

 The other man settled his companion on a chair in the lobby and stood back up to stare at Doc.

 “Came to the right place, yeah?”

 There was something about the hair of the fellow that seemed to trigger a memory in Doc’s mind but whatever it was… it wasn’t coming to the forefront of his thoughts right now.

 “Lock the door, would ya? Don’t need some janitor popping in to clean up. Come on back, I’ll get you sorted in a jiff and back out on your merry way.” Doc replied tersely, turning around to lead the way through to the examination room.

 The man in the flight suit gave a groan as his companion hoisted him back to his feet and helped steer him in the right direction. In no time Doc had the hurt man laid out on the examination table and was peering at the images from the x-ray machine.

 “Classic zygomatic fracture. You can see here that the socket and cheekbone are what suffered the brunt of the impact.” Doc did not bother to inquire what had struck the man’s face so brutally to do so much damage to the bones. “Normally I’d say a front lift would take care of it but… well, to be honest I don’t think the cheekbone will stay in place on its own. It’ll be weak going forward as well. There’s an implant we can use to bolster the bones. Some small metal plates and screws will take care of the issue. Minor surgery, easy peasy.” He nodded to himself. “For a little extra I can ensure that gash doesn’t scar either.”

 “No. Let it scar.” The injured man finally spoke in a gruff no-nonsense voice.

 Doc glanced at the man’s metal arm. “Sentimental type, I see.”

 This time there was only a grunt in response. Doc looked over to the man in the suit, struck again by a niggling thought that he knew that head of hair, and the lanky fellow shrugged.

 “Well, suit yourself. All right, I’ll knock you out and we can get started –”

 “No. Don’t need to go under.” The gruff man interrupted.

 “If you’re conscious you’ll only make my work harder on me and more painful for you,” Doc advised him.

 “It’s fine, Jet. I’ll make sure he only does the job he’s supposed to.” The lanky man said then to his comrade. “Doc knows what happens if he doesn’t do his job right.” The ominous threat was entirely unnecessary but apparently it appeased the injured man enough for him to give a curt nod - which, from the wince of pain, he immediately regretted - and closed his good eye as if to will himself to unconsciousness for the surgery.

 With his back to the two men as he readied his tools, Doc rolled his eyes to himself. Brutes like this guy were some of the toughest patients to deal with simply because they thought they could handle anything by sheer stubbornness. It almost made the attitudes of the persnickety aging actors enjoyable by contrast.

 Sighing, Doc turned back around with a needle and injected the knockout drug into the flesh arm of the gruff man. He slumped on the examination table almost immediately and his companion chuckled as he moved from his casual lean against the wall to sit on the lone chair in the examination room.

 “Work your magic and we’ll be outta your hair in no time, Doctor…”

 But Doc shook his head at the lanky man. “We don’t bring names into this. Doc is fine.”

 The lanky man shrugged indifferently. “Works for me, Doc. Do me a favor and wake me up before he comes around, yeah?”

 Blinking in surprise, Doc nodded. After all that showiness of making threats on his life, this upstart was just gonna take a cat nap awkwardly on the chair here? Of course, Doc knew his life was forfeit if he killed - intentionally or otherwise - a member of the syndicate while trying to patch them up. Which made him even more confused about this duo. The lanky man was undoubtedly a Dragon, but the guy in the flight suit seemed like a civilian - definitely not a man in the know and obviously with no idea how procedure went in situations like this.

 But he wasn’t paid to puzzle out oddities like this pair, and he wasn’t keen on finding answers to questions he maybe shouldn’t be asking, so Doc ignored the burning curiosity inspired by these men and got down to work.

 Only one thing remained clear: Alba City wasn’t far enough away from the tangled mess that was Tharsis.

Whoops already fell behind on posting here 🤷‍♀️

Here's the prompt from Day 2: Summer Nights

***

[Spoken:]

[Boy:] On a hot summer night...Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

[Girl:] Will he offer me his mouth?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] Will he offer me his teeth?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] Will he offer me his jaws?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] Will he offer me his hunger?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] Again, will he offer me his hunger?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:]And will he starve without me?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] And does he love me?

[Boy:] Yes

[Girl:] Yes

[Boy:] On a hot summer night…Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

[Girl:] Yes

[Boy:] I bet you say that to all the boys

The drums crashed and sent the song into a straight jam as Spike and Julia, laughing and falling over each other, began to dance wildly on the stage. The music drowned out the cheers and jeers of the crowd and everything dwindled around them until there was only the two of them. Spike, clad in jeans and a plain button up shirt and tie, dropping down onto his knees on the stage as he stalked towards Julia, in her dark leather pants and short white dress-turned-shirt with a belt cinched at her natural waist, as she baited him by shimmying her entire body.

Their jackets were long forgotten in the booth where Vicious still sat, nursing a bourbon and smiling his Mona Lisa smile at his associates. Their antics were the highlight of the night for many of the patrons of Renee's Respite. Not quite a property of the Dragons but not exactly clean of association with the syndicate either, it was one of a handful of bars where the fledglings were welcome as long as things didn't get too out of hand.

Naturally, Spike and Vicious had been kicked out of this place a time or two for getting into brawls. Not the way Vicious preferred to fight, but Spike was a fan of letting off some steam with his fists and feet, and Vicious would always back him up. Besides, technically the last time they'd been made to leave had been Vicious's fault. The issue had been another patron - not a regular - who simply wouldn't say the bar's name right no matter how many times Vicious had corrected him. Reh-spit, not re-spite. Eventually he'd had to remove the man's tongue when it became clear he'd never say it properly.

[Sung:]

It was a hot summer night

And the beach was burning

There was fog crawling over the sand

When I listen to your heart

I hear the whole world turning

I see the shooting stars falling

Through your trembling hands

Meanwhile on the stage Spike was singing along word for word with the karaoke song, gesturing out over the crowd as if to build the scene of the lyrics. Julia obligingly raised her hands in front of her and towards the heavens, shaking ever so slightly, her eyes wide and full of delight as she pretended to gaze at the sky.

You were licking your lips

And your lipstick shining

I was dying just to ask for a taste

We were lying together in a silver lining

By the the light of the moons

You know there's not another moment

Not another moment

Not another moment to waste

Acting out the song, Julia stepped into Spike's personal space as he rose up from the crouch he'd been in to lean heavily over her. As if in a call-and-answer, he then tilted back as she pressed forward to lean over him in turn. The crowd hooted and hollered as they strutted across the stage with not an inch of space between their heaving chests.

You hold me so close that my knees grow weak

But my soul is flying high above the ground

I'm trying to speak but no matter what I do

I just can't seem to make any sound

Julia ran her hands up Spike's arms to cradle his face between her palms and Spike lifted his own hands to cover hers as he continued to sing, first to her and then he turned slightly to shift his focus on the crowd as if singing now to the audience.

And then you took the words right out of my mouth

Oh it must have been while you were kissing me

You took the words right out of my mouth

And I swear it's true

I was just about to say I love you

And then you took the words right out of my mouth

Oh it must have been while you were kissing me

You took the words right out of my mouth

And I swear it's true

I was just about to say I love you

By now some of the other patrons had begun to sing along. Vicious shook his head in amusement and raised his tumbler of liquor to quietly toast his partners as they ate up the attention they were getting. Julia was grinning ear to ear, not nearly as breathless as Spike who was both singing and dancing.

Now my body is shaking like a wave on the water

And I guess that I'm beginning to grin

Oh we're finally alone and we can do what we want

The night is young

Ain't no-one gonna know where you

No-one gonna know where you

No-one's gonna know where you've been

You were licking your lips

And your lipstick shining

I was dying just to ask for a taste

We were lying together in a silver lining

By the the light of the moons

You know there's not another moment to waste

Letting his body quake and his lips spread into a smirk to rival the one on Julia's face, Spike dropped back to his knees and then rose up as he sang, hands tracing up Julia's leather clad calves, thighs… his hands gripped her hips briefly, squeezing and eliciting a sharp laugh.

Vicious knew Spike would pay for that later. Julia hated to be tickled.

And then Spike was kissing along her neck in between words of the song, still swaying against her as Julia danced her way backwards toward the brick wall behind them. Teasingly, she grabbed his tie and yanked his face to hers, taking him in a dominating kiss before releasing him so she could spin him around and shove him away all in the same smooth move.

And then you took the words right out of my mouth

Oh it must have been while you were kissing me

You took the words right out of my mouth

And I swear it's true

I was just about to say I love you

And then you took the words right out of my mouth

Oh it must have been while you were kissing me

You took the words right out of my mouth

And I swear it's true

I was just about to say I love you

Once again breaking the fourth wall, Spike sang to the onlookers. Julia crept up behind him, hands reaching around his ribcage to grasp him in a sort of hug as her chin came to rest on his shoulder while the song drew to a finish. Then Spike and Julia both collapsed to the stage floor together, laughing uproariously, as the crowd thundered with appreciative cat calls and stomping feet to indicate the intensity of their approval.

Tripping over themselves as they made their way back to Vicious, Julia slipped into the space beside him as Spike settled in across from the white-haired man. Draping herself half onto his lap, Julia snuck the bourbon from his grip and tipped it back to drain the remaining contents while Spike, still breathing heavy, pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.

Grabbing the smokes from the green-haired enforcer, quick as a snake, Vicious drew out his own lighter to bring one of the cigarettes to life before passing it off to his winded comrade. Spike gave him a wink and half a grin as he accepted the lit smoke graciously.

"Those things will kill you one day," Vicious said then, letting a hand creep up Julia's thigh to splay possessively upon her upper leg.

Exhaling a noxious cloud, Spike shrugged. "You feel this to be true and yet you help me on my way to the grave,"

"Vice is nice, and sin is in." Julia interjected then, flashing a toothy smile at both men. "Let's blow this joint, the scene is dead."

Vicious raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "And you've some better idea of how we ought to spend our time?"

"Our incredibly valuable time," Spike threw in. "We're highly important men, you know."

She scoffed. "You boys? Surely you jest." Drumming her fingertips on the tabletop, she frowned prettily as she thought. "Oh! I've got it! Let's go crash the soirée at the governor's mansion. We'll find out real quick who Mao's favorite is when he's gotta come bail us out."

"Of the three of us, only Vicious comes close to meeting that dress code," Spike demurred, waving a hand negligently at the man himself, clad in a pale three piece suit with a lilac colored silk scarf upon his shoulders.

Julia grinned fiercely. "Aww you don't think you can make it past the gate, hey? Shame, shame… what kind of syndicate man can't access places he should not be?" She touched her own chest fleetingly, adding innuendo to her taunt.

Spike rolled his eyes over to Vicious who shrugged elegantly.

"Nothing quite like pissing off the Elders," Spike muttered then, giving in to the inevitable.

Snatching the still burning cigarette out of Spike's mouth, Julia slid from the booth and hooked her jacket on her free hand. Stepping a few feet away towards the exit, she turned back to give them a hard stare as she puffed on the cigarette and set a hand jauntily on her hip. "Well?"

Sharing a look which communicated their situation as 'damned if you do, damned if you don't,' the pair moved as one to follow.