Spike And Faye - Tumblr Posts

Spike followed the sound of a frustrated growl - technically more like an indignant scream muffled somewhat by a pillow - to the closed door of Faye's room on the Bebop.

He considered respecting her privacy for about two seconds and then decided it would be more fun to beg forgiveness than ask permission and rapped a short knock onto the door even as he pressed the panel to slide the door open.

Laying on her back, hair in disarray, panting and nude was one incredibly provocative Faye Valentine. Even having assumed this was the exact scenario going on behind the closed door, Spike was unprepared for the surge of lust that moved through him at the sight before his eyes.

Jade eyes jumped to the doorway and widened when she became immediately aware of his presence. To her credit, Faye remained arrogantly unashamed of her nakedness. She narrowed her eyes at him in a glare, breathing slowly normalizing, and opened her mouth - no doubt to banish him verbally from her room.

Glancing around, Spike spoke up before she could.

"Tch, see this is why you can't rely on technology," He teased, noticing the vibrator - motionless - peeking out of her sheets.

Huffing in irritation, Faye raised an arm to swipe aside some hair that had fallen into her sweaty face.

"Well, if someone would just heal the fuck up a little quicker and get cleared for certain private activities I wouldn't have to rely on something that doesn't hold a damn charge for longer than two minutes!" She snarked, voice rising in anger as her rant went on.

Absently touching his abdomen, still radiating pain along the line of stitches he'd received weeks ago, Spike let out a slow breath. Pretending he wasn't still hurting would get him nowhere. But he had something else in mind.

"I may not be in tip top form at the moment," He allowed, "but there's absolutely nothing wrong with my hands... Or my mouth." He brought both hands up to waggle his long fingers in the air and for good measure ran his tongue over his lips while bobbing his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Breathing in deeply through her nose, biting at her lower lip in a way that drove him wild, Faye finally exhaled in acquiescence.

"You do know I'm not gonna be able to return the favor," She admitted then, her eyes dropping first to his crotch and then rising up to linger on the wound hidden beneath his clothes and bandages.

"I don't mind having you owe me," He told her then with a grin. "Can't leave a lady in a lurch, after all."

Smiling despite herself, Faye sat up slightly to lean on her elbows and spread her knees open even wider in invitation.

"Well, let's see what you can do for me then, hmm?" She purred. "And for crying out loud - shut the damn door!"

The sound of her sobs was louder than the machinery keeping him stabilized.

The sound of her sobs was worse than the pain of his loss - final, irrevocable, irrecoverable... An agony with a thin silver lining, in that it was at last over. His past life, and all ties to it, severed. His freedom assured. His future... full of possibilities.

The sound of her sobs was what had roused him from the comfortable darkness. Brought him back to this world of hurt.

It was not how he wanted to return.

But...

It was who he wanted to return to.

And now, with the dust all settled, he could offer her solace.

More than that.

He could offer her himself - cut loose of everything that had held him back before. Able to give himself fully to whatever came next.

She wasn't humming. She was clearly distraught.

The sound of her sobs made his own heart ache.

He needed it to stop.

But he could tell moving was going to be beyond his abilities for a while. Everything felt bandaged - all the bruises and cuts and gunshot wounds - but bandages merely held him pieced together, they didn't alleviate the damage he'd sustained. It would be a while before he was back on his feet.

The one thing that gave him a touch of hope was the absence of an oxygen mask over his face. He'd obviously been able to breathe on his own for long enough that they'd judged it unnecessary. Which gave him a way to reach out and connect with her.

To soothe her distress.

"Hey..." Spike rasped, cracking his eyes open so he could see her.

The room was dimly lit. A window, shades pulled open to show a cloudy Martian sky, revealed the hour to be quite late. The machinery had suggested that they were in a hospital, and the lackluster decor confirmed this.

Yet there was only one thing in the room that mattered to him.

She was sitting hunched over in a hard plastic chair pulled to his bedside, hands gripping tightly onto the blanket covering his body - twisted in the fabric as though she needed to cling to something real. Her head had been bowed, but she snapped up to lock onto his at the ragged whisper he'd managed.

Her face was beautiful, though ravaged by tears. Her eyes glistened in the weak illumination offered by the room's nightlight and the various machines.

It was rewarding to see the worry in her gaze be replaced by relief.

"Oh! You're awake!" She sniffled, taking one hand from the bedspread to wipe at her nose. "Jet will be so glad to hear."

Ah Jet. It would be good to reassure his partner that he wasn't ditching him for a date with death. But reuniting with Jet was for another time.

This moment was purely for Faye.

"Ya...gotta stop...bawling." Spike managed. He crooked a grin in her direction, both eyes - real and false - sparkling with mischief. "You're not...a...pretty crier, Faye."

Her own eyes grew round with disbelief at his words and her jaw dropped open. One of her hands twitched towards his pillow, but with admirable restraint Faye kept herself from lashing out in retaliation.

Spike hurriedly continued to speak before she could change her mind and decide to smother him instead.

"I'd... rather...hear you... sing."

This time the shock that widened her eyes also brought a delightful blush to her pale cheeks. Exhaling a trembling breath, she chuckled and shook her head.

"You lunkhead."

And then she leaned forward so she could run a hand gently through his hair, smiling at him momentarily before taking a deep breath and opening her mouth.

His skin feels rough where his hands trail along her body. His hands are coarse, dry, fingertips chapped and scratchy. It's a combination of the arid environment of the ship, the years of using those hands for tough hands-on work, and the frequency of his hand washing. All of that has played into the texture currently roaming over her curves.

It's absolutely divine.

She wonders if anyone else ever noticed the quiet urgency with which he would hasten to the bathroom after getting back to the ship. It's not like blood made him squeamish - he'd come back innumerable times dripping and oozing that precious life source, or else covered in splatters of someone else's. He never flinched at getting caught in the spray and never shied from doing dirty work.

But she remembers racing to reach the bathroom first - not the tiny toilet off the hallway, but the actual wash room with the shower stall and the tub.

She wasn't afraid to get filthy either, but getting clean was always her top priority when getting back. And apparently Spike's as well. Washing away the blood, sweat, and tears. Letting the turmoil of the day slough off and dribble down the drain. Relishing that sliver of time when the rest of the world might as well be miles away beyond that locked door.

At some point she'd noticed that his hands were always a brighter red than the rest of his newly clean body. As if he'd worked hard to scour away any and all traces of the damage those hands had dealt. It reminded her of something she'd seen once in her childhood - a play of some sort, perhaps? Out, out damned spot! But her memory is still fragmented and incomplete - or perhaps it's just that some things never stuck very well in the first place.

They haven't shared much about themselves. Or at least, he hasn't - and Jet plays his cards close to the chest as well. She'd inadvertantly revealed plenty about herself, however, when she thought she'd merely been talking to the dog. Afterwards, Spike had certainly overheard the conversation she'd had with the asshole doctor when she'd been trying to knock some answers out of Whitney. And then everyone on the damn ship had learned more when that piece of her past appeared in beta max form.

Still, you couldn't spend months in close quarters without discovering a thing or two about your shipmates. And one thing she has learned through observation is Spike's penchant for scrubbing his hands to rid them of any traces of blood.

He has the hands of a pianist - long fingers that can spread wide - and they splay out against her soft flesh to cover as much ground as they can. Her skin is silky smooth in comparison to his. A side effect of the cryo sleep? A hint at the pampered life she led before the accident? The reward of good genes and her own regular use of lotion?

It doesn't matter. It could be all those factors but she doesn't care to think on it. Not when she can focus on the way his skin scrapes against hers and elicits shivers of appreciation that she can't possibly hide. Sometimes he'll curl his fingers so the nails can score down her back and it makes her mewl in pleasure.

He treats her so delicately sometimes. It makes her feel like a goddess. But she tends to prefer when he's more aggressive. More possessive. Animalistic. It thrills her to know that she can drive him wild and make him move without restraint. To mark her body with his own.

The friction between them is so intense she almost can't stand it.

It makes her feel alive. Makes her feel powerful.

She can rub her hands all over his body without ever leaving a scratch - unless she uses her nails, which she sometimes does. But she's also learned that he prefers her mouth blazing a path along his torso to all the places he usually hides inside that blue suit. Sucking and nibbling, licking and biting - she uses her mouth for far more pleasurable pursuits than catty responses or scornful remarks.

He tries so hard to be clean. Which makes her all the more satisfied when she succeeds in making him sweat. Mussing his already wild hair and leaving smears of lipstick to mark the places she's been. His hands, so delightfully like sandpaper when they roughen up her back, become moist in no time from the sheen of perspiration that soon gleams upon them both, and - more intimately - from the flood of pleasure those long fingers coax from the crux of her body.

The way he tantalizes her senses always leaves her weak.

But it's no matter, because she has the same effect on him.

She knows this because he's told her.

In a ragged voice, panting in her ear as his tongue circles along the outer curve and before he tugs the lobe into his mouth. He's told her how the silky feel of her hair vies with the silky smooth texture of her skin. Has told her how she's simultaneously the smoothest and softest and sharpest thing in his world. How, despite the ease with which she glides upon his body, he can never quite believe it's true. That something so intense and consuming can come to them so simply.

That the passion they share can bring him focus while being so sinfully distracting.

He confides, in the heat of the moment, how she is all contrasts that manage to fit and flow together seamlessly. She is past and present and future fused. And he begs her to grip him tight. To lock her legs around his hips. To trap him within her welcoming warmth. To hold fast to his battle scarred hands with her own.

She reminds him, wordlessly yet speaking volumes with their bodies crashing together and with her gaspingmoaningwhimpering breath mingling with his, that he is alive.

His touch on her keeps her buoyed in reality. In the here and now and YES, there - please, more! - don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop.

And tonight, like so many other nights of late, she loses herself utterly in the arms of this once-broken man. She pieces him back together, offering him the promise of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Her smooth skin lit on fire by his rough hands, his heart beating reassuringly strong against her own heaving breast.

No Hero

A sultry voice drifted from the entryway of the tavern as Spike made his way in past a couple as they held open the door to leave. Slow and sensual, the voice demanded answers - not from the audience but from life itself. Gradually, the woman's inquisition rose from queries into a full throated cry of her need.

Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

It wasn't a song Spike was familiar with but that wasn't saying much. He tended more towards blues, jazz, and instrumentals. Naturally Faye would gravitate towards powerful female ballads. Well, he couldn't fault her for it - she certainly had the vocal cords to handle the passion of the lyrics she chose.

The people who frequented the karaoke bar all thought she was a rising star. A soulful beauty with a keen brilliance that kept her churning out new songs.

Of course, Spike knew she was just rehashing music from before the Gate Accident - particularly tunes she was fairly sure had been lost since then. Ed was pretty good about scouring the interwebs for anything Faye could recall in case it had been recovered, but there was plenty that had been destroyed in those tumultuous days that only existed now thanks to Faye's recently returned memories.

She could be on her way to the top, in fact. No one knew except the Bebop crew about her personal knowledge of the actual original song writers and singers. And even then, music was often copied or remixed or bought out from the originators or whoever held ownership of the notes.

But Faye didn't bother. Maybe it was due to her own scruples. Maybe she secretly didn't want a life of fortune and fame despite bemoaning her lack thereof to her shipmates endlessly. Whatever the reason, Faye kept her singing as merely a side gig and not even a paid one at that. She seemed to relish simply showing up at a bar and wowing all the patrons.

Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy... Somewhere just beyond my reach...                        There's someone reaching back for me!

Spike purposefully kept his back to the stage as he made his way to the bar, signalling for the bartender as he went. He didn't need to look to know Faye was there, reaching imploringly towards a rapt crowd, hope shining in her glimmering green eyes.

He'd been to this establishment before and recognized the buxom blond who was currently helping another lush further down the way. She looked like an airhead but she made a mean martini (Faye's favorite fancy drink) and knew that Spike liked two fingers of whiskey, neat. She also knew that he didn't care to make conversation, which was frankly a relief given how some bartenders were nosy bodies just itching to offer unasked for advice.

After she left the drink, Spike found himself staring at the wood grain of the bar. Idly he traced his pointer finger around a wet circular smear left by some previous glass of the night. What manner of person ordered a drink with ice? Something doomed to perspire onto whatever surface it was placed.

It was Callisto, after all. Sure, the moon had begun to see an influx of the female persuasion at long last, but the temperatures remained bitterly cold all year. Most folks opted for warm drinks or something served at room temp. It was a trifling thing to fixate on, but Spike liked to consider oddities and the why of them.

Up where the mountains meet the heaven above...             Out where the lightning splits the sea...                  I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me...

The allure was too much to resist. Her voice was like a siren call no matter how he tried - however feebly - to distract himself. But he was strong enough to avoid turning on his stool. He could be discreet. He could be coy. The view of Faye, clad in a ridiculous satin evening gown that clung to her curves, with a split in the bodice that plunged recklessly between her breasts to nearly her navel... That view was just as wonderful seen in the reflection of the glass behind the wall of bottles as it would have been had he stared right at her.

There was no need to give her the power here. No need to display his weakness for her charm. Indifference had been a source of strength for him since he could recall. It had been the one thing to aid him in keeping her at bay during the first months of their cohabitation on the Bebop. Later, after his triumphant return (broken and bruised and bloodied, but what's new)... It had been his indifference that made her boil.

It was a petty victory but keeping his cool when she got fired up was still something to savor. Torturing himself (and her, apparently) was childish and pointless and for some reason was still his go-to response when emotions threatened to engulf him.

Her eyes would snap fire. Her words would carve ice. More than once he'd seen her hands tremble as she fought to keep from slapping or slugging him. Yet no matter how irate he made her, he could tell she saw through his act.

It was in the curl of her lip. In the way her gaze would skitter away. In the soft sigh she'd let slip before throwing her hands in the air and stalking away.

She knew his nonsense and she liked to play the game.

Lost in reminiscence of the woman on the stage, he nearly missed when the music changed and the atmosphere of the tavern shifted to correspond to the upbeat tempo of the next karaoke performer's choice. Unlike Faye, who sang from pure memory and with only the fumbling accompaniment of a band unused to her requests, the other acts would all be reciting off a projection of lyrics upon the wall.

She did love to outshine any competition.

Slender fingers tapped the bar in a quick double beat right next to the slowly evaporating water ring. In no time at all the blond deposited a dry martini next to Spike's drink. He kept his gaze on the bottles across the bar, eyeing her in the reflection as she raked her own gaze over his body from top to toe and back again.

Her gaze on him stoked the fire inside.

Finally swinging his eyes to her form, Spike smoothly presented a lighter from his pocket to spark to life the cigarette she'd pulled from a slim metal case that she kept strapped to her thigh with a garter belt.

Faye stared dead into his eyes, neither of them blinking, as she inhaled deeply and then exhaled a beat later, extinguishing the flame and enveloping them both in a plume of smoke.

"Why hello stranger," She murmured in greeting. Like always, Faye emanated life. There was something so refreshing about her. So intoxicating.

"I should warn you," His voice was low, nearly a whisper. Intimate in ways he shouldn't be with her. But, like always, he couldn't help himself. "I'm no hero, Faye."

Her laughter made his heart soar, though it was clearly at his expense. Or, since he wasn't offended at her reaction in the least, perhaps she wasn't so much laughing at him as laughing with him.

"Oh Spike," Faye took another drag of the cigarette and blew a few smoke rings in his direction. "A lady like myself has no need for a hero. Sometimes a song is just a song. Anyway..." She dragged a finger over his lower lip until he opened his mouth and she placed the cigarette there for him to puff on, freeing up both her hands to trail down past his lapels, teasing over his ribs, to splay her palms flat against his stomach over the worst of his scars.

"Anyway," She said again, giving him a lascivious smirk, "You're the one in need of rescue, after all..."

Royal Flush

It was harder to cheat at poker than dice but mainly because she had no sleeves to keep cards hidden up. No wonder Spike had insisted on cards. Still, Faye had spent a good portion of time learning how to bluff and how to read her opponent, so she was fairly confident in her ability to beat Spike.

He had a tell, after all, and that was all she needed.

Then again, Spike was far too clever for his own good. She didn't put it past him to be feigning a tell just to get her to lower her guard in false confidence.

They'd been playing for hours already while the ship floated dead in space. It wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time that they ran out of fuel and had to drift along until they reached a starbase or a planetary outpost. This time they at least had a pantry full of food. Ramen cups, but food nonetheless.

Jet had folded in a previous round and subsequently bailed entirely. Ed had been cast out of the game for repeatedly trying to play according to different rules. Ein hadn't been included in the first place even though Ed had insisted on his skills. Now it was down to just Spike and Faye.

They were playing heads up poker which was a more fast paced and aggressive form of the game. Naturally this suited both Spike and Faye just fine. They'd decided to play for cigarettes originally since it was the one commodity both had in spades. Shortly after Ed passed out, Spike had suggested strip poker but Faye had shot that down since she had so much less to lose.

Though his casual suggestion had certainly put some wild ideas in Faye's head. Which was probably all part of his plot to throw her off. He seemed too chill about her initial outraged reaction and hadn't even bothered to push for it. Instead he'd acquiesced to her rebuttle of loser washing the winner's zip craft.

He had his chin resting in his left hand and a smirk on his face as he fanned his cards lazily. He looked like the cat who got the cream. There was nothing left to do but lay down her own cards but Spike's expression and posture didn't faze her in the least. She knew hers was a winning hand. And she hadn't even needed to cheat!

"Four of a kind, read 'em and weep!" Faye called out, laying her hand down.

"Mm, such a shame." Spike mused, putting his own cards face down on the table.

Glee spread across Faye's face as she greedily gathered up the loose smokes on the coffee table.

"Shame indeed! My craft got covered in bird crap on that last mission," She told him without a hint of compassion.

"No no no, Faye... A shame for you!" Spike reached out and slowly flipped each of his cards over to reveal... "Royal Flush."

"What!" Faye squawked. "But you didn't even slow blink!"

He snorted. "You thought I had a tell? Aww, poor Faye-Faye!" A grin stretched across his face. "Gotta say I'm looking forward to our next dock. Seeing you in a swim suit getting suds all over my... cockpit..."

Faye's cheeks burned red. "Why you dirty-"

"Well, it's my ship that's dirty but..."

"Ugh. I'm done playing." Faye grumped. She let the cigarettes spill back onto the coffee table and then snatched one up as an afterthought. "I'm bumming one of these."

Spike blinked at her slowly. "I'll spot you another... If you need one after a round in my quarters."

"Ohh you think I'm gonna play you again?" Faye purred at him. "I got news for you, buddy. I don't play games in bed." She stood up then and stuck a hand down to take his and yank him to his feet. "But I'm ready for a reeeeeal good workout. If you think you can make me sweat..."

Sweet Dreams

"Nighty night, sleep tight, hope you have the sweetest dreams tonight," Faye half-spoke, half-sang to the drowsy infant Spike was lying down in a crib that had been fashioned from an old wooden wagon Jet had had in his childhood.

Spike looked up from his task to grin wryly at Faye.

"You know he'll be up in two hours, max." He reminded her teasingly. His expression changed to one of mild alarm as he took in the tears tracking down Faye's cheeks.

Glancing worriedly at the baby, who by now had completely fallen asleep wrapped snugly in a swaddle cloth, Spike stepped away from the crib to bring his hands up to cradle Faye's damp cheeks.

"Faye? What's wrong?"

He gazed steadily into her eyes as Faye smiled tremulously.

"These fucking hormones are no joke," She huffed with a sniffle. "I just... everything about this seems like a dream, y'know? I never wanna wake up and have it end."

Spike chuckled. "The dozen shitty diapers today didn't make it all seem real?" But he stepped closer, tilting his face down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I know what you mean." He let his arms drop from her face to wrap around her so they could stand with no space between them.

"I thought I lived life in a dream once," He continued. "Love and loss had cut me adrift from reality. And then I kept pushing myself beyond my limits trying to see if I was even alive. But it wasn't until I came back to the ship...came back to you...that I knew I was breathing. I knew I was in the real world, even though having you in my life was so unreal."

"Oh, Spike..." Faye breathed. She stood on her tiptoes to pepper kisses across his lips.

"Face it, Faye. Neither of us has slept in weeks. I can't remember the last time either of us even showered. I've worn spit up as a tie for hours now and you haven't worn a top since he was born because your tits are too leaky. As wild as this," He gave a nod towards the crib and a peck of a kiss to her lips before going on, "as wild as all this is... It's real. You know how I know?"

"Tell me," She implored, giving him a shy half smile.

"Because it's so far beyond anything I ever dreamt of. My sweetest dreams could never have been as incredible as this."

"Oh God, I wish I could fuck you right now," Faye moaned, pushing against him to burrow her face in his chest. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of sour milk that was indeed caked on his shirt.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a handjob," Spike replied, waggling his eyebrows though she couldn't see.

The unmistakable sound of fussing came from behind them as the baby began to wake up.

Chuckling ruefully, Faye pulled out of Spike's embrace to approach the crib.

"Sorry, cowboy... That'll have to be in your dreams!"

Ninth Life

"Cats only have nine lives, you know." The voice that chided him was familiar. Warm and teasing, tones of affection rolling from her tongue to greet his ears (which seemed like the only parts of him not in pain).

She must have overheard the story he told Jet after all. Well, good. He'd meant for her to hear it, hadn't he? It was hard to remember all the details of the day he left, especially right now, as cushioned in pain killers as he was.

Yes. He'd hoped she would understand that a dead woman could not live happily for many years to eventually die of old age. There was no white cat aside from Faye, who had held such reservations about any possibility of attraction on his part after the way he'd acted on Callisto.

That had brought a moment of reckoning to him. It had opened his eyes to the truth of Julia's character and to the ignorance he'd nurtured without realization. But it hadn't been the end of one of his many lives.

Not like his final bout with Vicious.

And then...

Had his assault from Vincent taken one? What about the brutal battle with Mad Pierrot? Certainly the descent from the cathedral - memories flooding his mind as he fell - counted as a death.

Prior to that, there was his Syndicate suicide - intentionally designed death to free him from that trapped life. Did the time before he fell in with Jet count as a brief life?

And, before the Syndicate, he'd lived on the streets. Wild and reckless. So the man he was in the Red Dragons had been a life apart from that of the untamed youth with no allegiances. And, even more faint - did it even count if he could not recall more than a trace of his parents - there had been the life he had before the streets.

How many lives had he lived? How many chances had he had?

Was this, at last, the ninth life? The one to treasure and savor before it left him truly dead at the end of it all?

Whether it was or not, he had no desire to squander it. No intention of wasting whatever opportunity arose. Even the agony of his healing wounds carried a feel of relief that he was even still here - somehow back on the Bebop.

He could smell an intoxicating aroma of foodstuffs wafting from the kitchen where Jet was no doubt hard at work. And Faye was nearby, humming quietly after her remark.

His eyes were covered by gauze and bandages so he couldn't actually see her. Thankfully his mouth was not.

"Did you rescue me?" He asked then, voice rough from disuse from however many days he'd spent unconscious. "Did you bring me back?"

"Well." She must have leaned closer. He could feel a shift in the air and sensed her presence nearer. "Turns out you were alive after all, and I didn't think you wanted to be stuck in a hospital racking up medical debt. That shit's hard to shake loose. So - did I steal you from the hospital? Yes. We can count that as a rescue if it means you owe me one."

Typical Faye. But oh, how grateful he was.

"I'm not a cat." He said then. "There's only one life we get to live."

"Yeah," Faye agreed quietly. He could practically hear the smile in her words. "They say if you do it right you only need one."

"Will you stay?" It seemed silly to even ask considering she was still there in the first place. "Will you share it with me?"

"Hmm," She made a thoughtful sound and he felt her hovering over him, and then easing a hand into his thick tangle of hair. "You're a pretty big gamble... But... What the hell, hey? I think the payout will be worth the trouble you cause."

"I'm tired of this argument." Faye declared abruptly, sitting forward on the couch and purposefully scattering the cards on the table so most fell on the floor. Neither of the men had even been paying that much attention to the game, which was usually fine by Faye because it would be all that much easier to take 'em for everything they had, but she was well and truly exhausted by their petty bickering.

It always happened like this.

Someone would fuck the bounty up. Or they'd get the asshole but there'd be an issue with getting paid. Or they'd get paid but then decide to celebrate instead of using their newly earned moolah more wisely.

Drinks would flow. Good natured ribbing would commence. Cigarettes would be shared between the three of them. A game - usually cards, since Spike didn't trust playing dice with Faye and her anklet - would be suggested to while away the hours.

And inevitably the guys would end up arguing over dick size. Length, girth, growers versus show-ers... Blah blah blah. She'd seen enough of both of them to adequately judge how their member held up against the rest of their individual physiques, though she'd not bothered to explain her opinion and reasoning to them. Not that they'd asked in the first place.

"Get the fuck up, both of you. There's only one way to solve this and that's with a performance based evaluation. So c'mon, let's get this settled once and for all." Without waiting for a response she strode away towards the bedrooms - Jet's was her intended destination as it was the most spacious and was most likely to have the comfiest bed.

She turned her exit into a shameless strip tease as she went, and grinned to herself when she heard the unmistakable sound of two inebriated men tripping over themselves to follow.

Much later, after several vigorous rounds of putting both men to the test, Faye laid back against the pillows and tucked her feet into the tangle of silk sheets at the foot of the bed. Of course Jet had silk sheets.

She lazily turned towards where Jet lay next to her as he offered her a cigarette. Smiling indulgently at him, she let him put it in her mouth and then swung her face over to Spike, who lay on her other side and had a lighter flame dancing in wait to spark her cigarette to life.

Faye smoked slowly, enjoying the way they kept eyeing her inquisitively. Teasing the men was one of the things that gave her joy.

"Well?!" Jet demanded at last.

"Yeah, what's the verdict, Faye? Whose the winner here?" Spike threw in immediately, clearly having only enough patience to let someone else break first.

Exhaling with relish, Faye briefly fluttered her eyes closed. She stretched, feeling the delightful soreness and exhaustion of a night of sinful ravishment.

"Isn't it obvious, boys?" She fairly purred, eyes opening just a fraction to gauge their reactions. "There's only one winner here...and that's me!"

The water ran cold.

Time became meaningless as shivers overtook her body.

Shivers became convulsions.

There was a sound echoing in the room, echoing in her ears.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Her awareness dwindled to a pinprick as the pounding on the door turned into a voice shouting her name.

There was only the water, pouring in icy rivulets down over her scalp, over her face, over her nude form. Her teeth chattered. Her legs dropped her painfully onto her ass in the inches of standing water in the tub.

The drain was clogged again. It had been merely annoying when it was warm water swirling around her toes. But now the water pooled in the tub - and still accumulating - was chilling her exposed skin and so she continued to quake.

Hardly the first time this had happened.

Jet did his best to keep the ship in working order but keeping the hot water heater pumping out tolerable temps was pretty low on his list of priorities. Adequate air circulation, shields to prevent space debris from destroying the hull, maintaining the engines so they could venture from planet to asteroid to moon to wherever... obviously these came first.

Faye would never get used to this.

Waking up in a tank as it drained of fluids. Hazy recollection of coming to consciousness while still trapped in a frigid liquid tube. These were her earliest concrete memories and they were debilitating.

How many times had she splashed into a stream or river or - uck - sewer while running from the mob or the collectors or whoever? How many times had she gotten caught in the cold in a cheap hotel bathroom when the hot water ran out? How many times had she frozen up in a sudden deluge from the clouds?

There'd never been witnesses to her plight. Not that she'd noticed at least. Here on the Bebop it was no different. They passed in and out of each other's orbits as casually and indifferently as satellites circling the earth.

Water continued to pour into the tub from the showerhead as she rolled to her side and slipped numbly into a fetal position within the porcelain confines. The water level was too deep already though - her mouth and nose dipped sideways under the water as her head came to rest on her right temple on the bottom of the tub.

It was so cold. Could it get any colder? Would she just freeze here like she had frozen before? Water was getting into her mouth because her teeth hadn't stopped chattering. Was that an effect of her body striving to retain warmth? Were her shivers the struggle of a body trying to generate energy to survive?

Without warning strong hands grabbed hold of her left arm still out of the water. She was yanked suddenly upright, up and out of the tub entirely, sprawling in a shaky wet pile atop a familiar blue suit and yellow shirt.

That was all she had time to notice before her mouth opened fully in an alternating series of coughs and retching. Had she been choking on the water in the tub? It was so hard to remember anything other than the bone-chilling temperature as the water tumbled over her and sent her mind sloshing back and forth between the past and present.

With bleary eyes and no control over her own movements - would she ever stop shaking? - Faye observed as if from a distance as Spike pushed her off his own body so he could scramble into a sitting position and drape her over his lap. His left arm slung beneath her tits, holding her facedown as water dribbling from blue lips, Spike whacked his right hand repeatedly against her bare back.

After some time - seconds? Minutes? Longer? - she began to make mewling noises of discomfort. It was the strangest out of body experience she could remember. Spike must have decided she'd spit up as much water as she was going to because he stopped smacking her and instead groped blindly for a towel. Finding the one she'd left in a pile on the floor when she climbed into the shower, he wrapped it awkwardly around her upper body and began rubbing circles against the cotton in an attempt to circulate heat through her core.

"Fuck, Faye," He muttered. She wasn't sure if he was actually addressing her or talking to himself. She wasn't prepared to respond. Her legs were beginning to tingle as blood moved through them and life returned painfully to her limbs. There was water in her ears that kept her from being able to really hear anything Spike may have been saying but his arm under her chest remained in place, heat exuding through his sleeve to her rib cage, and his other hand was achieving some success at bringing warmth to her back as well.

With a shuddering gasp she turned in his odd embrace, burying her face in his sodden shirt. Automatically he adjusted his hold on her so his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn't sure how long he let her lay slumped there against him, snot and saliva and bathwater drenching his clothes indiscriminately. As her ears cleared of water she became aware of him moving and, faint yet becoming more clear, the sound of his voice as he spoke to her.

"This isn't working."

With impressive strength he surged to his feet, dragging her along with until she was standing barefoot beside him. Huddling against his body heat, she shivered violently. Cursing under his breath, Spike wrapped an arm around her midriff and began to walk her unsteadily from the bathroom.

The stairs were a hassle but there weren't many leading up to the main living area, yet he didn't bring her to the couch. Shuffling away from the den - vacant of their shipmates - he led her down the hallway to the bedrooms.

Faye was still dazed, only partially paying attention to the rambling coming from the lanky man at her side. Something about Jet doing laundry. Something about Ed giving Ein a bath - or rather, trying and failing to do so. No wonder the bathroom had been in such a disarray when she had gone in for her shower. She blinked, befuddled, as they passed the first bedroom - Jet's - while Spike admitted to banging on the door in an attempt to warn her about the likelihood of the hot water being drained.

"Could've shot you," She mumbled as they reached the next room - his - and Spike shouldered the door open to tug her in with him.

His grip on her didn't exactly lessen but she could almost feel a sigh of relief go through him after she spoke.

"You haven't brought your Glock into the shower in months, Faye."

Her thoughts were scattered but she tried her best to hang onto one at least.

"Why... were you trying to warn me...about the water?" She asked as they arrived at the bed and Spike half-pushed, half-laid her onto the mattress. A small part of her mind was momentarily puzzled by the presence of a clean, dry sheet atop the mattress. For some reason Spike had always seemed to her as the type to just doze off under a blanket, no sheet necessary. Discovering otherwise gave him a unexpected layer of domesticity.

He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and yanked it over her before taking back the towel he'd wrapped around her earlier. Then he began to undress, explaining as he discarded damp items.

"You tremble when you're cold." His tone was calm, soothing. "You got weird back on Earth when we got caught in that downpour while chasing that last bounty there. Thought I was gonna have to carry you both to the jail when you just stood there getting soaked." His voice was muffled briefly as he tugged his button down shirt over his head. She wondered why he didn't bother undoing the buttons instead but chalked it up as an idiosyncrasy of the man she just hadn't been aware of. He kept talking despite her momentary distraction. "You always leave the shower room steamed up like you shower in the hottest water possible. Not sure how you don't scald that delicate skin to be honest."

And then he was climbing into the bed with her, drawing her into his arms again. He pressed as much of his body against her as possible, tangling their legs together.

Exhaustion and confusion fought one another in her head, her heart, and her body. The heat he radiated was impressive. She could feel herself thawing within his embrace. She opened her mouth - to do what? She wasn't sure what to say or ask or think or feel. He must have sensed her need for some type of response despite her lack of query.

"You were in that ice water for a while, Faye. You're lucky you aren't hypothermic. Jet's probably gonna give me a hard time about busting that lock but I figure he'd rather fix that than dispose of a water bloated corpse."

Faye shuddered and not from the cold that time. "Jeez, Spike,"

He remained silent for a moment and then began stroking his left hand up and down her back.

"You freaked me out." He said then. "Didn't peg you as the lay down and die type."

She huffed, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against his collar bone. She could feel the rhythmic thump-thump of his heart beating.

"Wasn't my intent." Sighing, she felt herself sinking towards slumber. "You're right. Don't do cold well. Not wet cold anyway. Cryo nightmares."

She felt as he took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. His hand continued to rub along her back.

"Well. Gonna have to sort that out eventually. Hot water's too janky on this ship for you to just... I mean if Ed... " He sighed. "Whatever. You're fine now. Warm up, rest. We'll tackle your issue later."

The idea of someone knowing this weakness of hers was uncomfortable, but she wasn't exactly surprised Spike had taken note - although she didn't remember the bounty hunt in the rain. The depth of his concern was startling though. How much had she unintentionally given away since boarding the ship? How many little things had he slotted away in his memory to turn over and over until he unlocked the mystery of this or that or some other thing?

At the same time, it was... comforting. Not just this - the sharing of body heat, the rescue from accidental drowning - but having someone out there pay attention to the ins and outs of you as a person. Having someone aware of her insecurities - loathe as she was to admit to any.

Ultimately, this skewed the balance between them. She owed him one now. On top of that, he now knew a truth about her she'd endeavored to keep hidden. She wasn't sure how to rectify this...how to put things back on an even keel. She wasn't sure of anything at all... But cradled in his arms, shielded from the cool air of the ship and from the world at large, she felt safe enough to drop into a troubled yet restorative sleep.

Figuring things out from here could wait.

"Fuck!"

Spike scrambled to his feet and raced down the alley towards the crashed vehicle. That wasn't supposed to have happened. He'd shot out the tires but it shouldn't have flipped the car onto its side like that. The driver must have jerked the wheel for some reason but Spike knew he hadn't hit the driver.

The more pressing concern was the passenger in the car.

A botched bounty had resulted in Spike being smashed over the head with a bottle and while he was disoriented Faye had managed to catch up and jump into the car before the bounty could speed away.

Even with blood dripping into his eye, he knew he'd only hit the tires when he fired at the vehicle as it sped away. Had Faye incapacitated him?

The world lurched around him as he half-ran, half-staggered to the wreckage. Damn, that waitress had really walloped him with that bottle. They hadn't expect the bounty to have friends on the bar staff but the tawdry woman had reacted with alacrity when they'd pulled their guns on Tyler the Terror.

He jumped onto the side of the car, grateful momentarily for the fact that it had come to rest on the driver's side, and ripped the door open.

Faye was sprawled in an uncomfortable looking position atop the unconscious - or worse - driver. There was a lot of blood on the driver's window and splattered on Faye but none of it seemed at first glance to be from her. Groaning and pressing a hand briefly to her right temple, Faye began to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs before pausing with a hiss of pain.

"You hurt?" Spike asked, reaching in to help her.

Faye jolted at his voice and turned to look as if only now noticing his presence as he leaned down into the front seat. Sighing, Faye grabbed her gun from amidst the debris on the floor by the pedals and tucked it behind her back before giving him her right hand to grip onto.

"Must've smashed my hip on the shifter. Left arm feels a little funky too." She gave the bounty a kick as Spike helped heave her up and out of the vehicle. "Why this asshole tried to make a getaway in a stolen vehicle is beyond me. I was gonna shoot a hand maybe, something non-lethal to get him to pull over. He yells at me that he can't fucking drive! Never learned! Let go of the wheel to try and wrestle me for my gun - as if the car was gonna magically stop all on its own!"

"Well," Spike shrugged. "It kind of did by crashing."

After an awkward dismount, with Spike still dazed and Faye nursing her tender points, they moved away from the wreck to post up on the curb. Lighting a pair of cigarettes, Spike handed one off to Faye and they puffed in silence for a bit.

"Refresh my memory. Tyler the Terrible Driver. Was he wanted dead or alive?" Faye asked, exhaling a series of smoke rings as she carefully rotated her left shoulder and flexed her left hand.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

"Ughhhh," Faye moaned, tilting back to rest on her elbows on the pavement. It was the wrong move and she immediately rolled onto her left side as her left elbow protested her weight.

Spike chuckled. "You were literally just going through the motions to find what you hurt."

Facedown on the pavement, Faye growled. "I'm about to find out what I can hurt on you," She threatened.

Spike ignored her offer as he butted out his cigarette and got to his feet to bend over her and, pushing on her right shoulder, rolled her back over onto her butt. Faye scowled at him even as she accepted his hand then to get up without having to use her left arm.

"Well hell. Wanna go back to that bar? Bet that waitress friend of Tyler's has a bounty on her." Spike suggested as the sound of sirens became audible in the distance.

"Bet you a drink she doesn't." Faye replied. "Hmm. The Terror was only one of a couple names that showed up on the bounty list. I think you're wrong about the girl but I'd bet she knows who some of the others are in that crew."

"All right, you're on. Let's get outta here before the cops try to pin this damage on us." Spike grinned at her. "I'm thirsty and I still wanna knock some heads. Besides, I don't wanna go back to the ship empty-handed."

Faye made a noise of agreement. "Fridge's been empty for days. At least the bar has peanuts - I saw a dish on the counter earlier."

"Jet doesn't know what he's missing. 'Course this is Ganymede, he probably brought Ed to some old buddy's house for an actual meal."

Scrunching her nose, Faye shook her head in dismissal. "Pass on that. Listening to a couple old timers reminisce about the good old days they shared? Poor Ed if that's the case, how dull."

"Yeah, car accidents are a much more exciting way to spend the day."

Faye laughed. "You're being sarcastic but damn if that isn't the truth!"

The roar of the waterfall drowned out any other sound in the harbor where the torrential spill of water flowed out and calmed once it reached a moderate distance from the frothy base of the 200ft falls.

It was an impressive sight, especially to someone born on Mars where there weren't any rivers let alone any waterfalls. Any other time and Spike would probably be guilty of gazing awestruck at the display of raw elemental power.

Actually, he was supposed to be watching as he waited for word from Jet about Ed's upcoming descent via barrel over the falls.

The girl was addicted to adrenaline, just like Spike himself. He couldn't fault her - hell, he typically encouraged her - but this was one death defying stunt he had no interest in attempting personally.

Of course, Jet and Doohan had rigged up Ed's life pod (a barrel may have been an exaggeration) so the chances of her genuinely coming to any harm were significantly reduced. Reduced but not eliminated.

At any rate, he was currently distracted by the vision approaching the Bebop from down the long dock at which they were moored.

Moving at a seductive sway she probably wasn't even aware of - either because by now it was an unconscious and automatic style of stride on her part, or because he couldn't help but view it in an alluring fashion - Faye was making her way back to the ship with two large grocery bags in either arm and a bulging purse along her right hip.

She was wearing a dark mustard yellow mid length dress that ended just above the knee in the front but slightly longer in the back, with a plunging neckline. Spike's gaze had been fastened to the hemline of the skirt, hypnotized by the way it pressed against her thighs with every gust of wind and then swirled forward as she progressed.

Spike spared a moment to be thankful for the sheer length of the dock, while also briefly regretting his inability to meet her halfway and help with the load. Well, technically he could go and offer his aid...

Standing up from the fold out camp chair he'd been occupying, carefully adjusting the weight in his arms, Spike grinned down at the groggy baby who was slowly waking up and peering about blearily. He started fussy noises, gearing up for what promised to be a robust meltdown, when Spike shifted the infant and pointed out Faye's figure as she came nearer and as Spike began to walk her way.

From everything DB had told them, and from the random bits of knowledge Ed had been passing on from various Internet sources, there was simply no way the 10 week old baby could see Faye from that far away even with the way both parties were closing the distance between them. Yet somehow Lupin must have recognized her, or sensed her perhaps, because the wail he'd been working up to became a joyous gurgle one could almost call a giggle.

"Yeah, bud - she's pretty fantastic. And we're lucky enough to be the ones she's walking to." He gave the baby a little squeeze of affection as he spoke, then hustled over to Faye to trade her for the bags she carried. Each one easily weighed more than Lupin by several pounds, and he eyed her purse up as well.

Faye, taking the baby and showering his face with kisses before cradling him in her arms and shoving aside part of her dress to free a breast which the baby immediately latched onto, still managed to give Spike a cool look in response to his unasked question.

"This place caters to the top tier of rich bitches," She complained loudly. "Not my fault everything is exorbitantly expensive here, but hell if I'm gonna pay for all the stuff I need. Those vitamins to promote breast milk cost more than refilling the RedTail!" She lifted her nose in the air as she cast a glare at the vessels docked around them.

It was luxury yachts and elite cruise lines at every turn, with the notable exception of the Bebop itself. Call him crazy but that rusty derelict - oh, not in truth for Jet went to great lengths to keep the ship in prime condition, but in comparison with the company she currently kept - had a charm that none of the others could hope to.

"Where are the others anyway? I thought Jet wanted to blow this joint once I got back." She had to shout just to be heard clearly over the sound of the waterfall.

"Well... You're not gonna like it but... Ed convinced Jet and Doohan to set her up with a mini sub and she's gonna go over the falls."

Faye stopped dead and stared in horror at the monstrosity that towered over the little bay. Spike had walked a few steps further towards the ship before noticing her absence from his side.

"What."

Spike grinned disarmingly at her. ""Don't worry, babe. They wouldn't let her do anything suicidal. Jet even went back through to add the airbags she initially refused."

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Faye steeled herself before looking at the waterfall again and falling into step with Spike once more.

"I don't have to watch, do I?"

Spike shrugged. "Honestly I'd be surprised if we could see her in the act at all. So no, you don't gotta look."

Faye shook her head slightly. "No, I'll watch. If she's gonna do the damn thing we might as well be witnesses or what's even the point."

"If you ask her... It's because it's there."

Written in response to a request & also (almost as an afterthought but it just fell into place so nicely) as a writing challenge using as three word prompt of 1) Faye 2) dry martini 3) red ☺️

***

Her perfume smelled like roses.

He remembered that from their first meeting. In an overcrowded casino that reeked of spilt booze, sweat, air-conditioning, and money - cutting through all the standard human scents and manufactured ones, like a breath of fresh air. Roses.

He'd always been a sucker for that aroma. Julia had found it amusing. She'd been pleased enough with the bouquet when he presented it to her, but she'd later admitted that it wasn't her favorite scent. Marigolds. Lovely enough but the scent was acrid. Reminded him of fires. But she thought his affinity for roses was endearing. Truth be told, sometimes he felt like a child when he'd offer her a red bloom - like a little boy playing at big emotions and being condescendingly coddled as a way of keeping him happy.

It had been the meaning behind the flowers that he was trying to convey to her, something she had to understand. Love, passion, romance and desire. All things that she had ultimately been indifferent to.

Letting the last bouquet drop carelessly to the concrete, letting his heart wash away down the street with the petals that fell from the bud, he gave up on love. On the silliness of romance. On the instability of desire. On the pursuit of a passion that gave life meaning.

Then, unexpectedly, the sweet smell wafted softly back into his life.

She'd been coy and charming at first, saucy and sassy afterwards, and then she made off with the money and he felt his heart tug as if to chase after her. It had been exciting, amusing, and overall refreshing to have her grace his life with her exuberant presence.

And then suddenly she was back again - all the money gone, along with her fuel, and stranded in space until they'd decided to pick her up. Well, Jet had suggested bringing her in for the bounty she had on her head and Spike had gone along with that plan just for a chance to verbally spar with her again.

Then she'd gone and flipped their tentative plan on its head. She'd put her butt on the line, risked her own life - for the reward? Maybe. Spike didn't think so though. Whatever her motive, it swayed Jet enough to let her stay instead of collecting woolongs by turning her in.

Delightfully, disturbingly, his world was now awash in the soft, heady aroma of roses. Whether it was her shampoo, her conditioner, her lotion, her perfume… all were rose scented. It should have been cloying, overpowering, enough to gag a man.

He couldn't get enough.

So he let her take first showers. He took advantage of opportunities to sit next to her on the couch. He'd stand downwind of her when they were on the deck of the ship.

And then, after he'd laid all his ghosts to rest, he decided to take it all a step further.

It started with a yellow rose that he left in the cockpit of her zipcraft, along with a pack of her preferred brand of smokes. She came in wielding it like a sword and demanded to know why it had been left there.

"Figured by now we were friends," He'd replied honestly with a shrug. It was enough to placate her, and he watched as she buried her nose in the bloom to inhale deeply before wandering off to her room without another word on the matter.

Then, a few weeks later, he left an orange rose on the birthday gift he'd gotten her - one of the trashy paperback novels she secretly adored. This one garnered no verbal response, but she did blush deeply before sneaking off to her room with the book in hand and the rose held to her nose.

After that he couldn't wait any longer. He left a purple rose in front of her door the very next day and then he went to the bridge and bribed Jet to take Ed to the museums in town. Fortunately, they were in Alba City and there were plenty of those - history museums, aircraft museums, museums of science and space. With luck they'd be gone the better part of the day.

Working quickly, Spike set a trail of petals leading up the stairs to the bridge and then scattered more in a path to the windows at the front of the command room. He arranged a bouquet of seven roses in the middle of a square fold out table upon which he'd placed several take out containers, a pair of plates, and their drinks. A dry martini for her, garnished with a lemon twist, and a whiskey on the rocks for him.

Finally, to really set the mood, he fiddled with the Bebop's radio until he found a station playing jazz. The soothing notes of Ahmad Jamal's 'Soul Girl' filled the air just before the sound of Faye's heels rang out as she ascended the stairway.

"You know, a person could read a lot into all this," Faye called out as she sashayed into the bridge proper. She was wearing one of his button up shirts, the purple rose tucked into the button hole between her breasts, with one of his ties affixed around her trim waist like a belt, and her heeled white boots. Spike's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he regarded her.

Licking his lips, Spike gestured at the table laden with food and flowers.

"No need to strain," He managed after a moment, brain catching up to her words. "Everything is spelled out pretty clearly, I'd say."

"Mm," She murmured in reply, slinking her way closer. "You're a changed man these days. Coming back from the dead seems to agree with you."

He rolled his eyes skyward. "I went there to see if I was really alive, not to die at all." But then he fixed his mismatched eyes on her. "I don't see the past out of one eye anymore, Faye. I see you, right now, in this present moment."

"I remembered my past, Spike." She replied as she reached him and slipped past him to tuck herself into one of the seats and began opening the take out boxes. "Mmm, dumplings, rice balls, noodles, wontons, Peking duck, and moon cakes?!" Faye reached out for the martini glass and took a generous sip.

"Admittedly the Peking duck was mostly to appease my own appetite, but I know you love the rest." Spike confided.

Faye set down her drink and smirked at him, then moved closer to the roses to inhale deeply. "Ohhh, roses are my favorite. Their scent is just so rich, so sinful…" Her gaze lingered on the blossoms for a moment before lifting up to peer at him over the top of the red blooms. "As I was saying…my memories came back. Nothing useful really, nothing that changes where I belong at least. But I do recall something about flowers. Quite a bit about flowers in fact. Did you know there's a whole language of meaning in flowers?" She leaned back in the chair to toy with the purple rose still snugged in the button hole.

"I may be fairly well versed in that language as a matter of fact." Spike said as he slid into the seat across from her and began dishing up the food onto their plates.

"I suspected as much after the orange one. The yellow didn't have to mean a thing but by the time the purple one showed up… well…"

"You've got some thorns, Valentine. Didn't want to get myself pricked… but you're also impossible to resist I hope you know." Picking up her martini glass to hand to her, relishing the smoothness of her skin as she let her fingers shift along his before claiming the stem of the vessel within her own grasp, Spike nearly shivered with delicious anticipation. Taking his own tumbler in hand, he tilted it towards her with a sincere look on his face.

"A toast, my dear, to…exploring urges…and perhaps seeing what may come of this spark between us." He held his breath as she raised an eyebrow and considered him for a long minute.

At last she tipped her own glass to chime against his in salute.

"To pursuing the potential…as long as we remember to stop and smell the roses from time to time." Her smile at him then changed from seductive to something warmer, touched with a more meaningful type of promise.

Perhaps romance, desire, passion and yes even love were still destined to be a part of his life.

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.

Day 19: Summer Storm

***

Spike wandered onto the deck of the Bebop from the hangar, wiping his hands on a rag before stuffing it in the back pocket of his brown cargo pants. He glanced around the flight deck but saw no one save for Faye who stood at the bow of the ship like some kind of old timey nautical figurehead.

She was wearing one of his yellow button up shirts - buttons completely undone - over a thin white tank top and the comfy shorts she often chose as loungewear in the evenings. Though he made no secret of his approach, she didn't bother to so much as glance in his direction even when he came up alongside her to stand shoulder to shoulder.

Curious as to what had her so transfixed, Spike followed her line of sight out over the cerulean waters and onto the horizon.

The sky was roughly divided in the distance. Dark gray nimbostratus clouds with a ragged base on the port side of the ship were a stark contrast to the wispy clouds streaking the azure sky. It was oddly mesmerizing to watch as the storm clouds overtook the hazy clouds higher up in the atmosphere.

Faye's hair, fluttering in the breeze that was starting to pick up, distracted him from his study of the horizon. Her delicate facial features were just as captivating to him. The paleness of her skin rivaled the shade of the fleeing altostratus clouds, the jewel tone of her eyes more magnificent to him than actual gemstones, and the inviting curl of her cherry red lips…

"Robbing my closet again are you?" He asked her in a low teasing tone as he withdrew a pack of cigarettes from one of the pockets on his upper thigh.

Her lips twisted up further though her gaze remained on the approaching storm clouds.

"Don't be silly, I'm no thief." A warm chuckle infused with pride and self satisfaction. "However, I am quite the opportunist and someone left their clean laundry in the washroom…"

"You hope it's clean anyway," He muttered dryly, a grin pulling at his mouth despite his attempt to come off as both reproachful and inspiring doubt as to the state of cleanliness.

She shifted on her feet, which he belatedly noticed were bare, and nudged against him with her shoulder.

"I'd actually prefer if it smelled more of you and less of detergent," She divulged, a blush staining her cheeks a dusky pink.

A feeling of warmth expanded in his chest. He lit the cigarette, inhaled, then passed it over to her so his right arm was free to wrap loosely around her back and settle on her right hip. She leaned against him and they passed the cigarette back and forth until it was nearly at the filter at which point he dropped it to the deck and stepped on it to put it out. He left his boot atop the butt with the intent of picking it up and throwing it away when he went back inside.

This world had enough garbage in it - enough still raining down from space itself - for him to add anymore to it.

"Whatcha doing out here anyway?"

"Summer storm rolling in… wanted to watch it make land." She replied quietly.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and then looked back at the view before them. "Sure, I get that. But you could watch it just as well from the bridge, ya know. Pretty sure Jet even washed the windows recently."

"Mm, he did, but it's not the same. I wanted to feel the air change. It's positively electric." The wind blew harder, pressing their clothing against their bodies, and she laughed with delight as the clouds swept above them and broke open. Rain splattered down and Faye finally looked up at him with a fierce grin. "Wanted to get drenched. I used to love dancing in the rain."

Whenever she shared a tidbit of her past - that precious time she only recovered in snatches - he felt incredibly honored. This time, he also felt inspired. He moved to take her in his arms in the opening position of a tango, heard her sharp intake of surprise and saw the pleasure dawning on her lovely face, and led her in a passionate series of dance steps as the rain poured down.

They were soaked, but they were smiling. The storm thundered in their ears, an unusual song to dance to and yet they moved as if it were the only possible response to the crack and clap and rolls of sound. Even as the lightning began, though by then they had started to make their way towards the open door of the hangar, dancing all the while.

Day 28: Sleepless Nights

* * *

Since being revived in this familiar yet bizarre future, where the people were the same despite thriving amongst the stars, where vehicles can zip from planet to planet with relative ease, where law had broken down and uncertainty reigned supreme, Faye had experienced the entire gamut of sleepless nights.

Escaping the hospital, her first few weeks were terrifying. Alone in a strange place, no home or friends or even food, trying to stay under the radar to avoid debt collectors… she’d spent countless nights wide awake just for her own protection. It was safer to steal sleep in snatches during daylight hours, when she could be someplace nondescript like a sandy beach where it was expected to see people napping at their ease.

Most folks without a job or a place to live could apply for benefits from their city or country or whatever the case may be. There were food pantries and food trucks and food lines and so on. But those things typically asked for her name or for proof of her identity and for someone trying to keep under cover this was not something she could boldly offer. So, begrudgingly, she gave up on those opportunities for sustenance and opted for the more dangerous routes of dumpster diving, living off the land (and hoping the plants she picked were edible and not going to give her a sour stomach) and of course conning people into treating her to meals with the expectation (always unmet) of something intimate in return. 

Eventually her life on the run had fallen into a semi-sustainable rhythm as she met and befriended a few cunning individuals who helped her shape the course of her own future. Card sharks and street walkers alike had plenty of advice for her and plenty of lessons to impart. Places she could eat or sleep that required no identification. Targets she could focus on to make her life easier when it came to begging for a meal or flaunting herself for a new outfit. Ways to stack the deck and rig the dice and otherwise turn fortune in her favor in small ways that wouldn’t be so obvious as to get her caught.

Her sleepless nights then were due to running the long game, as it were. The game of survival. All her best marks were on the casino floor late at night, or in bars after dark. The rubes she chose to help her make it from day to day - or week to week, if it was a particularly good night - were afterhours individuals and therefore that became her work shift so to speak.

And then came the Bebop where everything got turned on its head. Part of the issue, once she settled in on the converted fishing trawler, was the fact that it ventured all around the galaxy. Suddenly there was no established “day” or “night” because who knew where they’d be at any particular time. It might be morning on Mars but afternoon on Ganymede. Her sleep schedule was suddenly all out of whack. But for once she was in a place she considered safe enough to close her eyes anytime she was tired. She had a room she could lock herself in - and lock the world out. More than that, she knew she was in no danger of being accosted by the men on the ship with her. She could, if she wanted, pass out for hours on the couch like Spike tended to.

Not that she ever did. That was his place.

But a lounge chair in the sun on the deck of the ship? She could relax there and be assured that no one would disturb her peace.

Well, until Ed showed up anyway. But Ed wasn’t a burly thug trying to force Faye into anything. Ed wasn’t a gutter-minded man (or woman) seeking to come upon Faye while she was unaware. Ed was simply a wild child who lived life with no adherence to standard sleep hours either. She’d startled Faye any number of times by showing up unexpectedly in Faye’s room, or the shower, or beside her while she was sunbathing. But Ed meant no harm - typically her presence was due to curiosity or boredom or both.

Before Ed arrived, however, Faye stumbled on a new source of sleepless nights.

She went after a bounty - one that had the guys butting heads - and she got in too deep. Spike, supposedly for reasons of his own, came after her. In destructive fashion, he rescued her from the clutches of death while racing towards that violent end himself. Thankfully, for her own guilty conscience as much as for himself in general, he wasn’t actually killed. Lacerations, a severe gash to his left shoulder, terrible finger-shaped bruising on his face, a bullet wound to his midriff - somehow missing all vital organs, the lucky bastard - and of course the brunt force damage he took upon landing after being shoved out a stained glass window… all of that added up to a painful survival but a survival nonetheless.

Still, he was unconscious for days. Long days and even longer nights as she sat vigil at his side. Jet had tried to oust her once or twice but she felt so incredibly responsible for his injuries that she couldn’t stay away for long. A quick shower, a hurried bite to eat, maybe a catnap that she would wake from with a racing heart and fear choking her. It wasn’t until she made it back to the living room and could see that Spike’s chest was rising and falling on its own accord that the grip of terror on her very lungs would subside.

So many sleepless nights watching over that lunkhead. That was just the first time. A two-day sleeping spell after the Pierrot incident. Then, in the aftermath of his attempt at taking out Vincent, he’d been asleep for nearly four days. And of course the harrowing takedown of the Red Dragon Syndicate… once he was back on board the ship, after being so touch and go that they didn’t dare take him from the machines at the senior citizen nursing home… 

He’d been in rough shape and that was saying something considering how often Spike had gotten himself banged up in just the few years she’d known the man. Even after he was considered out of the woods enough to relocate him to the security of the Bebop… the fever he got at one point almost proved his undoing at last. She and Jet had both been pushed beyond exhaustion as they tried to keep his temperature down, his wounds clean, and his thrashing to a minimum.

Who would have thought that, months and months and months later, Spike would once again be the cause of her sleepless nights? Or…well, part of the cause anyway. She was naturally to blame as well. But she simply couldn’t blame the baby.

It had been only a short time since his arrival and they were delirious with lack of adequate rest.

As soon as her eyelids closed, as if sensing his mother flirting with slumber, little Lupin would wake with a wail. He was so incredibly small, so absurdly needy…and she couldn’t fault him for it one bit. DB had warned her that newborns required feeding almost constantly. Their tiny tummies could only hold so much at a time and they burned through energy quickly despite only being awake for such short windows. Besides that, the baby hadn’t even acclimated to the notion of hunger quite yet - he’d been supplied with as much nourishment as he’d ever needed while he was in the womb, so the concept of discomfort due to hunger was an alien one. The little dear didn’t even know that hunger was one of the issues he was facing - it was up to Faye and Spike to address the situation by putting food in his little suckling mouth. And, since Spike wasn’t the one breastfeeding the baby, that meant it was ultimately up to Faye.

Oh, she had intentions of pumping so Spike could feed the baby breastmilk from a bottle, but those good intentions had no chance of coming to fruition given how she had so far been unable to take even the smallest break from the baby.

He was just so demanding!

If it wasn’t a nipple he was after, then it was a diaper change he needed, and then he couldn’t stand being laid down. He settled down decently whether it was Faye or Spike holding him, but they had so far been unable to put him in the crib for an actual rest and neither dared doze off while holding the baby.

It would no doubt prove unsustainable, but currently they were hanging on by a fraying thread.

It helped that Lupin was so adorable. Mooning over the most beautiful face she’d ever seen was almost relaxing enough to count as sleep. And the hour-long nap she’d get when Spike would be holding the baby… when added up with the other hour-long breaks here and there… technically that was like getting a decent amount of sleep broken up into pieces. Spike was getting about the same amount of interrupted shut-eye since he tended to wake up at every little coo or cry Lupin made while Faye was snuggling the baby.

She was tempted to tell him to go crash for a few hours on the couch where he might be able to get several hours under his belt, but the idea of being on her own with such a precious responsibility in her arms… what if she accidentally nodded off? What if she needed help and couldn’t yell loud enough to rouse anyone in the other part of the ship? What if what if what if?

Even when the baby slept they weren’t comfortable closing their eyes themselves. He was so brand new, his little nasal passages and airways so unused to processing oxygen… and, while she meant well with her warnings, DB’s explanation of SIDS had been so thoroughly traumatizing that neither of them wanted to risk something happening while little Lupin slept.

So they were awake when he was awake and awake when he was asleep. Day in, day out.

But these sleepless nights wouldn’t last forever… Lupin wouldn’t remain so needy and so vulnerable. So Faye was trying to look on the bright side - easier said than done when her eyes were so tired and her body felt exhausted nearly beyond the ability to push through.

She wasn’t sleepless due to fear of assault. She wasn’t sleepless due to concern over Spike being virtually comatose. She was merely sleepless because of the most darling little boy she had never imagined would bring her life such a sense of fulfillment and love. She’d take that sleepy struggle over the other versions any day.

Day 31: Author's Choice ... Date Night

Written for @kiraannwrites who wanted some fluffy romantic Spike/Faye 😘

***

Faye sported a crooked grin as she meandered through the aisles of clothing at the thrift shop off one of the main roads in downtown Alba City. There were easily dozens of thrift shops within the city but this one, nestled so near the affluent portion of the city populace, promised to have the most high-end options out there.

Normally she didn’t care as much but she wanted to make tonight especially fun and for that she needed to get Spike decked out in something truly fabulous. He was somewhere else in this three-story store, though she hadn’t seen him since they’d split up on arrival. She was bouncing on her feet out of anticipation of what the day might hold for them.

It was Date Night and it was kind of a big deal. All too often, their date nights were half for themselves to enjoy and half set up as a cover for a bounty, but this one… this entire day in fact, was specifically theirs to savor without any sort of work hidden at all.

They’d decided to take turns over the course of the afternoon and Faye had won the coin toss which meant she got first pick. Initially she’d been in a panic because she had no idea what to do and it’s not like they were flush with cash, but now things were falling into place. To start with, she had found the perfect outfit for Spike to wear.

Go To Hell golf shorts - in her day, the company had made trousers but apparently now they had shorts available as well, which was perfect for making Spike show off his skinny ass legs. She’d found a pair of yellow with bright red lobsters and a pair of electric blue with neon green frogs and still hadn’t decided on which to go with. Eventually though she settled on the blue pair because it would go well with the beautiful soft leather laser print navy blue with cognac colored wingtip slip-on loafers - with matching cognac tassels, leather lining, and leather sole. She was being quite kind by opting for these as quite a few of the spectator shoes here were… well, obnoxious was putting it lightly.

Traditionally, most golfers would pair the eccentric pattern of the pants with a much simpler - often solid color - polo shirt but Faye was not trying to make Spike look sensible. She chose the purple and navy madras patterned long sleeve polo and over that an argyle patterned navy and purple and pale pink knitted v-neck vest. A navy tweed golf cap was the final touch, though she couldn’t imagine how it might sit on Spike’s poof of hair.

Chortling with delight, she gathered up all the pieces of her costume and brought them into the changing room so she could reassign the values on the price tags to something far more affordable. This was a thrift shop, after all, these items certainly shouldn’t have been put on the rack or shelves at the cost they’d been marked to be. In no time she was cutting in front of a bleach blonde lady pushing a cart in front of her and pulling another behind. Like hell was she about to wait for that lady to check out!

Scant minutes later, she was emerging onto the sidewalk and half-blinded by the sunshine of the day. Even so, she could hear the snort from Spike who had been lurking near the entrance apparently. No surprise he’d managed to be in and out quicker than her but in all fairness his costume had so many parts required in order to work!

“Off to the club, are we?” He teased as he reached over to grab the clear plastic bag of clothes from her hand. He swapped her bag for the one piece of fabric he’d been holding. “Your attire for the day, m’lady.”

Gleefully, Faye unfolded the garment to reveal a pink v-neck vintage day style tennis dress with a cute printed gathered skirt attached. She could already envision herself twirling in it and setting the skirt to flare up around her hips.

“Great minds, apparently,” She replied, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “Clubs have tennis courts and golf courses after all. And we’re gonna go see if we can gain admission to the ritziest one we can find! Preferably one where we can find a schmuck whose account we can pin all of our drink and meal charges to.”

Spike chuckled. “I like the way you think, Faye.” He took the dress back from her hands to stuff into the bag of his clothes. “Don’t wave that around in front of the doors like that,” He admonished as he casually took her hand with his free one.

“You stole my outfit?” She hissed at him as they strolled away from the thrift store and towards the nearest bus stop.

He quirked a brow at her and grinned shamelessly. “My darling, fashion for one such as yourself? Simply priceless.”

Snickering at his audacity, she swayed into him with her shoulder. “All right, a penny saved is a penny saved so…” Swinging their joined hands into the air in front of them and then behind them, Faye sighed happily. “We gotta figure out a way to look like we belong and I don’t think hopping off at the bus stop is gonna present that image.”

Spike shook his head in agreement. “Nah, I was thinking we’d hit up a car dealership and take something appropriate for a test drive. Maybe call your ship over to unload our clothes after we change into this nonsense,” He shook the bag for emphasis as they reached the bus stop. “I’ll let you take the first change in the bathroom once the bus gets here.”

“Oh, you are a true gentleman,”

***

They were both breathless with laughter as they scaled the wall on the edge of the club house grounds and Faye found herself grateful for the hidden spandex shorts portion of her dress as the rest of the outfit scrunched around her waist so she could straddle the wall smoothly and then drop down onto the street on the other side.

“Dammit, I knew you’d get us kicked out of there!” She accused, pushing Spike ahead of her as they staggered, tipsy, down the sidewalk. “Come on! They’re gonna send guards after us if we don’t get further away!”

“Ohhhh what can they do? We’re off their property now,” Spike replied nonchalantly, continuing to move at a pace Faye deemed too slow. “And I got us kicked out? As I recall, you were the one who convinced that guy’s wife to use the pole on that carousel horse as a stripper pole!”

Laughing helplessly again at the memory, Faye tottered into Spike as he came to a complete halt.

“I didn’t think she’d actually do it!” Wiping tears from her eyes, Faye produced a woolong card and waved it arrogantly in front of Spike as he turned to face her. “But I did win the bet with that old biddy at the pool because of that! Who knew people were such lushes and gossips at a place like that? Oh, I could make a killing if I was able to sneak in there more often…”

Spike chuckled. “Yeah, betting on people’s behavior seems safer than the ponies. Here, it’s my turn to pick what we do next and I know just the thing.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a series of kisses along her exposed throat, letting his hands roam freely up and down her back and hips.

“Wait,” Faye interrupted breathlessly, “what are we gonna do about that car from the dealership? How are we gonna get it back from the club parking lot?” She hiccuped and her cheeks flushed. Champagne was not her normal drink.

Shrugging, Spike detached himself from her and took her hand to tug her over to the curb where he hailed a cab. “Not our problem. I gave fake names so we’re gold.”

They hopped into the cab and Spike gave the driver an address and then the woolong card that Faye had been waving around previously. She gaped at him when he winked at her. “What! I had that secreted away on my person!” She exclaimed.

“Yes, well, I had my hands all over your person…” He replied suavely. “And it was so nice I might just put them there again…” With a lecherous smirk, he made good on his words while Faye yelped and blushed and tried to avoid catching the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Shortly thereafter, the cab deposited a scandalized Faye and a smug Spike on a new street. He smiled at her and then rapped on a simple door on the backside of an enormous brick building. A few minutes passed by and then Spike shrugged and made his way, Faye following curiously, to another door. By the time they’d reached a fourth she was definitely perplexed but Spike seemed more confident than ever.

That time, something happened. The door opened a crack and a voice from inside whispered out. “What’s the password?”

“All that glitters is gold,” Spike replied, passing something through to the unseen individual inside.

“Whatever, works for me.” Came the response and the door swung open a little further to show a gangly youth in a theater uniform who was admiring a gold watch he’d just slipped onto his narrow wrist.

“Suits ya, kid.” Spike complimented as he led Faye into the darkened room.

“What is going on?” She asked quietly as they made their way along a dimly lit hallway.

“Treating you to a film, my dear.” He told her. “Back when I was a kid on Tharsis, there was always at least one theater attendant interested in making some extra money or open to whatever bribe might come along. Doesn’t cost as much to pay off a low level employee like that - theater tickets are outrageous these days! - and anyway that was a score from the thrift shop too, so…” His laugh was positively devious.

Faye grinned wickedly. “Oh if Jet knew the deviants he hosts on his ship…”

“Psh, petty crimes are beneath any proper cop’s radar.” Spike declared. “Now let’s see what there is playing, hey? No guarantee we’ll be able to catch a full flick because these are all probably already in progress but… at any rate, I’ve always wanted to neck with someone at the movies. Never had a chance before!”

“Oh and you think you’re getting one today, huh?” She leaned in close to wrap her arms around his waist, making their continued forward progress more difficult - exactly the way she knew Spike liked things.

“Oh I think you’ll be singing a different tune when I finagle some hot buttered popcorn from concessions!”

***

“Okay, now… shift your weight a little… see? That’s a much better stance. Inhale, exhale, and give it a nice smooth release…” Spike advised, using his hands to adjust Faye’s position on the mini golf course tee box.

They were on the sixth hole and using any excuse they could think of to get handsy with each other. Several groups of adults with children had hustled the kids past - skipping whichever hole Spike and Faye happened to be on at the time - with glaring expressions on the adults while the youngsters seemed either unaware and indifferent or else highly amused and jeering as their parents hurried them along the putt putt course.

Naturally, neither Spike nor Faye paid any of the onlookers any mind. It had been Faye's turn to pick their next destination and she'd opted for the adventure golf course to get the most use out of Spike's costume and because they'd been chased from the club's course before they'd had a chance to hit the links.

Even before their behavior began to venture out of PG-13 territory, they'd been getting odd looks from others just thanks to Spike's attire. Apparently people did not often wear golfing clothes to mini golf games. Not that he was wearing all the clothes anymore - the hat was long gone after their country club escape and the vest had been left behind in the aftermath of the frisky business at the movie theater.

"Next hole has a windmill obstacle," Faye noted.

"That's a helicopter, Faye."

She rolled her eyes. "It's obviously meant to be a windmill-type obstacle, you ass. It's a helicopter crashed onto its side…sorta… I mean, the propellers are intact and in motion so… maybe it's just demonstrating a stunt? Whatever."

"Hmm." Spike ran his hands up her side, his golf club laying forgotten on the ground. "It looks like we could go inside the body of the helicopter."

She shivered with delight at his touch. "Hmm…mmm… whatcha thinking, cowboy?"

"Well… you ever join the mile high club?"

A snort. "You wanna go there and play pretend? Use our imagination?"

He draped himself over her even more fully. "Baby, you lift my spirits so high, I won't need to pretend. Give me half a chance here and I'll make you soar above the clouds."

She gave a throaty laugh and let her club fall to the ground as well. The location of their neon colored golf balls had been long forgotten.

"You're so damn corny," She turned her head so she could nip at his earlobe. "I fucking love it. Take me there, Spike."

"Fasten your seatbelt, baby, it's gonna be a wild ride…"

***

The sun was setting in a brilliant blaze of colors smearing across the horizon with the silhouette of skyscrapers starting to sparkle with the pinprick of lights turning on here and there.

"Not a bad view," Spike murmured to his date, taking a sip of the wine he'd been offered when they arrived.

"You're telling me," Faye purred appreciatively, making eyes at him when he glanced from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the twentieth story of the building they were in.

"Gruyere and crab palmiers?" A clear voice piped up from behind them.

Sharing a tender look, they turned with hungry eyes to regard the chipper waiter who was holding a tray of pastries.

"Why thank you," Faye told the waiter with a smile.

"Don't mind if I do," Spike said as he scooped up half a dozen.

The waiter stared, aghast. Faye thanked him again and gently turned him around to leave them and mingle with the other guests.

By the time she'd turned back to Spike, all of the pastries were out of sight - presumably stuffed in his pockets or mouth - save for a pair which he was offering her.

"Well, this is a good way to end date night," Faye said approvingly. She stepped next to Spike and snuggled into his side as he wrapped his left arm around her.

"It was Ed's idea, this part." Spike informed her. "She had the idea of finding out if any big corporations were having parties and stumbled on this bank anniversary. I figured since we look like we've got money stashed somewhere… anyway, all she asked for in return was some of the grub being thrown around. Easy peasy."

"Mm, gonna have to file that idea away for future use. Smart kid." She sighed happily. "Gotta admit, Spike. It's been a pretty great day. And it hardly cost us a thing!"

He squeezed her to his side a little tighter. "Hell, you made money at the club. But…someday when we're a little richer… I do wanna take you out properly."

She smiled. "I'd take this type over the traditional type a thousand times over, just so you know. But by all means, you're welcome to wine and dine me anytime, love."

Spike grinned down at her. "All right then, baby. It's a date."

It had been a long day. She and Spike were standing on the deck now, smoking, watching headlights trail by on the road that ran alongside the harbor.

Her stomach fluttered with anticipation but she played it cool.

For the past week he'd come to her, long after dusk. Sharing a smoke and companionable silence, and then kissing her at midnight.

The first time, finishing his cigarette before she had finished hers, he had caught her other hand in his as he walked back towards the hangar door. Flashing her a crooked smile, he had brought her fingertips to his lips and pressed a kiss there before releasing her. While she'd been left stunned, he strolled away casual as ever.

He hadn't mentioned the flirtatious maneuver the next day. Their interactions had all been as normal as ever. Chalking it up to Spike being whimsical or just trying to throw her off balance with a tease, she had summarily dismissed the incident from mind.

But that night, after he butted out his cigarette, he snuck a kiss to her bare shoulder as he moved behind her to head back inside. Gasping, she had brought the hand holding the last of her cigarette to press against the still-tingling flesh where his lips had just been. Her eyes followed him as he went whistling through the hangar door.

Another day of the same-old same-old ensued. They bagged a few bounties and ate like kings and then retired to the flight deck for the now routine leisurely puff under the stars. The nicotine and tobacco that usually brought her some calm now made her a bit jittery instead, the way it did way back when she first began smoking.

It was the third night and he paused behind her this time. Trailed both hands up and down her naked arms and stepped in close, threading his fingers with hers at her side. She trembled, almost imperceptibly, and he nuzzled the nape of her neck before pressing an open mouth kiss to the left side of her throat.

Her fingers had automatically clenched around his when he shifted to untangle their handhold and walk away. His chuckle had set off alarm bells for her and she'd reacted instinctively by wrenching her hands free and crouching down in the same moment. Moving before he had a chance to truly understand her strategy, she pushed through his legs, shot to her feet, and shoved him bodily into the dark water of the Martian harbor.

The next day she steered clear of Spike in case of retaliation and also because she was still pissed at him for his antics. To be so unexpectedly tender, so curiously charming, and then to play it off afterwards as if nothing had occurred at all... That was one thing - something she could even view as exciting - but that laugh which had seemed to her to be at her expense...

If he was just toying with her out of boredom or because he derived some sick amusement out of it...

She was no one's plaything.

She was the one who did the teasing, in fact.

But that fourth night still found her on the deck. And Spike ambled out to join her with a twinkle in his eye. He offered her his pack of cigarettes and she made sure to help herself to a couple. His sharp eyes followed the movement of her hands as she put one in between her lips and then tucked the other two away in her top. They'd be safe there for now as it was a cool night and she wasn't perspiring.

"Relax, Valentine." He said to her in a soothing tone as he lit a cigarette of his own. "I'm not fucking with you." He leaned towards her and used the ember of his cigarette to spark the one held between her tightly clenched lips as she inhaled sharply at his words and the intimacy of his action.

She leaned away and puffed furiously on her cigarette for a moment. "No? Sure seems like it." She eyed him distrustfully as the night grew darker around them.

He exhaled slowly. "Wouldn't dream of it." His eyes locked onto her. "These days I save my dreams for wishes I want to come true." His voice held no tone of jest, no hint of deception. For months as he healed from his altercation with the syndicate he had been withdrawn and morose.

It had only been a few weeks since he was back to catching bounties with her and Jet - and even Jet had been on a self-imposed medical leave for a bit as his leg healed up. She'd been on her own for the actual takedown of bounties, though Jet had occasionally brought his Hammerhead around to pitch in or save her ass.

Not that she'd needed rescue really. But backup was nice in a pinch.

Like flipping a light switch, one day Spike had just been sitting up on the couch. He bitched about the ramen cup diet they'd been on. He mentioned some rumors he'd heard over the police scanner. And then he'd gotten up and tagged along with her to get the job done.

She wasn't sure what this new evolution of Spike entailed. Certainly she hadn't expected him to start courting her or whatever this was. If not a cruel ruse... Then what? The possibilities made her heart thump painfully in her chest. Feelings were dangerous things. She mistrusted her own more than anyone else's. Other people - Spike aside - were easy to read. As for herself, sure she knew her own deepest darkest fears, but she'd been made a fool of before and despaired of ever playing that part again.

Far better to keep oneself at arm's length or further. Emotional entanglement was a recipe for disaster.

And yet...

She couldn't lie to herself. She'd been intrigued by Spike almost from the beginning. Attracted to him as well. And while his recent behavior filled her with nervousness and misgivings, she was quite aware of his character. A lazy man with a tragic backstory and a habit of getting himself into challenging situations. A man who would leap into the pit of Hell to save someone else. He used to project an air of apathy and nonchalance.

Now he seemed emboldened. Inspired. Ready to give living a damn good shot.

Her cigarette had burned down to the filter while she stood lost in thought. His eyes hadn't strayed from her form. Slowly, as if afraid she might bolt, he closed the distance between them.

"May I?"

Faye let the ashy cigarette drop to the flight deck and chose to be daring. She gave a cautious nod.

His eyes gleamed with arousal as he reached into her top and pulled out one of the cigarettes she'd hidden there. Taking his lighter out of his pants pocket, he shielded the flame from the light breeze and brought the fire to the tip of the cigarette. Inhaling to draw the cigarette to burning life, she could still feel the ghost of his long fingers tracing between her breasts as he pocketed the lighter again and tilted his head to press a kiss to the right side of her throat.

"Should never rush a good thing," He remarked as he pulled back and made his way inside.

The next night he'd had a cigarette lit for her by the time she arrived and they smoked them down together. Butterflies had been dancing in her stomach as he moved to stand before her. Her mouth had been parted in expectation. He gave her a half smirk and kissed her left cheek sweetly, like a gentleman bidding a respectful goodnight to his date.

The sixth night he'd kissed her right cheek, at the corner of her mouth, and there was no way he'd missed the gasp she couldn't keep to herself. That had been no gentlemanly kiss... That had been a scoundrel sneaking as close to a full kiss as possible.

The seventh night he had surprised her by cradling her face in his warm palms and kissing her forehead gently.

And now it had been a week of peppering her with affection. Of back-to-back gun fights as they tackled bounties. Of bantering over ship radios as they flew about the galaxy on this mission or that. Jet acted like a parent watching a child fumble their way through wooing their first crush. He seemed amused at their arguments and she'd caught him giving Spike a look with eyebrows raised in silent query just the other day, to which Spike had grinned and shrugged and then looked over to her with such blatant adoration that she fled the room blushing.

And now the stars were hidden by clouds that kept the heat of the day trapped, making the night air mild and enjoyable. The apprehension she still feels over the notion of getting involved with Spike is tempered by the thrill of what may lay ahead. Sure, this is the only place that had begun to feel like home since she woke up in 2068 but that didn't mean she had any true ties to the ship. If it came to it, she would bail in a heartbeat. At least this time no one would be shackling her to any more debt. What could a broken heart cost her? It seemed worth the risk just to see what skills this lanky cowboy possessed behind closed doors. To investigate how his appreciation of her might turn her world upside down.

Life was all about taking chances - what was the point otherwise?

Spike reached out for her right hand and pulled it to his lips. Eyes on her face, studying her reaction intently, he kissed all the way up her arm and then, as she shivered with delight, he finally found her lips with his. He kissed her like a drowning man who had just broken the surface of a raging ocean and found the air. He kissed her like a starving man at last given a feast. He kissed her like she was everything he'd ever desired and he was possessed by a need to let her know.

And because she was who she was, Faye met him passion for passion. Dueling tongues like this was far better than exchanging witty barbs and playful insults. Competing for dominance had never been so full of bliss and carnal yearning.

Those light pecks all week long... The desire that had been building between them all this time...

It was a tsunami crashing over them now.

And Faye was more than ready to be swept away. In fact she'd take a page straight out of Spike's book and jump into the wave, surfing it into a sea of uncertainty without hesitation, right at his side.

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Cowboy Bebop (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Faye Valentine Characters: Spike Spiegel, Faye Valentine, Jet Black, Ed (Cowboy Bebop), Ein (Cowboy Bebop), Victoria Terpsichore, Andy (Cowboy Bebop) Series: Part 3 of CB Music Keeps Us Together Summary:

The crew of the Bebop has just gotten bigger! What does that mean for everyone? And how will adjusting to these new roles affect life and work and their previously established found family dynamic? There's a lot on everyone's plate now that there's a baby on board!

Pt. 3 of Music Keeps Us Together features even more character growth (literally in some cases) and a gradual shift into a new type of normalcy... making the most of life, the universe and everything!

safety net / swooning / how many fingers am I holding up (but now the room is spinning while I’m just trying to fill in all the gaps)

***

The room was spinning around her, far worse than the nights where the hangover kicked in before she could pass out. She tried to sit up, stand up, get back on her feet but the attempt left her retching. Gunshots rang out all around her, echoing painfully in her ears and making her flinch.

She never flinched. She'd been in plenty of shootouts and held her cool every time no matter how ill prepared she was or how little cover existed or how many opponents she was up against.

But the tilting visuals left her unable to focus on anything around her and that made her vulnerable and fear shot through her at the prospect of catching one of those bullets. Lethal or not, it wouldn't make her day improve that's for damn sure.

"Close your eyes!" Spike's voice shouted at her from somewhere beyond the vortex of her view. "Lay down and stay down!"

Without hesitation she complied. If anyone could get her out of this situation - could keep her alive while she couldn't defend herself - it would be Spike Spiegel. Vaulting into certain danger was her M.O. but she didn't do it recklessly. Spike was her safety net. He'd pulled her bacon out of the fire countless times and while she endeavored to return the favor, the scales were tipped pretty heavily in his direction as the hero.

Time stretched endlessly while she took shallow breaths and tried to ignore the sickening pounding of her skull. She was probably lucky to still be conscious after the blow that had laid her out and turned her world upside down and round and round.

That asshole was obviously incapacitated or dead given the fact that she hadn't been touched since the bottle struck her. Nausea roiled in her belly at the recollection and she had to change her breathing to a staggered pant to keep from dry heaving again.

And then the commotion seemed to die down. A muffled sort of quiet descended in the absence of whizzing bullets exploding shrapnel from the brick walls and wood beams of the basement. Footsteps pounded in her direction and she became cognizant of motion at her side. Warm hands against her head, fingertips dancing gingerly along her skull where all the agony originated. Despite knowing it must be Spike, she couldn't control her body's reaction to the gentle touch as she tried to pull away, tried to curl in on herself, with a whimper that she hated emitting.

"Faye, open your eyes. I need you to look at me now." His voice was calm, the command in his words impossible to ignore.

Cautiously, Faye opened her eyes, immediately relieved when she realized Spike was kneeling beside her and thankfully stationary and the room around him stable as well. Opening her eyes increased the headache and she knew she was wincing but she couldn't force herself to open her eyes further than a crack.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

She could feel both his hands cradling her skull still and frowned.

"None." She rasped. "Or… all of them? What kind of a trick question is this?"

The worry in his dark gaze flickered to amusement at her response and a corner of his mouth ticked up into a half smirk.

"You've probably got a concussion. There's some blood matted in your hair here from the bottle breaking on your thick skull. No slurred speech though so that's a good sign. We'll take it easy here for a bit while you recover - I'm not keen on having you vomit on me if I move you too soon."

"Gee, make a girl swoon why don't you," She muttered, pissed off more at the likelihood of that happening than about him teasing her about barfing.

He chuckled. "No, see, that's what we're trying to avoid. Stop being a smartass and just relax, would ya? But don't fall asleep!"

She let her tense neck muscles loosen as she allowed his hands to take the full weight of her aching head and closed her eyes as well.

"Not my first rodeo, cowboy…"

At his exasperated sigh she found herself wanting to smile for the first time since their ambush of the bounty began to fail. Well, they couldn't always win but at least this was another time where they both survived.

Daybreak

A time of promise. All the possible potential for an amazing day stretching out as far as the sun's rays could reach. A cloudless sky, no halo of moon debris looming above, merely rainbow hues heralding the stately rise of the sun.

Fresh air, a cool breeze, and birdsong. What more could a person desire?

"Faye… hey, Faye… FAYE! Wake up!" An irritating voice cut through the lilting tunes of the birds. The enticing aroma of a burning cigarette filtered through the fresh air.

And suddenly she was taken from the idyllic moment of peace and transported to an uncomfortable couch with no sun creeping to hang overhead but rather the dull gray walls and the slowly spinning ceiling fan making its regular rotations overhead.

Rubbing her eyes, she turned her head slightly to see Spike's long lean legs at eye level. Her gaze traveled further, over his stringbean body bent in half at the waist to his face not far from her own and the smoking cigarette clamped in between his lips.

"You're hogging the couch." He muttered.

Scowling, she pushed up on her elbows and then, in a move too fast for him to anticipate given her groggy state, she snatched the cigarette from him as she propelled herself into a fully seated state.

He rolled his eyes at her antics but didn't battle her to reclaim his property. Instead he slumped down beside her on the couch and kicked his feet up on the table before them.

"Daytime already?" She asked then, yawning hugely as she held his cigarette in the hand opposite the side he was sitting on.

"Does it matter? We're nowhere right now."

Ugh. That meant hours of loafing around the ship trying to avoid Jet and any chores he might try to assign. Hours of boredom before they got anywhere that might have work for them to do. Hours of… why the fuck had Spike woken her up for nothing?

"You jackass," she uttered then. "I was having the best dream. Watching a sunrise as the world slowly woke up all around me."

Spike snorted. "That's not much of a best dream."

She took a few angry puffs of his cigarette. "Oh yeah? What's yours then if you're such a good judge of such matters?"

He blinked at her. Silence reigned for several moments and then, as she stubbed out the cigarette when she finally thought he wasn't going to say anything at all, he spoke again.

"All right. Maybe that is a pretty good dream." He let his head rest on the back of the couch to stare at the spinning fan. "Wanna share it with me?"

Yawning again, Faye shifted to be sitting nearer and leaned over so her temple brushed against the wild poof of his hair.

"You're just lucky I'm such a nice girl." She murmured, already drowsing. "For waking me up you deserve for me to dream you into some uncomfortable situations."

Spike chuckled. "It's dawn of your day, yeah? Sounds like we've got plenty of time for that to happen still.'