A Day Like Any Other
Disclaimer: You know the deal, I don't own them and never will. Yet this doesn't stop me from writing, you lucky dogs. Author's Note: Let's just get on with it, you don't really need any of this silly author crap to enjoy the story. So just read, enjoy and review if you want.
Chapter 1: Cut to the End
Jet clamped a tight hand on the wall keeping himself from falling completely over, landing in a not so glamorous lump on the metal floor beneath him. He felt the blood trickled from the corner of his mouth catching on the wet hairs of his beard. He slowly lifted his other arm and wiped the cold metal hand down his face. He blinked his eyes hard against the growing pain in his head as his hand traveled down to his crimson stained and damp shirt. He grimaced as he brought his paint covered metal hand from his shirt and into his view.
"Bark."
"Huh?" Jet said slipping his gaze from his hand to his feet where Ein sat licking his own nose. "So you're back too. Any luck?" Ein cocked his head to the side and stared at Jet. "Well, you aren't in a ditch, that's a plus." Jet released his grip, placed it back on to the black pitchfork, and continued on. His slow pace echoed on in the hall from the hangar bay to the common room, the clunk of the pitchfork hitting along with his feet an added bonus. He put an arm behind his back cracking his aching muscles and joints as he walked. Ein trotted happily beside him, his tongue hanging and wagging wildly with every step.
When Jet entered the common room, he stopped in mid step at the sight before him. His arms fell limp at his side and his head cocked to the side.
Edward lay on the table, her body looking as if someone had just dropped her there. Her thin legs were up on her tomato, the screen glowing an eerie yellow through the slits of her limbs. Her right arm was thrown straight up beside her head hanging off the edge of the table, while the left was hanging off the edge straight off to her side. Her normally white t-shirt was splattered with splotches of brown as was her face. An empty waffle cone lay on the floor beneath her left hand.
Faye Valentine lay sprawled out on the floor, snuggly fit between the ugly yellow sofa and the table. Her head seemed uncomfortably smashed on a small pillow that kept her face from the cold steel below her. Jet noticed the bruise on her eye, even though it was half hidden by the sunglasses that were now askew on her face. One bare foot was up on the sofa, while the other on the cold floor, her boots, Jet noticed with a smirk, were tossed across the room. A brown blanket lay over her torso down to her knees, her arms thrown up by her head. Jet rolled his eyes at the half- assed bandage job done to her left arm, wincing at the amount of wasted tape. The bandage ran from the middle of her upper arm down to the tips of her fingers, and the red marker smiley faces that covered it was a clear sign of who the doctor had been.
Jet snickered as his gaze moved up on to the couch. Spike Spiegel lay half on his stomach, half on his side on top of the yellow sofa. His sock covered feet hung off the arm of the sofa, Faye's one bare foot stopped by his shin. Over his back, acting as a very crappy blanket, was Faye's red sweater. His face was uncomfortably smashed into the yellow vinyl of his "favorite seat", and an unlit cigarette hung from his slightly opened lips. Jet rolled his eyes again and snickered as his eyes landed on the bruise on Spike's face, and the large gash across his forehead, which was half covered by his tie which had been fashioned as a make-shift bandage. Spike's right arm seemed to be trapped under him, while his left hung loosely over the edge of the sofa, his fingers barely touching Faye's shoulder.
"Bark."
"Hush." Jet mumbled as he stepped fully into the common room, setting his lucky pitchfork against the wall. Ein followed on his heels and quickly passed him. Jet once again halted his steps as he watched Ein trot over to the sleeping trio. His eyes widened as the dog passed Ed, stepped over Faye's legs, and jumped up on to the sofa and onto Spike's back. The dog looked over at Jet before snuggling into the red sweater placed over Spike's shoulders and settling in for a nap. For a few minutes Jet just stood there staring at the odd spectacle before him. Then he let out a big yawn and began staggering towards the shower, stopping in front of the door.
"Looks like I get first dibs---" Jet opened the door saying a silent prayer to whatever the hell was up there, and looked in to find the bathroom just as clean as he had left it earlier. "For this," He said as he looked up towards the ceiling. "I owe you one." Jet stepped into the room and stripped off his clothes, grimacing as his paint covered shirt stuck to his chest. He turned the water on and stepped into the steaming water with a grateful moan. His muscles ached and he leaned his head on the cold wall watching the small bit of blood from his mouth turn the water pink. He looked at his hand, and watched as the water cleaned his bleeding and swollen knuckles.
Ok, so it hadn't been as good an idea as he thought, and apparently his crewmates found this out as well. Well, to hell with it. I guess even when you try something new, it turns out just the same as anything else.
After finishing his shower Jet found some clean clothes, grabbed a beer, and staggered slowly into his bonsai room. His retreat. His place to sit and relax and just forget everything that was going on. He set the beer down and then sat down at the table, he put a hand to his throbbing jaw and rolled his eyes.
Disclaimer: You know the deal, I don't own them and never will. Yet this doesn't stop me from writing, you lucky dogs. Author's Note: Let's just get on with it, you don't really need any of this silly author crap to enjoy the story. So just read, enjoy and review if you want.
Chapter 1: Cut to the End
Jet clamped a tight hand on the wall keeping himself from falling completely over, landing in a not so glamorous lump on the metal floor beneath him. He felt the blood trickled from the corner of his mouth catching on the wet hairs of his beard. He slowly lifted his other arm and wiped the cold metal hand down his face. He blinked his eyes hard against the growing pain in his head as his hand traveled down to his crimson stained and damp shirt. He grimaced as he brought his paint covered metal hand from his shirt and into his view.
"Bark."
"Huh?" Jet said slipping his gaze from his hand to his feet where Ein sat licking his own nose. "So you're back too. Any luck?" Ein cocked his head to the side and stared at Jet. "Well, you aren't in a ditch, that's a plus." Jet released his grip, placed it back on to the black pitchfork, and continued on. His slow pace echoed on in the hall from the hangar bay to the common room, the clunk of the pitchfork hitting along with his feet an added bonus. He put an arm behind his back cracking his aching muscles and joints as he walked. Ein trotted happily beside him, his tongue hanging and wagging wildly with every step.
When Jet entered the common room, he stopped in mid step at the sight before him. His arms fell limp at his side and his head cocked to the side.
Edward lay on the table, her body looking as if someone had just dropped her there. Her thin legs were up on her tomato, the screen glowing an eerie yellow through the slits of her limbs. Her right arm was thrown straight up beside her head hanging off the edge of the table, while the left was hanging off the edge straight off to her side. Her normally white t-shirt was splattered with splotches of brown as was her face. An empty waffle cone lay on the floor beneath her left hand.
Faye Valentine lay sprawled out on the floor, snuggly fit between the ugly yellow sofa and the table. Her head seemed uncomfortably smashed on a small pillow that kept her face from the cold steel below her. Jet noticed the bruise on her eye, even though it was half hidden by the sunglasses that were now askew on her face. One bare foot was up on the sofa, while the other on the cold floor, her boots, Jet noticed with a smirk, were tossed across the room. A brown blanket lay over her torso down to her knees, her arms thrown up by her head. Jet rolled his eyes at the half- assed bandage job done to her left arm, wincing at the amount of wasted tape. The bandage ran from the middle of her upper arm down to the tips of her fingers, and the red marker smiley faces that covered it was a clear sign of who the doctor had been.
Jet snickered as his gaze moved up on to the couch. Spike Spiegel lay half on his stomach, half on his side on top of the yellow sofa. His sock covered feet hung off the arm of the sofa, Faye's one bare foot stopped by his shin. Over his back, acting as a very crappy blanket, was Faye's red sweater. His face was uncomfortably smashed into the yellow vinyl of his "favorite seat", and an unlit cigarette hung from his slightly opened lips. Jet rolled his eyes again and snickered as his eyes landed on the bruise on Spike's face, and the large gash across his forehead, which was half covered by his tie which had been fashioned as a make-shift bandage. Spike's right arm seemed to be trapped under him, while his left hung loosely over the edge of the sofa, his fingers barely touching Faye's shoulder.
"Bark."
"Hush." Jet mumbled as he stepped fully into the common room, setting his lucky pitchfork against the wall. Ein followed on his heels and quickly passed him. Jet once again halted his steps as he watched Ein trot over to the sleeping trio. His eyes widened as the dog passed Ed, stepped over Faye's legs, and jumped up on to the sofa and onto Spike's back. The dog looked over at Jet before snuggling into the red sweater placed over Spike's shoulders and settling in for a nap. For a few minutes Jet just stood there staring at the odd spectacle before him. Then he let out a big yawn and began staggering towards the shower, stopping in front of the door.
"Looks like I get first dibs---" Jet opened the door saying a silent prayer to whatever the hell was up there, and looked in to find the bathroom just as clean as he had left it earlier. "For this," He said as he looked up towards the ceiling. "I owe you one." Jet stepped into the room and stripped off his clothes, grimacing as his paint covered shirt stuck to his chest. He turned the water on and stepped into the steaming water with a grateful moan. His muscles ached and he leaned his head on the cold wall watching the small bit of blood from his mouth turn the water pink. He looked at his hand, and watched as the water cleaned his bleeding and swollen knuckles.
Ok, so it hadn't been as good an idea as he thought, and apparently his crewmates found this out as well. Well, to hell with it. I guess even when you try something new, it turns out just the same as anything else.
After finishing his shower Jet found some clean clothes, grabbed a beer, and staggered slowly into his bonsai room. His retreat. His place to sit and relax and just forget everything that was going on. He set the beer down and then sat down at the table, he put a hand to his throbbing jaw and rolled his eyes.