a/n: hello, hello. i've resurfaced once again and offer you this little semi-oneshot. this is more like 'prayer for the dying' that i did a couple years back. i really meant for this to be a short, sweet thing, but it took over and insisted on becoming 29 pages long...things never go as planned. but in order to keep you from having to read 29 pages straight, i've broken this down into 4 parts, all revolving around lyrics from the song 'attitude' by alien ant farm. i really hope you'll read and enjoy and review to let me know how it goes. the standard no flame plea is in effect. thank you. and thanks for sticking with me and giving my stuff a looksie, even when i only offer you meager scraps. it means a lot! now on with the fic!
oh, and yeah, i don't own bebop or this song. so please, don't sue.
part one, something to get you started.
Maybe I act on confused behavior…
Fingers splayed over a taut, sweat-slicked stomach as a bare, feminine leg wrapped around a narrow, masculine waist. Dusty, dank light filtered through the semi-closed slats in the window, illuminating body parts as they twisted and flexed in an effort to be both closer and further away from one another. Breath from open lips mingled in the space between, impatient hands raked through green and violets locks.
Leaning in for kisses that were neither wanted nor rejected, tongues dueled for supremacy and no one was keen on backing down. Settling for revolving dominance, the contact deepened until one broke away in a fiery trail that ended with soft bites to an ambiguous collar bone. As a groan was elicited from the hard, male body, a smirk rose to the faded red lips of the female doing the biting. She knew that secondary erogenous zone always took him by surprise.
Spun and pinned against the wall in motions almost to fast to be human, the woman felt a nipping at the space between her neck and shoulder. The tale-tell smirk she felt easily suggested that two could – and would play at this game. As a groan reluctantly escaped from her lips, the man once again pulled her leg, smooth as silk, up over his hip and then repeated the motion with the other.
Breaking contact with her skin, two mismatched eyes focused intently on the jade ones staring back at him. Of all the guilty pleasures, and in this one act alone there were many, he would never miss the look on her face when he entered her. Whether the look was natural or deliberate, the girl was never one to disappoint.
Maybe waves crash like semi-trailer.
If it were possible, the small room they were occupying rose even higher in degrees. Orbiting near Venus and on a ship with busted A/C made for hot enough conditions. Adding in body heat and friction made the space near scorching. But neither adult really seemed to notice. That simply wasn't the focal point of their current activities.
They knew by now how to interact in various situations. Full ship – keep quiet. Just the man – keep it down. Just the girl – distract her and keep it down. Empty ship – no holds barred. They both much preferred no holds barred. Between his grunts and her moans, it wouldn't be hard to figure out what was transpiring in the little room, but if a tree falls in a forest, right? And guilty pleasure number 2 or 10 or who the hell cares, he loved to hear her moan. Maybe it was male pride, or maybe it was something else, but listening to her say – near scream his name always gave the experience an extra jolt of something good.
An afternoon of empty ship conditions meant her climax echoed throughout the space craft. At least next to his ear, he would figure her voice could carry that far. It wasn't as if he wasn't loud enough in his own right, it just wasn't like what her lung capacity could provide.
Letting a leg slip down to the floor, his face rested in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her and him. Her head was back against the wall, eyes closed and mouth agape. Soft fingers loosely clutched onto his back as he evened his breathing. Strong hands kept her pinned to the wall. She'd move only when he allowed it. It's how it almost always happened. She rarely complained about it.
Maybe I'll spend my off time without you…
Finally back to even breathing and feeling a sudden chill pass over their still damp flesh, they disengaged and repelled from one another almost like opposite ends of a magnet. Turning his back to the woman, the man made his way over to a dresser and the box of cigarettes that lay in wait. Sticking two in his mouth and lightening them simultaneously, he strolled back over and dared her to take one. Eyeing him with the same mix of appreciation, appreciation, and disdain that was reflected in his stare, she plucked the left one from the corner of his mouth and invited the smoke into her lungs.
Still leaning on the wall, she crossed her arms, unashamed of her naked state and watched him take a seat on the bed, just as unashamedly naked as she. They stayed that way for several minutes, steeped in the silence the filled the now smoke-hazed room. Judging by the way the shadows stretched lazily over the floor it was nearing late afternoon. What time were the man and the kid supposed to return?
"Jet and Ed are supposed to be back around five," his rough voice broke through the stillness.
Ask and you shall receive was the first thought that popped up in her mind. She knew it was true and sought out the clock on his night stand and quickly read the time. Four thirty seven. She had time to shower off the smell, get dressed, and leave before they got back. She wasn't sure if any of those options pleased her, though.
"You gonna grab your stuff or should I?"
"Always the gentleman, aren't you," was the first audible words she'd said in the last half hour.
"You know how it goes, Faye."
"Yeah, I know Spike," she bit back a little more than she'd meant to. She'd come to expect it by now, but such a careless tone after such a careful act never failed to irritate her, though she couldn't quite place why.
Deciding the fight wasn't worth it since the situation in general was a lost cause, Faye, only half way through her cigarette, dashed it into the one of many ashtrays in the room. She began to sift through the clothes and the junk littered on the cold floor, tossing clothes at him as she gathered her own. As a random though, she wondered how the floor could be so cold when the ship clearly was not. Then she wondered why she always had random thoughts at moments like this.
"We don't have to keep doing this, you know," his voice wafted through the air again.
"Yeah, I know."
"Then why do we?"
There was a thick weight hanging over the room now with the utterance of that simple question. Why did they keep doing this? How in the hell did this even start?
"I guess we just haven't found a good enough reason to stop," was Faye's simple reply.
Spike looked up at her then and watched as she eased out of the door. She rarely opened it all the way. She did weird things like that. The door slid closed again and he turned his gaze back to the floor between his feet. Taking a long drag off his cig, he sighed out the smoke.
It seems like we need our own space.
And all this time I wasted away;
Deciding that a shower was probably a good idea after all, Faye found herself in the bathroom and her soiled clothes in the hamper. Adjusting the water to hot but not scalding, she stepped into the cascade and washed the most recent memories off of her. Letting the water slip over her form, she rested a hand on the wall in front of her and the other at the base of her neck.
Maybe it was the masochist in her, or perhaps it was the fatalist, but she often wondered what it would feel like to feel his fingers clench ever so slightly around her delicate throat. God knows she'd never admit to it, though. For all she knew, he just might do it. Even worse, he might even like it.
It often felt like a waste of time to Faye, trying to fill some need for her…some need for him. She was never truly satisfied. She wouldn't deny that the sex was great. It was. It was really great. But she was never satisfied. And she had a feeling that neither was he. Somehow she rationalized that that was why they always came back to each other this way. In hopes that this would be the time when whatever hole they were trying to fill would finally seal up. In hopes that this would really be the last time.
To not feel good unless you stay, stay, stay.
Finally rising from the bed, Spike slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Padding out of the room barefoot, he made his way to the deck. There was no point in showering just yet. It was still early in the day and he'd yet to work out. Well…that wasn't entirely true, but sticks and stones.
Arriving to his destination, he warmed up with a few hits to the punching bag that hung listlessly from the ceiling. It wasn't long before another sheen of sweat began to build up over his body. Considering the temperature on the ship at the moment, it was a wonder that all of the ships inhabitants weren't perpetually drenched.
Breaking away from the bag, Spike posed himself and began to run through moves that he knew so well. He thrust a fist to the left and faked a kick to the right. Dropping to the floor, he swept his right foot back, spun on his toes and sprung up again. Almost immediately he launched into a roundhouse kick followed by a series of jabs and lazy punches that were meant to take the enemy's energy without wasting any of his own. To watch him was like seeing poetry in motion, as cliché a phrase it may be. But there was no way to deny that he could master the moves his body made so effortlessly. Those moves were one of the few things he could control, and he held on to that fiercely.
He found that he could execute these moves in practice flawlessly after he'd been with Faye. In real combat, he was still just as good. There was something about the shrew that kept the blood pumping through his veins the way it did. He figured it was simply due to sheer want. Want to work her out of his system. No matter how hard he tried, she refused to be done away with so easily.
And all this time I chased you away,
"Hey! We got the parts! We'll be breakin' out the parkas in no time!"
The boisterous shouting could come from no one else but Jet. Upon entering his beloved ship, he quickly took stock and noticed a definite lack of crew. But with both MONOs parked and nearly gathering dust in the hangar, he figured that the other shipmates were merely busying themselves in an effort to keep from being contracted to help in repairs. That or they were too busying fucking. Jet knew those two too well and knew that as of late, the thick sexual tension of the ship had fizzled to a dull pressure.
He also knew that no good would come of this most recent development, either. Spike was too far gone and trying too hard to pretend like he wasn't and Faye was far too…Faye. Maybe if they had waited or maybe if they had done it earlier, then maybe…but not now. He really wanted to be wrong, but Spike and Faye continuously seemed to prove him right.
"Damn kids and their hormones," he muttered as he dropped the box of parts on the kitchen table.
The original plan was to get working on the A/C as soon as he got home, but finding the ship so quiet made him tired for some reason. That and he'd rather have them come to him, instead of letting Ed wander the ship and possibly walk in on things that no fourteen year old should.
"Jet-person," Ed drawled out lazily.
"What, Ed?"
"Ed is hot. And Ed is tired."
"Then go take a nap on the couch. I'll get it cooled down soon enough."
It wasn't the first time Ed had complained today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. For a total of four days, the air had been out and along with the adults, Ed was complaining just as much, if not more. Faye had explained it simply, since she was never one to put things delicately.
"Ed is having her period. Ed is having cramps. Cramps make you tired. Hot makes you irritable. Therefore Ed is hot, irritable, on her period, and cramping. Trust me, by the very fact that she's not tearing the ship apart, count yourself lucky."
Jet shook his head at the thought. How in the hell was he supposed to survive on a ship, in space no less, with not one but two females that did…female things? Throw in a guy who sometimes acted just like he was PMSing, as Faye often put it, and Jet was practically living in an environment brimming with estrogen.
"Why aren't you fixing it yet?"
Jet looked up then as Spike entered the room. A towel was wrapped around his waist, sitting low, and his usual mop of hair was laying a closer to his head. He ambled over to the fridge and grabbed a beer then turned his attention back to the older man.
"Well?"
"I just wanted to know where you and the woman were before I got started."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Spike asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Exactly what it sounds like," Jet wasn't mincing words. "Where is she, anyway?"
"Hell if I know. I'm not her keeper; I don't care where she is."
Simply to catch back up with...
"I'd rather die than have you "keep" me," Faye easily threw out as she too entered the kitchen.
Opting for the cabinet instead, she grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She was now dressed in jean shorts and a blue tank, a far cry from her attire just a few months ago. In between Spike's departure and miraculous resurgence, Faye had taken Jet's advice for once, and ditched the vinyl for something a little less…slutty. She felt it was the least she could do for the old man, considering everything that was happening at the time. Faye was never one for pity but she did know how to throw a dog a bone every now and again.
Jet leaned back on the counter and watched how Spike and Faye tried so hard to ignore each other. He had a good idea as to what was going on while he was out. They were always more aggressive towards each other after, so he'd come to notice. But he wasn't going to bring it up if they weren't.
"Why aren't you fixing the air yet?" Faye asked as she gulped almost hungrily at the water.
"Here's a question: why aren't either of you fixing the air?" Jet tossed back at them. "You two are some damn ungrateful. Always think someone's gonna do all the dirty work for you."
"Geez, Jet, just asking," Faye said, hands up in mock surrender. "Don't get you frilly little panties all up in a bunch."
Sighing and knowing there was no way to win this round, Jet went to the box of parts and started rummaging around.
"Anyone wanna help me?" He asked, putting some wires on the table.
As expected, he got no answer.
"Did you two ever hear the story about the hen who wanted to bake some bread, so she cut the wheat, ground it up, and baked the bread all by herself? And she asked a dog and a cat and a pig to help her, but they were all too "busy" and in the end, when the bread was done, they came out of the woodwork to get some bread, but the hen refused to feed them since they didn't help?"
"…So…you're calling Faye fat?" Spike asked with a devilish grin on his face.
"…Shit," Jet muttered, knowing this wouldn't end well. He had just meant to impart a little life lesson on those two, honest.
"Well, I guess I'd rather be a pig than a big, fat pussy," Faye responded in a dulcet tone.
"Fuck you, Faye," was the eloquent response.
"Twice in one day? I didn't know you had it in you."
"…Double shit," Jet muttered. That was the first time any actual acknowledgment of their "adult games" was made. And in front of him no less. He began to put the wires back in the box, quick to make an exit.
"I'm not gonna fight with you, Faye. What's the point of that? Besides, as far as I can see it, you just a jealous bitch. And you know that every time we fuck, every single God damn time, I'm never thinking of you. And I never will."
The phrase "triple shit" wouldn't have been enough to describe the look on the woman's face. Maybe "one hundred shit", but not just three. To try and describe the look, you might take crushing disappointment with flat out rage sprinkled with stone cold truth and that might be reminiscent of how Faye appeared
"You can try and fuck a ghost all you want to, shithead, but it'll always be me screaming you name."
That, followed by a well-timed smack to Spike's face, Faye hurried out of the kitchen and predictably, out to her ship.
Shaking his head and grabbing the box, Jet started out for the Control Room to finally go fix the A/C. On his way out, though, he added in his two cents. He would always add them.
"Go get her."
"…What?" Spike asked, truly unsure of what he'd heard.
"I've known for a while, what you two have been doing. And I've dealt with it. But you're playing with fire; you both are. You guys can sort things out later but as for right now go.get.her."
It wasn't a suggestion; it wasn't even a favor being asked. It was a demand and no matter how much Spike would want to ignore it, he'd have to give in eventually. If he left now, she wouldn't be too far away.
"Fuck."
so, that's the first bit. stay tuned for more! oh, and if there are typos, please forgive me. if there's illogical sentences, please tell me. i'm my own beta and i'm probably terrible/rusty at it. and that extends to all chapters. gracias.