A/N: -laughs uncontrollably- You know you've reached an all-time low when you steal from your own stories. A good portion of this story was taken and tweaked from the beginning of my story Requiem, because after rereading it, I realized "Oh my God, what great potential this had; why the hell didn't I just run with it??" So I sincerely apologize for my laziness. Yes, that's what this is. Pure laziness.

Disclaimer: Goddammit, I don't own Trigun. There. Happy?

The pale blond Plant eased his eyes open, letting himself adjust to the light gradually. Sunlight filtered through the single four-paned window, particles of dust drifting about lazily. He let his lids shut. Releasing himself to the simple pleasure of listening to his own heart beat avidly in his ears with little other sound disrupting the perfect rhythm. As alluring as the melody proved to be, he couldn't help but think about the inapt circumstances he found himself in.

Three weeks had passed since the incident in the desert. Since Vash's betrayal. Since his own brother had shot him, wounded him, and then forced him to reside in a spider's dwelling.

The Plant pushed himself up to a reclining position, letting out a groan as pain shot from his shoulders and down his arms. He would not be held captive any longer. With another heave, he managed to force himself into a sitting posture, arms limp in his lap. His hands had gone numb from the throbbing sensation emanating from the gunshots in his upper arms. His head pounded in rhythm with every pulse from his heart. What had sounded so calming to him before now hurt him to hear. With every ache, the Plant felt his weakness.

One more day. That's all he needed. One more day and he would be free from this hell hole.

Coming down the hall, he could hear footsteps approaching the small, Spartan room he was in. They were light, feminine. That woman…the dark haired one. His brother cared so much for her. The way he looked at her; that shine in his eyes when he spoke of her. Enough to nauseate the pale Plant.

The door creaked open, swinging brusquely on rusted hinges. His gaze remained transfixed on the creases and folds of the white bed sheets; he paid her no heed. The petite insurance girl walked into his room briskly, holding in her arms a tray with a cup and saucer, as well as a small teapot. She walked past his bed, so close the Plant could smell lavender and Earl Gray Tea in her wake. With delicate hands, she set the tray down on an end table.

The girl turned her head to look at him, his bare torso outlined in gold by the sunlight. His perfect physique combined with the face of Adonis to craft a creature too perfect to have been made by the hands of God.

The Plant cocked his head and the girl's eyes fell on his. For a brief second they locked, her beautiful violet irises resting on his ice cold ones, before she averted her gaze from embarrassment. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Knives?"

For a while, he said nothing. Then he let out a soft snort. "Do you care?"

Her answer came quickly, a premeditated response to the question that may arise. "Of course."

His eyes narrowed in on her face. "No…you don't. You pretend to care because that's what my brother wants."

She feigned a smile and changed subjects. "It's nice to see you're feeling well enough to sit up today."

And well enough to slit your throat tomorrow. He said nothing, but his twisted smile was enough.

The girl tucked a strand of her short, ebony hair behind her ear. "I've brought you some tea. Vash said you like Earl Gray. Would you like me to pour you a cup?"

"No." The Plant broke his contact with her, returning his gaze to his bed sheets. "Get rid of it."

She rolled her eyes, reaching for the tray, when his hand grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her. "Wait…"

Looking up, she noticed his piercing blue eyes boring into her. "On second thought, maybe I will have a cup."

The girl looked down at her wrist, where he still held onto her. His touch was almost electrifying and completely irresistible. The bright sunlight shone through the window, filtered by the debris on the glass, forming obtuse shapes and designs on the Plant's pale skin and her own. She had begun to feel light-headed. She pulled away from his contact.

A devilish smile played on his lips. "Pour me a cup."

Obediently, she picked up the teacup in one hand and the tea pot in the other, pouring the amber liquid from one to the next in a drunken-like state. She set the tea pot back down and handed the cup to the Plant. He took it lightly, bringing it to his lips and taking a slight sip.

Satisfied, he said almost sardonically. "Thank you…spider."

Waking out of her trance, the girl's cheeks tinged red with anger. "Milly will be up later with your dinner."

She left the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible, but the hinges still managed to find a way to let off a nail-grating squeal.

The pale blond Plant grinned to himself. A wicked thought dawned on him. Turning his hand supine, he began to laugh. Perhaps this could be fun after all.

A/N: Ok, question: should I rate this story M or just exclude the smuttiness? Yes, things will get quasi-graphic, kiddies. Or should that be "semi-graphic"…meh.

Oh yeah, and cookies for all those who review. The chocolate chip kind.

- SiN