Julia is laying by Vicious in the dark, his arm is draped a little too tight over her bare middle. Her blonde hair splays across the pillow as she feels Vicious' steady breaths in and out, evenly against the back of her neck. Her finger absently trace a pattern over and over again in his skin. It is like watching someone else's hand trace the pattern of an S into his skin. She stops abruptly.
Well shit.
Slowly Julia builds up her will. She can't keep this up and she refuses to let this keep happening but right now she needs something else. She needs someone else.
With practiced care Julia lifts up Vicious' arm, sliding herself out. It is a process that takes longer than it should but she has to be very careful. It always fascinates her that someone who she had seen shoot and kill so many without a second thought needs such gentle care.
When she is freed, Julia grabs her sweater and pants from the chair where they had been carelessly tossed a few hours earlier. She goes to the hallway to slip them on so as not to risk waking Vicious up before grabbing her keys and slipping outside.
Julia takes the long way, torturing herself. She lights a cigarette and takes a long drag before walking down the quiet streets that weave their way to another man's house.
This is wrong.
She repeats that statement over and over and over, hoping that might get her to turn around and head back home.
It doesn't.
Her heels echo off the buildings as she walks, causing several people who had lingered in the streets to glance up at her. She feels their gazes follow her. She doesn't understand why. She could be anybody. She is anybody. They don't know a damn thing about what they would be getting themselves into and yet…
Julia takes a drag. She found she never understood people.
-
Spike Spiegel takes a swig of whiskey when he hears a knock at his door. He freezes. He knows who it is even without answering and it makes his heart race and his blood run cold.
He was the one that started this. Spike had kissed Julia first. It had escalated quickly from there and honestly the bounty hunter simply thought it would be a drunk one night stand that would cause a few awkward exchanges and a heavy feeling in his chest whenever he saw Vicious for the next few months.
This was not at all what Spike had expected to happen. He had not expected to love her.
When Spike opens the door she is standing there, her hair damp. It must be drizzling. She isn't looking at him but past him, into the apartment.
They don't say a single word as he moves aside and she slips in, letting her jacket fall off and tosses it on a nearby chair.
"Julia." He finally says her name like a prayer. She looks at him, blue eyes disarming him of his defenses. All he wants is to hold her for a few moments.
"You shouldn't be here." He manages. She smiles, looking at his kitchen table distractedly.
"I know." is her quiet reply.
Spike sighs, running his hands through his hair. She rattles him. He's never met a girl quite like this one.
"We have to stop."
She looks up at him, her eyes softening. There's a sense of relief there and Spike realizes she was hoping he would be the morally sound one. She is relying on him to remind her what they're doing is wrong.
"You're right." She says.
Spike watches her carefully, his head and his gut yelling at him to do two completely different things.
Without another word she turns, walking back to the door. Snagging her jacket from the chair, she drapes it over her arm and reaches for the door knob when she feels Spike's arm slip around her waist and his lips against the back of her neck. She closes her eyes.
"I shouldn't have come." She whispers.
"But you did."
"Spike." Julia says his name, her voice calming his racing thoughts. Spike's hands are steady as they turn her around to face him.
This is wrong.
Spike slips his hand under her sweater and Julia helps him tug it over her head and toss it aside. Julia eases his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.
He kisses her forcefully. He is always scared he's going to break her, forgetting how strong she is. She lives in a mans world and does whatever she needs to to survive. That's who she is.
Spike feels her fingers steadily going to unbutton his shirt before pulling him as close as she can get him. He's radiating a heat she can never seem to maintain in her own body. She's always cold and he's always warm. He thaws her icy exterior, makes her smile, reminds her what happiness feels like when it's the warm bubble of laughter in her chest.
Spike set a fire in her.
It's consuming her.