One of the greatest things Spike learned in combat: Be unpredictable at all times.
The lesson flashed through his mind as Faye lit the cigarette. The last cigarette on the Bebop until they reached Jupiter, two days away. She flipped the lighter shut and took a prolonged draw. A smirk of triumph curved her lips as she looked up at the simmering Spike.
Another lesson came to mind, one that went hand in hand with the former: Speed is everything.
A gasp managed to escape Faye's mouth before Spike's lips met hers, his hands holding her gently up against the wall. Rich buttery warmth spread from his kiss all over her body; slowly, she returned it and his arms went around her, making her tremble at their strength.
As suddenly as it had started, Spike released her, breathing hard. He ran a hand over his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles where she had clutched it.
Unable to meet his gaze, Faye lowered her eyes, blushing. When she looked up, Spike was gone.
…come to think of it, so was the cigarette.
Halfway across the ship, Spike leaned against a nearby bulkhead, sweat pouring down his brow. Gingerly, he opened his mouth wide and took out the cigarette. It was pretty much a goner, utterly sodden. He chucked it aside and winced at the pain from his burned cheek. A new scar for a kiss and a soggy smoke, he mused. Well, one out of the three wasn't bad.
"SPIIIKE!" Even as Faye charged after him, a part of her marveled at his nimble, thieving tongue. I gotta start stealing the last cigarette more often…
A/N: I had this banging around in my head for a long time. Kind of disgusting, but rather funny, I thought. R&R please.