My Bebop Love Tune

Chapter One By: Captain Scarlet Penguin keeper

Her eyes were foggy with freshly disturbed sleep. Her room wasn't in focus, but it didn't need to be for her to find her way around it. She wasn't sure what had woken her up, but now that she was up, she realized she had to pee.

The Bebop wasn't a hard ship to navigate, even half asleep. As she passed Spike's room on her way to the bathroom, she heard what had made her wake up. Faye paused in front of Spike's door. A low moaning was coming from behind it. Thinking it might be trouble, the lunkhead, after all was not famous for his people skills, she opened the door and went in.

Spike wasn't being assaulted, not physically at least. He slept with jogging pants on, no shirt, and at the moment, his chest was covered with the sheen of sweat. The green hair in a perpetual state of disarray was tangled and matted down. The sheets were tangled around his legs and he seemed to be fighting to free himself.

But that was not what was disturbing. The moaning sound she'd heard was louder with the door open. The cowboy wasn't a cowboy right now. The annoyingly handsome features were distorted in sadness, or pain, or anger, an indefinable emotion.

In his sleep, he couldn't hide behind a cigarette; it was near impossible to smoke in your sleep. They fought on the ship; it was like a joke, their hostility. Sure they withheld a certain dislike for each other, but it was camaraderie, not true dislike. They got each other out of "situations".

To Faye it seemed he was always talking, making sarcastic remarks, and being generally a bastard. It just now occurred to her, that though he talked very much, he actually said, very little.

Faye had fallen into a trance standing there, watching him struggle in his sleep and thinking about him when he was awake. The light from the hall came and fell on his features, throwing into inescapable clarity the foreign look of helplessness on them. She could deal with sarcastic Spike, relatively happy Spike, angry Spike, even injured Spike, but helpless Spike was a stranger, a reclusive cousin that hated the light of day, and so hid behind the others, living off of their emotional leftovers.

Without knowing why, she went forward, not exactly the angel of mercy in her long t-shirt and headband, but not really caring. It wasn't like she was now desperately in love with the sardonic man, but she wanted to see if the face was actually real, in her sensible mind, she knew the chances were slim that it was a mask or something, but, she had to check.

Without his eyes he looked almost normal, like he wasn't constantly in danger or causing others danger. She reached out her hand and touched his cheek; her long nails making a soft rasping noise on the stubble on his cheek.

At her touch, the strange look was replaced by a tense look, one that she knew well, he was defensive now, as the thought passed her brain and she drew back her hand quickly, the eyes, opened, bringing back his personality with their sight.

The one eye she could see wasn't foggy, it was clear and angry, the look of someone who did not like to be disturbed without foreknowledge. She just stared for a minute; he was so different when awake, so closed off. When he saw whom it was his eyebrows crinkled in annoyance, "Can I help you with something?"

Faye snapped out of it, she had to think quickly, the real answer would just not do, not for our dear shrew, "Came to see if you had my book in your room, you'd be the one to take it without asking."

Spike looked over at his clock and turned to her with a look of incredulity on his face, "At 3:15 in the morning Faye?" Faye winced internally but didn't show it, damn clocks, "I couldn't sleep, anyway it's not here, so I'm leaving this hell hole." "Fine, next time, just let it wait until morning." "Not if it makes you unhappy cowboy."

"Bitch"

"Lunkhead"

As his door closed leaving him in utter darkness, Spike's eyelids didn't follow their example. The interruption in his sleep had almost been welcome. When his "rest" was broken, he'd been in the middle of an unhappy situation.

Spike hoped to God that it hadn't shown on his face. If the shrew saw him like that, he'd never hear the end of it. Speaking of which, what had Faye been doing in his room.

He didn't buy the shit about looking for her book. Usually he would've believed it, if it would piss Spike off, he had every faith that Faye would do it. But he'd woken up because somebody had touched him.

He hadn't slept with anyone since Julia. He wasn't the kind for absent sex, and he hadn't been involved with anyone since that day he'd woken and found her gone.

He'd felt fingertips on his cheek. And why the hell had she been leaning over him like that. Spike's mind drifted off of the subject and he unclenched his fingers from around the gun under his pillow.

Spike wouldn't let it bother him, she'd probably been planning some sick joke or something, knowing Faye he didn't put it passed her. So comforted, the lids closed over the eyes that didn't quite match and he went back to sleep.

Faye had lost all real desire to urinate quite a while ago, but she continued on to the bathroom anyway. Bodily functions usually didn't wait for the body's desires.

She flushed the toilet and went into the main room. She sunk into the yellow couch. The yellow couch that so often held a certain lanky cowboy that was either sleeping or injured. It was hard to tell which case occurred more often.

Faye had two problems; the first was her question as to what was in Spike's dreams. The second was, why did she care?

Sure, he was handsome, and yes, despite their... funny relationship, she had lusted after him quite a few times. It didn't really mean anything. It was a simple principle.

After you met Spike, like him or not, you lusted after him. He was tall, lean, and muscular. His features were angular, and sharp with dark eyes that spanned for miles but told nothing. And when he moved, to sit or relax, but especially when he fought, it was fluid, like anything he did, he did as an extension of his psyche. You couldn't help but imagine him as a lover; pleasing thoughts should not be repressed.

But just because he was a nice piece of man flesh, did not change her dislike for certain aspects of his personality. Examples being his constant use of the word shrew in her general direction, his usual readiness with smart-ass comments that didn't help the situation, and his blatant disregard for public property.

Thinking of blatant disregard brought up more questions she didn't think she'd ever ask of herself. His constant near-fatal injury. She was sure it wasn't his skill that was lacking, the bastard, though annoying, was deadly.

Personally, she thought it was his caution that was deficient. Spike always took the risk that was closest to death. Faye didn't quite understand why, but she knew it wasn't bright.

Faye gave up trying to reason out Spike Speigal and the reasons why she was reasoning him out. She got off the yellow couch and went to her room, got in the bed and drifted into a deep sleep, ironically dreamless.