Lovers
Tongue tied
And tied to the tongue
Making deals going bad by the dawn
Spike's insides seemed forged from iron.
Drinking, smoking, hail of bullets.
It all passed through him like water.
And food?
He could eat hanging upside down over a pit of waste smelling like five-day-old death if he was hungry.
So what was his problem?
His problem was the three pairs of eyes glaring at him as he leaned over his cup of lemongrass shrimp noodle.
Spike had been sitting here with his chopsticks poised above the steaming ramen noodles for almost five minutes now. He had hoped they would have weakened beneath the weight of his steely gaze. After all, he could stare down just about anyone.
Well.
Except for Faye.
And Jet, Ed and Ein apparently.
Spike feigned loss of interest in the staring contest he was presently losing by exhaling fiercely and rolling his eyes.
"What?" he growled.
Jet's lips twisted into a strange sort of grin, "Idiot," he said.
"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Ed sang.
Ein snuffled and yipped, which Spike assumed also translated into "idiot".
Spike threw his chopsticks down onto the coffee table. He'd lost Faye, the respect of his comrades (he used the term "comrades" loosely just now). Hell, he'd even lost the fucking staring contest.
But there was no goddamn way he was going to lose his dinner.
"She wanted to leave. I couldn't stop her," he snapped defensively.
Jet snorted and looked away.
Spike continued, "I tried, okay? I tried to keep her here. She wasn't having it."
"Not the way you were giving it."
Jet snatched one of the five cigarettes Ed had stuck in her mouth. He put it between his lips then smacked Ed gently upside the head to get her to return the remaining cigarettes to the empty carton laying on the coffee table. When Ed obeyed, Jet pat the flaming foxfire of hair balanced atop the girl's crazy head.
Spike watched, fuming.
"You know what your problem is? You just get too fucking attached to things! Just let her go!"
"You should thank your lucky fucking stars I do, otherwise I'd have fucking left you where I found you!" Jet laughed, leaning back into the armchair and taking a long drag on his cigarette. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Ed and I have a lot of work to do. Unless, of course, you want to help earn your living?" Jet smiled, raising his eyebrows.
Spike stood, stumbling over the corner of the coffee table before stalking up the stairs and disappearing into the corridor.
"Fuck you," he muttered.
"Marvelous!" Spike yelled on entering his room. He'd just realized he still held the container of noodles in his hand but unfortunately the chopsticks were rolling around somewhere on the floor in the other room with Jet.
"Fucking marvelous!"
The noodles stuck to the part of the wall they hit when he threw them. Spike missed this miracle of physics, though, as he blindly paced the confines of his small room before storming back down the corridor and out into the hangar.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered, catching his breath. And then, "where the hell is my ship?"
But of course it wasn't there. It hadn't been there for some time now. He didn't know where it had ended up after his final visit with the Syndicate. He knew that. Of course he knew that.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Spike crumpled against the nearest wall and squeezed his eyes shut hoping that on opening them he'd find he had become the universe's first time traveller, managing to appear some time before his life turned to shit.
You lost that, too.
Faye.
Respect.
The staring contest.
And worse than losing his dinner?
Spike had clearly also lost his mind.
Lyrics quoted from The Jesus and Mary Chain's Halfway To Crazy. Please don't sue.