Jet's chin impacted with his chest, and he started awake. He'd been dozing for who knows how long. The pot he had been watering had run over, and the watering can was empty. Jet groaned and stretched. His arm was creaking a bit. Might want to get that oiled.
Jet came into the main room and found Spike asleep on the couch. He was sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking position, legs splayed, hands by his mouth. His jacket had been unbuttoned, and his tie lay in curls on the floor. Stray tangles of hair curled about his eyes. His lips were parted, and his eyelids twitched, now & then, deep in some dream.
*he's such a kid,* thought Jet. All Spike's guile and pain dropped away when he slept. Jet watched him, drawn into a reverie by the even way his chest rose & fell.
In that moment, Spike's eyes opened. A look of confusion passed across his face, as he saw Jet, saw him turn his face away and redden. Then he slipped into an ironic smile, that old familiar posture of his.
"Catching the matinee? There's shows at 5, 7, and 11, you know."
Jet looked down and crossed his arms.
Spike tried again. "Hey, if you're that bored, maybe you should get a dog, huh?"
Silence.
"Jet..."
Jet turned his back and stalked off, decisively. He passed through the rooms of the ship, as if in a dream. Just keep walking. Eventually he came to the circular hallway in the center of the ship, its floor curving off into darkness. Spike was waiting for him there.
"Where are you going to?"
Jet turned away again, embarrassed. "I don't know."
For a long time, nothing could be heard but the white-noise roar of the engine.
Spike moved silently, drawing behind Jet. He reached out to caress his left bicep. Jet gasped. Spike moved his fingers lower, running his fingers along the grooves in the metal.
"You can't feel this," he whispered, a little question in his voice.
"I feel..." He moved to cover Spike's hand with his own. "I feel..."
Jet came into the main room and found Spike asleep on the couch. He was sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking position, legs splayed, hands by his mouth. His jacket had been unbuttoned, and his tie lay in curls on the floor. Stray tangles of hair curled about his eyes. His lips were parted, and his eyelids twitched, now & then, deep in some dream.
*he's such a kid,* thought Jet. All Spike's guile and pain dropped away when he slept. Jet watched him, drawn into a reverie by the even way his chest rose & fell.
In that moment, Spike's eyes opened. A look of confusion passed across his face, as he saw Jet, saw him turn his face away and redden. Then he slipped into an ironic smile, that old familiar posture of his.
"Catching the matinee? There's shows at 5, 7, and 11, you know."
Jet looked down and crossed his arms.
Spike tried again. "Hey, if you're that bored, maybe you should get a dog, huh?"
Silence.
"Jet..."
Jet turned his back and stalked off, decisively. He passed through the rooms of the ship, as if in a dream. Just keep walking. Eventually he came to the circular hallway in the center of the ship, its floor curving off into darkness. Spike was waiting for him there.
"Where are you going to?"
Jet turned away again, embarrassed. "I don't know."
For a long time, nothing could be heard but the white-noise roar of the engine.
Spike moved silently, drawing behind Jet. He reached out to caress his left bicep. Jet gasped. Spike moved his fingers lower, running his fingers along the grooves in the metal.
"You can't feel this," he whispered, a little question in his voice.
"I feel..." He moved to cover Spike's hand with his own. "I feel..."