Disclaimer - I do not own Cowboy Bebop. However, I do on Bowcoy Pebob.
::grins::
Chapter 6 - Women, Guns, and Alcohol just don't mix
"The trouble in your head
We're back to back in bed
I couldn't read the tea leaves cuz I've never been well read"
- John Faye Powetrip, "Miscatch 22"
~~~
"Che…" Faye bit her lip in agitation. He was looking at her again, she was
sure of it! Yet, every time she turned her head, his focus was always some
place else. He'd be picking at a hangnail, staring at the TV screen, paging
through the magazine draped across his chest, anything that didn't involve
making eye contact with her.
'What's with him…?' she thought to herself. It had been this way for weeks
straight. She hadn't done anything remotely wrong that she had been aware
of. Sure, they still bickered and fought, went on bounties and all that, but
when it came to lulls like this, the man was insufferably indifferent.
No… indifferent wasn't the right word. There - he was doing it again! Faye
glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye. The look on his face…
she couldn't place it. She'd never seen anyone looking at her that way,
especially not him.
"Hey, Faye."
Spike's gaze flew quickly back to the television screen. Faye sighed inwardly
before turning to the owner of the voice. "Yeah, Jet?"
The ex-cop was giving her a suffering look. "Y'know," he replied evenly, his
eyebrow twitching slightly. "If you're finished with those plates, you can
get'em off the table."
The 'now' that usually followed that sentence was painstakingly left out this
time. Faye really didn't care, though; it was very hard to take someone like
Jet seriously when they were wearing a light pink apron. However, she had
other things on her mind, and decided to submit gracefully.
"You got it, Jet." She stood up, collecting her empty plate. Grabbing
Spike's as an afterthought - he hadn't cleared it, but he didn't object to her
taking it either - she walked into the ship's kitchen area leaving the two men
alone.
"An' don't just leave them there, they don't wash themselves!" Jet called after
her.
"Yes, mom," a voice drawled over his shoulder.
Jet sighed, yanking his apron off as he dropped down into a chair. He
grumbled something about women before glancing at his silent partner.
Slight confusion crossed his features; usually the lanky one would have
added in some sort of insult. He'd found that he'd been like this for quite
some time - it was starting to freak him out. "What's up with you?"
Hidden behind the magazine's cover came the muffled reply, "Reading."
The ex-cop eyed him dubiously. Mars' 'Home and Garden' just didn't seem
like something the lanky bounty hunter would be interested in. "Really…?
Finding it a good read?"
Peeking over the top edge, a pair of auburn eyes gave him a dry look.
"There's an article in here about bonsai maintenance," he responded lightly.
"You might find it interesting."
"Thanks, but I already read it," he replied, snatching it away to toss it on the
table. "So, what's eating you?"
Spike folded his arms behind his head, shrugging nonchalantly. "Nothin',"
"Come on, Spike," Jet prodded. "I normally wouldn't prod about this, but
somethin's up - I know it. So, why don't you just come clean." There was
silence. "Don't tell me it's woman troubles."
The green haired bounty hunter tensed slightly. "I guess you could say
something like that."
Jet blinked in surprise. "Really?" It appeared he knew the ex-gangster
better than he thought. "So, I take it you met somebody."
Spike sat up, scratching his head absently. The old sonuvagun was still as
sharp as ever, he noted with some resentment. His eyes crossed slightly in
frustration. Damn… how could he have let something like this happen…?
Hadn't he learned his lesson yet?
Spike had met someone - not usually something to make a big fuss over.
However, noting the look of partially concealed distress on his partner's face,
Jet frowned slightly. So, this was serious, huh? "I take it you've fallen for
her hard, huh?" he asked.
Auburn eyes regarded him seriously, looking almost like a caged animal's.
"Lock, stock, and barrel."
Somewhere off in the kitchen, a plate dropped and shattered.
~~~
A fist full of woolongs hit the table with a slam, the bills clenched tightly
within a shaking fist. A bartender looked up from the glass he was currently
wiping clean with a look of curiosity on his face.
His eyes lit up in surprise. Standing before him was a complete knockout;
this woman was gorgeous! Full, red lips, creamy smooth skin, a trim
curvaceous body… she had to be an angel in disguise! That, or a devil
ready to take his soul. Oh well...
"So, what can I do for ya, mis-," He trailed off, looking at her face. She was
more beautiful up close, yes - but she had the saddest green eyes he had
ever seen.
"A shot of scotch," she replied softly, releasing the fistful of money. The
coins rattled on the bar's surface before coming to a stop.
He glanced at the clock - it was a bit early for happy hour. His gaze went
back to his current customer; the girl was dressed plainly in a sweater and
a pair of tight-fitting jeans. Aside from her looks, she looked complete
ordinary - except for that look on her face. It was almost as if someone
had told her the world had ended.
"One scotch, coming right up, miss." He then set to work, setting a glass
in front of her.
She didn't respond after that, watching only the liquid run into her glass.
Once filled, she picked it up, tossing it back in one gulp. She didn't even
flinch.
"Well, now," the bartender awed. "You look as though you can hold your
liquor."
"Yeah, I'm a tough broad," she answered roughly. "I'm not the kind of girl
you take home to mother."
The bartender smirked wryly. "My mom's been dead now near 10 years," he
replied lightly. "Though she could knock'em back just like you just did."
The woman snorted lightly, a dark grin forming on her heart-shaped face.
"Really now?"
"Yeah, she was somethin'," the bartender replied wistfully. "Didn't take crap
from nobody - that she didn't. She could tangle with the best of 'em and then
come back and make one helluva pot roast for us boys at home." He
chuckled in remembrance. "It's just a shame my old man didn't
appreciate'er for what she was - walked out on her an' the rest of us when I
was 14."
A wry chuckle came forth. "That just goes to show ya," Another woolong
slammed down on the counter. "Men are pigs."
The bartender smirked lightly. So that's how it was, huh? Being beautiful
had it's price, he supposed; the one's who had a brain on their shoulders got
treated just like the rest of the lot. "What'sa matter, your man doggin' ya?"
"He's not mine," Her expression darkened slightly. "He never was mine…
never will be."
~~~
Spike dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. He'd searched every
casino in a 15-mile radius and still hadn't come up with anything.
'Damn it… where could that shrew of a woman have gotten to…?' he frowned
to himself. She'd gotten up and left the ship without a word to anyone.
Normally, when she'd gotten fed up she'd leave some sort of sappy,
dramatic note declaring that she'd never return - only to show up a day or
two later with empty pockets and a busted up zipcraft.
Spike stopped in his tracks. "Does this mean that she's not coming
back…?" he wondered out loud.
But why? It just didn't make any sense. Things had been going on like
usual; an argument here or there, but nothing that would make her want to
leave. He couldn't understand it… hadn't things gotten back to normal
between them?
~ Maybe that's it…~ that awful little noise nagged. ~ You're back to
normal… a clean bill of health… no more injuries to speak of…~
A frown crossed the bounty hunter's features, his auburn eyes scanning
the crowds of people on the street around him. There was still no sign of
her. 'Yeah… so?'
~ Now that you're all healed… what more reason did she have to stay? ~
He growled in frustration, shoving that nagging little voice down with a
mental punch to the jaw. 'Shit… when did I get to be so frickin' insecure…?'
He scanned the area once again. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to call Jet
to see if she came back yet…" He patted his pockets only to find that he
was lacking his communicator. A sweatdrop formed on the back of his
head.
'Shit… must've left it on the ship… need phone…' He spied a bar across
the street and headed there, hoping to find a phone he could use.
~ Along with a couple drinks to soothe your broken heart…~
'Shut. UP.'
~End of Chapter 6
Author's Notes -
Well, hoped you liked Chapter 6. Sorry I haven't updated in a while,
working on Don't You Dare with Miss Chang Po has been taking up a lot
of my focus recently. (Go read and review!) Plus, the idea had worked
up for this fic changed a bit seeing how the events were playing themselves
out. But, I suppose that's what happens when a fic takes on a mind of its
own.
But anyways, I like mixing things up a bit, so expect to find a bit more
humor interspersed here and there... (what genre did I put this under again..?)
Don't worry, it's still a FxS romance, albeit a slow one... rest assured you
won't be displeased.
And also, I haven't decided when, but I have started work on the sequel to
'That's Why They Call it the Blues', entitled 'Another Burnt-out Star'. The
title may need a little work, but if you have any suggestions, send'em my
way.
What else was I gonna say... hm... oh yeah! Thanks for all the awesome
reviews you guys have sent! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying my
work. ::sniffles:: Reviews make me so happy...
Oh yeah, and before I go, if Ama Arcus happens to be reading this,
UNMEI!
Remember the three R's of Fanfiction, everyone! =)
::grins::
Chapter 6 - Women, Guns, and Alcohol just don't mix
"The trouble in your head
We're back to back in bed
I couldn't read the tea leaves cuz I've never been well read"
- John Faye Powetrip, "Miscatch 22"
~~~
"Che…" Faye bit her lip in agitation. He was looking at her again, she was
sure of it! Yet, every time she turned her head, his focus was always some
place else. He'd be picking at a hangnail, staring at the TV screen, paging
through the magazine draped across his chest, anything that didn't involve
making eye contact with her.
'What's with him…?' she thought to herself. It had been this way for weeks
straight. She hadn't done anything remotely wrong that she had been aware
of. Sure, they still bickered and fought, went on bounties and all that, but
when it came to lulls like this, the man was insufferably indifferent.
No… indifferent wasn't the right word. There - he was doing it again! Faye
glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye. The look on his face…
she couldn't place it. She'd never seen anyone looking at her that way,
especially not him.
"Hey, Faye."
Spike's gaze flew quickly back to the television screen. Faye sighed inwardly
before turning to the owner of the voice. "Yeah, Jet?"
The ex-cop was giving her a suffering look. "Y'know," he replied evenly, his
eyebrow twitching slightly. "If you're finished with those plates, you can
get'em off the table."
The 'now' that usually followed that sentence was painstakingly left out this
time. Faye really didn't care, though; it was very hard to take someone like
Jet seriously when they were wearing a light pink apron. However, she had
other things on her mind, and decided to submit gracefully.
"You got it, Jet." She stood up, collecting her empty plate. Grabbing
Spike's as an afterthought - he hadn't cleared it, but he didn't object to her
taking it either - she walked into the ship's kitchen area leaving the two men
alone.
"An' don't just leave them there, they don't wash themselves!" Jet called after
her.
"Yes, mom," a voice drawled over his shoulder.
Jet sighed, yanking his apron off as he dropped down into a chair. He
grumbled something about women before glancing at his silent partner.
Slight confusion crossed his features; usually the lanky one would have
added in some sort of insult. He'd found that he'd been like this for quite
some time - it was starting to freak him out. "What's up with you?"
Hidden behind the magazine's cover came the muffled reply, "Reading."
The ex-cop eyed him dubiously. Mars' 'Home and Garden' just didn't seem
like something the lanky bounty hunter would be interested in. "Really…?
Finding it a good read?"
Peeking over the top edge, a pair of auburn eyes gave him a dry look.
"There's an article in here about bonsai maintenance," he responded lightly.
"You might find it interesting."
"Thanks, but I already read it," he replied, snatching it away to toss it on the
table. "So, what's eating you?"
Spike folded his arms behind his head, shrugging nonchalantly. "Nothin',"
"Come on, Spike," Jet prodded. "I normally wouldn't prod about this, but
somethin's up - I know it. So, why don't you just come clean." There was
silence. "Don't tell me it's woman troubles."
The green haired bounty hunter tensed slightly. "I guess you could say
something like that."
Jet blinked in surprise. "Really?" It appeared he knew the ex-gangster
better than he thought. "So, I take it you met somebody."
Spike sat up, scratching his head absently. The old sonuvagun was still as
sharp as ever, he noted with some resentment. His eyes crossed slightly in
frustration. Damn… how could he have let something like this happen…?
Hadn't he learned his lesson yet?
Spike had met someone - not usually something to make a big fuss over.
However, noting the look of partially concealed distress on his partner's face,
Jet frowned slightly. So, this was serious, huh? "I take it you've fallen for
her hard, huh?" he asked.
Auburn eyes regarded him seriously, looking almost like a caged animal's.
"Lock, stock, and barrel."
Somewhere off in the kitchen, a plate dropped and shattered.
~~~
A fist full of woolongs hit the table with a slam, the bills clenched tightly
within a shaking fist. A bartender looked up from the glass he was currently
wiping clean with a look of curiosity on his face.
His eyes lit up in surprise. Standing before him was a complete knockout;
this woman was gorgeous! Full, red lips, creamy smooth skin, a trim
curvaceous body… she had to be an angel in disguise! That, or a devil
ready to take his soul. Oh well...
"So, what can I do for ya, mis-," He trailed off, looking at her face. She was
more beautiful up close, yes - but she had the saddest green eyes he had
ever seen.
"A shot of scotch," she replied softly, releasing the fistful of money. The
coins rattled on the bar's surface before coming to a stop.
He glanced at the clock - it was a bit early for happy hour. His gaze went
back to his current customer; the girl was dressed plainly in a sweater and
a pair of tight-fitting jeans. Aside from her looks, she looked complete
ordinary - except for that look on her face. It was almost as if someone
had told her the world had ended.
"One scotch, coming right up, miss." He then set to work, setting a glass
in front of her.
She didn't respond after that, watching only the liquid run into her glass.
Once filled, she picked it up, tossing it back in one gulp. She didn't even
flinch.
"Well, now," the bartender awed. "You look as though you can hold your
liquor."
"Yeah, I'm a tough broad," she answered roughly. "I'm not the kind of girl
you take home to mother."
The bartender smirked wryly. "My mom's been dead now near 10 years," he
replied lightly. "Though she could knock'em back just like you just did."
The woman snorted lightly, a dark grin forming on her heart-shaped face.
"Really now?"
"Yeah, she was somethin'," the bartender replied wistfully. "Didn't take crap
from nobody - that she didn't. She could tangle with the best of 'em and then
come back and make one helluva pot roast for us boys at home." He
chuckled in remembrance. "It's just a shame my old man didn't
appreciate'er for what she was - walked out on her an' the rest of us when I
was 14."
A wry chuckle came forth. "That just goes to show ya," Another woolong
slammed down on the counter. "Men are pigs."
The bartender smirked lightly. So that's how it was, huh? Being beautiful
had it's price, he supposed; the one's who had a brain on their shoulders got
treated just like the rest of the lot. "What'sa matter, your man doggin' ya?"
"He's not mine," Her expression darkened slightly. "He never was mine…
never will be."
~~~
Spike dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. He'd searched every
casino in a 15-mile radius and still hadn't come up with anything.
'Damn it… where could that shrew of a woman have gotten to…?' he frowned
to himself. She'd gotten up and left the ship without a word to anyone.
Normally, when she'd gotten fed up she'd leave some sort of sappy,
dramatic note declaring that she'd never return - only to show up a day or
two later with empty pockets and a busted up zipcraft.
Spike stopped in his tracks. "Does this mean that she's not coming
back…?" he wondered out loud.
But why? It just didn't make any sense. Things had been going on like
usual; an argument here or there, but nothing that would make her want to
leave. He couldn't understand it… hadn't things gotten back to normal
between them?
~ Maybe that's it…~ that awful little noise nagged. ~ You're back to
normal… a clean bill of health… no more injuries to speak of…~
A frown crossed the bounty hunter's features, his auburn eyes scanning
the crowds of people on the street around him. There was still no sign of
her. 'Yeah… so?'
~ Now that you're all healed… what more reason did she have to stay? ~
He growled in frustration, shoving that nagging little voice down with a
mental punch to the jaw. 'Shit… when did I get to be so frickin' insecure…?'
He scanned the area once again. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to call Jet
to see if she came back yet…" He patted his pockets only to find that he
was lacking his communicator. A sweatdrop formed on the back of his
head.
'Shit… must've left it on the ship… need phone…' He spied a bar across
the street and headed there, hoping to find a phone he could use.
~ Along with a couple drinks to soothe your broken heart…~
'Shut. UP.'
~End of Chapter 6
Author's Notes -
Well, hoped you liked Chapter 6. Sorry I haven't updated in a while,
working on Don't You Dare with Miss Chang Po has been taking up a lot
of my focus recently. (Go read and review!) Plus, the idea had worked
up for this fic changed a bit seeing how the events were playing themselves
out. But, I suppose that's what happens when a fic takes on a mind of its
own.
But anyways, I like mixing things up a bit, so expect to find a bit more
humor interspersed here and there... (what genre did I put this under again..?)
Don't worry, it's still a FxS romance, albeit a slow one... rest assured you
won't be displeased.
And also, I haven't decided when, but I have started work on the sequel to
'That's Why They Call it the Blues', entitled 'Another Burnt-out Star'. The
title may need a little work, but if you have any suggestions, send'em my
way.
What else was I gonna say... hm... oh yeah! Thanks for all the awesome
reviews you guys have sent! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying my
work. ::sniffles:: Reviews make me so happy...
Oh yeah, and before I go, if Ama Arcus happens to be reading this,
UNMEI!
Remember the three R's of Fanfiction, everyone! =)