As always, although I much wish that I did, I do not own Cowboy Bebop's characters, nor will I ever (although I own the DVDs). Hope you like my story, which I do own!

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Chapter 4: Skip, Shuffle, Switch.

"Ed cannot feel faaaace." The lanky redhead stumbled and giggled her way down the street, curiously eyeballing the burning stump of a cigarette in her fingers before taking a drag off it.
"Ey, Spike. How much did she drink?"
"A fuzzy navel, half a daiquiri, and I don't know what."
"Did you give her a cigarette?"
"No, she pick pocketed me...of course I did. She asked."
"Spike, she's drunk. Don't get her started."
"It won't hurt her, if it's one night."
"Hmph."
"Oh, hmph yourself old man. Let the kid have fun on her birthday." Spike smiled quietly. Ed hadn't changed much in the time since he'd returned to the Bebop. She was a little quieter, a little more thoughtful, but not that much. He was just glad she didn't howl out songs in the middle of the night anymore. God, he was thankful for teenage hormones making her sleep late into the afternoon like a regular human being. In fact...she turned out to be a pretty good kid. Sure, far, FAR odder than most, but she was basically like an insane little sister. God, I'm turning into a sappy old man. Since when have I considered anyone to be family?
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"Yo." "Who is this?" Jet squinted suspiciously at the comm. whoever it was they sounded a lot like a dead man. Too bad it was dark and he couldn't see them.
"What, old man, don't you know me?" A sideways smile came into view, along with a pointed nose and some fuzzy greenish hair.
"SPIKE?! Jesus. Weren't you supposed to go off and...die? Where the fuck have you been for two years, while we MOURNED you?" Jet knew he shouldn't be angry with Spike for surviving, but dammit, Spike should've said something sooner.
"I've been in and out of a coma, been beaten up, been beating people up, and generally causing trouble on my way to find you. Creditors are such bastards. Now I know why Faye went on the run." The 'man-who-should-be-a-ghost' scratched the back of his head, and lit a cigarette. "How is our shrew, anyway?"
"Bitchy. She's been much quieter since you left. It shook her up bad. She recovered fast though. Faster than me, but you knew me longer." Jet shook his head, the shock of it all finally hitting him. "FUCK, Spike. Just...FUCK! This is so goddamn surreal. I'm not even sure I'm not making this shit up to try and bring you back to life." Jet ran his hand over his head and leaned away from the screen.
"Who're you yelling at on the comm?" Faye asked, sauntering into the room, tailed by Ed and a weary looking Ein.
"You'll never believe me."
"Right. So Spike's on."
"Got it in one."
"You're fucking me."
"Thankfully, no."
"Shut your face, old man. Hey, lunkhead!" she called teasingly, not believing Jet.
"Shrew-woman!" Spike called, hearing her voice.
"Told you it was Spike. The little shit's still up and running."
"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to make sure he's dead. This time, he will die." Faye's eyebrow twitched ominously.
"SPIKE PERSON IS OKAY!" Ed jubilantly threw Ein up into the air, who whined at his treatment.
Jet turned back to the comm. "Well, you sure made a grand fucking entrance, didn't you. What are you coming back to the living for?"
"A bounty too big for my own mitts for once."
Jet sighed. It looked like the Bebop was back in business.
Oh sure, it took a while for everything to sink in. Faye yelled and screamed and cried and threw stuff, while Jet sniffled and growled and furtively trimmed his bonsai to little stumps as soon as Spike stepped on board, but he didn't care. He had his room back (Jet never had the heart to get rid of everything, minus what random garbage was lurking in there, and some stashed alcohol and ramen), and he had a verbal sparring partner again; he realized he missed those battles. Ed was just as insane, but for once, he kind of liked it. He realized that she kept him on his toes. Ein...well he still didn't like dogs. The food was free, the couch was squishy, and the Bebop was finally whole again. He realized that life wasn't so bad after all. Dreaming was the hard part.
"You ever going to tell us the whole story?" Faye asked him one evening, after a particularly satisfying round of bloodletting.
"You ever going to wear normal clothing?"
"Bastard."
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Jet carried a now unconscious Ed back to the Hammerhead as Spike and Faye slowly wove their way back to their respective vehicles.
"Fshooo. I didn't know Ed had enough money to get me drunk." Spike sat down next to the landing gear of the Swordfish and lit a cigarette.
"I thought you hated kids." Faye smirked through her patented "Scotch-vision". She'd never gotten drunk with Spike.
"I do normally, but Ed never really was a kid. She was more like an entity stuck in a kid's body." Spike waved his hands drunkenly to attempt to illustrate his point.
"Lunkhead, you're drunk. Shut up."
"Make me."
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
"Alright, Spiegel, you win this round." Faye sat next to him on the ground and lit a cigarette.
"You know, you're pretty funny when you're drunk."
"Astute, Spike. Very astute." Faye realized quickly that Spike was far, far drunker than she was. This could get amusing.
"Fayeee..." Spike whined drunkenly
"Mm." Faye felt herself on the verge of dozing off next to Spike's swaying figure.
"Faye, why do we always fight with each other so meanly? I like you as a pershon. But you alwaysh fight so mean. You always take stabs at my past, and it hurts me. I mean, what I did in the past was my past, not your past, but my past. I'm comfortable leaving that alone. I'll alwaysh love Julia in my own way," Spike said, starting to look sulky, "but I can't do anything for a dead woman. She's a losht part of my soul." He looked up, his alcoholic haze quickly erasing the pain in his eyes, "But you, you're fun to harassh. I should like you more."
Faye giggled. "Spike...stop while you're behind." Spike was surprisingly human and emotional when drunk. We should do this more often.
"You know," Spike began to mumble, "you actually look kind of pretty when you dress nice."
"What's that supposed to mean, you lush?" Faye couldn't help but smile.
"I dunno." Spike stared at his toes for a while.
"Spike, let's go home. It's late, and we're toasted."
"Kay," he said, making no move to get up.
Shit. I'm not carrying 135 pounds of lunkhead to the Redtail and driving his ass home. I don't care how much of a sweetie he's been. He's gonna be one mean mother fucker in the morning, that's for sure.
"Come on Spiegel, up and at 'em." Faye slapped his shoulder to try and get him upright. Finding this to not work, she rummaged in his pockets while chatting at him to keep him awake.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. The walkie talkie. "Jet?" she queried.
No reply.
Oh God, I'm too drunk to deal with this, and too sober to not care. This has to change.
She dug around in her purse until she found the flask she had liberated from a passed out guy at the bar. Unscrewing the top she smelled some top-notch whiskey that would conveniently take away any shred of responsibility she felt. She took a few gulps and sighed contentedly as the whiskey burned its way to her stomach.
A cool hand insinuated itself into hers and removed the flask, bringing it to its owner's lips.
"Spike, you're too drunk as it is."
"Never." He took a long draught.
"Gimme that!" Faye snatched the flask from his hand and downed the rest, which wasn't all that much after what he'd drunk.
I probably shouldn't have done that. Oh God, how am I getting home?
Faye sat back and let the whiskey erase her worries, and lit a cigarette. Spike yawned and stood up slowly, swaying back and forth as he did so. He turned and looked at her with drunkenly, glazed over eyes.

"Faye?" he slurred.
"What?" she asked, tiredly
"How're choo."
"Drunk off my ass," she replied, realizing that the rather large amount of whiskey she had just downed was starting to hit her quite rapidly.
Spike giggled. "But choo're sitting on your ass!"
Faye snorted at the absurdity of the situation, then waved her arms at Spike...well, one of him. There seemed to be several.
"Help me up fuzzhead, we've got to go back to the Bebop."
Spike unsteadily leant down to help her up, and miscalculated his drunkenness. He pulled her upright, and promptly sat down again, his momentum pulling Faye on top of him. "Heehee. We're back to square one, aren't we?" Spike grinned lopsidedly and looked up into her face.
"Yeah..." Faye breathed, looking into his mismatched brown eyes.
They stared at each other for a few moments, transfixed by each other's gazes. Something clicked, and they started slowly to lean towards each other.
"You think we shou-" Faye paused.
"No."
"You want to-"
"Yes."

It wasn't your average kiss, for sure. It's hard to call a kiss average when it takes place in a parking lot, on the asphalt under a ship, while both participants are extraordinarily drunk. But it was one hell of a kiss.
"Spike?" Faye gasped when they pulled away from each other. "We'll never speak of this again, shall we?" She couldn't believe she'd actually kissed him. God, he was an irritating little brat, but what a kisser.
"Mm no. You're a good kisser." Spike smiled, his eyes shut, and he promptly fell asleep.
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Author's Notes:
Aand . .the end! . . of chapter four that is! This one took a while longer, because I couldn't get satisfied with the end here, so it got re-written about a jillion times. Who knows, I may re-write it again . . . anyhoo, thanks y'all for your reviews, and my wonderful beta-editor Lady Athena (who has a great story on a roll, named Developments, which you ALL should read!)
Now, a glass or five of wine to celebrate!
Cheers,
Malia