I'm back! I adore this story. Yay for crazy psycho girlfriends! I'm not doing shoutouts ((pauses for collective gasp from readers)) because it just postpones my updating, but thanks to...

rubix the cube
Ginny
love97
StormShadow21
LegallyRed

I love you all!

Disclaimer: I own Spot's girlfriend and Tabitha (read on for Tabitha!). Disney owns Spot and the other related trademarks, blah blah blah.

The sunlight streamed annoyingly through the windows of the tiny, one bedroom Brooklyn apartment. Spot squinted through the sunlight, then closed his eyes contentedly. It was still early. He didn't have to be at the gates for another hour. He flipped on to his side, allowing himself a more comfortable sleeping position, and an arm snaked its way around his bare chest, rubbing it lightly with soft fingertips.

Something was very, very wrong.

Spot cracked an eye open, but saw nothing but his apartment. The arm was coming from behind. As slowly as he could, he tilted his body in the direction of the arm.

"BAH!" Spot rolled off the couch with a thud, taking the thin blanket with him. She stirred, lifting her slim torso off the couch. Her arms stretched skyward, Spot's button down shirt riding up slightly.

"Morning Spottykins," she said through a yawn, smiling angelically.

"You...you're here!"

"I couldn't let my honey bear sleep alone! Even if he is sick." She knelt on the floor beside him, wrapping her arms around him. It was then that he noticed she was wearing only his shirt and he was wearing only a thin pair of boxers. Spot tried to recall the events of the previous night. He didn't have a hangover, so he obviously wasn't drunk. But he thought he would recall sleeping with her.

"Did we...?"

"Nope, you were passed out cold when I lay down with you. I guess because you were sick, right?"

"Oh, yeah, really...really, very, very sick. Cough cough," Spot said, wriggling out of her grasp to get a drink. Too early for liquor, unfortunately. He settled for milk. The white liquid splashed into his glass and he watched it, almost in a trance. This wasn't happening. He wasn't still here. She wasn't still here. Yet there she was, stretching in a way that allowed Spot's shirt to expose areas not suitable for description. He chugged the milk back, longing for something stronger.

"So. I'm gonna...go to work," Spot said, setting down the glass and smearing his milk mustache with his arm. She groaned quietly.

"Oh, Spotty, do you have to go? You know I hate those long hours you work," she said, pouting and wrapping her arms around his waist. He stood very still. Maybe, if he didn't make any sudden movements, she would go away.

"Well, you know, I gotta make a livin' somehow. How else would I pay for this apartment?" he asked rhetorically. He smugly congratulated himself on stumping her.

"Hon, you don't pay for this apartment. The landlord does," she said innocently. Spot looked at her blankly. "The landlord? Your cousin Tommy?"

"Um, yes...yes, that's true..." Spot trailed off. Damn it. There went another excuse out the window. "Well...pumpkin, it's my job. I can't just hang around here all day."

"I know. I just get so lonely in this apartment all by myself," she said, looking up at him through long eyelashes. She'd be so much easier to avoid if she wasn't so God damn beautiful. Spot pushed his arms off her, regrettably.

"Well, maybe you should...go visit your friends," he suggested, making his way slowly to the bedroom to put on some actual clothes.

"What friends? The only friend I got is you. The only friend I need is you," she purred softly, sweetly. Spot dashed into my bedroom and shut the door. "Besides, all my 'friends' abandoned me after I started living with you. They don't like you, Spot. They don't think you treat me good," her voice came from the other side of the door. "They think I'm dumb for staying with you."

Well, they've got the dumb part down, Spot thought to himself, struggling into pants. His gaze caught his reflection in the mirror momentarily and he stopped to admire himself. The hours he spent lifting weights had certainly paid off. He traced the contours of his pecs and abs with his finger. Yes, it was certainly a body to be admired. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave him. At the same time, though, he was done with her, plus she was a psycho. Spot buttoned up his shirt and pulled a hat on his head. There. Walking sex bomb. He opened the door once more and found her standing right there, waiting for him. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Spot tried his damndest to resist, which wasn't very hard.

"That's to remember me by when you're at work today," she whispered in his ear. She handed him his cane and saw him out the door. Spot stood in the hallway, bewildered. What the hell just happened to him? The sensation of her lips on his still tingled. He chewed on it hard with his teeth to make it go away. It lingered in spite of him. Damn, that psycho was one good screw.

But, as good a screw as she was, she couldn't compare to the company of Miss Tabitha Goldsmith, who Spot found himself with that night. Spot had nailed her a couple times back in the alleys in the past. She, unlike his live-in nut-job, wasn't very particular as to where she went for the night. However, Spot had never found the guts to take her home with him. Now, he was desperate. He'd heard his "pumpkin" talk of Tabitha, nose wrinkled. She wasn't respectable. When Spot pointed out that she, perhaps, wasn't exactly the Virgin Mary, she insisted that at least she had standards. Apparently, Tabitha would screw anything with the equipment and didn't even need to money to convince her.

Spot watched her black hair swing on her back. She was sitting on his lap, giving him a very generous view down her low cut bodice. She noticed him staring and put her blood-red lips to his ear.

"So, are you gonna take me home or are we just gonna have to do it right here in the bar?" she asked seductively. Spot grinned at her saucily and raised his eyebrows in a strange form of communication. Tabitha understood and quickly got off his lap, sneaking an arm around his shoulders as he stood.

"I'll see you tomorrow, guys. I'm headed home for the night," Spot said, still grinning with that cocky swagger that made all other guys hate him and wish to be him at the same time. The two headed to the door, barely making it outside before Spot slammed her against the wall and stuck his tongue down her throat. Tabitha gladly accepted; after all, it wasn't as if she had any standards after she married that oaf of a factory worker. But when his hand started to slip up her dress and across her thigh, Tabitha stopped him.

"I thought we were going back to your place," she said boldly. Spot persisted, but Tabitha matched his determination. "Honey, it's been two months. I need an upgrade or I'm gone." Spot sighed and relented.

"All right. But I gotta warn you, I have a girl there." Tabitha raised an eyebrow.

"A girl? In the apartment?" Spot nodded. "Look, Spot, I don't know what they told you, but I do draw the line at threesomes."

"No, you misunderstood me. There's a girl there, but it'll be just the two of us. You got it?" Spot told her. Tabitha clearly still wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but she agreed and continued walking. Spot walked beside her, jingling the few coins in his pockets nervously. Tabitha said nothing. Guys weren't really in the market for mouthy girls.

Finally, they reached the crumbling apartment building and Spot let them inside. They started to climb the stairs and Spot felt a growing lump in his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anticipation or too much to drink, but he figured this to be his last resort. If this wouldn't drive her out of his apartment, nothing would.

They stopped climbing when they reached the fourth floor. Spot's apartment was around the corner, number 42. Tabitha trailed him in the dimly lit hallway. The building itself was a decent place to have an affair. Comfortable, sturdy beds, thick walls, few roaches.

Spot's apartment was the third door on the left, which Tabitha found out after he pressed her against it. She didn't protest and allowed him to open the door behind her with his hand wrapped around her left breast.

"Spotty?" The voice was quiet and timid, from the couch. The pair turned their heads and saw the source: a pretty brunette with dirty hair and smudged newsprint fingers, the folded evening edition on the couch beside her. She looked from Spot to Tabitha to Spot's hand on Tabitha's breast. She stood and walked toward them, looking up at Spot with wide eyes quickly brimming with tears. She stared at them both with a terrible expression of betrayal. Then, with little flourish or melodrama, she turned, walked into the bedroom and shut the door.

The unfaithful couple didn't hear from her for the rest of the night.

I originally had this really cool backstory for Tabitha, but it wouldn't have fit, since the story is in Spot's POV, so I had to take it out. I smell a spinoff, though...

moseph