Review responses:
Kate Spiegel: Thanks! Believe it or not, that was my first Spike/Faye fic.
Ni9htdreame12: The other CB fic is listed in my profile—maybe ppl will actually read it...
Kendra Luehr: Thank you! That's what my friend says too, but I have a hard time believing her because she tells me most things are good...and in response to your question---no, the mystery man that she woke up next to was indeed Spike. I originally was going to make it so that it was the cowboy (can't remember his name) from the Teddy Bomber episode, but I changed it to Spike instead.
Twilightfucker: Not a one time only thing, I just have to get in the right mood...BunnWw: The other chapters feature other characters—and are quite a bit longer. That one just happened to be the one I had on hand at the moment.
Author's note-I know the first chapter was about Spike and Faye, but I have decided that I am going to make each chapter about a different pairing, some of which are not always commonplace. Oh well, I hope you still like it---I usually don't write stuff like this—I'm more into the Rurouni Kenshin fanfics rather than Cowboy Bebop.
Jerk: Chapter two- Dream
Jazz.
The kind of sexy beat that can go from slow and sensual to fast and mindless in an instant, wrapping the mind in the haze of raw sexuality that is known as music. From beneath the dark shadow of my cloak, I watch him. The man I have been combating my feelings for ever since Titan.
Every night is the same. I go to that dingy little bar, and watch him. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and sex is heavy in the smoke filled air, and various homosexual patrons edge nervously around my battered chair as though I am the devil himself. I have made it perfectly clear, though, that I have no interest in any of them.
My only desire is the beautiful man sitting before me in the front of the room, his hair cascading down his back in silken sapphire waves as he tilts his head towards the dirty ceiling. His fingers dance lazily over the saxophone, and I feel the desire to have those fingers dancing over my body instead of the cold metal.
The sexual aura is heavy in the air now, the haze of alcohol wrapping me in the warm fingers of my fantasies. And even as I stare at him hungrily, sapphire eyes never see me in the crowd of faceless people when he casts a wayward glance around the room. Maybe they do see me---I'll never know, and I find that I don't really care.
My tongue slides slowly from the cavern of my mouth to wet dry lips as I continue to stare at him, still oblivious to me. A transvestite places himself gingerly on my lap, blocking my view, and I can smell his desire. He looks up at me in shock as I push him to the ground; he looks pathetic, and looks nothing like a woman.
I ignore the clicking of thick heels as the man-whore stalks off, returning to gaze at him. The music has stopped, and the aura is fading. With gentle hands he places his sax back in the velvet-lined case, his eyes filled with a sadness I know I am responsible for causing. The other patrons are stumbling towards the doors with drunken stupors and one night stands that many of them will never meet again. I am gradually shoved towards the exits with them, trying to avoid being crushed by those who cannot wait to be home with their lovers.
Until I see one going against the crowd. Going back towards him. I would be damned if I ever let him be touched by someone other than me.
By the time that I reach him, the sexual aura is long gone, and he is arguing with a man a few years younger than myself.
I have made my decision.
I'll tell him.
Even if it kills me.
I pull my hood down as the stranger leaves, wondering vaguely if I will regret this when I am solemn and sober once more. He backs up, reaching for something, anything to defend himself from me.
I grabbed his hands, and lips met lips roughly.
It's morning now, and I watch him sleep peacefully next to me. He doesn't know that I won't be there when he wakes up. I'll just be a dream, a fantasy that will never become real.
The next time I saw him, he lay dying---blood flowing from his heart as he reached out to me, asking why. My comrade lies dead next to me, and I kneel next to the man he shot.
"Why?" His face is full of pain and anger, and the feeling of betrayal.
"I am but a fantasy that can never be real, no matter how much you wish it to be so." There is nothing more I can say.
Why did I not say that I had wanted it to be real? Was it because of the way that I am? Or is it because all I am living is just a dream that will end as I lay here dying from the bullet of a former comrade?
Ooh...didja find out who the blue-haired man was?
And the pairing is---------------Gren/Vicious! My first shounen ai! I'm proud of myself!