a/n: so, we get to deal with the awkward morning after. and man, i have a feeling that it's gonna be really, really awkward...

8. Inside Left Pocket


"Wake up, sleepy head; I can't believe you actually slept on the floor! Did I tire you out that much?"

Spike cautiously opened his eyes at the voice that floated into his ears. It was a light, rapid, melodic type voice that didn't register in his still sleepy mind. Realizing that his choice of bedding was rather hard and cold, Spike pushed himself up on naked arms and remembered where he was. He was in the bathroom. In Delilah's apartment. Naked, save for his boxers. With his memory somewhat back in order, the man who now referred to himself as a "lecherous cheat" stood up and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Just before he fell asleep the night before, Spike had tried to convince himself that all of this was just and alcohol-induced dream. In his head, he had worked up the idea that he had gone off of his plan, gotten piss-ass drunk, and had himself one crazy dream. But as he found he had no hangover, except for one of massive guilt, Spike looked at the woman beside him and fell back against the wall.

"Want me to make you some breakfast? I know how to make a mean Spanish omelet," she asked him, as chipper as ever.

Spike had to wonder if she was always that damn happy. If so, he could definitely use a dose of what she was taking, seeing as though his life was shit more often than not.

"I'm not hungry, thanks. And could you take off my shirt, please."

He tried his best to say the last part without sounding too angry. The only person allowed to wear his shirts post-coital was Faye, though he doubted he'd ever have any type of coital with Faye once this got out.

"Oh, are you interested in another round?" She asked, excitement in her voice.

"No," he stated firmly, allowing anger to creep into his voice this time.

"Oh…sorry then. So, do you want anything at all? I can just make coffee if you like."

Sliding past her, Spike headed back to her room to recover his clothes. He needed to get dressed and he needed to get back home. He glanced at the clock on her night stand and saw that it was close to seven. Kicking himself mentally and reminding to kick himself physically, later, Spike pulled on his pants, socks and shoes, and searched for his old, yellow shirt.

"That's right, she's wearing it," he muttered to himself.

Exiting the room, Spike went to find her and his shirt. He spotted her on the couch in the living room, curled up in a blanket and watching the morning news. Seeing his shirt on the arm of the couch, Spike scooped it up and quickly threw it on.

"So, was it that bad?" Delilah asked him, hurt weaved into her voice.

Letting off a stream of curses in his mind, Spike buttoned up his shirt and fumbled for what to say. Once again, his newest companion, Guilt, tugged at his brain. If he didn't already have enough on his plate, he now had to deal with this girl. He felt like slapping himself on the forehead at the moment, wondering how he ever forgot the awkwardness that occurred the morning after a one night stand.

It was always difficult for him to make a clean break after treating a woman to a "real man" as he liked to think of himself back in the day. Unable to break their heart in one fell swoop, he always did the nicest thing he could think of. Delilah would prove to be no exception.

"Listen, I'm sorry. Last night…well…it was a night…"

"It's not like I made you do anything! You could have said 'no' at any time," she told him, he sounding a bit shaky this time.

"I know, I know. Let…let me make it up to you," Spike said, guilt currently kicking him in the head.

"Make it up to me? How?" She questioned as she pulled her blanket tighter around her.

"How about I take you out to dinner," he sighed as he rolled out his usual ruse.

"Dinner? Really?" She asked, that damn perkiness weaseling back into her tone.

"Yeah, sure…really," he tried his best to keep his lackadaisical attitude at bay.

"Oh Spike, that sounds great," she exclaimed as she hoped off the couch and hugged him.

Pushing her away quickly, Spike turned his head, suddenly finding her tank and underwear clad body unappealing.

"Kay, we'll go out tonight," she planned without his input. "Wait, I have to work tonight. Boo. Well, I'm off Thursday night, so we can totally go out then. Is Thursday good for you? Good. How about we go to Toni's Grill? It looks so good on the commercials and…"

Her mindless ramblings went over Spike's head as he sat down to tie his shoes. He hoped that this brilliant idea of his still worked like it had in the past. Just take the girl out to dinner, have some casual conversation, say good night (and definitely DON'T have sex), then call her up the next day and tell her that you really didn't feel a connection, say that you don't think it will work, and then he'd be off the hook. Or at least he hoped that things would turn out that way.

"…so how about you pick me up at seven? Spike? Did you hear me?"

"Huh, oh, yeah," he said, phasing back in to reality. "Seven sounds good. I, uh, I'm sorry to run out, but I got some things to take care of early."

"Okay. Well, I'll see you Thursday, then," she easily said as she walked with him to the door and watched him pick up his suit jacket. "Thanks for a great night, Spike."

"Sure," he passively said. "Later."

As he walked out of the complex and hailed a cab, Spike sighed with a mixture of relief and dread. On the one hand, he was glad to get away from Delilah without incident, but on the other hand, he had to deal with his roommates and girlfriend. How in the hell was he going to pass this off? That damned girl had left a hickey the size of Mercury on his neck, and he had no idea how to cover that up. He was going to get caught, and he knew that there was no way around that.

The ride back to the ship was much shorter than he had anticipated, and he gave large consideration to taking another trip around the block. He decided against it, though, realizing that he had to save his money. When he had originally thought about hurting Faye, this wasn't how he meant to go about things. Being cruel to her was one thing, but cheating on her was completely another. He was supposed to prove to her that he was doing this because he loved her. Bringing in an outside party put a damper on that part of the plan.

Paying the driver and wearily heading up the ramp to the door, Spike thought about just turning around and not going in at all. But once again, that wouldn't help anything, and he'd eventually have to go back, anyway. Absentmindedly, he reached into his suit jacket and fished around in the inside left pocket and pulled out his key. He was mid-way through unlocking the door when he realized what was in his hand. Looking down at the key, he felt his left eye twitch and his stomach churn in a nauseous revelation.

"FUCK!" He yelled as he banged his head on the door. It turns out that the whole night had been in vain.


Sneaking into the Bebop, Spike quietly closed the door behind him. As he passed the kitchen, he momentarily thought about melting his newly recovered key on the stove, but it was too early in the morning for the smell of burning metal. Keeping to the shadows of the ship, Spike was almost to his room, happy that he was going to thwart questions for a least a couple hours more.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jet's voice called from behind him.

Groaning but turning around anyway, Spike gave Jet a goofy smile before cocking an eyebrow at his partner.

"Any particular reason why you're taking a shower so early in the morning?" Spike asked as he averted his eyes from Jet's towel clad form.

"I wasn't about to walk around with throw up on me until a more suitable time," he responded.

"Miss the toilet?" Spike joked.

"No. Ed missed the grass. But don't try and change the subject, where have you been all night?"

"I was unaware that I had a curfew."

"Don't get smart with me, Spike. You've been going out a lot lately, but you've never stayed out all night."

"Don't get your underwear…or towel in this case, in a bunch. I wasn't out drinking, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking that at all. I tend to have too much faith in you," Jet subtly reminded Spike of his worth.

"Whatever," the cowboy replied as he turned to head back to his room.

"Well, wherever you were last night," Jet started, "I sure hope it doesn't have anything to do with that damn hickey on your neck. And if it does, I sure hope you don't let Faye see it."

Spike bristled at Jet's comment, more angry at himself for thinking that he could get by the ex-cop.

"And what do you mean by that," Spike pushed, despite knowing that he shouldn't.

"You know exactly what that means. I'm not going to jump to conclusions, Spike, I want to believe that you have more sense than that, but if it turns out you don't, I'll tell you right now that I'm going to side with Faye this time."

With that, Jet walked past the now gaping man and disappeared into his room. Spike watched as he closed the door behind him and came to the conclusion that he was royally fucked, and he only had himself to blame. Falling into his room as well, Spike closed his door and leaned back on it. Then he remembered that he was still in his clothes from the night before and quickly stripped himself of everything he wore.

He was very tempted to go take a shower himself, but he figured that that would bring too much attention and possibly raise too many question. Pulling on another pair of boxers and flopping onto his bed, Spike decided to clean himself off as soon as he got some rest. Then he'd wash his clothes, and maybe his sheets. But he'd play that last one by ear.

Closing his eyes and falling into a fitful, shame-filled sleep, Spike dreamt more vividly than he had in a long time. Images of Delilah flashed in his head while her moans rung in his ears. Then Faye, perhaps more beautiful than he last remembered, appeared while he was still with Delilah, horror and hatred registering on her face. Pushing the young woman away from him, Spike ran after Faye, trying desperately to find a way to apologize.

By the time he caught up with her, bloody tears were streaming from her eyes, which startled Spike at first glance. But he persisted, trying to find some way to get her to forgive him. He pleaded and begged, even began to cry himself, but she simply wouldn't hear him, she just continued to walk away.

He reached out to grab her arm, but the moment he did, she recoiled and slapped him scathingly across his face. Stunned by the action, but not surprised by it, he followed after her once more. The light of his dream began to darken until things were a blackish-blue. Odd lights swerved all around him and Faye, but he paid that no mind. He called out her name again and this time she turned around. Her eyes grew wide, she let out a gut-wrenching scream, and Spike bolted awake in his bed.

He gasped for breath as he shook slightly from his nightmare. The images he saw were too realistic for comfort, and what happened to Faye at the end, though he wasn't quite sure what it was, scared him more than he thought possible for a dream. Turning on to his stomach, Spike put his face in his pillow and screamed. He was slowly coming to the realization that he was going to have a really rough road ahead of him.


what was up with that dream? guilt's starting to get the best of our resident lunkhead. and when is faye gonna find out? what's she gonna do? and is this whole dinner/break up really gonna work the way spike want's it too? well, we'll see soon...

phoenix