| Coffee and Cigarettes: A mug of coffee was placed down before her. She looked at it and then caught sight of the long-fingered hand that had placed it there and she looked up quickly, her body freezing. Spike Spiegel looked down at her, studying her, and as she returned his gaze he smiled awkwardly, his eyes sliding shut, a hand lifting to the back of his neck. "I didn't think the mere sight of me would have you running to the bathroom," he said in his low tone and she recoiled from it, from him. It wasn't him. It wasn't. He noticed her reaction, though, and the corner of his mouth quirked before he turned away and went back to the coffeepot. It was barely five in the morning. No one in their right mind would have been up at this time, not anyone aboard the Bebop anyway. It just further proved that she had finally lost it. She lifted her eyes back to Spike's lean frame as he served himself a mug and then he was coming back, seeming reluctant but trying to play it off. "I wanted to be alone," she whispered and she dropped her eyes to the mug of coffee letting off steam before her. He shrugged at her as he took a scalding sip of his own coffee. "You got a room," he drawled. "Unless you're back to the bathroom? Has Jet been handcuffing you again?" "Why are you here?" she demanded and she instantly cut off the tone, already feeling bad. She had no right to be angry. And it was too early in the morning for an argument. She hadn't had her coffee, hadn't had a cigarette since she had crushed her box, and she hadn't gotten any sleep in between throwing up in the toilet and being wracked with shivers in her room. Spike had been the first to ask to explain in the morning, that he had been too tired to explain in the middle of the night and it had been settled. Now it was barely morning and here he was trying to make small talk. She couldn't stand it. "I live here," he shrugged once more. "You lived here," she corrected and she leaned away from the coffee, wondering if he had somehow doctored it. Why was he even here? When had he made the coffee and where had she been that she hadn't even noticed? She wanted to be alone, she couldn't take having him there, couldn't take having him look at her out of the corner of his eye as he sipped his damn hot coffee nonchalantly. "Aw, you see, Faye? I missed this, this cheerful bickering between the two of us. Why did we stop?" he asked with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and reaching into his pocket. Because you left, dumb ass. She wisely kept shut. Looking down at the coffee she slowly reached out and drew the mug near, wrapping her fingers around it and wishing to warm herself from it. He watched her as she picked it up and brought it to her lips and he snorted loudly as she took a sip and almost spit it out. "Crap, Spike! You call this coffee?" she demanded and she slammed the cup down, absentmindedly enjoying the loud clunk it made. "Did you learn nothing wherever it is that you ran off to?" He took out a box of cigarettes, slipping one out and reaching across the table for an ashtray. Placing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and drawing the ashtray close, he said, "I learned that you never trust anyone else's coffee," and he reached back into his pocket to pull out a book of matches. Faye stared at the matches as he lit his cigarette off one and putting aside the used match he reached for his box of cigarettes once more, producing a cigarette for her. She looked at it, then at him, before slowly reaching across the table and taking it. Her hand trembled as she took it and she knew that he noticed it but she snatched her hand back quickly, murmuring a soft, "Thanks." He looked at her as he slouched in the chair, his coffee steaming before his dark face. She couldn't stand that he stared at her. She never could stand it, especially not with the expression he had on his face. The only time she had ever been able to stand it was when they fought because the look had been one of impatience. She had always had a knack for making people impatient. But any other look he had given her had driven her crazy. It had left her wondering if she had had something on her face, something in her teeth. She slowly reached across the table once more, wishing she would stop trembling, and he merely watched her hand as it slid across the surface, fingers reaching out for the book of matches. And his hand suddenly came down to block the matches, holding his cigarette pointed to her where he held it between his index and middle fingers. She stared at his cigarette silently but with a confused expression and when she looked at him he arched an eyebrow at her. "Don't be stingy with the matches," she said, managing a growl in her voice, one she didn't feel. She was exhausted. "I'm not," he said and he motioned with his cigarette. "Come on, romani, are you that out of it?" She stared at him at his words, at his term for her. She had always likened it to a term of endearment from him and fighting the small smile that broke across her face she chuckled nonetheless, bringing a small smile to his face as well. "Some things don't change, gaucho," she whispered, and she went to light her cigarette off his, only too aware that she trembled. With a short sigh he leaned forward and took hold of her wrist, steadying her as he met the tip of his burning cigarette to hers long enough to light it. She swallowed inaudibly, willfully forcing herself to remain calm in his grip and once he had it lit he released her, shaking his head at her. "Turning into a big addiction?" he asked her as he leaned back once more and finally took a drag. Avoiding his eyes she brought her own cigarette to her lips and for a moment couldn't remember for the life of her what to do with it. Geez, I'm losing it…I can't believe- Spike cocked his head a bit as she zoned for a moment, the cigarette at her lips. "Do you want me to smoke it for you, too?" he demanded. "Shit, for that I might as well have just kept it-" "You know, Spike," she suddenly cut him off, her face becoming angry, "screw you. What fucking right do you have to come back and make a pain of yourself? What were you expecting, huh? A big welcome home bash? For all of us to throw ourselves at your feet and cheer your return?" she pointed at him with the fingers holding the cigarette. "You were the one who left. You were the one who needed to go on this life quest and get yourself killed. And you were the one who didn't care one way or another what happened to us so how about you cut the shit and try putting yourself in our shoes-" "Are you speaking for everyone on their behalf?" he asked her coldly. "Because when I showed up I recall Jet being damn happy and Ed was practically hopping up and down with fucking joy. Even Ein was thrilled. The only one who is giving me a problem is you so what's your fucking deal?" Slamming a hand down on the table, Faye rose, this time visibly shaking with anger. "My fucking deal," she said in a quietly controlled murmured tone, "is that I don't feel that I should have to be all chummy-chummy with you because you skipped out on us. My fucking deal, is that you don't deserve anything from us, especially not a place to stay. And you definitely don't deserve the welcoming that you got. You're shit for brains, Spike, and I was right when I said some things don't change-" "Yeah, some things don't change," he said in the same exact threatening tone. "You're still totally hung up on me. I thought some time would clear the cobwebs from your head but you're still as dense as ever-" "What the fuck did you just say?" she demanded in disbelief. "You heard what the fuck I just said," he threw back, and he rose as well, leaning forward and still managing to loom over her. He always had the extra height over her and she found herself hating the fact that she had to look up at him while he was allowed the satisfaction of looking down on her. He motioned with his cigarette, pointing her dead in her face. "You think I've never seen the look? The way a woman can stare at someone and it's so damn obvious what she's thinking? You can read her like a fucking book and you, Faye, can be read." Faye stared at him, her lips parted, stunned and indignant. And hurt. Her eyes shifted from one mahogany-toned eye to another and she could see the difference still in those eyes, the fake eye compared to the real one. And even the fake eye was capable of accusation. Dropping her gaze to his mouth, blinking dumbly, she backed away from the table and managed to ram into the chair she had just risen from. She needed to get away. Suddenly, desperately, she needed to get away. Away from that damned accusation, the lean frame of the one who had given her nightmares. She needed to stop hearing his voice, even though it resounded in her head. And she needed to stop smelling him as well, his brand of cigarettes. She had avoided his brand for the very reason that they had been his brand and in his absence he had not changed his taste. Almost frantically she dropped her cigarette, watching it bounce across the surface of the metal table, and she backed away further, escaping the confined space between the chair and the table. He leaned forward onto the table, resting his hands on the surface and with a sigh he said, "Faye-" "No," she said instantly, holding out a hand to him and causing him to pause. "I'm not going to listen to this crap. Not now and especially not from you. You're fucking crazy if you think I'm-" and she didn't even finish her sentence, shaking her head and turning to storm out of the room. "Faye," he called after her. And he was rewarded with her footsteps and then, several moments later, the slamming of the door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the Bebop. |
| All images and works done/altered by ShiNoFuriko and TasogareBan. Please do not steal and always give credit to where it is due. |