Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Clouds in My Coffee ❯ Medium Roast, Regular Please... ( Chapter 2 )

One day, about a year after she began work on her book, Faye was in the living room reading another Henry Miller book, drinking mandarin tea and listening to music on her CD player. Jet walked in to tell her that lunch was ready (chicken spaghetti) and was stopped in his tracks by the sight of her sprawled lazily all over the couch. It wasn't what she was wearing or, better yet, what she wasn't wearing but just the fact of how calm and cool and serene she looked laying there. Her jean-clad legs rested in different positions on the old yellow sofa, her right dangling off the edge and her left propped up on the back. One hand lay across her toned belly, which was bare because the t-shirt she wore was cut off right below where her rib cage ended; her CD player teetered half on her torso and half on the cushions. Jet noticed vaguely that the shirt she was wearing was an old ISSP shirt of his…From her belly to her right hand his eyes traveled, observing with an acute amount of amusement the book she was reading; then his eyes wandered from there to her face which was relaxed and intensely focused at the same time. Her lips moved silently to the words on the page and her head, which leaned back against the armrest, was tilted to the side, revealing the creamy skin of her ivory throat. In a word, she was breathtaking.

 

She also looked like she owned the place. She could own the place, if she wanted, Jet decided. She could stay there forever. She could do just about anything she wanted there…as long as she didn't go.

 

It was at that moment that Faye decided to turn her attention away from the book and toward Jet. She frowned then smirked and sat up a bit, knocking the CD player completely on the couch. “Whatcha lookin' at?” she asked loudly, the music still pounding in her ears. Jet would've blushed if she hadn't looked so silly yelling over the music. He walked over to the couch, sat down, and pulled off the earphones before saying, as if there was nothing to it, “You.” She giggled like a little school girl and thumped his hand. “Why ya wanna stare at me? I'm that pretty?” His smile disappeared for an instant before returning softly. “Nah.” She frowned then; she looked almost disappointed, but didn't have much of a chance to because he grinned and said “You're beautiful.” She looked stunned for a moment, then sank back into the couch and grinned, a pretty blush spread all over her face. “You mean that?” He nodded, moved her leg so that it sat in his lap and crossed his hands. “Yes, ma'am I do.” “Oh…well, nobody's ever said that”- he snorted then -“like that. Ya know. Like they really meant it. Like they weren't just saying that to get some from me.” He nodded again in complete understanding; she must have been told that same line so many times that it had to seem cliché to her. It was weird, though; he never expected her to understand that he meant it the way he did. “Ah, the perils of being gorgeous…” he murmured and played with her bare feet.

 

She went on to the next song on her CD player, and since it was up so loud she figured it wouldn't hurt if she didn't put the earphones back on. Sounded like some random pop song to Jet, so he didn't expect to recognize it. She must've noticed the look on his face; she smiled a bit and put one of the earphones to his ear. “It's from, like, 2006, I think…called “My Humps.” Jet listened to the words and couldn't help but laugh; the song was ridiculous but the beat and lyrics were so catchy, he didn't care. They sat together on the couch for a while, Faye reading and Jet listening to music, and by the time the same song had spun for the fourth time, Jet was singing along. “Whatcha gone do with all that junk, all that junk inside that trunk?” and Faye cracked up, replying between giggles, “I'ma get get get get you drunk, get you drunk love off my humps!” For a while she couldn't breathe, but after catching her breath she grabbed the CD player from Jet and changed the song. “Hey! I was listening to that!” “I know, I know,” she replied, wiping tears from her eyes, “but I don't know if I can handle another laughing episode like that. You”-and she poked Jet in the arm-“crack me up. Didn't know you had it in ya.” Jet blushed. Is she flattering me? “Well, it was funny and kinda stupid but…um…” He realized he was stuttering when Faye smiled at him like he was a child; her hair fell in her eyes but she didn't seem to notice, though he did. In the midst of the chaos, he could only think one thing: she's gorgeous… “Poor baby…can't even get his words out right. Did big bad Faye make you stutter?” Jet dropped his gaze and stared at her foot; two years ago, he would've been annoyed, offended even, by her comment. Now, he felt honored to have her tease him. It was somewhat endearing, her way of saying she liked him.

 

Ah, but only if she loved me…

 

He would've dwelled on that thought for a while, depressing himself again with the idea that she loved Spike, dead Spike, and not him. But he really wasn't in the mood for it today. He felt way too good, too relaxed to be depressed today. Besides, she was focusing all her attention on him right now anyways… “Jeeeetttt…come back to Mars…” Faye snapped her fingers to get his attention, but Jet just stared at her pretty little feet…and got a perfect idea to get back at her for taunting him. “Faye, I think your piggies need to learn a little lesson about teasing ole Jet.” He smirked at the way her faced paled, her green eyes bulged in horror. “Oh no, Jet. Don't even thi”- but she hadn't anytime to finish her sentence before Jet began tickling her feet, making her squirm and squeal. The book fell unnoticed from the couch, the CD player slipped from her hands and into the couch between her body and the back of it as she kicked trying to get away from his hands, but she could've cared less. All she was worried about right now was evading Jet's deadly assault on her sensitive bare feet. “JET! JEEEETTT, STO-HAHAHAH-P IT!!!” she half screamed, half laughed, and he laughed, almost maniacally. “Is big bad Faye gonna be a good girl now?” Faye opened her eyes and rushed out between giggles, “No!” Jet sighed as if he really didn't want to have to keep tickling her (though he really was having fun with this) and paused for a second before his sapphire orbs caught sight of a brand new target-her tummy. His grin widened from amused to down right giddy, flashing all of his pearly 32's and poor Faye almost started crying. Lord, help me, not my belly! He knew she was ticklish beyond belief in her torso, knew it. Why in the world was he torturing her like this?

 

She didn't even have time to answer her own question. Jet pounced like a cat on her belly with his fingers, getting right under her ribs and chuckling every time she squealed. Tears sprang from her eyes and she flailed her arms about in a vain attempt to hit him, but her mind wasn't even working at that moment. She had the coordination of a drunken bartender during happy hour. Jet figured he could keep this up for the usual three minutes, as was regulated in their previous games of tickle torture, but from the looks of it, Faye was about to pop. The poor woman would probably pee her pants if he didn't quit now, and he really didn't want her peeing her pants. The couch was yellow enough.

 

Several minutes later, when Faye had gotten her breath back and a little bit of her sanity, Jet hovered over her, propped up on the sofa on his elbows, the once forgotten CD player now on her chest and playing music again. Her eyes were closed, and a content smile spread across her beautiful features; he didn't think he'd ever seen her that happy. Not even that time when she won at Odds and Evens and he lost his clothes…”I can't remember having as good of a laugh as that,” she murmured softly, and opened her eyes to look at him. “Thanks.” Jet merely nodded and continued staring at her, spellbound by how lovely she looked at that moment, still a bit flushed and elated. He wanted her to stay like that forever. Apparently, she was thinking the same thing. “I wish we could stay this way forever”, she said quietly, and touched his lips. He didn't know why, but he kissed her fingers and her palm, wishing not for the first time that it was her lips instead. “It's so nice like this, you and me…I've never been this content before.” She sighed and turned her head away from him toward the table, her fingers still lingering softly on his lips. “Me neither,” Jet whispered, determined not to break the mood. “I like to imagine that we'll always be friends,” she said, looking wistful, and almost sad as she spoke. “I mean, sure, maybe we will, but one day…one day you're gonna get tired of me and kick me out. I'll have to find my own place…knowing me, I'll wind up all alone again.” Then she smiled, but it was so sad, so clouded he couldn't smile back. His heart hurt at the thought of her ever leaving him; even if she only stayed as his friend it would be so much better than her ever leaving. He wanted her with him forever. He wanted her to live with him on the Bebop the rest of her life. He wanted her to…

 

“Marry me,” he said, not realizing that the words he meant only as a thought had come out. She stopped smiling that sad smile; her eyes widened and her jaw dropped considerably. Jet stopped breathing for a few seconds, scared she'd start laughing at him or yelling him to stop acting stupid. But she didn't. “You mean, like, now?” she stuttered, and he nodded, though he really didn't realize he'd done so. “Yes…” Her eyes dropped from his to the table again and she sat up, pushing him back some. She stared quietly at her hands, so quiet for so long that Jet considered taking back what he said and making it out to be a “big joke” so he wouldn't embarrass her or make her feel strangely about him. He was on the verge of saying something when she smiled-not sad this time-locked eyes with him again, and, much to his surprise said,

“Okay.”