Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Got You ❯ Idle Hands ( Chapter 16 )

I do not own the characters of Cowboy Bebop. They are the property of Sunrise, Bones, and Bandai Visual (2001). They make the money, not me. Nor can I take credit for most of my chapter headings- they are the product of their authors. Sigh.

And now….

Stress, stress and more stress.

 

Chapter 16: Idle Hands (Stone Sour)

 

“Spike, head back to the Bebop and get Faye to clean you up.” Spike nodded, closing the hatch of the Swordfish. Jet hoisted his two bounties into the Hammerhead, `accidentally' knocking Lihas around. The man stirred, slanting a glare at Jet he began snickering, his eyes glazed, “Alice's gonna get a nasty surprise when your buddy finds her.”

“Who?"

The mirth vanished, replaced by cold rage, “So the bitch did lie to me.”

Jet snorted, “She's not stupid, idiot. I thought fake names were normal at those clubs.” He shrugged, “The whole no strings bullshit or whatever.

Lihas wasn't listening. He grinned, “No problem she'll learn her lesson thanks to your ass wipe of a partner. Then, when I get out in the morning, I'll show her what I expect.”

"Shut the fuck up.” Jet forced himself to breathe, to calm down and not shoot the man between the eyes. Opting for a pleasing middle ground, Jet used his mechanical arm and thumped the wretch on the head. He grinned malevolently when he noted a bloody patch of hair, Oops, guess I hit a little too hard. He scowled at the growing pile of drool coming from Boris, then smiled when Lihas flopped into it. Pleased with this small turn in events he grabbed his comm, sobering instantly.

No matter how often it occurred, it always felt wrong to have the dog answer. “Ein, go fetch Ed or Faye.”

The corgi barked. Ed's face immediately appeared, “Hell-o Papa Jet. Faye-Faye is taking a bath. She told Ed to play uh…” the light bulb flickered on, “receptionist.”

“Fine Ed then why didn't you answer?”

“Because Ein-doggy needed a job silly!” She smiled pulling the dog up for inclusion.

“Ugh. Never mind.” Growing serious, “Look I need you to get Faye, now." Jet noticed the scenery behind Ed change, he continued, "Spike's on the way back with a busted up hand. She needs to clean it out and wrap it up. Have her slip him an antibiotic too.” Ed nodded. Jet made out a soft knock the screen showing a door.

"Faye? Papa Jet needs us," the sound of sloshing water sounded through the connection, the door opened exposing two, wet, soapy knees.

"Ed. What's wrong?" Faye's towel clad figure burst onto the shifting screen. "What happened?"

"Faye, have Ed run a check on a drug called Id."

Faye glanced below the screen, "Ed, you hear that?”

The screen shook, as the hacker nodded. “Ed's on the job along with her faithful doggie woof-woof: Ein!”

Faye's grip on her towel tightened and she groaned, "Just go.” She juggled the laptop, “What else?"

 

Spike was pissed. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn the Swordfish around, over take Jet and rip Lihas limb from limb. Sneaky little fucker. Another part wanted to rush back to the Bebop and make sure Faye was never near the cretin again. He grew crankier when his mind started supplying various scenarios that would keep Faye too occupied to bother with the bounty. Growling at his predicament he dashed around an oncoming freighter. Guessing that the idiot had used his sorting knife he growled. He used the same damn trick! Spike's displeasure turned inward. Should have known he was a one trick wonder. The accelerator crept higher. He cracked a smile thinking of the damage he inflicted to the man's face. The accelerator inched up. His comm beeped.

“What!?!”

“Spike get back to the Bebop, now. Faye and Ed are waiting for you. You need to get out of the ship and take it easy. Have Faye clean up that cut, it might get infected and it needs a few stitches.” Jet had just completed an express bounty drop: call ahead, pull favors, dump and run. He had a very bad feeling about the substances soaking into Spike's slowly depleting bloodstream, especially now that he was speaking to his partner. The man was livid.

Spike scowled, “Really Jet, you think so? Hmm… infected huh? That'd be a bitch.” He examined his injury before returning his focus to the screen. Smiling he raised the bandaged hand. A single finger stood at attention, “Looks like everything's in working order.”

The screen blanked. Jet immediately tried to reconnect. “Dammit!” Deciding to check on Ed's progress he hailed the Bebop.

“Bebop-Bebop, helllloooo Papa Jet!”

“Ed! Knock it off,” immediately she frowned. Jet sighed and violently rubbed his face, “Have you found anything about the drug?” Ed nodded. Expecting the worst he groaned, "Fill me in."

Faye appeared on the screen. Worry marring her features. "Designer drug, made to make mercenaries even scarier. No guilt, no fuss. They were riled up and drugged, highly effective.”

“So Id was a reference to Freud?”

Ed reappeared, “Yup. Bottom of the iceberg.” She began flailing, “ABANDON SHIP!!”

“Ed this is serious, what's it supposed to do?”

“Turn off the conscience, silly.” She waved, “Too much and it's goodbye ego! Later superego!" Both faces shared the screen.

Jet sighed, “Holy shit talk about déjà vu,” He grumbled quietly. “Faye I need you to put all the guns on the ship in the ammo closet. Go through every room.” He stared her down, “You know most of Spike's hidey holes, don't you?” She nodded. “Good. Ed hack into the Bebop and lock the door, do the same for the hangar. Let people into the main part of the ship but not out.” Ed nodded, her face growing increasingly fearful. Faye appeared to be rubbing the teen's back.

“Jet what the hell? You trying to scare her!?” She turned towards the girl then back, “She looks like she's going to cry!”

Jet shook his head, “The creep that drugged you last night ripped a big chunk out of Spike's wrist and hand with one of his dividing knives. Our buddy is heading straight for you with who knows how much Id, Peach and whatever else Lihas sells absorbing into his system.”

“What?!”

Jet groaned, “He was cut during a fight, Faye.” Catching on, Faye paled- Id was highly potent, the doses were miniscule. “You two need to stuff all the weapons in the closet, quickly and Ed,” he felt guilty when he noticed her lip wiggle, “you need to hide with Ein. I doubt you're in Spike's good graces after biting him."

"But Ed and Spike said sorry."

Jet shook his head, "I don't want to risk it Ed. Find a room to hide out in and lock the door. Faye I hate to do this but I won't beat him back. I need you to try and keep him calm. Clean up his hand, feed him, whatever. Just keep him comfortable. I'll be there as soon as I can. This stuff fucks with your drives, if he gets rough or starts acting weird lock yourself in the bathroom.” Faye nodded and disconnected. Damn, damn, damn.

 

Spike snickered when he ripped his comm off the console, pleased the screen had cracked. He was enjoying the speed and didn't like the interruptions. His hand throbbed again, the new cuts, courtesy of punching the communications device, smarting now that they were in the air. He glared at the slowly expanding red stain on the bar rag, Must've reopened it. Growling in frustration, he directed himself towards the Bebop.

 

Faye found every weapon on the ship- she even threw the kabob skewers in the closet, while Ed programmed the locks accordingly. Grabbing snacks and water, Faye stuffed Ed and Ein in her bedroom. “Lock the door, Jet or I'll come check on you when it's safe, ok?” Ed nodded curling up with Ein on Faye's bed.

Faye-Faye looks very tired. She whispered, “Be careful Faye-Faye.”

She smiled, “I always am.” Ed nodded as Faye pulled the quilt over the teen's thin shoulders. “Try to sleep, it'll make things easier. Will the lock activate when I go?” Ed nodded, releasing a shaky breath. Both felt the Swordfish dock. The hangar doors closed. “Well, Ed. Looks like show-time.” Slipping out the door Faye waited for the lock to engage before heading to the lounge, she settled on the couch and began a game of solitaire. Spike's grumbling drifted from the hangar- something along the lines of sneaky, freaky psychopaths with no creativity. Reminding herself to not panic she cracked her neck and prepared for the worst while trying to remain calm and collected. She peeked at him when he flopped on the couch.

“Hand hurts.”

Faye's eyebrow rose.

“Jet said you'd fix it.”

“Oh.” She left for a first aid kit. Returning, “Let me see it.” He dropped his hand in her proffered palm. She eased the wrapping off, eliciting an irritated hiss. With a frown she closely studied the bleeding gash and bruising knuckles, plucking a few embedded shards out, he jerked and cussed. She stood, "We need to wash the cut and you should probably ice your knuckles.” Tugging his arm she led him to the bathroom. Did Spike just tighten his grip on my hand?

 

“Fuck. That stings!” Spike yanked his hand from the water. The antiseptic soap soaking in with a throbbing zing. The movement drug Faye with. He zoned in on the drips that splashed across her neck and chest, disappearing below the line of her tank top. His mind blanked.

Faye missed the track of Spike's gaze, too busy trying to keep her balance. “Knock it off Lunkhead. It has to be cleaned. You want an infection? Quit squirming so I can finish patching you up.” She tapped his head, forced him to sit on the edge of the tub and returned his hand to the running water, gently cleansing the smaller gashes with soap. Spike continued to watch stray drops travel across her skin feeling slightly cheated when she grabbed a towel and wiped away the wayward moisture.

With his hand disinfected, wrapped and now under ice Spike's sour mood began to sweeten, minimally. “Your bedside manner's the shits.” He grumped digging for a smoke. Faye handed him one of hers, retrieving one for herself. “Light?”

She passed the lighter, eyeing him carefully. "Never said I was Florence Fucking Nightingale." He closed his eyes, his head dropping back onto the couch. Hoping he had dozed off, Faye rose to leave.

Spike placed his leg on the coffee table, blocking her. "Why would you give an asshole like that the time of day? What's so attractive about a shit-for-brains dealer like him?"

Faye dumbfounded, snorted. "Spike, if I didn't know you any better I'd say you're jealous of some creep hitting on me." Spike peered at her from half closed lids, she sighed returning to her spot.

"Feeling up and drugging a girl is not how you flirt. Is that how you want guys to pick you up? Is that why you dress like bottom of the barrel hooker?"

Slightly stung by his question, Faye chose to ignore the parts she didn't like. "If you must know I wasn't attracted, I was doing my job. In case you forgot, I was supposed to play a college girl and find out if I could get us closer to the drug dealers. Last time I checked, most girls in that category don't kick the shit out of a guy for dancing with her.” She folded her arms and glared across the room, “`Sides I hated every minute of it. Guy was like a freakin' octopus."

“Even a nice girl would have removed an unwanted grope, Faye.”

She pinked, growing frustrated, and forgetting Spike's issues she seethed, "I wanted to shoot the bastard, but that would have lost us our cash cow. I wanted to rip his arm off and beat him with it. You should have heard the shit he was saying!” She whacked his chest repeatedly, “What's it matter to you anyway? Last time I checked you didn't care who I fucked or when."

He caught her fist easily, “Who says I don't care?” Faye's jaw slacked. He pressed on, “A freak like that would've left you dead or worse.”

Faye folded her arms, “In case you failed to notice I hated being around him. He was disgusting,” she gave an angry huff, “What girl in her right mind wants to be called pet and piece. He talked to me like I was a collector's item.”

He snorted derisively, "You were."

She huffed, “Don't forget, I readily accepted you as a dance partner to scare him off.”

He slumped lower, his unwrapped hand coming to rest on her thigh, "He had some fucked up ideas on how to treat a girl."

She eased back and snorted, “Right and you know exactly what a woman wants, eh Lunkhead?” Absently she tried to decide if she should remove his hand with force or leave it. Unsure what to do it remained. The hand absently rubbed the bare flesh, Spike's eyes closed and his breathing slowed. He whispered, “Faye?”

She yawned, regretting having taken another flu pill before her bath. The codeine finally beating out the rush of adrenaline. “Hmmm?”

“Who were you talkin' about the other night?”

“Uh…” She curled her legs beneath her, “Not sure. What did I say?”

“Something about a slob, a lot of no's and never's and that Jet and Ed were important.”

“Huh. Sounds like I had a case of verbal…” she yawned, her voice slowing, “… verbal diarrhea.” She let her eyes drift closed. Spike continued rubbing her thigh, his hand occasionally sneaking below the hem of her shorts. She sighed and sunk lower, too tired to care about her couch partner. She recalled their staged dance the night before and decided to place this in the `get it while you can' category. Besides, she figured, he won't remember this in the morning. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, assuming he was asleep and her hand gently on his own. She smiled, “It was you, Lunkhead.” Allowing herself to imagine this was the norm, not an idiot's half assed plan of retaliation her head settled on his chest.

 

Spike was in turmoil. He knew Lihas's knife had been dirty. He was also lucid enough to realize he was talking more than comfortable. What scared him was he didn't care that he had initiated contact with Faye; squeezing her hand as she led him to clean it and feeling up her thigh. His hand squeezed slightly and slid further from her knee. Ergh! This is Faye. FAYE! Knock it off. Desperately he tried to will his body to sleep, to stop rubbing her leg, to stop not minding, and more importantly stop enjoying it. He wanted to not care, keep her at arm's length- at the nearest. He hated that she wasn't the same since he finished recovering from his showdown. He didn't like the glimpses of a competent, caring, human Faye that kept appearing because he liked her. She was supposed to be the shrew, high bitch with a nice ass- the epitome of sexy, untouchable tomboy. Instead she was a likeable, entertaining woman with a nice ass. He scowled, a highly desirable, approachable, sexy tomboy.

Exhausted after the adrenaline crash coupled with a restless night of sneaking to the lounge doorway to check on Faye; he'd rather shoot himself in the foot then admit that maybe, just maybe, he liked her company and worried about her safety; he felt a hand fall atop his and peeked at a drooping Faye. Guess some of the meds haven't worn off yet. He stilled when she leaned in and dropped the tiniest of kisses on his jaw and confessed, “It was you, Lunkhead.” He cracked his eyes open to find she was completely out, her head landing on his shoulder. Autopilot kicked in and before he could stop himself he slid closer, his arm slipping from her leg to circle around her shoulders and pulled her flush. She was warm, comforting. Closing his eyes he gently pressed his lips against the top of her head, deciding he would enjoy this while it lasted. It's the drug. Whispering, “Good.” She sighed as he placed another tender peck on her forehead; positive he could live with the consequences, and fell asleep.

 

Jet flew into the Bebop panic stricken. He was certain he would find a slobbering, murderous Spike, over a bloody Faye with the mangled bodies of Ed and Ein strewn across the ship. No sooner had the clamps secured the Hammerhead then he was sprinting towards the hangar doorway. His heart stalled over the silence that greeted him. Quickly and quietly he crept down the hall, pausing every now and then to listen for danger. He checked the doors, noting that Faye's was locked. His breath caught as his hand grasped the door latch to the toilet, only to release it with a loud whoosh when he met no resistance. Continuing his stealth mission he slipped into the main room and froze, turned around, checked the couch again. Nope, not seeing things. From where he stood he could see Spike's slouched form, his head resting on Faye's. His arm flopped comfortably and possessively over her shoulders. One leg on the table, the other pressed against Faye, keeping her in place. She was curled up, her hand rested sandwiched between his chest and bandaged hand, head bobbing with each of his breaths.

Jet scratched his head and chuckled quietly, relief flooding his system, Well that was anti-climatic. Shaking his head he returned to Faye's room, gently tapping on the door. "Ed. Ed." He tapped again, keeping his voice quiet, "Ed. Open the door." He heard muffled movement and the lock disengaged.

"Papa Jet," her sleepy eyes wide with worry, "I-is Faye-Faye ok?" Jet smiled, indicating her to follow.

"Shh... everything's fine." He chuckled, "Come look at this." Both tip-toed to the lounge. Ed froze in the doorway, her jaw dropping slightly before curling into a mischievous grin.

"Oooo..." she stage whispered, "Spiky-Spike finally put the moves on Faye!" Ed took a few steps closer to the pair, “Ahh… Spike and Faye look so cuuuute like that.” She batted her eyelashes and giggled. Jet couldn't help but smile at the silly, little, happy dance. Motioning her to come with he headed towards the kitchen. Curious about what had happened while he was gone. Starting the teapot, he prepared two cups. "Can Ed have chocolate?"

"Yeah. I think you earned a cup of cocoa."

She grinned, “With those white, squishy things?”

Jet nodded. "If I can find some.”

“And coffee?”

“Ah.. no. Now. What happened?" Ed began, straying very little with uncharacteristic clarity. Guess she's growing up, Jet thought idly as he listened. He chuckled as she repeated the argument in the bathroom, Guess there wasn't that much in his system. Handing her a mug, he smiled and told her she did well. Pleased with the praise Ed gulped down her drink and yawned.

"Ed, why don't you go curl up in Faye's bed,” he chuckled, “I doubt she'll be moving." Ed nodded with a giggle and waddled out of the room, Ein in tow. After rinsing the dishes, Jet followed, pausing to dim the main room lights on his way to bed. He quirked a brow when he noticed: Spike had slipped lower on the couch, pulling Faye with and someone had tossed a blanket over the sleeping pair. Grinning, he crawled into bed wondering what the fall out would be tomorrow when the two woke in each other's arms. This could get interesting, he reconsidered, or dangerous. Then sighed, At least all the weapons are locked up.