Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Not Blue ❯ Not Blue ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or the characters and places contained therein.

For Fira. Our own personal Edward.

Warnings: OOCness maybe? And sex.

Premise: Ed never intercepted the message. Vicious happened across Gren's Red-Eye sales by accident and came to put a stop to them on the Red Dragon's orders

Not Blue.

I closed my eyes.

I was beyond saving, lost to the music completely. There was only myself, and the sound. The velvet soft and honey sweet notes were a welcome assault on my tired ears, each husky sound alleviating some small weariness that was threatening to overcome me as I neared the end of my set. I opened my eyes as that sudden realisation that made my heart soar, my blood pound and my head swim hit me. That this was my music.

My song.

My talent.

My God!

He must have slipped into the bar when I'd had my eyes closed, taking up that corner stool that the alluring Julia had taken when I wasn't looking two years before. If he had even paid me so much as a glance, I'd missed it in my brief selfish reverie.

Two slender fingers rose and gestured to a vintage bottle of Martian whiskey, then tapped the table. It was probably the most expensive drink in the bar, imported all the way from the best stills in all the inhabited planets.

He ran a hand through those silver locks, the soft light playing on the strands perfectly. He sighed so heavily I could almost hear it.

I was still playing. As professional as ever, you could probably put me back on that dessert moon and I'd play though a war. I finish that song and move on.

No. He hadn't noticed me. Why would he stay if he had? And I hadn't changed that much since the war, I wasn't unrecognisable. As he raised the glass of golden liquid to his lips, the red lights turning it almost blood coloured, I began to play that song. The one from the music box he'd given me. From my ticket to prison.

A brief pause before he tossed back the rest of the drink and turned his head to look at me.

That sickly nervous sensation settled in my stomach like a dead weight. I closed my eyes as I allowed myself to get lost in the music once again, fully expecting that when I opened my eyes Vicious, and my chance, would both be gone.

This would be the last song of my set and also the saddest. As I held the last note, leaning my head back, the red light shimmering on the curves of my sax as I opened my eyes just enough to see it, I sighed inwardly. A meagre applause filled my ears as I lowered the instrument from my lips; appreciation from an almost empty club was still as gratifying as if it had been from a packed hall.

The case opened with a satisfied clunk and I replaced sax without looking up to where he'd sat. I didn't want to be disappointed again.

"Here." A thin hand holding a tall glass of clear liquid appeared at the periphery of my field of vision.

"Vicious?" I murmured before thinking, lifting my head to see him.

He didn't smile, but then he never had been one for that. "You haven't changed."

"Neither have you…" I murmured, suddenly dumbstruck.

"Double vodka and a shot of lime. That's right isn't it?"

"I… yeah."

"Well, are you going to take it?" What here? Oh, the drink.

My fingers closed around the glass and I took it from him and sipped it. "Thank you."

"You are very talented." He turned and walked back to his seat.

Could it be over just like that? Such a brief encounter after years of not seeing each other? He lifted that glass and downed his preferred choice of poison. As he set the glass down and motioned to the bartender that he wanted a refill, he cast a glance over at me. A slight incline of his head beckoned me like I had never been betrayed and I slipped onto the barstool beside him.

I finished the remainder of my drink and watched him cautiously. His eyes were half closed, a graze marred one fine cheek, he looked exhausted.

"How… how have you been?" He sipped the drink again and shrugged. "As well as that?"

The corner of his mouth curled up in a faint smile. "Sometimes." He looked at me. Those eyes still made me shiver every time they raked over me. "You? I heard about the sentence."

I ducked my head and shrugged. "I'm fine. Gotta keep going right?" He smiled a little wider and nodded. "Why are you all the way out here?"

"Waiting for a ride that won't get here until tomorrow." He turned his attention back to his glass.

I don't know why I asked what I did. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Maybe I wanted a repeat performance of just one night we'd spent together. "Do you have a place to stay? I have room…, if you want."

He looked at me silently for a few minutes then nodded. "I'd like that."

I smiled. "Then let's go."

********

I took him back to my apartment. When he declined the shower, I excused myself and took the opportunity to warm up.

I let the hot water wash over me, leaning against the tiled wall, closing my eyes. I was shattered.

I was so tired in fact, I didn't hear him open the door and slip into the bathroom with me. I didn't hear him gasp. I didn't hear him move closer until he called my name softly. Looking at him in shock, I didn't even have the presence of mind to cover myself.

"You… Those are… new?" He gestured to my chest and I finally lifted one arm to cover my breasts self consciously.

"Long story."

"Well I have all night."

I motioned for him to return to the living room, turning the water off and slipping into my robe. He sat on the chair near my desk while I took the couch. Talking is easy for me. Not rambling isn't. Especially when I'm nervous. So he heard about how I got sent to prison, how I found out about a comrade testifying against me, and how I started to go crazy. All the time I kept my head down, not looking at him.

"So they gave me some new drug they were testing on prisoners, it was highly addictive… and the side effects? Well… my hormones went out of balance and this is what happened." I fell silent. He had moved over to sit next to me while I had been talking and gently tipped my chin up. He pressed his lips to mine like that single night we'd shared so long ago. "Vicious…"

"Shh…"

He slid his hand inside my robe over the curve of my breast, rubbing his thumb in a small circle over my nipple. As he pushed my robe off my shoulders, kissing down my neck and nipping at my collar bone I moaned softly. "Vicious, I didn't bring you here to…."

I was cut off as his teeth grazed my nipple. As his fingers settled on my thigh and slid up gently, he looked up at me again. "So?"

"So you don't have…" His kiss silenced me. The first touch of his cool fingers to my hard cock sent a shiver of pleasure through me.

"I want to." His voice was a purr. A husky low rasp that chilled me to the bone and set my soul aflame all at once.

"Not… Not here…" I pulled him up to stand with me, leading him to the bedroom, tugging at his clothes insistently. He seemed almost amused at my urgency, stripping quickly.

I could taste the whiskey on his lips and knew that was why this was happening. He couldn't have missed me. If he'd wanted he could have found me easily. Maybe this was just his kink.

When he pushed me back onto the bed and crawled over me, I stopped thinking about it.

When he kissed me so hard it took my breath away, I stopped thinking.

********

Vicious' hand slid down, parting Gren's legs and tracing a finger over his opening firmly, making the dark haired man moan softly. "Do you…?"

Gren reached for a small vial of lubricant tucked under the pillow, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of his handgun gently. He slicked the slender fingers that were offered to him slowly, keeping his eyes on that dark piercing gaze that burned into him. As the hand was lowered Vicious lay against him, pressing close and rolling his hips. The full lengths of their sexes brushed together slowly.

Two fingers pushed into him slowly, making Gren arch from the bed and moan Vicious' name. As they scissored and twisted slowly, they brushed over a spot inside him that made him see stars for the briefest moment.

"At least I don't have to keep quiet this time." Gren murmured breathily as the fingers rocked in and out of him slowly. Vicious did not respond, sliding a third finger into him slowly, preparing him carefully. Making him writhe and whimper, pleading for more softly.

Vicious slid his fingers out of the tight heat slowly, reaching for the vial to coat his sex, positioning himself when he was done, pulling one of Gren's legs up to hook over his hip. One of his hands snaked up slowly to cup and squeeze Gren's breast hard enough to make him gasp as he thrust into him slowly.

Gren moaned his name, arching up against him, wrapping his other leg around the silver haired man's waist. He rolled his hips restlessly, folding a hand over the one on his breast and making him squeeze harder. "Please…Vicious… "

He began to thrust, slowly at first, so reminiscent of that single night they'd shared on Titan, moving harder with each stroke, releasing the soft flesh of Gren's breast to wrap his arms around the dark haired man's waist, pulling him close, letting his sex rub against the hard muscle of his stomach.

Gren arched so perfectly against him, moaning at the friction of his breasts on Vicious' chest, begging him breathlessly for more, harder. Vicious lost that fine control that he had managed to keep this long and began to thrust mindlessly into the willing body, feeling it tighten, so hot around him.

The dark haired man called his name, and came, his body tightening around Vicious' sex. He thrust once more and ground against Gren as he came, with a breathless moan.

********

He watched almost entranced by the even rise and fall of Gren's chest. His fingers played across the hilt of his blade slowly, so tempted. He had his orders. Find the Red-eye.

He'd kept quiet, pausing every time even the slightest noise was discernable from the dark haired musician. And had found nothing.

Except the music box.

Which was now held in his hand.

Without the solar transmitter.

Gren finally stirred and opened his eyes to look at Vicious, his eyes falling on the small melodic device. He bit his lower lip in thought and looked up at the silver haired man,

"Did you know who framed you?" Vicious asked softly, keeping his eyes on the music box as the handle turned slowly, it's sad strange little harmony filling the air. Gren sat up and nodded, his fingers inching towards the pillow slowly. "Why didn't you say?"

Gren shrugged. "I didn't find out for a long time afterwards."

"Where's the red eye?"

"I don't have any."

"You've been supplying here." Vicious' hand closed around the hilt of his sword. "We can't let that continue."

The blade was drawn and swung in an arc of silver light, tarnished with blood as it was dragged across Gren's stomach. In the same instant, Gren's hand dove under the pillow and closed around the grip of a handgun. Recoiling from the pain, he raised the gun, his finger squeezing on the trigger.

The dull explosion was almost deafening.

The bullet ripped through Vicious' chest, ripping into the muscles of his heart and condemning him to a quick though painful death.

Gren clutched at the open wound on his stomach, the dark blood bubbling through his fingers unabated. Forcing himself to his feet, he staggered to Vicious' side, watching wide-eyed as the pale man struggled for breath. Morbid fascination kept his attention on Vicious as he faded.

And passed away.

He'd not been this close to death in a long time. The proximity made him feel sick to his stomach.

Feeling faint from loss of blood, he struggled to the door, pulling on a long jacket and lugging his sax after him. No ambulance would come out this far. Besides, he was still a wanted man.

Sheer determination took him to the roof hangar. Sheer determination got him to set the course and blast off before engaging autopilot.

His love of his music, and a silver haired man made him pick up the sax, raising it to his lips slowly. He played the tune from the music box, one last time, over an open channel.

Tears glistened on his cheeks as he played, softly, slowly. His song. Their song.

As he finished, his head dropped forward, the instrument slipping from his grip.

He was gone.

Ed watched the small craft drift past with a curious expression.

The music it was transmitting was beautiful but hauntingly sad. She pointed at the craft, pushing the tip of her index finger against the thick glass of the cockpit. "Not blue." She stated simply.

As the last poignant strains filtered through the speakers of her computer, she waved a farewell. "Ed says so. Anything but blue."

AN. For Fira. < 3