The band was finishing up the last set, and Grace had just delivered the last round of drinks to their table. Faye was quite adept at observing and imitating people, and Spike was smashed enough to enjoy her antics. The Glowing Sun attracted a rough crowd, and had Faye been there alone or with anyone else other than Spike, her behavior would not have been tolerated. But everyone in this neighborhood knew who Spike was and what he did. Luckily for Faye, no one who valued life wanted to be caught on his bad side.
After the two of them had finished the sixth round of drinks, it was like old times, where both tried to be more sarcastically witty than the other. It was a drinking game that they had often played on the ship, after Jet had retired to his room and Ed was crashed out somewhere within the ship, using Ein as her pillow. Faye's words had started to slur two or three drinks ago, even though she had insisted that he was more smashed than her. Finally, Spike finished off his last glass and stood up, holding on to the edge of the table.
"Come on," he said, pulling on her arm. "Time to go."
"Hold your horses," she snapped. "I'm not finished yet."
"I think you are," he said teasingly. "Drink up and let's go."
Faye polished off her glass then she tried to stand, holding on to both the table and Spike.
"You alright? You look a little pale."
"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not alright. I am plastered," she said, eyeing the empty glass with sudden loathing, "and if I don't get some fresh air in about ten seconds, I'm going to throw up in your lap."
Spike grinned. Faye thought he looked a little amused or worried, or maybe a little of both. "I wouldn't really throw up on you, you know," she protested as he put his hand under her arm to help her stand. She rose to her feet.
"Where're we going?"
"Home."
* * *
Spike pulled out a ring of keys from his jacket and unlocked the door to the apartment. He stood aside and wordlessly beckoned for Faye to step inside. He locked the door behind them and led Faye into the kitchen, just to the right of the apartment entrance. He set the keys down on the kitchen table and draped his jacket over one of the chairs.
"I'm going to go take a shower," he told her as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom. Midway to his destination, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.
"Don't go nosing around, Faye. I'll be right back." He disappeared down the hall.
Faye stuck out her tongue at him, and then giggled to herself at her own childishness.
Hmmph, still thinks he's mister high and mighty. But … when someone tells you not to do something…
She walked into the living room and wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked around. The walls were the washed-out hue of a sky just before the rain and were completely bare except for a light switch that controlled the overhead light. A worn brown sofa sat in the middle of the room with an armchair beside it and a coffee table in front, containing a disgustingly full ashtray and a dog-eared paperback lying open and face down.
Definitely a guy's place, she thought.
She wondered if she were the first female to set foot inside of Spike's apartment. The possibility that Spike would allow any other woman access to his private domain bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Faye thought she knew him better than any other woman, except maybe for Julia who was no longer around, so she didn't really count. When they had been shipmates, he'd been comfortable enough around her to lounge about wearing those tacky orange boxers, and she had discovered a few other disgusting habits of his when she'd lived with him.
She picked up the book to see the title: Walking on the Moon. She recalled seeing him reading that book once on the Bebop. As she thought about it, she had never actually seen him read the book; he would use it to cover his face and spy on her while pretending to be asleep. So maybe he does know how to read, she thought maliciously. She switched the pages around and placed the book back on the coffee table, smiling to herself.
She wandered restlessly into the kitchen. She could see evidence of takeout on the countertop, where several plastic forks and chopsticks were lined up neatly. The chopsticks reminded her that she hadn't eaten since leaving the ship that morning, and she debated on whether to take a peek inside the refrigerator. Spike liked long showers almost as much as she did, so she figured that she'd have plenty of time to check out the goods without getting caught.
As she moved to open the refrigerator door, she felt a warm breath caressing her neck and she squeaked in surprise. She whirled around to find Spike standing behind her with his hands in his pockets and a stupid grin on his face.
"Why you--" she savagely poked his chest with her finger. "What the hell was that, Spike?"
"Just wanted to see if you still had it."
"Had what?" She clamped her hands on her hips and stomped her feet in exasperation, glaring up at him.
He watched her, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "That," he said. "The fire in those green eyes." He pulled a hand out of his pocket to touch her cheek.
She stared up at him, wondering if this was the same Spike who had once inhabited the Bebop. Back then, he would never been so direct, especially with her. This Spike was a handsome stranger who was flirting with her and she felt awkward around him. The Spike she knew was a masochistic bastard who liked playing head games with her to see her squirm. She was tempted to punch him, but she controlled the urge; she wasn't ready to unleash her anger on him yet; she was still too relieved to find him alive.
And if she didn't know better, she'd say that he was glad to see her too.
"God, what a dump, Spike," she said, looking for a way to mask her discomfort. "Couldn't you afford anything better than this?"
He shrugged. "Why? I only sleep here."
Faye snorted. "Well, it's the one thing you're good at."
"Don't you want to find out what else I'm good at?" he asked seductively, leaning into her.
She took a couple of steps away from him.
"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed as she strolled back into the living room. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the sofa, stretching her legs out.
Spike followed her, looking slightly perturbed as he watched her get comfortable. "That's my seat," he grumbled, slumping down in the armchair.
"Deal with it," she told him. "You know, I did a lot of walking around looking for you." She wriggled her bare toes in relief. "The streets of Tharsis are murder on a woman's feet."
Her stomach grumbled and she sat up, twisting towards him. "Spiiike … "
Spike made an exaggerated show of trying to get comfortable, stretching his long legs across the coffee table and crossing his arms across his chest before slowing shifting his gaze up to her face.
"What kind of host are you?" Faye asked coyly. "I'm a guest and I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry."
Faye batted her eyes at him. He grinned in spite of himself.
"Tell you what, because you're so hungry and I'm such a considerate host and all, and since you came all the way down to Mars just to find me --"
Faye interrupted him. "Are you going to feed me or what?"
"Hmmm …" Spike tapped a finger against his chin as he pretended to think about it.
She growled at him.
He finally answered her. "I know a Thai place that delivers." He took out his communicator and punched in a code for the restaurant.
Faye snickered. "Either your memory got sharper since your return from death or you don't cook much."
He scowled at her and turned back to the comm. "Yo, Soo-Ling. Yeah, the usual, but make it for two. How long? Right." A few brief words later, he ended the call, then stood up slowly and turned to Faye.
"Want a drink?"
She lit up. "Do you even have to ask?"
"Guess not." Spike walked into the kitchen and took a couple of glasses from the overhead cabinet, then pulled out a bottle of lao chu from the fridge.
"I'm not going to serve you," he called to her.
"That would be too much to ask," Faye muttered. She got up from the sofa and padded barefoot into the kitchen, reaching for the empty glass.
"Yeah, it would."
She clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes at him.
He threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Hey, I'm just saying."
"Don't you have anything stronger than this?"
Spike reached into the cupboard under the cabinet and pulled out an unopened bottle of whiskey. "Almost forgot about this," he said as he twisted off the cap. "One of the perks of the job."
He handed her the bottle and she poured herself a generous amount, then grabbed both her glass and the bottle to the table, Spike following behind her.
"You never did say what your job was, Spike."
He looked at her. "You're right, I didn't." He downed the contents of his glass and slid it towards her. "Fill it up?"
She reached to steady the glass, suppressing a shiver as their fingers touched. She filled the glass to the brim and slid it back to him, looking at him as she did so.
"Is that a challenge?" he asked with a smirk.
Faye finished off her own glass, closing her eyes momentarily as the liquid hit her stomach. She set the glass back down and gazed at him mischievously.
"Do you want it to be?" she shot back.
Spike picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp without a grimace. He pushed the glass back to her for another refill, flashing his seductive smile. Faye sniffed haughtily as she poured more alcohol into his glass. A beep from Spike's communicator sounded and he picked up to listen, then disconnected.
"Food's here." He finished off his drink in one gulp. "Spike 3, Faye 2," he said with a smile. "Be right back." He grabbed his keys from the table and left to meet the delivery kid.
Faye scowled. She could cheat and tell him that they were now even, but somehow that lunkhead would know. She refilled her glass. It wouldn't matter; she was much better at holding her liquor than him, anyway.
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