New Ficlet
Title: Not about Heidegger, but Wine
Summary: Spike and Jet plan a better life without Ed and Faye.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 544, discounting the quote
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, yaoi
Pairing: Spike/Jet
A/N: So a plot bunny latched onto my face and wouldn’t let go. This story takes place just after Hard Luck Woman. Why are all my characters drunk all the time? Hurrah for shirking stories I should be writing.
We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away
Devote ourselves to projects that sell
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Forget this cold Bohemian hell
-“Santa Fe”, Rent
“‘Learn to know ever more deeply: from now on every single thing demands decision, and every action responsibility,’” Jet said, helping himself to more wine. “That’s what he said.”
Spike stared into his glass, twirling it so he could watch the dark liquid spin around the inside. “I thought that quote was about Hitler,” he said, “and wasn’t Charlie a Goethe fan last time?”
“There’s no law that says he has to pick a philosopher and stick with him,” Jet responded, “and just because it was about Hitler doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
It was almost like old times again, with Faye and Ed gone. Jet lay on the couch, Spike sat on the floor, resting his head on Jet’s stomach. The last few days had taken their toll. Neither one of them was going to mention it, though. They weren’t going to talk about how the ship felt emptier than it had before Ed and Faye showed up. They were just going to quietly sit and drink until the autopilot brought them to Mars.
“I hate women,” Spike contemplated before downing the rest of his wine.
“Yep,” Jet concurred. “No more new crew members. Just you and me from now on.” There was a long pause. “Bitches took my dog.”
Spike put his glass down on the table. “Why are we even doing this? Being bounty hunters I mean.”
“Well, we have got the ship and all,” Jet thought, scratching his head. “And… I dunno, special equipment. That’s why we’re bounty hunters.”
“Nothing says we can’t sell,” said Spike, more excited than Jet had seen him in a long time. “New bounty hunters are starting every day, and we’ve got the whole rig for some sucker who wants to get into the business, right down to the special goggles.”
“Yeah,” Jet smiled, folding his arms behind his head. “Forget chasing god-knows-who across the solar system and never making any money from it.” He sat up excitedly, knocking Spike into the table. “We’ll open a bar!”
Spike rubbed his head. “That’s it. We’ll open a bar, offer drinks and sage bounty hunter wisdom,” he said. “Stuff like, ‘Don’t shoot a bounty,’ and ‘Always make sure your gun is loaded.’ No kids, no dogs, no tomboys.”
“Well, maybe a dog,” Jet considered. “Gotta have something to protect the bar.”
“Ok, but only if it’s a big, mean dog,” Spike acquiesced.
“Right,” Jet said, pouring himself another drink. “Spike, we’ll make a fortune.” Jet set down the bottle, then let his hand rest on Spike’s head, mussing his hair.
“We don’t need anybody else,” Spike told him. “Just me and you.”
“The way it should be,” Jet agreed, his hand dropping to Spike’s shoulder. Spike stretched, then lay his head against Jet’s knee.
“How long until we reach Mars?” Spike asked him. It’s a ritual between them, always the same question. Jet was almost surprised that he’s asking. He hasn’t asked since before Faye showed up. Smooth as ever, Spike slid up on the couch beside him.
“Long enough,” Jet said, smiling. He took a last sip of his wine and set it carefully on the table. Then he pressed his lips to Spike’s, and it feels… normal. Natural. And it’s just like old times again.
Summary: Spike and Jet plan a better life without Ed and Faye.
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop
Word Count: 544, discounting the quote
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, yaoi
Pairing: Spike/Jet
A/N: So a plot bunny latched onto my face and wouldn’t let go. This story takes place just after Hard Luck Woman. Why are all my characters drunk all the time? Hurrah for shirking stories I should be writing.
We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away
Devote ourselves to projects that sell
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Forget this cold Bohemian hell
-“Santa Fe”, Rent
“‘Learn to know ever more deeply: from now on every single thing demands decision, and every action responsibility,’” Jet said, helping himself to more wine. “That’s what he said.”
Spike stared into his glass, twirling it so he could watch the dark liquid spin around the inside. “I thought that quote was about Hitler,” he said, “and wasn’t Charlie a Goethe fan last time?”
“There’s no law that says he has to pick a philosopher and stick with him,” Jet responded, “and just because it was about Hitler doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
It was almost like old times again, with Faye and Ed gone. Jet lay on the couch, Spike sat on the floor, resting his head on Jet’s stomach. The last few days had taken their toll. Neither one of them was going to mention it, though. They weren’t going to talk about how the ship felt emptier than it had before Ed and Faye showed up. They were just going to quietly sit and drink until the autopilot brought them to Mars.
“I hate women,” Spike contemplated before downing the rest of his wine.
“Yep,” Jet concurred. “No more new crew members. Just you and me from now on.” There was a long pause. “Bitches took my dog.”
Spike put his glass down on the table. “Why are we even doing this? Being bounty hunters I mean.”
“Well, we have got the ship and all,” Jet thought, scratching his head. “And… I dunno, special equipment. That’s why we’re bounty hunters.”
“Nothing says we can’t sell,” said Spike, more excited than Jet had seen him in a long time. “New bounty hunters are starting every day, and we’ve got the whole rig for some sucker who wants to get into the business, right down to the special goggles.”
“Yeah,” Jet smiled, folding his arms behind his head. “Forget chasing god-knows-who across the solar system and never making any money from it.” He sat up excitedly, knocking Spike into the table. “We’ll open a bar!”
Spike rubbed his head. “That’s it. We’ll open a bar, offer drinks and sage bounty hunter wisdom,” he said. “Stuff like, ‘Don’t shoot a bounty,’ and ‘Always make sure your gun is loaded.’ No kids, no dogs, no tomboys.”
“Well, maybe a dog,” Jet considered. “Gotta have something to protect the bar.”
“Ok, but only if it’s a big, mean dog,” Spike acquiesced.
“Right,” Jet said, pouring himself another drink. “Spike, we’ll make a fortune.” Jet set down the bottle, then let his hand rest on Spike’s head, mussing his hair.
“We don’t need anybody else,” Spike told him. “Just me and you.”
“The way it should be,” Jet agreed, his hand dropping to Spike’s shoulder. Spike stretched, then lay his head against Jet’s knee.
“How long until we reach Mars?” Spike asked him. It’s a ritual between them, always the same question. Jet was almost surprised that he’s asking. He hasn’t asked since before Faye showed up. Smooth as ever, Spike slid up on the couch beside him.
“Long enough,” Jet said, smiling. He took a last sip of his wine and set it carefully on the table. Then he pressed his lips to Spike’s, and it feels… normal. Natural. And it’s just like old times again.