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“Oh, please. Is that the best you’ve got?”
“It is when you’re holding out on me.”
“Who says I’m holding out?”
“Look, if you think you can take me—“
“I don’t THINK. I know I can.”
“Then show me. You mean in a fight, right?”
“Whatever you want it to mean…”
*
Laundry Day on the Bebop was always an ordeal. First, there was the matter of when it should be done. Ideally, the best time was “whenever we’re not darting from planet to planet, chasing bountyheads,” which meant that the laundry tended to pile up beyond the level of what Faye Valentine considered acceptable. Then there was the matter of who should do it. The Bebop had been outfitted with portable washing machines, but one was for Jet and the other was for Spike, and any time that Faye tried to suggest getting another one so that she wouldn’t have to bother Spike whenever she discovered his damp clothes lying forgotten in the machine and taking up all the space, Jet told her to stop complaining, because he wasn’t made out of money. Another matter was that of drying the laundry out. Both Faye and Spike agreed, much to their surprise, that laundry was best dried on a clothesline in the open air, but the Bebop didn’t usually have the luxury of anchoring on a random planet for a few hours, and so Faye had to contend with the possibility of slipping and breaking her neck on the puddles borne from the laundry’s steady drip, drip, drip.
And finally… there was Ed, who was a matter unto herself. No sooner had Faye brought an armful of sheets and blankets into the Bebop’s common room that she felt a soft object whap her in the back. “Pillow fight!” Ed declared, breaking into giggles when Faye whirled around to shoot her a withering look.
“Edward! I’m not in the mood.” On the one hand, at least Ed wasn’t being as much of a nuisance as she had been the time that she’d nabbed several spare sheets from the clothesline and cut them up in an attempt to make a Halloween costume. On the other hand, Faye had several more loads to carry, and she didn’t need an over-exuberant kid to get in the way of her chores. “Why don’t you go play with Ein for a while?”
“Ein can’t throw pillows at Ed,” Ed pointed out. “But Faye-Faye can!” She brandished her pillow, eyes narrowing into slits and lips curling over her teeth in a brazen, would-be-terrifying smile. Faye, however, was far from terrified. Maybe she had been the first time Ed had looked at her like that, but now she knew the difference between Ed’s “going to do harm” mannerisms and her “going to play” mannerisms. She stepped out of the way as Ed rushed at her, peering over the railing into the common room below. Several freshly-fluffed pillows were lined up on the coffee table, awaiting the reunion of their pillowcases, while on the couch, Spike lay in a peaceful slumber. For a moment, Faye considered dropping the sheets she was carrying onto him, since they were his sheets, after all, but before she could make a decision, the actions of an incoming Ed stopped her. She blocked the blow of Ed’s pillow with her arm, huffing an exasperated sigh.
“If you want me to throw pillows at you…” Faye let go of the sheets, which fell in a heap to her feet, and made for the steps that led into the common room. “You should be careful what you wish for!” Laundry would have to wait.
Ed whooped and darted down the steps, but Faye’s legs were longer, and she made it to the table before Ed did. She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at Ed, who promptly stumbled backwards, her arms windmilling as the pillow bounced off her. Catching herself on her knees, it took Ed a second to get situated, during which Faye grabbed a second pillow. She swung it in an arc over her head, warming up, until Ed popped up with a pillow in each hand. “You’re on, Faye-Faye!” The terrifying grin was back as she sprang forward onto the table, where Faye was ready for her with a well-placed bop to the head.
At first, Faye was inclined to hold back when delivering her blows. She wasn’t the strongest member of Team Bebop- though she wouldn’t have admitted that to Spike or Jet- but Ed was such a stick figure, and a child to boot, that Faye didn’t want to risk hurting her. However, it turned out that a seemingly-harmless pillow in the capable hands of Radical Edward packed a hefty punch– and Ed fought dirty. She sent one pillow arcing through the air over Faye’s shoulder, and when Faye’s gaze shifted towards it for a fraction of a second, Ed pounced, her other pillow smacking Faye’s face before Faye had time to blink. Gasping, Faye jumped backwards, crouching to pick up the pillow that Ed had tossed.
“Where’d you learn that?” she blurted, though she knew full well that the person from whom Ed must have picked up the art of misdirection was the same person who was asleep on the couch just a few feet away from them. It was truly a miracle that Spike hadn’t woken amidst all the commotion, although Faye wasn’t really surprised, considering that she’d seen him sleep through all manner of storms and turbulence. All the same, she made sure to move away from the furniture before hurling Ed’s pillow back at her. Ed dodged, ducking as the pillow flew over her head. While she was down, Faye advanced– only for Ed to spring and tackle her, sending her sprawling to the floor.
“Ed!!” Faye spluttered, bowled over in more than one way. She couldn’t remember having been in a pillow fight before, but she was pretty sure that that move wasn’t in the rules. Before she could protest, though, Ed was on top of her, squealing with glee as she reached for the pillow in Faye’s hand. Gritting her teeth, Faye clutched the pillow and flung it– but her aim was off. Instead of hitting Ed, the pillow flew towards the couch, landing exactly where Faye hadn’t wanted it to land– right in Spike’s face. Though the pillow was soft, the impact was enough for him to jolt upwards, shoving the pillow away. “Wh—“ He sat up and looked around, taking in the sight of Faye lying flat on the floor, Ed rolling around shaking with laughter, and several pillows strewn between them.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Spike reached up to scratch the back of his head, fluffing up his messy hair, and Faye wanted to laugh. He always looked so silly when he was pissed off– more like a sullen child than a full-blown adult. Her high spirits sank, however, when Ed pointed an unabashed finger in her direction. “Faye-Faye did it!”
“Traitor,” Faye growled, sitting up. So much for solidarity between teammates. Spike just looked from her to Ed, his annoyance draining away into a more relaxed expression. A familiar expression. Instantly, Faye’s skin prickled. She knew that expression. That was the kind of look that Spike wore when he was about to do something completely insane– or at least something that Faye would make him regret. Rolling onto her feet, she stretched out her hand, praying that Spike wouldn’t notice her target, but her hopes were dashed when Spike snatched away the pillow that had fallen to the floor beside him and held it aloft.
“Hey, Ed,” Spike announced, an infuriatingly pleasant smile gracing his lips. “What d’you say to two against one?”
“Wha—” Faye started to exclaim, but Ed drowned out her indignant cry with a yelp and a declaration. “Bombs away, Faye-Faye!!” She surged forward, and Faye instinctively moved back, right to where Spike was waiting with his pillow. He swatted at Faye as he rose from the couch, landing a hit on her hips. It didn’t hurt, but Faye cried out nonetheless, in surprise more than anything else.
“Hey!” She held up her hands, though she doubted a gesture of surrender would put an end to this nonsense. “Don’t I get a fair fight?”
“Of course.” Spike was still wearing that obnoxious smile that made Faye’s hands curl into fists. He’s LOVING this. “It wouldn’t be half as fun otherwise, now would it?” Without taking his eyes off Faye, he nodded to Ed, who grabbed the third pillow as if on cue and tossed it to Faye. As soon as Faye caught it, her willful irritation began to wane. It’s two against one, but at least the two gave the one a chance to defend herself.
“Okay,” Faye murmured, gripping the pillow and surveying her opponents. “We’ll start on three, two—”
“One,” Spike finished, already moving forward, pillow in hand. Faye just barely managed to slip past him, whacking him with her pillow on the way. She wasn’t able to avoid Ed, though, who snuck up behind her to wallop her in the back. Turning on her heel, Faye prepared to retaliate, fighting back the urge to break into a grin that she was sure was as annoying as Spike’s. Now the game was on.
Spike, as it turned out, took his pillow fights just as seriously as he took every hand-to-hand fight in which he’d ever been involved. Between his precision and Ed’s gung-ho approach, Faye was pummeled left and right. Not that she didn’t give as good as she got, though. For every pillow that connected with her face, shoulders, or waist, Faye was able to deliver a blow of her own to either Spike or Ed’s back and sides. Her heart pounded wildly, and her smile threatened to show. If pillow-fighting was a sport, she was bound to receive a gold medal.
“Looks like someone doesn’t know when to quit,” Spike teased, dancing out of the way of Faye’s swings. He smoothly dodged several would-be hits, before lashing out and slamming his pillow against Faye’s stomach. Faye just managed to hit his elbow with her pillow as he pulled away.
“Excuse me?” It was true, she’d allow that. She had no intention of being branded a quitter. But I’m not the only one. “Before you say that, you should go look in a mirror!”
Spike just grinned, in a way that took Faye by surprise. This wasn’t one of his usual smiles. It wasn’t the “I can take you down with one hand tied behind my back” smile, or the “I just thought of the perfect smart-ass comment to annoy Faye” smile. This smile reminded Faye more of Ed when she was playing with Ein, or Jet when he was trimming his bonsai. Spike didn’t look satisfied or smug. He looked… Happy.
That was all Faye had time to think before Spike tossed the pillow he was holding- not at Faye, but up in the air. He spun and kicked at it as it fell, sending it flying into Faye’s face.
“Hey.” Faye grabbed the pillow from the floor, miffed that her thoughts had taken such a pointless detour when she needed to be alert. “No fair using that martial arts crap.” She threw the pillow back to Spike, but Spike let it fall at his feet, uninterested. He moved forward, the brazen grin that had given Faye pause just a moment again relaxing into one of his usual, casual expressions.
“Do you really think you’d be able to take me,” Spike murmured, “even if I didn’t?” He lunged, and Faye dodged, discarding her pillow along the way. If THAT’S how he wants to play… She rushed to the other side of the coffee table, while Spike shadowed her on the opposite side. For a moment they each made half-hearted feints towards each other, looking for an opening, until Faye thought she’d better take the chance. She dashed around the coffee table, but Spike was there to catch her, grabbing her arms. Faye struggled, but when she realized that his grip was too strong to break, she twisted into him, pressing her back against his chest.
“I know I could take you,” she gasped, breathless but determined to have the last word.
Spike’s breath was warm against Faye’s neck, his pounding heartbeat vibrating through several layers of fabric. “Why don’t you show—“
Without warning, Spike's grip on Faye slackened. A few seconds passed before he stepped back, freeing her from the cage that his arms had made around her. Only then did Faye realize that she and Spike were alone together. Where’d Ed run off to? She ran her fingers through her hair, alarmed at how unruly it had gotten, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The sound of retreating footsteps made her turn to see Spike making his way up the steps, his back to Faye and his hands in his pockets.
What happened? They’d been having fun, and then Spike… Faye raised her voice, pushing aside her confusion to focus on the fact that she hadn’t gotten the last word yet. “What’s the matter? Did I get you all hot and bothered?”
Spike paused at the top of the steps to glance halfway over his shoulder at Faye, his eyes revealing a distinct lack of amusement. “You wish.” With that, he continued on his way, while Faye stared after him until he had disappeared from her sight down the corridor. Though she told herself it didn’t matter, she found herself mentally replaying the interaction that had just taken place. Was it just her, or had Spike seemed… flustered?
Ugh. This wasn’t something that Faye needed to be thinking about right now. She set off on a quick tour around the room, collecting pillows and brushing them down and trying to ignore just how warm her face felt.
*
Spike made it halfway down the main corridor of the Bebop before determining that he’d put enough distance between himself and Faye Valentine. He leaned against the wall, reaching into his pocket and digging out a half-empty pack of cigarettes. With the first spark of his lighter, both the flame and his memories ignited, bringing to light a scene that he thought he’d buried in the recesses of his mind long ago.
“Oh, please.” Julia grinned into Spike’s neck, her arms trapping him from behind. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
Spike smirked. “It is when you’re holding out on me.” He made a careful, entirely harmless jab at Julia with his elbow, and she released her hold on him, flopping down onto the bed. Spike faced her, drinking in the curves of her body and her silky hair pooling around her head.
“Who says I’m holding out?” Playfully, Julia reached out, her hand curving as if to grab the back of Spike’s neck, but he easily pushed it away. He climbed on top of her, a knee on either side of her hips, unable to wipe the grin off his face.
“Look, if you think you can take me—“
“I don’t THINK,” Julia insisted. “I know I can.” Again she reached up, and this time Spike let her draw him down to her level. He pressed his cheek against her chest, sensing the steady drumbeat of her heart.
“Then show me.” His words were soft and languid, intending to draw out the moment as long as possible. “You mean in a fight, right?”
Julia’s response was to drag her fingers through Spike’s hair, before angling her head to press her lips to his forehead. “Whatever you want it to mean…”
The memory retreated as Spike lit his cigarette and inhaled. He waited a few seconds, before releasing a stream of smoke and with it, a quiet sigh.
He hated women with attitudes.