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momebieI wrote this at work. I like it. I have no where to post it. No one cares about Cowboy Bebop anymore. Whatever, you guys might like it. Short and angsty, just the way I like 'em. Let me know if you read it, yeah?
~*~
Spike stood on the corner, letting the droplets of rain run down his hair and into his face. Any harder, and it would have put out his cigarette. Just one more of life’s little tragedies. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. The smoke lingered and condensed in the open space in front of him. The rain slowly washed it from the air. He breathed in deeply enjoying the smell of the smoke, and the beautiful wet, and the city. The city always smelled best before a job, perhaps it didn’t want his spirit, were he to die, to remember it for the shit hole it really was. Not that the city needed his favor anyway, there were enough ghosts in its alleyways. Some of them put there by him.
He took another drag of his cigarette, this time another smell filled the air. It was the smell of happiness and warmth, mixed with a tinge of sweat and doubt. He listened as the familiar footsteps approached. “When did you turn into a woman?” he asked, exhaling another doomed puff of smoke.
“Funny, very funny, as always,” Vicious stopped next to him on the corner and lit a cigarette of his own. Neither of them had smoked before joining the syndicate, but something about being confronted with your own mortality regularly made a man more likely to come to enjoy things he knew could kill him. It was a race to see who would take care of it first, the cigarettes, or himself.
“You’re late. You need to tell whoever that god awful stench belongs to that this business always comes first. She can wait.”
“What if I die here, Spike? What of her then?”
“What do you care? You’ve got what you needed for now. That’s the way you told me it was, right? Take what you can, while you can?”
Vicious smirked around the cigarette in his lips and nodded. Sodden ash fell to the sidewalk. Spike watched the small mound as it hit the cement and then washed even with the sediment in the gutter. “Do I sense some jealousy, my friend?”
“Hmmph,” Spike took a moment to be amused by the idea. “What is there to be jealous of? I get to see your awful mug more than I want.”
“I think you misunderstood.”
“I understood perfectly.”
They stood in the rain, smoking together, feeling the comfort and understanding that no woman, no one outside of the syndicate could give them. Vicious raised his wrist to check his watch, and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “It’s time.”
Spike nodded and dropped his own cigarette, leaving it to flare in the grayness. He followed Vicious across the street and pulled the gun from its holster as Vicious opened the door to the store front that was their target. A man inside shouted and sharp, dry gunfire startled the quiet sogginess of the rain. Spike paused before entering and took another deep breath. He had only been fooling himself earlier. The whole city smelt of pain and jealousy and death. He would do his job without thought and remorse; send more ghosts to populate the alleys. There was nothing beautiful about it.
~*~
In other news, the pretty, angsty boys have eaten my brain. Vash and Nicholas are fighting quietly in a corner while Spike quizzes Ed and Al on where they found such a hunk of junk, and exactly how much he can get them to let him have the scrap metal for. *sigh* Make the sickness end!!
Off to beta for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cock_a_snook!
Spike stood on the corner, letting the droplets of rain run down his hair and into his face. Any harder, and it would have put out his cigarette. Just one more of life’s little tragedies. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. The smoke lingered and condensed in the open space in front of him. The rain slowly washed it from the air. He breathed in deeply enjoying the smell of the smoke, and the beautiful wet, and the city. The city always smelled best before a job, perhaps it didn’t want his spirit, were he to die, to remember it for the shit hole it really was. Not that the city needed his favor anyway, there were enough ghosts in its alleyways. Some of them put there by him.
He took another drag of his cigarette, this time another smell filled the air. It was the smell of happiness and warmth, mixed with a tinge of sweat and doubt. He listened as the familiar footsteps approached. “When did you turn into a woman?” he asked, exhaling another doomed puff of smoke.
“Funny, very funny, as always,” Vicious stopped next to him on the corner and lit a cigarette of his own. Neither of them had smoked before joining the syndicate, but something about being confronted with your own mortality regularly made a man more likely to come to enjoy things he knew could kill him. It was a race to see who would take care of it first, the cigarettes, or himself.
“You’re late. You need to tell whoever that god awful stench belongs to that this business always comes first. She can wait.”
“What if I die here, Spike? What of her then?”
“What do you care? You’ve got what you needed for now. That’s the way you told me it was, right? Take what you can, while you can?”
Vicious smirked around the cigarette in his lips and nodded. Sodden ash fell to the sidewalk. Spike watched the small mound as it hit the cement and then washed even with the sediment in the gutter. “Do I sense some jealousy, my friend?”
“Hmmph,” Spike took a moment to be amused by the idea. “What is there to be jealous of? I get to see your awful mug more than I want.”
“I think you misunderstood.”
“I understood perfectly.”
They stood in the rain, smoking together, feeling the comfort and understanding that no woman, no one outside of the syndicate could give them. Vicious raised his wrist to check his watch, and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “It’s time.”
Spike nodded and dropped his own cigarette, leaving it to flare in the grayness. He followed Vicious across the street and pulled the gun from its holster as Vicious opened the door to the store front that was their target. A man inside shouted and sharp, dry gunfire startled the quiet sogginess of the rain. Spike paused before entering and took another deep breath. He had only been fooling himself earlier. The whole city smelt of pain and jealousy and death. He would do his job without thought and remorse; send more ghosts to populate the alleys. There was nothing beautiful about it.
In other news, the pretty, angsty boys have eaten my brain. Vash and Nicholas are fighting quietly in a corner while Spike quizzes Ed and Al on where they found such a hunk of junk, and exactly how much he can get them to let him have the scrap metal for. *sigh* Make the sickness end!!
Off to beta for
cock_a_snook!
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 04:56 am (UTC)Yay for the ficlet -- I vote for a CB renaissance! Just without the residual outbreaks of plague...
no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 11:41 am (UTC)That plague can be tricky. I figure we'll just sidestep it for now.