Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

Hound Dog

WARNING: 18+ NSFW including masturbation, fantasies and angst

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You'd been on the Bebop for two weeks. You had only bagged a couple of minor bounties, making much less of a contribution than you had hoped for, but a contribution nonetheless. The crew had gotten used to you. All except one.

And he wasn't planning on getting used to you anytime soon.

Spike lay on the couch in the living room, meditating on the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Music played softly through his headset, a sultry, meandering jazz melody. He had the ship to himself for the day. Jet and (y/n) were running some errands, Faye had gone shopping, and Ed and Ein were doing their own thing, probably leaving a trail of chaos and destruction.

(Y/n) and Faye had tried to convince Ed and Ein to stay on the Bebop, but Jet came to their defense. He argued that they needed to get out now and then, or else they would go crazy. Spike didn't have the heart to tell Jet it was far too late for that. Spike stayed behind to "watch the ship". Privacy and solitude were rare on the Bebop, so he jumped at the opportunity for a relaxing day alone.

He had been spending most of his time in his room since you had been living on the ship, so he was happy to spend some time in the common areas. Once you got back, he thought, it's back to my room I go.

It was nice to have a change in scenery. He was getting tired of taking his meals and smoke breaks in parts of the ship that you didn't inhabit. He knew it was childish, but Spike didn't want to interact with you. He had decided to avoid you, counting down the days until you left the shop for good.

Spike tried to justify why he didn't want to be around you, but in reality, he didn't know. He kept thinking back to the night of the fire. You were only supposed to be a short fling, a one-night stand and nothing more. It seemed like you both understood that and were happy with that arrangement. You had both been egging it on. He didn't care about you hunting the bounty on Faye, that was hers to worry about.

With something that's only supposed to last for a night, there's no point in getting attached. There's barely any room to get attached anyway. But now, you were near him, a whole ship filled with lots of literal room to get attached. He had to push you away before anything could start.

Even after all these years trying to be completely numb to everything, especially human emotion, it pained Spike to hurt you. It got even worse when he would catch you staring at him. It was the same look you had when you lost your ship. Confused, but full of longing. He never acknowledged you. He just turned his head the other way.

After he closed the door to his room, he could live in his thoughts, feel his emotions. If he thought about you around others, he'd imagine they could peek into his head and see how much you were on his mind. The memory he spent the most time on was the first day you were on the Bebop.

You came down the stairs wearing his shirt and old shorts, asking about lunch. A few buttons were undone, revealing your collarbones and just a tantalizing sliver of your chest. The shorts showed off your alluring legs, which looked supple and soft to the touch. Your hair was messy, sticking out in all directions, and you were rubbing your eyes sleepily. Spike was so grateful that he was alone in the living room, that he got this memory all to himself. You were truly a sight, both elegant and adorable at the same time.

He craved to see you like that again. You were always attractive, but this one specific memory was one he loved. He imagined you sleeping next to him looking like that, with your arms wrapped around his torso and lost in pleasant dreams.

Stop it.

Opening his eyes, Spike stared at the ceiling. Feelings that were so hated, so feared, were coming back. He had succeeded at repressing them for a while after his departure from the Red Dragon Syndicate. Freedom came at a cost. Spike learned that people would do anything to save themselves, even if it meant cutting and running from the person that "mattered" most to them. It was a memory he tried to forget, but a lesson to be carried for a lifetime.