Space Cowboy - Spike Spiegel x Reader One Shots

By Myself

It was so hard to stand up straight. You wanted to fall over onto the ground and scream at the top of your lungs, but you didn't want to worry the others. It was pure agony. The bullet grazed your thigh, leaving behind not a life threatening injury, but enough to make you want to end it all.

Spike was the one who turned in the bounty, leaving you and Jet to head back to the Bebop to patch up and recover. The whole walk (or limp) back, you decided it was best to keep this to yourself. You didn't want the boys to fawn all over you, tending to your every need like a little baby. You've managed to handle yourself just fine all this time, why should this be any different?

"You're limping pretty bad. How bad is it?" Jet questioned, offering his arm for you to support yourself on.

"Just twisted my ankle in the process. I'll get some ice and I'll be fine." You lied.

Jet smirked. "Is it because you have two left feet?"

"As you can see, I am very sensitive right now, so choose your next words wisely."

Grabbing an ice pack, you inspected your wound in your room. Remnants of dried blood coated your leg, with fresher blood threatening to spill from your deep cut. Cleaning it as best you could, you slowly threaded the wound close. Since you didn't have anything to numb you, it was difficult to continue without making any noise. Shaky hands finally completed, a sloppy but finished job.

After patching it up, you cleaned the rest of yourself and crawled into bed carefully. This week would bring some peace and relief. At the time, patching yourself up seemed like a really good idea. Big mistake. Huge.

A day after, your pain subsided, close enough to feel nothing. But today was too different. Waking up, a searing pain erupted from your stitches. You threw back the covers, watching in horror as the large white bandage wrapped around your thigh turned a deep red.

Before real panic could settle in, there was a knock at the door.

"It's me." Spike's voice rang out.

Hissing expletives under your breath, you covered your legs with your blanket. Hopefully you don't stain the sheets.

"What do you want?" You asked, keeping a playful tone to veil your agitation.

"Let me in and I'll tell you." He replied.

"Come in." You sighed.

The door opened with a puff of smoke following Spike. Sitting on your desk, he positioned himself to face you.

"So what's up?" You questioned, your gash throbbing intensely.

"Couldn't stay in there with the rest of them. Got too loud and I wanted peace and quiet." He stated.

"So you come to my room?" You scoffed, your pain obstructing you from laughing. "I'm the last person for that."

Chuckling, he nodded. "You're good company."

Clutching your thigh, you tried to take slow, quiet breaths p. It did not hurt this much before you put in the stitches.

"Anything planned today, kid?" Spike asked, offering his cig to you.

You shook your head, pushing his hand back. "Yeah, it includes not coughing my lung up."

Shrugging, Spike began to ramble about what was going to spend his day. The conversation was one sided, spiraling into a philosophical lesson about how our days are numbered and we should live it to new fullest everyday. That was your takeaway from the conversation. You don't know much about others, but it was super hard to concentrate when you're bleeding out.

It got to be too much. Your dread turned to panic once more as you felt something wet on your fingers. You looked down, seeing your blanket begin to soak in your blood, turning the fabric from a tan to a dark brown. Tears pricked at your eyes, a signal that your body was crying out for help. Rubbing your tears away and playing it off as sleepiness was a smart move. What followed next was an obvious sign you were in deep trouble.

"Hey, Jet told me about you last night. But since you handled it, I'm guessing you're okay." Spike said, oblivious to you writhing in pain.

"Oh, yeah?" Your voice shook. Slowly blinking, it grew harder and harder to form words. You were slipping away. Dizziness replaced fear, luring back to unconsciousness. You were bleeding out and you couldn't stop it.

Spike's brows furrowed, his body shifting from relaxed to high alert. "Kid, you okay?"

Getting up, he rushed to your side. "Hey, hey, hey. Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

Shaking your head, your vision blurred into black. You could hear Spike yelling for help, the thunderous sound of Jet's footsteps rushing in to take you down to the makeshift medbay.

"Come on, (Y/N). Stay with me. Please."

Stuck in a dream-like state, you came back to life. Laying on the couch in the living room, ache and soreness hung heavy on you. Glancing down, your thigh looked like someone wrapped at least two rolls of toilet paper around it. Without a doubt, you felt a hell of a lot better.

Eyes traveling around the room, finally settling on Spike who was sitting so close to you on his chair, you could feel his breath on you. Leaning his head in his hand, his gaze on you never wavered. As your eyes met, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"How do you feel?" He asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Blushing, you shrugged.

"Achy, but I think I'm fine." You mumbled.

Realizing you both were alone, you weakly reached out, cusping Spike's jaw in your hand, rubbing your thumb along the underside.

"I should have told you." You admitted. Spike gently took your hand into his, bringing your palm to his lips.

"You scared me." He whispered, sadness cloaking his voice. "Don't ever do that again."

"I didn't want to worry you. You know how I like to do stuff, all by myself." You replied, your heart racing as Spike peppered the back of your hand with more kisses.

"All by yourself." He repeated. "Understandable, but if it's something like that, you need to tell me."

Emotion welled in your eyes and throat. Spike really cared about you. There were times that showed his softer side, but not like this. This love and affection made your heart swell even more.

"I can't lose you."

Spike leaned down, planting a soft, passionate kiss to your lips. His touch was definitely the best medicine. The way his lips moved against yours relaxed you even more. You returned the favor, your hand reaching up to bring him closer to you.

"I promise you." You pulled back. Smiling faintly, he motioned for you to scoot over. Confused, you tried your best without trying to do any more damage to your thigh. Taking notice, Spike gently lifted your torso, sitting down on the couch. He tenderly brought your body back down, you head in his lap. Sighing, you ran your hand up his chest, making small circles in his sternum.

Spike hummed in response, his hand resting on your stomach. You loved how comfortable you both were around each other, a silence not awkward at all. As long as you had him in your corner, his shoulder to lean on, you could have no care in the world. Except him.

I know how to make you feel even better." Spike said.

"Hmm, how's that?" You asked.

"Let me sing for you."

"No."

Spike chuckled. "Worth a shot."

- 

  [A/N] a request that I wanted to do SO BAD, thank you so much @rxvxr on tumblr for this idea. The angst one can feel from writing gives me so much life. Currently trying to finish the next chapter of Life is but a Dream, and you may see some new one shots with all of our favorite space princes 👀 (we'll throw in a couple of a bounty hunters with a small green gremlin to take care of too.)