Work Text:
Spike kicked the door open, a laundry sack tossed over his shoulder and a glum look on his face as he scanned the drab looking laundromat. An older man napped in the corner of the room, a cigarette dangling loosely from his finger tips, casting a pile of ash to the floor.
Faye stepped in, shouldering Spike out the way. "Get out the way, I'm down to my last pair of--" She similarly examined the rows of dingy front loader washers and dryers that decorated the walls and floors.
"I'd rather stick with the broken washing machine on the ship." She sighed.
Jet backed into the shop, a large bin of clothes clasped in his hands.
"Jee, this place has a real nice atmosphere." He quipped.
He dropped the bin booming to the floor and the old man snapped awake, dropping his cigarette to the floor.
"Washers are 50 woolongs, dryers are 25. The ATM is right here." The old man croaked, patting a metal box under his butt.
"Thanks." Spike replied sarcastically, setting his bag on the floor in front of a washing machine.
"Y/N!" The old man yelled. "Yeah?" A voice answered from behind a curtain, likely covering a backroom.
"Y/N! You seen the cat?"
You opened the curtain peeking, out. "No, you were supposed to be watching her!" "I was watching her." "You fell asleep didn't you?" "NO!" He protested weakly.
Jet chuckled, cracking open a washing machine lid, only to find a cat napping inside.
"Grandpa! What if she ran away--" "'Scuse me." Jet interrupted. You turned to see the intimidating, towering man behind you. "She yours?" He cradled the sleepy cat in his arms, purring as he scratched under her strawberry blonde chin.
"Thank you!" You smiled, your grandpa breathed a sigh of relief.
"What kinda breed is she?"
"I don't know. There's so many cats running around in these streets, she's probably just a mix of some of them."
"She's real tame. Hard to believe she grew up a street cat."
"You'd be surprised by the good things the Earth still makes." You smiled, smoothing your finger across her ear. She crawled into your arms from his and he laughed nervously, blushing ever so slightly.
Spike looked on in quiet reverence, leaning against the empty dryer beside Faye. "Not even 15 minutes and Jet's already flirting with a woman."
"Hm?" Faye looked over to see Jet chatting with you and scoffed. "They're just talking."
"That's cuz you've never seen Jet flirt. Keep watching."
"You guys don't look like you're from around here. I'd call you missionaries, but I've never seen a missionary with a steel arm."
"You'd be right." Jet tapped his knuckles against his forearm, making a hollow knock. "Except it's technically lightweight brass." You marveled at him, a bit too excited all of a sudden.
He extended his hand and you watched his metal fingers uncurl into an open palm.
"Wanna touch it?" You nodded, though a bit hesitant as you dragged your finger along the rigid lines of his palm.
"Can you... feel anything?"
"Sure can."
He closed his hand around yours and you gasped, almost terrified before realizing his prank.
"Did I scare you?" He laughed.
You chuckled, "You're lucky I like pranks or my grandpa might have blown your head off."
Jet glanced over your shoulder to see your grandpa, hands clasped over his pot belly, snoring with a sawed off shotgun waiting behind his seat.
"I'll take your word for it."
"You should probably get to your clothes now, mister. We don't stay open too late around these parts."
"Does that mean you get off soo--" "Jet. Are you done talking? You've got the detergent and some of us need to actually wash our clothes." Faye interrupted and you laughed. The glare he sent her way mirrored hers.
"Don't worry. I know how to walk and chew gum at the same time."
He reached into his pocket, tossing a few pods Faye and Spike's way which they caught.
Jet turned around again to find you gone, disappeared, likely behind that curtain again. He sighed a bit disappointed when suddenly he felt something brush against his leg and he looked down to find the cat yet again.
"Guess the Earth ain't so bad."