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There’s a saying.
There’s a saying he heard originated back on Earth, years and years and years ago. ‘If you love something, let it go…’ The rest that follows is some lovey-dovey, mumbo jumbo. Something stupid and overly sentimental- like couples he sees while on a job, still in their honeymoon phase. Something he finds hard to commit to memory and even harder to care about at this point. But he saying is older than him. Older than his ship. Probably older than time itself at this point. To him, it’s thrown around so carelessly that part of him thinks that it’s just how love works.
The fact that this phrase has lasted so long is a living testament to that. If after years and years, people still believe in things like being apart can make a heart grow fonder, then maybe it is true. Maybe it is the way to go about love. It probably survived every type of sacrifice by now. Every type of relationship. Every type of heartbreak. Misfortune. Lover’s quarrel. Lover’s loss. But it’s seen victory too. Enough to annoy him. Enough to plant the seed in his mind that maybe, just maybe this stupid lovey-dovey mumbo jumbo might actually be the real thing. And yet…
“Umm…Spike…?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re…you’re too close…”
The last thing on his mind is letting you go.
“I’m sorry, it’s just...” The words flow off of his lips so fluidly. The smile playing at his lips is equally easygoing as the way his eyes wander and trace the image of you in front of him over and over again. The way you play with your fingers. The way you shift your weight from left to right. The way you can barely hold his gaze. It’s all just too much for him. And the attention? He has a feeling it’s starting to become too much for you too. “...you’re looking so cute for me right now. It’s hard not to get a closer look, you know?”
But you don’t. You don’t know . It’s obvious from the way your face morphs from being unsure to downright embarrassed. But that’s okay. That’s what he expected. In fact, that’s what he wanted. You’re good for him. You’re good for everyone. Well-behaved. Docile. Cute. But it’s those wandering eyes of yours that get you in trouble. He knows the way you look at him when you think he isn’t watching. He knows how you hang on to his every word. He knows how you feel about his subtle touches and brushes against your skin. He knows what he does to you. And he likes it.
He likes you.
The face you pull for him is as priceless as it is cute. In fact, it’s so cute that he can’t hide his chuckles as he tilts down further to move closer to your face. Wide eyes that look up at him and a pair of quivering lips that sit in a pout. Your stance is rigid and stiff, and he swears he could knock you over if he just blew in your direction. But he’s not quite ready to do that just yet. You look nervous. In fact, you’re always nervous when you’re alone with him. Always . But this is one of those times when it’s different. But unfortunately for you, these are one of those times where all his attention is focused on you, and you alone.
It’s the sort of thing that just happens suddenly. The two of you will alone in the living room, and he’s got nothing better to do than clean his gun, take a nap, or watch for bounties. You’ll be keeping to yourself on the other side of the couch. Sparing him glances and longing little looks, but you’ll be distracted with whatever it is you do in your free time. And maybe he’ll take a look at you. See what you’re doing. Check up on you. Make sure you’re feeling alright since you’ve been quiet for so long.
And maybe he’ll take another look for good measure. And another because he likes looking at your profile. But he has to just fit one more good look at you in because the way you bite your lip when you’re focused starts to spark something inside of him. Now it’s one more glance- for real this time- because he caught you looking at him with that innocent gaze of yours.
And suddenly, he’s got you pinned up against the wall of the Bebop. One hand on your hip and right by your head. You’re shaking like a leaf, but he knows you’re not scared. He’s seen you scared and this isn’t it. No, no , this has nothing to do with fear. Nothing to do with nervousness or being embarrassed. Instead, it’s something less innocent. Something less docile as he leans in close and blows on your ear. Something less well-behaved as the squeak you let out sounds suspiciously like something else he’s been dying to hear from you. And that’s good. For him, at least. Because the last thing on his mind right now is letting you go. And there’s no easy way to say that. So he doesn’t.
Not until he’s had his fun, at least.
“ Spike !” Your whine comes almost immediately with his teasing. You try to turn your head away from him, but he knows you too well to let you get away from him that easily. Your chin is caught within his fingertips before you can even blink, and the look you give him is pitiful at worst, and everything at its best. “ Spike…I… ”
Your quiet words of protest trail off as he places an experimental kiss behind your ear. It’s testing the waters. Seeing how far he can take you. Seeing how far you can go. Seeing how much you can take. Seeing how much he can take. He’s human. He’s human, he’s human, he’s human and he has wants. Needs. Needs that he swears to himself that only you can fulfill. And right now, you look overwhelmed. You look dazed. Confused. And you’re warm to the touch. Too warm, even. But he swears. With every fiber of his being that still has the smallest bit of good left inside, he swears he feels like some type of monster now that he has you- really has you- all hot and bothered with nowhere left to go.
But he swears even harder that he’ll let you go the second you want him to stop.
“... what ?” The question feels heavy on his tongue when he asks it. When did it go beyond teasing? When did it go beyond trying to get a reaction out of his cutest crewmate? When did he start thinking about all the ways to make you smile? To make you flustered? To make you want him even more than he knows you do? “ ...what do you want from me?”
What do I want from you?
He wants to say he doesn’t know. He wants to. He wants to, he wants to, he wants to. Just like he wants to say that you’re not pretty when you’re excited and downright gorgeous when you’re pressed against him like this. Just like he wants to say that the way your fingers are shyly creeping up his arm isn’t affecting him. Just like he wants to say your doe-eyed stare isn’t getting to him. But he does know. And you are. You’re perfect the way you are, and you’re even more perfect when he has you like this. Testing the waters. Seeing how far you can go. Seeing how can he can go. And wondering…just wondering…
When he’s finally going to admit to himself that he may never be able to let you go.