bountyhead | × ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ

[ He's glad she's being polite and using the ash tray instead of being spiteful and ashing onto the floor instead. As the seconds drag on, he raises an eyebrow, finally looking over his shoulder at her, just in case she's got it written on her face like some kind of billboard.

Oh. A question. And... again with the awkward silence. It's clear from her body language and how she's practically murdering her cigarette that something's on her mind. Great. He only winces a little when she bumps into him, but he can't help the full-faced cringe as she flounders about trying -- and failing spectacularly -- to play it cool.

He chuckles a little and shakes his head. ]

You know, you're really bad at this. I thought you were some kind of trained liar or something, Faye.

[ Her little near-death experience there seems to have killed off some of the tension at least. For her own sake. She snuffs the rest of her cigarette out and briefly contemplates her life's decisions. The points that lead her to this moment. And then her thoughts, like a rat in a glue trap, get stuck on the memories of that night — there's no imagery to recall but the heat, and sounds, the way he tasted, and how he felt are all clearly defined and start reverberating heavily through her mind in a span of five seconds.

She shakes it off. ]

Bad at what? Asking questions? Because you're bad at answering them.

[ Faye leans back onto his bed, using her elbows to prop herself up, resuming an unbothered temperament. More avoidance. Typical. ]

No. Bad at pretending like everything's fine. Seriously, you suck at it.

[ He watches her lay back, wondering vaguely if she'd looked something like that when they were in her bedroom last. Instead of being completely obvious, he instead takes a drink from his bottle, welcoming the warm burn in his throat after his workout. He didn't need this. This is why he doesn't get involved with women anymore... It gets too complicated and weird too quickly.

Still, life is short. He of all people should know that. ]

The whiskey's good. Haven't had one this good in a while... Any other questions you think I'm avoiding?

[ Her lips tighten to a thin line and she mentally scolds herself for letting this get so terribly awkward; scolds the booze gods for the vodka not doing its job. She's even tempted to lash out and storm out of there at the risk of making things even more uncomfortable but with luck something keeps her there — exhaustion, maybe, from running from everything, always in fight-or-flight mode. ]

That's not entirely true.

[ Faye takes her headband off and runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. Fuck it. One mississippi, two mississippi... ]

There was a night that I called you drunk as a skunk and the conversation got personal. I think I asked you if you hated me. Do you remember that?

[ There's fuzz to some of those memories for her but she suspects that he'll have a better recollection. ]

[ How could he forget? It was such a weird conversation on top of it being late and extremely irritating, it was pretty notable otherwise. Rather than respond right away, he sucks at his cigarette and quietly dumps the ash in the tray while he tries to think of the best ways to counter any questions she might have about it or what he said. He was being honest for the most part, he thinks. No reason to stop with it now. Still, what if she reads too much into it or... what if there's a lot to read into it?

He's not sure he's ready for that. ]

Yeah. What about it? You got all existential and said you wanted to be friends and practically cried that we never really had deep conversations or anything.

[ Faye isn't ready either and that's why she's plowing at this going 100 mph. Fuck it, she tells herself, what is there to really lose? If this blows up in her face then at least she can say she tried. She doesn't want to ask the questions that she's positive he doesn't want to hear, let alone answer, but one of them had to be that person, right? They were going to reach this point eventually, right? ]

I didn't practically cr—look, I'm not about to go through that conversation with a fine-toothed comb but if that's how you remember it then okay.

[ She feels weirdly hurt that he'd frame it that way but she doesn't give herself the time to nitpick — there's a point she wants to make. ]

I never mentioned anything since because I wanted you to think I had forgotten about it. Or maybe I just wanted to think I could forget about it. Whatever the case may be, I didn't forget. I remember what you said.

[ I don't want you dead, he had told her. At least that was the part that she had latched to. It was something even when it wasn't the exact words she wanted to hear. She pulls herself up and faces him again, mustering up courage from somewhere, or maybe the vodka has circulated enough to dumb down any common sense. Her body language is unassertive to show she's not on the attack. ]

So I just wanted to know... if I asked you that question again, would the answer be the same?

[ If Faye's approach is to put the gas pedal to the floor when approaching such a touchy situation, then Spike's is to slam on the brakes. Feelings are... complicated, okay? And he's got more than his lion's share to sort through even before she started messing with his head.

He gives a short, half-hearted chuckle at the insistence that she wanted him to forget about their conversation. She didn't know any better, but he couldn't even if he tried. Still, the idea that she remembered his words... that was a little more troubling.

He doesn't move just yet, keeping his back toward her while he sucks passively on his cigarette. ]

Why would it change? Did you think I was lying?

I don't know. I—

[ I need to slow down, she thinks. Looking at Spike, she realizes he's a brick wall right now, and this would only end in a fantastic blaze if she didn't ease up on the pedal. That's not what she wants. She doesn't even know what she wants. Why did she even bother bringing it up? What was meant to be accomplished here? The weight on that imaginary pedal starts to ease up and her doubts emerge to slow her speed even more, just before she would've made impact. Faye forces out a sigh to break up the tightness in her chest and out come the words: ]

No. I didn't think you were lying.

[ Spike says what he means. There might be a lot about him that she doesn't understand but that was crystal clear from the start. Most notably in the way he treated her, referred to her. He wouldn't have bothered if he was only going to fib. But being that way that she is, Faye needs the lines to be more clearly defined. ]

I just... think you can afford to give me a more direct answer this time.

[ When he hears her sigh, he glances back toward her, just to make sure she hasn't made a move to leave. Why did he do that? He was perfectly fine before she intruded on his space, after all, but now that she's here... maybe he enjoys the company? Shit. ]

I don't know how I can get much more clear. I don't hate you. I don't have any reason to lie about that. What would be the point? To make you feel better? You really think I'd put that kind of stock into it? I even kinda like you sometimes.

[ He sighs out a cloud of smoke and ashes his cigarette in the tray. ]

I dunno what else you want me to say about it. I'm not all that complicated. [ a lie. ] And I don't want to be complicated. Especially with someone I live with. Isn't there enough shit to deal with without extra crap getting in the way?

[ Spike will meet Faye's unflinching gaze when he looks back, and she'll choose to hold it for all of ten seconds before his attention moves to something else, though hers will refuse to stray. I even kinda like you sometimes. She feels compelled to laugh out of habit — sometimes he says things that sound almost too uncharacteristic of him to be true and so she treats it as a joke and laughs. It wasn't the same this time. She gnaws at her bottom lip as warmth balloons in her chest and then in a windless voice she tells him: ]

Then let's not make it complicated.

[ He was right in that there was enough bullshit to wade through between them both — making things complicated meant muddying everything else up. She doesn't want it either. It's not much that she's asking for but she realizes that she isn't being very clear right now. That's when the weight on the mattress dips as she scoots closer, carefully sliding the ashtray towards him to make room. ]

I care about you, Spike. [ Oh, how easy that was to say and how impossibly sincere it sounded leaving her lips!! It's a little nerve-wracking but she keeps with the momentum, hoping he'll look at her and see it in her face too. ] And the only way I'll know that you care about me is if you say it. Just those four words. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. [ Simple as that. ]

[ He never asked for any of this. In fact, he respectfully requested the opposite. His own feelings for one woman were almost more than he could handle, but now he was expected to juggle another woman's feelings along with his own toward her on top of his own problems? How the hell was that fair?

Still, her affirmation of her caring about him strikes him in a way he doesn't expect it to, and he finds he actually has to keep his focus on the floor in front of him to stop him from actively exposing his curiosity. He can sense the vulnerability in her voice, and he's not sure he can look at her and keep his head clear. ]

I have a feeling you want me to say more than that.

Like what? I just told you what I want to hear you say.

[ It's frustrating because in her mind, this is as simple as can be and he's actively working on making it difficult. At the same time, she's growing a little restless, defensive even, that he hasn't said it and is preparing to place blame somewhere for things not going smoothly. But what she needs to realize is that Spike is a person with feelings just like everyone else. That she comes on too strong and too fast when she's overpowered by her emotions. Emotions that she has not yet been equipped to deal with. She subtly clenches one of her hands and releases and thinks: please don't make me regret this. ]

Don't play dumb. You know what.

[ He might not be actively trying to be difficult to make her mad, but he does need to think of himself, and his own injured heart. There were many reasons he didn't like to get involved with women, and it seems as though his instinct was right once again. It was always a mess at the end of the road.

But finally after a moment of silent contemplation and another puff from his cigarette he finally speaks up. ]

I care about you, all right? It's... nice to have more than one person have my back now and then.

[ Faye wasn't playing but it's obvious what he's implying. It takes a lot for her not to fly off the handle in outrage and confusion. She wants to know why he went there, why he thinks she expects that, but focuses all that building tension in a clenched fist to keep her anchored so she wouldn't bolt out the door. They've gotten this far. She's gotten this far and still she wants to run. She would've run. And then he says it.

Her silence stretches on after he's finished speaking, enough to cause some alarm when she doesn't speak for longer than was comfortable. The air was so still that the smoke from his cigarette lifts straight up and hangs like an uneven halo above his head and she's staring. If he were to turn around to look at her then, he would catch the fondness as it starts to bleed into her expression. ]

It is nice having someone there. [ It's even nicer being able to admit that out loud. ] Thank you... for being there.

[ It's strange, but he can actually feel the tension in the air lift when she speaks. Some strange new milestone in their already stupid and complex relationship. He's not certain if he's grateful for it, for having something a little more clearly defined between them, or if he's just making things harder for himself. Faye is trouble, and he knows it... but then, so is he, and he's perfectly aware of it.

Still, this leaves some questions in the air that he's not sure he really wants answered. Instead he finishes off the whiskey she brought for him and turns the bottle over in his hand. ]

Same to you. Even if you suck at wrapping bandages, it's better than bleeding out, I guess.

[ Spike, can't you ever just say something nice and leave it at that? ]

[ If he doesn't expect the smack that she delivers to his arm, he's slacking!! It isn't hard enough to render an injury unlike the hit she landed on his junk but he'll get the idea all the same. Faye emits a small sigh of relief and finds herself relaxing a little more now that they've reached the peak of the hill and are coasting down the other side. No other expectations are limiting her from behaving casually and so perhaps the tension in the air begins to dissipate. Surely the alcohol helps in that — she notices Spike has finished his bottle off and so she goes to take another drink of her vodka before setting it back down again, trying to keep up. ]

So... what's the damage like?

[ She leans in against him and peers down at his lap, acting a little too casual now. ]

Can I see?

[ He shouts and hisses when she hits him, grumbling over his shoulder at her. Well, at least that's all the same. He had expected it, but just like every time she hits him, he at least hopes it isn't coming. When she sidles up against him, he raises an eyebrow at her, wondering just what she's doing or what angle she's working. ]

It's sore and bruised. Not a pretty sight. Why would you want to see it?

What can I say? I like to admire my work.

[ Jokingly, of course, although she doesn't expect Spike to laugh. She knows he won't laugh and maybe that's where she finds the humor in it. A suggestive smirk sits on her lips as she reaches over and playfully hooks a finger into the band of his pants, pretending to peer inside as she pulls on on it. She expects to see skin but won't see much more than a flash of color from his boxers before either he smacks her away or she lets go. ]

Just kidding. I'm human, Spike, and humans are curious creatures. [ pause ] I thought maybe the whiskey would be helping by now at the rate you guzzled it down. I've never pegged you to be a vodka drinker but you can have some if you need it.

[ And he doesn't laugh, and instead just narrows his eyes at her. Here he was sitting in pain because of her and she's teasing him about admiring her handiwork? When her finger tugs at his waistband, he grumbles and swats her hand away, still apparently rather upset about the whole ordeal. Apparently good whiskey isn't enough to completely fix his mood and make him forgive her after all. ]

Knock it off. You're telling me you tried to get me drunk to look at my dick or something?

[ In her defense, she hadn't gotten a look at it before, but he wasn't really the type to show it off, either. Not that he wasn't proud of it, but it just wasn't his style. ]

You hit your head or something while you were out?

[ It starts in the back of her throat: a low, bubbling hum of laughter. Then it starts to build, amplify to something more distinct, until Faye is tilting her head back and cackling. "—get me drunk to look at my dick?" has her so beyond tickled. The way Spike thinks is truly fascinating and sometimes. What an idiot. ]

How old are you, fifteen?

[ A question she has to fight through bouts of breathless amusement to ask. She falls back onto the bed and continues to chuckle to herself, wiping tears away and emitting a big ol' sigh as the hilarity starts to die away. ]

I didn't hit my head. I didn't get you drunk to look at your dick— [ she almost starts laughing again but catches herself. ] I'm just trying to be nice and make up for what I did to you. That's what any regular person would do right? What a considerate person would do? Right. That's all.

[ Is it really that funny? Her laughter does nothing to help his mood, and in fact seems to do a great job at making him even more sour toward her. He knows she really doesn't mean anything by it, but it still stings... a little. Not that he'd say anything to admit it, of course. He's got far too much pride to take being laughed at well. As payment for his embarrassment, he snatches up her vodka and takes a big swig of it... which he almost immediately regrets. Today's lesson: Vodka is not whiskey.

He coughs and pulls the bottle back to look at it like it punched his mother. ]

Do you always drink this cheap crap? How the hell do you stand it?

[ But that doesn't stop him from taking another -- more reasonable -- sized drink before passing it back to her. ]

Yeah, I guess so. Not really sure what I expected, exactly. ...Thanks.

[ It always catches her off guard when he's unnaturally expressive like that; triggers another belly laugh because it was kind of funny. She stops to watch him guzzle down more for the second time and slowly props herself up on her elbows, a slanted smile on her face as she enjoys his reaction from a better angle. ]

I get more for less and it gets me really drunk.

[ Faye grabs the bottle when it's offered. It's a damn bargain and that's something to be grateful about. She takes a confident swig but will soon make a similar face when she swallows — part of her wants to hurl but she sucks it up like a true champ. ]

Wasn't the whiskey like, 90 proof?

[ It seems like it barely even touched him. She hands the bottle back over. ]

The vodka is 100. Maybe it'll work its magic better.

Yeah, but whiskey has flavors. Notes. And doesn't taste like a medical kit.

[ He suddenly wishes he had more whiskey, but she's right, it does do the job. He can feel it starting to burn and warm him from the inside. Not quite like the whiskey did, which felt like a warm, comforting fire, but this felt more like a forest fire. Still works, but not nearly as pleasant.

He watches her drink from it and can't help but smirk when she similarly makes a face like he had. ]

Yeah, that's what I thought.

[ He takes the bottle again and looks it over. It's strong, but definitely cheap going by the plastic bottle and generic-looking label. No wonder it tastes so bad. ]

I think you're supposed to mix this with stuff to drown out the flavor. At least, that's what you should do.

[ He holds his nose and takes another drink, giving a very undignified shudder when he passes it back to her. ]

Be thankful I'm even sharing at all.

[ That's her best means of protest to his complaints against vodka because she absolutely agrees with him. It's horrible but like hell if it wasn't effective. He mentions mixing it for easier consumption as if she's never thought of that and from where she lies, she shoots him a weak glare. ]

Gee, I didn't know that was something I should do. Maybe I wasn't expecting you to start drinking off mine because your pricey whiskey didn't do the trick.

[ The feeling to stick her tongue out like an angry toddler comes and goes. She's already reached a small buzz and is more or less waiting on Spike to catch up. There's less clashing when alcohol is involved — unfortunately and fortunately. It's not like they don't deserve a reprieve from the same old same old now and again.

Faye rolls onto her side to face him and takes the bottle when it returns to her. ]

When I have the financial stability to be picky about the liquor I buy, I'll never be caught dead with this crap. But in the meantime... [ She takes another swig and makes a face, holding it out to him like, please get this shit away from me. ] ... pass me another cigarette, will ya?

Hey, I didn't tell you to go out and buy it. And you offered to share, anyway.

[ He holds up a hand when she offers it back to him, already starting to feel his body protest against the rotgut liquor he'd put in it. He reaches for the cigarettes and taps one out of the pack, holding it back for her to take. ]

So how much do you even remember from last night? You hit the bar pretty quick when we got there.

[ He turns to face her a bit more casually, leaving one foot on the floor and careful not to stretch too much or move too quickly. If they're going to have a conversation, at least he can look at her. ]

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thank you for your patience!! ♡

It's always worth it!

smooches u!

♥

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