Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Things Change ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned them, then I'd be rich enough not to care if you sued, but since I don't, and I'm not, please refrain from taking legal action. Technically, Tsukigawa is mine, but it's not like it makes a difference. He won't make me rich.

I know this really sucks, but I just started writing fanfiction. This is only my second Cowboy Bebop fic, so sorry if it sucks. It's a bit OOC, but everything I've written (grand total of six stories) seems to be that way. Sorry. Please review. It would e greatly appreciated. I'll even like flames. Well, I like all flames except for the ones that are because it's shonen ai. All those flames will be sent to hell and used to roast their creators when they go there. Oh yes, this is indeed a Spike+Vicious Shonen Ai/Yaoi/Whatever you want to call it fic, so if you don't like it, don't read it. You've been Warned!

Now, on to the shit!

Things Change

He'd known from the first second he'd met Vicious that there would be no way for him to escape the man. He'd known that he would have strong connections to him, and he'd known that the stoic specter would change his life. The thing Spike hadn't been expecting, however, was the one thing that had happened to him. The one thing he refused to admit to himself. The one possibility he had not considered. He had not expected to fall for that pale, emotionless excuse for a partner. Unfortunately, he had.

Of course, just because it was the truth didn't mean Spike was going to accept it. Oh no, that was far too open for him. Instead, he would play those small desires he felt every time he was near the man, and those dreams he had when he wasn't off as lack of sleep, or food, or anything else that was remotely plausible. He would pretend that he didn't want to touch that pale skin, or kiss those soft lips, or soften that cold gaze. He would deny what he felt every time he watched Vicious go on a mission with out backup. He would renounce that pang of jealousy that sprung from the deepest places in his heart every time he saw Vicious with a woman. He would profess romantic love for a beautiful blonde woman who was like a sister to him. And most of all, he would ignore any thoughts he ever had about telling the man about what he was feeling. Or at least that's what he'd told himself. Then Vicious was hurt. Badly.

Spike had watched in utter terror as Vicious had collapsed on the floor of the syndicate building after filing his report, blood spilling from a messy gunshot wound. The bullet had apparently gone all the way through his stomach, causing enormous damage. How he had managed to hide that from the leaders was beyond Spike, but that wasn't what mattered right now. What mattered was that Vicious was kneeling at his feet, bleeding a river, and asking for help. What mattered was that, for some reason, Vicious didn't want anyone else's assistance. What mattered was that he trusted Spike with his life.

"Hang on." Spike whispered, kneeling next to Vicious and picking him up carefully, doing his best not to jar the wounded man. "You'll be okay." He said desperately, trying more to convince himself then the bleeding man in his arms. He carried vicious swiftly out into the deserted back alley, ignoring the fact that he was far to weak to carry something heavier than he was. "The Hospital?" he asked, making sure Vicious didn't mind being taken to a public place.

"Iie. Tsukigawa." He whispered, blood staining his cracked lips. Spike nodded. Vicious was right. Tsukigawa would understand, asking only what was necessary for treatment, and he would do a better job for less money and confidentially. He was surprised he'd forgotten that option. He turned the corner and approached his ship, opening the doors and placing the bleeding man lying across both of the seats. He then walked around to the driver's side, opening the door and lifting Vicious' upper half, sliding into the seat, and then laying Vicious' head in his lap. The ship was far too cramped for them in their current state, but they couldn't very well walk. He brushed silver bangs out of cold, dark eyes whispering,

"Hang on, Vicious. Please." He drove like a demon, ignoring all laws and out-running each of the sixteen cops that tried to make him pull over. He reached Tsukigawa's place in a record twenty-five minutes, considering it was two cities away. Once he had stopped his vehicle, Spike got out and then gently removed Vicious, wincing at the puddle of blood that had flowed from the other man. He strode quickly down the dark hallway, knocking once on the dingy door with his foot and then bursting in without waiting for an answer.

The room was dark, lit with a flickering yellow light. The paint on the walls was peeling, the floors were stained red, there was a set of gleaming tools hanging from the wall, and in the center of the room, there was a single operating table. Sitting at a desk in the corner of the room was an old, wrinkled man with wispy silver hair and inch thick glasses sitting delicately on a long hooked nose. "Tsukigawa! Now!"

The old man looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and gasped at the sight of the man in the doorway. He was drenched in blood that was still pouring from the burden in his arms. "Vicious…" he whispered hoarsely. "Put him on the table, Spike, quickly." Tsukigawa ordered sternly as he rose and began washing his hands. After a minute, he was at the table, stitching and cleaning and assessing damage. "This is bad, Spike. This is very bad. He's going to need weeks to recover. What happened?"

"I don't know. He didn't have backup on his last mission. He came back and gave his report. For some reason, he didn't want the leaders to know he got wounded, so he concealed it somehow. Afterwards, he came to me. He just collapsed there. Gods, Tsukigawa, help him."

"I'm working on it boy!" A harsh rasping near-yell escaped the doctor's throat as he worked. "He's lost a lot of blood. I don't see how he managed to stay conscious. Come here and hold him in case he fights." Spike obeyed, moving close to the table and gently pressing against Vicious' shoulders as Tsukigawa began sewing Vicious up. "I don't have time for sedation. I'm sorry Vicious, you'll bleed to death if I don't do this now." Vicious nodded weakly, and his gaze turned to Spike. His normally cold eyes were shining with unshed tears, and there was a pleading look in them, begging for comfort.

Spike couldn't take this much longer, he was freaking out. "Vicious, hold on. You'll be okay. I promise." Spike was near tears himself, just because he was so worried about Vicious. He loved Vicious. How could he have let him get hurt like this? Sure, it was only a gunshot wound, but that had to have been one nasty bullet.

"The bullet must have been triple shelled." The doctor rasped softly. "One for the explosion out of the gun. One for explosion within the target, and one to reveal the actual bullet which appears to have been walled with razors." Definitely a nasty bullet. That meant that it was the same as getting shot twice in the exact same spot and then having someone run a blade through the hole. Christ.

Spike started when he felt Vicious' finger brush over his, and he took the man's slender hand in his own, squeezing gently. "Painful?" he asked quietly.

"You have no idea." Came the choked sob of a reply.

Spike smiled, "Sshh. Don't talk." He leaned forward, brushing sweaty bangs out of Vicious' face. He felt the pale fingers tighten painfully around his as a grimace came over those features, and a groan emitted from Vicious' throat. Suddenly, the doctor did something causing Vicious to stiffen, screaming violently as pain ripped through his body. Spike's eyes widened in fear, and on reflex, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Vicious' mouth, swallowing his screams and his pain as well as his blood. Just as abruptly as he had stiffened, Vicious fell back, weakly pressing against Spike's lips, returning the kiss Spike hadn't ever meant to actually share with the one he loved. After a moment more, he pulled away, a gently worried smile on his lips. He turned to the doctor and said quietly, "Is it over?"

"Yup." Tsukigawa smiled, and then continued, "All that's left is the bandaging."

"Good." Spike whispered and then added, "How long will it take to heal?"

"Two weeks probably. Maybe longer. He'll need someone watching him constantly to keep him from doing anything. He's absolutely forbidden to go back to business until I say so." Tsukigawa smiled, knowing Spike wouldn't dare disobey his orders, judging from the little display he'd just shown. He chuckled slightly as he cut the bandages and tied them off.

"I understand."

"Yes, and I assume you both know how to take care of wounds, so I will let you do it on your own. I've given him painkillers, so you can take him now. Don't you dare leave him alone tonight or at all for at least the next week. I'll contact you about payment when I feel he is truly treated." He turned to Vicious now. "I expect you to let yourself be taken care of. Be glad Spike here is the one you chose to trust. You're decision was a good one. If you let him, I know he will heal you." The doctor smiled again, `in more than one way, too.' He added, mentally.

Vicious nodded and with Spike's help, sat up wincing at the pain that went lancing through is stomach. "Painkillers my ass." He growled. Spike just smiled, picking Vicious up off the table. "Hey, I can walk now!" The pale, still too heavy man all but shrieked.

"No you can't Vicious, don't lie to yourself." Spike said gently, shifting the taller form in his arms, providing a better hold on him. "Thank you, doctor." He said smiling.

"You're welcome Spike. Take care of him, and for Christ's sake, be more careful you two! I swear to god I see one of you in here every other week." Spike nodded and exited the room, pausing in the hallway to shift Vicious once again. He was surprised then to feel the taller man wrap his arms around his neck, burying his face in Spike's chest. He smiled brilliantly and continued walking, carrying Vicious back to his vehicle and settling the man gently in the passenger seat. As he was turning to get in on his side, Vicious caught his hand weakly. He turned back, leaning close to the other man.

"Thank you, Spike…for letting me trust you." Vicious' voice was soft and raspy, barely above a whisper, but still, utterly sincere. Spike could think of nothing to say in return, so he broke his golden rule for the second time that day. He leaned forward, brushing his lips lightly over Vicious', hoping that the pale man wouldn't kill him now that he was coherent. He almost fainted when he felt those soft, cracked lips pressing back against his, returning a kiss for the second time that day. He brought his hand up to cup Vicious' cheek, tipping the man's face up a bit, providing easier access. He soon felt Vicious' movements become more intense as he himself pressed deeper.

Spike shivered as the taller's tongue darted out, running over his chapped lips, moistening them and asking for entrance into his mouth. He complied immediately, parting his lips and allowing Vicious to taste him. He pressed as well, running his tongue over the other man's almost moaning at the sensation. And thus the battle for dominance ensued, lasting for quite a while until they were both forced to break for air. "Vicious," Spike panted quietly, wondering if he would regret saying what he wanted to. He decided it didn't matter. "I-I love you." Now it was done. To Spike's utter surprise, an uncharacteristically warm smile that looked incredibly right on Vicious' stoic features broke across the older man's face. He leaned forward, placing a short kiss on Spike's lips and replying almost inaudibly,

"I love you too, Spike. Only you." Spike smiled brilliantly, and kissed Vicious' forehead.

"We should get you home. You've had a rough day." And with that, Spike got in on his side and began driving. He said nothing in protest when Vicious laid down, resting his head in his lap again, he merely smiled. Though there was no real reason for hurry any more, Spike never really believed in the speed limit, so he had them at his house in a little over half an hour, leaving eight cops in the dust. When they reached his residence, he got out, and picked Vicious up out of his seat, carrying him up to his small apartment. The man had fallen asleep on the ride, and he now looked more peaceful then Spike had ever seen him. He walked inside, flipping on the lights and walking into his bedroom. He pulled back the covers on his bed and laid Vicious down. He then proceeded to remove their blood caked clothes, pulling a pair of long black pants onto Vicious, trying desperately to ignore the beauty of the man before him. He then took a short shower and pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants. As he crawled into his bed, Vicious moved close to him, wrapping pale arms around him and pressing close to him. Spike smiled and whispered quietly, "I love you." `God, so much for the Golden Rule.' He thought, and then, `Oh Well, I guess things change, don't they?' And with that single thought in his head, he let a peaceful sleep grip him. Things changed. In the past, they had changed. In the present, they were changing. It didn't occur to him that in the future, things would change again.