Disclaimer: still don't own any of it.
He could smell her even before he stepped through the door. A light scent of vanilla and jasmine, mixed with restrained power, leather and sweat. Feminine and sensual. A low growl rose up in the back of his throat, as his gaze settled on her. She moved around the cage with an almost feline-like grace, avoiding each poorly timed attack from her opponent. His eyes narrowed, and another growl, louder this time, left his throat when she didn’t answer with one of her own.
She used her opponent’s momentum to flip him over her shoulder and pinned him to the ground with a knee in his chest. She glanced up at him then with a smirk and a mischievous gleam in her eye. Wolverine tensed almost unnoticeably. She had known he was there. He moved forward, intent on ending this game of hers. Halfway to the cage, an almost imperceptible shake of her head stopped him. She sent him a teasing grin as her next opponent stepped into the cage behind her.
Wolverine took a seat over at the bar. She wanted him to watch, he realized. Just like she had watched him fight last night. She wanted him to see what she was capable of before they had their fight. Wanted him to see firsthand that she wasn’t fragile, so he wouldn’t hold back with her. “Who is she?” he asked the bartender as a beer was set down in front of him.
He shrugged. “Goes by ‘Slayer’. She came in here last night for a while, drank a beer, watched a fight, and left. Came back tonight and wanted a go in the cage for herself. Everyone was a bit skeptical at first, she looks like a light wind could knock her over, but she proved that she can more than hold her own.” The bartender gave him a considering glance. “She could probably give you a good run for your money.”
Wolverine grunted noncommittally and turned back to watch the fight. There was no doubt about it; she could more than give him a run for his money. He wouldn’t be able to hold back at all with her. He hadn’t had a fight like that in a long time, and he was definitely looking forward to it.
Buffy could feel his eyes on her as she continued to fight her opponent, and it was slowly adding to her frustration. She needed to end the fight quickly before she accidentally hurt her opponent. She let him land a blow to her ribs and grabbed his arm. She twisted him around and pinned his arm behind his back. With a sharp blow to his head, being careful to temper most of her strength, Buffy let his unconscious body slide to the ground.
She paid little attention to the announcer as he declared her the winner. Her focus was on Wolverine. He was perched on the edge of his seat, body tense, breathing bordering erratic. His eyes were narrowed at her. He obviously hadn’t liked that last stunt of hers - letting herself get hit. She broke her gaze away from him as the announcer finished and walked over to the bar where he waited.
She silently slipped onto the barstool beside him and ordered a beer, not looking in his direction. The bartender set a bottle in front of her, and she took a long drink.
“What kind of a name is ‘Slayer’?”
She turned to him with a small smirk and raised a brow. “What kind of a name is ‘Wolverine’?”
“Logan,” he introduced himself.
It was his turn to raise a brow. “What kind of a name is ‘Buffy’?”
She shot him a glare. It faltered when she realized that he was just teasing her.
-----------------------to be continued…