(no subject)
Author's Note: fullonobiwan, this one's for you. Filling the request of Fight Club!Miles. References made to here, here, and here.
Miles finished wrapping his wrists idly, making sure to leave what would soon be bloody knuckles completely bare. There were a few small scars from the time before last that he'd done this, a particularly nasty fight with a guy he never should've been put up against. Too big, too strong, and too brutal. Naturally, he'd been promised that wouldn't happen again.
Although he couldn't see why. It'd been kind of fun. He even remembered it all once the concussion had passed.
This would have to be the last fight for a while, he had a lot coming up and too many people would bitch about him being laid up because another guy tried to take their pound of flesh. Some might see this as justified concern, Miles viewed it as annoying whining he had to stop. He'd maybe hang out later, watch a few fights, yell running commentary along with the rest of the crowd like he was one of them more than one of the guys in the cage. But as far as actual fights went, this would definitely be it. For now.
Just meant he had to have as much fun with this new guy he'd been hearing about. Kick his fucking ass in, and go out on top with tons of people buying him victory drinks. He looked forward to it.
"Miles, you ready?"
Miles tightened the last of the bandage and pinned it down, looking over his shoulder at Vic Palfrey, the guy who ran all the fights. He grinned. "Yeah, sure." He turned to face him, following him out of one of the two dressing rooms they allowed all the fighters. 'Dressing rooms' being code for dark and dirty little shitholes they tossed them into so they could get ready. But no one ever really seemed to mind that. "Who's the other guy?"
"Some dickhead who volunteered to fill in for Charlie. Rona never mentioned his name when she picked him out of the crowd." And Vic looked so happy about that.
"What're you, jealous?" Miles asked sarcastically, walking past the other man and ignoring the muttered cursing and general insults as he went up to the ring. Rona, Vic's girlfriend and the permanent emcee of these little events, announced him as he came up the stairs and the cage door was opened for him.
This was the part that usually got Miles pumped up. Those that knew him were already making as much noise as possible, those that didn't just yelled with the rest for the hell of it. He grinned, giving a small wave to the crowd, and turned to face the new guy. The one that was already waiting for him.
"... Fuck, are you kidding me?"
"Gee, Lawson, it's great to see you again too." Dean laughed, standing on the other side of the cage in all his smug glory over Miles's surprise.
"What, are you fucking stalking me?"
"You wish." Dean pushed off the side of the cage and cracked his knuckles, psyching himself up for what was coming next. "Y'know, we never got to finish the first fight we had."
Miles finished his abject staring at that, and smirked lightly. "No, we didn't." He'd actually been contemplating a rematch the last time he'd seen him, but Dean'd been a shitfaced mess. You don't fight shitfaced messes. It's unethical. Especially when they're Just Married Shitfaced Messes. "Still with Carmen?"
"Yep." A short nod, and back to psyching. Assessing weak points, plotting out moves, the whole nine yards. "Still with Lorelai?"
"Yep." Miles began doing the same, although he had a general idea of where to go from the first time they'd done this. "Think any tentacle demons're going to bust in, or--"
Miles's jab was cut off abruptly by a highly irritated Rona. "Are you two done babbling, or do you want another couple minutes?"
Both Miles and Dean looked startled, seeming to have temporarily forgotten Rona, the crowd, and the cage. Rona sighed, and glared at them. Miles nodded. "Yeah, we're set."
"Set." Dean agreed, and looked back at Miles. They grinned at each other.
Rona just gave a derisive snort. "Okay." She turned back to the crowd. "Let the games begin!" And with the applause and other incoherent yelling that followed, she got out of the cage, muttering to herself just like her boyfriend was so prone to doing. As soon as she closed the cage door, the bell went off.
"She's kinda hot." Dean said absently, blocking the first swing Miles took when he came at him, and taking a right hook across his face.
Miles shrugged, throwing an uppercut with his right followed by a sharp left hook. "She's not bad." He wouldn't go for it though. He grinned wide when Dean stumbled back a step. "Come on, Winchester," He came after him. "Can't you take a pu--"
If Miles hadn't broken his nose multiple times throughout his life, the punch that nearly broke it all over again might've pissed him off a little. "Yeah, I think I can." Dean rolled his eyes, and shrugged at him, smirking when Miles recovered.
"Jackass." And yet, Miles was still laughing. He felt a draw coming on, but that wasn't an issue. It'd still be fun. And they'd just have to buy each other the victory drinks.
While he was at it, he'd ignore the entire bar looking at them like they were insane. That would be no big deal. It was, after all, true.
Miles finished wrapping his wrists idly, making sure to leave what would soon be bloody knuckles completely bare. There were a few small scars from the time before last that he'd done this, a particularly nasty fight with a guy he never should've been put up against. Too big, too strong, and too brutal. Naturally, he'd been promised that wouldn't happen again.
Although he couldn't see why. It'd been kind of fun. He even remembered it all once the concussion had passed.
This would have to be the last fight for a while, he had a lot coming up and too many people would bitch about him being laid up because another guy tried to take their pound of flesh. Some might see this as justified concern, Miles viewed it as annoying whining he had to stop. He'd maybe hang out later, watch a few fights, yell running commentary along with the rest of the crowd like he was one of them more than one of the guys in the cage. But as far as actual fights went, this would definitely be it. For now.
Just meant he had to have as much fun with this new guy he'd been hearing about. Kick his fucking ass in, and go out on top with tons of people buying him victory drinks. He looked forward to it.
"Miles, you ready?"
Miles tightened the last of the bandage and pinned it down, looking over his shoulder at Vic Palfrey, the guy who ran all the fights. He grinned. "Yeah, sure." He turned to face him, following him out of one of the two dressing rooms they allowed all the fighters. 'Dressing rooms' being code for dark and dirty little shitholes they tossed them into so they could get ready. But no one ever really seemed to mind that. "Who's the other guy?"
"Some dickhead who volunteered to fill in for Charlie. Rona never mentioned his name when she picked him out of the crowd." And Vic looked so happy about that.
"What're you, jealous?" Miles asked sarcastically, walking past the other man and ignoring the muttered cursing and general insults as he went up to the ring. Rona, Vic's girlfriend and the permanent emcee of these little events, announced him as he came up the stairs and the cage door was opened for him.
This was the part that usually got Miles pumped up. Those that knew him were already making as much noise as possible, those that didn't just yelled with the rest for the hell of it. He grinned, giving a small wave to the crowd, and turned to face the new guy. The one that was already waiting for him.
"... Fuck, are you kidding me?"
"Gee, Lawson, it's great to see you again too." Dean laughed, standing on the other side of the cage in all his smug glory over Miles's surprise.
"What, are you fucking stalking me?"
"You wish." Dean pushed off the side of the cage and cracked his knuckles, psyching himself up for what was coming next. "Y'know, we never got to finish the first fight we had."
Miles finished his abject staring at that, and smirked lightly. "No, we didn't." He'd actually been contemplating a rematch the last time he'd seen him, but Dean'd been a shitfaced mess. You don't fight shitfaced messes. It's unethical. Especially when they're Just Married Shitfaced Messes. "Still with Carmen?"
"Yep." A short nod, and back to psyching. Assessing weak points, plotting out moves, the whole nine yards. "Still with Lorelai?"
"Yep." Miles began doing the same, although he had a general idea of where to go from the first time they'd done this. "Think any tentacle demons're going to bust in, or--"
Miles's jab was cut off abruptly by a highly irritated Rona. "Are you two done babbling, or do you want another couple minutes?"
Both Miles and Dean looked startled, seeming to have temporarily forgotten Rona, the crowd, and the cage. Rona sighed, and glared at them. Miles nodded. "Yeah, we're set."
"Set." Dean agreed, and looked back at Miles. They grinned at each other.
Rona just gave a derisive snort. "Okay." She turned back to the crowd. "Let the games begin!" And with the applause and other incoherent yelling that followed, she got out of the cage, muttering to herself just like her boyfriend was so prone to doing. As soon as she closed the cage door, the bell went off.
"She's kinda hot." Dean said absently, blocking the first swing Miles took when he came at him, and taking a right hook across his face.
Miles shrugged, throwing an uppercut with his right followed by a sharp left hook. "She's not bad." He wouldn't go for it though. He grinned wide when Dean stumbled back a step. "Come on, Winchester," He came after him. "Can't you take a pu--"
If Miles hadn't broken his nose multiple times throughout his life, the punch that nearly broke it all over again might've pissed him off a little. "Yeah, I think I can." Dean rolled his eyes, and shrugged at him, smirking when Miles recovered.
"Jackass." And yet, Miles was still laughing. He felt a draw coming on, but that wasn't an issue. It'd still be fun. And they'd just have to buy each other the victory drinks.
While he was at it, he'd ignore the entire bar looking at them like they were insane. That would be no big deal. It was, after all, true.