Control Me, Console Me
Title: Control Me, Console Me
Authors:karlacocaine trini_vengeance
Pairings:James Hart/Mick Morris (many more to come)
Rating:NC-17
Disclaimer: Fake, didn't happen, made up stuff. The end.
Summary: I need another hit of you.
A/N: Hai thurr! So Karla and I decided to collaborate on a story and this is the first chapter! Don't worry, Rather Be Caught Dead updates will be here soon but I gotta say, it's refreshing writing something that's not so emotionally charged! =] Points to anyone who can distinguish Karla's writing from mine lol XD
James Hart sat with his head bowed, unfocused eyes on the text in front of him. Hidden behind the thin walls of the small cubicle he was situated in at his university’s library, the college junior was able to relax with the sounds of Mötley Crüe’s Dr. Feelgood. It was in this little cubicle that James was able to leave all of the crap behind if even for an hour and gather his thoughts. It was here that James often found himself after yet another heated argument with his boyfriend and roommate, Mick.
James had met Mick in his freshman year when he frantically rushed his wheezing four month old kitten, Cubbie to the nearest veterinary clinic. Mick was in his sophomore year at the time, working as a secretary and observing the vets on site while he studied the same profession in school. While the kitten was being examined, Mick took it upon himself to comfort Cubbie’s worried owner and assure him that his precious pet would be absolutely fine.
It pretty much went on from there, with James asking Mick to hang out at the college café after Mick did such a wonderful job of keeping him calm while Cubbie was examined. Now two years later, Mick was in his fourth year or veterinary medicine, spending a lot of his time at that same clinic as a student vet, and gaining as much experience as possible before he graduated.
For some reason however, despite the fact that dealing with animals should make most people happy (unless they were being bitten constantly), Mick almost always came home in the most pissed off of moods, and lash out at his partner for the smallest of things and often for things that James didn’t do. James didn’t ever understand why Mick felt the need to take whatever aggression he felt at his job out on him but it was needless to say that it was driving a very large wedge between them.
With a sigh, James shut the psychology textbook he had been pretending to read and stood. The large face of the clock on the far wall read 8:58pm. The library closed at 9pm. Time to return home and face what he was sure to be a very angry Mick, angrier than when James left him.
After having packed all of his unused materials into his bag, James slung one strap over his shoulder and set off, never bothering to stop his music no matter the disapproving stare he got from the librarian. It was a pretty decent walk from the library to James and Mick’s apartment, which was off campus, across the busy university road and six lanes of traffic. Dangerous at night and long but a well worth walk if one wanted to clear their head or prepare themselves for what would meet them at home, as was James’ case.
Taking the steps quite slowly, James made his way to the second floor two bedroom apartment he shared with Mick. While the master bedroom used to be both his and Mick’s room, now he often slept in the spare room, not because Mick kicked him out but because he chose to leave rather than continue and end up in another physical fight like the last which resulted in a lamp thrown at James’ head ending with a cut above his eyebrow and a VERY grumpy James.
Heaving a great sigh, James quietly pushed the house key into the lock and turned it as slowly and silently as possible so as to not alert Mick and hopefully go unnoticed. After getting inside, James was relieved to find that all was dark and quiet which meant if he could just get to the bedroom and hide in there, he’d be home free and Mick would leave him alone.
A loud meow disrupted the silence of the house. Wincing, James’ eyes scanned the darkness and landed on a pair of golden eyes very much alike in color to his own shining in the darkness. “Cubbie,” he whispered, watching the form of his pet slink towards him and wrap itself around his legs, all while letting out soft meows for attention. “Shush, Cubbie,” he added, hurrying to the room, the cat following him and closing the door behind them.
Without turning on the light or going to the bathroom to wash his face, James threw himself into the full-sized bed on his stomach, pressing his face into the pillows. He soon felt the bed sink in just the slightest, Cubbie taking dainty steps towards his owner where he came to rest on James’ head. James let out a snort, the feline barely moving, not even as James brought his hand up and tried to coax him off of his head.
It stayed like this for a few moments until James started to roll, making Cubbie step off with an indignant meow. “Well who told you to sit on my head?” he said to it, now reaching to the night stand to grab a hold of the remote and turn on the TV. Once he was back in position however, Cubbie attempted to return to his original position, the two having a small fight for dominance before both settled with Cubbie lying on his neck and shoulders, allowing James to rest his head on Cubbie’s back.
“I’m starting to see why people say you’re spoiled,” James said softly, flipping through the channels lazily and getting himself a whip in the face from Cubbie’s tail. The cat was spoiled, and even Cubbie knew that he could get away with murder with James.
After just ten minutes of relaxation with James settling on watching a Real World rerun (James wasn’t into the reality TV too much but he definitely had a big guilty pleasure with the Real World), the door very quietly opened, Cubbie barely responding to the intruder while James’ heart pretty much skipped a beat at what was coming.
Mick opened the door, just enough for his thin frame to slip inside. Neither males broke eye contact after Mick was inside, wearing just his striped pajama pants, his hair sticking up in some parts. James would’ve smiled had they not been at almost war, seeing how innocent and cute Mick was, with how he picked at his nails, a clear indication that he had something to say and the way he’d sway from side to side, shifting weight from his left to his right foot.
Mick let out a sigh, dropping his hands to his sides, “Why were you sneaking in?” he asked softly so James muted the television.
“I wasn’t?” James answered back just as quietly, his lip curling when Cubbie’s tail once again came and whipped him in the face.
“Well why didn’t you come see me?”
Resisting the urge to tell his boyfriend that they were fighting and that he’d rather not see him, James shrugged, his eyes returning to the muted television, “I thought you were asleep.”
Mick didn’t reply for a moment or two, so James looked back to his boyfriend and nearly groaned at seeing Mick’s eyes welling, the blue glow from his TV just enough to illuminate the tears building. ‘Here we go’ he thought.
“Do you not want to see me?” Mick asked softly, the tears evident in his voice even after he swallowed to clear his throat. “Are you tired of me?”
‘Yes.’
“No, Mick,” James began, tapping Cubbie so he for once got off, obviously sensing the tension. Sitting up he continued, “I just thought you were asleep is all, didn’t want to wake you.”
Swallowing once more, Mick’s eyes averted to the floor, “I wouldn’t have gotten mad at you if you came to the room,” he answered. “You could’ve just come and told me you were home.”
“I know you heard the door open,” James said rather quickly before he could catch it. “And if not, you heard Cubbie since he wasn’t exactly being quiet,” he looked to his pet for support and getting promptly ignored when the cat turned it’s head away and pretended to sleep. “Besides, it’s not like we’re exactly on speaking terms after the fight earlier.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“So are you,” James replied just as quickly as he had last time.
Mick took a breath, looking quite hurt but by this point James was more interested in the argument happening on the TV than the one that was going on in front of him. “You know, it’s sad that I get more affection from your fucking cat than you,” he muttered, turning to leave. “Don’t bother coming to the room for the next couple of days.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” James said just as the door shut, rolling his eyes before looking back at Cubbie who despite being a cat, looked quite smug about it all. “Traitor.”
~~~~~
James awoke the next morning with a groan. He rolled out of bed lazily and audibly cursed his boyfriend, Mick having already left for work. A small smile was brought to his face, however, as he remembered it was Saturday. No classes, no baseball practice, just a day to enjoy however he see fit.
He gave his beloved cat a glare, remembering how he'd sided with Mick last night, face quickly turning to a look of affection as the cat rubbed against his leg in an apology . . . most likely sucking up for food.
James sighed as he picked up the fuzzball of a pet, scratching his chin lovingly.
“At least you don’t yell at me, Cub,” he lamented, setting the cat on the counter, getting out the cat’s $5 a can gourmet cat food, Cubbie hollering at him, most likely telling him to hurry up and feed him.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” James laughed, giving the cat it’s meal and removing his cell phone from the jeans he slept in the night before. He flipped it open, scrolling down his contacts list until he got to the letter M. He highlighted his wanted contact and pressed send, bringing the phone to his ear, listening to the ringback tone. The Final Countdown. How ridiculous?
“Hello?” came a groggy voice, thick with sleep.
“Wake the hell up, Matt. And change your ringback, too!” laughed James, a smile brought to his face for the first time in a while.
“Oh, hey James! Sorry, I passed out last night after I got home from a par- . . . Brandan, what the fuck, get out of my bed!”
James brought the phone away from his ear after the yell, still being able to hear a loud thud though, followed by two laughs and fabricated back and forth banter about someone’s ass hurting, accusing the other, accusations being quickly denied. James laughed at how Matt was with Brandan. Matt “I’m the straightest man in the world” Sanders living with Brandan “I like cock and don’t give a shit what you think, I’m gonna be open about it” Schieppati, who also happened to be James’ fellow ballplayer. Separate, they were funny but together, they were an unstoppable team of hilarity. Just what James needed right now.
James coughed, catching his friends attention again.
“Heh, sorry, I found Fagatron in my bed tryin’ to cuddle with me!” Matt laughed, a distanced ‘You loved it!’ being heard from the background, “Anyways, what’s up?”
“I got a day off from class and practice today, I was wondering if you guys wanted to hit the gym with me?” James asked, voice sounding almost pleading.
“Yeah, sure bro. You and Mick get into another fight or somethin’?” Matt asked, already well aware of how James and Mick’s home life was like. Matt often played the roll of Dr. Mattyphil, listening to his friend get everything off his chest.
“Yeah man, we did. I’ll tell you about it later, I’ve gotta get ready.”
“Alright man, see you there. Brandan, holy shit, I don’t wanna see your junk, put your fucking shorts on, we’re going to the gym!” was heard before the line disconnected, leaving James to laugh at how crazy his friends were. He wished he and Mick were like that, even if Brandan and Matt weren’t together. He craved that connection. He pocketed his phone again, walking to his room to change into a pair of black gym shorts, not even bothering with a shirt, not to be a show off-y asshole but knowing that he’d eventually take it off within five minutes of getting there. James hated arrogant show offs.
He made his way into the apartments small bathroom, grabbing the shared bottle of hairspray, noticing it was almost empty but not caring as he spiked his hair up, arranging all the pink strands in a perfect row.
He quickly found his keys on the table in the kitchen and slipped on his shoes.
“I’ll be back later, Cub. Going to hang out with Uncle Matt and Aunt Brandan,” he smiled, rubbing the cat’s ears, earning a purr. “See, I knew you didn’t hate me!”
The cat gave him a look that clearly told James he was only needed for food and scratches but Cubbie gave him the privilege of being his friend as well. James laughed at how well he could read his cat’s mind; it sometimes scared him how in sync he was with the furry creature. He laughed once again, exiting his house and making the short trek to his car.
The ride to the gym was short, giving him time to clear his head as he blasted Poison from his speakers. Matt and Brandan made fun of him for listening to them, James realizing it was especially bad when you had a gay man calling it ‘pussy music’. He didn’t care though. He pressed the skip button when the track changed to Every Rose Has It’s Thorn, the song being uncomfortably too close to his and Mick’s current situation.
James pulled into a parking space by Matt’s pick up truck. Matt, Matt, Matt. Always trying to prove how ‘manly’ he was in every way possible when they all knew he played for both teams. He shook his head as he chuckled, getting out of his car and walking into the fitness institution.
He was nearly pummeled by a short, muscled man, whose equally short hair was already dripping with sweat.
“Jaaaaaaaames! I missed you!” Brandan screeched, pulling James into a headlock.
“It’s only been two days!” James laughed, finding it easier to relax now that he was nowhere near any of his problems.
“Jesus, let him go, Brandanosaur, you’re gonna suffocate the poor guy!” Matt’s deep voice came from the distance, the taller yet equally muscular man as Brandan walked over, towel slung over his bare neck and shoulders.
“You guys look like you just ran a marathon and I know you couldn’t have been here for too long, what’s up?” James asked, confused at the amount of perspiration dripping from his friends.
“The place finally got an octagon, just like the ones in UFC!” Brandan yelled, so excited he decided to jump on Matt’s back.
“Yeah, I just got finished kicking Brandan’s ass in it,” Matt smirked, getting a weak punch to the shoulder from the insulted man on his back, “you should try it, there’s another guy here about your size.”
“Yeah sure, sounds like a lot of fun,” James nodded, cracking his knuckles, loving the idea of going pound for pound with someone else, being able to just let go of everything that had plagued his mind for at least five minutes. His aggression had been building up for weeks and this was just what he needed.
“We should tell you though, the guy looks pretty deadly, he’s taken on a few guys already and won every match. Some of them were bigger than Mattypants here!” Brandan gave fair warning.
“Eh, I think I might be able to take him,” James replied.
“Oh, you say that now . . . just wait,” Matt said, travelling over to the newly installed fighting ring.
Two men were already inside, one of a slightly smaller build than Matt, and another who looked to be almost the exact same size as James, his black hair dripping sweat into his eyes but not hindering his movements, ducking a left hook from his opponent and returning with a right uppercut, knocking the man to the ground and quickly maneuvering him into an armbar. Within seconds the bigger man tapped out, groaning in pain as his elbow was almost popped the opposite way.
James was somewhat impressed with how natural the man’s movements were, almost as if he had been born to fight.
“Oh yeah, fourth win in a row! C’mon, isn’t there anybody here who can at least be a small challenge?! Anyone here think they can beat me?!” the winner roared with pride, looking around for his next opponent.
“Pssst, you should fight him James!” Matt whispered, eyes never leaving the man in the ring, who now wiped the drenched hair from his eyes, sparkling electric blues scanning the men outside of the cage.
James scoffed, having lost all respect for the man at his display of bravado and arrogance. James hated show offs. Maybe he was about to gain one more problem.
“Yeah, over here! I KNOW I can beat you!” James piped up, uncharacteristically calling the other out, getting surprised looks from both his friends.“Looks like we got a brave one here!” the man spoke to no one in particular, “Well step right into the lions den, pretty boy, I’ll tear your ass apart!”
Authors:karlacocaine trini_vengeance
Pairings:James Hart/Mick Morris (many more to come)
Rating:NC-17
Disclaimer: Fake, didn't happen, made up stuff. The end.
Summary: I need another hit of you.
A/N: Hai thurr! So Karla and I decided to collaborate on a story and this is the first chapter! Don't worry, Rather Be Caught Dead updates will be here soon but I gotta say, it's refreshing writing something that's not so emotionally charged! =] Points to anyone who can distinguish Karla's writing from mine lol XD
James Hart sat with his head bowed, unfocused eyes on the text in front of him. Hidden behind the thin walls of the small cubicle he was situated in at his university’s library, the college junior was able to relax with the sounds of Mötley Crüe’s Dr. Feelgood. It was in this little cubicle that James was able to leave all of the crap behind if even for an hour and gather his thoughts. It was here that James often found himself after yet another heated argument with his boyfriend and roommate, Mick.
James had met Mick in his freshman year when he frantically rushed his wheezing four month old kitten, Cubbie to the nearest veterinary clinic. Mick was in his sophomore year at the time, working as a secretary and observing the vets on site while he studied the same profession in school. While the kitten was being examined, Mick took it upon himself to comfort Cubbie’s worried owner and assure him that his precious pet would be absolutely fine.
It pretty much went on from there, with James asking Mick to hang out at the college café after Mick did such a wonderful job of keeping him calm while Cubbie was examined. Now two years later, Mick was in his fourth year or veterinary medicine, spending a lot of his time at that same clinic as a student vet, and gaining as much experience as possible before he graduated.
For some reason however, despite the fact that dealing with animals should make most people happy (unless they were being bitten constantly), Mick almost always came home in the most pissed off of moods, and lash out at his partner for the smallest of things and often for things that James didn’t do. James didn’t ever understand why Mick felt the need to take whatever aggression he felt at his job out on him but it was needless to say that it was driving a very large wedge between them.
With a sigh, James shut the psychology textbook he had been pretending to read and stood. The large face of the clock on the far wall read 8:58pm. The library closed at 9pm. Time to return home and face what he was sure to be a very angry Mick, angrier than when James left him.
After having packed all of his unused materials into his bag, James slung one strap over his shoulder and set off, never bothering to stop his music no matter the disapproving stare he got from the librarian. It was a pretty decent walk from the library to James and Mick’s apartment, which was off campus, across the busy university road and six lanes of traffic. Dangerous at night and long but a well worth walk if one wanted to clear their head or prepare themselves for what would meet them at home, as was James’ case.
Taking the steps quite slowly, James made his way to the second floor two bedroom apartment he shared with Mick. While the master bedroom used to be both his and Mick’s room, now he often slept in the spare room, not because Mick kicked him out but because he chose to leave rather than continue and end up in another physical fight like the last which resulted in a lamp thrown at James’ head ending with a cut above his eyebrow and a VERY grumpy James.
Heaving a great sigh, James quietly pushed the house key into the lock and turned it as slowly and silently as possible so as to not alert Mick and hopefully go unnoticed. After getting inside, James was relieved to find that all was dark and quiet which meant if he could just get to the bedroom and hide in there, he’d be home free and Mick would leave him alone.
A loud meow disrupted the silence of the house. Wincing, James’ eyes scanned the darkness and landed on a pair of golden eyes very much alike in color to his own shining in the darkness. “Cubbie,” he whispered, watching the form of his pet slink towards him and wrap itself around his legs, all while letting out soft meows for attention. “Shush, Cubbie,” he added, hurrying to the room, the cat following him and closing the door behind them.
Without turning on the light or going to the bathroom to wash his face, James threw himself into the full-sized bed on his stomach, pressing his face into the pillows. He soon felt the bed sink in just the slightest, Cubbie taking dainty steps towards his owner where he came to rest on James’ head. James let out a snort, the feline barely moving, not even as James brought his hand up and tried to coax him off of his head.
It stayed like this for a few moments until James started to roll, making Cubbie step off with an indignant meow. “Well who told you to sit on my head?” he said to it, now reaching to the night stand to grab a hold of the remote and turn on the TV. Once he was back in position however, Cubbie attempted to return to his original position, the two having a small fight for dominance before both settled with Cubbie lying on his neck and shoulders, allowing James to rest his head on Cubbie’s back.
“I’m starting to see why people say you’re spoiled,” James said softly, flipping through the channels lazily and getting himself a whip in the face from Cubbie’s tail. The cat was spoiled, and even Cubbie knew that he could get away with murder with James.
After just ten minutes of relaxation with James settling on watching a Real World rerun (James wasn’t into the reality TV too much but he definitely had a big guilty pleasure with the Real World), the door very quietly opened, Cubbie barely responding to the intruder while James’ heart pretty much skipped a beat at what was coming.
Mick opened the door, just enough for his thin frame to slip inside. Neither males broke eye contact after Mick was inside, wearing just his striped pajama pants, his hair sticking up in some parts. James would’ve smiled had they not been at almost war, seeing how innocent and cute Mick was, with how he picked at his nails, a clear indication that he had something to say and the way he’d sway from side to side, shifting weight from his left to his right foot.
Mick let out a sigh, dropping his hands to his sides, “Why were you sneaking in?” he asked softly so James muted the television.
“I wasn’t?” James answered back just as quietly, his lip curling when Cubbie’s tail once again came and whipped him in the face.
“Well why didn’t you come see me?”
Resisting the urge to tell his boyfriend that they were fighting and that he’d rather not see him, James shrugged, his eyes returning to the muted television, “I thought you were asleep.”
Mick didn’t reply for a moment or two, so James looked back to his boyfriend and nearly groaned at seeing Mick’s eyes welling, the blue glow from his TV just enough to illuminate the tears building. ‘Here we go’ he thought.
“Do you not want to see me?” Mick asked softly, the tears evident in his voice even after he swallowed to clear his throat. “Are you tired of me?”
‘Yes.’
“No, Mick,” James began, tapping Cubbie so he for once got off, obviously sensing the tension. Sitting up he continued, “I just thought you were asleep is all, didn’t want to wake you.”
Swallowing once more, Mick’s eyes averted to the floor, “I wouldn’t have gotten mad at you if you came to the room,” he answered. “You could’ve just come and told me you were home.”
“I know you heard the door open,” James said rather quickly before he could catch it. “And if not, you heard Cubbie since he wasn’t exactly being quiet,” he looked to his pet for support and getting promptly ignored when the cat turned it’s head away and pretended to sleep. “Besides, it’s not like we’re exactly on speaking terms after the fight earlier.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“So are you,” James replied just as quickly as he had last time.
Mick took a breath, looking quite hurt but by this point James was more interested in the argument happening on the TV than the one that was going on in front of him. “You know, it’s sad that I get more affection from your fucking cat than you,” he muttered, turning to leave. “Don’t bother coming to the room for the next couple of days.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” James said just as the door shut, rolling his eyes before looking back at Cubbie who despite being a cat, looked quite smug about it all. “Traitor.”
~~~~~
James awoke the next morning with a groan. He rolled out of bed lazily and audibly cursed his boyfriend, Mick having already left for work. A small smile was brought to his face, however, as he remembered it was Saturday. No classes, no baseball practice, just a day to enjoy however he see fit.
He gave his beloved cat a glare, remembering how he'd sided with Mick last night, face quickly turning to a look of affection as the cat rubbed against his leg in an apology . . . most likely sucking up for food.
James sighed as he picked up the fuzzball of a pet, scratching his chin lovingly.
“At least you don’t yell at me, Cub,” he lamented, setting the cat on the counter, getting out the cat’s $5 a can gourmet cat food, Cubbie hollering at him, most likely telling him to hurry up and feed him.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” James laughed, giving the cat it’s meal and removing his cell phone from the jeans he slept in the night before. He flipped it open, scrolling down his contacts list until he got to the letter M. He highlighted his wanted contact and pressed send, bringing the phone to his ear, listening to the ringback tone. The Final Countdown. How ridiculous?
“Hello?” came a groggy voice, thick with sleep.
“Wake the hell up, Matt. And change your ringback, too!” laughed James, a smile brought to his face for the first time in a while.
“Oh, hey James! Sorry, I passed out last night after I got home from a par- . . . Brandan, what the fuck, get out of my bed!”
James brought the phone away from his ear after the yell, still being able to hear a loud thud though, followed by two laughs and fabricated back and forth banter about someone’s ass hurting, accusing the other, accusations being quickly denied. James laughed at how Matt was with Brandan. Matt “I’m the straightest man in the world” Sanders living with Brandan “I like cock and don’t give a shit what you think, I’m gonna be open about it” Schieppati, who also happened to be James’ fellow ballplayer. Separate, they were funny but together, they were an unstoppable team of hilarity. Just what James needed right now.
James coughed, catching his friends attention again.
“Heh, sorry, I found Fagatron in my bed tryin’ to cuddle with me!” Matt laughed, a distanced ‘You loved it!’ being heard from the background, “Anyways, what’s up?”
“I got a day off from class and practice today, I was wondering if you guys wanted to hit the gym with me?” James asked, voice sounding almost pleading.
“Yeah, sure bro. You and Mick get into another fight or somethin’?” Matt asked, already well aware of how James and Mick’s home life was like. Matt often played the roll of Dr. Mattyphil, listening to his friend get everything off his chest.
“Yeah man, we did. I’ll tell you about it later, I’ve gotta get ready.”
“Alright man, see you there. Brandan, holy shit, I don’t wanna see your junk, put your fucking shorts on, we’re going to the gym!” was heard before the line disconnected, leaving James to laugh at how crazy his friends were. He wished he and Mick were like that, even if Brandan and Matt weren’t together. He craved that connection. He pocketed his phone again, walking to his room to change into a pair of black gym shorts, not even bothering with a shirt, not to be a show off-y asshole but knowing that he’d eventually take it off within five minutes of getting there. James hated arrogant show offs.
He made his way into the apartments small bathroom, grabbing the shared bottle of hairspray, noticing it was almost empty but not caring as he spiked his hair up, arranging all the pink strands in a perfect row.
He quickly found his keys on the table in the kitchen and slipped on his shoes.
“I’ll be back later, Cub. Going to hang out with Uncle Matt and Aunt Brandan,” he smiled, rubbing the cat’s ears, earning a purr. “See, I knew you didn’t hate me!”
The cat gave him a look that clearly told James he was only needed for food and scratches but Cubbie gave him the privilege of being his friend as well. James laughed at how well he could read his cat’s mind; it sometimes scared him how in sync he was with the furry creature. He laughed once again, exiting his house and making the short trek to his car.
The ride to the gym was short, giving him time to clear his head as he blasted Poison from his speakers. Matt and Brandan made fun of him for listening to them, James realizing it was especially bad when you had a gay man calling it ‘pussy music’. He didn’t care though. He pressed the skip button when the track changed to Every Rose Has It’s Thorn, the song being uncomfortably too close to his and Mick’s current situation.
James pulled into a parking space by Matt’s pick up truck. Matt, Matt, Matt. Always trying to prove how ‘manly’ he was in every way possible when they all knew he played for both teams. He shook his head as he chuckled, getting out of his car and walking into the fitness institution.
He was nearly pummeled by a short, muscled man, whose equally short hair was already dripping with sweat.
“Jaaaaaaaames! I missed you!” Brandan screeched, pulling James into a headlock.
“It’s only been two days!” James laughed, finding it easier to relax now that he was nowhere near any of his problems.
“Jesus, let him go, Brandanosaur, you’re gonna suffocate the poor guy!” Matt’s deep voice came from the distance, the taller yet equally muscular man as Brandan walked over, towel slung over his bare neck and shoulders.
“You guys look like you just ran a marathon and I know you couldn’t have been here for too long, what’s up?” James asked, confused at the amount of perspiration dripping from his friends.
“The place finally got an octagon, just like the ones in UFC!” Brandan yelled, so excited he decided to jump on Matt’s back.
“Yeah, I just got finished kicking Brandan’s ass in it,” Matt smirked, getting a weak punch to the shoulder from the insulted man on his back, “you should try it, there’s another guy here about your size.”
“Yeah sure, sounds like a lot of fun,” James nodded, cracking his knuckles, loving the idea of going pound for pound with someone else, being able to just let go of everything that had plagued his mind for at least five minutes. His aggression had been building up for weeks and this was just what he needed.
“We should tell you though, the guy looks pretty deadly, he’s taken on a few guys already and won every match. Some of them were bigger than Mattypants here!” Brandan gave fair warning.
“Eh, I think I might be able to take him,” James replied.
“Oh, you say that now . . . just wait,” Matt said, travelling over to the newly installed fighting ring.
Two men were already inside, one of a slightly smaller build than Matt, and another who looked to be almost the exact same size as James, his black hair dripping sweat into his eyes but not hindering his movements, ducking a left hook from his opponent and returning with a right uppercut, knocking the man to the ground and quickly maneuvering him into an armbar. Within seconds the bigger man tapped out, groaning in pain as his elbow was almost popped the opposite way.
James was somewhat impressed with how natural the man’s movements were, almost as if he had been born to fight.
“Oh yeah, fourth win in a row! C’mon, isn’t there anybody here who can at least be a small challenge?! Anyone here think they can beat me?!” the winner roared with pride, looking around for his next opponent.
“Pssst, you should fight him James!” Matt whispered, eyes never leaving the man in the ring, who now wiped the drenched hair from his eyes, sparkling electric blues scanning the men outside of the cage.
James scoffed, having lost all respect for the man at his display of bravado and arrogance. James hated show offs. Maybe he was about to gain one more problem.
“Yeah, over here! I KNOW I can beat you!” James piped up, uncharacteristically calling the other out, getting surprised looks from both his friends.“Looks like we got a brave one here!” the man spoke to no one in particular, “Well step right into the lions den, pretty boy, I’ll tear your ass apart!”