InsaneJournal

Log: Aleksander Rasputin & Luke Summers
WHO Aleksander Rasputin & Luke Summers
WHAT Lucas finds out what one of Alek's hobbies is.
WHEN Wednesday night
WHERE Underground fighting...place.
RATING PG-13
STATUS Complete!

Luke had heard about these fights from a friend. It was the kind of thing you heard about, but didn't really believe until you heard about it yourself. And, as most people knew, Luke was a very curious guy and when he needed to know something, well, he was going to find the answers he needed. Plus, who didn't love a knock down drag out from time to time? So, wearing a stylish hoody and a pair of manly, but slightly over-sized sunglasses, Luke made his way through the crowd. Luke promised his mother to be good, so he knew it wouldn't be the best of ideas to be seen. Eventually, he managed to get through the crowd for a better view of the fight going on that caused the crowd to whoop and holler.

People always assumed that there was poetry going through a fighter's head. It was a dance, of sorts, but as the bare knuckle fist, wrapped only in gauze to soak up the blood made contact with his chin, poetry was the furthest thing from Aleksander's mind. He took the hit without phasing, his head snapping back to where it had been and his fists laid into the man's stomach. They'd already gone two rounds, working on the third. After pummeling and getting the wind out of the opponent, Alek dropped his body down to the floor, his right leg lashing out and sweeping the other off his feet. The sound as his back hit the pin's floor was like the crack of a whip. Alek was back on his feet, wiping the flood from his vision, hopping from side to side, body tense. He'd lost the shirt early on. Sleeveless or no, he didn't need the hindrance of the material.

Luke wasn't sure what the hell to do. Lies. First, he whipped out his phone and snapped some discrete shots. Second, he stared at Aleks and wasn't even sure what the hell to do. He couldn't exactly call out his friend's name and distract him (or call attention to himself), and also he was slightly annoyed. Why hadn't Aleks told him about this? They'd shared a great many things. He put it on the top of his list of things to talk about. First? He'd enjoy the fight and try not to be too concerned about Aleks getting his ass handed to him.

Alek's opponent hopped up off the floor, suddenly vertical, standing in the same spot he'd just been occupying on his back. Shouts of 'Powers! POWERS!" Echoed through the crowd around them. Alek didn't think it was the guy using some lame ability. They had similar builds. Aleksander could have done that move too, if he had been the one laid out flat. The two circled one another like feral beasts, blood from their open scratches and noses dotted the arena floor like a sick inkblot test. The man got impatient, rushing at Alek, trying to barrel into him. Alek pivoted, his calf sticking out as the man continued with his momentum. One of the Russian's fists landed in the middle of the man's back, pushing him forward and pulling out a gasped moan from the man's throat. He flipped over the ropes, landing on his back. The bell rung and the ref ran over. He raised Alek's arm over his head, declaring him the victor. Aleksander was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to lift it on his own.

Once the fight was over, which was... Okay, so Luke would admit it, really weird to watch. He couldn't quite enjoy it, but he was glad his friend kicked some ass. He gave Alek a few moments to recup before finally making his way toward him, watched him for a minute before grinning, crossing his arms, and quirking a brow. "You look like serious shit, you know that?" He tilted his head. "What the hell are your parents going to say?"

There was a ringing in Alek's ears, something that wouldn't go away until a handful of Motrin and a gallon of water. Something...no, someone sounded familiar, though. Familiar and out of place. His head turned slowly as he sank down into the mat and waded himself out. Intanibility could be a beautiful thing. It kept him from tripping over the ropes himself. He caught sight of the short woman with her arms crossed. But the voice was feminine. Maybe a little, but Alek knew that voice. It must have been the glasses and his own blurred vision. Everything snapped into place, nostrils flaring indignantly. People were beginning to mill about, leaving him alone to look after his own wounds and get a drink before the next two combatants entered the ring. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, words hot, a little ragged. Stalking over, Alek grabbed Luke by the back of his arm and pulled him over to a quiet corner. It was Alek's usual table, a med kit already waiting there for him. "What're you doing here?" He repeated, sitting down heavily and pulling Luke down into the chair beside him.

"Dude," Luke replied pulling his arm away and punching Alek in the shoulder hard. "Bloody sweaty gross hands." He motioned toward his hoody. "Expensive stylish hoody." He wore an unsettled and disturbed expression. "What the hell." He punched Alek's shoulder hard.

Hard for Luke wasn't anything that Alek couldn't deal with. He rolled his eyes and took the hits. Maybe it was because the bruices hadn't had a chance to start, maybe most of Alek's upper body was just numb. "And yeah, I'm doing just great. Thanks for asking, buddy." Kyle growled deep in his throat, picking up a piece of gauze and spitting the bloody snot roll into it. He set it on the table and started rummaging through kit. "Answer my question and I'll answer yours," Alek said, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. He winced, then patted at it. His lip was split slightly on one side. "Shit," he muttered, his free hand already setting out the bottles of antiseptic, the rejuvenators, the mossy-like bandages that knitted skin together at six times the rate of Neosporin back in the old days.

Luke rolled his eyes. He sighed and took the stuff from Alek. "Hold still, whiny bitch," he replied and began to clean the wounds. Lucky for him, his father had taught him enough training to deal with these kinds of wounds. "There's nothing to tell. I didn't even know you'd be here."

"Thanks," he grumbled softly, an automatic wince making him pull away slightly but he got over it and moved his head in closer again. "I was going to use your lady frames as a mirror. Guess I don't have to now. "Well, my folks aren't going t'say anything about this. Because you never saw me here. Like...the other stuff." His voice dropped an octave - for Luke's ears only. They had a lot of secrets between them, and that was as far as they went. "Don't make me...shit, easy on the pressure." Alek sucked in a breath. "Don't make me make you pinky swear."

"I'm pretty sure your mom already knows," he replied. "Moms kind of know stuff." The other stuff, obviously. Not the fighting stuff. Hell, he was pretty sure the whole family knew about Christian for a long ass time before he decided to come out. "Pinky swearing? What are we in second grade?" Once he was done with the antiseptic, he began to put on the ointment and gauze.

"Naah, I don't think she does. She's not a telepath like yours. And she doesn't go prying as far as I know." Alek was very careful where he left things like his computer and iPod because of that. Since he'd moved out, though, he'd loosened up a little, but not much. "It used to work," he said, his shoulders slumping and his bottom lip plumping out some as it swelled. "Just...don't tell anyone, OK? This is my thing. I'll automatically phase before I die or anything, so you don't have to worry about me." It'd been a while since he'd have to press Luke to keep a secret. He was just adding it to the list.

"Who the hell said I was worried about you?" Luke scoffed. "You're such an egotistical dick, you know that?" He smirked, of course, but didn't make a promise. He thought that after years of keeping secrets it would be sort of implied that he would. Assuming Alek didn't do anything stupid, of course.

"If you weren't worried, you wouldn't be trying to do something for me I've done more than half a dozen times by myself before," he said softly, truthfully. While Luke worked with the gauze, Alek put his elbow on the table to give him access to a cut along his bicep. He opened up a small butterfly bandage, tapping his forehead gently, trying to find where a small cut started so he could apply it. "You...want to get in on the action?" Alek asked, managing to get the bandaid on just in time to grab a towel someone was handing him. Inside was his cut, which he slipped noticeably (to him) under the table and into his pocket.

"Okay," Luke began, offended, "it's called being nice to your friends." He handled the wounds a little roughly. "So, quit bitching already. What kind of Russian are you?" He smiled, though. "And risk fucking up this beautiful money making face? Yeah, fuck you for the thought."

"Sure are full of fucks tonight," Alek murmured, dabbing a little more ointment onto his lip. He didn't need a scar that would be so obvious. "There's power fighting too. Mostly just defensive stuff, but I don't trust either of us that way. You'd end up making someone super rich but dead with your diamond shards, and I could accidentally pull out someone's heart. That's why I stay with the mundane fights. Plenty of excitement for me." He paused a moment and glanced at Luke as he worked. "Thanks," he said.

"Excitement isn't exactly how I would put this," he replied with a chuckle. "More like a death wish," he replied, "or masochism." He shrugged off the thanks. "I'm assuming this is just for money?

"Money's just the bonus," Alek said with a wry grin on his busted lips. "Why should Mom and Dad have all the fun, huh? And since we might have to start picking up the slack, what better way to get to where they were than by practicing with real life people? Some are just here for the money. Some are just users, here to try and get a quick fix. They don't last long, though. Only way to win is to be clean, in your head." Alek blotted the towel against his face, then over his chest and across his shoulders. "Mom was trained by James. She trained me. You just think I'd sit on my butt and get pudgy? Like they'd let me." Alek unrolled the towel, giving it a twist and flicking it out toward Luke. "You hungry?"

"Probably a smart idea," he replied and motioned for Alek to hurry up so they could grab food. "What do you feel like eating?"

Getting the impatient gesture that he knew so well from Luke, Alek pulled on his shirt quickly, jaw setting as his muscles fought against the movement. He took a breath and then quickly slipped into a pullover. He didn't put the hood on, though. There was pride in showing off the hits he'd taken util they got around places that people they knew could be. "Anything big. A burger and fries? A huge milkshake. I think it'd be dive bar for us or Toby would have a post up in an hour saying you beat me up. We both know that couldn't be true."

"You'd be surprised," Luke replied with an amused grin. "Burgers work, but don't act like it's all for the tabloids. You just want to avoid the possibility of your parents finding out."

Alek shrugged, standing up and trying out a cautious stretch. He didn't get very far. But that was okay with him. Nothing a hot bath and sleep couldn't fix - followed by a bottle of aspirin. "Yeah, I really don't need Mom seeing me scarfing down half a cow. She'd get pissed. "Let's go man. Starting to stink in here." Despite the cut on his left nostril, Alek's nose still wrinkled. "But don't go making a habit of coming down here too often. They're leavin' you alone because of me." Alek grinned and headed toward the door. It was nice to have someone he knew there, as startling as it had started out. "You're buyin', right?"

"You're the one who just won some bank," he replied. "Food's on you, kid." He smirked and punched him the shoulder playfully. "The only stink here, might I add," although everything in this sink hole smelled, "is you."