Long Road Home (the_wolverine) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-29 15:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, logan howlett (wolverine), neena thurman (domino), varric tethras |
"Did you have 'em brassed?"
Who: Logan and Domino, also Varric
What: Picking up chicks after a streetfight
Where: random street, Mad Dogs, Dom's apartment
When: Last night
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete.
Logan found himself cruising down the street. It was a chilly night, and he had his jacket zipped up, but the cold helped him think. And focus.
Dom had gotten bored with her apartment. She'd already unpacked everything and set it up just so, locked up all of her new gun safes, cleaned all of her sidearms two times for good measure, and cased her two neighbors - one of which she was almost certain was running a meth lab.
Now she was out walking the streets, trying to get a feel for the rest of her neighborhood. She wondered if anyone would be stupid enough to attack her. That might be fun.
It was a good place, see. To make meth, see. Like old gin and moonshine, but with meth. See. The tenant had a thing for old gang movies, see.
There was usually someone stupid enough to attack her. A group of them were currently following her, trying to remain silent.
Logan had pulled up to a curb and was drinking some water. He eyed the miscreants as they passed him.
Dom had that sort of nagging feeling she always got at the back of her head when there was someone following her. She headed down the street at a more casual pace, whistling a bit with her hands in her pockets. Just for the extra laughs.
Logan slid off the bike, flexing his fingers and popping his knuckles. He fell into line behind the hoodlums. It was quite obvious they were following that woman, and well, he hadn't had his nightly beer yet and so he was on the cranky side. CRACK! The sound rang through the air as she smacked two of their heads together. The man dodged back as one of the men - the kid was barely eighteen, fuck - whirled around, slicing a knife through the air where his stomach had been.
Logan grinned.
Dom sighed as the crack ripped through the air, and sighed. There were sounds of a scuffle behind her now, and ... well that was going to ruin her night. She turned around to watch the events, torn between lighting up a cigarette and cheering him on or joining in.
One of the men was trying to flank Logan. The older man used the alley to his advantage, slamming that man into the way, then spinning around, his foot connecting with the solar plexus of a third. That left the knife weilder, and Logan wished he'd had one of his katana - it would have made for a good 'thats not a knife' moments.
He felt, for some reason, that he could pull off a great one.
Cigarette in mouth, Dom took a moment to puff on it, then pulled her weapon. She crept up to the guy and nestled the cold point of her gun against his neck. "Didn't your mom ever teach you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?"
"I had it, darlin'." Logan said, rubbing one of his knuckles and sighing, "But appreciate it."
The man dropped the knife and lifted his hands over his head.
"_I_ had it the whole time, Darling. YOU took away my fun." Dom snorted, then poked the man with her gun, "I'm off duty, so I'm not going to arrest your ass. Go away and rethink your life choices. And get a better knife, that one isn't going to cut through anything."
Logan fingered his jacket, "Not even a scratch. Learn to cut someone, kid." He laughed, watching as the gang took off at a run.
Dom watched them run, and smirked a bit, then holstered her weapon.
"Nice piece, darlin'." The man pulled out a cigar, chomping off the end and lighting it. Good fight, deserved a good smoke. She was smoking, so it wasn't a problem, "Force issue?"
"Hells no." Dom snorted, "I hate the length on Force Issue weapons, too long. They don't fit my custom holsters."
Logan's grin grew wider, "Not a big fan of guns. Like fightin' up close."
She snorted in response, "I'm good at all kinds of fighting, even the up close and personal kind."
"Yeah?" He took a long drag of the stogie, eyes wandering and exploring the woman's body. It wasn't so much a leer as an evaluation.
"Yeah." She eyed him up and down, and smirked.
"Not bad." He held out his hand, "Logan."
She shook it, firmly, "Dom."
He raised an eyebrow at that. There was something he couldn't place. The shadows from the streetlamp set odd shadows in her eyes. He liked it.
Plus, she was pretty sure she'd heard of him before. "You were on that Valarnet thing."
"Yeah, so were you. Small world." If she started singing that song he was going to become a cop killer.
There would be no singing! She snorted at the reference, though, and shook her head, "I guess."
"Want to get a drink?"
He needed a beer. He figured she needed a beer. And he wanted to see her in real lighting.
She put out her cigarette and squinted at him, "You buying?"
"Ain't got no problem buyin'." He nodded his head at her, "We can take my bike."
"Alright. Lead the way, hot stuff."
Logan jogged across the street, straddling his harley and revving the engine up. He drove it alongside Domino, "Hop on."
Dom eyed it for a moment, wondering who else might have sat down in that spot before her. Then she shrugged, and hopped on.
Noone in awhile, darlin'. No one in awhile.
Logan swung the bike around and sped down the street at a leisurely pace. Dom's body felt nice against his back. The neighborhood improved slightly and he pulled up in front of a bar with a peeling painting of a dog on the front. He cut the engine, "Don't look like much, but best booze I've had this side of the rockies."
"As long as the seat I end up sitting on isn't sticky, I don't really care," Dom swung off the bike and took a look up at the sign, noting the Dog, "I think I remember some one of you mentioning this place."
"Yeah, it comes up a lot." Logan pocketedd the keys, heading in first and holding the door for Dom. Beer. There needed to be beer.
This man had a hot, hot ass and Dom wanted to get her hands all over him. Not just his ass, of course, but the entire rest of him too. She hadn't really been holding onto him the whole way for fear of falling off the bike.
She wasn't even subtle about checking him out before he opened the door for her, then she headed inside the place and took a look around. This bar, it could seriously use some sprucing up. But the beer smelled great and the seats were clean.
Logan's grin was feral, and he openely checked Domino out too. A tit for tat. He closed the door and walked after her, nodding at the man at the bar and holding up two fingers.
Varric looked up, nodding his head, and quickly handed out two beers, "Hey there, Patch."
"Varric." Logan nodded his head back at the man and plopped into a stool
Dom's eyes quickly surveyed the bar around her, the patrons, and the man slinging the beers while sipping her on her own. She was extremely delighted to discover that the beer was heavenly, which was a good enough reason to keep coming here in her book.
"Varric, you're the writer. I've been warned about you," She smirked.
Varric gave her a broad grin, studying her face for a moment, "I see you approve, Spot."
Logan shook his head, "And you still like giving out nicknames."
"It's a practice that he needs to retire, I think." Dom snerked, and poked at the mole by her left eye, "Spot? Really? I'm not a dog, Varric."
Varric tapped his cheek, one that mirrored Dom's, "I find it easier to remember people this way. Spot."
"Fine. Dottie." She smirked, and saluted him with her beer.
"Oooh, good one." Varric winked at her.
Logan watched the exchange with some amusement. He was savoring his beer; it was that good. His blood was still pumping from the fight, there was an interesting woman sitting next to him, and he had beer. Life? Was good.
"So I hear there's some kind of little people gang that likes to tear this place up every so often," Dom grinned, and slid her empty mug over to Varric, "Think we'll get any action tonight?"
"Playboy and Tinker aren't here," Varric said, sliding over a couple more beers. "So I doubt it."
"Playboy and Tinker?" Dom shook her head, "Kind of funny how you can keep track of pet names but not real ones."
"Don't look at me, I already had the nickname before I met him," Logan said. He turned to Dom, "Calls his waitress Irish."
"If I was that waitress I'd be throwing things at him."
"She does!" Varric grinned, "But usually she throws things at Tinker."
"See why I love this bar? Half the time he's telling some smutty story or another, too."
"Just missed the story of Captain Sal conquering her English pusuer, with her mast hoisted to full sail and ramming speed."
Dom nearly snorted beer out her nose.
Logan laughed, and slapped Dom on the back.
Beer had been splashed onto her shirt in the process, staining the white perfection it had previously been. Dom looked down at it and conquered an inner flail, while searching around frantically for a napkin.
Logan quirked an eyebrow, and pushed a napkin over to her, "It'll come out, darlin'."
"Of course it will, it's just beer," she said, casually, while dabbing at her shirt, "I just hate it when my shirts get wet."
"Don't come 'round on Saturdays," Logan joked, ignoring the look Varric gave him. Mad Dogs and Englishment does not do wet t-shirt contests.
But maybe it should.
"Coming around on a Saturday wouldn't be that bad," Dom stated boldly, having recovered from her flailing fit, "I'd just go commando that night."
Varric shot Logan a look. That look said 'she's a keeper'. Logan had to agree, "Darlin', you got guts."
"You don't survive long in my line of work without guts and a spare set of balls in your purse, you know?"
Logan leaned on the bar, "Did you have 'em brassed?"
"Anything's possible," she laughed, "Maybe I'll show you sometime, Patch."
"Maybe you should," Logan replied, picking up a napkin and dabbing it at her shirt. What, she'd missed a spot!
Dom purred, "Maybe I left my purse back at my place."
Straight and to the point, he liked that, "Not sure I'm interested in brass balls, darlin'."
Dom knocked back the rest of her beer and set her mug on the bar. Then she decided to be even more to the point, and kiss him to shut him up.
This ran the risk of there being property damage. Logan's fingers dug into her side and hip, his lips bruising hers. Varric watches this, grinning in amusement.
This woman was definitely the type of woman to see what she wanted and then just go get it, at least where men were concerned, and Logan was no exception. She gave him a damn good kiss that held a promise for some wild fun, then let go and hopped off her bar stool.
She winked at Varric, "Gotta go, Dotty. See you later."
Logan slapped a twenty down, following the woman out like a man with a mission. He wondered if she really did have balls in her purse.
Dom didn't even have a purse. Which Logan was soon going to find out.
He mounted the bike, waiting for her to get in, then shifted to glance at her, "Ain't goin' to give me a ticket if I speed, are ya?"
"I don't have a Radar in my pockets, do I?" Dom slung herself onto the bike and put her arms around him, then squeezed.
"No way you could fit one in those pants," He replied, gunning down the street.
"Oh I don't know, there's space in here somewhere, but I doubt I'd be able to hide it if it was. And I'd probably get all kinds of transvestite jokes in the process."
Logan snerked, "Which way, darlin'."
Continuing her internal joke that was probably only funny to her, she leaned forward a bit and nipped at his shoulder, "Is that a radar in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"
The man grunted, "I always carry radiation emittin' equipment in my pocket."
She giggled, "Remember where you fought those kids? 2 blocks south."
"Yeah?" He headed there, then headed two blocks south, taking a longer route.
Dom took that time to really, really enjoy the idle on his bike.
"This the place?" He pulled the bike to a stop, twisting around and kissing her almost violently.
"There's no place like home," she quipped as she slung off the bike again.
"Keep the ruby slippers on." Logan followed her, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her against her door, biting her neck from behind.
He gave her enough time to get the door open before he had her in his arms. Somehow, Logan found her bed and dropped her on it.
Clothing was casually ripped off as she landed, without regard for buttons or zippers, and without any care for whether there garments could be worn, later.
Logan took a moment to admire her, and then all else was lost to animal passion.