deathpixie | FIC: First Blood (X-Project-verse) 1/1

In response to this request by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]. Yvette, five years on.

She draws first blood.

Well, it would technically be first blood, if her teacher had the decency to bleed. Instead the flesh closes over the wound she's made on his arm almost immediately, and he bares his teeth at her in a savage grin.

"Nice try, darlin'. But what have I told you about non-vital areas?"

He lunges at her then, all flashing metal and a flurry of limbs. She adds to the thickness of her armour, just in case, and responds. Her body moves with an almost animalistic grace, lunges and dives and dodges. His claws scrape across her belly, shredding leather like it was paper and raising sparks on the dark red armour beneath. A grin of her own appears as she sees an opening, and she lunges for it, hands like knives reaching for his unprotected throat.

She doesn't even see him move before his boot lands in her side, sending her rolling over the floor. Where her skin is exposed, deep gouges are left on the floor. He moves in for the kill, aiming his claws at her unprotected eyes, and stops, mere millimetres away.

"Bang, you're dead, darlin'."

She doesn't blink, but the blue glow of her eyes intensifies. "You win, yes?" she says at last, accented voice soft and yet somehow amused. "Not so bad for an old man."

"Humph." he sheathes his claws, holds out his hand to help her up. "I think I liked it better when you were calling me 'Mister Logan', kid."

She takes his hand despite the sharpness of her skin. It's an agreement they reached long ago, when she first asked him to teach her. "I still could, if you like," she replied, tone teasing now. The dull red of her skin is lightening, as he pulls her up, becoming a lighter red as she wills her skin to soften. "Since you are still the teacher."

"You're getting better. Nearly had me there once or twice." He watches the shredded skin and muscle of his palm heal, and then lays his hand on her leather-clad shoulder. "Go hit the showers, 'Spike'. We're done for the day."

She wrinkles her nose. "How much longer must I answer to this ridiculous trainee name, Logan? It's... undignified."

"'Til you get your tags. Which won't happen if you keep dropping your guard like that. Now, scoot. Get ready for that date of yours."

The blush doesn't show, but they both know it's there. "How do you... oh, enhanced hearing. That is cheating, Logan."

"Actually, it's the talk of the journals. You two made me ten bucks." He laughs at her expression. "Make sure he shows you a good time. And no hanky panky, or I'll know."

"I am nineteen, Logan. Not a little girl." He looks down at her. There's a good foot of height's difference between them. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"Exactly. No hanky panky." There's the slightest edge of a growl in his voice, but she smiles at him and pats the hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be good, Logan," she tells him, and then heads for the showers, a small, slim girl, the spikes of her hair slowly morphing into long, dark-red locks. At the door to the Danger Room she pauses, and looks back. "Next time, then?"

Logan nods, smiles. "Next time, Yvette."