The Talk

Army didn't feel bad about knocking Amy out. He wasn't sure how healthy that was, but that was the truth.

Granted, he knew Amy well enough to say that she wouldn't have complained about getting knocked out. Knowing her, she might have even found it kinky, and seeing as he owed her an orgasm, that would be a good start. So, when she woke up, there probably wouldn't be any real complaining on her end about him picking up the win. She was a good sport like that, as much as she tried to act like she wasn't.

Somehow, though, as he sat in the back while she laid on the doctor's table, he didn't feel much like a winner. Wasn't going to celebrate his first win in almost an entire year. He just wanted Amy to wake up.

The doctor cleared her, threw a bunch of medical terms Army's way that he didn't understand. It wasn't anything serious or permanent - he'd just hit her hard enough to knock her straight out, and she'd wake up within the hour, fine as ever. Simple. Army suspected the doctor was saying a little of that to get him to ease up, though, because it had been over an hour and Amy was still off like a light switch. And he knew this because he'd been checking the time on his phone every three minutes. One hour and fifteen minutes. And counting.

He sighed and sat back in the chair that was still soaking from his sweat. Watching. Waiting. Strongly considering whether or not he'd drag the doctor back in to check up on her again. Army finally started undoing the tape around his fists, remembering that they were covered up for the first time since the match ended.

Amy's journey back to wakefulness was an unpleasant affair. Whereas her sleep was dreamless and uncomplicated, the land of the sensory was harsh and unforgiving. The fluorescent lights felt cruelly bright, even through her closed eyelids. And, once she had achieved a level of consciousness near enough the surface to register pain, everything fell on her at once- the ache in her chest, the soreness in her back. But nothing could compare to the jackhammer working away in her brain, threatening to bust through her skull from the inside out; it was like she was nursing the mother of all hangovers. Amy's eyes stayed shut; more specifically, they squeezed tighter together, and she groaned like she wanted to die. Her legs shifted slightly; her arms felt heavy, but they could have been bolted down and she still would have found the strength to bring one up to her brow. Her cognitive abilities weren't quite up to speed yet, but they were functional enough to wonder one thing: what happened?

Army had just started to stand up and head out again when the sound of her groan caught his attention and made him turn around - she was up, finally. Looking groggy as hell, but mostly okay. Tough girl. Crazy girl.

"Hey." He wandered back into the light of the room, moving slow so he wouldn't startle her too much. He'd been knocked out a few times, too, and he could say from personal experience that she probably wouldn't want him all in her face when she was just coming out of it. Her brain was still rebooting, didn't need any shocks. "It's all right, take it easy, you're fine." He moved over to the foot of the bed and leaned on the rail, looking over her way as he let out a small, relieved sigh."Just wound up taking a little nap, that was all."

Amy froze. The fluorescent lights should have been a clue, but Army's voice confirmed that she wasn't home in bed. Was she at Army's? Then she started to remember. Oh right, the match. She remembered constricting Army with her legs. She remembered kicking him into a corner, then working over his body. She remembered his guard crumbling, and her about to finish it, starting with a delicious hook right to his face. How did she end up being the one to take the nap?

Amy peeked out from beneath her hand, then shut her eye right back up again. Vision was not worth the added havoc it wreaked on her head. "Where...?" She began, then something changed her mind. "Water, please." Then she tried again. "Where are we?"

Right, water, should've thought of that. They'd been fighting hard before she got knocked out, and her body was still dehydrated. "On it, babe."

Army moved over to a nearby refridgerator they had set up in the room and popped it open, fishing around for a cool bottle of water. "We are in the AFW's trauma ward...place, I guess. Whatever you call it. They have this little area set up in the back to deal with injuries and shit, so you don't have to take an ambulance ride everytime you get hurt in the ring. Pretty handy, spent some time back here after my first match."

He brought the bottle out and laid it on her shoulder, so she wouldn't have to reach far to get it. "How you feeling?" Army moved back and started to slide his chair over, wanting to get closer to the bedside while they talked.

Amy struggled to a sitting position and took the water gratefully. "Thanks, Ace." She unscrewed the top and took a long, thirsty pull. She'd been punched out. It was the only explanation. Army could move his legs unexpectedly quickly, but his kicks weren't nearly as practiced as his punches were, and she felt as though she would have dodged a kick. But last thing she remembered, his arms were loose at his sides. So how...?

"I'm feeling better, thank you." To prove it, Amy bit the bullet and opened her eyes. Except for her instant wince and the return of her hand to her head, you could hardly tell that Satan was using an icepick to carve his initials into her brain. But she felt that talking was helping, so she kept at it. "How long was I out?"

God, she had pretty eyes. They were this weird, glowing blue color - he'd seen blue eyes before, sure, but none that bright. Needless to say, he was very happy to see them both again, and if he could just get a smile to go along with them, it would be the total package.

"Little over an hour." He blopped down in the chair and scooted over the rest of the way to the bedside, settling at a comfortable distance away. He leaned forward, not exactly sure what to say. 'Sorry'? He hadn't done anything she wouldn't want him to do in a match. It was a fair shot, not like he cheated, and she'd had him on the ropes for a good bit near the end. They'd fought before, it wasn't any new concept.

"Good match." It came out before he realized it, but it felt right. "You kicked so much ass out there. I mean, well, it was my ass, so...yeah, you get what I'm saying. Nice fight." He waved his phone her way. "Carmen gave you props."

Over an hour. Waking up was painful, but that explained why she felt so well-rested otherwise. But an hour was plenty of time for him to have showered and gotten back into his street clothes. “Why-” Then she stopped herself. Army wasn’t the most patient of people, so it really meant a lot when she figured out why he was still in his ring attire. She blinked, and then her mouth slowly stretched out into that smile that he’d been hoping to see.

Then she laughed. “Carmen did? Tell her thanks. It means a lot coming from her. And yeah, that was one of our better ones. First one we actually finished, I think. Good fight.” She turned and held out a fist for a bump. “And congrats. I might have kicked a lot of ass, but, in the end, you kicked more.” Maybe it was the headache, but something seemed a little different about Army. He seemed like he was looking a little more intently into her eyes than normal, and what was this nervous energy in the air? Was something the matter? "How's your side, by the way?"

Army was easing up, now. Breathing easier. His shoulders dropped. Amy was fine, she was her same old, joking self, giving him little potshots wherever she could. Nothing to worry about, right?

"Right, my side."He settled back into the chair and started reaching for his side, slowly trailing his hand over his bones. Honestly, he'd been so focused on the fight and Amy getting hit that he'd almost completely forgotten about his own injuries, and that little sting he had every time he breathed too deep.

"One sec, just let me..." His hand trailed up, higher up his body, until he reached that one little spot of extreme pain and winced. "Oh, yeah, there it is. My side feels like total shit, there's your answer." He managed to smile through the pain. Weak and weird, but it came out. "I'll think about you everytime I laugh for a week, good job."

Amy grinned. "Good. I hope you have a really good week." Then Amy bit her lip. Things felt good; they felt right. Amy swung her legs around so that they hung off the edge of the doctor's table, opening her water bottle as she did. "Hey, Army," It had been a while since her last boyfriend, and longer still since she had been the one asking. She felt a little rusty, so she opted for the direct approach; she asked her question, and then followed it up with a nonchalant pull from her water bottle, but she kept her eyes on Army the entire time. "Wanna be my boyfriend?"