I am in love with the movie Never Back Down, and Cam Gigandet/Sean Farris (two of my favorite actors of all time) being in it make it sooo much more amazing! I prefer stronger female characters though, so this is my remix of the movie relationships. Maybe a one shot, maybe more if I get good reviews!

I looked up at the ceiling. My jaw hurt like hell, but I'd live... He pulled me closer into his side. The heat of his rock hard abs soaked through my splayed fingers. He rolled over, putting me half under him, his face buried in my neck. I sighed, he chuckled.

"You like that, hm?" I could only nod as I felt his lips press to my neck.

"And that?" my head bounced up and down as he kissed me again. I felt his grin as he nuzzled my hair, shifting his weight, and placed a knee on each side of my thighs. He leaned down, and captured my mouth with his own, not waiting for me to part my own lips, but forcing his tongue inside. What seemed like an eternity shrunk into a second later, he pulled back to breathe.

"I know you liked that." His cocky grin stopped me from having to lie again. He pulled my arms up above my head, holding me captive. I looked up into his face, anxiety building in my stomach. What did I do to deserve this?

~*~

On my wrist is a tattoo. People always want to know who Sonny is. "You're boyfriend?" they always say. Their stupid looks that read "What a fool, it'll never last". They could never understand. Sonny was 16 the day he died. The day I lost my older brother; the day I lost my whole family to be totally honest. My father drank himself stupid, my mother gave up her own life in her pain. I… well I can't blame her. I lost a little of myself that day.

It was his own stupid fault, how many times had I begged him not to go to the clubs? To stay away from those pathetic boys with nothing better to do then make each other bleed? But he went anyway. And he won. He always won; my brother was the best fighter that underground of amateurs had ever seen. But the kid he beat wasn't a very gracious loser. Put a gun to Sonny's head. I wish it'd been mine.

At his funeral, Sonny's fighting friends came to show their respects. I remember watching the faces of everyone around me. Hearing them whisper Poor things in shock, look how she doesn't even cry? I wasn't in shock. I didn't cry because I had no reason to. Crying is for the sad. I wasn't sad, I was angry. And I stayed angry.

At the end of the funeral, Sonny's friends came to talk to me. I was at least two years younger than any of them, but still the only one of the family to ever meet even one of them. I always went to the matches, whether I wanted Sonny there or not, I was loyal to a t. Ryan, his closest friend, hugged me. I remember that clearly, because Ryan doesn't hug people. He hits them. Frequently. With joy. But he hugged me that day, and every day after that too. He picked me up for school in place of my brother, he came to my soccer games in place of my brother, he beat up the jerk that dumped me in front of half the school at my junior prom, in place of my brother. For a long time I tried to pretend he was my brother. It just made things so much simpler to lie to myself. To ignore all the times I caught him staring at me. To tell my friends he was just doing me a favor, since he and Sonny were close. To tell myself he thought of me as a little sister… even though the truth was far from it.

After I graduated, I wasn't sure what to do, where to go. I never liked the idea of college, what was a C average kid like me gonna use another certificate for anyway? But I wanted out; the house I grew up in wasn't home anymore. It hadn't been since Sonny… I never really had to make the decision though. Ryan took me to dinner that night, since he was the only person close to me that came to the ceremony. That was the night things started to change. We sat down at this little outdoor café and, as usual, Ryan got straight to the point, without a second of hesitation or emotion.

"So, you moving in with me now or what?" I remember not even looking at him. I just smiled a little, looking at the cars passing in the street, and said,

"Yeah, you win, I'll bring my stuff over tomorrow." We made small talk for the rest of the evening, exchanging opinions about his last fight, and his next one. When he went to take me home, he stopped outside of my house like usual, except this time, his goodbye was different.

Normally, Ryan would make some stupid remark about how ridiculous it was that I still slept at this address, even though I did all of my school work at his place, hung out and ate all my meals at his place, and left half my crap there on a regular basis. Then he'd give me this awkward hug, which I'd try to get out of pretty fast unless I was having a bad day, and he'd hold on to for as long as possible. That night, like I said, it was different.

"Why don't you just grab a bag and crash at home tonight, I'll drive you back in the morning to get the rest of it." I did look at him this time, thinking it over. Why not? So I grabbed my stuff and got back into the truck a few minutes later. When we got to the loft he had downtown, Ryan didn't get out right away.

"Welcome home, baby." He gave me that grin. The one he always wore getting into the ring, when he's sure he's gonna win. It made my pulse jump about ten notches, and half a second later he was pulling my stuff from the back seat and bounding up the steps of the building. I didn't really recover from that statement that night. Probably why what ended up happening, did. Home… it felt good to say that, finally, and believe it. But what really got me, was the baby part. I had a feeling that was coming. I just wasn't prepared for how soon. And the surprises just kept coming.

When I walked through the door, Ryan wasn't in sight. Which was odd, considering the only parts of the loft you can't see from that standpoint are the bathroom, and the bedroom; which both lie behind closed doors.

"Ryan?" that's when I heard my stuff hit the floor in the next room. The bedroom. And Ryan walked out from there, already down to just the sweatpants that are his normal attire when it's just the two of us chillin'. He must have seen the look of apprehension on my face cause that was when he said the words I'd been fearing,

"I'm not letting my girl sleep on the couch, Princess." How I hate that nick name. How I hate that title. And oh, how I hate fighting.

~*~

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