Fight Club
Summary: Peyton has no idea how a simple favor she did for a friend ended up with a trip to Sin City, Married, broke and her name on an underground fight club. What's a girl to do?
A/N: This story was written as a tension relief for my angsty drama, 'Regarding Henry'. I wrote it for laughs in a comic spirit so please don't take it too seriously. It's meant to be a dramedy.
I must confessed that it was also motivated by watching Peyton's boxing moves during her conversation with Nathan in season 4 and sweaty, angry Peyton with a mean right hook is hot!
I also want to thank Crashspike for encouraging me to post this after waiting a whole year to read this thing. I hope you like it, my friend.
Setting: AU. One Month after Graduation, just before Peyton's Eighteenth Birthday. Rachel stayed in Tree Hill after being cut off by her Parents. Brooke was dragged of to L.A by her Parents and Peyton never dated Lucas after Brooke dumped him.
Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill.
Chapter 1: Heat Wave
One Month after Graduation
"What do you mean you can't come out for three days?" Rachel Gatina was not having a good day. Actually, she wasn't having a good week. The heat wave since July 4th had put her in a foul mood. Her hair was persistently limp and dull, that no amount of her hair products could fix. She could have sworn her face was melting off. She kicked the air conditioning unit cover again as if it was personally offending her. And it was. "Shit, shit, shit." She screeched, when it popped open and water poured from somewhere all over her, not nearly new enough Gucci heels. "Look, water is dumping onto my floor and I can't live in this godforsaken sauna anymore without a perfectly running air conditioner you got it. I want someone out here NOW."
Rachel's tirade was met with silence. "Hellooooo"
"Ma'am, you need to make sure you turn the unit off at the mains. We have you down for July, tenth between 12 and 3. I'm sorry, but that's the soonest we can get you in for. Everyone's got problems with this heat. You want it or not?"
"Fine, I'll take it but you'd better be here on time or I swear I will sue you for personal injury." She hung up, disgusted and boiling in frustration.
Whatever possessed her to stay in this godforsaken, one air conditioning service town? Throwing her cell phone down, she grabbed as many towels as she could and dumped it all on top of the wet floor and stomped all over it. This was way too much work for one hundred degrees. She wasn't supposed to be dealing with these types of chores. She missed the days when she had housemaids. Damn her parents. She was going to make them pay! Three whole days. No way was she going to stay here for three horrible heat filled days. She threw a few things into an overnight bag and grabbed her car keys. She knew exactly where she could get comfortable until her trip for a thoroughly air-conditioned and unadulterated fun.
"So you're going to stay there all summer? Then what?"
"Geez Peyton, we only graduated a month ago. And yeah, my stupid parents are making me stay here all summer. They want me to go to Business school too, or they won't give me the money to expand my clothing line. God, they suck. It's too bad that heat wave of yours isn't wrapped around Bitchtoria. At least it would be fun to watch her melt. Witch..."
"Eww, you realize you just poisoned half of L.A. with toxic ooze."
"You don't know what she's doing to me. She's making me crazy, dragging me to all these supposedly VIP parties where I have to watch her dance with a bunch of old people. It's a total nightmare. I swear I'm scarred for life after watching her rub her...
"Eww stop. TMI." Peyton screwed her face in distaste.
"Well, if I have to witness it, you should have to suffer it with me Bestie."
"You know, you kinda dance like her."
"I do not. You take that back right now Peyton Elisabeth Sawyer, or I will fly out there and kick your scrawny ass."
Peyton chuckled a little. She could practically see the threat on her best friend's face. "Well, if that'll get you to come back. You dance exactly like her."
"Bitch. You're supposed to come out and spring me, not insult me."
"With what? I have $212.17 to my name."
"What? What happened to the money you made from Tric?"
"Um..."
"You spent it all on your dumb CD's didn't you?"
"Okay, first off my CD's are not dumb. And Rachel's parents cut her off."
"Ouch. I thought they were bluffing."
"Nope. Not bluffing."
"How is the skank anyway?"
"Crying over the fact that she can't have the latest Louis Vicious bag or something."
"It's Luis Vuitton Peyton. Have I taught you nothing? And please tell me you did not give her money to buy it."
"Off course not."
"Good, because then I'd be super jealous. What about your emergency funds?"
"For emergencies?"
"Don't roll your eyes at me!. Springing me is an emergency."
"You know I would if I could, right?"
"Yeah, I know. This really sucks Peyton."
There was brief silence.
"Yeah. Don't worry about it" Peyton swallowed her disappointment. "So what other tortures do your Stepford parents have in store for you?"
"Oh they've made an appointment for me to take a tour of some stupid private business college today and tomorrow, it's some balding CEO's Son's Bir... his... something party."
…
"You still there P. Sawyer?"
"Yeah. Listen try not to commit matricide or anything okay. I've got something to do."
"'Hey stay cool 'kay. Tell everyone I said Hi."
"Sure, later B. Davis." Peyton hung up. She tossed her phone on her bed, peeled off her clothes, and threw on a pair of boxers shorts and an old tank top she managed to shrink in the dryer. She and Brooke had planned on doing something for her birthday this year, and so far, Brooke hadn't even mentioned it or was afraid to mention it. She knew her best friend was just avoiding the subject, probably because she felt guilty and Brooke was a pro at avoiding that sentiment. She stomped her way down to the basement, flipped on the lights and turned on the stereo that Derek had thoughtfully set up for her, along with Billy, the Slam Man. Strapping on her mma boxing gloves, she threw a few half-hearted taps at good old Bill who joggled lightly to taunt her. She walked back to the stereo and shuffled through her workout collection until The Ramones came on. She cranked up the volume, not satisfied until the work bench vibrated. Feeling buzzed from the punk rock vibes, she started to beat the hell out of Billy. "Sorry Bill," Peyton grimaced on his behalf as she landed a punch right into the bulging plastic between his legs.
"PEYTON" Rachel thumped on the Sawyers' door, not for the first time. She had pressed the bell at least twenty times, ten of which, with spite, but all to no avail. The girl had either actually gone deaf from the high octane music that blared from the house, or she had found herself another stalker and was busy getting tied up in the basement, in which case she should probably break in to save her. It was starting to get dark. The bedroom window lights were on, so she tried pelting the window with a handful of the flower bed, but the stupid, tiny stones just rained on her on, little pieces sticking to her matted hair. She was so over this goddamn heat. And to add insult to injury, on her earlier traipse around the Sawyer house to get attention, she had fallen on her ass, crushing her nearly new Armani sunglasses, which she had stupidly slipped into her back jean pocket. The Comet was outside, so Rachel knew the deaf little shit was home. All these failed attempts to get Peyton's attention was making her so steaming mad, that she was dumping one more layer of heat on top of unbearable heat on her nearly sizzling skin. She was getting into the air conditioning come hell or high water. If she couldn't find a way in? Well, she planned on calling the Police to report a disturbance of the peace or a kidnapping. Whichever would get her inside the damned house.
Peyton's arms were about to fall off after a solid 45 minutes of steady sparring with good ole Bill. Only her legs now sported fresh bruises from mastering the various kicks her latest classes demanded. She regretted not taking the time to return to the Dojo for her shin guards. The lessons from Master Tien were paying off. She'd have to remember to write her brother to thank him for her birthday gifts. Derek was the only good thing that came out of the whole psycho Ian mess. Even from Iraq, he found a way to e-mail her or maybe it was his sneaky way to compel her to keep up with her training. She smiled at the recent packages that arrived on her doorstep. All fighting gear, most of it protective, even a jock strap. His sense of humor had definitely improved. He promised her a real sparring match the next time he was home, and she wanted to show him she could kick his ass or at least not get her ass kicked. The only way for her to hold her own against a war veteran, was to train hard and train often. The deal was, if she managed to beat Derek, she would get to ride shotgun in an F-18. How cool would that be? There was definite advantages to having a decorated Marine for a Bro.
A set of red lights flashed in the corners of the basement, and Peyton immediately stilled. Someone had tripped off the sensors her brother installed. Memories of Ian flashed in her mind. She cursed herself for leaving her cell phone in her bedroom. Instinctively, she lowered the volume to listen, but leaving on the music loud enough to distract the intruder from her movements. Another muttered curse left her, this time for leaving the tool box with the handy doohickeys in the garage after unclogging the drain line from the air conditioner. A hefty widget in her hand would feel really good right about now. She had no weapons besides her gloved fists. Slowly, she moved up the stairs, certain she had checked the doors before her workout. Hadn't she?
"Goddamn stupid rotten porch." Rachel cussed with venom, sprawled on Peyton's back porch after tripping on some loose bricks, her face inches away from a hiddeous, grinning, Gnome shaped planter full of weeds. Gnome? Full of weeds?
"I left Peyton's key in a loose brick behind the weedy, evil Gnome." Brooke's voice sang in her mind. "You know, just in case you guys need it. You know the trouble she gets into."
"Aha. Thank you, thank you Davis, you just saved my life." Rachel snatched up the golden key and tossed the brick into the creepy Gnome, then flew to jam the key into the lock. "Ugh, come on." She muttered, shaking the door and jiggling the key back and forth. "You'd better not have changed the locks Sawyer, or I swear I'm going to kick your skinny deaf ass." She threatened Peyton's door as she gave it another shove. The door flew opened behind her weight and Rachel stumbled forward. At once, she was hit with a blast of cool air, and she wanted to fall on her knees in worship. She shut the door quickly, then laid on the ground, face pressed against the cold tile floor. She was sorely tempted to strip everything off to feel the cool ecstasy beneath every inch of her. "Harrhh... so good" she sighed, "feels sooo good..." she moaned, making slushy, wet, sweat Angel on Peyton's kitchen floor.
At the top of the stairs, Peyton's eyes adjusted to the twilight. So far so good. She strained to listen and heard some jiggling and shaking from the back door. At least the thief was a crappy one, though that didn't make her feel any more safe. She closed her eyes, trying to swallow down the encroaching fear. Her mouth was desert dry and she felt as though she'd gone ten rounds running from Mike Tyson. She forced herself to slow her breathing. If she was going to surprise the intruder, she was going to have to stay calm. She played the various moves and scenarios her lessons with Master Tien had taught her over the past six months. It was amazing how many moves you could cover in your mind in a few seconds. Despite the mental battle she had just won against the intruder, her heart was still trying to beat out of her chest, and her throat was still parched. She slid silently into the hallway and hid beside the partly opened door to the kitchen. The intruder would have to come through that doorway to get further into the house. Heart pounding furiously, she focused on the sounds from the intruder and heard some commotion and some moaning. This confused her. Maybe the intruder had hurt himself getting in. She considered making her move to take advantage of a klutzy, incompetent thief, but couldn't be sure.
"Patience, in the face of menace, still the fear. Use your head and find an advantage. Be certain to use it wisely before you act foolishly and rush into danger. Be patient, and covet your advantage."
The words of her Sifu played through her mind, reminding her not to jump into a bad situation. She stuck with her original plan and waited for the intruder to make his first move.
After several minutes of worshipful lovemaking with Peyton's kitchen floor, Rachel reluctantly climbed to her feet. Her sweat soaked, brand new Donna Karen silk, clung to her like a wet dish rag. She followed the sound of the Ramones, heading towards the hallway to find Peyton. She found the light switch, then changed her mind, deciding to surprise the Blonde and not in a good way. A little revenge would cool her off nicely. It would served the little punk right for not answering her cell or her door and putting her through all the grieve of getting inside the house. Besides, someone should pay for her ruined accessories. After her hot hell of a day, she was looking to vent, and the Blonde was always good for that.
"Remember. No Fear." Derek's voice joined in.
No Fear. She mouthed silently, and braced herself for the coming confrontation.
Arms relaxed, shoulders loose, fists curled easily to lock on impact, knees slightly bent, and feet planted firmly to lightly favor the balls of her feet to spring into action. Bring it on. She was ready. No one was messing with her. Not today. Not ever.