Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Creed had picked up on the smell of gun oil that pricked the air of her bedroom since his first visit to her place. It was certainly not a smell he associated with his wife. Nor was the scent of recently fired gun powder emanating from the silver pen resting on her night stand only inches out of his reach.

Emma was taking another shower. She might say she loved him, but she sure hated smelling of him after sex. Emma claimed she was washing away the sweat, wetness, and often, blood, but Victor knew better. It was the same reason she started taking birth control in the seventies, deep down, she was disgusted by him. Once, only a handful of months before she had left, Creed confronted her about it as she slipped out of bed in the dead of night after a particularly rough session.

"I'm sorry you find my desire to be clean a bit neurotic." Emma snapped over her shoulder as his claw marks slowly closed up across her back and down her bottom. She shut and locked the bathroom door behind her.

Creed was stirred from his memories as Emma, fresh as a light breeze with her black hair wet and trailing down her breasts, wandered back into the bedroom where she had left him moments earlier. He rolled over on his side and picked up the pen to look at it closer.

"Where'd you get this trinket?" He watched her move over to him and firmly grasp the pen, but he wouldn't let go. He watched her think for a moment, not letting her grip on the pen falter but not pulling it away from him. Emma tilted her head and then smiled.

"I believe you gave this to me, a souvenir from one of your business trips to Israel?" She eased herself into his lap, pressing her damp, naked body into him. Victor let go of the pen then and allowed the moment of affection to linger softly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Frail?" He spoke into her hair, needing her to hear him, but detesting what he was about to say.

"I hate it when you call me that." She murmured as a reminder, not as an interruption.

"Yer up to no good, the whole apartment reeks of it." Victor paused to collect himself. "I don't know what I'd do if somethin' were t'happen to you." He breathed her in.

"Victor, I think that's possibly the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He groaned and tossed her across the double bed as she laughed in delight at him.

"Don't get used to it." He grunted and got up to look for his clothes.

After she stopped grinning at him, she watched his strong body reach and bend in the low sunlight. Emma loved his forearms, his abs just below his navel, his broad, solid shoulders. She didn't tell him these things anymore, he never seemed to respond, only frown at her as though she were a silly girl loving a hideous ashtray made of clay by her seven year old.

"Aren't you going to take a shower?" She sat up.

ooooooo

Victor had not taken a shower. He took another bite out of his overdone hamburger, ignoring the glances and outright stares in the restaurant as they ate dinner. Putting down half of what was his second hamburger and licking the mustard off his right middle finger, Creed cleared his throat and watched Emma dip a fry into house sauce then make two bites of it. She caught him watching her and went for another fry.

"You're creeping me out again."

"Yeah, I do that." He reached for her french fries and grabbed three. "I got more business in town." Finally answering the question she had asked hours ago.

Emma looked up and scrunched her face up in puzzlement. "That doesn't happen often, two job offers in the same place so soon."

"Always someone needin' killin', doll." Victor picked up his hamburger again and took a bite.

It was a bit strange to be fair, Creed only took on the most important clients, screened through Birdy herself. He chewed thoughtfully both on his dinner and on that tidbit of information. His chewing slowed, he swallowed. Anger began filling inside him but he waved away her questions irritably.

Dinner was over.

oooooooo

"Are ya tryin' t'play me, Birdy?" Anyone on his floor would be able to hear him yelling into the phone at his assistant. Emma worked around him to make the hotel bed he wouldn't let housekeeping clean.

"Mr. Creed?" Birdy said helplessly on the other end, not understanding what was happening. In fact at this point, only Victor knew why he was so angry.

"Ya doctor up some yuppie for me ta hit all so's I'll stay in town longer!" His speech was beginning to dip back into poor English, more so than usual, and spittle was flying. "Whaddya think I am? Stupid?!" There was half a moment of silence. "BIRDY!"

"No! I – it's just I don't know what you're talking about! It's real! The contract is real!" Her voice was rising to the point where it hurt his ears. This typically meant she was telling the truth but could do nothing to prove it and was afraid he would strike her.

Emma was fluffing his pillows now, frowning at him and his behaviour. Fuck her, he thought. "Stop it or I'll smack that look right off yer face." He growled lowly, moving the receiver away from his face. Birdy continued to yap in his ear about details of the contract he didn't care about, and which meant nothing to him. He was confused but refused to admit the coincidence that Emma pointed out over dinner.

"Birdy, if I find out you duped me, I'm gonna rip yer heart out and shove it up yer—"

"Victor!" Emma threw the pillow at him angrily. Creed slammed the phone down where it clattered in the cradle. He grabbed a handful of sheets and ripped them off the bed into a heap across the room, destroying Emma's attempts at tidying his space.

"I'm leaving." She snapped up her purse and walked confidently to the door of his hotel room. It closed with a heavy thud and he listened to her walk to the elevators before kicking the bed across the room.