The Warrior with No Name

By: The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie

(Nope. No owning of characters. Marvel's got 'em.

Ladies and gents and Ratdogs too, I present the sparring scene between Kitty and Piotr. And naturally Illyana has to break out the popcorn.

I look forward to any comments anyone has. Hope the pacing was okay for this chapter.)

#

Wow.

How incredibly stupid…

It was classic. It was comical even. But not to the two warriors who faced off. Illyana and Lockheed, however, found the entire thing most entertaining. Kitty and Piotr were quite the match. Their positions—the muscular black-haired Russian towering above the slight brunette American—were reversed so suddenly that it was all Illyana could do not to barrel over laughing. She brought her hand up to stifle her giggles, her blue eyes dancing jovially. Even the dragon gave a mirthful dragon's laugh, and with it, Illyana's hand no longer could contain her laughter.

"Piotr," she murmured, half laughing half crying, "you should know better than to challenge a woman's ego."

This was so good that she edged around the combatants to make more popcorn, laughing all the while, the blue eyes that matched her brother's never leaving them for a minute. It was at that moment, Illyana decided that they would make the most perfect couple.

Ever.

She needed a new niece or nephew.

#

Jerk. Bastard. Asshole. Fuckerhead.

Kitty's outrage made her forget all the generous notions she had been stupid enough to consider in regards to Piotr and his sister. She saw red. And let him know exactly what she thought of him.

When Piotr hit the floor, he hit it so hard that it vibrated. Two hundred and fifty pounds with force made for quite the loud thump. The look of surprise on the big man's face was priceless. Astonished wonder, mixed with awe and a little male ego thrown in. If Kitty hadn't been so furious with him, she would have laughed. She might have even tackled him and kissed him soundly. But she was entirely too mad at him to do much more than shake with a barely controlled rage. She glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. Yeah, if looks could kill, he'd be sizzling right about now. So much and more "Flame on" and all that.

How dare this idiot. There she'd been trying to give his kid sister a few pointers so Logan wouldn't do too much damage to her, and then whoops, there went Kitty's feet. Oh, hello, floor, says Kitty's butt, how are we today? Just fine, says the floor, enjoy your stay.

What the hell was going through the big lug's mind anyway?

Well, duh. Nothing. He's an idiot fuckerhead.

She made a low noise in the back of her throat. "Your turn over so soon?" she goaded through clenched teeth.

Kitty felt an unwelcome surge of excitement as she studied his body. Sure he was big and hot, but she still felt compelled to remain angry with him. Even when the muscles ripping under his tee-shirt sent her pulse racing as he stood in one fluid motion. Even when he stood tall and straight like a towering spruce in her living room. Even when he suddenly looked at her like he wanted her for dinner. God, give me strength.

"I am a bit rusty," he said, gave a shrug that made his shirt tighten more against his shoulders. Kitty only narrowed her eyes, ignoring the way his eyes boldly admired her, the way his movements superheated her skin, made her feel like melting. She relaxed into a ready position. Oh, he was going down. Damn Commie bastard.

#

Trouble.

Women were trouble. Kitty was trouble. There was no doubt about that. He was in trouble. He was in way over his head, in more ways than one. His damn sister was laughing at him. She was in trouble, too. He would ground her for the rest of her life when this was over.

Piotr tried to breathe, but the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. His legs hurt, too. Kitty had kicked him mid-thigh, jabbing her heel into the pressure point in his muscle and then with the same foot kicked the back of knees. With her other foot, she had swept his ankles. Rolling out of the way of his tumbling form and to her feet quickly, she awaited his next move, her face thunderous.

As their gazes met, it occurred to him that her eyes were like obsidian, as hot as volcanic rock, the deep centers flecked with rich gold and forest green. He was reminded of the Baikal Mountains in the summertime. He stared. He wanted to paint her, not just a sketch or a drawing, but a larger than life painting, and hang it on a wall above a fire place. Her odd, light-brown eyes darkened with emotion—in this case anger. Beautiful.

White Wolf.

He was as the Americans say 'a goner.'

Her eyes blazed with righteous fire, licking at him like the flames in his apartment the night before. He didn't know if he should be afraid or completely turned on. Kitty Pryde and licking, he thought, should not be referenced in the same sentence. (Or the same paragraph.)

This was insane. What had he been thinking? He hadn't been in a real fight since just after he had killed Moira's son, Proteus. It weighed heavily that Moira had had to see her son die, perhaps more so now that Piotr had lost his daughter. But that was long ago and though he practiced his katas every night and pumped weights every other day, he felt he was not yet ready to take on a powerful opponent. And that wasn't even the problem. They were only sparring.

The big problem was that he wanted her. He couldn't breathe for the want of her. (He ignored the fact, for now, that he was winded from landing on his back on the floor.) Piotr wanted his mouth on her, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he wanted to take them to the sweet abyss that could only come with sex. And she wasn't even his. They would only be friends. And he knew she wasn't the type to allow only one night. No, she was 'for life' type woman. Someone completely opposite the woman he had ended up marrying. He understood what Kitty had meant when she had left his apartment a few days ago.

She had inquired almost meekly, "Wanna exchange numbers?"

"Just friends, right?" He had been hesitant, fearful of the unknown. What had he really known of this abandoned kitten? Did he really want to start anything with her?

She'd been quick to assure him, not telling him of her true relationship with Logan. "Naturally. I've been through too much to really want anything else." She had been quick to add, "Not that I think you'd dump me in the middle of nowhere to fend for myself. I just enjoy talking to you, enjoy your company. Any problem with that?"

He had been so mesmerized by her eyes, her petite nose, her full lips. Those lips would be the death of him, he was sure. Of course he didn't have any problem with getting to know her. He mentally snorted. Look at him now.

He'd pushed her far too hard. And now she was angry—no, furious—with him. His sister was right. He should have known better than to challenge a woman's ego. Especially this woman. He was playing with fire. Now she probably hated him and was going to kick him and his sister out at any moment. After handing him his balls in a Zip lock baggy.

All this for what? To be close to her? To drive the loneliness away? He had Mikhail. He had Illyana. He didn't need her. She reminded him of what he had, of what he could have again.

Damn it, he should have just asked her to dinner. She'd come to lunch with him. But, no, instead he was laying on his back gaping like a goldfish without a fishbowl. It was like he had this compulsion to bait her, to watch her eyes light up with a fury he'd never seen. He pushed her. To see what she would do, could do. What her capabilities were.

Did Logan see the same thing he did? Did Logan see the fiery woman standing above him? Logan had spoken of Shadowcat with the same reverent tone he used for Jean Grey, the same tone he used for Mariko. He drove the black monster back by taking his thoughts in another direction.

She was so…tiny. Surely he could take her. He was Piotr Nikoleivitch Rasputin, the mighty Colossus. He narrowed his eyes at her. He could take her. Shadowcat and martial arts master-possession be damned.

"Your turn over so soon?" Kitty asked. Piotr took a breath, and then another and slowly stood, dwarfing her.

"I'm a bit rusty," he admitted, proud that his voice didn't sound as unsure as he felt.

Illyana laughed heartily from her cross-legged position on the floor. Lockheed had curled around her shoulders. "You're going to get your ass kicked, big brother."

Piotr looked wounded. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"You're up against the Shadowcat."

He sighed and jabbed experimentally at Kitty's face. She moved with ease and grace and with a speed that he'd not witnessed since Danger Room practice with Wolverine. She latched on to his wrist, twisted it painfully around and threw him to the ground. Had he not rolled when she'd thrown, Kitty would have dislocated his shoulder.

"And you not even trying is gonna really piss me off," she warned, fire continuing to dance in her eyes.

He couldn't help but grin up at her, amused with how her voice lilted with just enough anger to send a thrill down his spine and into his gut. Wow. He really was insane. It wasn't like he was planning on procreating anymore. But he liked his testicles. Now he just had to figure out a way to save them.

His phone rang, and he mentally thanked every deity he had ever been introduced to, and although she was a mutant and not a goddess, he sent his thanks to Storm too.

"Hey, Pete, d'ya think we could go for out for a bit? I really gotta talk man."

"David?" Piotr sighed. The last twenty-four hours came back to him in a rush.

Lunch with Kitty. Soda in his nose. Kitty leaving in a rush. Illyana's snarky comments to Mrs. Brogan and David. The crunchy soup. Illyana's tears over her lost friend. Changing for the first time since before his divorce. The fire. Saving those who needed it. Naked Kitty.

"Tovarisch," he said, "I am with Illyana and Kitty."

He ran a hand over his face, through his hair, his shoulders sagging. He stepped out onto the veranda, the wind ruffling his hair, stirring his clothing. He gripped the phone with one hand, the banister with the other, looking at the lush common area and aquamarine pool several stories below. At least Brooklyn smelled better than the Bronx.

David laughed, but it sounded…off. "How about a threesome then? My treat. Kitty lives in Brooklyn right? How about Paradise Garden. Dinner. At five. When's Kitty gotta be at work? Does she work tonight? Illyana's out of school. It's Friday. Dinner at five should be alright. Right? Paradise Garden's Russian. It works. Right?"

Piotr had to concentrate on David's monologue, feeling sorry for the man. David sounded desperate. He understood his loss. The body that Piotr had brought out of the fire had not been Mrs. Brogan's. Mrs. Brogan's body was found behind her charred sofa, a bullet in her chest. A cold sweat broke out on his brow at the thought. The woman he'd known for the last ten years was dead. Murdered.

Amelia should have come on this trip. David needed her, needed her like he needed air. Piotr had set them up after he had dated her for—a week? A month? It had been before Zilya died. He could no longer remember. She was a sweet girl. David had been smitten. Giving a sigh, the Russian made up his mind and walked back into Kitty's apartment. "David wants to take us to dinner."

Kitty gave a nod, her eyes still flickering with emotion. Illyana rolled her eyes. Piotr only wagged a thick finger at her. More eye rolling with an added rude gesture. Incensed, Piotr turned back to his conversation lest he begin yelling.

"Five o'clock works, David," he told the younger man who then asked another round of questions that Piotr barely caught he was speaking so quickly. "Tovarisch, I cannot—No, I don't think—That's ridiculous—Why would they—I didn't have anything to do with that fire. They have my number if they have any more questions."

"I'll see you at five o'clock then." David hung up.

"Five o'clock?" Kitty looked at the clock. "I think I'll have just enough time to kick your ass, Bear King."

Piotr felt a smile spread over his face, and he put his phone on the bar.

Kitty and Piotr circled each other, one warrior judging the other, Kitty bouncing on the balls of her feet. Piotr jabbed with his left hand, but Kitty blocked easily and slid into a kick that he just barely deflected. The petite woman went for a leg sweep, but he blocked it. He punched again, bringing his knee up to block a kick aimed at his ribs. She punched, and he went to block, thought better of it and caught her wrist easily. Her hands were small, soft. They grappled momentarily as she fought for control. She kicked again, and he caught her ankle. He smiled, noticing her pink toenails.

Using his superior strength, he pulled her flush against him, her leg tucked at his side, her lithe denim-clad leg bent at the knee, like they were dancing the Tango. His big arms encircled her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders pinning her arms. One of his hands was in the small of her back. Kitty glowered at him. She wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. A smile split his lips, smug and purely male.

He suddenly didn't know what to do with her. His vision tunneled to her, the room becoming hot and stuffy. If he let her go, a smile wouldn't be splitting his lips, her fist would. This kitten had claws. She struggled. He was a glutton for punishment. That had to be it.

"Can't move, little one, da?" The smug smile faded as awareness hit him as she moved in just the right way. His gaze drifted to her lips and back up to her odd-colored eyes. Those eyes that had been so haunted earlier today as they had been when she'd stepped out of that sports car and proceeded to give the man behind the wheel a thorough tongue lashing before he'd driven off in a rage. Those eyes that widened a fraction when she looked searchingly into his eyes.

"No," she whispered, and he didn't blame her. She was pissed at him, and he was proving himself crazy and stupid. For once he wanted to give into the insanity and know if she tasted as good as he thought she might. The feel of her body against his made him remember all that he lost and missed, and he knew she wasn't the type to give into just a fleeting moment. Not with her late fiancé's candle sitting on the bar next to his cell phone.

It nearly undid him when she moistened her lips with her tongue. He stifled a groan, liquid heat igniting his blood. The hand he had at her shoulder, fisted her hair, the silky strands softer than anything he could remember feeling.

"I think the fight is over," he said quietly, but he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to Kitty.

And then he dipped his head and kissed her.

#

(Ok… I need suggestions for the next chapter... Input por favor. And if anyone is into AU's as much as I am go check out Starsinger's A Whole New World under the X-men Section. Very, very different. Good stuff.)