®The Witch and the Beast is the propierty of Kousuke Satake.


Wrestling


Guideau is not happy.

Trapped in a hotel room, there's only one thing she can do, the thing she hates most, and that's wait.

How she hates waiting. She's the 'punch first, ask questions later' type. Ashaf has told her to stay calm and wait for the thief to show up. Rushing in will only alert him, and the mission will go down the drain. And so Ashaf finds himself glued to the radio, trying to intercept the police signal. It's hot this time of year, so he has taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, only leaving his waistcoat on, which he's loosened a bit. He is smoking in the corner, leaning over a decorative table, absorbed in his work.

The radio chirps back and forth, irritating Guideau. With her heightened sense of hearing, sharpened since her unfortunate encounter with Angela, Guideau can barely tolerate the noise. The beast almost wishes she were back in the apartment, trapped with that chatterbox of a doll, listening to her never-ending chatter instead of this torture.

She let out a long breath, hoping Ashaf would get the hint. Guideau wasn't exactly the type to give hints -it's been already stated that she was the 'punch first' type- but sometimes a warning would precede a flare up of her short temper. The man did not seem to hear her, or perhaps he chose to ignore her. Guideau tried again to concentrate on her reading, a thick tome about heroes and such who had overcome a witch's curse. But alas, more static echoed through the double room, followed by the distant signals going back and forth from the speaker, and Guideau could stand it no longer.

"Turn that damn thing off, Ashaf!" she called out in vain.

She's sure he's doing it on purpose, just to annoy her. Ashaf instead lets out a low murmur of victory when he finally lands on the right signal, but his triumph is soon interrupted by his displeased partner.

"I told you to turn that off."

Guideau had crossed the room in two strides and was now standing right next to him.

Ashaf looked up from the radio, his expression unfazed by the threat looming over him. His eyes expressed that casual serenity, like a lake, still and of the deepest blue. That irritated her all the more.

"You know, Guideau, patience is a virtue," he remarked casually, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Guideau clenched her jaw. Not a good sign.

"And you know I have no patience for these shitty jobs, Ashaf," she retorted, her tone sharp and cutting, her voice rising. "I want to hunt witches, not look for petty thieves who abuse magic to commit crimes."

He chuckled softly, unfazed by her outburst or her clenched fists. She had broken his ribs the last time.

"But in life, we don't always get what we desire. And for now, we must patiently comply with the demands placed upon us, if we wish to have basic necessities such as clothing and sustenance."

He said all of that cassualy, in a single breath, but Guideau knew all too well that he was threatening her, using well thought words, sweet like honey. She huffed in frustration. She could feel the tension coiling within her, a restless energy begging to be released. The room feels smaller, suffocating almost, with tension crackling between them like electricity before a storm.

""Fuck your thief," Guideau snapped, slamming the book against his chest with a thud. "I'm going to bed."

She turned away, but Ashaf was quicker and grabbed her wrist.

"Our work isn't finished yet."

The smoke tickled her nose. Ashaf had that deadly serious look he used to exert authority, and Guideau was furious now. She turned sharply, fist clenched, but the mage grabbed her wrist in one swift motion, and Guideau could not break free. He must have been using magic to subdue her - he had done so before, preventing her from attacking Helga, for example - and Guideau knew that in this fragile form she would not be able to break free. What enraged her most was that blue stare and the cigarette that intoxicated her senses with its smoke and hung from his lips as if nothing were wrong.

"Let me go, you bastard," she demanded in vain.

"I'm afraid you'll break my ribs again when I let you go"

"You had it coming."

"Maybe you're right," his grip loosened and his gaze softened. "And I'm really sorry about what happened that day. I never thought you would meet her. If I'd known, I wouldn't have done it. I would never do anything to hurt or jeopardize you, Guideau."

Her anger began to subside. Ashaf took as a good sign and let go of her hands.

Guideau stood still for a second, then lunged at him, catching him off guard. They hit the floor together with a loud thud that echoed around the room. Ashaf's head landed first, hitting the table, knocking off the radio, which landed next to his face, leaving a gash on his left temple. The blow pressed a button that changed the station, and the music filled the room with a mix of rock and blues. Guideau wasted no time in making sure he was pinned down, using her weight, strength and thighs to hold him down. Her hands flew quickly to his, aiming to tie him tightly, but Ashaf was already familiar with her tactics and moved faster, securing hers instead. Magic immediately ran around her skin and Guideau knew he would not let her go this time. She could feel his long fingers tighten around her wrist, and the tickle of the magical bonds ran through her skin, preventing her from moving. They hadn't fought like this in years. Guideau thought that if she didn't try harder, she'd soon end up in a chair, bound by a binding spell like the one he'd used on her when they first met.

Soon, anticipating this scenario, she dug her knee mercilessly into Ashaf's right ribs, and he winced in pain. Guideau smiled in anticipation. She might yet win this match. They wrestled for control, Ashaf trying to get her hands away him and Guideau fighting to get free. What Guideau didn't realise in the confusion of the fight was that despite his firm grip, he wasn't hurting her, nor was he applying any further pressure. His defensive magic was sufficient. A few moments later, the beast managed to move her wrists enough to dig her nails into his skin, but that was all she could do. Unable to get her way, she let out a groan of frustration and threw her face into his, trying to bite him, or at least hit him on the head, but Ashaf deflected the attack, releasing her briefly to grab her by the shoulders, rolling on the floor to exchange positions, then securing her hands again. They hit the table again as they rolled, knocking a vase off. The vase shattered and Guideau barely had time to dodge the blow, but the water still hit her face, blinding her for half a second and soaking her hair. A few shards of ceramic flew over her clothes, and all of this only made her angrier. She cursed him, her complaints drown out by the music.

Now he was on top of her and there was nothing Guideau could do to win. She kicked at the air, then at the floor as she struggled to free herself, making a squeaky sound - rather annoying - as her heels scratched the wooden floor. With each kick, she pushed one of the armchairs that decorated the room forward until the armchair fell forward, toppling a coffee table in front of it. The glass table shattered with a loud crash that drowned out the music, and Ashaf feared they were drawing too much attention to themselves. Guideau wrestled, kicked and tried to push him away with all her might, or at least break free of his grip, but she couldn't get her hands on him. In the end, all she managed to do was pull her shirt out of her trousers, getting it all rolled up over her torso, exposing her back to the ceramic shards.

"What, are you going to tie me up now with one of your little parlour tricks?" she spat, glaring at him defiantly.

An unfamiliar emotion crossed the mage's eyes. Had she been more familiar with the human world, she would have discovered that there was pain behind his gaze.

He let out a deep sigh. He had lost his cigarette long ago.

"You should know that by now," he sighed. I don't want to hurt you.

There was something in his words that brought a kind of calm to her senses. An unfamiliar feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she realised that Ashaf had released her wrists. They lay there, looking at each other for a few long seconds, the background music suddenly forgotten in the back of her mind. Her heart was pounding, and as they lay there, their bodies tangled and breathless, she realised that she wasn't so angry with him anymore.

He had saved her more than once, even risking his own life. As long as she was in that small, fragile body, she was vulnerable to his magic. Even her strength was no match for the three-layered shield he was able to summon. He was far more capable than she could imagine, the recent battle to secure the forbidden instrument a testament to his abilities. With a snap of his fingers, he could do whatever he wanted. He could restrain her, or bind her. Guideau respected him, obeyed his orders, even on those rare occasions when she returned to her real body. This reaction - throwing him to the ground and attacking him - had been just another flare of her temper, similar to the time she had taken out her anger on him over Angela.

She slowly raised her hands to his shoulders and swallowed. Then, with a final push that was remarkably gentle for the circumstances, she pushed his chest up and slowly sat up, avoiding his gaze. Her chest rose and fell, regulating her breathing. Ashaf sat up on his knees, giving her room to move. Guideau brought her knees together and hugged them. She had nothing more to say, just wanted Ashaf to leave her alone, and hide from his piercing blue eyes.

Ashaf took a deep breath and sat down beside her, lighting another cigarette. He threw his head back and let out a long sigh. His dark locks had fallen loose during the fight, framing his face and giving him a different look that gave him a certain appeal. He also had a thin line of blood running down his temple where the radio had hit him. His vest was rumpled and his wrists now bore the marks of Guideau's fingernails. As for Guideau, she didn't look so different. Her pretty blonde hair was a mess, soaked with water, and her bangs stuck to her face. She had angry red marks on her wrists where Ashaf's fingers had pressed. Her white T-shirt was crumpled and pooled around her torso, clinging to her bra, and she had reddish marks on her back where the shards had pressed.

Ashaf studied the scene, taking in every detail of the chaos. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, letting out a long, slow exhale.

"Well, it seems we've caused quite the mess," he said dryly, managing a wry smile.

Guideau glanced at him, but said nothing. Ashaf bent down to retrieve the radio without further comment. He held the cigarette in one hand and fiddled with the buttons on the other until he found the station. Guideau watched him work in silence, sitting in the middle of the chaos. She couldn't help but notice the way his long, slender fingers skilfully manipulated the radio's dial. The distant, broken voices filled the silence that had fallen between them, and soon Ashaf found the signal, and a voice came from the loudspeaker with the news they had been waiting for. The thief seemed to have turned up.

The mage smiled softly and stood up, rather awkwardly, putting the radio back in its place.

"Well, it looks like we're finally going to get some action tonight, Guideau."

As the blonde stood up, Ashaf motioned for her to fix her clothes and hair. He grabbed his coat, put out his cigarette and headed for the door. They both walked out in silence, smoothing their clothes as best they could, Guideau's rumpled shirt hidden under a light coat. A maid coming from the opposite corridor with a trolley of cleaning supplies made eye contact with them, and immediately averted her gaze and hurried away. Ashaf watched her go, wondering what the strange reaction was about. They reached the lift promptly, Guideau taking long strides and reaching the doors before him.

It dawned on him as they reached the lift.

"Oh, that's why," he said to himself, putting his hand to his forehead and chuckling softly.

Guideau gave him a questioning look. He shook his head with a dismissive gesture. She wouldn't understand.


This chapter was inspired by a scene of the movie "Man from U.N.C.L.E" in which Gaby and Ilya wrestle in their hotel room. And well, I remembered that scene and had to write a fic for this fandom.