Chapter 7: Every Man Needs Themselves a Hobby


Levi waited for her answer in straight-faced, expectant silence, and that was how she computed that he was being serious with his demented suggestion. Nora forced her mouth shut—it must have dropped open somewhere around the word 'sparring'.

All right, this was not the time for rash, potentially lethal decisions. She needed to weigh her options. Try to suss out what the fuck she was supposed to do here, and what she actually wanted to do.

There might or might not be valuable information on the phone, but she'd hardly find out if she gave it up. She was two paces closer to the doorway than him; maybe it would be wise to do a runner. Like a chicken. A boring, pathetic chicken.

Levi hadn't missed the split second her eyes had flickered towards the exit. "Feel free to try and run home, but you won't like what's going to happen when I catch you."

Nora's face heated, her fingers itching to draw her stake. "Arrogant prick."

He might be right, but they wouldn't find out. They both knew she wasn't about to go anywhere.

"And here I thought we were buddies now," he deadpanned, denying her the satisfaction of a real reaction to her insult.

"I already have a buddy and sparring partner. She's even got a soul. You know, that pesky little thing that keeps us from wanting to do any actual harm in the process."

"Tsk." That one tiny sound he seemed so fond of conveyed just how little regard Levi had for this quintessential human trait—and consequently, Nora's life. His dagger-like eyes pinned her in place, glinting silver in the waning light. "And if Hange were the best fucking Watcher there is, it wouldn't matter. She isn't like the two of us."

"There is no 'the two of us'," Nora hissed without missing a beat, lips curling.

How dare he suggest they were remotely the same? Maybe she was nothing like Hange and most other humans, but she wasn't like him, either. His kind was the main reason that she was a freak, in the first place; all those millennia ago, the Slayer line had been created for the sole purpose of fighting vampires and other forces of evil.

Several undefinable almost-emotions ghosted across Levi's expression, which was still partly hidden by the superfluous face mask. None of it was nearly strong enough to rip through the surliness, anyway.

"C'mon. You know what I mean," he said eventually, giving Nora the impression he was choosing his words carefully. "When was the last time you got to spar with someone else who's got superhuman strength, the only thing at stake your goddamned pride?"

She directed her scowl at his feet, stewing. Itching. For blood, his blood, for a challenge, for some sodding release.

For being entirely herself while forgetting herself—the way slaying sometimes made her feel, if only briefly. Fighting him, even in a mock battle, was bound to have an effect like that; she'd seen what he could do, and her Slayer senses were practically begging for it each second she spent in his vicinity.

Moreover—loath as she was to admit it—Levi had a point. Hange was more an instructor-slash-glorified-punchbag than a real sparring partner, and Nora had to hold back constantly despite the heavy padding her Watcher wore during their training sessions. The real challenges she only got to tackle in a less than safe and controlled environment, and the very real danger of dying at any given moment didn't leave much room for experiments and mistakes.

Their gazes met again as Nora studied him. Occupied with her own enemies, she hadn't had a lot of time to watch, but she'd picked up on a few things.

His biggest strength was probably his insane speed. She suspected the bastard was indeed faster than her, so she'd have to watch out and do her utmost not to provide him with any openings. Also, he didn't seem to favour a side, utilising his right and left with equal proficiency; punches or kicks, it didn't matter.

Nora licked her lips, rolling her shoulders. His eyes caught every movement, briefly lingering on her mouth. "In here?" she asked, raising her brows at him. "Aren't you afraid you'll get dirt on your pretty clothes?"

Levi took off his mask, unhurried and demonstrative. "There are things worth getting dirty for," he said in a low, dark timbre. "Kicking your pretty ass is one of them." He threw the word back at her in a mockery of her accent.

If he was trying to provoke her into agreeing to this travesty, then it worked like a charm. Her blood was heating up, her muscles taut, mind running through a plethora of different opening attacks.

In terms of raw strength alone, Nora outclassed most vamps already. Except, perhaps, for a select few that were older than dirt. She didn't know how Levi performed in comparison, but raw strength alone wasn't what kept a Slayer alive, anyway. Combat-related skills aside, a Slayer needed to think outside the box.

Unfortunately, he'd proven to be more than capable of that, as well. They wouldn't be standing here otherwise.

Levi casually shoved broken chairs and battered books and trinkets out of the way with his boots, clearing some space for what was about to happen. Wordlessly, Nora lifted the toppled bookshelf with one hand, pushing the singed, solid wood back against the wall.

They'd started pacing in a slow circle, keeping their eyes glued to each other. She was predator and prey, he was prey and predator.

"You're not trying to kill me, right?" she asked lightly, just to make sure. Being responsible and all that rot.

One corner of his mouth twitched. "You tell me."

Nora focused on his oppressive presence. What she felt from him was still different than your average bloodlust and murderous intent, but it was convoluted and sinister. Something that should probably worry her, not pique her curiosity.

The least she could do was establish an important ground rule. "Show me your fangs and I'll show you my stake."

His eye roll told her duh. "We'll keep it nice and PG. No drawing blood."

"But what if you really deserve it?"

"Fuck around and find out."

"Ooh, another threat." She pressed her hand to her collarbones, eyes widening theatrically.

"Just a friendly warning." His steely gaze was anything but. It remained fastened on her as he shrugged off his coat and flung it over the back of the chair by the desk, revealing the black crew neck jumper he was wearing underneath. It wasn't snug, but fitted enough to stretch across his pecs and the set of his shoulders as he executed the mundane task with effortless, inherent grace.

Shit—as if she needed another reminder that the man could fight like a bloody beast. Doing this without her stake firmly in her grasp was a terrible idea. But she'd rather take her chances than back out now.

Nora forced her eyes back to his. "I don't think you'd recognise 'friendly' if it punched you in the face."

Levi threw a pointed, impeccably bored glance at his watch. "We doing this now or not, brat? I haven't got all night."

The bastard's increasingly familiar dismissiveness was far more infuriating than all his crude insults taken together. "You really think there's no way a flyweight like me could ever come out on top against you, right?" Nora's voice was icy, a stark contrast to the hot anger simmering in her gut.

People often took one look at her and saw nothing but a petite woman, even vampires who should know better. Tattooing the word 'Slayer' on her forehead wouldn't be warning enough for those dickheads, either; the only foolproof method was showing instead of telling. It added an extra layer of gratification to that first punch, never failing to wipe the patronising smirk off their stupid faces. It was a pity she couldn't—well, shouldn't—do that with humans, though.

"Don't put words in my mouth, brat," said Levi, giving her a thorough once-over as though he hadn't already been eyeing her like a cheetah a gazelle. "In fact, I think you have a better chance than most at… coming out on top."

Something about his tone made her cheeks burn. It was the last drop; Nora spurred into action, aiming her fist at the prick's face.

He sidestepped, tried to trip her with his foot. Nora jumped in the last possible instant, surprised she'd managed to dodge. The bastard really was quick as a snake.

Her prompt counterattack was thwarted; he caught her leg mid kick, and next thing she knew she was hurled across the room.

Nora broke her fall with both hands and a somersault later stood facing him again. She spat out a rogue wisp of hair, seething. "You—"

Levi closed the distance this time, coming at her in a dark blur of motion.

What followed was the most stressful unarmed combat Nora had ever experienced. They traded blow after blow, blocking and evading in turn. Everything vanished from her awareness other than her relentless opponent—his fists, the grim set of his jaw, the dull thuds to her forearms when she warded off his punches, their brutal force sending shockwaves through her body.

There was no space for pain. There was only invigorating fury and purpose.

His swift, aggressive style gradually forced her back. Just when she thought she recognised a pattern, he changed it up, keeping her mostly on the defensive, fending off all attacks that would have struck weak spots. Human or not, gut punches or kicks to the kneecap or hits in the groin hurt.

Levi took the split-second opening when she fell for one of his feints—and just like that, he had her by her throat.

Nora hit the wall with her back, hard. His tight grip around her neck pinned her in place, the threat very real, allowing only a minimal amount of room for her laboured breaths.

"Gotcha," he growled, sounding every bit like the vampire he was.

Her lips split into a vicious grin. Or perhaps she was just baring her teeth. "Maybe, but at what cost?"

He looked down—where she was pressing her right fist against the unmoving, seemingly empty cage of his chest. With his lack of body warmth, it was almost like hitting a stone wall.

The implication was clear. In a real battle, a stake would have been held in that hand. Piercing right through his literally cold and dead heart.

In contrast, her pulse was throbbing against the pads of his fingers, barely dampened by the tender skin of her neck in-between. It must be tantamount to an invitation to him, no matter what Levi thought of her smell.

"That hardly counts. Only one of us could crush the other in an instant." He seemed to be rushing the words, weirdly terse and breathless. Indeed, he was barely breathing; as soon as he finished talking, his chest fell utterly still again.

But his cool fingers twitched in threat, his thumb teasing across Nora's heated skin ever so slightly. A shudder ran down her spine, every last hair on her body standing on end.

Enough. This was getting unbearable. She wasn't one to seek out a ton of bodily contact under the best circumstances, and the prolonged touch of a vampire was anything but; one hand was clamped around her left forearm, the other still wrapped around her sodding bare neck. Even his legs were positioned in such a way as to easily restrain hers, lest she got any stupid ideas.

He was everywhere, all up in her space as he waited for her to admit defeat. He was close enough she would have felt his cold breath on her face if he weren't holding it, her taut nerves humming with his power and now his fucking thumb was moving again, ever so slightly against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Fine. I yield," she hissed, her muscles aching with tension. "Now get your corpse paws off me."

Levi's features hardened like stone.

Without warning, his hand snaked into her jacket—brushing her breast above the layers of clothing—and a mere second later, he had snatched the phone she'd found out of her inner pocket and was standing at a metre's distance from her.

"Wha—" Nora's mind had come to a screeching halt, reeling from the echo of this… what barely even qualified as a touch. "Y-you could have asked!" she spluttered.

He paid her no heed, swiping across the phone's display. "It needs a code to unlock. Of course."

Her arms folded protectively over her chest. It did not help. Short of setting them both on fire, only miles of distance between them would help. But first, she needed her loot back.

Casually, she said, "Nothing a little magic won't fix."

He looked up sharply. "Don't tell me you're a witch, on top of it all."

"Hardly, or I would've turned you into a ferret by now." Magic was fickle enough on its own, no matter how much inert talent one possessed—which was one thing Slayers weren't known for. "Hange can do smaller stuff like that."

"I know someone reliable and discreet." Levi pocketed the phone, directing his condescending frown at her half-raised arm. "You weren't seriously thinking I'm stupid enough to give it back to you?"

Fucking hell. She should just have tried to stake him. "But I—"

"I'll show you once I've had a look," he said, probably just because he was tired of arguing. His tone was sincere, though, if annoyed.

Then again, vampires tended to be excellent liars, and she saw no reason why he'd want to include her; the nest was history, already.

"Sure you will," Nora scoffed. "Can I get that in writing?"

A wry glint entered his eyes. "Guess you'll just have to trust me, brat."

#

She might've laughed if he hadn't been bloody throttling her just a minute ago.

Either way, they still needed to do a quick (and ultimately unsuccessful) sweep of the other, much tinier rooms of the cottage before finally going their separate ways, so Nora took it out on the clutter in that dusty shithole, tossing and kicking various trinkets every which way as she dutifully finished the task she'd originally come here for. Dozens of questions burnt on her tongue, but she was too stubborn and not naïve enough to voice any of them. She'd tried, and never got any real answers that went deeper than the obvious surface level. Levi Whatshisname, Master of Sarcastic Evasion.

Hence, she resorted to sulking, fantasising about killing him in a dozen different ways.

On her walk home, she did a moody rendition of Singin' in the Rain, which involved a stake instead of an umbrella, an abundance of violence instead of dancing, and Slayin' instead of the Singin'.

In other words, she dusted two vamps, and it was about as satisfying as drinking hot leaf juice in place of a good, strong cup of tea. After the evening she'd had, they seemed particularly slow and weak and predictable; as per usual, they wanted her dead, they wanted to feast on her blood, they wanted to make her suffer and whatnot, and they made those intentions known.

Them behaving exactly like they were supposed to only served to heighten her frustration, and, to cap it all, the hood of her jacket didn't prevent her hair from getting as soaked as the rest of her.

Trust him, my fucking arse, Nora thought, brooding in the darkness of her bedroom. The prick had a twisted sense of humour. She rolled to the side, pulling her blanket up to her chin, listening to Garlic's purrs behind her on the pillow.

What the hell was Levi thinking? What was his game? Why was he hunting other demons and not her?

Sod it. She wouldn't be able to fall asleep like this. Nora grabbed her phone from the bedside table and opened the messenger, scowling at that short four-letter name. She tapped it with more force than strictly necessary.

Who are you?

She'd meant to put the phone back, but he started typing an answer immediately. Nora stared at the screen, neither blinking nor breathing.

Just an undead guy who shares your hobby.

An indignant puff of air left her nose. The dots appeared on her screen again, adding another short string of useless words to his useless answer.

Every man needs themselves a hobby.

.

It's my sodding job, you berk.

.

I get paid sometimes, too.

A bounty hunter, then. Sometimes. He had hinted as much, back when she'd bagged that blond vamp. Whichever other reasons Levi had for doing what he did, Nora bet idealism wasn't one of them.

Even knowing it was futile, she texted back anyway.

Did someone pay you to be a royal pain in my arse, then?

.

That's where the hobby part comes in.

"Fucker," she mumbled, her thumbs already tapping away.

Yeah, right. Because you value my company so highly. Aren't hobbies supposed to be about enjoying yourself?

.

It's about doing what you want to do. Doesn't mean it'll always be enjoyable.

Why was she doing this to herself, wasting her precious time and energy on that dickhead and his sort-of-meaningful yet entirely unhelpful responses? He was always being laconic and so bloody vague, he probably didn't even need to lie much, not outright. Nora wanted to punch the mattress, but all she'd get for it would be stink eye from the cat.

Have you forgotten what you are? she asked him, because it honestly seemed like he needed the reminder. She didn't, though; not even cocooning herself in her blanket could dull the vivid memory of his cold, iron grip around her throat.

Levi was taking longer to reply, this time. The dots came and went, several times over. The possibility that he might be weighing his words, carefully considering what he'd say to her, struck her as almost absurd. He seemed so sure—cocksure—acted as though nothing and no one ever warranted a second thought, a flicker of uncertainty.

Oddly enough, she found her ruffled feathers somewhat smoothed by the time his text arrived.

There's instant gratification, and there's the big picture. Vampires who are too dense to see that won't be around for long.

Nora frowned. How did she fit into that picture, then? So far, everything indicated that she was the opposite of instant gratification. It appeared that, for the time being, she was more convenient to him as an irritating and reluctant ally rather than an enemy, and that was all there was to it. What would happen if—when—she became an obstacle in his path, she didn't need to ask. That was one thing he'd been less vague about, at least.

###

If he closed his eyes and focused, he could still feel the thrum of her pulse beneath his fingertips. Could feel the hot, silky soft skin. Could smell her.

Hell, she'd basically flooded the entire room with her goddamn scent. Obnoxious. Insufferable.

Levi wrinkled his nose. Maybe he should consider wearing the mask again next time he met her, and do that VapoRub trick, like humans in morgues. Not that he had that gross stuff lying around. Or any human medicine, for that matter.

Good thing he didn't strictly need to breathe unless he wanted to talk. Just an annoying force of habit.

After spending the better part of the early evening in the same room with her, his place seemed deafeningly quiet. At close quarters, the rain hadn't drowned out the incessant assault on his eardrums that was her heartbeat. It was hard to tune out when she was giving him frosty silence, or when it picked up a faster rhythm pretty much every damn time he said or did anything at all. It didn't matter what; she got pissed if he so much as looked at her funny. His mere existence was enough, of course; she was a Slayer, after all.

For both their sakes, he could only hope he wasn't around when she finally decided to act the part.

"Shit, who am I kidding," he grumbled, reclining in his armchair, massaging his temples.

Unless one of them left this town or got themselves killed elsewhere, this could only end one way—and he wouldn't want to miss it.

Even if it was a massive fucking waste.

Next to him on the armrest, his phone vibrated once again. He'd already snatched it up before it even stopped buzzing.

The only vampires I've ever heard of concerning themselves with the 'big picture' were all for bringing about the apocalypse, or world dominion, or eternal darkness or some such shite. It's all more or less the same. Please tell me you aren't that cheesy.

"Tsk." Had Levi thought she was genuinely worried about that, he would have been offended. Still, he refrained from sarcasm this once, just in case.

No. I don't see the appeal. Either of these sounds like a huge pain in the ass for nothing.

.

Can't decide if you're not THAT narcissistic, after all, or if you're just too lazy to go full-blown supervillain. You must be such a disappointment to all your vampire mates.

"Mouthy little brat," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching. And yet, considering the Slayer's general stance on those supposed 'mates' of his, Levi could almost discern something vaguely resembling a compliment hidden in that jab. If he squinted.

Go easy on my kind. It's not like jerking off in front of the mirror is an option.

When he hit send without a moment's hesitation, he expected scandalised silence in return, or maybe an outraged rebuke. Her answer, however, was prompt.

LOL

He blinked at the screen, but the three letters wouldn't disappear. Nor did she follow up with another text, anything to remind him of her deep-rooted dislike towards his kind as well as his person. Granted, he wasn't exactly born anytime close to the turn of the millennium, but the commonplace acronym was unambiguous under the given context.

Stranger things had happened to him in the past, for sure.

He just couldn't think of anything right now.


AN: Somehow, I ended up packing this one with various references/easter eggs.

Anyhow, I hope this chapter was at least half as much fun to read as I had writing it!