Adrenaline

“What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone,” Toretto grumbled, he feebly attempted to escape the arm that encircled his chest. He wasn’t able to shake Blair while they headed up the stairs, nor down the hallway, not even as she opened the door to her rooms - at that point he began to sway from side to side because his nose had yet to clot. Blair sighed as she led the giant to the familiar couch and allowed Toretto fall into the lush cushions on his own as she retrieved another ice pack.

“I feel like we’ve done this before,” She murmured, adding ice cubes to a zip lock container, grabbing a dishtowel as she strutted over to the dispatched giant. “I’m really sorry about that,” Blair offered the ice and a Corona simultaneously.

“A woman after my own heart,” Toretto quipped, taking both from her. He iced his face as she sat on the coffee table, pulling at his left boot. “Hey hey hey, what the fuck are you doing?” He yanked his foot away; Blair chased it and took it back onto her lap as she delicately unlaced his shoe.

“I have to see what kind of damage I’ve done,” When Toretto finally nodded in agreement, wondering how she could hurt him any more, Blair tore the work boot off his foot, evincing a wince. “Whoops, sorry,” However, there was no sorrow in the broad grin on her face.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” He sounded pained, which wiped the smile right off Blair’s face - it seemed to slide right over to Toretto’s hairless mug, and he grinned broadly at her crestfallen look. “I’m alright, really. I don’t think a 90-pound girl could do that much damage.”

“You’d be surprised,” Blair murmured as she glared down at Toretto’s bare foot, which purpled rapidly in her lap. “Uck,” She quickly put an icepack over his enormous foot and set it on a throw pillow for more cushion before moving herself to the couch beside him, swaying like a cobra in front of him to see his bloodied and broken nose. Toretto sighed, removing the ice - he figured he’d rather cooperate than have a sideways nose on his face forever.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty good one. I’ve got to get that straightened out, and probably packed too,” The muscular man’s eyes widened at her proposition, he looked about ready to wet himself. Blair chuckled at his antics, and moved her hands to his face. “This is going to hurt dear. I’ll have you count to five very slowly,” Toretto grasped Blair’s right wrist firmly - the hand she used to hold his chin up against the downward pressure of her left hand.

“One.” He grunted as she began the excruciating downward pull to straighten his nose. Toretto’s enormous paw clasped tightly around Blair’s thin forearm, clamping down with unprecedented force. Blair gasped, but continued pulling until Toretto got to “FIVE!” With a mighty shove, Toretto sent Blair flying, onto the floor beside the coffee table where she lay for a moment and wondered if she might be seriously injured.

“Good lord Toretto, what was the meaning of that?” She asked as she propped herself up on her elbows. This time it was he who offered her a hand and lifted her from the ground.

“Who the fuck are you?” Toretto asked yet again, helping Blair wobble her way to the couch. She felt a little lightheaded and spindly-legged from her brief flight, and she sat for a moment with a hand draped lightly across her forehead before answering.

“I’m the woman that roughed you up and then fixed you up. I’m the woman who will - eventually - get you an automobile. I’m your ticket in here,” She looked up at him. Brian and Mia had already found their place among the Bratva; Toretto however was still holding on to his old ways, he hoped he would be able to come back as the king of the scene. Blair got to her feet and tottered over to the bar on her high black heels; she retrieved another tumbler and filled it similarly as she had before, the glass was nearly three-quarters of the way full of vodka before she added her olive juice and two carefully selected ice cubes.

Toretto wondered if she had a maid - and also if she was an alcoholic, he had observed the little redhead slam her half a glass of vodka back as if it were nothing and fill the glass once more before she returned to sit beside him on the couch.

“I’m Blair,” She smiled lightly; she balanced the cup on her knee as she pulled her long red curls out of her face into a ponytail. Toretto thought he could see the faint outline of a tattoo through her nearly opaque blouse, but looked away before she could reprimand him for being perverted. “And if you don’t mind my asking, who the fuck are you?” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t asked it of her several hundred times in the four days he had been in her life.

“I’m your worst nightmare,” Toretto quipped, watching the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughed. A woman who could hold her own (he wasn’t about to admit his beating) was difficult to come by, like a high-end supercar Blair was an unprecedented treasure in the world of racing. Sure, there were plenty of bimbos, but none could match his Letty - even though Blair walked down the same path the little Latina woman had for Toretto.

“I’ve had worse,” Blair chuckled as she sipped her drink and regarded the bald man with eyes which danced and laughed. It wasn’t a secret that Blair was a sucker for the well-muscled type, especially those who would dress up nicely. But she hadn’t yet gotten a grasp on Toretto, and that made him dangerous to her.

“But you’ve never met better,” He laughed as he threw his head back with the depth and volume of the noise. Blair shivered before setting down her glass.

“So tell me Toretto, what do you plan to do with your life here?” She crossed her legs and leaned back into the couch, surveying him in her sharp peripheral vision. She didn’t notice anything she hadn’t the first time they met, just his lack of tattoos and the usual bodily decoration that was common on the men around the compound.

“I’m just here to get away from the government. Oh, and cars. I want to race cars.” Blair smiled wryly at his little jab. “Mommy please let me have one, please?” Toretto had a tired humor at this point, leaning against the back of Blair Hundley’s couch with an ice pack on his face and a damp cloth over his straightened nose.

“In two days my shipment comes in, I’ll have to oversee it’s… delivery, and then set the boys to work on my specific modifications. In three days you can have your car, darling.” Toretto sat bolt upright, looking at her with one eye swelled almost shut - he had the expression of a happy dog that had just pleased his master. Blair knew he was more of a wolf who was about to eat her whole.

“Really? And what do you have coming in? What kind of ‘mods?’” Blair sighed. She was concerned by Toretto’s genuine interest; she was used to working alone.

“It doesn’t guarantee you’ll be able to race for a while, but it’s a car,” She filibustered as she climbed to her feet to carry the empty glass to the bar. “Corona?” Toretto shook his head, angry now at how easily she ignored his questions. “Well, if you didn’t look so terrible I’d suggest a night on the town tonight, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t think any of the clubs would let you in, even in Tver.” Toretto glared at her, as if trying to get answers with his eyes.

“That’s fine by me, maybe if we stay here I can figure out who the fuck you really are.” He watched Blair’s eyes flash angrily over to him from what she was doing with her vodka. “Let’s take these cars, for example. Why can’t I just go ask someone else for a car?” Blair smashed the cap back on the bottle of Finlandia and shoved it into the freezer with vehemence.

“If you’d like a piece of shit,” She tipped back her glass and drained half of it before she answered. “Be my guest. But leave my apartment.” She drank the rest of her vodka; he noticed her hands shook. Toretto raised an eyebrow at her blatant rage, watching her hand shake as she refilled the glass. Again.

“Honey you’re going to have to slow down on the drinking there.”

“Who says?” Blair shot back, stumbling back over to the couch and plopping down with the quarter-full glass in her hand. Toretto reached to take it from her, but the semi-drunken redhead was still faster than he was and managed to drink the rest. Blair handed Toretto an empty glass as she giggled with satisfaction.

“Who the fuck are you?” Blair rolled her eyes at the question, but to Toretto’s enormous satisfaction and relief, she finally answered the question he had been asking her for four days.

“I’m the queen of the scene, and you’d best not forget it.” She threw her head back on the couch and giggled, inwardly surprised at how much vodka she had managed to consume in such a short amount of time. Reflecting on the effects of hard liquor on people, Toretto sat up, leaving his ice pack and washcloth on the counter while searching for a water bottle or something for the incapacitated woman. A hand on his shoulder both startled and confused the muscle-bound driver, almost as much as the head that collided gently with the middle of his back. Blair leaned against Toretto, her arms wrapped around his middle and her head between his shoulder blades.

“What are you doing there, young lady?”

“Not a young lady,” She muttered in reply, allowing him to turn around in her loose grasp. Toretto smoothed back Blair’s flaming red hair, he cupped her chin in his large hand.

“You need to go to sleep.” But her long black lashes touched her creamy white cheeks, telling Toretto she already had. He carried her to his bed - he reveled at how light she was, and what a lightweight she was - and pulled off her shoes and covered her small frame with her sheets before he took her key to lock the door behind him.

Strange motherfucking day.