Chapter Text
“Hey, Jill,” Claire greets Jill through the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Jill scoffs at the pleasantry. “I’m checking out that gym you told me about the other day.”
She leans closer to get a better look through the window. There’s a sparring session going on in the main ring. A few people with jumping rope. Others are taking out their frustrations on the punching bags. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before at the academy, but the hours she gets in that gym are sprinkled in like needles in a haystack. Jill needs an opportunity to let loose.
“Oh, yeah? How does it look?” Claire asks in her signature chipper tone.
“Perfect.”
~*~
Jill called ahead yesterday to get an appointment with a trainer. Hand-to-hand isn’t her forte, and she wants to be able to hold her own, something especially necessary in her line of work. She can hit a moving target from a hundred feet, but she can hardly throw a punch.
“Carlos!” The nice Russian man, Mikhail, calls when she confirms her appointment. She follows his line of sight to a remarkably fit man unleashing hell on an Everlast. At the sound of his name, he hugs the bag, stopping its swinging, and looks toward them while his chest heaves and sweat drips down his face. His hair is almost long enough to cover his eyes, but not quite, and his skin is a pretty shade of tan. He smiles breathlessly and makes his way over to them, leaning against a support beam and crossing his arms over his chest. He eyes Jill curiously.
“This fine young lady has… eh… bought you for the hour,” Mikhail says. Jill’s ears immediately redden and she’s about to object when Carlos does it instead:
“I’m not a prostitute, Mr. Victor,” he says with a glint in his eyes and a half-smile warping his mouth.
“Ah!” The Russian laughs heartily. “I apologize.” He turns to Jill, who is still a bit flustered. “My English is still not the best. I can see you are quite embarrassed. I meant no insult.”
She tries for a smile. “It’s fine.”
“Well, let’s not waste any more time, uh...” Carlos trails off. He’s waiting for her to fill the silence.
“Jill,” she supplies.
“Jill,” he repeats, his eyes twinkling. “Follow me.”
She obliges him, and they walk over to an empty corner of the gym. There’s a bag hanging a few feet away from the wall, and a coil of jump-rope resting nearby on the floor.
“So. How much boxing experience do you have?”
“Um, next to none,” Jill says, feeling an inexplicable twinge of shame. She doesn’t like to be behind.
But instead of looking disappointed, Carlos simply smiles. “Always fun teaching a beginner. So, fundamentals. You left handed or right handed?”
So begins a journey through the basics of boxing. Jill learns how to jab with her left and cross with her right, as well as the proper footwork to go with both.
“Your punch won’t have that ‘oomph’ if you don’t move your feet correctly,” Carlos explains. She mimics his movement as she throws a cross, and the bag is pushed back a bit further than it was on her last attempt.
“Lookin’ better already,” Carlos muses. She smiles subtly.
Carlos decides at one point that she should learn how to avoid a punch. “Now, I’m going to try and punch you,” he warns. She instantly takes a cautionary step backward, and he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I said try. I just want to see what your instinct is when you see a set of knuckles coming your way. I’ll even do it super slow,” he assures. “I won’t hurt you.”
The last sentence is spoken with a softer tone. Jill drops her guard, looking hard into his deep brown eyes. She searches his gaze for… something. She doesn’t quite know what.
“You ready?” He asks. She nods. “Okay, here it comes.” He throws a punch as if moving through molasses, giving Jill plenty of time to react how she pleases. As his fist approaches her face, she leans back and away from it, but she leans a bit too far, losing balance and flailing.
Instead of hitting the floor hard, she is stopped by a broad arm catching her by the small of her back. She refocuses and realizes that Carlos is the one holding her up and looking down at her with that devilish smirk on his face. He’s way closer than he was a second ago.
“That’s why you don’t do that,” he jokes, and Jill straightens, distancing herself from him with a push at his shoulders. Her cheeks burn in embarrassment and she averts her gaze. “Here, let me show you. Now you try and punch me.”
Jill is quick to throw a jab right where his nose is – or was , because he weaves out of the way by tipping his head to the side and following it with his body. She makes contact with nothing but air. He looks at her from between his gloves that instinctually covered his face with barely-tempered awe.
“Good technique,” he praises, though haltingly. “Weaving lets you keep your balance and opens up the chance for a counterattack. Or, you can duck, but that’s kinda flashy, hard to pull off, and you only see it in the movies anyway.”
Jill nods.
“Quiet one, aren’t you?” He’s reaching out. Jill can see that. But the feeling of his gloved hand on her back is still scrambling her brain. It’s too intimate a touch for a boxing session.
“This is a boxing gym. I came here to box,” she deflects.
“‘Course." Carlos rolls his eyes. "Now let’s try this again. I’m going to try to punch you, just as slow as last time, and you’re gonna dodge out of the way.”
She nods to indicate that she’s ready, putting up her fists like they’re sparring. Carlos throws another punch with his right, and she leans to the left, out of the way. She sees what he meant when he said the move opens a lane for a counterattack, with his bearded jaw exposed and nearly asking to get socked.
She holds back.
“Nice,” Carlos says. He looks off to a point in the distance, and Jill follows his gaze, to a clock. “I think our time’s up.”
“It’s been an hour already?” She asks, trying not to sound so incredulous (disappointed).
Carlos picks up on it anyway. “Well, if you wanna train with me again, you can always schedule another session.”
Jill looks at him then, her gloved hands falling to her sides, then quickly crossing over her chest. To Carlos’s credit, his gaze never shifts from her face. She tilts her head, trying to get a deeper read on him. He’s kind of a jerk, but she wouldn’t learn anything if he wasn’t. She doesn’t like being coddled, and he certainly isn’t guilty of that.
When he caught her without hesitation, and looked into her eyes, she was barraged with a plethora of emotions she hadn’t felt before. She hadn’t had time for relationships with how hard she pushed herself in school and at the academy, but that look that he gave her is one that she sees in the eyes of her fellow trainee Leon whenever his girlfriend Ada picks him up from class.
But Carlos is a good teacher, and to Jill, that’s what matters above all else.
“I think I will,” she says.