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UFC

Derrick Medlock was tired. After three long shifts in a row at the hospital (12 hours each), he was tired as anyone could be. After all, nurses were expected to be in a half dozen places at once most nights and were in a surprisingly thankless jobs sometimes. Definitely enough to burn anyone out. Yet, here he was, still heading to the gym after work instead of going home to sleep.


The nurse was tall, wiry, and on the skinny side. He topped out at 6'1 but had never really been the type to put on a lot of muscle. He had run cross country in High School and a bit during college and that had been the only sport he had ever really been a part of. He still ran frequently; putting in headphones and just running until he couldn't do it anymore was a way to clear his mind and become himself again after 72 hours of working, sleeping, eating, repeating nonstop.


The dark haired man pulled up to the gym in his crappy Honda, shielding his eyes as he climbed out. He was adorned in blue gym shorts and a white Alice in Chains tshirt. His dark hair was a bit of a mess (when work got stressful, a hand would absentmindedly run through it) and there was some stubble on his face, shaving having been neglected in favor of sleeping.


His earbuds were pushed into his ears, thumb scrolling through his Ipod for a moment as he headed in. It only took a moment before Pink Triangle by Weezer began to play.
 
"No! Stop working on the knockouts and go for an actual submission!" screamed Rhonda's coach.


Rhonda breathed heavily as a way to say okay. She did a single leg takedown on the trainer and was fightng for the arm bar in the next second. As soon as she felt the hand tap the mat, she stood up and spit out her mouth guard into the bucket next to the floor. "Let's hit the weights," she said stubbornly as she walked over to start determining the numbers for the day. She needed to work on power, not ways to get someone to quit the fight.
 
The dark haired man had been on the treadmill for twenty minutes and some change, lost in the repetitive activity, his weariness, and Weezer's best album playing in his ears. However, he was brought forth from the recesses of his mind as spotted movement from the peripheral of his vision. Normally, when he got off and came here, there was never that much activity.


He got off late enough to miss all the die hard lifters (who, naturally, made him look like a stick in comparison) yet he got there early enough to miss the casual crowd that usually flowed in during the late morning. There would typically be a few souls around but nothing worth noting. Honestly, he enjoyed the solitude.


Then, he saw her.


Ronda Rousey. The most dangerous woman on the planet.


Derrick certainly didn't look like the type that would be into UFC. With his stringy limbs and the glasses he sometimes wore, he definitely looked like he would know more about Batman (which, to be fair, he did) than Anderson Silva. Yet, his college roommate had been a die hard and had converted him into being a fan. And, like every other fight fan in the world, Derrick had a bit of a crush on the California arm bar queen.


He kept running as she crossed the room to the weights, digging into his pocket to withdraw his phone to text a friend. The nurse remained focused on what he was doing, trying not to be obvious that he was watching her.
 
"Jim, write this down! I'm doing a 150 first and building up to a 175," yelled Rhonda across the room. She put the weights on the end of the bar and secured them on. "30 reps." She took a deep breath and knocked them out, a little shaky on the last few. She readjusted the weights to add on the next 175. "20 reps."


"That's all you got?" mocked Jim, the trainer, when she was done.


"Come over here and I'll show you what I've got left!" Jim padded up and ran across the floor. Rhonda threw a left hook followed by two right jabs. Then she delivered a round house to the side of his head, sending him to the floor. She jmped on him and went straight to the armbar. As soon as she let him up, she put him into a standing guiatine. "Who's weak now!" she teased, releasng to let him get some air.
 
Derrick was quiet, watching the duo on the mat that he had seen on the side of the room a few times before. Was it set up specifically for Ronda? Did she use this place frequently? He wondered if he had been here the same time as her before. He watched as she worked her magic, throwing the larger man like he was nothing. She looked great, even better than she had against Alexis Davis.


The nurse kept running and waiting until he spotted her trainer move off, leaving her alone. Was he going to grab them some water or something? Derrick didn't know. But, it was a moment where she wasn't intensely training that he could pop over and say hi. He'd she was super nice to fans and she came off really cool in interviews.


Once she had busied herself with something and the coast was clear of her trainer, the dark haired man climbed from the treadmill and moved towards her. As he got close, he cleared his throat and spoke, "Ronda?"


He raised a hand in greeting, smiling, trying not to come off as nervous. Maybe this had been a bad idea.


"Just, uh, wanted to say that I'm a huge fan and you're looking awesome right now. Oh, and your were great in your last fight."
 
Rhonda turned around with a smile. "Thanks," she said happily, glad to be recognized. She was about to be done for the night, but she was always open to having a little fun with the fans. Jim would be packing up right now, so she was free to do what she wanted. "You up for a little match?"


Rhonda bent over and handed him a pair of gloves. "I insist. You'll need them more than me."
 
"Match....?"


Derrick was unsure about this proposition. He had never been in a fight before, much less one with a highly trained professional. Yet, before he knew it, he was pulling on the gloves. His eyes raised to the California blonde.


"I've never done this before. Just throwing that out there. I'm a nurse Usually I'm doing the healing, not the hitting."
 
Rhonda laughed. "Then let me teach you something. You should pick it up pretty quick. I'll teach you one of my favorite quick combinations. First throw just a straight punch. Right hand. Be sure to tilt your hand towards the first two knuckles so you don't break anything." She threw the punch quickly on the right side of his head.


"Then follow up with a left hook. Aim for the temple." She demonstrated, stopping just before she hit his head, laughing when he flinched.


"That should be pretty easy right? Come on. Shoot at me. And don't go easy," Rhonda said as she cracked her knuckles.
 
Derrick definitely jerked back as she mock right hooked at him, nearly tripping over his own two feet. He grabbed onto the gym equipment nearest to steady himself before righting himself, "Not graceful. Trip over IV lining constantly at work," he grumbled quickly.


The nurse did the combination once in the air to make sure he had it down as he eyed the champion. He raised his fist, surpressing a laugh as he shook his head, "I can't believe this is happening. Okay, ready? Not going easy."


Moving forward, he threw the punch towards her and quickly followed it with the left hook. He put some force behind it because he definitely didn't think the Rowdy one was going to let him hit her.
 
Rhonda blocked the hook and held both hands up for high fives. "Pretty good. You think you might like to learn a little something else before I have to hit the bed for the night?"


Rhonda already had it planned out what she would show him next. Her signiture submission. All the fans seemed to eat it up when they got to take a selfie of her about to crack their arms.
 
He wasn't fast enough or strong enough to get past her block but he definitely was grinning once he had finished. He slapped his hand into her own. The, tired and hungry from the long day's shift at work, was more than ready to turn in for the night. Yet, this was Ronda Rousey he was hanging out with. Derrick nodded at the surfer girl.


"Yeah, one more thing. As long as my arm stays intact," he shot back quickly.
 
"Okay," was all Rhonda said. She had him by the inside of one leg and the back in one second and on the floor on his back in the next. Rhonda grabbed his wrist and threw her legs onto his chest and raised up with her hips. She awaited one of her favorite things in the whole world, the tap.
 
Suddenly his world was inverted as the blonde threw him downwards. How had that happened so fast? He attempted to move but her strong hands had his wrist and were clutching it. In the next moment, her legs were thrown over him. Derrick was struggling as he suddenly felt the pain shooting through his arm. He began slapping on her thigh with his free hand, "I give Ronda. I give I give Igive! lemme go."


This was insane.
 
Rhonda released the skinny nurse and helped him up. "Thanks for the fun. I should probably let you get going though before I accidently hurt you some more," she said as she patted his shoulder.
 
Derrick laughed as he took her hand, getting pulled up by the UFC women's champion.


"Yeah, wouldn't want that. Thanks. It was fun," the skinny nurse replied, grabbing his glasses back from where he had deposited them. He started to step away before he turned back to her.


"I know you're probably on some sort of crazy diet and I'm totally nuts for asking this but do you want to go grab a drink sometime?"


The usually quite and reserved was surprised at his courage as he asked out the most dangerous woman on the planet.
 
Rhonda was taken back by his question. She was so preoccupied with constant training that barely anyone ever asked her out, or much less had the courage. She respected him for that.


"I would actually really like that. Give me a time and a place and I'll be there."
 
"...."


Had she just said yes? Had Ronda Rousey just said yes?


Should he be that shocked? She definitely intimidated him but, hell, they were the same age. She was only 27 or something. He was 28. Sure, she was a celebrity and a professional badass. This just blew his mind. The glasses were placed back on for quickly as he thought.


"Uh, Bar Louie over in midtown tomorrow? Like, 6 or so? We could hit the tail end of happy hour. They also have some killer good food."


Was this real?
 
"Great. I'll see you there," said Rhonda. She walked over to her bag and started to pack her stuff. Did I just say I would go on a date with a fan. Well, there's a first time for everything. Rhonda shrugged off the worrisome thoughts. No biggie. One date and this guy would probably have bragging rights for the century.
 

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