Chapter Text
Rey’s been going to Resistance Gym for over two years now, and she likes to think her routine is pretty well-established.
Today is like any other; she arrives at the gym at three pm sharp, after her classes are finished and she’s had a chance to stop home for her gear and post-workout protein shake mix. She changes with military-like efficiency in the women’s locker room, donning dark grey leggings and a non-descript flowy white tank, slipping her phone into her armband, her headphones into her ears, and hitting shuffle on her workout playlist as she walks into the weightlifting area of the gym facility.
The place is pretty standard, as far as gyms go. One corner of the room (her favorite corner, really) houses the free weight equipment, a few benches and racks of free weights resting on a worn blue vinyl mat. Another part of the room boasts a wide variety of weight machines, which work well but clearly have seen better days, spots of rust poking out from chipped white paint in some places. One wall is dominated by a line of cardio equipment, treadmills and ellipticals and bikes lined up precisely. There aren’t any fancy machines with built-in TV screens, and there’s usually one or two pieces of equipment with an out of order sign at any given time. The place isn’t fancy, but it gets the job done. The fees are minimal compared to some of the gyms Rey had looked at when she moved to town for college, and it has the added advantage of being on the bus route that goes directly to her apartment. Rey loves the place despite its flaws, really, and it’s become her second home. She breathes in the familiar scent of sweat, vinyl, and disinfectant spray, her body already starting to thrum with the anticipation of the coming endorphin rush as a bass-heavy Crystal Castles song plays through her earbuds.
She stops dead in her tracks when she sees him, using her free weight set and her bench. The ones she uses every single day, at the exact same time, and although they may not really belong to her, there’s some sort of unspoken agreement between herself and the other patrons of the gym that the two square feet of worn vinyl mat is Rey’s kingdom from 3:05 to 3:25pm.
Not about to let this jerk-off ruin her workout, she takes the only other available bench (which, to make things worse, is the one next to him ) and grabs two thirty five pound dumbbells from the rack to start her first set of chest flyes. She turns up the volume on her phone to drown out the grunts of the tall man next to her as well as the heavy metal music leaking from his headphones.
When she gets up to return the weights to the rack after her sets are completed, she gets a better look at the usurper. He’s wearing all black, and she barely resists rolling her eyes at his monochromatic outfit - unremarkable baggy black sweatpants with an equally unremarkable black t-shirt that’s neither tight nor loose, even his headphones are black, for fuck’s sake. Of course he’s the kind of guy who wears over-ear Beats to the gym like he fancies himself to be in some sort of recording studio and not in a gym that’s honestly seen better days and then proceeds blast some sort of nondescript distorted guitar noise like everyone else wants to listen to that , too. His (again, black, she’s sensing a theme here) hair is long, pulled back from his face with an elastic headband. Rey grudgingly admits to herself that he is nice to look at; he’s well-built, the fact apparent despite his loose clothing, and his features are sharp and angular in a way that makes him somehow more interesting to look at despite their slightly exaggerated scale.
Rey hurries back to her bench before he can catch her looking (and it is just looking , definitely not staring , thank you very much) and sets up the self-spotting bar so she can do squats.
She finishes the rest of her weight routine in the usual fashion, the dark haired man leaving a few minutes before she finishes. She had half expects him to be the kind of grade-A dickhead that doesn’t wipe down the equipment after getting his gross sweat all over it, but she’s pleasantly surprised when he cleans the bench and weights almost meticulously, the cloying smell of disinfectant nearly making her lightheaded. He does, however, leave the rag he used to wipe everything down hanging off the end of the bar, and not all the weights he used had been put away. It’s all too typical, really, for someone like him to walk in here like he owns the place and leave messes for other people to pick up. She sighs and shakes her head, but reracks his weights and tosses the damp rag into the laundry bin anyway after she finishes her own clean up routine.
He’s on one of the treadmills when she finally makes her way downstairs to the room with the heavy bags for her cardio workout. She tries not to look his way as she walks out, she really does, but they lock eyes as she strides past the row of exercise machines, his dark eyes boring into hers with an unexpected intensity that makes something low in her stomach twist and bloom with heat.
It’s not really fair to the heavy bag, which didn’t do anything wrong, but she can’t help but take out her confusing mix of emotions on the poor thing that afternoon anyway.
The next day, she arrives in the weightroom and sighs in relief when she sees her usual spot to be distinctly free of tall, long-haired men. Most of said relief disappears when she sees who’s on the bench next to hers, doing bicep curls and again wearing all-black. This time, it’s a loose tank and sweats, and Rey resolutely does not let her eyes linger on his (rather impressive) bared arms and shoulders. She reaches to turn up the volume on her phone, needing the heavy bass to distract her from the man working out next to her so she can focus on today’s set of deadlifts.
She’s hauling the weights over to her section of mat when the dark haired man steps in front of her, lips moving even though Rey can’t hear a thing over the Diplo song thumping in her earbuds. She reaches up to pluck one out of her ear, then, figuring it’s the polite thing to do at the very least.
“Sorry. What were you saying?” she swings the twenty five pound weight up to her chest, gripping it with both arms crossed over the large black disk.
“I was asking if you needed a spotter for your lifts. It looks like a pretty significant amount of weight and I’ve seen my share of weightlifting injuries. They’re not pretty,” his voice is surprisingly deep, and Rey is almost distracted enough by the low timbre and the mesmerizing sight of his lips moving to not realize what he’s saying.
He’s probably just trying to be considerate, but Rey’s had enough shit from enough people (men especially) when it comes to what she can or can’t do at the gym and in her life in general. She doesn’t really want to snap at him, truly, but it had been a rough day and she has trouble not being blunt on even the best of days.
“I don’t need anything from you, thanks, and I’ll have you know that this is my off-day and I’d usually be lifting heavier. I’ve been doing this for years without a spotter and been just fine .” She’s aware of how her words must had sounded after they leave her mouth but she’s still a bit surprised when she sees his expression harden as he picks his weights back up to start another set of curls.
“Sorry I asked, then,” he’s not even looking at her when he says it, and the words are flat and nearly emotionless. She shrugs as she finishes carrying the weights to her mat, putting the weights on the bar and beginning her first set of deadlifts, losing herself in the burn of her muscles and the technique of the lift.
She tries to focus on her workout as much as possible, but he still nags at the back of her mind no matter how many reps she does. Rey can’t help but wonder if she’ll be seeing more of this man who can’t seem to decide if he’s a goth or a bodybuilder; but even more confusing is trying to decipher is which way she wants it to be.
On Fridays she always participates in the gym’s kickboxing class. It’s gotten to the point where she could probably be the instructor, really; it’s a nice change from her regular workout and she enjoys the camaraderie of exercising with a group every once in awhile. It’s also a great de-stresser after a hectic week of lectures, labs, and exams like this one had been.
The class is due to start in two minutes, and Rey’s giving her shoelaces one last tightening and pushing another bobby pin into her hair when he walks into the mirrored room. Her heart sinks as something flutters in her stomach, her own body even confused about how to react to the man she’s been seeing with an alarming regularity the past few days. This class is supposed to be something fun for her, though, and she’s determined not to let him being here ruin it for her. Anyway, he might actually make the class more entertaining given that most men who attempt the kickboxing moves for the first time (especially the tall and lanky ones) make a fool of themselves more than anything. Rey has no moral issues with getting a good laugh out of it if he makes an idiot of himself during class.
Midway through the hour-long session, though, Rey realizes that she is not in fact going to get any laughs at all out of the tall man’s performance. He’s postioned in the front row, like she is, only on the other side of the room; she can see him clearly in the mirrored wall in front of them, and he’s nailing every move, not missing a step or exhibiting anything but perfect form. She can’t decide if she should be disappointed or impressed, and eventually just settled on being angry that he was here in her class.
After the kickboxing class has wrapped up, the participants filtering out of the room as a new group floods in to move the bikes out for spin class, Rey walks to grab a towel and wipe the sweat off her face and neck. Her hair had fallen out of each of the three buns she had put it in before class, which was typical. She really had to figure out some kind of hairstyle that would actually stay put through all the jumping and moving that this class involved. Rey’s squirting water into her mouth from her bottle when she turns around at the approach of someone behind her, expecting the instructor or perhaps one of the regulars who she sometimes chats with after class.
When she turns, though, she has to crane her neck up to look in the face of the raven-haired man. Her smile falters, and she can’t help but blurt -
“Are you fucking following me or something?” Her arms automatically cross over her chest defensively, because this man has tainted her workouts for the past three days and she is not having it .
“Following you? Why would you think --”
“Because I’ve never seen you in my life and then all the sudden you’re at the gym at the same time and place as me three days in a row.” Her gaze dares him to deny it.
“I’ve been going to this gym for six months now. My daily schedule recently changed so I’m coming here at a different time. I’ve been doing kickboxing class for four months, just during the six o’clock session. I don't know why I have to justify myself to you, and I honestly don’t care enough to be following you. This isn’t your gym and you don’t get to decide who works out here, or when or where.” The man’s voice is quiet, but intense, and the complete plausibility and sense behind his argument takes the wind from her sails. She fights back a blush, realizing that she was being embarrassingly immature about the whole thing, which in turn only pisses her off more.
“Whatever. I don’t really want to have this discussion with you,” She shrugs, looking away and desperately desiring to be somewhere, anywhere , else right now. She hadn’t really planned on a verbal confrontation at the back of a spin class, and after the week she had had it was really the last thing she needed right now.
“Likewise,” he responds quickly, bending down to grab his gym bag (which Rey is a bit surprised to see is in fact dark red, and not black as she might have expected) “but you better get over the fact that I will be here at the same time as you, probably every day, and I’d prefer not to have my motives questioned by some uppity little undergrad who thinks she somehow dictates everyone’s schedules around here.” He’s turning to leave, miniature rant apparently over, when something odd crosses his face.
He sticks one (absurdly large, really) hand out to her, raising an eyebrow as if in challenge. She takes the proffered hand, her grip iron-tight. “Kylo,” he says, “I’m not sure if I can say it’s nice to meet you, but --”
“Rey.” she bites out, cutting him off. If he’s going to try and act all high and mighty now, she’s about 3000% done with him and his shit and wants nothing more than to get out of this damn mirrored room where she can’t be distracted by the reflection of his (admittedly phenomenal) ass from nearly every angle. She pulls her small hand out of his grip, slinging her own bag over her shoulder and walking past him and out the door.
As she’s riding the bus back to her apartment, she turns up her music loud enough to almost hurt in an attempt to try and forget the unmistakable spark that had traveled between them when their skin met. She didn’t have the time or the energy for this kind of thing with a guy, really, dancing around animosity and attraction - and what the fuck kind of name is Kylo , anyway?
“It sounds to me like you guys would have some pretty awesome hatesex,” Poe says conversationally, cutting off Rey’s rant about the tall man from the gym and prompting a loud exclamation from Rey and Finn both.
The three of them, two college roommates and Finn’s older boyfriend, are spending their Friday night as usual, curled up on the shitty couch they had rescued from a curb with some generic romcom droning in the background.
“What? Is it really that unreasonable? He's very good looking - you've admitted that yourself, Rey - and you clearly have some sort of attraction between the two of you. Plus you kind of despise each other, so all the prereqs for angry boning are present and accounted for.” Finn snorts with laughter, conceding that Poe does have a point.
“I don't know anything about the guy other than he works out a lot, listens to awful metal music, wears all black, and has a dumb name. He could be a serial killer or have an STD or be married or gay or celibate, for all I know.” Rey shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she speaks, pulling her worn fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Besides, I don't have time for something like that with finals coming up next month anyway.” She glares at her best friend, daring him to try and contradict her on this.
Finn raises an eyebrow at her, then, throwing a piece of popcorn at her nose. “You don't have time for casual sex but you do have time for an hour and a half at the gym every day?”
“Exactly,” Poe adds, “Maybe it's time you changed up your exercise routine a bit,” the older man waggles his eyebrows suggestively and accompanies the comment with a crude gesture, leaving no doubts at all to what kind of exercise he’s referencing.
Rey rolls her eyes at Poe as Finn lets out another guffaw. It still amazes her that despite being almost ten years her and Finn’s senior, Poe still manages to act the least mature of the three most of the time.
She doesn't really want to admit it to her friends yet, but they make a good point. She’s not really so crunched for time that she couldn't fit in some more socialization, and it wasn't like she was going to pursue a relationship with the man; it just had always been a convenient excuse to say she was too busy to get involved with anyone. Kylo is mysterious, has a very nice body, and Rey could probably use the stress relief that a purely physical relationship would bring.
Rey wasn't sure exactly how she'd move her interactions with the man at the gym from somewhat hostile indifference to casual sex, but she isn't a rush to start anything and the chase should at least make her gym visits a bit more interesting, to say the least.
The three turn back to the movie, conversation shifting to when Poe will be done with his leave from the Air Force and what Rey and Finn plan to do over their post-finals break. She'll ask them for some advice on how to seduce Kylo later, but for now she's content to let her mind blur with the movie and the sounds of her friends’ raucous laughter around her.
She doesn’t see Kylo at the gym over the weekend - Rey sticks to her regular time even on Saturdays and Sundays when she could really come any time she wanted; she knows a lot of people prefer to get their workout done with in the mornings or even skip the weekend in order to make time for other leisure activities.
That isn’t an option, in Rey’s mind. It’s not like she doesn’t get invitations to social events, she certainly gets asked to spend the afternoon playing frisbee golf on the campus mall with her engineering buddies or marathoning Orange is the New Black with a few of her friends from welding class. She accepts those invitations as much as possible, schedules things around her gym time, and for the most part her friends understand. Working out is a complex thing for Rey, is about so much more than fitness or staying in shape.
It had started out when she was fourteen years old, in yet another foster home with yet another family that she couldn’t seem to get along with. The older couple had one child, a high school senior who enjoyed football, violent video games, and beating up his younger foster sister.
Rey had started going to the middle school’s open gym and weight room program after school initially as an attempt to be at “home” as little as possible; she didn’t want the commitment of team sports and chess club just didn’t sound appealing. Lifting weights, playing basketball, and running also served as ways to take her mind off of her problems at home and allowed her to channel the anger she felt at her life and the foster care system into something less destructive than drugs or alcohol, which she knew some of her classmates turned to in situations similar to hers.
Her 8th grade PE teacher, who told all her students to just call her “Maz”, had introduced Rey to kickboxing and weightlifting. The slight, middle-aged woman was the most physically fit person Rey had ever met, and Maz opened Rey’s eyes to how she could use her body as a weapon, as a tool; hone muscles and balance and technique to use on a heavy bag or on another person if she needed to defend herself.
Soon her older foster brother realized she wasn’t such an easy target after all, and Rey was relocated to live with a new foster family after her defensive maneuvers left the football-playing senior with two black eyes and a broken nose.
No matter what kind of home she ended up in, good or bad, Rey kept up her routine of going to the gym to lose herself in the push and strain of her muscles. She went every day, unless she was away from town or had another obligation, in which case she would do what she could from wherever she was. She didn’t let it interfere with school, or with friends, didn’t control her diet strictly or worry about her weight. Working out was almost more for the benefit of her mental health than it was for her physical health, truly.
Being strong physically made Rey feel more resilient mentally, gave her confidence that she couldn’t be pushed around just because she had been made with a body that was small and female. Her gym routine was something she could control, a way she could create challenges for herself that felt more safe than the challenge of adjusting to yet another set of foster parents, or making friends at a new school where no one knew her name.
That was why, when she was asked how she could possibly care so much about working out, she got a little defensive; why it hurt her when people claimed she was “obsessed” or had some sort of a disorder because she craved exercise so badly. And it was why, for Rey, there was no such thing as a day off.
Monday is a good day for Rey. She wakes up feeling recharged from the weekend, has a great hair day, gets one of her labs back with an A grade, and Finn treats her to a hazelnut blended mocha at the campus coffee shop. She’s practically bouncing when she walks into the gym lobby, setting her phone to shuffle Grimes’ newest album for her workout, the upbeat music only further lifting her mood.
It’s just her luck, then, that she walks in to the weight room and sees Kylo at her bench. She thought he had maybe taken the hint after the first day, but then again it wasn’t like they had ever had a conversation about how and why exactly it was her area at this time of the day, so he probably couldn’t be expected to know it would be upsetting to her if he was using that particular area of the gym.
In addition to being a tool just for existing in the space she’d like to occupy, though, he’s also wearing one of those damn altitude training masks, the black neoprene covering his nose and mouth. His long hair hangs loosely, sweaty strands falling in his face as he completes a set of squats with what Rey would reluctantly conceed was an impressive amount of weight.
Rey was having a great day, dammit, and it almost makes it worse that he had messed it up because it had been so perfect otherwise. She needs to make it very clear to him how it’s going to work between them if he plans to be here at the same time as she is on a daily basis.
She strides up to him, arms already crossed over her chest even though she tries to keep her voice neutral. “Did it not occur to you that there might be a reason why this spot is always open when you get here?”
Kylo turns to look at her, continuing with his squats and not answering for a few heartbeats. Rey opens her mouth to repeat the question when he responds, voice sounding muffled and strange through the apparatus on his face. “No, but I’m assuming that you’re going to tell me what that reason is, correct?”
“It’s because this is my spot from five after three to twenty five after three.”
“Is that so? I don’t see your name on it anywhere,” and Rey can’t help but let out a little snort at that - what is this, grade school? - but predictably it only makes the man’s tone sharper as he grits his teeth and continues, “ -- I thought we had this discussion on Friday, about how you don’t get to make the rules here about what other people do, or when they do it, or where they do it.” Kylo’s paused in his squats, set apparently complete. He returns the self-spotting bar to the top-most position and steps out from under it, crowding up into Rey’s space, towering almost a full head above her height. He crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring her posture, and she can feel the body heat emanating off of the man with how close they are standing. Her traitorous body can’t help but respond, pulse quickening and a rush of heat flooding low in her belly.
The dark-haired man gives her a blatantly obvious once-over, then, eyes traveling up and down Rey’s body. She flushes in response and gives him similar treatment, her own gaze lingering on his chest and biceps before flicking back up to meet his stare. Rey’s thoughts derail completely at his sudden proximity and the intensity of their gaze (what Poe would definitely call eyefucking ), and the only thing she can think to say to Kylo is, “that mask looks stupid. You do know those things don’t really work, right?”
He lets out what can only be described as growl, reaching up to pull the straps from behind his ears and removing the mask from his face. There’s still marks on his cheeks and jaw from where the stretchy material had pressed into his skin, and Rey’s fingers itch to rub at them roughly with her thumbs. “ Better? Why the fuck does the damn spot matter so much to you, anyway? You can’t work out at the next bench over? And really, why on earth do you give a shit how I train?”
“It’s a habit, alright, and everyone else who’s a regular here respects that I like that spot; it’s a good distance from the weight rack and the drinking fountain, and the sun doesn’t come in through the window and glare in my eyes when I’m doing lifts!” Rey feels a little ridiculous practically shouting at the man, especially over something that is seeming increasingly petty the more she argues about it. She can tell a couple of the other gym-goers have stopped and are looking at them now and her face burns with anger and embarrassment in nearly equal measure.
“And the mask ? Why did you feel the need to fucking call me out on it?” Rey’s eyes flick down to his lips as he speaks, and he follows her gaze, apparently getting the answer he needs.
Kylo manages to somehow get even closer to Rey without actually touching her, his voice now dropped into an intense murmur, and he bites out, “Your place or mine?”
Rey’s dumbstruck for a moment, and she wonders if she misheard him. He starts again, apparently thinking she hadn’t heard, this time through blatantly grit teeth.
“I said, your place, or --”
“Yours,” Rey answers quickly, her voice lowered. She’d made up her mind three days ago to be open to a physical relationship with this man, but she honestly hadn’t expected it would happen this quickly or this easily. She’s always been a practical girl though, one to take any advantage she can get without questioning it, so she isn’t going to make an exception now. “I’m not sure if my roommate will be home or not. Meet in five out front.”
She grabs her water bottle and stalks out of the weight room, for once leaving the gym without completing a workout. Taking the steps two at a time, she reaches the lower level changing rooms and grabs her backpack out of her locker, shooting off a quick text to Finn - you’ll never believe who’s place I’m going to right now . Rey double checks her hair in the mirror, deciding to remove the triple bun style and let it hang loosely around her face, but not bothering to change out of her workout gear. She checks her phone, seeing a response from Finn: !! i think i can make a guess. get it girl! A wide grin breaks out across her face at her friend’s response, and she sends back a thumbs-up icon, then stashes her phone in her bag. Her heart feels like it’s threatening to pound straight out of her chest as she jogs back up the steps and out the gym’s front door.
The girl is more than surprised to see a black Audi waiting at the curb, and until she hears the horn blare she hadn’t even thought to consider that it might be Kylo’s car. Holy shit, she thinks as she gets in the car, settling into a sleek leather seat. She doesn’t think she has ever ridden in a car this nice in her entire life, and she wonders distantly why someone with enough money for a car like this would come to this gym (which, as much as Rey loves, she knows is pretty run-down) when they could clearly afford the membership fees at a more upscale fitness center.
Her thoughts are interrupted by Kylo shifting into gear and pulling into traffic. She looks over at the dark-haired man and realizes with a start that he had managed to shower and change in the scant few minutes since they had been in the weight room. His hair is damp and she can detect the faint scent of his shampoo, something minty and herbal. He’s wearing dark, slim fitting jeans and a plain black t-shirt which is just the tiniest bit too tight for his broad chest and shoulders. He looks fucking great, and Rey feels a moment of regret that she hadn’t even bothered to change out of her leggings and workout tank, but quickly dismisses the thought. She's pretty sure she knows where this is going, and it isn't going to make much of a difference what she's wearing once they get to their destination. He seems to sense her gaze, and turns to give her a heated glare of his own, the intensity in his eyes sending another wave of warmth through Rey’s core.
The car ride is blessedly short, Kylo’s apartment building apparently only a few blocks from the gym and Rey thinks he probably broke a few traffic laws in his hurry to get back to his place. They don’t speak, but the tension between them is thick and it’s apparent that nothing really needs to be said, intent clear between the two of them.
Kylo’s apartment building is unsurprisingly as fancy as his car, or at least it appears that was from the exterior. He pulls up in a front-row spot with a sign that reads RESERVED - K. REN , killing the engine. Rey’s more than a bit surprised when the tall man practically runs around the car to open her door, gentlemanly gesture at odds with how roughly he reaches for her wrist to tug her out of her seat and behind him into the high-ceilinged lobby.
He gives a curt nod to the doorman (and Rey hadn’t realized that doormen even existed outside of movies anymore) and ushers her into the elevator, Rey practically jogging to keep up with his long strides. Once the elevator doors slide shut and he presses the button for his floor, Rey’s being crowded up against the back wall, one of Kylo’s large hands on her hip while the other wraps around the back of her neck and pulls her into an intense kiss. She has to lift up onto her tiptoes to reach his mouth with hers properly, anchoring one hand in his still-damp hair and the other on the broad expanse of his back. Their tongues tangle and teeth click together in something that seems more like a battle for dominance than a kiss until Kylo pulls away with a bite to her lower lip, the elevator having dinged to signal their arrival to his floor.
Before the door opens, Rey catches Kylo not-so-subtly adjusting himself, the front of his jeans looking uncomfortably tight over the obvious (and sizable, Rey can't help but note) bulge. She had changed her mind about Kylo ruining her day; in fact, her Monday was looking better and better every second.