Taming McGregor

As Luck Would Have It (London Press Conference)

It's been three days and Conor seems back to normal from that weird stint in LA. He kept brushing it off as nothing when I kept asking and then tried to call my bluff.

"Ya think I'd care if you quit hm? Go on then, ya should've quit a long time ago!"

I just blinked at him, "I'm not quitting."

"Yeah?"

"No. That's what I said. I'm not quitting, so stop throwing a tantrum."

His face brightened almost immediately and he scooped me up in his arms, singing the Irish cheer fans sing for him in the Octagon. I couldn't help but laugh because he was giving me the cold shoulder for teasing him like that.

Oh well. He won't threaten me again, that's for sure.

We were now in London and my hotel suite had a joining door to my neighbor on the right, which was Conor. He had both the doors open so I could see him try on four different suits and shoes combinations.

"What about this?" He appears with a tan suit on this time (the second of its kind) with a black button up underneath that was unbuttoned on the top three.

"You just had that on!" I throw myself against the comfortable bed and flail. "I want to nap!" I huff.

"Ay!" He grabbed my ankles and started using them like battle ropes, which for some odd reason was making me laugh. So here I was laughing, Conor joining in when he pulls my legs down the bed resulting in me shooting towards him. I startled but ended up in his intimate personal space due to him catching me when I stood.

Things got weird. Nothing was really weird weird but it was y'know? He didn't do anything— I didn't do anything and yet that weird feeling was there. Why do I keep saying weird? We were just really close, honestly closer than I would've preferred because I can really smell the aftershave he used. And he was just... holding me. Not that I wanted him to do something else but it was... I don't wanna say weird again.

"You're really fookin' short up close."

Leave it to Conor to ruin things. I pushed him away, the tension dissolving and the mood quickly changing back to our comfort zones. Conor did that cackle laugh before checking his watch for time, "We've got about an hour to be set up at the place, and I know how you're always on me ass for being late." He purses his lips, "Think I have time to change? I don't really like the look this-"

"CONOR FUCKING MCGREGOR-"

"Alright! Alright!" He holds his hands up trying to calm my incoming rant, "I'll just change my tie and shoes." And the guy runs to his room, making sure to close the adjoining door.

"And hurry the hell up!"

________

I groaned in pain as my feet were released from their six inch prisons called high heels and plopped on the bed face first with no regard for my makeup that I spent a good forty minutes on. It was in the late eleven o'clock hour when Conor opened the door leading to my room from his. I didn't say anything, didn't even move- I was too sleepy to deal with whatever schemes he had planned. Shouldn't he be asleep anyway? It was fight week and this was the last press conference until the big night and he needed to be up early for a couple of interviews and training.

"Lani." He voiced, lethargy laced all throughout his tone. It must be tiring acting like he has sense for once. "Ya' gotta get comfortable."

"I am," is what I huffed even though I wasn't as comfortable as I liked but the bed was great and I didn't want to move. I kicked at him when he picked me up by the waist making me stand upright. "Ugh, my feet hurt Conor, just let me sleep like this." I tried to fall back on the bed but with Conor still holding me, it didn't work out.