ndmoxley - Tumblr blog

ndmoxley · 2 years ago

Text

title i'm so sorry my hand slipped: un-beef-lievable

rating: teen, for cusses and implied ass eating and the awful pun

pairing: hangman adam page/jon moxley (/renee paquette, implied)

words: 2.1k

@wrestleprompts week one: "Two people reach for the last bottle of the same drink in a gas station fridge package of burger in the grocery store."

i dunno what this is, but it happened.

Jon Moxley was a scumbag.

He was a vicious, violent blood pervert who liked to watch MMA and beat off. A brat who craved attention and did anything and everything he could to get it—usually involving running his mouth to the point of getting hit. A troublemaking dickhead. An idiot with a mean right hook and a nice wife who terrified Adam more than he'd like to let on.

And most of all—worst of all—he wouldn't fucking leave Adam alone. He expected it in the ring, in the back hallways of whatever stadium they were in that week, the parking garage—hell, he figured Mox wouldn't hesitate to jump him in a hotel lobby if the mood struck. But not once did he ever expect the man to accost him in fucking Kroger, of all places.

Mox was smirking as he noisily smacked his gum, eyes intent on Adam's. Man that handsome had no business being that punchable. "You gonna let go anytime soon, cowboy?"

Like hell was he gonna. He wasn't ever one to back down, especially not to Mox. "I got here first."

"Bullshit."

"You're always tryin' to ruin my—"

"Oh, like you don't do the same!"

"Well if you didn't mouth off all the damn time!"

"You're one to talk!" Mox rolled his eyes as hard as he could, "C'mon, man. For once, I don't want any trouble. I just want the beef."

"Bullshit," he shot back. Mox always wanted trouble. He lived for it.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you not to fuck with service workers?" He made a face at Adam, like he should've been ashamed of himself. "Nobody here needs to clean up after us. No fuckery 'til we get to the parking lot. Cross my heart or whatever."

Adam rolled his eyes. Or whatever indeed. Man had no trouble knocking out any security guard, coworker and innocent bystander that got in their way, but a little rumble in a grocery store was a step too far. "How chivalrous."

Mox just grinned, gum caught between his front teeth. "Yeah, I'm a real catch."

Adam just wanted a goddamn burger. That was all. That's all he’d gone looking for. He’d had a travel day from hell, his nerves were frayed and his brain was jittery, and all he could think of to fix it was a simple burger. Just a simple package of ground beef, enough to have some leftover burgers for the couple days he was stuck in town for the pay-per-view. That was it. He really didn’t think he was asking for too much.

Unfortunately, the entire fucking city had agreed with him. The store had been cleaned out, no burger as far as Adam could see. There wasn't even any ground turkey in the cooler, let alone a package of beef.

Well, except the one he and Mox were playing tug of war with.

"Can you please just give me a fucking break?" He was dangerously close to begging, but goddamn it, he was tired and frayed and just on the edge of screaming.

Mox pretended to think about it for a moment, head tilting this way and that like a puppy. "Nah, I don't think I will."

"Fuck you."

Mox looked around, looked at the meat that tethered them together, and looked back to Adam with his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Well, you need anything else?"

"What?"

He shrugged, easy as anything. Like he didn't give two entire shits, one way or the other, as long as he kept hold of what he'd stolen. "Well, I'm not letting go. I assume you're not, either. May as well get the rest'a your shit instead of just standing here lookin' stupid."

And Mox, the dickhole, just walked off without waiting for an answer, tugging Adam along by the beef. He could either give up, or he could stumble along behind, and he really wasn't in the mood to give up where Mox was concerned.

It didn't take much coaxing before he was, indeed, stumbling.

"Need cheese, chips, onion rolls, obviously—"

"Obviously," Adam agreed, despite himself.

"—some veggies, and some ice cream," Mox listed off, steering his cart toward the wall of dairy. "Can you go grab chips while I grab some cheese?"

He gave the man a dry look. "You're not that slick."

Mox just gave an easy shrug, unconcerned that his trick attempt hadn't even landed. "I'll get you eventually."

"Bullshit you will."

"I did once already."

"No, you almost killed me."

"Eh, same difference."

"If you'd just let go, I'd leave you alone," Adam suggested, though it sounded a little like hopeful begging, even to his own ears.

"Uh huh," Mox murmured, absently as he scanned the cooler wall. "You a cheddar guy? You look like a cheddar guy."

Was he? He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess?"

"Good, you're not completely hopeless."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome." Mox scanned the wall of choices for a few moments, then settled on the store brand of dairy-free cheese, like he’s decided to zero in on the one Adam hated the most.

Adam sighed. "Nah, that one sucks. Doesn't melt very well, get the Chao," Adam grumbled and smacked Mox's hand away, grabbing for the Tomato Cayenne slices instead. "These are better."

"God, you're bossy," he grumbled, but he didn't actually sound too mad about it as he dropped the proffered cheese into his backet. "What else d'you need?"

He shook their hands where they were joined by the meat, "Just this."

"Well, that ain't happening, so best be thinkin' about what else you want." Mox looked around thoughtfully, "Need some potatoes and peppers."

"I'm really considering making a mess in the goddamn dairy aisle, if you don't let go," he threatened. It was weak, but Adam was dangerously close to just lying down right there and waiting for their match, dinner be damned.

"Oh, please. Sweet little country boy like you?" Mox scoffed and tugged him along toward the produce. "Your parents taught you better than that."

Adam scowled at the back of Mox's head. He was right, of course he was, but that didn't mean Adam was gonna admit it out loud any time soon. "What are you such an asshole for?"

"What're you so upset for?" Mox countered.

"I am not upset. I am tired, I am angry, my flight got canceled and then the next one got delayed three times. Everyone was loud and complaining and I can’t fuckin’ stand it," he began, despite knowing Mox didn't actually give a shit. "The hotel fucked up my reservation, everywhere else in the fucking city was booked up, so I had book a last minute AirBnb—which was a bitch and a half, let me tell you. And it’s stuffy and dusty and overpriced, so I’m out a penny and my head hurts. And after all that, all I fuckin' wanted was a nice meal, a night t'myself and some fuckin' peace."

Mox scrunched up his nose a little, frowning back at Adam over his shoulder. "I don't see what I have to do with—"

"You're pissin' me off," Adam spat, and gave the package of burger another firm yank. Didn't even fucking budge. "You have spent months at this fuckin' point, making my life a living hell, and you can't even let me have one evening."

A tilt of his head, a little hum, a noncommittal half a shrug. "Maybe. But you started it."

"How?!"

He shrugged again. "You pushed me off a fuckin' ladder."

"That was so fucking long ago!"

"Yeah, but it hurt."

Adam groaned and dragged his feet, even as he let himself get towed along. "All I fucking want to do, is go back to my overpriced house and grill a goddamn burger."

Jon hummed as he observed the potatoes on offer, like they held any kind of answer. "Sounds like a you problem. You can always let go and hit another store."

"I'm not getting another fucking Lyft just to go to a different grocery store."

"Well, tough tits, then."

"The hell do you even want it for? You can't cook."

"Nah, but Renee can."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh fuck off, who cares."

Mox came to a sudden stop, suddenly tense and still. He turned a slow, dangerous look toward Adam. "Did you just insult my wife's cooking?"

And Mox had been right, after all; his parents had taught him better. He knew a line when he crossed it, and insulting someone who didn't deserve it—and wasn't even there to defend herself—was just a step too far. He immediately raised his hands in surrender and, because he knew Mox, leaned himself backward out of punching range. Not that it really mattered.

Mox smirked, and placed the package of meat into his basket as he continued on down the aisle. Easy as that. Took away all of Adam's hope for an easy, comfortable evening, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. "Thanks, cowboy."

Mother fucker.

He watched Mox amble away for a few steps, until the spike of anger and shock subsided, and he was left with hunger and bitter disappointment. "I hate you."

The fucker just laughed.

Mother fucking fuck.

Well, there went his evening, walking away with a smirk and a swagger. He watched on for a few seconds more, and then headed for the exit with a sigh, already opening up a map of the area, in case there were any other stores within walking distance. Maybe he could find a Wendy's, or something. Salvage at least a little bit of his evening.

Hit kind of regretted not just throwing a haymaker the moment Mox smirked at him. They'd both have gotten thrown out, but at least Mox wouldn't have walked away with his prize either.

But he wasn't at work. He didn't have to fight if he didn't fucking want to, no matter how much Mox grated on his nerves. And even if he had been itching for a fight, Mox hadn't brought his friends into it. Hadn't deliberately tried to goad him into doing something stupid. Just stole a package of ground beef out from under his nose, which wasn't a big deal. But Adam was hungry and tired and overloaded after a day of travel.

He was slouched against the side of the building, in the middle of ordering another ride, when a shadow crowded into his space. Warm body heat, and a cloud of cigarette smoke and cherry candy and mint. He didn't have to look to know who it was, but he did anyway.

Mox was still smirking. He held out an expectant hand. "Gimme your phone."

"Fucking why?" he demanded, though he handed it over without any fuss. Mox would probably take it by force if he wasn't careful, and Adam was too tired to care what he planned to do with it.

An untroubled hum and a half a shrug. "Just thought I'd be nice, is all."

"You?" Adam lifted his eyebrows. "Nice?"

"When I'm feelin' like it," he muttered, busily tapping away. He made a triumphant little noise, and threw the phone back.

It was open to a text conversation, with a number he didn't already have in his contacts. A simple message had been sent, with just an address. If he was remembering right, it was just a few blocks over from the place he was staying.

Mox was looking pretty proud of himself when he glanced back up. "What's this?"

"Our AirBnb address, if you didn't feel like just catching a ride with me," Mox said with a grin, backing away across the crosswalk without even looking out for oncoming cars. "Just in case you still wanted that burger."

Was Mox stupid? "Why the fuck do you think I'd go somewhere with you."

"Figured you were hungry." He gave Adam an innocent look—much as he could manage, in any case. He was lucky he was cute, because he couldn't feign innocence for shit. "You've been talking about eating an awful lot lately."

Adam's cheeks went hot, almost immediately. That was—fair. Adam had let his mouth get the better of him a couple few times, where Mox was concerned.

His smile widened again, the obnoxious fuck smacking on his goddamned gum. "Renee said she'd set a place for you," he said, smug as anything, and turned away to hunt down his rental in the sea of cars.

Adam stood for a few moments, just watching him swagger away, and then pocketed his phone, ride forgotten. Maybe it wasn't smart to follow along at his heels, but he'd never really claimed to be.

And Mox was right, anyway. He could eat.

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ndmoxley · 2 years ago

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for @wrestleprompts

"Two people reach for the last bottle of the same drink in a gas station fridge."

Jim jerks his hand back like he's been burned. "Uh," he says. Then, "Oh. You want it?"

Dustin's standing there bullishly, not flinching back at all. "Yeah," he says. "Obviously. Since I grabbed it."

Something about his tone makes Jim bristle. "Oh, obviously," he says sarcastically. "Sorry—obviously, you want the last fucking bottle of dragonfruit Vitamin Water, even though I've never seen you drink Vitamin Water in your life."

"Yeah, well," Dustin says, and Jim's a little startled to realize he's mad. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Oh, I know you," Jim says, just as mad. "I fucking know—just. Can you get the Dr. Pepper we both fucking know you want?"

"I don't want a Dr. Pepper," Dustin says. "You don't know everything about me."

Jim stares at him for a long moment. Dustin just stands there obstinately, hands balled at his side, not giving an inch. The gas station cashier is watching them openly, snacking from an open bag of pork rinds.

"Fine," Jim says, throwing up his hands. "Fine." He wheels around, grabs a bottle of Polar, and stomps off towards the trail mix.

Dustin's hot on his heels. "That's it?"

"What do you mean, that's it?" Jim says. "You won. Enjoy my Vitamin Water."

"Acknowledge you don't know everything about me," Dustin says. "Acknowledge that even if you've never seen me drink Vitamin Water, I might still like Vitamin Water."

"I can't have this conversation with you," Jim says and jerks a bag of almonds off the hook. He stalks up to the cashier. "Just this," he snaps.

"Cool," the cashier says and starts ringing up Jim's almonds.

"Hello?" Dustin says. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you right now."

"I am trying to leave you in this fucking rest stop," Jim says. "So help me god." He hisses out an annoyed breath, and then snaps, "What?" at the cashier.

"Four sixty," the cashier says, unperturbed.

"Don't snap at her," Dustin says. "It's not her fault you're an asshole."

"I'm not an asshole," Jim says. "You're an asshole. You took my fucking drink." He looks at Dustin's empty hand pointedly. "That you're not even going to buy apparently."

Dustin scowls. "You're not fucking listening," he says. "I am trying to buy it. I'm trying to explain to you about how I've wanted to buy the vitamin water the whole time, and just because you didn't know I wanted the vitamin water, doesn't mean I don't want to drink it!"

"I can look in the back for more," the cashier says. "Sometimes deliveries come in during my lunch break."

"Thanks, but unnecessary," Jim says. He swipes his card, takes his bag, and storms out. He barely makes it across the parking lot when Dustin's tugging him to a stop. "Enough," Jim snarls before Dustin can say anything. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

"We haven't started talking about it," Dustin bellows back at him. "You won't let me talk about it. You can't just kiss someone and then run away from them!"

"I can," Jim says. "And I am. Get in the fucking car. Right now. I wanna go home."

Dustin stares at him—red-faced and outraged. Jim stares back, trying to project cool contempt even though it was hard—he was hungover, he smelled like shit, and he didn't have his sunglasses.

"No," Dustin says finally. "We're going to talk about it." Jim, infuriated, tries to snatch the car keys out of his hand. Dustin easily evades him, and then, turning, tosses the keys in a perfect arc over the 7-foot fence bordering the edge of the parking lot. "There," he says, in a tone of satisfaction. "Now you have to talk to me."

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