#EddieMox

[pepperstreak]

We do a bit of Shipping ~~

[eightertrek]

youve GOT to give the people what they want (triple strap eddie)

[sequentialprophet]

"i thought bringing you roses would be a romantic! you know!?" "not when they still have the thorns on them, dumbass!" (any mox ship)

"I thought bringing you roses would be romantic! You know!?"

Eddie glared at him in the bathroom mirror, foot up on the edge of the tub, tweezers gripped tight in his hand.

"Not when they still have thorns on them, dumbass," he snapped, trying with little success to dig a thorn out of the bottom of his ass.

"I could at least help with that," Mox said, eyeing the curve of Eddie's ass in his boxers. Eddie threw a shampoo bottle at his head.

"Quit looking at my ass and get outta here."

Mox made a strategic retreat, Eddie swearing at his back.

Maybe he'd let Mox kiss it all better later.

[laughablelament]

snooping through #eddiemox on AO3 and found my new favorite tag ever

And everything went black -sublightsleeper

[banannabethchase]

Somebody placed mistletoe all over the arena. It is a tradition, after all.

~

Thank you to @sarahcakes613 for the prompt! This is fun and fluffy and my favorite parts of fanfiction. I wish you a relaxing and soft Sunday, and I hope you enjoy and have restful and meaningful holidays if you celebrate :)

Mini playlist (we're going with some of my favorite weird as hell holiday songs): Mixtape for Christmas - Hey Monday Christmas Past, Present, and Future - Ashlee Simpson All I Want for Christmas Is You - Bowling for Soup Merry Merry Merry Frickin' Christmas - Frickin' A

~

They sneak in at five in the morning, bribing a security guard to let them in. They have devious, hilarious plans in store for the AEW roster. Something that will provide them with blackmail and, maybe, just enough holiday spirit to pick up the energy of the place.

~

Wheeler is somewhere in the hallway of a San Antonio arena, too distracted by the pain in his neck to think straight.

He blinks as best he can, glancing around, trying to focus his gaze. He just has to get to the trainer’s room. He thinks that, maybe, he should have listened to Mox and waited for him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Wheeler turns around to see Daniel Garcia, standing in the hallway. He’s pretty sure he’s standing still, but he can’t be positive about it. Either way, one of them is swaying back and forth.

“Hi, Danny,” Wheeler says, trying to seem normal. “I’m trying to-to find the trainer’s room. Know where it is?”

Danny looks behind himself, then back at Wheeler, rolling his eyes. “Come with me.”

“That promo you did with Sammy,” Wheeler says, because he can’t remember how to shut his mouth, “he called you a tightass,” Wheeler laughs. He trips over his boot. He only manages not to collapse on the floor because Danny grabs his arm and hauls him back up normal.

“Shut up,” Danny says, shoving him halfway across the hallway. Wheeler stumbles and bumps into the wall, but it’s enough of a jolt to get his head on a little straighter.

“You can’t push an injured guy,” Wheeler says, shooting him a grin.

Danny rolls his eyes, “You’re fine.” He pauses, eyeing Wheeler. “Right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Wheeler replies. “Rush got me good.” He winces as he rolls his neck, feeling Danny’s eyes on him the whole time. “He hits hard.”

Danny laughs. “Please.”

“Not as hard as you do,” Wheeler offers. “But hard.”

Danny straightens up, and Wheeler can tell he’s preening, just a little bit. “I mean, my specialty is submissions and his is just, like, wailing on somebody until they crumple. Like you did.” He grins at Wheeler, a little mean.

“Oh, bite me,” Wheeler says.

“Gladly, you little shit,” Danny says. “The trainer’s here.” He pauses in the doorway. And Wheeler notices something.

“Um, am I concussed, or is that mistletoe up there?” He nods upward, the action making his entire body ache.

Danny burns bright pink. Wheeler thinks its cuter than he probably should. “Oh.” He laughs, a little low, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Wheeler makes a decision, and slides in next to Danny in the doorway. “I mean, it’s there, right?”

Danny licks his lips. “I – I guess so.”

“Plus, you told me to bite me in that match, and I haven’t followed up on that, and then I just told you to, so…”

Danny grins. “Oh, that’s how it is?”

Wheeler would respond, but instead, he’s leaning in, lips pressed to Danny’s, and the aching is replaced with something fresher, newer, brighter.

“Quit making out and get checked out!” shouts somebody in the trainer’s room.

“You’re the one who put up the mistletoe!” Danny snaps back. He shoves Wheeler in through the doorway. “This dumbass got lost in the hallway. He probably needs ice.” He leaves his hand on Wheeler’s lower back, though, for just a few moments longer than he has to.

“Talk to you later?” Wheeler asks, and he won’t let himself cringe at the hopefulness in his voice.

Danny nods, though. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”

~

“Hangman, the handsome cowboy,” Adam sings along with the video. He grins at the way the Dark Order used to be, the joy, the comradery. The absolute confusion in his eyes at the idea that these people loved him.

He misses it.

He sings along with the bastardized lyrics, leaning up against the wall of the arena, letting the nostalgia settle over him like a blanket.

“Hey,” comes a quiet voice from behind his screen.

Adam looks up to see Matt Jackson in front of him, with a smile on his face. He hasn’t seen that smile directed toward him in, god, years. “Matt.” His voice is too gentle, too soft, too fond. “Hi.”

“It’s the, uh, season of giving,” Matt says, fidgeting with the end of his hair. “And love or whatever. And I wanted to say, um, I wanted to say I’ve got your back.”

Adam blinks at him. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I mean, Mox is being a big ol’ bitch out there.” He grins, like he’s proud of himself for swearing. “I, uh. When you have the match, I wanted to tell you, I’ll be your second.”

Adam pushes off the wall, walking toward him. He always forgets, until these moments, how much bigger, taller he is than Matt. How much of Matt’s height is ego and attitude. How much smaller he becomes when he lets it go and allows himself to just be Matt. “Really?”

Matt nods, looking up at him, those big brown eyes honest. “Yes.”

Adam feels some of the ice in his heart crumble at that, some of the loneliness melt out of him. “Want to grab lunch?” he thumbs to the door. “Unless, I mean, unless you’ve eaten.”

“No, yeah, sure,” Matt says. “Catering’s got a really good salad bar today.” He lights up. “They have pickled beets!”

“Ew,” Adam says automatically, but he’s lucky. Matt’s face doesn’t fall, his demeanor doesn’t shift back to cold distance. “I hate beets.”

“That’s because you’re boring,” Matt says. He shuffles the two of them into catering, where he pauses. “After you.”

Adam tilts his head back to shake the hair out of his face, when he notices something hanging from the sprinkler. His first thought is it must be a major fire hazard. The next is that it’s mistletoe. He makes a strange, strangled little noise.

“What – oh.” Matt’s followed Adam’s gaze up. “That’s mistletoe.”

“Yep.” Adam looks down at Matt, expecting him to be spooked.

“Well,” Matt says, steadying himself. “Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“It’s a tradition!” Matt exclaims. “Oh, come on, you can’t not know about mistletoe, Hangman.”

“I know what mistletoe is, obviously,” Adam replies, flustered. “I just – I’m surprised you want me to kiss you, is all.”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, brown eyes looking so miserable that, even if he didn’t want to, Adam would probably kiss him just to make it stop.

But he does want to. He glances around, checking to make sure nobody is watching, then rests his hand on the side of Matt’s neck. Matt looks up at him through his eyelashes. It doesn’t feel fair.

“You gonna kiss me?” Matt asks, voice breathy and soft.

His answer is a gentle press of the lips, something they’ve done once or twice before, and it feels like friendship renewed.

~

“Moxie!” Eddie yells down the hallway. “You got your ass beat by the cowboy again!”

“Get in here,” Mox snaps, grabbing Eddie’s arm and dragging him into his locker room. Eddie’s still grinning, though, and Mox is halfway to throwing him back out in the hallway if he could trust Eddie could shut up for a second.

“Aw, Mox, gonna be like old times?” Eddie crowds into Mox’s space. Mox lets him, getting pressed up against the wall, fingers threaded with Eddie’s.

“Not if you’re gonna be a dick,” Mox says back, and Eddie laughs against his neck, pressing kisses. “Come on, you don’t get to give me a hickey after making fun of me. Quit it.”

Eddie pulls away, eyes sparkling. “What, you don’t think it’s funny?”

“I don’t,” Mox says, but he doesn’t shove Eddie off. “Hangman’s got a chip on his shoulder. That’s not my fault.”

“You knocked him out.”

“Again, glass jaw, not my fault!” Mox throws his hands in the air. “Look, man, why the hell is everybody all mad at me for? Ooh, sweet baby Cowboy got hurt. Mox is a bad, evil man for being good at his job and winning his match.” He slumps back against the wall. “Everybody is a big fuckin’ whiner.”

Eddie studies him. “You had a smoke recently?”

Mox thinks about it. “Uh. No.”

“That’s why you’re being bitchy,” Eddie says, more to himself than to Mox. “Come on. We’re going outside.” He grabs Mox’s arm, and he goes along without much of a fight. Because Eddie’s right – it’s been a while since his last cigarette.

Unfortunately, this day is destined to piss him off.

“Hangman,” Mox says, steeling himself for a fight.

Adam Page rolls his fucking eyes at him. “God damn it, Moxley, can’t I go take a piss without you in my face?”

“You’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me,” Mox says. He puts his hands behind his back, grinning. “Take a swing, baby. I’ll even let you try to knock me out, yeah?”

“While this is fun,” Eddie says, “I think you two should look up.”

He looks at Page, then looks up, and looks back at Page, who looks, surprisingly, fatigued. “Oh, god,” Page says, “not another one.”

“Another one?” Mox says. “Aw, Cowboy, you been puttin’ your lips on somebody else? I thought you were all about me right now.”

Page stares at him, blue-green eyes unblinking for a moment. Then he strides toward him, grabs Mox’s face in his hands, and gives Mox the kind of kiss that makes him go a bit weak in the knees. Mox finds his footing, though, and gives back just as hard, clacking teeth with it. Page pushes him away as fast as he came at him. “I’ll kick your ass later,” Page says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which definitely should not have given Mox a boner. “I gotta get back to my hotel before somebody else does some more stupid shit to make me stay here.” He nods to Eddie, like this isn’t weird at all, and walks past the two of them without another look back.

“I like him,” Eddie decides. “I know he’s your arch enemy right now or whatever, but I like him. The man’s got balls.”

“I…” Mox finds his fingers touching his lips, his brain a little dizzy. “Did that just happen?”

Eddie studies his face, then his eyes drop down to Mox’s crotch. “Oh. Of course. Your horny bastard. Alright, go back to the locker room. Fuck first, then cigarette.”

Mox shrugs. He can work with that order of events.

“First, though,” Eddie grabs Mox by the neck and hauls him in for a kiss, less angry than Page’s, but more possessive, more demanding. Mox loves this kind of kiss from Eddie. “Alright. Better.”

“Better?” Mox asks. “What the fuck was wrong with me?”

“Uh, I can’t put my dick in your mouth with you having Hangman spit all up in there.” He pats Mox’s cheek. “Now you’re better. Let’s go.”

~

Kenny Omega is fucking tired.

“You gotta do this bit, Omega-man,” Matt says, practically vibrating. “If you don’t start now, we’re missing a whole storyline detail, and then new people won’t know who the eff Ibushi is when he shows up at Revolution, and then we’ve lost the audience.” He perches on the side of the table, hops off, does a little jump on his toes, and goes right back on the table. “Come on. Please?”

Kenny exhales and turns to Matt. “Okay. Fine. But you and Cutler are out of here once we’re done.”

Matt nods. “Totally. Definitely.”

“You had another one of those Death coffees again, didn’t you?”

Matt shrugs. “Gets the job done. Don’t judge me.”

They run the bit, something practically invisible unless you know who Ibushi is, know that he’s Kenny’s favorite person and the biggest heartbreak he’s ever had. He wishes he knew how to tell Matt that this, the ex, is off limits. But he can’t.

“We good?” Kenny asks, curling up on the couch. “I need a nap.”

“We have EVP duties,” Matt says, frowning.

He might scream, later, when he’s back in his hotel room. “Can’t you and Nick take care of it?”

“It’s a three man job, and Tony’s on the phone yapping at somebody to stay for interviews,” Matt says. “So it’s the Elite taking over.”

Kenny follows him and, too late, realizes he forgot his phone in his locker room.

“I swear, I’ll be there,” Kenny promises Matt. “Seriously. Just give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” Matt repeats.

Kenny nods, because he knows what this is. “Five minutes.” He turns on his heel and makes his way back to his locker room, one closest to the exit. On the final turn to the room, he sees him.

Hangman.

Adam.

He’s on the phone, by the exit, talking frenetically and fidgeting with his belt buckle. He looks no different than before, when they were whatever they were. Champions, he guesses, but there was always so much more. Most unfortunately, though, he’s leaning up against the door of Kenny’s room.

He promised Matt five minutes. If he breaks that promise…

Kenny straightens his back, girds his loins, as they say, and walks toward the door like everything is normal. “Hey,” he says. “My locker room. Can I get in?”

Adam’s eyes are a little panicked, a little wild. He looks upwards, looks at Kenny, looks up again, and relaxes. “Sorry. Yeah. Uh.” He slides to the side. “Go right ahead.” He turns back to the phone. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Give me a minute.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Kenny says, waving it off. He feels too hot all of a sudden. Before he thinks about it, he pulls his shirt off over his head as he pushes into the locker room, then comes out with his phone. “You can, uh, go back there.”

Adam stares at him. “In front of a door? I, uh, I’m good here.” He wiggles his phone. “Tony’s trying to convince me to do some sort of interview later, but I’m exhausted.”

“You should,” Kenny says automatically. Adam raises his eyebrows. “Stay, I mean. I think people are really going to want to hear your plan for Moxley.”

Adam lets a small smile escape. “What, like, other than me wanting to drag him to hell?”

Kenny shrugs. “There could be more to it. I’m not in your head.”

Adam flinches like he got slapped, and Kenny wonders why he constantly fucks up with this man. “Yeah, you, uh, you’re not.” He pushes his hair out of his face. “You know where Tony is?”

“Yeah, I think he’s in the office. I’ll take you there.” It feels like an olive branch, at least to Kenny. Adam asking for help, allowing Kenny to give it. It feels like healing.

It’s devastatingly boring small talk on the short walk to the EVP office, talking about the weather and the traffic, but it’s more words between them without rage than they’ve exchanged since 2020.

“There’s a hallway between here and his office, but, uh, I’m sure he’ll let you in.” Kenny offers a smile to Adam, doing his best to be okay, be calm. To not spook him.

Adam nods. “Thanks, Kenny.” His eyes are locked onto Kenny’s. “I mean it.”

Kenny makes a strange little gesture toward the door, and his hand brushes against something hanging on the doorknob. He looks down, confused. “Oh.”

Adam follows his gaze, then groans. “Again?”

Kenny snaps up to look at him. “What, you’re just finding mistletoe all over the place?”

“Actually, yeah,” Adam says, looking a bit frazzled. “Like, this is the third one in the venue. It’s getting weird.”

Kenny laughs, but it’s too high pitched to be normal. “Weird. I didn’t put them up.”

Adam studies his face. “Why would you say that unless you’re the one who hung them?”

“I didn’t!” Kenny says. “Dude, I swear. I have nothing to do with the mistletoe.”

Adam’s fighting a smile, Kenny can tell. It’s one of the best looks for Adam. “You swear?”

“I swear,” Kenny says automatically.

Adam sighs. “Well, I’ve done the other two. Come here.”

���What?”

“Kissed somebody,” Adam explains, “with the mistletoe. It’s a tradition.”

“I know the tradition,” Kenny says. “I just – I’m surprised you’re – with me.” He swallows.

Adam’s smile turns kind. “It’s just a kiss, Kenny. If you don’t want to, we don’t.”

Kenny thinks about it for a minute. It’s a horrible decision. They’ve been through too much, hurt each other in too many ways, been away for too much time. This could be enough to shatter them both again.

He steps into Adam’s space, leaning in where Adam does, and their lips meet. It feels like warm honey in a cup of tea at home, like a heavy blanket on a snowy night when you know you’ll get a snow day the next morning. Kenny leans into it, resting a hand on Adam’s arm, drinking in the moment. If this is the last moment he shares with this man, a moment he never imagined possible, he wants it to echo.

They pull apart, and Kenny watches as Adam’s eyes flutter open.

“Okay,” Adam says, quiet. “Um. I’ll – I’ll be. Um.” He smiles, and it tattoos itself into Kenny’s soul, just like the rest of Adam.

“Yeah,” Kenny says. He hope his smile echoes his thoughts. “I gotta get to Matt and Nick. EVP shit, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam says. He reaches out to Kenny’s hand, though, and squeezes. “Talk later?”

Kenny feels the weight of the world float away. “Of course.”

When he gets back to Matt and Nick, Matt’s sitting there with a timer on his phone. Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds.

“Okay,” Kenny says, “I can explain.”

~

“You see Wheeler?” Willow asks, hopping up to sit next to Ruby. “He got absolutely flattened by Rush. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s Blackpool,” Ruby says, waving the concern away. “He’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Willow says. She bounces her legs against the edge of the table. “So, this tag match. Got any ideas?”

“Kill them,” Ruby deadpans. Willow waits. “Okay, like, don’t give me that look. I’m thinking submissions – just make them cry about it.”

“That feels mean.”

“Sweetheart, you beat people up for a living,” Ruby says, purple-painted lips in a mildly condescending smile, “mean is literally your job.”

Willow huffs. “I’m not mean!” she argues. “I’m – firm! Decisive! I tell stories.”

“Through hitting people.”

“Okay, yeah, fine. By hitting people.” She bumps Ruby. “I am a little excited about punching Anna and Tay. They could use a good fist to the face.”

“Okay, see, while I like the tenacity, if you closed fist them, we get disqualified. And that’s the opposite of the goal.”

“Fair,” Willow concedes. “Elbows?”

Ruby grins, patting her own elbow. “All of ‘em.”

They plan out the match together, tag methods Willow’s never thought of before, moves Ruby’s sure she can pull off that Willow was always hesitant about.

Ruby says something, and Willow laughs so hard she falls backward. When she opens her eyes, she sees something on the ceiling. “Hey,” she says, forcing the words through giggles. “What’s that?”

Ruby looks up. “I think – oh.” She grins down at Willow. “Mistletoe.”

Willow shrugs. “I mean. Why not?”

Ruby leans down and kisses her, soft and sweet and quick. She pulls away, smiling. “You’ve got my lipstick all over your face.”

Willow grins back at her. “Tag team shit?”

“Tag team shit.”

~

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just a kiss on the cheek!” Kenny says, grabbing at Nick’s arm. “EVP cheek smooches.” He pouts. “You used to do cheek smooches for Adam Cole.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nick says, but he makes the mistake of smiling. Kenny smells blood in the water, and Matt jumps in.

“Nick,” Matt says, “it’s a tradition. It’s either kiss him on the cheek or on the lips.”

Nick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. Okay, fine. Get over here. I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Matt retorts, and Nick kind of wants to strangle him.

He and Matt kiss Kenny on the cheek underneath the mistletoe, and Brandon films it for BTE, with Kenny giving a rambling diatribe about how he’s going to find the person who posted all the mistletoe and destroy them.

“Okay, well, that’s a little much,” Matt laughs. “We’re not going to destroy anybody.”

“I might destroy you,” Nick mutters. “God, I just wanna go home. When’s our flight?”

“Not until later, baby brother,” Matt says, and he gives Nick the worst noogie since high school.

“Get off me!”

“Today was fun,” Matt says, throwing an arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Where’d you get the idea for mistletoe?”

Nick pauses, and Matt half stumbles over himself. “What?”

“The mistletoe,” Matt repeats. “That was you, right? Putting it all over the arena.”

Nick shakes his head slowly. “No. I thought it was you.”

They turn to Kenny in tandem. “Was it you?” Matt asks.

“No, I thought it was Matt, actually.” He stares Matt down, and Nick joins in.

“I didn’t do it!” Matt insists. “Why would I ask you about the idea if it was me?!”

“Because that’s how you would bring it up,” Nick says. “It’s annoying. You’re annoying. That’s how you’d bring it up.”

“You’re more annoying,” Matt grumbles.

“You two are missing the point,” Kenny interrupts. “If it wasn’t one of us putting the mistletoe everywhere, who the hell was it?”

~

Max giggles and jumps like a toddler. “This was so good!” he laughs, spinning in his seat.

“Shh!” Anthony says, yanking his arm to sit down. “They still don’t know who it was. Do you want to ruin it?”

Max gets himself under control. “Did you have any idea Mox and Eddie were, like, together?”

“Um, duh,” Anthony says. “Jesus, for somebody this gay, you sure are oblivious.”

“You’re gay,” Max retorts.

“Yeah,” Anthony says. “Focus. We now have blackmail on the entire company. What do you want to do with it?”

Max goes quiet for a minute, stewing. “Actually, you know what I want to do?”

“What?”

He grins at Anthony. “I want to go flirt with MJF.”

Anthony collapses backward onto the floor, groaning like somebody just hit him. “Stop flirting with the devil. He’s never going to love you back.”

“It could be a Christmas miracle!” Max says, leaping to his feet. “We could It’s A Wonderful Life this shit.”

“You did not understand the themes of that movie,” Anthony grumbles, but he follows Max anyway, and that’s enough of a Christmas gift for him.

He looks up. “Anthony,” he singsongs, “look what I found hanging from the ceiling!”

Max does not get kissed under the mistletoe. He gets tackled.

[sonnykissed]

eddiemox please give me a second just give me a sec

[nogoinghomegame]

FUCKME

[catboymansion]

nice

[fourkillers]

eddiemox live hatefuck incoming!!

[suplexjones]

eddiemox was the best match of the night

[wrestlezon]

the eddiemox promo was cool too btw & I should rewatch the eddie danielson match now that I won't be distracted by constantly putting my hands on my head and going "noooo eddieeeeeee ahhhh" and so on

[cuntertaker]

EDDIEMOX PLEASE LET EDDIE WIN

[wammbam]

N

N: Any fic ideas brewing you'd like to share?

well i do have a few wips in my docs, one that is like nearly done (drag au) and then like two bcc stories that are like nowhere near done. ive had a few eddiemox ideas, but nothing really solid

edit: i lied. theres a danny/bryan fic somewhere in my brain that goes with the song michelle by sir chloe

[banannabethchase]

early indies eddiemox or kennymox inspired by the lyric "I built myself a castle on the beach/Watching as it slid into the sea"

Well @sarahcakes613 you hurt me with a fic now it's time to turn on the angst here.

~

Kicking over Sandcastles

set right before Mox went to FCW

~

Eddie’s perched on the edge of the roof, kicking his legs. He’s got a bottle in his hands. At least it’s mostly full. Mox walks up to him carefully, like he did with that hurt puppy he saw on the side of the road at the last show. “Eddie?”

He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t flip Mox off or run away or throw the bottle at his head, so Mox keeps walking. “Eddie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he croaks, rough voice harsher than Mox is used to. “I’m fuckin’ fine, not that you care.”

“I do care,” Mox says. He’s never felt so miserable. “Eddie, I always care.”

Eddie turns to him, those bright eyes shining. “You’re leaving. You can’t care that much.”

“Just – don’t be mad at me for this,” Mox pleads. “Eddie, come on. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“One you’re choosing over me.” It’s practically a mumble, like Eddie wasn’t convinced he wanted Mox to hear it.

“Not – not over you,” Mox replies. “No, Eddie, I want you to come with me.” He reaches out, braces for Eddie to flinch, but he doesn’t. Just lets Mox take his hand limply. “I’m gonna bring you with me.”

Eddie’s laugh is harsh. “They don’t want me, Mox. They look at me and think I’m too fat or too slow. I’m nothing to them.” He glares at Mox. “I’m surprised even you were worth their time.”

Mox is the one flinching now, taking his hand back from Eddie’s.

“That’s not what – I just mean…” Eddie yells, dropping his head in his hand. “We built something beautiful here, Jon, and now you’re leaving for a place who won’t love you like we do.” He looks up at Mox, crying. “Like I do.”

It’s the first time they’ve said it. Mox wishes Eddie hadn’t, because now he can’t pretend. “I love you,” Mox says, and he grabs both of Eddie’s hands this time. “I’m not leaving this place because I don’t love you.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, taking his hands back. “You leave just like everybody else.” He moves to stand, and Mox realizes this may be it. But he won’t leave Eddie with that as his last memory.

Mox grabs him by the shoulder and spins him. He knows Eddie well enough that he’s about to clock Mox with a fist to the jaw, so Mox leans back, pins Eddie’s arms to his sides, and takes him out by the knees. They collapse to the floor, Mox only remembering at the last second to cradle a hand behind Eddie’s head so he doesn’t knock himself out on the concrete. Eddie glares up at him.

“Get off me.”

“No,” Mox says. He’s got no idea what his next move is.

Eddie makes a noise, more pained and frustrated than a growl, and wraps a hand around the back of Mox’s neck. He pulls him down, kisses him with all the pain in his voice. Mox holds onto this, to Eddie, praying this isn’t the last time they collide.

[sonnykissed]

Me watching eddiemox slap each other on their sweaty chests

[fvkvrodani]

whats gayer?? the rainbow flag or whatever the fuck is going on in the eddiemox match