#but she grabbed them and said ‘oh!!! jon moxley and bryan danielson!!!!’

[dunkzillla]

A Place to Call Home (3/4)

It’s finally here! This mammoth of a chapter took a couple of weeks because it’s a. mammoth sized and b. I’ve had some personal stuff going on. but it’s here and it’s long so grab your snacks and drinks and settle in! This is dedicated to @whorehausen and @shes-a-voodoo-child because without them this wouldn’t be finished. thank you for your endless support, and well, being pretty much the only two reading this self indulgent little thing.

Title: A Place to Call Home

Pairings: Bryan Danielson/Nigel McGuinness, Bryan Danielson/William Regal, Bryan Danielson/Jon Moxley/Claudio Castagnoli/Wheeler Yuta

Ratings/Warnings: Mature, Language, Sex

Summary: “I wouldn’t stop you, prinzli. I just hope you know what you’re doing. You remember what it used to be like, yes?” “Yeah. They were the happiest years of my life.”

Word Count: 14,288

Parts: ONE | TWO

AO3

The love that I was giving you was never in doubt. — Babylon, David Gray

X

They don’t talk about what happened when they got back from the pub the next morning. Bryan wants to, but he can’t seem to make the words come out of his mouth. He wants to ask Nigel why he put himself into the situation of sleeping with that woman and Bryan if he wasn’t into women. He wants to know what Nigel meant when he put his hands in his beard and said he had a cute little chin. Nigel always used to make fun of his hair, or lack of it when he shaved it, saying that he looked like a British skinhead and did he want his bomber jacket and a pair of docs to complete the look?

Half the time Bryan shaved his hair just to piss Nigel off, to have him keep picking fun at him because at least it kept his attention on him whenever it threatened to wander elsewhere. It was ironic that in their last months together, Nigel had shaved his hair and Bryan’s was grown out. Bryan guesses it started the shift in them, Nigel losing himself as he got tangled up in injuries and illnesses in TNA, and Bryan found himself being bounced around by WWE and the independent circuit.

He’s not about to shave his head to get a rise out of Nigel, but he does wonder what it would do.

Over the next couple of days they fall into an easy routine. Bryan gets up, has coffee in the garden before starting on making Nigel breakfast. Bryan keeps wearing Nigel’s robe, and relishes in how Nigel always comes down the stairs wearing only his shorts, with messy hair and sleepy eyes, thanking Bryan for coffee and breakfast and they enjoy it together, sitting at the table and talking about things they used to do, some of the matches Bryan’s had since they’ve been apart.

Then Nigel goes away to work, and Bryan cleans up breakfast and then tries to find things to do while Nigel’s not there. He goes for runs, explores the shops, he even plants a few things in Nigel’s garden, even though he’s hoping that when it’s finally time to ask Nigel to come home, it won’t be Nigel’s garden anymore.

He cooks dinner when Nigel gets back from work, and then they sit watching old matches together, shooting on all the dumb stuff they and other people did.

On Friday afternoon Nigel comes back a few hours early, says he always does on a Friday, and he sets his laptop bag down and comes into the garden where Bryan’s organising Nigel’s disaster of a shed.

“How do you feel about going away for a few days?”

Bryan feels his heart sink a little bit. “You have someone coming over?”

Nigel looks at him confused before shaking his head, “No you bloody idiot, how do you feel about us going away for the weekend. I want to take you somewhere.”

Oh. Oh well that’s. That’s something.

“You want to take me somewhere? Where?”

“That’s a secret. You just gotta’ say you’ll come with me.”

Anywhere, Bryan wants to say. I’ll come with you anywhere. But that’s — so he doesn’t, he just smiles and says,

“You’re not going to kidnap me and murder me, are you? Get me out of your hair?”

“Course not, I’ve had more than enough chances to do that, don’t need to take you away to murder you, Dragon. How many people know you’re here?”

Bryan wipes his dusty hands on his sweats, looking up at Nigel and squinting as the afternoon sun starts to dip behind the house. “None.”

“None? You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here?”

“Well. Doug knows, because I asked him for your information. And any of the other people I asked for your information could hazard a guess if someone asked them but. I just came straight here. Regal asked me the other day but I… didn’t tell him where I was.” Bryan explains, and he does feel bad about that, because Regal might start worrying about him if he doesn’t get back to him. He just doesn’t want anyone to know where he is yet. He doesn’t need them trying to get involved. Claudio knows the complexities of his and Nigel’s relationship better than most, having spent the most of his ROH time around them, Mox has always said they’re no good for each other, and poor Yuta hasn’t ever had to deal with the level of messed up Bryan is over Nigel, and he might not understand.

“Well aren’t you just full of surprises? Come on, get inside and clean up. I wanna miss the rush hour traffic.”

Bryan shuts the shed door. “We’re going now?”

“Yeah. I have work Monday, want to make the most of the weekend. That is unless you’re going back to the States.”

“No, I haven’t made any plans to go back yet.” And he’s not going to, not until he’s convinced Nigel to come back with him.

“Then pack your bag, Dragon. And make sure you put my robe in there, yeah?”

Bryan doesn’t blush, because he’s a grown man, but he does feel his body warm at the indirect call out.

“It’s mine now. You gave it to me.”

“Yeah, cos’ you were being a bloody idiot and sitting out in the cold without anything on. I didn’t give it to you to keep.”

“Well that was your mistake wasn't it, should have just let me be cold.”

“Now why would I ever do that?” Nigel says, and he puts his arm around Bryan’s shoulder and walks him back to the house and through the kitchen.

“Because apparently we’re not friends and you don’t like me?” Bryan deadpans.

Nigel stiffens a little bit beside him, and Bryan seizes the opportunity to wrap his hand in the tie around Nigel’s neck, pulling them closer together.

“I’ve changed my mind, I am going to murder you and dispose of the body where nobody will ever find you.” Nigel says, but his voice has dropped quieter, and he’s looking down at Bryan, looking at his mouth as she swipes a tongue over his lips.

“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You couldn’t even leave me knocked out in the ring, you got back in and made sure I didn’t freak out. You took me to the hospital and waited with me. You could try and kill me and leave my body somewhere, but you’d come back and get me, you’d revive me.” And Bryan says it like it’s an accusation and a fact all at once.

Something passes over Nigel’s face, and he clenches and unclenches his jaw. He could easily step away, he could easily get out of the hold Bryan has on his tie, but he doesn’t.

“Admit it.”

“Admit what, Bryan?”

“That we’re friends. That we’re more than friends, and we always have been. Admit that we’ve always been something more.”

Nigel’s hands come up, they turn up the collar of his white shirt, and then they tug the loop of the tie over his head, leaving it still tied in Bryan’s hands.

“Hurry up, I want to beat the traffic.” Is all he says before he’s turning and taking the stairs two steps at a time.

Bryan watches him go, and for a moment he just holds the tie in his hands and watches the empty staircase. Nigel’s always been good at pulling away at the last minute, at building and building the tension until he would just leave you high and dry at the last moment. It’s okay, Bryan can deal with that, he’s had fourteen years of not having it, of building his Nigel-centric patience back up. So he’ll deal with it for now, he’ll slowly work him down, just like he used to in the ring. He can out wrestle Nigel and he can also out whit him when it comes to emotions and feelings.

Bryan goes into his room, keeping the tie and stuffing it to the bottom of his bag, because if Nigel didn’t want him to have it then he shouldn’t have left it in his hands, and packs his clothes on top of it. Nigel said they were going for the weekend so he doesn’t need much, not that he has much anyway, but he also doesn’t know where they’re going, so he packs most of it so that he’s not caught out.

He can’t think of where Nigel wants to take him, why he wants to take him at all. But then Bryan doesn’t know the UK very well and Nigel’s always been unpredictable, so he shouldn’t be surprised at all.

He meets Nigel back downstairs, who’s putting his laptop away in a locked cupboard, his duffel bag sitting on the couch.

“You ready Dragon?”

“Ready,” Bryan confirms. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“Nah,” Nigel says as he picks up his bag. “You’ll know when we get there.”

Nigel ushers him out of the door and Bryan tries to think what this is all about, what any of this could mean. They’ve kind of been on road trips together before, if you count all the riding together for wrestling, and that time they got lost, but they’ve never done it for the sole purpose of just going somewhere. Nigel’s never taken him anywhere but the hospital and Waffle House.

They get in Nigel’s car, Bryan’s rental sat in the same space on the road that it was the day he got here, unused and unneeded.

It’s a quiet journey for the most part, there isn’t much traffic on the roads like Nigel was hoping for, and the sun is just starting to set, casting everything in warm yellow tones. Nigel puts the car stereo on half an hour in, playing all the same music he always used to in his beat up little car, Oasis and Blur and other British groups that Bryan doesn’t remember the name of. Some of them are familiar and Bryan’s foot taps along with them, feeling like they’re on their way to the next ROH show, getting ready to fight each other for a belt or for the right to fight for a belt.

An hour in, Bryan looks out of the window to see a sign that says, Welcome to Blackpool. And he turns his head to Nigel, who’s got a smile playing on his face like he was waiting for Bryan to see that sign and realise where they were going.

“This is where you’re taking me? To Blackpool?”

“Well, you are part of the Blackpool Combat Club, and I couldn’t remember if you’d ever wrestled here, and seeing as you know, it’s literally your club's name and it’s not far from home, I thought I’d bring you.”

Bryan has wrestled here, just once. “James Mason, 2008. I lost.” He says remembering instantly. He hadn’t stayed for very long, Regal had hoped to be there but had been caught up with something, so Bryan had left the next day. He doesn’t remember much of it, just that it was in the ballroom at the big tower they have, and he’d been bored and lonely without Colt, Sal or Nigel around. He’d have even taken Eddie Kingston, if only for a familiar face to have been with him in a strange place.

“Really? Blimey.”

“You?”

“No, actually. Which feels weird now I know you have. You come here with Regal much?”

Bryan shakes his head. “He wanted to be here for that match, but he couldn’t make it. I don’t think I’ve ever been here outside of that.”

“What about the others?”

Bryan thinks about it. He can’t be certain, because he barely remembers all of the matches he’s had, let alone anyone else, but nothing jumps out at him. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mox or Claudio mention it, and I doubt Yuta has.”

Nigel huffs out a laugh and turns down the stereo as they park up. “The Blackpool Combat Club and only one of its current members has ever wrestled in Blackpool, bloody typical.”

Bryan shrugs, he guesses it’s kind of weird, but it was an homage to the place Regal billed himself from, rather than a place special to all of them.

They’re on the seafront, and Bryan stares out the window at the view in front of him. The sea is crashing against the shore, frothy white foam reaching high up the beach before retreating. There’s lights strung up high on every single streetlight, wrapped around railings and twinkling along the pier in the distance.

“So what’s the big plan?” Bryan asks, and Nigel just grins.

“Find a place to stay. Have a look around.

Maybe we could catch a show.”

“Find a place — you mean we don’t already have a place? What if there isn’t one?” Bryan says, and he quickly gets out of the car when Nigel does too.

“It’s March in Blackpool, there’ll be somewhere. Though hopefully Regal didn’t spoil you too much while he was around, might have to slum it in a two or three star hotel.” The grin on Nigel’s face is a mile wide, like this is the funniest thing in the world. And Bryan doesn’t care what star rating the hotel has, he just cares that there is a hotel to stay in. They might not be far from Nigel’s place in the grand scheme of things, but Nigel is clearly up to something.

“You’re infuriating, Nigel.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Yeah, here he is indeed.

He follows Nigel up onto the sidewalk, the two of them walking side by side along the long strip. There aren’t too many people around, but it has dropped dark now, and the lights make everything look pretty and festive.

It’s pretty cold, and Bryan wishes he’d maybe brought a hat or something to keep his head warm. Nigel doesn’t seem bothered, which is weird, because normally it’s the other way around, with Nigel always cold and Bryan barely feeling it. It’s why he has his robe, after all.

They walk for a while before Nigel nudges him to cross the road, towards a little bed and breakfast place that has a wooden sign in the window that says Vacancies.

He follows him inside, instantly feeling the warmth of the place hit him in the face when he steps through the door. It smells like wood and furniture polish, and home cooked food that makes Bryan a little bit hungry. It’s a nice enough place, a little old fashioned, more to Regal’s taste than Bryan’s but it will do on short notice. Nigel goes up to the front desk and Bryan hangs around by the staircase. There’s picture frames lining the walls, all of them with a picture and a description of the picture underneath inside. They’re little pieces of history, and Bryan reads through them, trying to file them all away so that he can tell Regal about them later and watch his face light up as he does so. Regal hasn’t had much to be happy about lately.

“Anything interesting?” Nigel comes up behind him, a room key in his hand. And it’s an actual key, with a piece of string and a big thick piece of card tied on to it, the number written in scruffy black marker pen.

“Blackpool has the oldest amusement park ride in all of Europe.” Bryan recites, pointing at the picture of an old ride in black and white on the wall. It’s just a tall structure with spaceships on the end of wires, so when it spins, they fly.

“If I’d have known that I wouldn’t have gone on it.”

“Maybe you should do some reading up on the places you visit before you visit them.” Bryan jabs, and Nigel just rolls his eyes at him, pushing him towards the stairs.

Their room is on the top floor, and it’s a bit of a work out to get to it, the stairs are steep and twisting, but he guesses that’s normal for a place that is as old as this looks.

The first thing that strikes Bryan when Nigel opens the door is that the bed has hideous frilly, floral bed covers on and looks like his grandma picked them out in 1934. Then belatedly, as he’s about to say how hideous the covers are, he realises that it’s, that there’s only one bed.

“Before you say anything, this is all they had. And I didn’t think you’d appreciate leaving and finding anything else.” Nigel says before Bryan can say anything, dumping his bag on the bed and immediately going over to the window to look out at the view.

Bryan thinks about asking why they wouldn’t just look for something else, he wouldn’t have minded, but he doesn’t, because Nigel made this decision and he’s not about to argue about sharing a bed with him.

“Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Bryan says, putting his bag next to Nigel’s on the bed. He finds the bathroom, and when he switches the light on he finds that everything — the toilet, the bath and shower, the sink and the tiles — is pink. An old fashioned shade of floral pink, with gold accents that have seen better days. It’s the most hideous old fashioned bathroom Bryan has ever seen, but it’s clean and he supposes that that’s the main thing.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into the 1940s.” Nigel says behind him, and he hadn’t heard him coming up behind him and he jumps a little.

“It’s old fashioned but better than some of the stuff we used to end up in back in the day. Remember when that cockroach—“

“Do not bring up the cockroach on my face. I’ve blocked it out.”

“It was literally about to crawl in your mouth—“

“Dragon I swear to god we’re not talking about it, I have blocked it out.”

Bryan grins, because he hasn’t blocked it out, not at all, the memory of Nigel waking up in a panic slapping his face over and over again as he all but screamed about something crawling on him is one Bryan won’t ever forget. Not the way Nigel sat shaking afterwards in the shitty little chair next to the window refusing to go back to bed.

“Fine, we won’t talk about that.”

“The things we used to deal with. Bet it’s paid for 5 star hotels now, ain't it Dragon?”

“I mean it’s not 5 stars, but it’s paid for. Tony takes care of everything. Though, there’s nostalgia in the shittier hotels, don’t you think?”

“For you, maybe. I never got the luxury of paid expenses. I had to work at a grocery store while at TNA.”

“What?”

“When I wasn’t getting used and when I had the Hep I wasn’t getting paid, Bryan. Think I could survive without another job?”

“No I just — I didn’t know that.”

“You were lucky. WWE found you something to do when you had to retire,” Nigel says, and he’s looking out of the window and not at Bryan as he talks. “When I found out that you were forced to retire, I kept wondering what you were going to do. Surely your success couldn’t dwindle the same way mine did? Of course, it didn’t. I remember feeling relieved and angry all at the same time.”

“Nigel…”

“I am glad you got cleared again. There’s not a lot better in the world to me than watching Bryan Danielson at the top of his game.”

“You could get cleared again. You could be at the top of your game too, Nigel.”

“We should go and find some food, you’re talking rubbish.”

“I’m serious Nigel.”

“And so am I. We’ve had this conversation already, I have no business being this old and broken and getting back in the ring.” Nigel says, and he scoops the room key back up ushers Bryan back out of the room.

“And anyway, that head doc of yours. Sampson. He’s the bloody arsehole who wouldn’t clear me back in 2009. He certainly wouldn’t clear me now.”

“He was?”

“Mhm. There was nothing wrong with me back then, I got multiple letters from my doctor that my arm was fine, didn’t need surgery, and he still wouldn’t clear me. I’m nearly fifty now, I’m not in any better shape.”

“He cleared me to come to AEW and I’d argue I’m in worse shape than you.”

“You are in worse shape than me, you bloody lunatic. I’ve had twelve years without taking kicks to the head. You’ve never really stopped, have you? I have no idea how he cleared you. Or why. But he has.”

They make it back out onto the seafront, and this time it’s much busier, with people walking in big groups around them, little kids zig zagging through their legs and screaming in delight.

“I think you probably are in better shape. You proved in TNA you didn’t need the bicep surgery. You came back from Hep B. And you’ve clearly been taking care of yourself since then, you’ve had time to heal. You’ve got more chances of being cleared than you did back then.”

The way that Nigel doesn’t respond right away with a comment to shut him down, and instead keeps his eyes looking forward with a haunted look on his face shows Bryan that slowly he’s cracking that defence Nigel’s had up about returning to wrestling ever since he retired.

“How about Italian for dinner? That place looks nice.” Nigel changes the subject and points to a restaurant on the corner of a street up ahead.

Inside it’s not particularly busy, and they get seated right at the back in their corner, so they’re graced with obscurity and privacy that they luckily didn’t have to ask for.

They eat nice food and talk about wrestling matters that don’t involve Nigel making a comeback, and when they’re both stuffed full they take a walk across the beach. Bryan can feel the sand getting into his shoes, and it’s cold, but the lights are all lit up and there’s music playing somewhere and it’s nice. It’s different and it’s nice and he’s with Nigel. That’s what really makes it.

When Bryan’s got enough sand in his shoes to start his own beach, they head over to a convenience store on the corner of the street and buy snacks just like they always used to. Nigel was always hungry back when he was wrestling, and they always had to make sure there were chips, sweets and chocolate on them at all times. Old habits die hard, Bryan guesses.

Back at the bed and breakfast they both lay out on the bed sharing a bag of chips, watching a weird British game show that Nigel gets annoyed at and shouts you bloody idiots at all the contestants who get questions wrong. It’s nice to just lay next to Nigel and not have to think about anything. Not have to think about work, or Regal and the BCC, or winning and losing titles. To listen to Nigel shouting the answer to the question at the TV screen like they’re going to be able to hear him and give the host the right answer. But it makes him want to roll over and punch him right in the face, too. Because if Nigel had just lied, if he’d not told the WWE about that bicep injury they’d have cleared him, and they’d have wrestled there together, Nigel would have been woven into his story in the most wonderful and infuriating way. They wouldn’t be here now, Nigel a car salesman and Bryan a wrestler just looking for his heart to finally come home. Bryan wouldn’t be here figuring out how to get Nigel to come home. They’d probably both be scrapping it out in the ring and on the mics in AEW and ROH, just like they always have. Like they always should have been.

When he’s ready to turn in, Bryan doesn’t bother getting his sleep pants out of his bag, he simply strips down to his boxers and folds his clothes up before slipping under the covers. Nigel tries to make it look like he’s not watching as he scrolls on his phone, but Bryan can feel his eyes on him the whole time.

Nigel stays up longer than Bryan, though he switches the TV off and scrolls on his phone without making any noise. Eventually he does the same as Bryan and strips down and gets into the bed. It’s been over a decade since they shared a bed, but Nigel still smells the same, still makes Bryan’s heart flutter like he’s twenty four and crazy for him.

Bryan gets a few hours sleep before he’s woken up by his phone blaring on the bedside table. He scrambles to find it in his bleary state, and Nigel rouses beside him, their feet tangled together as he gets the phone and answers it without even looking at the caller ID that’s so bright it feels like it would have blinded him anyway.

“Hello?” Bryan says, untangling his feet from Nigel and getting out of the bed. He goes into the bathroom so he doesn’t wake Nigel up anymore than he already has.

“Honigbienli, tell me why I have just heard the international dial tone when calling you?”

Claudio.

“Uh,” Bryan says dumbly as he sits down on the closed toilet lid, tucking his feet up so they don’t get cold on the tiles. “Because I’m… not at home.”

“Then where are you? William has been calling us telling us he can’t get hold of you. That you haven’t been at your place since the pay per view. I have texted you a dozen times. You have fallen off the face of the earth!”

Bryan winces a little bit, hearing both the anger and concern in Claudio’s voice. He should have responded to them all. It’s not like he hasn’t had the time, he’s had all the time in the world while waiting for Nigel to come back from work, but he just hasn't. He hasn’t wanted anyone to know where he is, to tell him what he’s doing is stupid. And with everything they’ve been going through, maybe he’d forgotten that they’d still be worried about him if they didn’t hear from him.

“I’m in Blackpool.”

“Blackpool?!”

“I was in Liverpool, but I just got into Blackpool a little while ago.”

“Bryan what are you — is this what you meant when you said you were ‘going home?’ Are you trying to… find yourself?”

“No, no I’m — well. Yes. It is about home, but it’s not — I’m not trying to find myself. I’m, I’m with Nigel.”

“Nigel… Oh goodness… You found him?”

Bryan scratches the top of his foot and rests his chin on his knee. “He wasn’t that hard to find once I looked in the right place.”

“Prinzli, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to get him to come home.”

There is silence at the end of the line, and Bryan almost checks to see whether Claudio has ended the call before he hears a soft sigh.

“And how is that going?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m doing alright. I’ll do what it takes, for as long as it takes.”

“You’ve been without him for so long, Bryan. I thought that was a healed wound.”

“It was never a wound. He has never been a wound. He’s been… something special that I left behind when I moved house and thought I’d never get back but I have a chance to and now I want to make sure I come home with it. That he comes home where he belongs.”

“I never thought we would be here again, talking about Nigel McGuinness.”

“Yeah, me neither. But I need this, Claudio. I don’t think I’ve really been me for a long time. To be me I need him to come home. Please let me do this.”

“I wouldn’t stop you, prinzli. I just hope you know what you’re doing. You remember what it used to be like, yes?”

“Yeah. They were the happiest years of my life.”

Claudio sighs softly, and he hears him moving around. “I would never. The American Dragon doesn’t let anything get in between him and Nigel McGuinness. I learnt that a long time ago.” He says, and Bryan wants to protest because he did. He let his own path to success leave Nigel behind. But he doesn’t. Because what’s the point? It’s all happened. He can’t change it.

“Make sure you call William, or just let him know you’re okay. Mox has threatened to change all our numbers if he calls us again.”

“I will. How are they? Mox and Yuta?”

“Good, they’re good. They were worried about you, of course. They’ll be happy to know you’re okay.”

“Good. Tell them I miss them, and that I love them.”

“I will, but you should call them too. Especially Yuta. He’s trying his hardest not to get ‘all in his feelings’ as you say, but he would like things to go back to normal.”

“I will, I will I promise I’ll get everything sorted out. I just need to do this.”

“Okay. I will let you go, it must be late there?”

“Yeah. Middle of the night or something. Nigel’s gonna’ hate that you woke him up.”

“Sharing a room?”

Bryan feels his cheeks warm, feels far too old to be blushing but he can’t stop it. “Maybe.”

“It feels like 2007 all over again. Be careful, prinzli. And good luck.”

“Thank you Claudio. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bryan.”

The line drops, and Bryan pulls the phone away from his ear again to lock it. His ear is warm and a little sweaty from holding the phone against it, and he rubs at it with the palm of his hand. He washes his hands just because he’s been in the bathroom and touched the lid of the toilet seat before he steps back into the bedroom. Nigel is wrapped up in the blankets, having pulled them all on him while Bryan was in the bathroom. He’s always been a blanket hog.

“Who the fuck was that?” Nigel mumbles sleepily when Bryan gets back into the bed, turning to face him and actually letting him have some of the blankets back. Nigel never used to let him have the blankets back.

“Claudio. He didn’t know I was here so he didn’t know it was the middle of the night.”

“Castagnoli. Should have known. Nothing but a worry wart.”

“A what?”

“A worry wart. Always worrying. You tell him you’re here?”

“Yeah. Regal called them because he hadn’t heard back from me, so I’ll have to tell him tomorrow too.”

“As long as it doesn’t put you in a mood, I don’t want to be dragging a grumpy Dragon around all day.”

“I’ll just text him. By the time we wake up they’ll be asleep anyway.”

“Mmhm.”

Nigel’s already falling back to sleep, and Bryan slides down further into the covers. He wants to reach out and touch Nigel’s cheek. To feel the age lines across his skin, to feel that scar above his eye, to run his hands through his hair that hasn’t been spiked or bleached in years. But he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t have any more nerve than he did back then. Maybe less, actually, because back then, when they were under the covers and Nigel would kiss him out of the blue before going to sleep, Bryan had the nerve to kiss back, to lean into him as they slept. He doesn’t have the nerve to touch him now. But back then he didn’t have the nerve to bring it up in the morning, to talk about why Nigel kissed him, why it never led to anything. Now he’s been confronting Nigel, trying to get him to admit to them always being more than friends. Maybe he does have the nerve, just a different kind.

Bryan watches Nigel until he falls asleep, hoping and praying that he can convince Nigel to come home soon.

++

Breakfast is kind of a sorry affair, at least for Bryan anyway. They don’t have any vegetarian or vegan options, beside dry toast and fruit, because there’s no dairy free milk for the cereal or dairy free butter for toast or meat free options on the English breakfast. Which. Fine. It’s whatever. He makes do with some runny jam on the now cold toast while Nigel happily scarfs down his sausages, bacon and egg.

It’s still early when they head out, and thankfully it’s a pretty nice day, not particularly warm but the sun is shining bright in the sky and it makes everything just feel so much nicer.

They make their way along the seafront, reading all of the plaques and signs which talk about the history of Blackpool and significant events. Bryan takes a couple of pictures and sends them to Regal, with a very brief explanation of I’m in Blackpool with Nigel. Call soon. Hoping that it’s enough to tide him over until Bryan can sit down and talk to him properly. The message gets read but he doesn’t get a response, so it must be.

They pay the admission fee into the amusement park, which is rather weirdly called ‘Blackpool Pleasure Beach’, like it’s some sort of weird sex beach even though it’s not actually on the beach or about sex at all. They don’t go on any of the rides, because neither of them care for roller coasters, but they find the one that is mentioned at the B&B in the frame, looking up at it and watching it as it spins, kids sitting in the little spaceships and screaming in delight. They watch the log flume soak it’s passengers, and Bryan questions the safety and structural integrity of the coaster that has a 213ft peak and looks like it’s one big gust of wind away from falling down.

They get coffee and Bryan lets himself have one of the donuts Nigel buys even though they’re covered in sugar, greasy with oil and definitely aren’t vegetarian or vegan. He lets himself go sometimes, and now is definitely the time he’s allowed.

They check out the tower after lunch, and Bryan realises it hasn’t really changed since he was here over a decade ago. It’s busier this time, a good crowd of tourists in front of them in the queue to get in, and this time he’s got Nigel with him rather than being on his own.

He feels a bit sick when they get to the top, because the glass floor shows nothing but the drop below them, and it’s a long way down and he doesn’t know if he trusts how thick the floor is to hold all of them that are standing on it. There’s a kid who keeps jumping up and down like nothing about what he’s doing scares him and Nigel pulls him as far away from the child as possible. Not that it would make any difference, but still.

It’s late afternoon by the time they come out of the tower, and they have another coffee sitting in one of the little sheltered benches watching a group of kids making sandcastles.

There’s a mom with two kids next to them, and they’re happily eating their ice creams until the little girl’s scoop drops off of her cone and onto the floor. She immediately starts crying, and the mom starts to fluster, trying to get her brother to share his cone with her, because she can’t leave them to get another one, and she can’t drag a screaming child, a child eating an ice cream and push a stroller all the way back to the ice cream shop. Bryan is about to offer to go for her, when Nigel just gets up and disappears.

When he comes back, he’s got a small tub of ice cream in one hand, and the other curled into a fist, concealing something. The mom thanks him profusely as the little girl stops crying, and she scrambles around for her purse which Nigel tells her to put away. The little girl is beaming from ear to ear, thanking him sweetly for the ice cream, and Nigel gets down on his hunches and from behind her ear, he ‘finds’ a thick coin, Bryan’s not good with British currency so he doesn’t know how much it’s worth, but her eyes light up at the magic trick. Not to leave her brother out, who’s been staring at Nigel the whole interaction, he finds a coin behind his ear, too, grinning when he gets wow! That’s so cool! From the kid with ice cream all around his mouth.

The kids demand another magic trick, so Nigel, who actually carries a deck of cards on him at all times apparently, shows them a few card tricks, entertaining them long enough for their mom to feed and change the baby, and Bryan can see how grateful she is that Nigel is performing an impromptu magic show for her children. Bryan watches with a small smile on his face, like he used to when he’d stand in the back watching Nigel wrestle. Watching Nigel is always an experience, but there’s something about watching Nigel do something he loves, watching him perform that is so beautiful. Nigel doing magic is similar to Nigel wrestling, you can see it in his face how much he loves it, you can see his brain working behind his eyes as he thinks about his next move, his next trick, what he’s going to say to pop you for what he’s just done. The kids ask for the next trick over and over again, and Nigel has so many that Bryan can’t even keep up.

The sun has started to set by the time the children’s mom finally manages to wrangle them away from Nigel, but not before he produces candy from behind their ear as they’re leaving. They squeal with delight, showing their mom the little candies in their hands as they walk away, and Nigel sits himself back down on the bench next to Bryan.

“You’ve never, ever found candy behind my ear.” Bryan says, smiling out towards the sea. The coffee in his hand is cold now, but he still holds it against his chest.

Nigel’s hand snakes out and strokes through his beard, and before Bryan can even react, he’s holding up a piece of candy, and the smile on his face is blinding.

“Not quite your ear, but impressive, yeah?”

“God, you’re so—“

“Magical?”

“Annoying.”

Nigel’s still grinning, and he doesn’t even give Bryan the piece of candy, he just tucks it back into his pocket.

“That was nice, what you did just then.” Bryan says quietly.

“I’m a nice person, Bryan.”

Bryan goes to argue immediately, and wants to say that no, Nigel isn’t a nice person. Nigel locked him in a store cupboard, knocked him out, spat on him, bit him, disappeared from his life and left him suffering for over a decade without him. But just because all of that is true doesn’t mean that Nigel isn’t also a nice person. Nigel who helped him up when he knocked him out, who took him to the hospital, who offered to drive him to be there for the birth of his nephew.

“Yeah, I guess you are sometimes.” He admits quietly.

They sit in silence for a moment before Nigel nudges Bryan’s knee with his own. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They end up getting fish and chips, and Bryan has to remember that chips are fries here, and not chips like back home. He doesn’t have the fish, instead opting for the veggie burger they offer, and they take them actually onto the beach, sitting down on the dry sand at the top near the wall.

They’re pretty nice, if not a little greasy, and the burgers quite spicy which is nice, and sitting arm to arm with Nigel as they eat is even nicer. It’s dark now, but everything is illuminated by the lights running along the seafront, and the clear night sky means that the moon is reflecting on the ocean, and it’s beautiful. He feels at peace here, and Bryan realises Claudio might have been onto something when he asked if he was in Blackpool to find himself. He knows he’s not finding himself here, but maybe it’s something akin to it. He’s finding something here. He realises he hasn’t properly stopped in a while, stopped and appreciated himself, his family, his life. It’s been go go go since he joined AEW, even when he was sidelined for that little while to be on the safe side with his head, he was training, he was keeping up with everything he could so he didn’t get left behind. He’s been chasing the title and chasing the top spot right from the very beginning, and after losing to MJF, he knew he had to change things, knew he had to go back to the drawing board if he wanted to keep doing this. And that plan had been getting Nigel back into wrestling, somehow. Because no matter what he does, Nigel being there means Bryan is better. Bryan is always at his best when Nigel is around, and that was the whole reason for coming here, or at least to Liverpool to find him. Because Bryan wants to be the best and he needs Nigel there with him.

But maybe this has more than opened his eyes to how good just stopping for a while can be. He’s enjoyed these few days with Nigel, not thinking of work much at all. Maybe he needs to do this more often. Maybe now he knows why Claudio sets aside time when he can to play Uno with Breeze, Creed and Cole, why Mox still drives his truck out to forests and wooded areas to go for a run where he can completely be alone, why Yuta sits and plays his steel pan for hours, learning new rhythms until he’s memorised them. Maybe Bryan needs to just stop more, focus on his garden again like he has in the past. Maybe Nigel could help him.

Maybe, if he can get Nigel to come home, Nigel could do a lot of things with him.

They finish their food and Bryan gets up to walk over to the trash can to throw away their rubbish before sitting back next to Nigel. There’s sand in his shoes again, and it’s all over the backs of his legs but he doesn’t really care, because he’s pressed against Nigel, and he can feel his warmth, smell his cologne.

It feels a bit like when it was just them in the car on the way to the next show, when they didn’t bum a lift off Colt, or Sal wasn’t jumping into the back at the last minute begging for a ride, or Nigel offering Roddy the back seat without consulting him. It’s just the two of them, no one else around them, just the expanse of the sand and sea, the moon above and the cold snap of the wind around them as the waves crash against the shoreline.

“Headlock takeover.” Nigel says suddenly, quiet, and laughing a little.

“What?”

“You said the other day, about how people took little parts of me and made them their own. But that kid, MJF, he told that other guy, what’s his name… Darby. He told Darby he could beat him with a headlock takeover. And he pretty much did. You remember the two out of three falls match, you did nothing but put me in a headlock for the first twenty minutes of the match. He was taking little bits of you, in that one.”

Bryan has to admit, he doesn’t remember that between MJF and Darby, but it sounds like something that Max would say. And that he would do. He also doesn’t remember a hell of a lot of the two out of three falls match either, but he does remember the headlocks, and how much he knew it was pissing Nigel off.

“Yeah but I didn’t beat you with it.”

“No, but you could have. You got the first fall. A regular match you would have won.”

“You only took that pin because it was that type of match, you’d have kicked out if it was a regular match.”

Nigel huffs, “And how’d you know that, eh?”

“Because I know you. And every other match we’ve had. Takes me a lot more than that to beat you.”

“Doesn’t take you a lot, Dragon. You beat me more than I beat you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? We’ve had about forty matches in total, give or take, and about thirteen of those were one on one singles. I took you to a time limit draw on two occasions. So out of the remaining eleven matches, I only beat you three times, so you’re up by eight to three.”

Huh. Bryan didn’t know that. All the different matches he’s had with Nigel have all melded together, he remembers bleeding and being in pain in most of them, but he can’t remember all of them or who won or lost which. He just remembers moments, like the ending of that two out of three falls match, the blood at Unified. The blood in their last match. There were tag matches too, he can remember those. Especially the ones in which he got to tag with Nigel, they were always the best. He loved wrestling Nigel, getting to tear and claw at him, but he loved wrestling with Nigel too. They were a good team, and he remembers teaming up with him to take on Naomichi Marafuji and Takeshi Morishima, both of them wanting to prove they were good enough to pin the champ and get a shot at Morishima’s World title. Which, if he remembers rightly, Nigel got the pin that night. And he went on to beat Morishima for the title, which Bryan ruined the celebration by coming out to him and trying to pick a fight.

Of course he tried to pick a fight. If anyone was going to fight Nigel for the title it was going to be him—

Bryan suddenly feels an arm behind his back, and then it’s around his neck, Nigel catching him in a headlock.

“You think I’ve got it in me to get my score up to make us even, Dragon?” Nigel says, and like he’s not missed a day in the ring, he wrestles Bryan down onto the sand, and Bryan can feel it grazing his hands as he scrambles to push himself off, can feel it getting in every single crack and crevice of his clothes and body, but he can also feel the electricity of Nigel touching him, of Nigel wrestling him. It’s not in the ring, and it’s just a headlock, but it feels like everything slots into place, like that tiny piece of the puzzle that you dropped on the floor and could never find just magically slots in, and the whole picture is complete.

Bryan grips at Nigel’s arm, still just as strong as it ever was, even if it’s not as big, and he tries his hardest to wrench himself out of the hold, but with the sand he can’t get his footing, sneakers in the sand is not the same as boots in the ring. It takes a little bit of tussling before Bryan finally manages to flip them over, slipping out of the headlock. He pushes Nigel down onto the sand, gripping his wrists and pinning them down.

“It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it.” Bryan says, and he’s straddling Nigel’s waist now, sitting triumphant on top of him.

“Maybe you never forget how to do it, but you can get too old too.”

“You’re not. You’re just making excuses.”

“You really are still an insufferable little brat, aren't you?”

And Bryan feels that all over his body, always felt it when Nigel called him an annoying little brat, always wanted to kiss him or punch him, do something to show just how much of a brat he could be but he never did. He never had the nerve.

Bryan leans down and kisses him before he can talk himself out of it, or before Nigel can push him off.

The minute his lips touch Nigel’s, for the first time in over a decade, Bryan feels like a firework goes off inside him, lighting up every single vein and nerve with pure magic. Nigel is warm and solid beneath him, and his lips are soft, their combined stubble and beard scratch together, and Bryan feels like he’s flying. Nigel’s kissing him back, and it’s not just one of the soft, scared, barely there kisses they used to have under the covers, it’s a kiss that Bryan’s pouring everything into, let’s go of Nigel’s hands and can’t help but let slip a moan when they come up to settle on his hips.

The kiss is only broken when Bryan feels like his lungs are going to explode from lack of oxygen and he has to take a breath. Nigel stares up at him, dazed, and his fingers are stroking just under the hem of his shirt, against the soft skin of his belly and making him shiver.

“That was…” Nigel says sitting up, pressing the two of them flush together, and leaving him with a lap full of Bryan.

“Long overdue.” Bryan finishes for him, pressing their foreheads together, because now he’s this close to Nigel he doesn’t want to stop, not until he’s pushed off and told no.

Bryan kisses him again, just because he can, and this time he gets fistfuls of Nigel’s jacket to keep him close, and he shamelessly grinds down into his lap. He doesn’t even care that they’re out in the open, because it’s dark, and it’s Nigel, and he didn’t think he’d ever be this close to him ever again.

“You get turned on when I call you a brat, Dragon?”

“You’ve never noticed?” Bryan answers against his mouth, and when Nigel huffs against his lips Bryan swallows it greedily, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get this again, whether Nigel will clam up or start teasing him again, pretending they’re nothing but people who used to wrestle together, not even friends, not even something.

“You never said.”

Bryan ignores Nigel in favour of kissing him, because that’s the better option, and Nigel lets it happen for a while before he’s pulling away, and dodging Bryan when he tries to chase his lips.

“Let’s go back. We can’t do this here.”

Bryan makes a noise, but Nigel’s right, they can’t spend all night here, and Bryan, well, he wants more than a kiss, if Nigel will give it to him. And they can’t do that here.

He gets up, offering a hand to Nigel to help him. A wave crashes loudly behind them, and Bryan feels like it’s as loud as his heartbeat right now, thumping against his chest as he looks up at Nigel.

There’s a moment where Nigel looks like he’s going to push Bryan out of his space, just turn away from him like he’s done so many times already this past week, but then he gets a hand around the back of Bryan’s neck and pulls him in, kissing him deep and hard like he’s always wanted Nigel to. And it’s everything he’s dreamed of, everything he’s ever pictured. Nigel’s hand is strong on his neck, and his mouth is hot and heavy and it makes Bryan sway on his feet.

“Nigel…”

“Come on, let's get back.” Nigel moves him by the hand on the back of his neck, before sliding it down to the small of his back as they make their way up the beach and back onto the sidewalk. The B&B isn’t too far away, but Bryan’s fizzing inside of his bones by the time they get there, feels like he’s having an outer body experience as they ascend the stairs, Nigel hot on his heels as they go.

He stumbles a little trying to unlock the room, the old key getting jammed in the door more than once, and it’s embarrassing that he’s in his forties and fumbling like a teenager, but that’s just how Nigel makes him feel, how long he’s been waiting to have this kind of moment with Nigel.

“Nervous?” Nigel rumbles behind him as they get into the room, and Bryan hates how small and inexperienced Nigel can make him feel. He’s old and he’s done this dance so many times that he can’t keep track, but Nigel makes him feel like a Virgin on prom night.

“Shut the fuck up.” He half growls half whines, slipping out of his jacket. Nigel does the same, and he’s barely got it off his shoulders before Bryan’s sinking to his knees in front of him. The carpet of the room is thin and he knows his knees are going to kill him after this, but God, if he hasn’t thought about this since he was in his early twenties, hasn’t wanted to suck Nigel’s dick for nearly two decades. Right now he doesn’t care if they both pop out and crack to pieces, as long as he gets his mouth on Nigel.

“Oh bloody hell, Bryan.” Nigel grits out when Bryan gets his cock out of his jeans, thick, hard and heavy in his hand. He’s seen Nigel’s dick before, in that woman’s mouth, in the locker room showers when he didn’t care who saw him naked, but he’s never been this close. Never held it in his hand, but he’s imagined it, dreamt about it and got himself off to it.

Bryan feels himself make an embarrassing noise when he slips his mouth down over him. He’s not been touched, or touched anyone, in months. Regal’s been busy, and before that he was too unwell with what MJF did to him, and the others, well he hasn’t been around to touch them. He’s touch starved and only noticing it now he’s finally getting to touch Nigel.

Nigel’s fingers find the back of his head, and tug at the hair tie, letting his hair down so he can get a grip on it.

“Always fucking knew you’d be good at this. Used to run your mouth so much, all I’d think about was stuffing you full and shutting you up.”

Bryan makes another noise at that, sliding his tongue along the underside of his cock. And if he could bear to take his mouth off of him Bryan would ask why he never did, because he’d have let him, it’s all he thought about too. He looks up at Nigel and grips his hip with the hand he’s not working his cock with, feels the dip that never used to be there, the slimness of his figure something that Bryan never expected to feel but it still feels right, like his fingers are meant to be there, mapping out every single line and muscle of Nigel’s body. Nigel’s face is slack with pleasure, eyes a little glazed over already, and Bryan thinks, wonders, how long it’s been for him. How long since someone touched him like this?

“Bry — get, get on the bed. I won’t last, and I can’t —“

Bryan doesn’t need to be told twice. He knows, they’re not young anymore, and they don’t have the refractory period they used to have, and Bryan really, really doesn’t want this to end with just a blow job, either.

He gets on the bed and pulls at his clothes, throwing them haphazardly off the other side of the bed. Nigel crawls on after him, a condom and lube in his hand, and Bryan can’t help but raise his eyebrows at him.

“Were you hoping to get lucky?”

Nigel smirks and bullies his way between Bryan’s legs, dropping them onto Bryan’s chest as he kisses him. “I don’t go anywhere without a condom, Dragon, safety first.” He says, and Bryan realises why just a little too late, but his apology is swallowed by Nigel’s mouth, and the strong hands that slide down his side to his ass short circuit his brain until he’s not thinking about anything but Nigel’s touch, and the heat from his skin, and the way he sucks and bites at Bryan’s throat like a starving man.

When Nigel gets his fingers into him, Bryan’s chest is bitten raw and his hair is sweaty and matted against the pillow from where Nigel’s been keeping him down with a hand to his throat as he chews at him like he’s a dog toy. And maybe he is, maybe he’s always been Nigel’s toy. It doesn’t matter that this is the first time they’ve ever been like this, he’s always been Nigel’s. Nigel’s the same way he’s Regal’s. The same way he’s Mox’s, Claudio’s, Yuta’s.

“I dreamt about you once, on the road,” Nigel murmurs against his mouth, and he’s got three fingers in him, and Bryan’s arching and squirming as he tries to get more, take more. “Dreamt about ripping those stupid trunks off you in the ring, pushing you down and making you mine, putting new trunks on you. Black ones, with a Union Jack across the arse. You know how much I hated seeing you in his gear?”

Bryan stutters out a breath. He didn’t know that. “You never said.” He gasps, and he grips at Nigel’s bicep, the bad one, but it’s not anymore, Bryan can feel the strength in it, how it’s holding him down, and in his head he can hear the thumpthumpthump of Todd Sinclaire’s hand on the mat, counting the three count.

“Nearly did, a few times. But your old man had his claws deep in you, always has, always will. Wouldn’t matter what I said, what I did.” Nigel’s teeth snag on his lip in a biting kiss, and Bryan feels his cock jump at the slight rush of pain.

Bryan feels like he’s floating, hands skimming over Nigel’s skin as he slips on a condom and lubes himself up. He thinks, as Nigel’s cock nudges into him, that at the time, if Nigel had asked him to stop wearing Regal’s trunks, he would have. At least, he wouldn’t have worn them all the time. He’d have worn black, or any other colour that Nigel wanted. Blue, maybe, just like Nigel used to wear in his early ROH years.

Fully seated inside of him, Nigel puts a hand around his throat, and he looks so beautiful on top of him. Just like he always did in the ring, just older now, a sharper jaw, softer eyes. Bryan pushes into his hand, hooks his legs around Nigel’s thighs, hands on his arms and pushes, flips them over to the middle of the bed.

Nigel looks just as good under him as he does on top of him, and he relishes in the hint of fear that crosses his face, that fighting spirit that Nigel’s so famous for starting to bubble to the surface.

Bryan rolls his hips, that first stroke of Nigel’s cock inside him making every single nerve inside of him sing, and he grips Nigel’s wrist around his throat, keeps it there like a pretty collar, and gives Nigel a matching one with his own hand.

“What, you thought I’d just lay down for you, Nigel? When have I ever done that?” Bryan grins at him, taking in Nigel’s shocked face.

“You always did come out on top.” Nigel says, but his free hand circles Bryan’s waist, and he plants his feet, pushing up into Bryan in slow, hard thrusts. It’s mind blowing, every thrust sending fireworks up Bryan’s spine, and his head tips back into the hand on his throat. It doesn’t cut off his air supply, but the pressure there, like Nigel could just choke him at any second, makes Bryan feel hot all over. It’s always will he won’t he with Nigel. Will he kiss him, will he punch him, will he beat him, will he take the title from him.

“I would have.” Bryan says, tipping his face back down, looking Nigel right in the eye as he rolls himself down, meeting the slow hard drag of Nigel’s dick.

“Would have what, Dragon?”

“Worn your trunks. You should have asked.”

“You wouldn’t—“

Bryan leans down, squeezing Nigel’s throat in warning, the same way he does to Yuta when he’s acting too much like a brat, and he kisses the corner of Nigel’s mouth, feeling the way he sucks in a breath, the way his dick twitches inside of him. “I would. I was his — am his, but I was just as much yours, always was, from the moment we met. Still am, after all this time.”

Nigel shakes a little below him, and Bryan pins both his arms down, taking what he’s wanted for so long now.

“Shit, Bry, I’m gonna—“

Bryan rides him through it, keeping Nigel’s arms pinned against the pillows. The way Nigel’s face contorts with his orgasm, the same way it did that night they slept with the woman from the bar, and Bryan’s been so desperate to see it ever since, to be the reason he’s seeing it, that it drives him a little crazy, and he only needs to stroke himself a couple of times before he’s coming all over Nigel’s stomach and chest, which is heaving with the orgasm and effort.

Bryan slumps down against Nigel, tucking his face into his neck and linking their fingers as they come down together. It’s funny, how long Bryan’s yearned for this, for Nigel, and that all the years he’s wanted it, the one thing that made him come and get it, get him, was losing to MJF. MJF doesn’t mean anything to him, other than being someone who hurt Regal, he’s no one to him, just a blip on the radar of people in his life. He’s no one. Yet somehow that loss, it rankled him enough to get on a plane all the way to England.

Was it really about the loss? The straw that broke the camel's back, or was it something else? Something subconscious, something deep within that Bryan hasn’t even begun to process yet? He doesn’t know. He just knows that he woke up the day after losing that match and he just — knew that this was where he needed to be. What was going to make Bryan happy, what was going to help him finally find his footing in the title picture. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about Nigel all these years, or not wanted him, but whenever he thought about him, it always ended with he’s gone, he doesn’t want to be found. But that morning, he woke up and said no, no more hiding, I need him.

“That woman from the bar, I couldn’t believe she was chatting you up. That you might have taken her back to the hotel. I kept thinking about it. About you touching her. I’d never seen you pull before, I couldn’t watch it.” Nigel says, breaking the silence that has fallen over them. His hand is on Bryan’s back, tracing the ridges of his spine with the pad of his finger.

“So you got involved?”

“I had hoped she would disappear, or I’d be able to get her to come with me to the bathroom or something and I could lose her. But she was relentless, she wanted your dick so bloody badly.” Nigel huffs out a laugh.

“Why didn’t you just tell her to leave?”

“Dunno, thought that would make it too obvious.”

“You should have made it obvious. It wasn’t her that I wanted. I was being polite, I wouldn’t have gone back to the hotel with her if you hadn’t come back too. I only managed to come because you did, I was watching you the whole time.” Bryan admits, and from where his cheek is pressed against Nigel’s shoulder he feels him let out a breath.

“I was imagining you were the one sucking me off, not her.” Nigel admits, and Bryan sighs. There was a middle woman that night, figuratively and literally, getting in the way of what they both wanted, because they were both too stubborn and too scared to admit how they really felt, who they really wanted.

“It could have been so different.” Bryan says.

“No,” Nigel says after a while. “It wouldn’t have been different. Even if we’d fucked, or been something, that wouldn’t have changed anything. WWE would have still rescinded my contract, I’d have still gotten Hepatitis. I’d have still come here, still done all this. Who I was getting my dick wet with would have never changed that.”

“You don’t know that, you don’t know how you—“

“I do know that, Bryan, I do know. I can’t tell you exactly when and where I got the hep, but I do know I’ve never had unprotected sex, so it came from wrestling. Whether we had been something I’d have still gotten it, still lost my contract, and still retired. What, you think that if we’d have had a thing back then that everything would have turned out perfectly? That I’d have come to the WWE with you, won the title a bunch of times and still been there now? Come on, Dragon, you’re smarter than that. You know that’s not how the world works.”

“Maybe,” Bryan says, resigned. He wishes it could have been like that. Forever entangled together. The only thing that would have made winning that first world title in WWE would have been Nigel being there with him, or being an insufferable prick and interrupting him, ruining the celebration, just like Bryan did to him in ROH. “But it’s hard not to think about what could have been.”

Nigel falls silent, and Bryan knows he’s thinking about it. What could have been. About a world where Nigel was never a retired pro wrestler turned car salesman, where he went ahead and became one of the most decorated wrestlers the WWE has ever seen. Because Bryan knows that given the chance, Nigel would have been bigger than he ever was. Everything that Bryan got, Nigel would have gotten double, he just knows it. Nigel connected with the crowd in a way very few others ever have. Maybe Bryan’s got the upper hand when it comes to wins, but he knows that if Nigel had managed to come with him, that tally would look a lot different now.

“The night you won the title, that World Heavyweight title, was the day after I retired.”

Bryan nods, because he remembers. “I text you.”

“You did. I didn’t get back to you. I was going to, but that night I couldn’t. And then the next morning, I was nothing but an angry shell of a person. You didn’t deserve what I would have said to you, so I didn’t.”

Bryan feels his stomach twist. He knows how it feels to know that your world as you know it is coming to an end. The world of professional wrestling is like no other, and when it gets ripped away from you, it’s like being sucked into a black hole. Bryan knows that if someone had been texting him about winning titles the day he was forced to retire, he wouldn’t have been in a good frame of mind either. He shouldn’t have done that to Nigel.

The words slip out of Bryan’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Come back with me. Come to AEW.”

Nigel stiffens underneath him, and then he untangles himself from Bryan, tying off the condom and throwing it away in silence.

“We’re going to Wembley in the summer, Nigel. We haven’t announced it yet, but Tony Khan is going to soon. We could be at Wembley, me and you. He brought ROH, we could go back to running it, the Pure title is back, just waiting for you to put it around your waist again, you could —“

“No.”

The word is vicious and angry, as Nigel finds a pair of boxers out of his bag and slides them on. Bryan gets out of the bed, finds Nigel’s robe and ties it around him.

“Nigel—“

“Fuck you, Bryan. Why are you here? What are you trying to achieve? Is this some fucking recruitment mission from your boss and the old man? Thought if you could fuck me and get me all buttered up that I’d agree to come back?”

“No, that’s not — I told you, no one knew I was coming here. Not Tony, not Regal, no one. I woke up on Monday morning and the only thing I could think about was finding you.”

“Right, because after a decade you suddenly decided I was important again?” Nigel sits down on the bed and buries his head in his hands. Bryan stares at the expanse of his back, the resigned and exhausted drop of his shoulders.

“You’ve always been important Nigel, I’ve not been the best at being around, but—“

“The day after I retired, after you won the title, I sat in my car and all the anger, the rage, the sadness, it just exploded out of me. I screamed and I cried, I shouted and I swore,” Nigel’s voice starts to shake, the tell tale sign that he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t fucking fair, Dragon. There was nothing wrong with me, I’d passed every fucking physical I could, every medical, every blood test and drug test and piss test. There was no fucking reason for him not to clear my arm. I had multiple letters from my doctors, there was nothing wrong with it, I wasn’t at risk of injuring myself without surgery. I was fucking fine, Bryan.” Nigel shouts, and there’s tears running down his face.

Bryan’s never been good with people who cry, whenever Yuta cries he hands him a tissue and lets Claudio deal with it because he’s better at it. He used to stare at his sister, not knowing what to say when she cried after a break up, waiting for her to stop crying. When his mom used to cry about his dad before they divorced, he’d lock himself in his room and wait for it to stop.

But this is Nigel. He’s never seen Nigel cry.

“I couldn’t afford the surgery they wanted, but I could have sorted something, if I really wanted it. But they wouldn’t even return my calls. I wanted it written that I’d be signed if I had the surgery. They wouldn’t even call me back, Bryan.”

Bryan gets on the bed and kneels behind Nigel, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I took the TNA call, and it was good, to start with. But then it started going tits up. Bad booking, getting Hepatitis. They said they’d pay me while not working but they didn’t, that’s why I worked at the grocery store. I could barely afford my fucking rent,” Nigel says, and he drives the heels of his palms into his eyes, his voice thick and claggy with sadness and tears, anger lacing it like venom.

“When they fired me, I knew that was it. I called WWE, but they didn’t want me anymore, even though I proved that my arm didn’t need surgery. I was too old, too broken. A walking fucking disaster. So I thought let’s give it one last fucking run, go out on a high note. Lost most of the matches, didn’t get to wrestle any one I wanted because you were all fucking off being big stars elsewhere. And just like that, life was over.” He says, sniffing away some of the tears. Bryan squeezes his shoulder, because he doesn’t know what to say. His heart hurts, because he knows that everyone was either at WWE, him, Claudio, Mox, or Joe, Doug, Aries still being in TNA, Colt was on the indies and couldn’t make it. Nigel’s last matches were with only a handful of people that meant anything to him.

“And I was angry, Bryan. I was angry and I was upset and I was fucking broke. My own fucking mother paid for my flight home for Christmas. There was a couple of times where I wanted to drive my car right into the fucking Thames, go down with it.” Nigel says, and his shoulders shake with the emotion of it all, and Bryan lays his forehead against the back of his neck, winds his arms around his waist and just holds him.

“But I’ve had nearly fourteen years to come to terms with it, to make peace with it, to finally let go of all of that hurt and anger and be at peace with the fact that it wasn’t supposed to happen for me. What I got was what I got, the ROH stuff, everything with us, it was enough in the end, I made it enough Bryan. And I told Regal no, and I’m telling you, no. Because I’m old, I’m old and I’m tired and I have no business getting back in a ring. Even for Wembley, even for Ring of Honor. Which, by the way, your boy is the Pure champ, you telling me I should take the title from him in this return you’re booking in your head? Want me to beat him up?”

Bryan can’t help but let out a puff of breath against the back of Nigel’s neck, thinking about Nigel and Yuta in the ring together. It’s never been lost on Bryan how much Yuta looks up to him, and Nigel, because a lot of Yuta’s style and techniques are uncanny. But Nigel and Yuta, grappling down on the mat, well, it’s a thought that could certainly keep Bryan warm at night.

“If there’s one thing about Yuta, it's that he doesn’t back down from a challenge. If you were back in the ring you’d probably not have time to even announce it before he’d challenge you. You’re the longest Pure champ, he’s got the most reigns. It would be a match to prove who’s the best Pure champ.”

“And who’ve you got your money on, Dragon?”

“You, always you.” Bryan says, and he presses a kiss to the back of Nigel’s neck, runs his fingers over the skin of his stomach, it used to be softer, Nigel always had a little belly, and Bryan used to stare at it when it just softly pudged out over the top of his trunks.

“So. Wembley, huh?” Nigel says, and the hint of wonder in his voice makes Bryan feel like hope is not lost. He’s not going to push now, Nigel can tell him he’s blue in the face that he’s made peace with never wrestling again, but Bryan knows that you don’t cry over something you’ve made peace with. You don’t have shrines and sit and stare at old belts if you’ve made peace with it. So maybe this is going to take longer than he thought, but it’s okay, he’s got time, he hasn’t got any plans, and Tony told him to take as much time as he wanted before coming back to work.

“Yeah. Tony’s gonna announce it soon.” He says, and it’s almost like he can see what Nigel’s thinking about. Nigel coming out, two fingers raised in the air, iron in one hand, the Pure title around his waist, to eighty odd thousand people screaming his name. The way it always should have been.

“You know,” Bryan says, because apparently he can’t let sleeping dogs lie and even if he tells himself not to push he just can’t stop, “making a return doesn’t mean you have to get back in the ring.”

Nigel’s body doesn’t freeze this time, nor does he push Bryan away.

“Oh yeah, what should I do, become a ref?”

“You could commentate, or be a manager. Regal called you for Blackpool Combat Club for a reason. He knew he was coming in and he was gonna’ mentor me and Mox again. He wanted you by his side, I know how he thinks. There’d be no one better to head hunt for talent than you. People like Yuta, Lee Moriarty, Daniel Garcia, they’ve watched and learned from you all their lives and who better to come back and teach them in person? If I’d have had you next to me, I might have done a better job at showing Daniel he was a wrestler, not a sports entertainer.”

“Jericho’s done good with him so far, you can see that.”

“But with us he’d be better. Look at Yuta. He gets better every single match, he’s meaner and he’s sharper. One day he’s going to be better than me. I often think that he and Daniel are going to be the new me and you.”

Nigel snorts, “They fucked yet?”

“Yes, so they’re already doing better than we did.”

Bryan can feel the smile break out on Nigel’s face even though he’s not looking at him, his face still pressed into the back of his neck.

“You know everything there is to know about wrestling Nigel, you can talk the talk and walk the walk, you could be dumped on a commentary table tomorrow and you’d do a better job than half the comentators out there.”

Nigel doesn’t say anything, and Bryan doesn’t push, at least anymore than he already has, and just strokes his fingers over the skin of his tummy, and then gently coaxes him back into bed. His eyes are red and puffy, and Bryan just wants to make it go away. To show Nigel that he can come home, that he doesn’t have to stay away anymore, there’s a Nigel McGuinness sized crater in wrestling just waiting to be filled back up. It’s not too late, he’s not too old.

Bryan sits up against the headboard and gets his arms around Nigel’s shoulders, bringing him down against him. These old fashioned B&B bedsheets are scratchy against his bare skin, but somehow he’s in his fourties and in bed with Nigel McGuinness, in a place that looks like they got the last room for a last minute booking. It’s like nothing has changed and everything has changed all at once.

“You don’t even know that Tony Khan would want me.”

Bryan smoothes his hand down between Nigel’s shoulder blades. “If you don’t think Regal hadn’t already talked about you to him at length then you’re crazy. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s a massive mark. He’d flip his little fan boy heart out if he got Nigel McGuinness back in ROH.”

“You’ve said mark to many times since I’ve seen you for my liking.”

“I’ve said it like twice.”

“Too many times, Dragon.”

“Point still stands. If he knew I was here I’d have had to turn my phone off by now.”

There’s a long silence, and has already started falling asleep when Nigel speaks.

“It’s still a no.”

Bryan sighs, a little deflated, and he scoots down the bed so he can curl under the covers against Nigel’s side. They’ll be leaving tomorrow, because it will be Sunday and Nigel has work on Monday morning. But Bryan doesn’t have anywhere to be, he can wait, as long as it takes, for Nigel’s answer to turn into a yes.

“Goodnight, Nigel.”

++

The journey back to Liverpool is wet and windy, with big fat raindrops thrashing against the windows and the wipers going at a million miles an hour as Nigel drives. They’d gotten up that morning and had breakfast, took another short walk on the beach before the weather turned bad, before checking out of the B&B and getting in the car to come home. They’d hit Sunday traffic, and then the weather really picked up making it worse, and they’ve been slowly crawling back to Nigel’s the past couple of hours.

The rain soaks them when they finally run into the house, and it feels cold and unlived in when Nigel finally manages to unlock the door. He’s immediately shoved up the stairs, and Bryan goes easily, letting Nigel bully him all the way into Nigel’s bedroom.

Finally seeing the inside of the room is like seeing into Nigel’s mind. It’s nicely furnished, with a big fancy bed, a couple of bedside tables and lamps, plush carpet and a wardrobe and a dresser. But above the dresser are two shelves, one with the Pure title on, and above it, one with a replica of the ROH World title on. They both sit proudly, and two photographs are framed on the wall either side of them. One, a picture of Nigel with his classic look, the bomber jacket, the sunglasses, the blonde spiked hair, and the title is backwards around his waist, so you can’t see the design but you can see the straps. The other, a picture of them, and Bryan thinks it might be from the night Nigel lost the Pure title to him, they’re shaking hands, and Bryan’s got the World title around his waist, Nigel’s got the Pure title on his shoulder.

He realises he’s been staring at it too long when Nigel shoves him down onto the bed face first, hands threading into his bun and pulling it out, letting his hair splay out so he can pull at it.

He lets out a broken noise, but he goes down easily for Nigel, letting him strip him down and bend him like a pretzel, putting him in god damn submission moves as he fingers him, eats him out, fucks him into oblivion. Bryan’s thoroughly worked out by the time it’s dinner time, and his body aches like he’s been through a match or been running the ropes for hours.

It’s good, though, it’s fucking wonderful, actually, because Nigel doesn’t seem to want to put him down now that they’ve open the gates on an intimate relationship. He doesn’t want Nigel to put him down, and he doesn’t want to put Nigel down, so he doesn’t, and they stay holed up in his bedroom for the rest of the night, even eating dinner curled up between the sheets, which Bryan would yell at anyone else for. But Nigel kisses him like he’s the very best dessert he’s ever had, so Bryan is not going to complain at all.

He doesn’t mention the belts on the wall, or the picture of them, because he’s done enough pushing.

Bryan sleeps next to Nigel that night, and they stay in bed right up until Nigel has to drag himself out and shower before he ends up late for work the next morning.

They fall back into their routine, Nigel goes to work and Bryan finds himself things to do, gardening mostly, if it’s not pouring down with rain or too cold. They spend their spare moments making up for lost time, and Bryan feels like his brain and body go through a hard reset. He’s always known that he needs Nigel, he’s felt the absence of him like a missing tooth at the back of his mouth for years now. Its not always felt, but when you do, the size of the gap is a shock. And now Bryan’s realising just how big that gap has been for so long. Reminds him that when he’s successful here, he’s got to fix what’s going on at home.

They go to the pub on Wednesday night, and Jenny squeals in delight when she sees him, pulling him down into the same seat as last time, telling him all about the week she’s had at work — she’s a teacher, which Bryan can see how she’d fit in that environment —, and Robbie, Tom and George fill him in on all the soccer scores like they’re the most important things in the world. Bryan likes Nigel’s friends, and he happily helps Jen beat them all at poker, and he laughs at her flirting when they drop her home, drunker than she was last week.

They fuck and they watch wrestling and eat dinner together, Nigel works and Bryan keeps himself busy. It’s a kind of domestic bliss that Bryan hasn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever.

A week after they get back from Blackpool, nearly two weeks after Bryan showed up at Nigel’s workplace with just a bag and a mission, Nigel comes back from work, Bryan’s washing the dishes after he’d baked banana bread, and Nigel looks at him. He looks scared, nervous, but there’s a sparkle in his eye, that fight and determination that Bryan remembers so well dancing around in his pretty eyes.

“Nigel?” Bryan says, drying his hands on the dish towel.

“Do it.”

“Do what?”

Nigel bites at his lip, runs a hand over his face and lets out a nervous breath and says,

“Call Tony. Tell him I want to talk.”

[topflights]

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