#standing up for your muse during a little spat or something like a bar fight

[quick-drawn]

to me cassidy always seemed like the type that'd offer up a firm handshake to go along with a brief introduction, curt nod and one of the friendliest smiles you'll ever see, just before he uses that handshake to pull you into a headbutt for thinking you could talk to his friend over there like that —

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub​ for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink. 

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table. 

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’  

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment. 

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him. 

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long. 

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible. 

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.

[old-hyper-super-clover]

Squeeze that bunny tail!

Part 4

Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.

The story is divided in several parts and will be updated every few days. find the other parts in my masterlist.

Story continues below the cut. Have fun!

Finally having stomached the midnight clothing change, the girls had to get back to work, so they kept their strategic meeting short.

However, when they finally stepped outside into the public again...

The demon lord was waiting for them.

Arms crossed, expression serious.

He was staring at them.

"Lord Diavolo...!" Violet pressed out while Clover gave a quiet but terrified "oh no he will actually kill me" as both backed away on instinct.

"May I have a word with you two?" the demon prince asked, however it felt more like a demand. They have never heard him speak in such a serious tone before.

The girls not able to give an answer other than a nod, Diavolo gestured at the staff's office room.

He let them step inside before closing the door... And locking it.

None of them have ever felt like shitting their pants more than in this moment.

"Violet, Clover" He raised his voice.

Clover had called her own death, and had accidentally pulled Violet with her.

"There is an urgent matter that I have to discuss with you two..."

That was it. The end.

Diavolo kept them trembling in a horrible silence for way too long.

"Y-yes...?" Violet somehow managed to say.

He took a heavy breath. The girls swallowed their fear.

Then, he spoke up.

"... Why do you keep squishing everyone's bunny tails? Is it some kind of human tradition? I'm dying to know!"

The girls literally felt like they just died.

"I've observed you for quite a while now, but I can't make out the reason behind it" Diavolo continued. "Please, fill me in...!"

----------------------

It took a while to recover, but in the end, the girls confessed about their game.

"We just look how many of those tails we can squeeze" Clover said.

"It's nothing more than a joke..." Violet mumbled. "I'm sorry to have upset you..."

Diavolo blinked at them.

"Upset?"

"Uhm... Yes..." Violet frowned in regret. "We will stop being childish while working. Again, sorry for-"

"Can I join your game?"

Silence.

"Y... You want to... Squeeze the guys' tails with us?" Clover asked.

And Diavolo's natural smile said it all. So, it seemed like another opponent joined the game at half time...

---------------------------

The three parted quickly after as they were needed in the local, but Clover had an idea on how to keep things organized:

* Clover formed the group chat [Squeeze that bunny tail!] *

Diavolo: Hello!

Violet: ... Are you sure we shouldn't call the group something else...?

Diavolo: I quite like it.

Clover: Thank you, Sir :D

Diavolo: This is the first group chatroom I am in without Barbatos.

Violet: Should we add him?

Diavolo: No. Don't tell him. I am experiencing a new kind of freedom right now. Anyway, I wish you girls the best of luck in our competition!

---------------------

As this story is ridiculously long, let’s do a quick squeeze round!

Violet got very lucky... She caught Luke while the angel had been trying to reach for something in the kitchen shelves. He was still in his first outfit (because even demons do not support children nudity, that's gross), and looked adorable, standing on that stool to be tall enough.

After squeezing his tail, Violet offered her help.

... Only to realise she wasn't tall enough either.

But oh well, luckily, Solomon appeared and was there to grab those tiny cocktail parasols.

Later, Violet also worked with Asmo at the casino area for a while and got herself another point.

As for Clover... She tried.

Tried to squeeze Mammon´s tail a second time, but the greedy boy was also a very bouncy boy.

She also worked with Barbatos for quite a while, but as much as she wanted to go get those juicy two points, she just couldn't.

Something about this pretty man was scaring her... She found out later what it was.

Violet and Clover were serving drinks.

And for two girls without any real waitress-practise whatsoever, they did quite well.

But at one table, it had to happen.

The first broken glass of the evening. Clover had been holding the tray a little too sloppy.

As an ugly scream bubbled up her throat, she already felt the full glass of demonous fall, but was unable to do anything. The shattering of glass echoed through the bar, but what was worse was the growl that the customer pressed out.

Looking down on himself, Clover had perfectly spilled his drink onto the demon.

"You little..." he grunted, standing up and ready to break her neck this instant.

Clover backed away, of course, and felt how Violet had been there immediately to back her up.

"W-we apologize for this accident" Violet pressed out.

The demon seemed to get even more agitated, now raising his hand to hit her.

"Shut up you fucking-"

Then, another silhouette stepped in front of the girls.

Barbatos was gently holding the demon's hand back.

"In the name of the owner, I'd like to offer my deepest apologies as well. In cases like these, the local would like to immediately return the money you have spent this evening, and offers compensation in form of three free drinks of your choice."

Barbatos did a little bow after having finished.

"Screw the money..." The demon hissed. "I wanna tear those humans into miserable pieces. That´ll do as an apology."

Barbatos did not look up.

"... In that case..." the butler continued. "Guests who actively threaten the well-being of our dear staff will be treated according to their own attitude."

He straightened his back, beaming the demon a formal smile. "I will show you the exit. Please, do not think of coming back anytime soon."

Despite being so cocky before, now the customer flinched heavily. Finally, he seemed to follow the butler's orders. He spat on the table in some disrespectful dick move, then left the local.

---------------

Violet and Barbatos helped Clover clean the mess afterwards.

"Thanks for dealing with that guy..." Clover mumbled.

"Oh, there is no need" Barbatos hummed. "If not for me, one of the demon brothers would have come to your aid. And I fear a person like Mammon would not have left the situation without a fight, so I figured it would be best to jump in myself."

The girls gave a small giggle.

"That's true..." Violet mumbled. "But that only makes you even more impressive. It's rare to see a demon so calm."

“Calm?” Barbatos looked up from the broken glass he had been collecting. He seemed genuinely confused for a moment, then his usual smile was back.

"How cute" he chuckled.

"C-cute?!" Violet blinked in surprise.

But Barbatos was already making his leave.

"Ah, don't mind it..." he mused. "The naiveté is what makes you humans so charming."

----------------------------

Clover felt safer sticking to cleaning instead of potentially making another mess, so she was wiping the tables when she heard Diavolo calling out to her.

"Are you busy right now?" he asked.

"Not really, I'm still on cleaning duty but there isn't really much to do right now... Can I help you with anything?"

Taking a careful look around, Diavolo stepped closer, lowering his voice as well. "I am in trouble."

"Uhm..." Clover swallowed her stress. "And why?"

"I lost the master key. The one the owner gave me."

"... The one you need to lock the whole place with? The one that basically gives you control over the whole bar?"

"I see you smell the trouble now."

Clover gave a nod. "I do... Should I help you search?"

Diavolo's expression changed into a smile.

"That's what I wanted to hear! Thank you."

"No problem. Do you have any idea where it might be?"

So Diavolo gave it a thought, concluding that he must have lost it during his break.

"I looked through the bathroom already” he explained. “Which leaves only the kitchen and the staff's room."

Suddenly, a third voice joined the conversation.

"I did not notice anything like a key in the kitchen" Satan said, coming to a stop next to them.

"Oh, Satan, so you have overheard our conversation..." Diavolo crossed his arms.

"Don't worry, I won't spill anything to Lucifer" the blond laughed. "He'd only scold you, wouldn't he?" Then, his gaze fell on Clover. "I can help you search."

----------------

Clover and Satan looked through the whole staff's office.

Luckily no one was there to ask what they were doing, especially since they just couldn't find anything. Satan gave a sigh.

"Nothing... I even looked through Mammon's jacket in case his kleptomania had struck again..."

Meanwhile, Clover was rummaging through one of the desks. Giving a resigned breath as well, she was about to give up when she spotted something shimmering behind the wooden desk.

"I think I found it...!" Clover called out.

Satan came up to her, seeing as well how there was a key stuck in the web of cables behind the office desk.

"Wait, I'll get it."

He tried reaching it from above, but some computer monitors kept getting in the way.

In the end, Satan was crouched down, head under the table as he fiddled with the cables.

"I still can't reach it..." he pressed out under his breath.

Clover grumbled in displease, kneeling down as well. There wasn't enough room for her to help in any way, so all she could do was watch Satan do his thing...

Oh no.

She had THE perfect chance to squish Satan's tail. Due to his position, his booty was right in front of her, and he seemed more than busy to even bother her presence.

Three points, she thought...

Just a little tap, she thought...

Holding her breath, she stretched out a finger and reached for the pompom...

Merely a second later Clover found herself landing on her back, her wrists being pressed against the floor next to her head.

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY."

Satan's body hovered above hers as he held her in a tight grip.

Clover was panicking.

"I'm so sorry - I shouldn't have done that - I'm sorry Satan Sir please don't kill me - I'm an idiot - I'm sorry I'm sorry - I love you sir I'm really sorry I'm-"

"Explain yourself" he interrupted her pleading.

"Hnnngh...” Clover fought actual tears but finally calmed down. "I... Uhm... Violet and I might be playing... A game..."

"Go on" Satan demanded in a sharp voice.

So Clover took a deep breather, speaking terribly fast in her fear.

"It's a competition. We wanted to see who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening, without the people noticing. Look, it's weird, I'm sorry, Violet has some kind of pompom kink and suggested it and I can't say no to people so I joined, also because it's funny, oh also please don't tell Violet I said anything about a kink, she will kill me."

His glistening greenish eyes kept mustering her flushed red face.

"I'm not satisfied yet."

The girl gave another whine.

"Pleeaase... Dearest Satan, Sir..."

"Keep going..."

"Ah...uhm… Oh lord, my man, oh how I plead for thy mercy, oh mighty Satan...! Thy tail was so tempting, I couldn't resist reaching for it...... And also I suck at this game and need points so desperately...! It was just too perfect of a chance, please forgive m..."

She stopped.

He was smirking at her, his grin almost dripping with this sly and cocky attitude.

Clover only now felt how there was something else in-between his left hand and her wrist.

The key.

And she remembered what Violet had texted her earlier today.

"... Did you trick me? The key wasn't actually hard to grab, was it?" she asked. “You knew I would try to touch your tail.”

His smirk widened.

"Why the fascination with bunny tails?" Satan nonchalantly ignored her questions.

"... They're fluffy..." Clover mumbled bashfully. "Just... fun to play with, y'know...?"

The blond tilted his head. "Never played with one."

"... Try it, it's nice."

"Yes, I would like to" he said, enjoying the flustered mess underneath him as she tried to figure out what he was implying. "Right now" he added.

So Clover tried to stand up... But Satan wasn't letting her.

"Uhm... I-I would let you touch mine, b-but... Could I stand up first...?"

"No."

Silence.

Probably the only thing audible was Clover's boiling head as she slowly raised her hips off the ground, constantly being focused by those sly eyes of his.

One of his hands let go of her arm, reaching down while his whole body lowered slightly as well.

Instead of reaching for her back, however, he first placed his hand on her thigh. Through her fishnet stockings, she felt his touch wandering up her leg, only then he'd brush over her side to her back, finally finding the bunny tail in his grip.

"Interesting" he mused, poking and squishing the pompom as he pleased, visibly amused at her embarrassment. "Yes, very-"

They heard the office's door falling shut.

Both, Satan and Clover, stopped in their motion, even in their breathing, as footsteps came closer.

"My jacket... Where did I leave my jacket..."

They were staring at each other first, then at the person casting a shadow on them.

And... well...

Luke stared back.

Stared at the demon bending over the human, the human arching closer to the demon, touching each other in those... those clothes...!

The angel could only press out some dying squeaking noises as his face exploded in an outraged blush. He took a step back, raising an arm as if shielding himself from the evil.

"S... S-s..."

Clover was the first to move again.

"Luke, this is not what-"

"SIMEEOOOOOONN....!"

Aaand Luke ran out of the room in a great whine. Slowly getting over the shock, Clover let out a sigh.

"... He's going to arrange some exorcism for me now, ain't he..." she mumbled.

The demon only gave a chuckle. "Serves you right" he hummed.

"Wha-?! You're the one who start..." her voice gave in immediately after meeting again with this almost sadistic stare.

"S-s-stop... Satan... Since wh-when are y..." Clover stuttered as the demon continued to play with her tail.

He leaned in closer.

"You should know that trying to play pranks on me will always backfire thrice as much..." he purred into her ear.

Then, Satan let go, pulling back and rising onto his feet.

"Well, I think that is enough of a punishment for now. I'll go and bring Lord Diavolo his key."

Clover sat up as well, but her legs were way too wobbly to do any more than that.

She glanced up at him, seeing him wave a goodbye.

"See you around" he hummed, adding a little wink before heading out of the room.

-----------------------

About another hour had passed when Clover and Violet decided to check up in Diavolo again...

Clover: Lord Diavolo, how is the game going?

Diavolo: Good! I have 62 points so far.

Clover: WHAT

Violet: U-uhm... May I ask how you got to have so many...?

Diavolo: I asked Barbatos to let me touch his tail.

Clover: ... For all of the points?

Diavolo: Yes :)

Violet: ...

Diavolo: What is wrong? Is that not a good score?

Clover:

It is... But... We actually had made some rules that we didn't get to explain...

Diavolo: Oh! Which would be? :)

Violet: Uhm... For example, you are not allowed to squeeze the same tail twice in a row, and the target is not supposed to notice you...

Clover: Meaning... If you simply touched Barbatos' tail 31 times in a row with him knowing... You would have... No points yet...

Violet: ...

Clover: ...

Diavolo: :(

----------

Ironic enough, Diavolo had been taking a break in the staff room while texting.

Minutes later, Barbatos came in to bring him something to drink.

"Barbatos! You are not allowed to notice me anymore when I touch your tail. Apparently I did it wrong the whole time!"

"Of course, my lord" the butler answered, the slightest smirk glistening in his eyes.

Diavolo noticed immediately, pointing out how Barbatos looked way more relaxed than usual.

"Oh, do I?" Barbatos tilted his head. "Well, it certainly is a weight off my shoulders to have a crew to rely on. For most parts, at least."

He was heading for the exit already.

"And I am glad to see you are enjoying yourself, my lord" he smiled. "I will have to thank those girls for that..."

----------------------

Violet was working at the bar.

Lucifer had promised her to teach her some cocktail mixing, and there they were.

Turns out she was learning quickly, and the demon soon entrusted her with serving drinks to actual customers. Keeping an eye on her, Lucifer watched as Violet worked, also receiving help from Asmo.

... Which was impressive, by the way, because anyone could sense that Asmo had been sneaking some drinks here and there, and was getting a little... Tipsy.

It showed at one point, though. A customer came up, asking for a drink rather difficult to mix.

"I can do this!" Violet assured her friends and started mixing the juice.

But just as Violet was bending down to put some ice cubes into the drink...

They heard -- and Violet felt -- a slap that was audible even despite the quite loud music playing.

And everyone around them went quiet.

Blinking, Violet straightened her back again, turning to find Asmo behind her.

"Did. You just."

"Slap your ass? Fuck yes I did!"

"Asmo!!"

"Come on, you CAN'T expect me to NOT go for that booty when you're stretching it RIGHT into my FACE."

Lucifer next to them barged in. "But you can't just do th-"

"It was on INSTINCT" Asmo said.

"What do you mean, instinct?!" Violet asked, her face still in a slight blush.

"Oh my godddd, I'm the avatar of LUST, if I see a cute butt I just can't help it!"

"Asmo, that's not okay", Lucifer scolded. "You need to learn to control your sin."

"WHY?! Y'all have your quirks too, why am I not allowed to be myself?! That's so unfair, I always get shouted at! Like, Beel's also snacking our whole storeroom empty but THAT'S fine, huh?!"

Lucifer´s eyes widened. "He's doing WHAT?!"

"And Mammon is stealing money out of the guest's pockets, but NO, let's sue ASMO for giving a booty the appreciation it DESERVES!"

Lucifer looked like he was about to have a stroke. A growl crawled up his throat.

"MAMMOOOOOONNN...!!!"

And he was gone.

Asmo turned to pout somewhere, and Violet was left at the counter, still a little overwhelmed.

The customer slowly raised their hand.

"... Could I... Get my drink now...?"

[bestillmyslashyheart]

0 to 60 in 3.5..

2/?

Alex spent almost two months undercover before he was able to make any kind of real contact with his targets. The Bureau had set him up with a minimum wage job selling car parts. His new ‘boss’ Forrest had gotten caught making sales off the books and was leveraging his cooperation for a reduced sentence. He was easy enough on the eyes but Alex didn’t particularly like the man and he knew Forrest would really rather see the back of him then have to put up with him for one more shift. Unfortunately for them both, making contact with the Evans gang was harder than Alex had anticipated.

They ran a shitty little shop out of an old building down the street from their garage. It carried overpriced necessities that rarely sold and boasted a cafe that had a truly terrible selection of food. Jenna Cameron seemed to run it and Alex was half convinced she was using him to test out new ways of covertly poisoning people. He stopped by every few days for something small and to try and find one halfway decent thing on the menu. Alex spent about five minutes trying awkwardly to flirt with her the first day before she shut him down.

“Be honest,” she had mercifully cut him off, “when was the last time you flirted with a woman?”

Alex hadn’t bothered playing dumb. “I was just trying to be friendly,” he denied. 

Jenna hummed mockingly. “Try something else.”

So Alex had. Jenna was never busy when he stopped by so he could usually wrangle her attention away from her phone for a few minutes of idle chat. It wasn’t much, was in fact very little, but it wasn’t nothing. 

It was more than he had with his other four targets. Until the day Michael Guerin and Noah Bracken showed up during his visit. 

Both men ignored him at first. Noah tossed Jenna an absentminded hello as he wandered to the back of the store. Michael gave Alex a cursory look before summarily ignoring him in favor of leering at Jenna.

“Be honest Cameron,” he stretched across the counter, the pose allowing his jeans to slip down his hips enough that Alex got a glimpse of a strip of tanned golden skin. “What are my odds?” He fluttered his eyelashes and Alex felt a tug in his gut. Fuck.

“Well,” Jenna’s voice took on a distinctly flirty tone as she leaned across the counter until her face was an inch away from Michael’s. Her top slid down to display her cleavage but Michael’s eyes never wavered from hers. “She thinks you’re a jerk.” Alex blinked in surprise. “And that you’re bad in bed.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Did you correct her?” He sounded genuinely offended.

Jenna rolled her eyes as she straightened up. “You’re an asshole Guerin and you know it.”

“Well yeah sure but I’m not bad in bed. I’m great in bed,” Michael scoffed. He stood up too and Alex lamented the fact that the action caused his shirt to slip down and hide the stretch of skin Alex had adamantly not been ogling. 

“If you say so.”

“Cameron! Come on! You can’t let her ruin my reputation!” Michael nearly whined.

Jenna laughed. She turned to grab a pair of beers from the small fridge under the counter. “She didn’t give you that reputation Michael. And I’m not gonna bother correcting her.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“So?” Jenna popped the tops off and handed one to Michael and one to Alex. The motion drew Michael’s attention to him. He raked his eyes up and down Alex’s body, first assessing, and then again, this time appreciating. Michael slid onto the stool next to Alex.

“Hi.” This close, his eyes were a warm honey brown and his curls caught the sunlight in a way that made them glow. Not that Alex was looking. His mission parameters did not include getting personally involved with one of his targets. “Who are you?” He grinned and that tug in Alex’s gut got worse. 

“Alex,” he supplied.

“Alex,” Michael repeated, his tongue curling around his name like he was savoring the sound of it. “Michael.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Michael’s face darkened. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Alex couldn’t help but smile as he tipped his beer towards Jenna. “She just said it. Why, is there somewhere else I should have heard it? Or something else I should have heard about you?”

“Possibly. But why listen to other people when you can find out yourself?” Alex choked on his next sip when Michael leaned closer and put his hand on Alex’s knee.

Jenna smacked Michael’s shoulder. “Could you pretend to have some shame?”

Michael leaned back and pretended to think. Alex briefly mourned the loss of his hand. “Shame’s boring.”

“Jenna!” A shout from the back sounded before anyone could say anything else. A second later, the back door crashed open, knocking over a shelf, and Noah stormed in. He held up a fist full of papers and shook it angrily. “What the hell is this bullshit?!” 

He stormed over to the counter, a look on his face that Alex was all too familiar with, and Alex didn’t hesitate. He stood up and put himself between Noah and Jenna, uncaring, that there was a counter already between them. “Calm down,” he said quietly.

Noah had ignored him at first, seemingly looking straight through him to Jenna behind him, but now he turned his eyes on Alex. It was a cold stare that sent chills up Alex’s spine but Alex didn’t waver. It had been a long time since he backed down from a fight. “Who the fuck are you?” Noah demanded. 

Alex shrugged. “No one. Just think you should calm down before you talk about whatever your deal is.”

“Alex, it’s fine,” Jenna said from behind. She sounded exasperated but not scared. It soothed some of Alex’s worry but not all of it. Not enough. 

In front of him, Noah’s stare turned colder. Alex had seconds to calculate it before Noah jerked his head forward into Alex’s nose. Pain bloomed across Alex’s face and he inhaled sharply to try and contain his cry. “Fuck off. This ain’t your business.”

Alex punched him in the face.

They each got a few hits in before Jenna got between them and forced them apart. The second he spotted her, Alex backed off, unwilling to chance hitting her by accident but Noah swung at him one more time. He was rewarded for it by Jenna twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to his knees. “That’s enough,” she stated calmly. She waited until Noah nodded before letting him go. 

“As for you,” she turned to Alex, “I don’t need anyone to step in for me.”

“Understood.” Alex wiped at his mouth and spat out a small bit of blood. One of Noah’s hits had busted the inside of his cheek against his teeth and his nose was still bleeding. Other than that, he was fine. Noah, on the other hand, was cradling his wrist and stepping gingerly from the kick Alex got at his knee. 

“So,” a new voice said coolly. “Who is this?”

Alex turned to see both of the Evans twins behind him. Max gave Alex and Noah a quick appraisal before settling in a stool next to Michael and stealing his beer. Alex blinked in surprise, just now realizing that Michael hadn’t moved at all during the encounter. He still didn’t move, his eyes fixed on Alex.

“I asked who you were.” Isobel was much closer now. Alex hadn’t noticed her move, too caught up in the sight of Michael’s splayed legs. He cursed the distraction when he focused on her again only to find her scarcely a foot from his face, her heels making her a few inches taller. She arched one eyebrow in question and Alex hurried to answer.

“Alex.” The ma’am caught in his throat.

“He works over at Forrest’s,” Jenna added. “Stops by for lunch a couple times a week.” She ushered Noah onto a stool and handed him a cold beer to press against his face. He put it against his wrist instead.

“Our food sucks,” Isobel announced.

“It’s shit,” Alex agreed readily. “Still trying to find something that stands a chance of not being poisoned.” He heard a snort from the bar but he didn’t look over to see who it was.

“So why keep coming back?” Isobel tilted her head slightly and stared at him like she could read the answer right out of his head.

“It’s two blocks from work and it’s cheap,” Alex admitted. “Forrest pays shit and I don’t feel like blowing all of it on lunch.”

“That’s a shame,” Isobel muses. “You should have appreciated it more.”

Alex furrowed his brow. “Sorry?”

“Jenna,” she called over to the others. “Tell Forrest he needs to hire a new guy. His old one isn’t working out.” Isobel turned away, summarily dismissing him.

“Wait, what?” Alex reached for her. He froze a hair's breadth away when all four people sitting at the bar stood up in reaction. Alex slowly pulled back and lifted his hands to show he meant no harm. “You can’t get me fired.”

Isobel smirked. “I already did. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Alex hesitated but when no one else said anything he turned and left.

Behind him, he heard a smack and short cry of pain that sounded like it came from Noah. “Why are you getting into fights?” Isobel asked. “You never win any of them.”

Alex had to turn the corner before he heard Noah’s reply.

---

Forrest was with a customer when Alex got back to the shop. Alex lowered his face to try and hide the blood as he ducked through to the back but the quiet ‘oh my god’ from the woman told him he hadn’t succeeded.

“What did you do?” Forrest hissed a moment later. Behind him, Alex saw the woman exit the store, leaving them alone.

“Noah Bracken’s an ass,” Alex replied calmly.

Forrest scoffed. “No shit. But that doesn’t mean you get in a fist fight with the guy.”

“It’s fine,” Alex assured him.

“No it isn’t,” Forrest argued. “I’ve got to let you go.”

Alex huffed. “Then go to jail.”

Forrest slammed the door closed and stepped in close. “I’m not going to jail, Alex, but I can’t just ignore Isobel Evans when she tells me to fire the guy who messed up her crew. You’re going to have to figure something else out.”

“Tell her it’s hard to find good help these days or something. I don’t care. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex’s nose was still bleeding when he swiped at it again so he shoved past Forrest to find a bathroom to clean up in. Behind him, Forrest let out a loud groan. “I really hate you,” he told Alex sincerely. “You’re gonna get me killed.”

“I really don’t give a shit,” Alex replied, equally sincere. He was pretty sure the Evans’ wouldn’t actually kill him. It wasn’t their style.

[darlinrogue]

He encounters Adam in a secluded area of the backstage, and he knows, instantly, that something is wrong. (After years apart, he still know him better than he knows himself.) What is wrong, Kenny doesn't know—until he approaches Adam and notices the damage: bruises and bloodied knuckles. Adam was never one to fight without reason, and he hasn't changed much, if at all, over the years. "Did something happen?" At Adam's doe eyes, Kenny, bristling, speaks with more conviction. "Who did this."

I Wrote This Title During Dynamite So I Don’t Know What’s Happened Yet, But I Hope Kenny Doesn’t Do Anything Really Stupid

Kenny and Adam for @ofgrief​

Adam brought the plastic bottle to his lips and spat-out blood. He choked and coughed, chest racking, clearing mucus from his raw throat. The cold floor seeped through his pants and he shivered. Wedged against the wall, Adam sat alone, knees curled to his chest. Sweat clung to his shoulders and bruised ribs, chest flushed crimson red. The silence of the building grated on Adam’s last nerve and muddled with his pounding head. The crowds had dispersed thirty minutes ago and the ring crew were packing-up for the night. The arena was quiet, emptying, and Adam would wait another hour before he escaped. It was safer that way, on his own.  Adam spat into the bottle again, the taste of iron at the tip of his tongue. With his thumb he checked for all his teeth. He smeared the residual spittle and sanguine onto his hip.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. The cadence of a soft heel, ring shoes, a wrestler walking at quick pace. The pattern dug at his heart, he imagined the long stride long, a one, two three, familiar from his old dreams, and more recent nightmares. The plastic water bottle crumpled beneath Adam’s grip. He studied the grout lines. Adam hid his bruised face and bloodied lips behind the arch of his shoulders. The footsteps stopped and the person hovered a few feet away, their shadow cast on the far wall. Adam ran his fingers through his hair, a small pet to soothe his raw nerves. Another shiver rolled through his spine. 

“Did something happen?” The scratch of the voice took him by the throat and throttled him. Adam’s bottom lip trembled, he ran his hand over his eyes, and forced himself to look-up. 

For six years in Adam’s memory Kenny Omega had been twenty-four years old. He was lean and thin, bones as delicate as a bird’s leg. His hair spun gold on Adam’s pillow in the morning, tight curls tangling around his placid, sleeping face. The thin wisps of a patchy beard, soft under Adam’s hand as he traced Kenny’s angular jaw with a reverent touch. Adam would turn over in bed first and run the callous of his thumb over Kenny’s pink lips. Then, kiss him awake. Kenny’s eyelashes batted against his pale cheeks and Adam loved the sky in Virginia, but he loved the pure blue of Kenny’s irises more. Those mornings, they’d shower together and wash each other’s hair. Breakfast and coffee at Waffle House as they plotted their route for the day. Adam would take the first shift and Kenny would sing to Anime OSTs from shotgun. That night, in the ring, Kenny was a maestro, and sometimes Adam would forget to make the tag because he was too busy marveling over Kenny. He was Adam’s favorite wrestler, even in his too small, ugly neon blue trunks. They’d fell asleep past midnight in a pile of tangled limbs in their cheap motel suite. With Kenny’s head on his chest, over the heart he owned, Adam didn’t know where he started and Kenny ended. 

Adam never let himself wake-up from these recollections because the next morning Kenny was gone and the bed was cold. 

But he did have to wake-up, and brought to the morning light, gold rusts, and now Kenny is thirty. His cheeks filled-out and the stubble is a full-beard. Powerful muscle broadened his chest and shoulders, laced his arms, and each time Kenny flexed in the ring, Adam lost his breath. Dark shades hid Kenny’s eyes most days and he wore leather coats like mantles. He dyed his hair silver and black, but in recent months his curls bled blonde. All of the same mannerisms of the old Kenny stayed in-tact, but more exaggerated and poignant. The flutter of his hands. How he brought his thin fingers to his chin to think. The hint of a smirk playing at his lips, or the confident swagger of his walk. Yet, a little more jagged and unclean, less pristine than how Adam remembered him. Bigger too, and bigger in a way that twisted Adam’s gut with terror. 

“Jesus, how much do you think Kenny Omega weighs now?” Some guy had mused in the locker room earlier. Adam had laced his boots a thousand times but for the first time in the past few hundred, his fingers slipped. 

“Two-hundred, two-ten, maybe,” some other guy mused. “But as far as the office is concerned, he’s two-twenty no matter what the scale says.”

Adam had tied the knot, grabbed his vest, and left. In the ring he eyed-up his opponent as the announcer billed them at two-hundred-twenty-one pounds and thought he looked about Kenny’s size. He won the match with a lariat and in the post-match interview declared he kept his promises from March after his third succesful defense of the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. This was his belt and anyone who wanted it could pry it from his cold dead hands. Snarled into the camera and barred his teeth like a viscous hound. Adam left the media room and halfway to the back, a hard object collided with his left cheek. It was a right fist and after the party of assailants finished kicking his ass, he collapsed to the floor to lick his wounds. Instead of a mean dog, Adam was a dejected, kicked puppy, cowered in a corner, whose ex was about to throw him a pity fest. 

“Who did this?” Adam repeated, that was such a stupid question, his voice rasped. He leaned back and pushed his head against the wall. He laughed and his chest seized, pain interwove with his ribs. Something was bruised, or broken, or cracked, it just hurt, he wasn’t a doctor. “You mean? You don’t know?”

He spat again and blood stained the floor. Adam reached below him and dug his fingers into the floor to find purchase. Leaned against the concrete behind him lifted himself up and to his feet. Adam wheezed and the corners of Kenny’s lips pulled downwards. Kenny stepped forward, hand out-stretched and his fingers brushed against Adam’s elbow. Adam flinched, and he stumbled back, his arms hooking around his waist like a shield. He pressed his shoulder into the wall and closed his eyes. The ringing in his head subsided and the pounding faded.

“Of course, he didn’t tell you,” Adam growled, and the smile on his mouth was fleeting. “That’s rich, that’s— fuck, I knew they were using you. I knew it all the way back in July when you stepped-up on that damn apron like a good little dog.”

Kenny reached for him again and this time Adam let him— because he used all his kick-outs in the ring earlier. Kenny pressed his palm against Adam’s cheek his touch warm and soothing. His fingertips traced the edge of Adam’s tender bruises. A sigh, soft and giving, escaped Adam’s chapped lips. He closed his eyes and took in a shuddering, stuttered breath. He leaned into Kenny’s hand and let Kenny take some of the weight off his burdened shoulders. 

“Tell me who did this to you, cowboy,” Kenny repeated, and dark malevolence dripped off every word but the last. When he threaded his other hand through Adam’s disheveled hair and let his thumb glide over the angle of Adam’s cheekbone, the touch was tender. Fuck, he knew all of Adam’s weaknesses.“Tell me, and we’ll take care of it.”

All Adam could do was laugh. “No, no you won’t, you’re not going to do shit.” He shook his head and chuckled, snarled at Kenny with bloody teeth. He yanked himself away. Smacked and batted Kenny’s hands away.  “It was your faction, the Bullet Club, that kicked my shit in. AJ Styles and the Good Brothers attacked me, you dumbass. They jumped me right after my match like chicken shit cowards.”

AJ looked so pleased with the IWGP Heavyweight he lost in his hands. He smashed the gold against Adam’s face and dropped it like lead to the floor. The belt still laid, scattered somewhere further down the hall

Kenny’s brow lifted beneath his glasses. His lips parted and then his teeth clacked closed. Kenny placed his hands on his hips. Beneath Adam’s scrutiny he fidgeted and wilted, but didn’t give. He ducked his head to his chest and then looked back up at Adam. Kenny worked his jaw like he was chewing on gristle. 

“But that’s okay,” Adam growled. He stepped in closer to Kenny but on his terms this time. Adam wavered, his balance uncertain, he had to swallow to regain his equilibrium. He jabbed his finger into Kenny’s chest, “Because you can deliver a message for me. When you see AJ, later? Tell him I hope he liked the taste of my fist in his mouth. He can attack me from behind, bring the whole Bullet Club to beat me up, bring an army if he has to, but if he wants the gold around my waist—” Adam moved his hands over his midsection to indicate the IWGP belt— “He’s going to have to step in the ring again eventually and this time, he’ll have personally. Pissed. Me. Off.”

Adam shoved Kenny’s shoulder but the pitiful thrust did nothing but make Kenny rock back on his heels. Standing a hairs breadth from Kenny, drawn to what height he could manage, Adam imagined melting Kenny’s glasses with his glare. So, that Adam could see Kenny’s eyes and the imagined fearful tremble he hoped to inspire. A failed effort as a pinch of pain in his ribs almost doubled him with groan. The last of his adrenaline dissipated and a wave of nausea washed over him. Adam reached for the wall and swallowed bile. 

“They’re not going to get away with this, Page,” Kenny assured him. His voice a low whisper, like this was a secretive promise. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re not going to do shit,” Adam barked. He coughed again and turned his chin into his shoulder. Gallows had almost put his foot through Adam’s diaphragm and probably rearranged a couple internal organs. He had to step back, reach for the wall to steady himself. “Go ahead, confront AJ, get your shit rocked too! No, you’re going to duck your head and be a good little boy just like you’ve done for the past eight months. I know you and you’re a fucking coward— me or the Bullet Club merch money, we both know which you’ll choose.”

“Adam—” And for all the years Adam had known Kenny, he never heard Kenny say his name like that. 

The vitriol in Adam’s words turned like a double edged sword and cut back into him. Poisoned by his own concoction of anger and hurt, speaking to Kenny like that tasted bitter. At first Adam built the divisions and weight classes of New Japan as a mountain between them. With each pound Kenny put-on he traversed the distance. Then, Adam laid barbed wire and tangled thorns, inscribed signs with cruel warnings he never kept. Never daunted by a little blood Kenny pressed through and all Adam was left with was regret. If his bad attitude didn’t deter Kenny then Adam’s final contingency was to turn tail and run. He took the first step, back to his hotel, back to the airport, back home, back to his dog, and his empty bed. 

Instead, Adam’s knees wobbled and the walls dislodged, spinning the room in wild angles. He collapsed against the cinderblocks and his legs gave beneath him. Instead of a hard collision with the floor, an arm wrapped around his waist. Kenny hooked his hand on Adam’s back and pulled Adam against his chest. Adam softened, tension running from his sore muscles and his bones leaning against Kenny’s bones. A content and amused chuckle rolled though Kenny’s shoulders. His warm breath tickled Adam’s ear as Kenny swept sweat soaked curls from the back of Adam’s neck. Trembling hands tangled in Kenny’s jacket and Adam realized they were his. Kenny smelled of leather, sweat, citrus, and him, just so distinctly Kenny, it made Adam’s heart ache. One vertebrae at a time Kenny trailed his fingers along Adam’s spine. Explored each ridge and bump of his back. All the new scars that marred his skin since their last night together. 

“Yeah, I got you, cowboy,” Kenny murmured. “You big, handsome chunk of hunk, I got you.”

“I hate you,” Adam muttered into Kenny’s throat. Kenny giggled and that vibration warmed something deep in Adam. 

Kenny pulled Adam’s arm around his shoulder, his hand wrapped tight to Adam’s hip. With small encouragements, he cajoled Adam into walking with him. He even stooped to pick-up the title and hand it back to Adam. It reminded Adam of when they’d stumble home from parties —Adam sometimes more tipsy than he should be— and Kenny would complain about how ‘fat’ he’d gotten. He referred to the easy muscle Adam packed on as his frame as he filled-out from lean adolescent to a full grown man, in his early twenties. That, despite being the same age, Adam weighed, twenty, thirty pounds heavier than Kenny. Now, there wasn’t a word of complaint as Kenny dragged them through the halls. He carried Adam like he weighed nothing. Adam could feel the strength and power in Kenny’s chest, shoulders, arms, and legs with each step. Kenny was much bigger and much stronger, and that terrified Adam. 

Kenny guided Adam into a locker room without any observers. The locker room was empty except for a gear bag thrown against the far corner. In the full privacy of the walls, Adam wilted. He collapsed onto a bench and his head fell into his hands, the air leaving him with a sigh. Kenny closed the door and Adam almost begged him to open it again, so they wouldn’t be alone. Instead he fought off another flash of nausea and cursed the day AJ Styles was born. While Adam devised plans of torture, Kenny riffled through his gear bag. He pulled out a bottle of water and cracked it open. Kenny took the first sip and then offered the bottle to Adam.

“Drink something,” he ordered.

“Fuck off,” Adam growled. Yet, somehow the water bottle was in his hands. 

“Be good, Page,” Kenny sang. He pushed to his feet and approached Adam. Kenny ghosted his fingers along Adam’s jaw. Adam captured his wrist in his hand but the grip lacked bite, so Kenny laughed. There was something proud in Kenny’s eyes when Adam took the first drink. Adam swished water between his teeth and washed away the taste of blood. It was like Kenny had won. Like, Adam had just admitted defeat. “There, that wasn’t so hard? Take these.”

Kenny gave Adam two Advils and Adam took them with a generous swig of water. Adam leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. He swiped his thumb over his mouth. Accepting that as an answer, Kenny shuffled off and searched through his gear bag again. The pattern on the carpet floor fascinated Adam. If he could draw his thoughts it’d be like a scribble with a dying pen. Kenny appeared in Adam’s line of sight, kneeling and looking-up into his face. He took Adam’s hand in his and Adam flinched. He attempted to snatch his hand away but Kenny tightened his hold. 

“I’m just making sure you don’t get an infection, you idiot,” Kenny snapped. He giggled to himself, “it’s not like I like you or anything.”

Adam settled and Kenny upturned a bottle of disinfectant onto a cotton ball. He dabbed the cotton to Adam’s bloodied knuckles and Adam jumped with a hiss. Kenny held firm and cleaned both of Adam’s hands. Adam watched him and how Kenny’s thin fingers wrapped around Adam’s broad palm. He remembered holding hands with Kenny and walking down town avenues, caring too little about the world around them. His heart thudded and Adam trembled again. Kenny tossed the bloodied cotton balls into the trash. With a wet rag he wiped sweat and blood from Adam’s face and chest. Then he handed Adam a change of jeans and t-shirt.

“I won’t look, I promise, well, not unless you want me to—” Kenny said with a sly grin. A look from Adam sobered him and he raised his hand. “Okay, okay, scout’s honor. I have to get dressed too, anyway.”

Adam turned his back on Kenny. He slipped out of his ring pants and traded it for Kenny’s jeans, which were a little tight for him. As Adam tugged on Kenny’s shirt —something Anime themed— he glanced over his shoulder. Kenny pulled cargo shorts over his ring gear and shrugged on a plan white crewneck. Adam’s cheeks flushed hot when Kenny caught him staring. Then, Kenny lugged his bag over one shoulder and Adam over the other. Kenny helped Adam find his gear bag in another locker room and carried that out of the arena too. They stumbled out to the curbside, where traffic criss crossed the roads and neon lights illuminated the black city night. They waited for the cab, a marvel for pedestrians to gawk at, Kenny gripping Adam’s hip and Adam unable to let go either. 

They sat on opposite sides of the cab, as far apart as the small car allowed as it weaved city traffic. The engine, horn honks, Kenny talking to the driver in quick Japanese, the city bustle, blurred in Adam’s head like a discordant song. He pressed his cheek to the car window and Kenny shook him awake when they arrived at the hotel. Bearing both bags and Adam, Kenny took Adam to his room. While Kenny put down Adam’s bag, Adam used the bathroom and slid out of Kenny’s jeans, leaving him in his boxers. He washed his face, stared into the mirror, and was shocked to see Kenny still there when he came out, peering over the cheap art on the wall. Adam tossed the jeans in his hands on top of Kenny’s bag where it sat in the main walkway. He blinked, eyes heavy, and grumbled something incomprehensible as Kenny pulled back the covers for him. Adam slipped into the bed, the mattress conforming to his aching limbs. Adam pressed his face into the cool pillow and closed his eyes, sighing softly in relief. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Adam grunted. He flipped onto his side, turning his back on Kenny. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Hmm, that face is too pretty to see all busted-up,” Kenny replied. In another life Adam pealed back the blanket and invited Kenny to his side. This would be the perfect night to cuddle Kenny and persuade him to be big spoon for once, Adam could pull some very persuasive puppy eyes— Instead he buried his nose into the pillows like a petulant child. “Aw, you’re so cute— Sleeping beauty.”

Adam turned over in bed and with a burst of energy he snatched Kenny’s wrist. Kenny’s lips parted, his hand stiff underneath Adam’s. 

“Don’t pick a fight with AJ,” Adam growled. “He’ll—”

“Oh, is that concern?” Kenny interjected, the question was mocking. He leaned forward so the front of his thighs leaned against the mattress. Now he was teasing,“Are you worried about me?”

“Shut-up,” Adam snapped. “Get the fuck out of my hotel room.”

Kenny smirked, and pulled back. Adam released his hand and turned back over onto his side. He packed the pillow underneath his head and the light clicked when Kenny turned it off. “You can keep the shirt.” Kenny laughed, high pitched and haunting, his footsteps receding towards the door. 

Adam swallowed hard and he clutched the pillow. Don’t leave, please, don’t leave. He almost rose from the bed, kicked aside the blankets, and screamed. He could beg Kenny to stay, for just one night, please. He didn’t care about the morning or whatever the hell came after, or if Kenny loved him. Let him pretend, let him be delusional and weak, with Kenny curled in his arms. Just one night and he’ll never ask for anything again. Instead his aching body and fragile mind betrayed him. He remained curled in the security of the blankets and the darkness held him safe as the latch turned. 

“Adam, when you wake-up in the morning—” Kenny’s said. He paused, and Adam could feel the hesitation curl his lips. Yet, he couldn’t imagine Kenny’s eyes beneath those shades. “No, I’ll text you.”

The door closed and Adam curled into himself. His legs pulled to his chest and he buried his face in the pillow. Adam’s hand fell to the shirt he’d forgotten he was wearing. Soft cotton bunched under his grip and his muscles tightened but he lacked the strength to rip it. Instead, Adam pulled the collar to his nose and he breathed in deep: leather, sweat, citrus, and him. The memories rushed him. Kenny whining, stretched across the blankets and pliant under Adam’s hands. Kenny the first time he kissed Adam, shy and sweet at the end of a show. Kenny and Adam throwing each other through suplexes in the ring until they were bruised. Kenny— and Adam snapped beneath the pressure.

 The realization that Kenny was moving-up to the Heavy Weight division.

The realization he was wearing Kenny’s shirt because he intentionally forgot to give it back. 

The realization that he was still in love with the man who left him six years ago.

Adam cried, deep racking sobs that shook his shoulders and pinched his ribs. Tears dampened his cheeks and he bit his palm to suppress the pitiful noises that escaped him. Adam devolved to weak hiccups and soft whimpers, until he turned on his back, his eyes squeezed shut, desperate for sleep. Unconsciousness eluded him for hours as the last ten years played out like a silver screen in the forefront of his mind. And only when he admitted that he didn’t know what he was going to do besides kick the ass of anyone who tried to take his title —because living for the next fight was how he survived the past his sixteenth birthday— did he wake-up to burning sunlight and a text message, the next morning. 

["You alive?”]

Adam, with the headache of a lifetime, every single muscle in his body screaming in pain, and uncertain if the pop in his back was a good thing, replied: 

[”yes”]