Chapter Text
“You got a room, kid?”
Yuta looked up from where he was sitting, scrolling on his phone and pressing an icepack to his neck where Moxley’s rolling elbow strike had nearly knocked him out. He’d tried to clean himself up as best he could but he could still feel the burn of the open wounds, the sting of the antiseptic, the dull throb where his body had connected with the mat and the trickle of fresh sweat running down his back. Sweat, not from exhaustion, this time. Well, not only from exhaustion.
“Hey, you with us?”
“Y-Yeah. I mean, yes, I’ve got a room. I’m good.”
“No, you don’t.”
Bryan entered their private locker room, freshly showered, tailed by Mr. Regal. His tone was sharp, almost irritated and Yuta tried to find the strength to tell him that no actually, he had a room, he was just about to book it when Mox had interrupted him, and no he can’t afford it, but what he can afford even less is staying on the Best Friend’s couch again or worse, bothering his new stable mates with inconsequential bullshit like this. Bryan, unbeknownst that he’d just seen right through his little deception, busied himself putting his gear away, and Regal’s icy blue eyes turned to Yuta, who sat up just a bit straighter. No matter how much his body protested, he wanted to make a good first impression on these men. Though, Regal’s graze had lost much of the fury he’d been met with in the ring. The man seemed calmer now, behind locked doors, with Mox and Bryan.
“How the fuck do you know?”
“Language, Master Moxley!” Regal admonished, though Mox merely rolled his eyes.
“Look at him, of course he doesn’t have a room.”
Alright now that stung a bit. It seemed Bryan was as effortlessly vicious inside the ring as he was outside the ring. He almost preferred the precision of the kicks to his casual verbal cruelty. At least it was better than pity. Yuta swallowed, glaring at the half-folded gear in his lap. His shaking fingers found the patch of decorative vinyl that was slowly separating from the stretchy spandex and kept peeling. It felt good, not as good as digging his nails into his own skin, but he couldn’t do that here, not in front of the guys. So he indulged this way. He’d fix it later. He would.
“No matter, the young man will stay with us, and I’ll handle the room bookings from here on out.”
Regal turned to him, eyes apologetic.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to room with either Bryan or Jonathan tonight, young lad.”
Bryan looked like he wanted to jump up and say something, already poised for another scathing comment, but a wave of Regal’s hand silenced him.
“As for me, I’m afraid I must simply insist on rooming alone tonight. My back, you see, it does not agree with sharing a bed.”
Yuta was almost certain he could hear both Jon and Bryan snort at that, but when Regal’s gaze turned back to them, they quickly quieted down.
“Well then, who will it be?”
Regal leaned in, all conspiratorially, like one might do with a small child, when they were trying to convince them that an ultimately meaningless decision held some merit. Yuta looked from Bryan to Mox, weighing his options. Jon had not pulled his punches while they were in the ring, but at least he’d been able to prove his worth to him. Bryan on the other hand… Spitting in his face 2 weeks ago may have not been his wisest decision.
“I’ll… I’ll room with Mox, if that’s okay, sir.”
Besides, the match they had might’ve tired him out. Maybe all he would want to do was take another shower and fall asleep. Maybe. He could survive one night. Probably. Mr. Regal nodded, and he saw Mox gleefully lean in to whisper something into Bryan’s ear, which somehow caused the man’s sour expression to get even worse.
“Well then, that’s our sleeping arrangements sorted. Shall we?”
Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Regal turned and Mox followed at his heels like an obedient guard dog. Yuta pushed to his feet, grabbed his gear bag, haphazardly stuffing his tights into it.
“Fold them properly.”
Yuta froze, tights still balled up in his hand, and looked up. Bryan was propping the locker room door open and eyeing him with the same annoyed expression he’d worn since he walked into the room. A shiver ran down his spine. They were alone. Regal was gone and so was Mox. And the only exit was blocked by the American Dragon. If-
“Come on, we don’t have all night.”
Now that snapped right Yuta out of his stupor. He’d never focused so hard on folding his clothes, all the while he could feel Bryan’s eyes on him. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek and dropped onto his freshly folded gear. He wondered if Bryan would comment on that too. Dig into him and tear him apart.
He should.
He didn’t.
“Great, let’s go.”
He still hesitated for a second when he got to the threshold, convinced that the American Dragon holding the door open for him was some grand tactic to catch him off guard and make sure he understood that he was at the very bottom of the pack. And for a second he wondered if he should tell Danielson that he’s well aware of where he stood in the pecking order. There was Regal at the top, then Bryan and Mox, then a whole lot of nothing and then, somewhere at the lowest possible level, down at the very bottom, there was Yuta. He got it.
Instead, he shouldered his bag and stepped over the threshold, following Bryan to the garage where a massive black SUV was parked, blocking the loading bay. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a bunch of interns looking around nervously, yet none had the gall to approach Regal about it. Yeah, he couldn’t blame them. He just hoped he hadn’t inconvenienced either group. He couldn’t afford to piss off the people managing logistics or the head of his new stable. Should he survive the night.
Bryan propped open the door and nodded for him to get in, but not before rather forcefully but not entirely unkindly grabbing his gear bag right out of his sweaty hand and depositing it into the trunk of the car. Regal was in the driver’s seat, trying to figure out how to work the car’s GPS and muttering something about modern technology and “back in my day we used a map”. Mox was already inside, noisily chewing some gum, one leg bouncing with somehow still unreleased energy, but when he saw him a stupidly charming grin spread across his face,
“There y’are! When you weren’t right behind us, I thought Bryan had scared ya off. Where’s dragon, anyways?”
“Right here,” Bryan answered, sliding into the passenger seat in front of Mox, “put our stuff in the trunk. Kid needs a new gear bag, and some new gear, his stuff is falling apart.”
Yuta wanted to protest, say that he’d fix it himself and if it wasn’t fixable that he would get a replacement. With money, he did not have. Right. So he shut his mouth and tried not to meet Bryan’s gaze as he stared at him through the rearview mirror.
“Thank you, dear, I shall put it on the list once we’re safely at the- Ah, I’ve got it now!”
The car roared to life and the navigation system announced gleefully that the trip to the hotel would take them less than twenty minutes. Enough time to calm himself down before he’d have to spend the night in Moxley’s room. Or so he thought, because Bryan. Kept. Staring. At. Him. And he didn’t even have the decency to be subtle about it. His piercing blue eyes stared right at him, even more piercing in the dark of the car. Bryan was looking him over, had been ever since he stepped into the ring with him and a week ago he had actually thought, no, hoped that he would live up to impress him. Oh, he was so stupid. So stupid to think that he would ever be able to compete with the American Dragon. He took the pain well, he hurt well, his bridges were clean, and still he’d never be able to meet these men’s standards. And still they agreed to let him join the Blackpool Combat Club.
“Bry?”
“Hm?”
“Stop fucking staring. You’re creeping me out.”
Bryan clicked his tongue and Yuta forced himself to maintain eye contact, unwilling to back down now. He may have lost today. He definitely failed to live up to Bryan’s expectations, whatever they may be. And he will probably disappoint the club in the future, just based on his track record. And though just the thought of that made him want to throw up what scraps he’d been able to get at catering, he swallowed his fear and sat up straight. With a displeased “hmph” Bryan looked away. At least he won this one.
A sea of streetlights passed them by, illuminating the car in one second and pitching it back into pitch-black darkness in another. There were no stars to light the way, the brightness of Boston’s itself drowning out the night sky. Only the cold white light of modern leds lining empty streets. Yuta thought of a line he’d read in a book somewhere. “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me”. Kerouac, probably. Sounds like Kerouac, or what little he could remember of his. This felt like something straight out of “On The Road”. From the first few pages, when its protagonist was still filled with optimism. Or should’ve been. A new adventure. The lights of the arena dimming in the distance, the lights of the city getting brighter and brighter. There’s something poetic in that.
“Alright, boys, there we are,” Regal muttered, pulling into the hotel’s parking garage.
The car backed into an open parking space, and this time it was Regal that looked at them through the rearview mirror.
“Young Master Yuta, is your luggage still with Mr. Taylor and Mr. Cassidy? I’m afraid it’s rather late, we might have to wait until morning to collect it. Let’s see,” Regal caressed his chin, deep in thought, one thumb gently tapping his upper lip where his scar was.
In the dim glow of car’s cockpit lights, with the way his hair curled in wisps at the front, he looked every bit like the street brawler turned gentleman villain he’d heard so much about. Even now, even sitting in a massive SUV, he looked broad and strong and strangely… safe. Regal had never been anything but professional with him, even praising him during his fight with Danielson. So what if he wrote down timestamps for that match, so what if he screen-recorded the bits where Regal’s comments were nice, so what if he took a screenshot of Bryan smiling down on him. So what? And if he listened to Regal’s comments right before he fell asleep a few times, to calm him down, who was going to tell the man? Not him. That was his pathetic secret to keep.
“Bryan, my dear, you wanted to head out anyway, didn’t you? To buy some personal hygiene products that you ran out of?”
“I didn’t run out, Sir, Jon used it all.
“It’s nice soap.”
“It’s an artisanal vegan coffee scrub, Jon.”
“Yeah. S’nice soap.”
“Bryan,” Regal sighed exasperated, “would you be so inclined as to pick up some essentials for the young lad?”
Bryan looked at him again, his gaze still just as piercing as before. The light that softened Regal seemed to only make Bryan appear sharper.
“Any allergies?”
Yuta shook his head, suddenly feeling every bit as tired as he should feel, having lost all that blood. The adrenaline that’s been surging through his body seemed to have finally run out, and all that’s left is this agonizing gaping void. He just wanted to sleep.
“Shall we?” Regal asked, chipper as ever.
Yuta just nodded, already half asleep, got out of the car and opened Regal’s door, mainly on autopilot, and because he was closest and because a bit of courtesy never hurt anyone, right? Wrong, if the look on Bryan’s face was anything to go by. He wasn’t even trying and still he kept irritating him. And doing what exactly? Packing his gear wrong? Being considerate to Regal? Spitting in his- Alright yes, that last one definitely. He didn’t have the energy to dwell on Bryan’s dour expression, though so he just swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Oh, thank you, lad.”
Regal smiled at him, tilting his head just slightly, so his sugar wisps fell softly onto his forehead. A strong yet soft hand patted him on the shoulder encouragingly, warm and gentle, pulling him along towards the trunk. The parking garage was thick with the residual heat of the day, and the ever prevalent stench of gasoline made him lightheaded. He was bone tired.
“Let us head upstairs and get you to bed, hm? You did remarkably well today.”
Yuta allowed himself to be pulled along to the elevators, acutely aware that he wasn’t holding his gear bag. Oh well, he’d leave it in the car then. He’d get it tomorrow. They squeezed into the elevator, pressed tightly against each other, as the space was just slightly too small for 4 grown men. Yuta inadvertently leaned closer to Regal, the man’s hand hadn’t left his arm the entire time. Protective. He smelled of cinnamon and bergamot. He smelled safe.
“He lost.”
Bryan’s cold voice cut right through the cozy warmth clouding his thoughts. The lump in his throat grew a bit larger. His eyes landed on Bryan, and he saw the fraying edges of the strap of his gear bag slung over his shoulder right next to Bryan’s pristine one. So the guy he kept pissing off was carrying his gear now. Was he waiting till they passed a trash chute or-
“Of course he did. I expected him to. It is no easy feat to best our Mox, as I myself can attest to.”
Regal rubbed his ear, smiling fondly over to Jon, who was trying to hide a sheepish smile himself. He remembered that match. Florida Championship Wrestling. There was a spot, Yuta thought hazily. Jon had stomped on Regal’s head. They had to stop the match.
“He’s beaten you too, hasn’t he? When was that, again?”
“Ah, about a month ago, at Revolution, Lordship.”
Jon tried to mask his glee with nonchalance, but even Yuta, nearly dead on his feet, could hear the joy through the veneer of disinterest.
“Ah yes, so it was. A good match. From both of you. I would not have expected anything less. Besides, the lad was not pinned and neither was he submitted. The referee chose to end the match, as was his right, though I myself would’ve given him another minute.”
Bryan scoffed, but instead of verbally retaliating, simply fixed Yuta with another stare and adjusted the strap on his shoulder.
“But he showed tenacity. Pins and submissions we can teach him, but that hunger I saw in that ring, now that we can’t.”
That seemed to be the end of that. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, revealing more and more carpeted floors and beige walls and nondescript stock image paintings. Suddenly their little group stopped and Yuta all but bumped into Bryan. He murmured a quick apology, but before Bryan could make another accurate yet cruel remark about his in-ring abilities, he was tugged against Jon’s broad chest and helped to the bed. Or dragged. Across the room, he could see Bryan drop his gear bag unceremoniously near the door. Not down a garbage chute. Small victories.
“There’s a good lad. Rest. He should-Ah yes, thank your Bryan.”
A glass of water appeared on the nightstand next to his head, but he couldn’t find the strength to lift himself back up and reach for it. No matter how thirsty he might be.
“We’ll give him a second, but we cannot allow him to doze off before he’s finished that. Master Danielson, you’ve got your orders.”
“Yessir.”
“Good lad. Master Moxley and I will keep young Wheeler here comfortable until your imminent return.”
And didn’t that sound ominous.
It turns out, keeping him comfortable meant watching an old rerun of coronation street on the hotel’s TV while Jon took another much longer shower. Both had helped him into a sitting position, Regal taking a more supervisory role, directing Jon to fluff his pillow just right before leaning back and pulling out his small on-the-road first aid kit, filled to the brim with band-aids, bandages and salves with dubious best-before-dates. But Yuta was not about to complain. He’d been quietly nursing his water while Regal patched him up. For once allowing himself to be babied. Might as well indulge, now that Bryan’s gone.
“All done, lad, you did well. I’m afraid I’ll be taking my leave of you now, but don’t fret, Bryan should be back any second.”
Great. He might not even make it through the night. With his luck, Bryan was going to waltz into this room while the others were asleep and throw him out. As he should. He still had no idea what compelled him to pick him for this stable. His dejection must’ve shown on his face, because Regal leaned in conspiratorially, a soft smile on his face.
“Just remember, he picked you first.”
And then the older man winked at him. He winked. He must’ve lost a lot more blood than he previously thought. Because for a second there, Yuta thought Regal might lean in to kiss him. To take his payment for being so kind to him, for patching him up, for letting him join. And for an even shorter, more dangerous second, Yuta wished he had.
“Sleep well, young Wheeler.”
And with an encouraging pat on his blanket-covered shin, Regal stood, popped his head into the bathroom to say goodnight to Jon as well, and once his hair had been well and truly affected by the moisture emanating from the bathroom, left them both. Barely a minute later, Jon emerged from the bathroom, wearing some sweatpants and viciously rubbing the water out of his hair with a towel. Somehow, the gruffness of it all reminded him of the way a dog shakes off after having been in the rain.
“S’nice to feel human again, ya know. Nothing beats a hot shower after a long day. And the water pressure at the arena is such a joke. Hell, you’d be lucky if those old-ass pipes manage to get the water warm enough for ya.”
Jon threw himself onto the bed the same way he performed an elbow drop in the ring, and Yuta couldn’t suppress a wince.
“Hey, you good kid?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Long day. Sorry.”
“Oh fuck, yeah right. Man, what a match, huh? Sorry about… all that. Hey, let me call Bryan, don’t know what’s taking him so long. Man, I fucking hope he didn’t go to the farm fresh free-range soap store.”
Mox pulled out his phone and had Bryan’s number dialed before Yuta was even able to open his mouth to protest. His lips, red from the heat of the shower, curled into a self-indulgent smile as he pointedly ignored Yuta’s panicked gestures.
“Hey Bry, yeah no, everything’s good. Kid’s fine. Patched him up good. Nah. His Lordship is already in bed. Watched an episode of coronation stre- It was a rerun, calm down. Hey, like, where are you right now? Kid’s getting tired.”
“I’m good!”
“Oh yeah, he’s a real handful, all demanding ‘n shit. Hey is that why you wanted him in the BCC? Cuz he’s just like you? Makes sense. Sorry Bry, you’re breaking up. Gotta hang up now. Bye. Love you too!”
Mox looked at him, eyes bright and tongue in cheek, like a child that deliberately put his hand in the cookie jar to get a reaction.
“Sorry bout that. Love riling him up. Probably earned us a few extra bridges at tomorrow’s training, though. He’s mean like that.”
Yuta just nodded, resigned that The American Dragon was simply never going to like him. Or be impressed by him. Or see anything of value in him. At this rate, he wouldn’t make it past a week in this stable. And when they inevitably discarded him, who was he going to turn to? He had no one left. He had to make this work. He just had to. This was his last chance.
“So, like… how does this work? With the room and stuff?”
“Oh yeah, so, Regal’s room is down the hall, Bry’s right next door, so if you wanna switch roommates, you can. S’just… Bry and I don’t really mesh, sleep wise. And, ya know, I got no problem sharing the bed, but if you don’t want to I completely get that. Listen, I’m just gonna be an ass right now and pull rank cuz my back hurts like a motherfucker. The damage from one night on a hotel couch is gonna take me a week of Danielson’s yoga stretches to fix, and I really don’t feel like giving him that satisfaction. So if you don’t feel like sharing, the couch is over there.”
So that was… A whole lot of nothing. Yuta bit his lip and took another sip of water just to give his mouth something to do. To prevent himself from saying something stupid.
“So like… we don’t…”
Jon stared at him for a second, eyes darting around the room as if to search for the missing components to make his sentence make sense. Then suddenly-
“Oh. Oh. Right. Uh. Hey, kid, you’re cute n’all but like. My head is fucking killing me and on any other day I’d be like… on that. But it’s been a hell of a week and I just wanna sleep. S’that okay with ya?”
Yuta just nodded, mutely. On one hand, he couldn’t believe his luck, he’d get to sleep in a bed tonight, no payment necessary. On the other, maybe the payment for the room had been postponed. Maybe another member of the group would come to collect. Maybe it was all a huge game to get him nice and relaxed and then, when he least expected it-
“You good, kid?”
Jon had leant down to catch his gaze, head perched on an elbow.
“I’m not saying we don’t want ya, we do, I’m just tired, man. You really gave me a run for my money. But… I mean, we can still cuddle and kiss or whatever. I’m just not really up for anything more. I mean, Lord knows we used to fuck like rabbits back in my day. No idea where the hell we got the energy from.”
Yuta exhaled, took another sip of his water, and let go of the blanket he’d grabbed onto like a lifeline halfway through Mox’ rant. Kissing. He could do that. And cuddling. He could do that too. So he nodded, placing the half-full glass of water on his bedside table and, with his hands clasped in his lap to stop them from shaking, leant down to slowly press his lips to Moxley’s.
The first thing he noticed was how soft Moxley’s lips were. Soft and warm. He smelled of the hotel’s own 3-in-1 soap and some expensive beard oil which he’d smelled on Danielson during their match as well. Mox tilted his head and opened his mouth a little, slotting their heads together perfectly. He tasted of toothpaste and his post-match cigarette and something else entirely, something warm and uniquely Mox. It was nice, one of the best kisses he’d ever had, only rivaled by Eddie’s quick pecks on the nose during their time on the indies. Only because Eddie’s kisses never came with any expectation attached to them. They were just quick bursts of adoring energy. Mox kisses felt like a promise. Of more to come, of future payments.
Suddenly, the door clicked open.
“Oh, don’t mind me.”
Yuta pulled back as if Moxley’s lips had burnt him, his eyes now solely focused Bryan, who had turned his back to them and was absentmindedly placing whatever he deemed “essentials” with a little more force than strictly necessary onto the little desk next to the door. That seemed to include a body wash, a conditioner, a shampoo, a deodorant and a body lotion all vegan and made without animal testing if the label was to be believed, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some recycled bamboo cotton boxershorts and socks of the same brand, a hairbrush, a moisturizer and an organic, vegan protein bar. All of which exceeded his weekly budget and would put a significant dent into his non-existent savings.
“I-I can’t afford that.”
Bryan scoffed and looked from Yuta to the stuff he’d bought.
“Right.”
Then turned around to continue putting the various bottles on “his side” of the shelf in the bathroom.
“No, no wait, I’m serious, there’s no way I can afford that.”
Yuta was halfway out of bed when Moxley tried to grab him to pull him back, barely noticed Jon quietly muttering “let it go, kid” before he rushed after Bryan into the bathroom. The door slammed shut, trapping them both in the lingering warmth.
“Kid-”, Bryan began, arranging his new collection of toiletries on the counter.
“No, please, I can’t… I really can’t accept this. Listen-”
“No, you listen,” Bryan interrupted, turning around, cheeks flushed with the residual heat after Jon’s piping hot shower, “you’re gonna take what we give you. This little pity party is not going to work on me. I’m not Jon. I’m not William. You may have been able to bat your eyelashes at them and have them at your beck and call, but not me, kid. You’re going to earn your place here. Starting tomorrow.”
Yuta swallowed, staring at the tiles under his naked feet and letting Bryan’s words wash over him. Just a minute ago he’d been tucked into bed, cosy, kissing Jon and starting to believe that things would not be so bad here. And now, as the American Dragon lined things out for him, as his hands grew more cold and clammy by the second, as sweat ran down his neck and into his shirt, he started to realize just how wrong he was.
“Now brush your teeth and go to sleep.”
Yuta nodded, still only daring to look at his feet. He saw Bryan’s shoes leave his peripheral, and only when he heard the bathroom door click shut did he dare look up again. His reflection in the mirror looked awful. Face pale and eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. Just the thought of what Bryan’s reaction would’ve been had he started crying, had him holding onto the bathroom sink for dear life. His eyes fell onto the neatly arranged bottles, displayed in a perfect line. With shaky hands, he reached out to unpack the bamboo toothbrush, then just as shakily applied toothpaste to it. He swallowed, staring at it, as if it held the secrets of the universe or at least the secret to how to get Bryan off his back, then decided he could at least do as he’s told.
You’re going to earn your place here.
Maybe he should’ve dropped to his knees and sucked him off right then and there. But he had said tomorrow, so that would’ve most likely only made him angrier. Tomorrow it is then.
He splashed some cold water onto his face and tried to get his breathing under control and then, once he had forced himself to calm down, walked back out to Jon, who’d already turned off most of the lights and was snoring softly. For a moment, he looked at the couch and weighed his options. Either curl up with Jon or sleep on the couch.
Might as well. In for a penny, in for a pound. He slid under the covers next to Jon and tried not to flinch as the man, still soundly asleep, curled up against him, one giant arm draped over his waist, mouth pressing a tiny kiss against his neck. And then, only then, did he allow himself to cry.