"ITVR: Chapter 39"
Arguments.
By Jadedoll, Penumbren, & Raising Kane
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Chris gently maneuvered Adam into the med bay, his arm supporting much of the man's weight, but desperately trying not to put undue pressure on his ribs. When his lover had shaken off the offer of a stretcher, Chris had felt a sharp burst of exasperation with Adam's stubbornness, quickly squelched by concern as well as�the small voice in the back of his mind calling him a hypocrite. No-one in this line of work wanted to be stretchered anywhere if they could help it, least of all Chris. So he'd held the too-shaky arm and let Adam climb to his feet under his own power. He'd seen the pained expression on the white face he'd come to care so much for and stifled another surge of anger at the�son of a bitch responsible for it. After twenty-three agonising steps, steps CJ thought would be etched into his memory of things he never wanted to experience again, Sandburg released his hold on Adam's other shoulder then�moved quickly to arrange the room's just arrived equipment for a full examination. "Nearly there Babe, then I promise you can sit down for as long as you want." Watching Adam sit on the�padded table, Chris ran a critical blue eye over the lean body before him. Adam was curving inwards around his torso, unconsciously protecting the injured area with his arms and shoulders. No longer focusing on the walk, he'd dropped his head, trying and failing, to take slow, deep even breaths. The fact that he was breathing at all, made CJ fairly sure he didn't have a punctured lung or something equally as nasty. He'd hit the wall hard, no question, but thankfully not that hard. "Okay Adam, first I want to check your lungs again, so�can we unbutton your shirt?" As Sandburg began his exam, including how deep a breath Adam could take, what�places hurt like hell when he pressed them�and if the red areas on his back were going to become more than just incredibly colourful bruising, Chris stood exactly two feet away with his finger intertwined with his lover's. CJ couldn't count the number of times he'd stood in a room very similar to this one, hearing the same questions being asked and answered, by his friends, co-workers and often himself. It was never pleasant, but it was part of their job and one every man and woman who stepped into the ring had come to terms with. But this was different, this wasn't a bump gone wrong or a spot blown, this was his lover in pain and Chris found he hated this routine with a vengeance right now. When Sandburg was done with Adam's chest, CJ took his place and tried to hold those glassy emerald eyes with his own while the cut at the back of his head was examined. "Hey Beautiful, you still with me?" Adam's answer was cut off by a wince as their EMT probed a little too deeply into the head wound. Chris didn't think it was the endearment he'd let slip that'd caused Sandburg's reaction. The man had seen every body part of every wrestler and apart from being distinctly unimpressed by the experience, knew exactly what they all got up to, if not exactly who with. Although one wrestler having a freak out while another was getting a bruised knee checked wouldn't have been too hard to decipher by someone with more than a single brain cell. "Just superficial in the back here Adam. It won't need stitches just a sealer and some Advil. Now look me in the eye please," going through the concussion tests, CJ knew the answer the same moment Sandburg did. Mild at least, but still concussion. A hell of a headache, some dizziness, watch for numbness, nausea, vomiting, large pupils, mental confusion, and memory problems etcetera, etcetera. Must be woken regularly for checks over the next twenty-four hours but the rest of the time bed rest and liquid diet. As for the three cracked ribs... rest, big surprise there, deep breathing sessions every day, apply heat for pain relief and no work for the next two weeks. Yeah right. Chris didn't believe that any more than Sandburg did saying it They'd all worked damaged before and all would again. Chris had wrestled with a broken arm for god's sake, not that he would again, but two weeks rest translated as two days in the wrestling fraternity. Still, just because CJ would be an idiot, didn't mean Adam had to join the club. Now that his lover's injuries were identified as treatable, Chris felt that horrible hollow feeling in his gut disappear, leaving him shaky with relief. "So bed rest and invalid watch for two weeks? How should I amuse myself in that time I wonder?" Chris allowed a hell of a lot of innuendo to colour his anger roughened voice. From where he�was writing up his mandatory report for Patterson, Sandburg unsuccessfully stifled a snort. Chris ignored him. **** "Going somewhere?" It was the disappointment lacing the deep voice more than the anger that had Jeff feeling like something that had crawled out from under a rock. Why he let Mark's opinion matter was beyond him right now, it just did matter. The warm, strong hand was on his shoulder again and Jeff fought an irrational urge to lean up into that strength like a cat getting it's ears scratched. Jeeses Jeff, get a grip man! Mark was pissed at him for fuck's sake, now was not the time to turn into SlutJeff. What he really wanted, even more than that touch, was to erase the offended expression he found in those compelling dark green eyes. He could lie, say he'd been looking for Mark? But Jeff knew that wouldn't wash, he was�a terrible liar and he knew it. Even all the lying to himself he'd done lately hadn't armed him better at doing it face to face. So go with honesty then. Just leave out the bits that make him look bad and he'd�be fine. "No... yes. But just to find Ames 'Taker,�she hasn't called Matt in weeks and he's all set to come over, fucked knee an' all, just in case someone's getting in her pants while he's down." Jeff didn't like the pleading note in his voice, not one bit. Despite his resolution of honesty, he didn't need to explain himself to Mark,�the only person who could claim that power was thousands of miles away and a hell of a lot shorter.�But Mark had always, right from the first moment he and Matt had been introduced to the 'Legend' had a strange effect on Jeff. Mark saw too much with those forest green eyes, so much so that Jeff had literally stopped meeting the man's gaze during their program. Mark had asked him politely to do so during matches so he could time himself, but apart from that Jeff had hidden behind his hair. Hey he was Jeff, it was his job to be moody and obscure. Besides,�s'not like the big man gave Jeff even the slightest hint of what his motives where. Why should Jeff be such an open book, when Mark could be reviewing his taxes right now for all Jeff knew. "'Taker c'mon... " Seeing no hint of reprieve in Mark's face, Jeff decided to go into the offensive. Moving inside the arm still reaching to his shoulder, Jeff grabbed two handfuls of black vest and pulled Undertaker back down the hall and into the man's dressing room. He felt like a tug-boat dragging a cargo liner, but Jeff was nothing if not tenacious and after a moment of resistance he claimed victory. It was instinct and raging hormones that had Jeff taking note of the feel of the fabric under his fingers and the sharp smell of sweat and�sandalwood that was uniquely the Undertaker. Jeff's mind registered that Mark had been working out before they'd met in the hallway, images of long, tattooed arms and black clad legs, moving in a slow repetitive rhythm, causing the smaller man to drop his hands and take a step out of Mark's personal space before he did something so stupid, he'd probably end up dead. "See now, I didn't leave. It was just a figment of your imagination." Gesturing at himself and then the room at large, Jeff settled his hands on his hips in a cocky pose that drove his mother nuts. "Now why exactly am I waiting like a good dog for his master's return with slippers in mouth and eyes all glowing with expectation?" **** "Nearly there Babe, then I promise you can sit down for as long as you want." Sit down? Was sitting down a good thing? He wasn't so sure at the moment. Although sitting down meant he wasn't going to fall down and that would probably be a good thing. Concentrating on his breathing kept his mind off the pain and the dizziness, at least for the moment. He'd had worse injuries, but the nature of how he'd ended up with the ones he had now had him burning for a little payback. Doubtful he'd get it though. McMahon would have his head on a platter if he went after the little bastard. Chris was okay and that's all that mattered right now. During the exam, Chris' touch kept him grounded. The poking and prodding by Sandburg hurt of course, but not nearly as badly as it would have without Chris by his side. He knew that he had a concussion because of the stupid dizziness he was experiencing though Sandburg hadn't confirmed it yet. Apparently he had some cracked ribs, but as long as they weren't broken then he could live with it. At least his vision was clearing up rapidly so he could make out Chris' features much better now. Once Sandburg had finished with his ribs and Chris was standing in front of him, he tried to focus on the pretty blue wells that appeared in front of him. He loved Chris' eyes. So blue, so full of emotion, so... ow fuck. Superficial? Good. That meant he wasn't in danger of what was left of his brains leaking out. Adam sat through the concussion tests, Sandburg confirming what he'd already known. Listening to the list of directions the man rattled off made his head hurt a bit. Two weeks? Yeah, right. Not when he had a match on Sunday and one on Monday as well. Four days... two weeks... was there a difference? He'd be thankful for the Advil if the man would just give it to him. Instead Sandburg wandered off to fill in his report for the moment. Paperwork... the bane of all humanity. "So bed rest and invalid watch for two weeks? How should I amuse myself in that time I wonder?" Despite the way his head was starting to ache, he smiled. "I can think of a few things to keep you occupied." God, he was such a slut. Actually come to think of it... a little making out might be just the thing to make him feel better. Though he'd have to hold that thought until they made it somewhere else. Sandburg would probably prefer not to be a witness to their antics. "Although you're only going to have to worry about four days, not two weeks. I've got matches on Sunday and Monday." Before Chris could open his mouth to object and for some odd reason Adam had known he was going to, despite the fact that Chris had worked injured himself on occasion, he hurried on to reassure Chris that he would be fine. "I can't not do the match on Sunday. It's a pay per view, Chris. Besides, we'll only be out there for about ten minutes before Glen shows up with..." "What the hell happened to you?" Adam's head snapped in the direction of the now open door when he heard Benoit's voice. Bad move. His head swam for a moment before he managed to focus on the man's face. "Hey Benny. Terry happened," he said with a shrug, wincing when it pulled at his ribs. "He didn't appreciate me pointing out that he stuffs his shorts and used me for target practice. I need you to do me a favor, Chris." Seeing the question in Benoit's eyes, even though it wasn't voiced, Adam continued. "I need you to go tell Vince not to scrap the match on Sunday. I'd do it myself, but I have to wait for Sandburg to tape me up and glue me back together," he said rolling his eyes. The man could hurry, but it was Sandburg so he wouldn't. "As goofy as Grenier and Conway are outside the ring, they won't do anything purposefully to aggravate my ribs. I trust Glen not to drop me on my head, so I can still do the match. You'll be in there half the time anyway." He could tell that Benoit wasn't really convinced, but he still had another match to talk him into. "Monday I'm working with you and Chris. Flair and Batista don't worry me and as much as Orton is a cocky little shit, he's not going to intentionally go for my ribs either. Then if Chris insists," he smiled at his lover standing before him, "I'll stay in bed for an entire week except for going to the bathroom. I swear." Hopefully, that would pacify Chris. If not, he would argue it until he was blue in the face. He'd already taken so much time off for his neck injury that working with cracked ribs and a concussion seemed like a cakewalk. He did not want to sit home again. There was a deeper-rooted issue there that he wasn't willing to face at the moment. He'd think through it later. Right now... he grabbed Chris' hands, intent on convincing him that he would be okay, when he noticed Chris wince. Lifting his hands, he looked at the one Chris was attempting to free from his grasp. His voice cracked as he spoke. "Did he do this?" **** Frowning a little as he followed Scott, Kevin wondered if Nitro really had his lover that worked up. Yeah, the little punk needed a lesson, but why was Scotty so affected by him? Almost concerned at the distant air Scott was putting off, he didn't even realise where they were heading until Scott stopped. Catching sight of the initials on the temporary plaque, Kevin returned Scott's grin as they walked in; Bradshaw had never been a favourite to start with, and fucking with him now would just be more entertainment for the evening. Spotting the plush couch against the side wall as Scott pulled him toward it, he had to smile. Being a big name backstage had its little perks, and that couch looked like just the thing for his aches. He sat down gingerly, aware of the still-present pains from earlier, before laying back and stretching out with a loud sigh. Now this he could get used to. Hell, maybe he'd add a rider to their contract demanding a nice couch in every locker room. That thought made him snort with quiet laughter, although watching Scott pace back and forth worried him a little. "And now, chico.. .the reason I brought you in here..." A perplexed eyebrow climbed up his forehead at the odd look on Scott's face. He thought he'd managed to calm Scott down...? And then Scott was on top of him... Kev's hands wrapped around Scott before he realised what he was doing, his surprised groan muffled by Scott's lips on his, growling from the sharp tugs on his hair and the press of Scott's body against his. He pushed his hips upward, seeking more contact, and couldn't stop the breathless whimper that tumbled out of his mouth when Scott pulled away, an evil sparkle in his eye. "Now about some of those 'things' I need to get my hands on." The slow slide of Scott's hand down his chest made Kevin shift underneath Scott, trying to get the tantalisingly light pressure firmer. Realising as Scott's hand left his hair that he could touch, too, he slid his hands down Scott's back to grab his ass, squeezing as he pushed Scott's hips down while he bucked upward. He wasn't quite ready to follow through on the groping, but he suspected that wasn't Scott's intent. Leaning upward, he sucked one of Scott's earlobes into his mouth, bathing it thoroughly with his tongue before sucking on it, biting it sharply before releasing it. He licked a path down Scott's throat, relishing the taste. A sudden firm touch to his half-hard shaft forced a moan out of him that was nearly Scott's name as he threw his head back before meeting Scott's eyes, his own gone wide and dark from the rising pleasure working its way through him. **** The heated water sluicing over his body drew a deep groan of pleasure from him, at the same time washing away the sweat from his workout and at least temporarily the nastiness of what had just happened in the hall. He would stop to check on Chris and Adam later, just to make sure everything was okay there. For now though, the trickle of water was turning his thoughts. As he poured some soap into his hands and ran them over his body, the contrast between his own touch and the water was raising some issues... literally. It wasn't that he'd just came from a room where Shawn and Hunter were both stripping off their clothes... no, of course not. His skin was so sensitive, aching for their touch, that the slightest touch of his own hands sent shards of pleasure dancing across his nerve endings even as he was wishing it was their hands on his body. He really needed to get a grip. Thinking about the bronzed skin of Hunter's sculpted chest and the sun-kissed skin of Shawn's, he groaned. That was not helping matters. Any minute they'd be in here and they'd be sure to notice the effect it was having on him. He'd waited this long to touch, he could wait longer. You didn't really wait though, did ya Dave? Dave scowled at the inner voice as he rinsed the soap from his body. No he hadn't been able to wait. He was happy he hadn't. He could still remember the taste of Shawn's skin, the scent and taste of his release, and the taste of Hunter's mouth when he kissed him after. Maybe if he soaked his head it would steer his thoughts in another direction. Tilting his head back into the water, eyes closed, he started rinsing the soap from his hair. He hadn't heard anyone come in, but suddenly there were hands touching him at his hip and his neck. Dave was drawn back to reality swiftly, his body jerking in surprise. At least he'd managed not to fall on his ass... that was something. He recognized the touch, but couldn't fathom why he was on the receiving end of it right now. Surely Shawn didn't mean to... All thoughts fled as Shawn's mouth covered his own. Instinctively he returned the kiss, shuddering at the sound Shawn made as their lips parted. His muscles danced underneath Shawn's searching fingers and he tensed slightly, biting his lip on a moan as Shawn's fingers wrapped around his length. As much as he'd imagined this, it felt ten times as good as he could have imagined. His eyes widened as Shawn spoke and he realized that Shawn did indeed mean to do this here and now. Before he could even think to object, Shawn was on his knees in front of him and he could feel his body tensing in anticipation of what was coming. He watched Shawn's tongue sliding over his lips and he stifled another moan. Then that agile pink tongue was brushing over the head of his cock and he forgot about any need for quiet. Strange... that wasn't usually an issue with him during intimacy. Obviously it was going to be different with Shawn, he realized as a husky moan fell from his lips. And Hunter... where was...? Dave eyes followed Shawn's gaze to the man standing off to the side. He shuddered and reached with one hand for the wall for support. As much as he'd dreamed about them separately, except for the dream he'd had last night... was it such a short time ago? Except for that dream he'd never imagined the three of them together, but now they were together... in the shower... naked. That thought in and of itself almost had him exploding on the spot. Wouldn't that be a big disappointment for Shawn? He really should object. Even though they'd worked at easing Hunter into the whole touching thing, he didn't want to overwhelm the man with too much too soon. The problem was he wasn't sure Shawn was willing to wait and honestly it would probably kill him to put a stop to this now. He was hoping that Hunter would move closer, but he wouldn't ask for it. As for Shawn... if they had more time before Hunter's meeting, he'd probably be begging his lover to fuck him in the showers before Shawn was done. But they didn't have that time luxury and he wasn't willing to go that far without Hunter there so it would have to wait. His eyes turning back to Shawn he smiled shyly. "Did you at least lock the door, sweetheart?" he asked, his gravelly with desire. The last thing they needed was for someone, namely Vince, to walk into the middle of this little escapade. **** Hunter's smirk widened as he watched Shawn turn the simple task of undressing into an almost stripper-like tease. He'd seen his partner nude possibly a thousand times, but this time, it was suddenly, wonderfully different to see Shawn slowly become naked before his eyes. Maybe it was the new-found knowledge that he was allowed to admire his lover's beautiful body that gave him a funny buzz in his chest. God! He�had, not just permission, but was actively encouraged�to let his eyes linger on Shawn's tight, curved ass, to ache to kiss those pouty, pretty lips and tongue the smooth skin at the base of his spine. What a feast Shawn Michaels was to Hunter's admittedly partisan gaze. Damn this 'no touchy' problem of his, just let Shawn keep stripping in front of him and Hunt would be into the tactile stuff in a big way. Pulling his eyes away for a second, Hunter reached over his head to pull the loose singlet he'd been wearing, over his head�to drop in a sodden heap on the floor. Sweat pants and shoes quickly followed. He was just raking his finger through his sweat damp hair when Hunter opened his eyes to find the very object of his lust standing so close he could feel the�puffs of air from their mouths�intermingle. Momentarily alone as Dave started the shower, Hunt's breath caught in his throat at the look on Shawn's face as he gazed at him through dusky-sweet blue eyes. Shawn looked like he'd seen a delicious meal of all his favorite foods, one that he just couldn't wait to taste. His�expression was�hot, hungry and just a little bit more than slightly impatient. It would have taken a crane to move Hunter from his position, as agile fingers stroked his face and neck, the warm, seductive path creating a tight sensation in his heart and his groin. When Shawn's lips pressed to his ultra-sensitive nipple, Hunter's trapped lungs released a soft moan in appreciation of both the sight of that soft pink tongue on his skin and the hot feelings it evoked. Feelings that grew as their lips met for a gentle, slow kiss that had Hunter wondering if his battle scarred�legs where still able to support him. Any time you want me to... Any time you're ready... I'm yours. The deep, husky promise sent a shiver down Hunt's spine and also, surprisingly relaxed�the slight knots of tension that Hunter hadn't realised were beginning to form in that same column. Shawn had just given him a gift. One of no demands and no pressure. It was a gift Hunter wasn't sure he actually deserved given his own behaviour of late. But it was Shawn after all, the man�would do anything for his lovers and Hunter was immensely pleased and shocked to know that he was now filling half of that position. He'd�thought that nothing would really change between them now that they were lovers rather than 'just good friends'. Well... obviously... some things would change, like the having of sex�as primary example.�But in Hunter's mind�he had doubted that he and Shawn would act�much differently towards each other. It seemed he was wrong again when it came to Shawn, being his lover held a very different standing in Shawn's eyes than just a friend. Would this mean they would be even more concerned and fascinated than they�previously had been? They�were already seen as being extremely�tactile�towards one another; what they really�had was no comprehension of the term 'personal space' when applied to the other. Hunt knew of plenty of times they'd practically stepped on each other during appearances because they stuck so close together. Really. They should have been dating years ago. Duh. Hunter, now feeling almost giddy with the freedom Shawn had just handed him, followed his lover's path into the doorway to their private shower. If his Heartbreaker was on the lookout to return Dave's favour from earlier, this was one sight Hunt didn't want to miss. Looking at Dave's hardening shaft�being licked by the�same pink tongue that had teased his own nipple earlier, Hunter felt his own sex start�to pay�attention to the erotic display before him. Shawn on his knees before Dave, shooting Hunter a wicked smile before beginning what looked like the blow job to end all blow jobs. Dave's dark soaked hair and chiseled face, softened by desire and passion, while warm, steamy water fell on them like summer rain. God, what a sight. **** Chris had been ready to read Adam the riot act over doing a PPV with cracked ribs and a concussion when Benoit came in to do it for him. Unfortunately despite his lover's crack to the skull, he was still coherent enough to make reasonable arguments in opposition to the ones unspoken by the Chrises. True,�Benoit and the La Rez boys could handle an injured co-worker no problem and Glen could plant Adam down like a baby if he wanted to. The six man the following Monday�wouldn't be any more dangerous, given that Ric, Dave and Randy could play the heels all by themselves if they had to, while CJ and Benoit directed traffic. But it was still stupid and CJ'd tell him so. Then Adam took his hands and squeezed them gently. Chris was sure he hadn't reacted, he was sure. Still, the look on Adam's face was the exact same one he'd had when Terry had made his snipe about CJ working a match with him. It was a scary look, one�Chris hoped would never be directed at him, but it was also comforting in a 'damsel in distress, need big hero' way. Kinda made him horny too... except for the tendrils of agony running along his fingers and the back of his hand. Did he do this? Oh shit. "No, actually I did." Chris tried to tug his hand from Adam's deceptively gentle grasp. "Genius here tried to catch you before you hit the wall and my hand caught the brunt of it. It's fine." Another tug. "If they're broken I'll wear a pressure glove, they're fine." CJ knew he was doing the exact same dance that Adam had been trying about the matches. 'But this was different,' he defended to himself. 'I'm not gasping for air with blood in my hair, so it's fine. In comparison.' Half-listening to Benoit make his arguments for him, CJ finally got his hand back and nodded Sandburg over. Adam couldn't argue�so well while he was being taped up, he kept hissing and cursing if Sandburg hit a sore spot, but he still managed to block all of Chris's logical attempts to re-work the programme. Fine. Adam wouldn't listen to reason while in the arena, but Chris had other ammunition his lover had no hope of avoiding. Or so he'd heard. Right now all CJ wanted to do was take Adam home and keep him safe and warm for the rest of the week. But when he suggested they leave, he was dobbed into the EMT who took one look at his unmoving fingers and began to call him rude�names. He tolerated Sandburg taping his hand up and nodded his way through a lecture about X-rays and macho pain-tolerant behaviour. After pushing Sandburg for another listen to Adam's lungs, CJ was finally given the all-clear to leave with his precious charge. Standing close enough to his lover to offer support when Adam's feet took his weight, Chris asked. "Hotel I think Babe? Let Chris tell everyone what's what, you need to be horizontal... and not in�the fun way." Chris just hoped Adam wouldn't pull a stubborn mule act and demand to stay for the taping. 'Cos in CJ's opinion that would be just dumb. **** Scott thrust his hips back, pushing his ass further into Kevin's wandering hands and forcing him into firmer contact with Kevin's groin. His head tilted back with a gasp exposing his throat to Kevin's talented tongue. An unbridled hum of pleasure vibrated through his throat as Kevin wended his way down Scott's neck. In retaliation, he lowered his hand further, settling it firmly against the semi-hard shaft ensconced within Kevin's pants. The noise Kevin made sent shivers racing down his spine and there was the look again in Kevin's eyes... the one that he loved so. The sound of the door opening didn't register as Scott leaned down to kiss Kevin once again, thrusting his groin against Kevin's. His muffled groan of pleasure was cut off by the voice coming from the doorway. "What the hell? Jesus, don't you two ever stop? Go get a damn room why don�t ya?" Scott pulled away from Kevin's mouth, taking the time to lick Kevin's bottom lip before turning to face their audience, his body still draped over Kevin's. Raising a brow, Scott grinned. "I thought we were in a room. Doesn't look like the hallway to me," turning to eye Kevin salaciously he licked his lips. "Want to close the door on your way out 'Shaw? Unless you plan to stay and watch." Ignoring the sputtering at the door, Scott winked at Kevin. "But... but this is my dressing room." "Funny... I didn't see your name on the door." Scott smothered a laugh against Kevin's shoulder as JBL stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He was terrible. Thank goodness Kevin loved him that way. **** Benoit threw open the door, his mind racing through all of the possibilities that he could be confronted with. Broken ribs, concussion, cracked skull, cracked vertebrae, broken arm... The sight that actually met his eyes was a little different, though. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of Adam and Jericho practically cuddling, for all that Copeland was injured and in the med bay. When had that happened? For some reason, he flashed back to Rob: "Adam said some pretty cool stuff about CJ... wonder if he's right about how big his dick is?" Shaking his head, he approached the table Adam was perched on. Whatever was up between the two blonds was none of his business, although if it meant that he didn't have to watch over Adam for signs of concussion tonight, he'd be eternally grateful to Jericho. He and Eddie had spent way too much time apart lately. "What the hell happened to you?" He couldn't help but smile just a little at the protective way Jericho hovered in front of Adam at his question. Leaning against the doorway, Eddie watched Chris try to deal with a tag partner who was pulling the best stubborn act since... well... since last time Chris had been injured and insisted on wrestling anyway. He smirked a bit as he listened to Adam's arguments; they sounded terribly familiar, and they were about as true as they hadn't been when Benoit had used them on him last time. However... they were probably going to be just as effective with Vince, which was what mattered. He stepped backward as Chris turned with a final, exasperated, "Fine! Whatever you say, then. I'm sure you'll be just fine." Raising an eyebrow at the mutters emanating from his lover, he paced Chris down the hallway. "So, ese, what's up?" He couldn't quite keep his amusement out of his voice, now that he'd seen that Copeland wasn't too badly hurt. The fact that he was hurt was a big problem, but at the moment, he had to try to calm Chris down rather than give in to his own impulses to plot revenge for the gross stupidity Terry had demonstrated. Big surprise, that. Benoit slowed to a halt and glared at him. "The damned fool insists that he'll be fine to work Bad Blood and the next Raw! He's got cracked ribs, and he's talking about taking a choke slam like it was nothing! What the hell do you think is up, Eddie?" Eddie raised an eyebrow in response, seeing through the upset words. "If you're so pissed with him, Chris, then why are we standing in front of Vince's office? If you didn't think he could work, you'd've headed for the locker room. But you're going to talk to Vince for him, aren't you?" The stubborn, almost embarrassed silence that greeted him gave him his answer. Shaking his head, he put a hand on Chris's shoulder. "Chris... you knew he wasn't going to go lie down quietly for two weeks. Not anymore than you did, last time you had cracked ribs... no matter how much I wanted you to. So it took four weeks instead of two to heal; you healed. So you nearly gave me nightmares every time you did that pinche headbutt. Did it stop you?" A long silence, as Eddie looked steadily at Chris. Finally, Chris sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise..." Shaking his head, Eddie cut him off. "That's not the point, Chris. The point is that he's doing the same thing you do, the same thing I do... the same thing every single person in the back would do in his place. Complain all you want; I understand that. But go in and talk to Vince for him. Go!" With a gentle push, he moved Benoit toward the door they'd stopped in front of. Chris reluctantly knocked on it, paused in response to a voice that Eddie couldn't quite make out, and then entered. Leaning against the wall, letting their bags fall to the floor, Eddie wondered who was the bigger pendejo: Adam, for wanting to wrestle injured; Chris, for arguing to let him do so; or himself, for arguing Chris into getting Vince to let Adam go on. There was no telling, in situations like this. **** "No... yes." Oh, for the love of... Mark stifled an impatient sight, counseling his features to their normal expressionless state. Jeff was the worst liar he'd ever seen, and the longer he was around him, the more he reminded him of Shawn, a decade ago. That was probably unfair to Hardy, and could get Mark in all kinds of trouble if his mind went too far down that path... but it was true, dammit. Only half-listening to Jeff's babbling, he wondered suddenly if that wouldn't be something to think about. Maybe he could get Shawn to help him out with this one... if he could be pried away from Batista long enough to listen. His lips curved just slightly at that thought before he blinked it away and looked back down at Jeff. He ignored the use of his ring name rather than let it irritate him further. And why did it irritate him coming from Jeff? Practically everybody backstage called him that, too, after all. No, better not go there. Instead, better to concentrate on why he was irritated with Jeff's leaving his locker room when he'd just put his balls on the line for the k... man. Allowing the smaller man to pull him down the hallway and into his room, hiding his amusement at the sight, Mark raised an eyebrow as Jeff almost jerked away from him after the door closed behind them. That was interesting. Jeff had always seemed to have a problem being around him, although Mark had assumed that it just a matter of the size difference plus his normally brooding personality. That affected a lot of his coworkers that way... but this? This was different. "Now why exactly am I waiting like a good dog for his master's return with slippers in mouth and eyes all glowing with expectation?" Mark had to force himself to tear his mind away from images of Jeff in a collar. It didn't help that collars seemed to be one of the man's favourite fashion accessories, but the pictures in his mind right now didn't involve the ring, and he didn't need to be thinking that way. Not now, not here. Probably not ever. Taking a breath, he ignored Jeff's posturing and met his eyes instead. That was almost a mistake, he realised immediately. He'd only really seen Hardy's eyes while working with him in the ring, and he'd been too preoccupied with their match then to realise how compelling they could be. Blinking once, he firmly kept his mind on track as he started speaking. "Because I talked to Vince." Pausing to take in Jeff's reaction to that, he continued after a long moment. "When we're done here, go on back to his office and sign your contract. There are some conditions, naturally, but nothing you can't live with." Hopefully. What he'd do when he found out that Mark was responsible for him, well... deal with that later. Letting Jeff stare at him in shocked silence, he walked across the room to his bag and sat on the bench, pulling off his shoes and letting them drop to the floor. He needed a shower desperately, and the dull ache in his shoulder from overusing it earlier was starting to settle in. Hopefully hot water would help ease that. The sleeveless hoody was just hitting the bench beside him when Jeff finally reacted. **** to be continued... |