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“I just wish we could get them, you know?” Sami said late at night after they’d already turned the lights out to sleep. Kevin was rolled over on his side, facing away, Sami lying on his back as usual in the next bed. “Really get them. Win our titles back so hard they can’t walk for a week.”
Kevin lay there, wide awake, as Sami sighed in the quiet hotel room. Sami only ever let his moral compass spin like this at night, never when the sun was up, never in the ring. It was as though every time he went to attack someone, there was a big red alarm screen in his brain, warning, illegal move detected. Sweet little babyface.
They had the rematch for the titles a week later in the ring, and lost, cos yeah, the other team was better than them or less tired or whatever. Sami went in for a hug, saying “oh well” or “we tried” or something, something that almost made Kevin laugh. Poor Sami, sweet Sami, doesn’t even know what he wants. Naïve Sami, who confused ‘hurting the opponents’ with ‘beating the opponents.’
Kevin pushed out of his tag partner’s embrace and went for it, punching those stupid assholes right in their stupid faces, just like they’d done to Sami a week ago. Sami and the ref pulled him off, and the crowd booed. Kevin should really know better than to attack dumbasses in their nowhere hometowns by now. But he wiped the blood from his knuckles onto his face and found he really didn’t care. Sami’s arms were wrapped around his, pulling him backwards towards the locker room while Kevin kicked and spat back towards the ring, the ring where the champions lay with their faces done in.
Sami stared at Kevin for a full minute in silence before he hit the shower, both of them panting, Kevin waiting to be thanked. Sami fell asleep snoring in his hotel bed that night without complaining.
Sami would never ask outright, never break a rule, but Kevin could read him like an open book. There was that strange fire in his eyes, that electricity that crackled between them late at night when the lights were out and they were both listening to each other’s breathing, seeing if the other was awake. The way the air felt rich and alive in the locker room after Kevin got them both disqualified for hitting someone with a belt and they both stood there, breathing hard. Kevin could do these things for Sami. He could be Sami’s other side, his other half. Kevin's strengths building up Sami's weaknesses. Once they got sent off before Sami’d even had a chance to tag in and Kevin still saw him sweating and chest heaving, like he’d been right there with Kevin, like he’d been the one to feel the crunch of cartilage shifting under his palm.
They never talked about that.
“I wish I could make them take me seriously, you know?” Kevin was never sure if Sami was talking to him or not when the lights were out like this. It didn’t matter either way. They had these conversations in the daytime, on the road, and they always went the same.
“You’ve got to toughen up, who cares what the ref says?”
“Kevin, you can’t just attack people! The rules are in place to prevent everyone from getting seriously hurt!”
“But isn’t it worth it, to let them know what you can do?”
“Of course not; I want to win on my own merit.”
Like Kevin wasn’t winning on his own merit every time he fought dirty. Like it wasn't Kevin's fists coming at their opponents from behind. It’s ring awareness, knowing when the ref’s distracted, knowing exactly how long you have for a claw or a choke.
“When those assholes really get started next time, I’ll teach them not to underestimate me,” Sami sighed. “Right in front of everybody.”
And then two nights later, Kevin watched as Sami was caught in the far corner getting the shit kicked out of him because he’d been nice enough to wait for the ref to recover from Matt Jackson’s ‘misdirected’ superkick. So Kevin jumps the ropes and pulls the Bucks off him, throwing one to the ground and dragging the other to the centre, letting loose, not caring if it was the legal man or not.
“What the hell?” Sami hissed. He always got so angry when Kevin helped him. The ref was up now, shouting about them both being in the ring while the Young Bucks went all bambi-eyed, but Kevin didn’t give a shit. Sami's fingers dug painfully into Kevin's shoulder as he shoved him back out of the ring. He felt good.
Kevin woke up one three AM to hear a rustling from Sami’s bed. He froze, forcing himself to not roll over and check what Sami was doing; it was obvious what he was doing. Oh, Sami whispered, and yes, and then please right when he got close.
He wondered if Sami did this often, waiting until Kevin was asleep to jerk off – really asleep, not just ‘we’re sharing a room and I’m considerate enough to wait til midnight’ asleep like most people did. Probably thinking about some girl. It was sad that Sami wasn’t brave enough or smooth enough to bring a girl back to the room. Kind of pathetic, really.
When Sami came, he groaned through a bit lip like he wanted to stay quiet and not wake Kevin.
The girl at the bar had one glass of wine, Kevin had three or maybe four. If he was drunk it wouldn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything, but if he was drunk he’d have deniability or whatever.
They stumbled into the motel room, and he wondered if he was being that kind of loud where you’re drunk and trying to be quiet, but you’re actually being loud. He figured he was probably pretty convincing, so he hit the lightswitch, because only a drunken idiot would do that when trying to be sneaky. Didn’t want Sami to wake up and think he wasn’t drunk, otherwise he might think Kevin meant something by this, which he didn’t.
“Oops,” he whispered, flicking the switch back to darkness. “I forgot my tag partner’s here. We’ll have to be very, very quiet.” The girl giggled, drawing him towards his empty bed.
Enough light from the vacancy sign seeped through the curtains for Kevin to see that Sami had thrown an arm over his face to block out the flash from the overhead. He was lying more still than Kevin had ever seen him, was barely breathing, was definitely not snoring.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Kevin said before he remembered he should whisper, before he remembered it didn’t matter. He kissed his way down his date's body, squeezing and licking until he got to her skirt. She moaned when he started to eat her out, barely audible.
“Shh, gotta be quiet,” he reminded her. His voice sounded louder than she’d been. “Sami’s right there, can’t wake him up.”
Sami still hadn’t moved, arm still covering his face. Kevin couldn’t see if he had an erection or not, with the way the blankets were rumpled. He paused long enough in his endeavour to listen, but didn’t hear any sleep sounds.
It was probably hot for her, to think about someone listening in, right? Kevin was pretty sure some people were into that, and it sounded right, sounded electric, so he said it again.
“Sami’s right next to us.” She tugged Kevin’s hair with a whimper, urging him on, and he dove deeper with his tongue. He could feel himself getting aroused, and tugged on her hips to bring her closer to his mouth. “Can’t let him hear what he’s missing, can we?”
Every match, it seemed like Sami got gooder and gooder. It was maybe once a week, never less than once every two that he’d get frustrated in the dark. “That guy’s such an asshole,” he’d say, and “I hope we can get that team, but good.” And every match Kevin got badder and badder, with Sami’s eyes on him the whole time, bright and watching.
But Samaritan Sami got more dickish about the whole arrangement after the night with the girl, actually shouting at him a couple weeks later when they got back to their room.
“I don’t understand why you have to fucking do these things!” he said, while Kevin stared at him blankly. It’s for you, you know it’s for you. “If you want to fight someone, is it so hard to wait until you’re in the ring together instead of attacking them during a promo? Or, I don’t know, say something to them?”
Kevin attacked Sami the next day. Chair shot, medical staff swarming. The crowd screamed because he hurt their perfect boy, what a monster, but fuck them. Kevin only glanced back once as he stormed backstage, only once, and saw Sami lying there curled on his side. He licked his lips.
“Kevin’s such an asshole,” Sami told the cameras later. “I’m going to get him but good.”
And every match, Sami was an angel, a heavenly boy sent to clean up the world of wrestling like John fucking Cena with a beard. Kevin didn’t share rooms with him anymore, but they did share a ring and Kevin could see it – could see Sami loosening his morals with a shake of the shoulders, like he was untying a mask, glaring at Kevin from over the heads of the announcers. Now Sami had to admit that this was about them, about Kevin being his other side.
You’re fucking welcome, Kevin thought. Then he rolled out of the ring and Sami attacked him from behind like he was going for a kill.