Written as a request for the lovely saraHHH ! Hope you like it!
Towelling off his hair Bryan sat on the bench in the locker room and thought about his match. It ended as scripted but the beatdown afterwards went way beyond the creative scheduling. Hard slaps and harder kicks had left him bruised and he was still feeling a deep ache in the joints of his right arm from the suicide dive. He'd known there was something wrong halfway through the match when his collision with the side barrier had left him with jelly legs and an eye that wanted to close but he took it all in his stride, the indies having been full of stiff workers and no-sellers for years.
Mike had given him a hard time since their first meeting at FCW. Nothing he'd said had been good enough. All the on-screen heat about him not being superstar material was Mike's real opinion that he was only too happy to vocalise. All protestations to have a different rookie fell on deaf ears once creative had seen the antagonistic chemistry between the two and the deal was sealed. Pass a few months on and their day to day interaction was mercifully limited but being in the ring together ignited the hate all over again.
Shoving his damp towel, ring gear and boots into his bag Bryan zipped it shut and grabbed his hoodie from hook above him, slipping the soft cotton straight onto his bare skin, his t-shirt having been absent mindedly left back at the hotel earlier on in the evening. He stood, slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door, his only thoughts being whether or not there was anywhere in the backwater town that would be serving vegetarian let alone vegan food at that time of night.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't US Champion Daniel Bryan. How's the head?"
Mike's words were accompanied by his usual sneer, his tone of voice condescending as ever. His form blocked the doorway entirely, a deliberate move he was well practised at.
"I'm good, thank you. Now if you'll just let me pa-"
"I'm good. Is that all you have to say for yourself? You really are the pathetic waste of air that I said you were. No backbone. Just like Cole said, no heart."
Casting his eyes to the floor Bryan let the tirade wash over him. It was nothing new hearing words like that, not from Mike or anyone else. He knew that he should be feeling his blood boil, should want to tear Mike limb from limb but the will just wasn't there. Nothing came when he tried to summon up that aggression. He'd been told from an early age that it was better to pity stupidity than react to it and it was a motto that had stood him in good stead over the course of his decade in the business. Adjusting the bag over his shoulder he made to move towards the door again.
"If I can just get past..."
As he raised his head again he found the narrowed eyes of his ex-mentor locked into a game of chicken with his own. His body relaxed as he gleaned from Mike's in-character look that there weren't going to be any more fists thrown that evening. His adversary hadn't got the backup, Riley having gone to do some promo work. Instead all that happened was the stare intensified, Mike's head coming within centimetres of his own, close enough for him to feel the fast and warm spent breaths blowing against the smattering of a goatee beard he'd permitted himself to grow.
"You're going nowhere Danielson. You hear me? Nowhere in this profession, nowhere in this building; nowhere at all."
The lowered octave of Mike's voice was clearly meant to imply some kind of threat but to Bryan it meant nothing. He had to stifle the smile that wanted to spread across his tightly pressed together lips, knowing full well it would do nothing more than pop another vein out of Mike's forehead. Taking one hand he pressed it softly onto the rounded shoulder and pushed his oppressor away, knowing he was taking a chance but not seeing any other way to get by.
"I asked you politely Mike. I'm going to go now and I'll see you at the arena tomorrow, okay?"
He couldn't help it but his tone was exactly as if he was talking to a child, explaining things clearly so his point would only need to be made once. Before he could consider the ire that his gesture and words might be building in Mike's head he slid past him and out into the corridor. The cool air helped to tame the prickling he felt on the back of his neck and the slight increase in his heart rate. Bryan told himself that it was nothing more than the adrenaline getting to him but the dark corner of his mind couldn't help but wonder just how much of him liked getting into fight or flight situations.
Busy chastising himself he didn't hear the voice calling after him, the shouts echoing off the walls seemed to deflect away from his ears as nothing other than a low level hum. It wasn't until the hand clamped around his bicep and spun him round that he realised there was something more going on. There was Mike again, his face blood red and his eyebrows close to touching his hairline.
"Don't. You. Ever. Walk away from me like that. I'd ask if you know who I am but you know, of course you know. You don't respect it but you damn well know. You listen to me. Not everyone buys the hype, especially not me. I meant what I said. You're nothing and nobody. Nothing but a no-mark flash in the pan that'll be out of here for real and for good any day soon."
Swinging the bag off his shoulder and letting it dangle by his side at the end of his loosely hung arm Bryan let the full smile he'd kept at bay light up his face, taking his turn to lean in close before delivering his reply.
"If I'm such a nobody then why are you following me around like a deranged stalker?"
That one comment was enough to leave Mike standing on the spot with no smart reply. Pushing open the door out into the parking lot Bryan didn't even bother looking behind himself to see if there was anyone following. He sensed that there wouldn't be. He dismissed his thoughts about what had driven the older man to follow him, knowing the best thing he could do was make himself carry on walking away.
A loud knock on his hotel room door woke Bryan from a short but so far restful snooze, aided by the half hour of stretches he'd done before getting into bed. It was only 1am and he knew that the rest of the guys would be out raising hell in a bar somewhere but he'd been glad to get horizontal, finish off his latest comic and drift into a welcome sleep. The interruption to it was not so welcome.
Strolling to the door wearing nothing more than boxers and a much faded Batman logo t-shirt he wished it was the kind of hotel that came with a spy hole in the door. Until he got closer to main event status he'd stick to being able to afford not to share which meant he was lucky if he got two pillows and a divan rather than a box built into the floor. He twisted the handle and poked his head into the gap that his half-hearted tug had created.
"Mike... what the hell? It's after 1am!"
"So you can tell the time. What you tell it on Mr Modern Technology? A sundial?"
Barging past and into the room Mike perched on the chair at the end of the bed, pulling discarded clothes from behind him and tossing them carelessly onto the floor.
"Make yourself comfortable..."
Bryan muttered his faux invite as he turned and watched Mike primp and preen himself. From straightening his shirt to brushing the sides of his head, making sure not a single hair was out of place, it was a carefully orchestrated set of moves. It was only when he saw the feet kick up and legs cross at the ankle, shoes perched on the end of his bed that he'd got some reservations about just how comfortable Mike was making himself.
"So Bryan. How come you think you can walk away from me like you did? You need to start showing me the respect I deserve. You're the newcomer, the rookie. You only got where you are now through riding the coat-tails of my success on NXT!"
With one eyebrow raised Bryan grabbed his bottle of water from the side of the bed and took a deep drink from it, eventually putting the cap back on and sitting down where his warmth was still radiating from the sheets. He eyed Mike carefully, wondering just what the hell right he thought he had invading his room in the dead of the night but also speaking to him like that when there was nobody around to hear. There was nobody to impress, no creative or booking guys hanging around to see their legitimate problems so Bryan failed to see the point of the verbal assault.
"Nice line. You steal that off Jericho too?"
He watched Mike take his feet down and lean forward, forearms flush to his thighs and his eyes squinted in a look of incredulity. For a guy with so many concerns about his looks it appeared that he didn't mind risking wrinkles and looking ridiculous.
"Excuse me? You think I learned anything from him? The old guy who hung his ass out to creative just to get me to tag with him? No, no, no. You got that little arrangement all wrong. He wanted the rub of my glory, of my push. Without me look where he is now – on his way out and way down."
Laughing quietly Bryan saw from a distance the vein from earlier making a line and pulsing hard in the temple that shone with the slightest sheen of sweat.
"If that's so true and you're such a big shot with a big push then what's that over there?"
With a simple nod to the glistening amalgamation of steel, paint and leather part of the issue was both clarified and magnified. It was the belt that had come between them. It had stung Mike badly when the tag belts were taken off them in such unceremonious fashion and then the same went for him having lost the belt to Bret. Now he'd had to had it over to Bryan and his dreams, his ambitions all seemed to be crumbling. He knew he had the briefcase to fall back on but that wasn't enough. It wasn't validating until he'd cashed it and kept up the winning ways of the previous holders but he had no idea if that would ever happen, or at least not until the next three months of storylines were signed off by Hunter, Steph and Vince.
What irked him most was the way that the pretender to the throne had succeeded to it in almost record time. There was no backstage interviewing and Diva Search for Danielson. All there had been was fanfare, red carpet and hype. At first he thought he'd had an ally in Cole but no dice. That was just kayfabe whereas his issues were not. It wasn't that Bryan hadn't been a gentleman from the outset, more so that he was too nice. Mike felt as if someone was shaking his hand as they were taking the belt off him with the other one and taking with it all the things he'd worked for.
Too much had happened in the time he'd been in the business; working hard to make his dream come true only to see his efforts being used to further the new guy more than once. This time it was the supposed saviour of the business. One of Shawn's pet projects. This time it had gotten to him on a whole new level and it wasn't long before all he could think about was Bryan. Their increasingly regular matches were becoming torturous and he could feel his game slipping. He'd get so caught up with making his next smart move that he didn't see the feinted punches coming and actually got caught with one or two. That's what had made him see red and make his unsanctioned extended attack after the match. What he'd no intention of telling Bryan was that he'd just had the roasting of his life from Patterson and Hunter, fined a week's pay and given a warning that if he ever did anything like that again he'd be on the suspension list with no right to reply and his briefcase handed elsewhere.
In his own mind he couldn't figure out what had driven him to slip the money to the guy on reception just to find out which room Bryan was in. He'd wanted to talk to him, not to apologise but just to talk. Being stood outside the door he'd waited almost 5 minutes before knocking, repeatedly fixing his hair, almost turning away, rehearsing what to say and listening for any signs of life in the room. When he had finally knocked he didn't expect an answer and on getting one he hadn't decided on what he wanted to say so just walked in. Not his smoothest move but maybe one that would assert the dominance that he felt was slipping through his fingers.
"That, you asshole, is my belt. My title that they never should've trusted you with. What did you do to deserve it?"
Sarcasm was very much present in the delivery of his words but it didn't stop him getting the reply he least wanted to hear.
"I beat you. That's all I did. I beat you for that belt."
The twenty seconds of silence felt like an eternity to both men, the tension building as they ticked past. Bryan expected to have to defend himself against a flurry of punches and kicks, Mike debating whether or not to launch for Bryan and resurrect his confidence and image. It was always the same in the wrestling business. There was only ever the finish that was pre-decided, the rest of it was as real as anything else in life. The rivalries stewed and brewed with little coaxing, the belts the equivalent of a promotion or demotion in any ordinary 9-5. The animosity between the two men was getting close to fever pitch and about to cost both of them dearly if they carried on as they were.
"Look, Mike I don't want to argue with you. I came here to do what I love and what some people seem to think I'm halfway decent at. I didn't come to take your belt, take your pay, your fans; none of it. I came here for the same reasons as you, to live my dream. Now if you can't deal with that or don't believe that then we'll have to agree to disagree. I'd rather be on your side than fighting against you all the time but it's your call."
The softly spoken words would've been lost in the noise if it wasn't for the thickly glazed windows blocking the rumble of the constant flow of traffic outside. Bryan didn't want to shout or cause a scene. He'd learned a long time back that the aggressive approach got him nowhere with people like Mike.
"You expect me to believe that? You come here, Vince is up your ass, Johnny Ace couldn't wait to get up there when Vince had finished. You've got-"
"Mike, my parents wanted me to be a doctor. My brothers have got good jobs with medical, dental and pensions. My dog doesn't even like the smell of the ring on me. All I've got is this. The ring, my bad gear, the people who want to yell for me. I don't have all the things you have; the looks, the reality TV experience. What you see is what I am. I make less in a year than you made last week from selling t-shirts. Why don't you stop being so damn insecure and back off. I'm nothing to be scared of or is it all still real to you Mike, or should I say mark?"
In seconds Mike was out of his seat and looming large over Bryan who was still seated calmly on the bed. His nerves were frayed at best and he'd heard enough of what he saw as bear baiting. The smart mouthing had gone on long enough and he was losing sight of the advantages of pinning his colours to the supposed net big thing as Hunter had sold it to him earlier. His breathing slowed and steadied, the anger alone not enough to pump him up further.
"Real? You want real, I can give you real," Mike grabbed a handful of Bryan's t-shirt and pulled him to his feet. "Real is I bust my ass like you do. Real is that I do this because I love it, because this is what I was meant to do and who I was meant to be. Don't think you're the only one who came here to do things the right way."
The standoff was a tense one, both men breathing audibly but Mike's chest rising and falling more rapidly. His jaw jutted and the vein in the side of his forehead flexed and filled again as the moments passed. Bryan was more relaxed, his heart pumping hard but not to the point where he couldn't control himself long enough to get through their little misunderstanding calmly. The time spent arguing still seemed to him like a missed opportunity for time spent sleeping.
"Look, just let me go, go back to your room and we can fight about this during daylight hours tomorrow. Right now I want to get in bed and sleep, okay?"
The hand still twisted into his t-shirt made Bryan keep his guard up despite the change in the look in Mike's eyes. It softened slightly and the sparkling icy-blue pools flicked from side to side as if looking for something. He'd made his best efforts to diffuse the situation and just hoped that he'd done enough.
"You get your sleep," Shoving firmly Mike let go of the fabric and watched as Bryan dropped heavily onto the bed. "You'll still have to face up to me tomorrow."
Backing towards the door Mike was careful not to turn his back and allow for any kind of sneak attack. Little did he know that no such intention lurked in the mind of the man he'd just physically and verbally ambushed. Nothing was in there apart from the will to sleep and deal with it all in the morning.
Once outside the door it wasn't long before Mike felt the need to wipe his palms on his trousers to take the thin veil of sweat off. He could accept that Bryan didn't want his spot or really even want his title. His brain could rationalise the pull towards the man he saw as his nemesis as long as he saw him as that. The problem was that his notion of Bryan being a threat was slowly ebbing away, it was just easier to force himself to believe that hate was driving him over and above the lust that had started to build in the bottom of his gut. Those last moments had been tough, the urge to lean forward and press his lips to the surprisingly fuschia coloured pair before him had been strong. He berated himself as he stormed to the elevator, fortunately unable to see his bottom lip protruding as it did whenever his temper was comprised of its last shreds. Disgusted with himself he twisted the belt of his trousers sharply, doing anything to alleviate the tension of the material around his crotch. It would be another night of guilty self pleasure, another night of wanting and waiting, another night of drinking himself to sleep to silence the taboo erotic thoughts that tormented him.
A few metres away Bryan was already asleep, the presence of Mike quickly forgotten in his limited period of consciousness but starting to creep into the early minutes of his first and barely lucid dream of the night. A hand was using the bunched material to pull the t-shirt off over his head, rough kisses landing on his collarbone as the material crumpled to the ground. He turned over onto his front, a low groan escaping his lips between indecipherable muttered noises. He'd awaken in the morning to find a mess in his boxer shorts that he'd not experienced with such regularity since his late teens. So far he'd got no idea what was causing it day after day, the dreams forgotten long before he awoke. His mystery would continue until he tuned into the signals coming from Mike or realised what was going on his deepest thoughts. Either way, it could be a while.
A/N: Well, it didn't quite go the way I planned it at first but this is what came out of my brain so I guess it's meant to be this way. I suspect there may be a part 2 to this at some point in the near future, we'll just have to see. All reads and reviews appreciated as always!