House Show Shenanigans

Rod paced the locker room, his annoyance extremely palpable. His brown boots made soft slapping noises against the concrete floor. He talked to himself loudly (as if his voice were capable of any other volume) and his words were made up mostly of swears. Around him men were in various states of undress, a couple of them carrying on a conversation about barbeque sauce, in the nude, as if it were perfectly normal. From one of the beat up toilet stalls came the occasional grunt, and the smell of sweat in the room was being accompanied by something worse.

Piper noticed none of it. He was as used to these things as he was to the sun rising in the morning, but even still, he had something else that was spinning the wheels of his mind into a frenzy.

Ric Flair.

He and Flair were best friends, but for months they had been on rocky ground. Their screaming matches in the ring were becoming the stuff of legend, and their screaming matches drunk on Crown, after midnight, through the papery walls of dingy hotel rooms—was not quite as appreciated. Rod tried to hold his temper as much as possible, he really did, but sometimes the beast just broke free of its reigns and let loose with a hellish roaring and thrashing of teeth, claws, and jealousy. He loved that man, and the last thing he wanted was for their friendship to break completely—the very thought of it made his throat go dry and his stomach cramp. He did not think that was possible, no matter how much they may argue.

But then again, everyone has a breaking point.

That's why Rod decided he would break Ric Flair tonight.

Really Rod had decided upon this on the fly. He and Ric were feuding in the ring, and the things Rod did to provoke, demean, enrage, and one-up Flair were almost always contrived hours, or minutes before he found himself with a mic in his hand, and even more often, he simply came up with his magic on the spot.

Tonight Rod had given this some thought—meaning he had came up with it ten minutes ago, when he had seen Ric entangled with a blushing and babbling Ricky Steamboat. Ric had liked the boy for quite some time. He had really gained Ric's respect in their early feuds, and Rod could not take away from the dark haired man, that they were really something. That did not mean that Ric had to go and lust after the damn kid. Roddy knew very well that Ric was a sexual creature, and Roddy tolerated a lot, but this had gotten under his skin more than anything else. The women he could handle, even the other men Ric chose to grope and goggle over, but not this. Ric had fallen over Ricky and the boy had not even to try, or even to want his affection and lewd advances. Roddy on the other hand, could not seem to make it clear to Ric, that he desired his best friend in ways that seemed to ghost over Ric's head and leave him clueless. Roddy could not call himself skilled at wooing the same sex...as he had never done so (nor had he ever been inclined to do so, until Flair) but he was certain that Ric should have caught on to his intentions by now.

There was never anything in Ric's words, looks, or touches, other than friendship however, and it burned the hot flame of want even brighter within Roddy. Ricky did little to soothe it—Ricky caused Roddy to become consumed with his jealousy, and he became more driven than ever in his attempts to get his meaning across to Ric.

Of course, there was the easier solution that Roddy could have just out and told Ric his feelings...but that too made Roddy's guts tangle up, and his cheeks burn an uncharacteristic dark rose. For all of his outgoing nature, he could not do this. Every time he considered it, or tried to rehearse this plan of action in a mirror, he became tongue-tied (something he had formerly considered impossible) and his mind seized up on him. He just could not find the words or the way to express plainly to Ric what he wanted, so he was left with attempting to show him, and Ric continued on in his obliviousness somehow.

There was no more room for being subtle.

Tonight Ric would know exactly what Roddy Piper wanted from him.

-x-

Ric was livid. His face was turning that shade of purple that only Ric Flair could obtain without having an aneurism in the process. He held his favorite robe in his hands: dark purple with silver and gold sequins. Across the shoulders should have been the moniker "Nature Boy" in glittering sequins, but instead there was a gaping hole where it had been. Every curse word possible filled the small locker room as Ric ranted and raved, and demanded to know who had defaced his baby. He had little time to carry out his threats as he jabbed his finger, wide eye, spit flying from his lips, at every person he suspected. In a rage he pulled the violet robe on, refusing to walk out without it. Ric stormed out of the room, and through the entrance towards the ring. His pride did not allow him to abandon the robe, and yet the look of fury on his face couple with the hacked robe, his tanned and muscled back seen working through the hole, was a sight of hilarity in the opinion of some people. A flock of guys had followed and watched from a safe distance, behind the entrance, as Ric stomped rather than strutted, towards the ring.

Ric climbed beneath the ropes and immediately grabbed a microphone. He shouted over the din of people who were cheering, laughing, and woo-ing. Ric tore around the ring, demanding, screaming, cursing, stabbing his finger at the smoke thick air. Finally there was an answer in the form of Piper strolling down the aisle. He stopped midway to grin at Ric who now stood in the middle of the ring, completely seething. Jeers rang up from the crowd, and Piper was pelted with popcorn and beer cups. His red tiger shirt was quickly soaked through and clinging to his torso. He was grinning from ear to ear as he watched Ric rage. Piper gave his shaggy head a shake, and pulled up the bottom of his kilt just a bit. A scrap of deep purple fabric could be seen, the tail resting against Roddy's thigh. Roddy grabbed the end of the fabric and pulled it free. He held the piece up as if reading it, and then he held it above his head with Nature Boy facing out so Ric and most of the crowd could see it.

Ric threw his mic at Piper, and stormed around the ring. In a rage he grabbed the top ropes and shook them. He tugged at his fluffy platinum hair. Ric tore his maimed robe from his body, balled it up, tossed it onto the mat, and gave it an elbow drop. He got up and jabbed a finger in Pipers direction as Piper waved the bit of fabric as if he were enticing a bull into a fight. Ric was clearly yelling, and cursing Piper up and down, but the noise of the crowd was so great that his threats remained nothing more to Piper than comical exaggerated mouth movements.

Roddy wadded the fabric up, and stuck it beneath his kilt again. He raised the tartan fabric to show Ric his bare, white, ass. The crowd was booing even louder, and Piper was being pelted with more beer. He could hear the shouts of those nearest to him. Roddy grabbed each end of the purple fabric, and pulled it back and forth across his ass, as if it were a towel he was drying himself with. The crowd erupted even louder, and dented metal chairs clanked down around Pipers head. Ric dove out of the ring, and ran for Piper, who had dropped the purple sequined material onto the dirty floor, and had spat upon it. Piper ground his boot down upon it, crouched into a fighting stance, and motioned with his hands for Ric to "bring it on". The two locked up and began a battle in the aisle. The blows they traded were real, and hard. Ric and Roddy were always real with each other, and took no pains to be gentle, but this time Ric had descended into brutality. His punches were dealt to do damage, but Piper came back just as hard.

At one point the two were on the ground, rolling around in the popcorn debris and beer puddles, squashing paper cups as they brawled, their bare skin sliding around in the muck. Ric grabbed a handful of filthy, soggy, popcorn, and smashed it into Roddy's face. Grit and the taste of cheap beer raked across Roddy's mouth, and he spat, spraying Ric's bleeding face. Roddy flipped them, managing to get Ric on his back, and grabbed a handful of Ric's crimson hair. Roddy grabbed the piece of fabric he had cut out of Ric's robe, the piece he had rubbed across his ass, and ground it into Ric's face. More chairs hurtled down around them, one hitting Rod across the back. He rolled off of Ric, who crawled towards one of the chairs, and grabbed it up.

Piper scrambled to his feet, and Ric chased him around the outside of the ring with the chair raised high above his head. Blood poured down Ric's face and into his eyes. He swung the chair blindly. Piper tripped over his kilt which had fallen down around his ankles, and went sprawling. Ric could not stop in time, and tripped over him. Ric fell hard, and the chair flew noisily across the floor.

Rod hastily fixed his kilt, thinking now that it may have been better to have worn his trunks beneath as usual, instead of going bare-assed. Everything he owned had now been flashed to the whooping, jeering, electrified crowd. Most of them were chanting for Flair to get up, as Roddy was preoccupied with fixing his kilt and covering his bits. Behind Piper's back Ric got slowly to his feet. The crowd was growing more and more frantic. Huffing, puffing, enraged, and lightheaded, Ric drew his arm across his face in an attempt to clear his eyes of his bloody mask. His eyes were wide, and his teeth bared, but the gash in his head from Piper's repetitive hooks continued to leak freely.

Ric groped for his lost chair, and gripped the legs of it. He advanced on Piper, and swung, just as Piper finished with his kilt and turned. The chair caught Piper in the stomach rather than in the back which had been the intent. Piper sank down to his knees, regretting his lunch, and wondering if he would be able to breath again. Ric had not spared him a damn thing, but had hit him as hard as he could. Rod grabbed his aching gut, and gave a couple of dry heaves, but refused to be deterred. He managed to pull himself into the ring. His shirt hung off of him in tattered stripes, his exposed skin was dirty with beer and muck, and wet popcorn was stuck in his hair. Thick strands of saliva from his continued heaving trailed down his chin and hung from his lips. He wiped his mouth savagely on his arm, and waited for Ric in a fighting stance, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes wild.

Ric climbed back into the ring, still leaking blood. The drops dripped onto the canvas leaving a scarlet trail after him. The two continued to brawl in the ring. The crowd was mad with excitement. Trash littered the ring until it was difficult to move over the mat without tripping over the mess. Ric smashed Piper's face into an exposed turnbuckle, and Piper's nose exploded. Blood gushed over his mouth, and down his chest. He now matched his opponent. Roddy backed away from the turnbuckle, his legs wobbling as if they had become spaghetti. Ric clung to him from behind, locking Piper into his own finishing move: The Sleeper. Roddy thrashed around wildly, attempting to get out of the lock. His hands circled Ric's wrists and tried to pry his arms away, his face straining, grimacing with the effort. After a bit of struggle Rod began to flop uselessly against Ric, panting. The move could easily be done simply for the look of it, and choking could be faked, but as with their battle tonight, Ric was not faking. Ric's muscled arms were cutting off Rod's oxygen. Rod began to thrash once more, attempting his escape again. The crowd was roaring with cheers at his impending defeat. Colors and stars began to dance before Rod's eyes. He gasped for breath, and got a mouthful of the blood that still trickled from his busted nose.

"I don't know what the fuck you thought you were doing tonight, Piper!" Roddy heard Ric hiss against his ear. "But you crossed a line!"

Ric tightened his hold, and Roddy coughed, and sputtered. He began to struggle again, his wilted body gaining a surge of new strength. Roddy grappled at Ric's face blindly. His fingers slipped in the mask of blood. His fingernails found the wound and bit into it, raking, tearing, bringing a roar from Ric as the wound gushed even more. Ric let go of Roddy and staggered backwards. Piper flopped down onto his knees amongst the garbage carpeting the ring, and the echo of boos all around him. Ric flailed back into a turnbuckle, leaned against it, and held his head as blood streamed through his fingers. Roddy pulled himself back to his wobbling legs slowly, coughing, and choking on deep breaths. He sagged against the ropes, giving himself a small moment to recover, but he knew he could not waste time. The crowd was still flinging whatever the could towards the ring. The outside was littered with uprooted chairs. Roddy ran at Ric, spearing him in the gut, against the turnbuckle. Roddy climbed up to the second rope, straddling Ric, and grabbed a slippery handful of matted blond-red hair. Roddy brought blow after blow onto Ric Flair, who finally managed to toss Rod away from him, and back atop the growing heap of trash.

Ric staggered forward, and landed a knee drop to Piper, who grabbed his nose wish gushed anew. Ric pulled himself up to his feet, and strutted (with some difficulty through the litter) around the ring, grinning through his bloody facade. Behind him Roddy had gotten up to his knees, and knee-walked towards the ropes. He hung onto the ropes, and struggled to pull himself up on watery legs. Ric continued to showboat. Roddy struggled to stand, hanging onto the ropes, nearly toppling over them at one point. The crowd was wild, shouting, pointing, but Ric continued to show off. Roddy staggered forward, dropped to his knees behind Flair, and landed a low blow that crumpled Flair.

Roddy sank down too, seemingly still weakened from the sleeper and the flow of blood from his nose. The two men lay in the trash, panting, sweaty, dirty, the rush of the crowds noise blending into a wave of meaningless roar, and washing over them both. Cups, cans, paper boxes, wrappers, and bottles continued to fly into the ring, and fall like rain around them. Both men struggled to get up, as they heard the ref counting. Both men got to their knees at about the same time. They grappled for each other, each trying to use the other to pull themselves up. In this struggle both men finally got to their feet, still clinging to one another, and then Piper spun around and locked Flair into the sleeper. The crowd exploded with boos and jeers. Ric stomped repeatedly on Rod's foot, grinding his heel in. Roddy did not seem to even notice it. He tightened his hold. Flair sputtered and struggled. He pushed backwards, attempting to throw Piper off balance. Their feet tangled with the trash in the ring, and the two toppled backwards. Piper flipped over the top rope, and landed in a heap on the outside, with a crash atop the rubble of garbage and folding chairs. Piper rolled around on the floor, as Ric leaned back against the ropes, panting and bloody.

The ref had began to count again. Roddy struggled to his knees, and crawled towards the edge of the ring, where Ric still hung limply against the ropes, his back towards Piper again. Roddy crawled towards the ring with a maniacal leer on his face. The ref continued to count. Roddy raised his fist, and slammed it into the back of Rics knee. Ric collapsed onto the mat, and Roddy grabbed him by his trunks and legs, and dragged him out beneath the bottom rope. The roar of the crowd was deafening as the two men brawled on the outside, not caring about count outs anymore. This had gone beyond the need for one man to obtain the 1-2-3 and have his hand raised as victor. Ric and Roddy fought their way up the aisle, and finally out of sight. They were greeted by a cluster of their co-workers and friends, who immediately pried them apart from each other. Greg Valentine and Tully Blanchard held Piper, who continued to struggle, as Jack and Jerry Brisco held Flair, who was raging and spitting every swear word known to man.

Men crowded around to watch, egg on, or help attempt to control, the flailing wildcats. At last each man was subdued: Ric was held down by Jack, Jerry, and now Jay Youngblood and Ricky had joined in. That had only infuriated Piper further, but he was also subdued with four men: Greg, Tully, and the added effort of Ole Anderson and Wahoo McDaniel.

After what seemed like hours of calming down, Flair and Piper were released. The two of them walked wordlessly back towards the grimy locker room. Their co-workers and friends hung back, talking amongst themselves, and giving the two men a wide berth. Ric went straight to his locker, and peeled his trunks off. His hair was stuck up with dried and clotted blood. His face was still a mask of it. The two of them were sore and filthy. Roddy watched Ric quietly. He knew the blond would want to talk sensibly, now that the two of them were alone. Ric grabbed a towel and bar of soap, and shut his locker. He turned to face Piper, his blue eyes blazing still.

"Alright, Pipes." Ric said, in the calmest voice he could muster. "What the fuck was all that about?" Ric gripped his bar of soap, and his towel dangled from his bloody hand.

"I want ya to stop fuckin' around with Steam-"

Ric cut across Roddy immediately.

"You're kiddin' me! This was all over Ricky?"

"Yeah, it was!" Roddy exclaimed. "I don't want ya to touch all over him, and kissy-kissy, and wiiiiggle your pretty ass all around for him, get it?" Roddy wiggled himself to accentuate the word.

"No, I don't fuckin' GET IT." Ric's voice had risen.

"I don't like it!" Rod went on, running a hand through his messy hair, and scratching at it. He gave it a shake. "I...you..."

Ric narrowed his eyes at Roddy.

"Wait a minute...you think my ass is pretty?" Ric raised one of his dark eyebrows. Roddy felt heat rush to his face, but he doubted Ric would notice the blush beneath the smears of blood.

"I...er...well...ya see, Ric..."

Ric stared at Piper, who was looking down at his boots sheepishly, and scratching at his ear.

"Wow. Pipes at a loss for words, I never thought I'd see the day!" Ric stepped forward, tossed his soap and towel aside, and grabbed both of Roddy's wrists. Piper fidgeted. "You're jealous."

"Ya think?" Roddy answered, though he still smiled boyishly.

"No." Ric said firmly. He gripped Roddy's dimpled chin and looked into his lively hazel eyes. "Pipes, no. I...no. I can't." Ric broke away, and paced, much the same as Roddy had done before their match.

"What d'you mean ya can't? Why the hell can't ya? Ain't I just as good as Ricky?" Roddy slapped his own chest, indicating. "I'm your best friend!"

"That's right." Ric said, jerking his locker open, and rummaging around in his duffel bag. He pulled out a bottle of Crown Royal, twisted the top off, and swallowed a long pull. The liquid burned down his throat. "I don't want nothin' ruinin' our friendship, do you hear me? Gettin' involved the way you're talkin' about...is just askin' for disaster!"

Ric took another gulp.

"Besides, you know Ric Flair doesn't tie his boat off to one dock. I like to saaaail the wide open sea, Pipes. I don't anchor nowhere for too long." He looked long and hard at Piper, and sniffed. "I can't have you jealous over every other person I touch, can I? Besides—Pipes—man, you deserve somebody better than...than me."

Roddy scowled.

"It never bothered me that you go after women. Ric, I wouldn't ask ya to change, or settle down. I wouldn't want ya to do that, ever. You wouldn't be you if you weren't...er..."

"A whore?" Ric tried.

"Ah, no—look-what I mean is...if you want a man in your life, Ric, I wanna be that man." Roddy pried the Crown bottle away from Ric, and held onto it. "As for you thinkin' you're not good enough for me...you are perfect for me, Ric. I love everything about you, and I don't want Ricky pawin' all over that everything."

"I...Pipes...I can't..."

"If we weren't friends, would ya?"

Ric was quiet, and then after a few moments, he nodded his head a bit. Roddy reached behind Ric, and placed the Crown bottle onto a shelf in Ric's locker. He took Ric's hands in his, and held them. He rubbed circles over the backs of them with his thumbs.

"Ric, let me tell you something. Nothin' you, me, or anyone can do, is gonna wreck our friendship, ever. We're gonna be old broken men one day. That ring won't want us no more, those people are gonna forget our names..."

"Stop—please...Pipes...don't..." Ric's eyes brimmed with tears, and he choked. He did not want to hear this: he needed his ring, and his fans, and he needed his Pipes too much to risk losing him.

"No, I'm not gonna stop. That's the truth, Ric. It's hard, but it's the truth—and the truth is that even then...when people forget who Ric Flair is, and who Rowdy Roddy Piper is, I'm still gonna be your Pipes. I'm not goin' anywhere, do you understand me? A team of wild horses couldn't drag me away from you!"

Tears spilled over Ric's lashes, leaving tracks against the dried blood.

"You're sure?" Ric asked in a small voice, that hardly sounded like his own.

"I am damn sure." Roddy said, and carefully, he leaned in to kiss Ric's lips.

It was a slow, exploratory kiss. It was not filled with the burning lust Ric was used to feeling when he kissed someone, it was not flowing over with his need to prove himself, it was not a kiss that would leave him numb, and empty, at the end of the night. It was not a kiss that he knew now, he would ever get enough of. His hand reached up to gently graze Rod's cheek. His fingertips whispered against the evening stubble, and traced down Rod's handsome jawline. Their tongues mingled, in no hurry to delve deeper, no struggle for dominance, just a meeting, tasting, trying, uniting. It was such a wonderful kiss. It not only shivered downwards to that needful place between Ric's legs, but it also poured into his chest, and filled him with a warmth he did not feel he deserved, but dare not let go of.

Roddy finally broke the kiss, though their lips lingered close. Roddy pressed his forehead lightly against Ric's, and closed his eyes.

"I'll buy you a new robe." He murmured, toying with a piece of Ric's sweaty, muck-caked hair.

Ric's lips quirked up into a small smile.

"You're damn right you will!" He said, and he moved past Rod, and grabbed his soap. Ric stood looking at it for a moment, and then looked up to Piper. "Y'know Pipes, I don't really like the looks of these showers." Ric commented, picking up his towel too. "Why don't we go somewhere a little more...private, hm? You can wash all the blood outta my hair..." Rick attempted to fluff his hair, but failed horribly. "And maybe show me how that kiss goes again."

Roddy grinned.

"Anything for you." Roddy said, and he meant it.