Alright, let's get this straight. Rocky Balboa, my trusted friend and good boxer man, is pretty much in love. Trust me, he may say he's not, but he is. Name's Zoaren, but you don't need to know about me. This is how it happened. So shush your faces and read it! Sorry ;D Prepare yourself for relentless quotes from other things.
Rocky's POV:
He sat there, looking at the casket. Zoaren said that she will always be with him, as long as he believes it. But that's how he knows she's gone. Rocky just can't keep believing. So with great hesitation, the brunette stood up and walked down the aisle towards the entrance. Leaving the wooden casket on the platform, not daring to look back. On the way out, Rocky's eyes looked around the large community center once again. Looking at the stone pillars with tapestries of stories laid upon them. That just wouldn't make him so sad, if there weren't so many angels on them.
Adrian died too soon for an angel like her. Proving that death doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. It just takes and it takes and it takes. But mourning wasn't what Adrian would've wanted him to do. She wouldn't want him to throw away his shot. He kept walking staring at his feet, letting his vision blur as he remembered how it all happened.
"Adrian, please don't go." Rocky shouted. Squeezing her limp hand as the heart monitor slowed, and the beat dropped to where only a single beep was heard. The doctor said she died peacefully, but then again, doesn't everyone in a hospital. So he sat staring at her, the hands of his friends on his shoulders. Her last words were, "Don't stop going, not for me atleast. You'll always be a fighter. Fight for me, Robert, and Mickey… So please. Don't stop living. May you... always be... satisfied…"
He sat there, all night. Waiting for her to wake up. Zoaren, Troy, and Finnick sat there with him. But even they fell asleep into a calm slumber, while he sat and stared at her. She told him that it wouldn't work. That something, whether it be love or death, would pull them apart. "It's because we aren't mates, isn't it?" She had said with a chuckle. Lying on a hospital bed, and she could somehow still crack a joke. "That shouldn't matter for nothin," Rocky had replied.
Now, he doesn't know what he would've said to her. So he just kept walking down the cold, dark street with nothing but the streetlights to guide him.
….Couple days later….
Rocky sat with Apollo at the interview, scanning the crowd as reporters and journalists surrounded the elevated platform. He pulled off his best "I'm happy but not" smile, as Zoaren calls it. He and his brothers were gone at the moment, said they had to pick up their sisters. So that's why the great, mighty Balboa sat in the eye of the hurricane with Apollo. Questions flying around the room as the darker-skinned man addresses each and every one of them. "Apollo! Apollo! Please tell us your thoughts on this newest match!" a woman shouted.
"About that mam, there's not much to say. All I can tell you is that Drago-," He pauses before glancing over to the large blonde, " has another thing comin for him."
When Balboa looked over he saw the Russian sitting in silence, his wife and his manager answered all the questions. The blonde was emotionless, but he didn't know what to expect from the Russian. Only for Drago to turn and catch his gaze for a mere second, Rocky staring back as if trying to read him. What does this guy think he's doing? While glancing at the brute of a man, Rocky picked up on one of the questions asked.
"Is Mr. Drago using any steroids, stimulants, or other enhancing forms of medicine?" A stout, pudgy man asked. Mr. Koloff answered with a simple, "No." Before turning away to look elsewhere.
As much as Rocky would love to listen in on the wonderful conversation that everyone was having, he couldn't. There was just this gut-wrenching feeling within him that wouldn't subdue itself. He took a quick sniff, letting his nose identify the scent. It's another wolf? He questioned, before looking around to see if he could spot any unusual signs. This can't be good, and I know Apollo can probably smell it too. Without a second thought, Rocky nudged Apollo slightly with his arm whispering, "Do you smell that? It's quite strong and… Strangely sweet smellin?" Apollo looked at him like he was in wolf form with a huge grin.
"Rocky, that smell your smellin, has gotta be your mate! You make it sound like the smell I smelt when I met my baby, Mary Anne!" He exclaimed in a hushed tone. Apollo never did fail to amaze Rocky at times like this.
My mate? Why does my mate have to be here?! Rocky mentally cursed to himself. He didn't have time to fall in love! "Look, dat ain't important. Just focus on the interviews an' stuff. I'll work this out." He said softly before turning his head back to the open room. "Be careful Rocky, they might smell the omega in ya." The questions continued and comments were exchanged for a short amount of time before the inevitable happened. Now wasn't the time, even if his urges wanted it.
"Hey! Apollo, cut it out!" Rocky shouted as Creed pushed against him to try to throw a punch at Drago. They'd done this game before. Rocky holds back the tiger and Apollo tries to break the wall. But there it was again, the scent. It was much closer this time. He must've let it take over because Apollo was no longer charging at him, watching Rocky steady himself with the long table. It smells like… snow? Suddenly, there are large hands on his back, pulling him towards the owner of said hands.
Ivan's POV:
What am I doing? Ivan asked himself as he pulled Balboa towards him. His smirk that he originally wore from watching the dumb display gone, replaced with a snarl. What am I doing!? He mentally yelled as he pressed Balboa to his side, holding his waist close.
The room had gone silent, as Ivan looked at Creed to see his eyes were just as wide as everyone else's. He was going to let go of Balboa before he smelled it again, but this time it was right under his nose. Ivan couldn't tell what it was, but his mind strived for it. The large blonde continued his defensive stance, giving off a low growl. "Stop." He stated, thick Russian accent rolling off his tongue. At least I packed it. Ivan thought to himself, looking down at the tile floor.
"Aye! Drago! Lemme go will ya? Apollo ain't tryin to kill me! I'm fine," He exclaimed, the last part soft to Ivan's ears. Balboa struggled a little in his arm, letting his small back and side brush against Ivan's larger one. The blonde's eyes went wide with the small sensation. What is this?
Hesitantly, his arm slowly unwound itself from around Balboa's waist. The urge to touch the American again frightened the Russian. His face turning a deep red with the realization of what he had done. I should have taken the wolf-suppressants, I wouldn't have been so overwhelmed by the scents. Ivan watched as the American was pulled away by Apollo, leaving Ivan to stare as the brunette receded with the darker man. A certain burn creeped its way into his gut as he watched the other walk away with that Beta. Balboa had looked back, confusion placed on his face. Какого черта? Why did I do that?! Ivan looked down before retreating into a nearby hallway. He walked slowly, trying to rid his thoughts of the boxer.
"Drago! Иди сюда!" Yelled an upset-sounding voice.
Ivan turned to see Nikoli stomping towards him. So he kept his head down, and awaited the inevitable. As Nikoli's footsteps came near, Ivan heard the paced tapping stop, before a stinging pain hit his left cheek.
"That was a disgrace! What do you think you were doing!? Touching that American дерьмо! How dare you disgracefully represent Mother Russia and her Soviet Union!" Nikolai continued, as the larger male just stood and stared at the smooth floor. He stopped listening, getting trapped in his own thoughts as Mr. Koloff marched in the opposite direction. Why do I do this… He thought, before turning to leave.
...Mere hours later...
What am I doing here? Ivan asked himself, looking around the dim streets he was in. How lucky am I to be alive right now? He asked himself in a sarcastic tone before walking down a nearby alley.
The alley was large for an alley, giving way to a huge building to Ivan's left and a small coffee shop to his right. And what a shock it was to look to his right, and find the infamous Rocky Balboa sitting outside the small shop. Ivan didn't know what to do except stand and stare, an urge driving him to speak to the American. His heart was loud in his chest, trying to escape. He didn't understand this feeling at all, it almost scared him.
Walk away! Walk away! He shouted at himself mentally, about to walk off and forget the near encounter. Until a voice broke the mental shouting saying, Go on, speak with him. You know you want to… Before trailing off. Maybe I shou- "Hey, Drago!" a voice shouted to him. Cutting off his thoughts, the blonde turned to find Balboa calling to him from where he was seated. "Don't just stand there, c'mere!" The brunette shouted, giving a wave towards him.
Ivan started to slowly shuffle over to him, looking down at the sitting man. Heart thumping even louder, so much so that Ivan was sure Balboa could hear it. "What're you doing here? This ain't the norm for a Ruski," Balboa asked, looking the man up and down. "I am taking walk. And you?" The Russian questioned, watching as the man stood from his seat after placing down a couple bills.
"Just leavin'," The smaller male answered, raising a brow to Ivan. "Mind if I tag along, my place ain't too far from here?" Ivan was a little starstruck now. Had America's hero, just asked the Soviet Union's champion, to a walk? "Нет. You may come," Ivan answered, staring as Balboa started to walk by his side as the larger male strolled down the alley.