Title: If These Walls Could Talk
Rating: T
Pairing: Undertaker/Kane
Disclaimer: I do not own. But I do own the sick and twisted thoughts that enter my head. *snicker*
If These Walls Could Talk
The flashing glimpse of the perfect emerald green eyes of my older brother were the last thing I saw before my back connected hard with the ring mat below me. It felt as if an elephant was sitting on my chest, my opponent covering me for the three count. The bell rang, only making the throbbing pain in my head worse. I didn't move for a few minutes after that, my subconscious too disoriented to register if I was able to open my eyes or not. I took in a deep breath, finding it quite difficult to take in the much needed oxygen I so desperately needed, a sharp pain going through my chest. Bright light rays shined in my two-toned eyes, inaudible voices calling out to me. I felt a warm hand on my rather cold frame, my head turning slightly to see the blurry image of a figure kneeling down next to me. The gloved hand caressed my forehead and cheek tenderly, reassuring me that I would survive this little ordeal. I knew that hand anywhere. I guessed correctly as my vision began to clear, the worried expression on my brother's face fading into a small smile. I smiled back as he caressed my bald head with the utmost care.
"Kane, can you hear me?" I gave a thumbs up to the medical personnel on my other side, as he checked for any serious injuries.
"Sometimes I wonder if you do this just to make me worry." My brother's tone was soft and gentle, careful not to cause me any more discomfort. I gave a light chuckle, regretting it almost immediately, violent coughing now rattling my chest cavity. A firm hand found its way to my chest, calming my racing heart. Mark's face was inches from mine, the expression playing his features to distraught for anyone to imagine. I lifted my gloved hand, my fingers tangling in his long dark locks, pushing them back behind his ear. No words were said as he shed his intimidating stature, his older brother instincts taking over. He slipped his hand behind my head, helping me get into a sitting position. I was then lifted to my feet, my weight being supported by my brother, his arm snaking around my waist. No words were exchanged between the two of us as he helped me out of the ring. Fans ate up the moment before them, as I tried to stand on my own, failing miserably, my knees buckling beneath me. I waited for impact but it never came. I pried my eyes open, my brother above me, his arms locked around my waist. I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling his gaze all over me. He smiled and helped me back up, taking one step at a time towards the ramp. We slowly made it towards the back, the both of us enjoying the company of the other. We got back to the locker room, Mark disappearing into the bathroom for a moment as I used the wall for support. He came back, wet rag in hand. He helped me over to the bench and sat down, my body stretched out, my head being lowered into his lap. He pressed the rag against my face, the cold cloth bringing my pounding head some much needed relief. Our eyes locked as he tried to make me as comfortable to the best of his abilities, his fingertips gliding over my head, a soothing sensation now taking over my body. I smiled and closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, his normally rough hand grazing my swollen cheek. He smiled back, leaning down and pressing his lips firmly to my forehead, my body now too weak and exhausted to attempt to move. We slept at the arena that night, not wanting to move and disturb the precious moment we shared. Vince came in later that night, smiling at the two of us. Both of us were fast asleep, our hands laced with that of the other, smiles still lingering on our face. Vince closed the door and walked down the hall, a warm sensation filling his heart. He knew there was a reason he loved his job and our little scene now topped his list.