It's been a long year. Highlighting Cass' thoughts is the pure silence of the rooms behind him, Enzo fast asleep for once. He sits by the window and stares out at the late night world before him, very few cars on the road leading away from their apartment at this hour. They have last minute media things in the morning, he should be sleeping as easily as his partner, but no. The tag belts are within their grasp, finally, and he's antsy.

The last time they were this close, after all, Enzo had concussed himself. Had left Cass thinking he was dying right there, on national TV, for the whole world to see. And yeah, things had worked out on that front, Enzo had survived and recovered in record time, but still. Their careers had never recovered, until a few weeks ago when things began to twist in their favor. It's still a sick gnawing sensation deep in his guts, though, all of the memories of Enzo getting hurt since they'd debuted on the main roster. The concussion, the beat downs by Rusev, his knee injury, the bruising, the general all around pain... Cass scrubs at his face, trying so hard not to dwell on it.

He's still sitting there, staring out at clouds brushing past the moon, when he hears sounds of life behind him. Grimacing, he's about to turn to urge Enzo back to bed, aware that his partner needs as much sleep as possible, considering he has a worse sleep schedule than Mojo Rawley sometimes, when Enzo leans against his back, warm and sleep-heavy, wrapping his arms around his neck. "What are ya doin' out here, big guy?" he asks, beard brushing against Cass' cheek as he leans in to look out as well. "Moon that fascinatin'?"

"Just thinkin'," he says. "Been a long year, yeah?" Enzo hums, then shifts so he's sitting in Cass' lap, resting his head against his shoulder. "You be careful out there tomorrow. Those ropes ain't your friend, I don't want you doin' something stupid on a ladder, alright?"

Enzo smirks. "I'll be fine, big guy. Trust me, I ain't going to wreck our chances again." He laces his fingers with Cass' and exhales, closing his eyes. "This what you been out here reflectin' on? My concussion? That was ages ago, Cass. I'm fine. Doc checked me out just a few days ago, 'member?"

Cass nods against him, shrugging. "I know, it's just... hardta forget, you know?"

"Hey, it was my head, trust me I know," Enzo chuckles. "But we got lady luck on our side, and we ain't even in Vegas. You'll see, this time tomorrow we won't be starin' at no moon. We'll be starin' at our names on those belts."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," Cass murmurs, nuzzling into Enzo's mussed up hair. "C'mon, let's get some sleep before we have to get this show on the road." He hoists Enzo up easily and carries him out of the room, ignoring his complaints and squirming until he can deposit him safely onto the bed.

-x

It's not ideal, to be honest. They had been hoping for their rematch for the tag belts. Something, anything... but opener on any card sets the mood for the night ahead, and they try to be content with their role on this, their very first Wrestlemania. "We're gonna do it together, right?" Chad asks with a small smirk. It's kind of optimistic in a way that would disgust most people, but he can't imagine winning a match without Jason by his side, celebrating with him.

"Hell yeah," Jason tells him, looking up from the WWE program he'd gotten his hands on, flicking through it just to pass the time, kill some nerves. Things like that. "Of course we are, Alpha joint Andre the Giant Battle Royal winners sounds pretty damn good to me."

Chad grins back at him and leans over to tap a finger against their picture. "Then we'll win these back," he says, indicating the tag belts still on their shoulders in the outdated reflection of them.

"Of course. It's all part of the agenda," Jason agrees, his eyes fixed on the titles that had been so suddenly taken away from them. "We'll have so many gold and trophies that we won't have room for it all." Chad grins at the thought of it and nods.

So yeah, things aren't ideal. But they will stay strong and make the best of it like they always do. Together, side by side facing down whoever or whatever may get in their way.

-x

Wrestlecon lets out two hours before Wrestlemania. Wade wanders the warm streets of Florida for awhile before finding himself outside of the arena that will soon host the big event; the first that he won't be apart of in some fashion in years. He exhales and shoots off a quick text to Heath, unsurprised when the man comes out and waves him in, leading him into a quiet part of the building. "All done for the day?"

"Yes." Wade cups his face and lazily kisses him. "You gearing up to win the Battle Royal?"

"Are you gonna predict I'm winnin' it this year? Since that worked out so well in years prior," Heath teases, smirking up at him.

"Hey, I have no say this year," he shrugs. "Sorry." His eyes pass from person to person before turning back to look at Heath. "Drew here?" He's pleased for the man, but still. It leaves him a little bothered that he is back in WWE's umbrella without Wade around to mediate, make sure Drew doesn't still have improper ideas when it comes to his former 3MB leader.

"Haven't seen him," Heath shrugs. "Prolly around somewhere. You're not jealous, are ya?" He grins, pokes Wade in the chest.

Wade rolls his eyes and catches his hand, squeezing it before letting him go. "Bloody unlikely, that is. I just want to make sure he knows his place this time around."

"Uh huh. I doubt you have anything to worry about there." They're still standing there, watching the people bustling, when Rhyno joins them. "'Sides, if Drew does anythin', I got Rhyno here to set him straight. Ain't that right, manbeast?"

Rhyno nods, glancing over at Wade. "Yep. No one's gonna touch him while I'm around."

Wade likes Rhyno, those few weeks around Christmas where he seemed to be about to leave Heath behind notwithstanding. "I like the sounds of that," he says simply, looking around. "Well, I suppose I should find my seat. Looks like the show's about to begin." He leans in and kisses Heath. "Do well tonight. Take care of him," he adds to Rhyno, who nods simply.

"It's every man for himself," Heath laughs, rolling his eyes fondly at Wade.

"I don't care," Wade mumbles, kissing him once more before taking his leave with a wave over his shoulder.

Heath shrugs and smirks over at Rhyno. "Come on, man, let's go get ready for this thing."

-x

"Be careful," Okada tells Nakamura, watching him on the screen of his phone. "Your knee, hai?"

"My knee will hold," Shinsuke promises him. "I won't risk it unneccessarily, but I will be NXT champion again. There are new belts, I will be the first to defend it."

Okada nods, his eyes glancing over at his own belt. He definitely understands how Nakamura is feeling. "I believe you will. I wish I was there with you."

"I wish you were too," Nakamura says, looking up as a tech knocks on the door, signaling him. "It has been nice to see and talk to you before I go out though. I have to go out now."

"I'll be watching," Okada tells him. "When you are done, I will be here. I want to see that belt first hand."

Nakamura nods, rests a finger against the screen briefly. "I will be back." It's a promise, it's a vow.

That belt has to be his. Shinsuke can't imagine anything else.

-x

Dolph stirs to find Zack looking out of his new house's window. "What're you doing, kid?" he slurs, reaching out for him.

Zack turns and smiles at him, walking over to re-join him on the couch. "Just thinking. I wish I was cleared to compete." He stares down at his knee in frustration, biting his lip as Dolph reaches down and runs his finger over the scar spanning his knee, which is still an uncomfortable, squirmy kind of sensation.

"I do too, kid, but at least you're recovering ahead of schedule, right?" Dolph nuzzles into his shoulder, lightly kissing his neck.

"Yeah," he sighs. "And at least I can watch you kick ass in Andre the Giant Battle Royal."

"Are you cheering for me over Mojo?" Dolph teases.

"Can't I cheer for you both?" Zack smirks at him, shaking his head when Dolph huffs unhappily. "You're still my favorite." He kisses Dolph quickly before settling back against the couch cushions, exhaling when Dolph squeezes him.

"Will we have room for the trophy among all of your Funko crap?"

Zack rolls his eyes, then pauses. "I'll make room."

Dolph laughs and nudges Zack. "You are obsessed."

"It could be worse," he sighs. "I could be obsessed with Zubaz..."

"Mojo's suit at the Hall of Fame," Dolph grimaces at the memory. "I was embarassed for him." Zack chuckles, tilting his head to kiss Dolph. "You should give him some pointers, you looked hot in that suit." His hand is resting warmly on Zack's lower back and Zack grins at him.

"Sweet talker," he mumbles, resting his head on Dolph's shoulder. "Axxess is starting in like half an hour. Should we get up?"

"I guess," Dolph grouses, not wanting to leave the couch. "If we have to."

"I think we do." Zack chuckles when Dolph sighs heavily. "C'mon, it'll be Wrestlemania before you know it."

"Hmph." Dolph concedes, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet enough to lean in for another kiss. "Fine. Let's go."

Zack's responding grin almost makes leaving the couch worth it.

-x

"So," Ciampa says, looking out at the ring while waiting for the three-way tag elimination match. "Are we ready?"

"I am," Johnny says, adjusting his wrist tape. Ciampa nods and looks over at them. They'd had a long road, from the CWC to being tag champs, to this. Here. His ribs, Johnny's knee, everything else. "Hey, it's gonna be fine."

Ciampa nods, not surprised that Johnny had read him, had realized he was nervous. Authors of Pain is nothing to joke about, neither is Revival. A lot of things could go wrong tonight. He's shifting a triangle of fabric absentmindedly, gaze distant as he looks out at the ring, and then Johnny takes up his line of sight, tugging the item from his hands. "What-"

"Here." Carefully, Johnny ties the bandana around Ciampa's head and adjusts it so it looks perfect. "How's that?"

Tomasso looks up at what he can see of the design. "That feels fine," he says. "Thanks." They stare at each other for a few moments. "Guess it's time to go," he mumbles, hearing their music kick in.

Johnny nods, quickly getting into position. "Kick some ass, partner."

"You too," Ciampa murmurs, glancing at his partner's profile and seeing no hesitation there. It stables his nerves. With Johnny by his side, he feels like he can do anything, win any match. "Let's go."

-x

Seth is asleep. Dean is watching him. So much had passed, time, emotions, pain. All coming to a crux at this. Wrestlemania. He wants to encourage Seth, he wants to wrap him up and keep him safe. He's not sure what he wants. His eyes scopes down Seth's body, resting on his knee. It's more stable than it had been when Seth first injured it, but still. Anxiety gnaws at Dean. He'd had his own problems, of course, his ribs still aching whenever he moves wrong, but he has no real concern about Corbin. His only worry is Seth and this stubborn vendetta he has against HHH.

He understands, he'd wanted to tear HHH to pieces quite a few times over the years, but still. He worries. Kneeling on the bed, he touches Seth's knee carefully and thinks about if tonight goes poorly. If Seth loses, if Seth gets injured worse, if... if... if...

"What're you doing?" Seth's voice cuts into the darkness, makes Dean jump.

But his answer is simple, comes out without much thought. "Willing some of my strength into your knee," he murmurs. "So that you can kick Hunter's ass tonight."

Seth coughs, sits up. "Better keep some of that for yourself," he says, ghosting a hand over Dean's chest, above where the forklift had rested only a few weeks prior. "I'll be fine, I have to be."

Dean's eyes are fixed, steady when he meets Seth's gaze. "Yes, you do." They sit for awhile, quietly thinking over the evening looming before them.

"I will defeat HHH," he continues on. "I will regain that part of myself HHH warped and tried to meld in his image. I'll finally recognize myself again."

Dean half-smiles. "For awhile, it was hard to recognize you, but since you returned from your knee injury, it's like the old Seth's returned piece by piece. I've missed him."

"I did too," Seth admits, coughing into his fist. He's suffering from a cold, as well, which does nothing to calm Dean's nerves, but he does seem better than he'd been on Thursday when he didn't even want to get out of bed to go work out and Dean had sat with him, trying to get him to drink tea, eat soup, all of those questionable internet recommendations. "All this time I thought redesign, rebuild and reclaim was for my championship... never imagined it'd be for the real Seth Rollins."

Dean's lips quirk up further. "Yeah, well, should've known, huh? All of the catchy phrases mean nothing unless you know best to apply them."

Seth rolls his eyes and pushes at Dean gently before shuffling to get up, planting his feet on the ground and standing under Dean's watchful eye. His balance is fine, his walk is sure. If not for a brief grimace of pain on his face the first few steps, there'd be no sign of a problem. "Time to get moving," he says, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezing. "Big day ahead."

"That's for sure," Dean murmurs, tracking his progress towards the bathroom.

Never say never in the wrestling world; if Dean could get his brother back, he has no doubt Seth will defeat HHH in the end. He just hopes it doesn't cost Seth any more of himself.