Title: No Estoy Tranquilo
Featuring: Hiroshi Tanahashi/Naito Tetsuya
Disclaimer: None, really. Slightly slashy? Implied past relationship.
Summary: "And here I thought I'd mastered the art of not caring." One-shot. Takes place during the G127.
A/N: Tell me I'm not the only one who noticed Naito's face after the match, when he was still collapsed on top of Tana...
The lights were bright, the crowd was screaming, their bodies were aching, and alive, and singing with agony and adrenaline.
Time slowed to a blurry crawl around them as Naito grabbed Tanahashi's wrist.
Twist the arm, lock it...jump, flip, and...
The sound of Hiroshi Tanahashi's head, neck, and back hitting the canvas was the sweetest thing Tetsuya Naito had heard in a long, long time.
He struggled to cover his prone opponent. Somehow, it ended up being more of a throw my body on his chest because I'm too tired to hook the leg cover; but he made it. Somehow.
One.
Two.
Three.
It was over. It was done.
I won.
Distantly, Naito could sense the referee lifting his hand, could hear the crowd cheering his hard-won victory; but he was far too exhausted to even acknowledge it.
And his mind was even further away.
I can feel his heartbeat.
For some reason, he was still laying on Tanahashi's chest; and it was as broad and strong as he remembered it.
His music was playing loudly over the arena speakers, but it sounded as though it was going at one-third its normal speed. Did I hit my head?
Tanahashi was breathing rapidly beneath him, each intake as hard and ragged as Tetsuya's own.
Of course he was exhausted too. They left their souls in the ring. And Naito needed this win, more than anyone could really understand.
Why are you always there when I...?
Tears? Who was crying at a time like this?
The Stardust Genius found his mind wandering even further away, to a time long ago. Back to a time when he had been so happy to rest his body on Tanahashi's, and listen to his heartbeat, just like he was doing now.
How peaceful and happy those times had been. How confusing and difficult, trying to keep up with the man that was Hiroshi. Whereas Tana was a shining star, Naito was, at the time, a shrinking violet.
They never even officially ended things. It just faded into nothing.
No.
I faded into nothingness.
But fuck you, Tana, I came back.
Mingled with Tanahashi's sweat were Naito's warm tears.
His heart, his breathing, thundering in a that same steady rhythm.
Although Tana was nearly unconscious, Naito could still feel something pass between them.
His body curled around Tana's; so instinctive, so natural.
Muscle memory is a bitch. Actual memory is even worse.
Did you know your tongue hangs out when you're really enjoying it? Tana had asked him playfully one day after a particularly long sex-session. Tetsuya had been embarrassed about it, at first, but the Ace convinced him that it was just another endearing trait he possessed.
Apparently, to Tanahashi, everything about Naito was perfect back then.
I hate you so much/I love you so much.
The ring aides pulled their bodies apart, and Naito looked up to see him new family—his real family, surrounding him.
He would always have Los. They loved him in a way Tanahashi never did, never could. And they would never hurt him in the way that—
Tetsuya looked down at Hiroshi as the ref helped him to his feet. His heart hurt so badly, and it was making him angry. Angry enough to want to kick the prone form of the man he had once admired and loved so much.
But he didn't; and when he finally lifted his eyes, he saw Bushi giving him a look.
Are you okay? the masked man asked wordlessly, obviously concerned. In fact, all three four men in the ring seemed uncertain. They had never really seen Tetsuya off-balance like this.
Naito spared one last glance down at Tanahashi as he was rolled out of the ring, still limp.
"I'm okay," he lied softly, reaching for the microphone, pushing away from everyone to stand on his own. He gripped the microphone in his shaking hands.
"Estoy tranquilo."