Note: Crossposted to Ao3. Set around the May 30th episode of RAW.

Two weeks. That was all it took for Tyler to realize… There may just be something to the whole Fandango thing.

It hadn't seemed like much of anything, at first. He was attractive. He was confident. He seemed more than willing to show Tyler the respect that he deserved as probably the most gorgeous Superstar the WWE had to offer. So of course Tyler wanted to sleep with him. And that had turned out well, so there was nothing wrong with wanting to keep doing so.

But that was the key word: probably. Before all this, before the whole Golden Truth fiasco came together, Tyler never would have hesitated to suggest that he was at the top of the list. Somehow, though, he had caught himself hesitating lately before saying that. Fandango had something about him that made him take notice. He hadn't been able to keep him off his mind.

That was the other thing. Tyler never gave more than a moment's thought to anyone. He rather prided himself on that fact. No one occupied brain space for Tyler unless they were actually present. Why would they? None of them mattered. They weren't important. Not compared to Tyler.

After one too many sleepless nights that Tyler's gorgeous face just could not afford, he made a decision.

He'd planned to bring it up with Fandango after RAW. They lost. Probably due to the fact that he was distracted, which was utterly ridiculous. Tyler Breeze did not get distracted by a pretty face. He was the pretty face. Trying to pull some shit to impress his tag-team partner was not on the card, nor should it have been. And taking a loss to the Usos, of all people? That stung worst of all. By the time he was alone with Fandango after their match, he was irritable, sore, and not in any mood to be fucked with.

He had almost made up his mind not to mention it at all when he felt Fandango's hand settle on his lower back and the muscular lines of the dancer's body draw in close beside him.

"You okay, Breeze?"

Tyler's eyelids fluttered, then snapped open again in irritation. He didn't have to take that shit from his own body. "You're the one who got pinned."

Fandango didn't say anything to that, but nor did he pull away. The gentle touch on his back was starting to annoy him, so Tyler shrugged the hand away and reached for a shirt to cover up the action. They remained in silence until they were both fully dressed, both men stripping out of their ring gear in front of the other like it didn't mean anything. Which it probably didn't.

As Tyler turned to leave, intending to make his way out without another word, Fandango was there, pressing him into the wall and kissing him. It was probably only meant to be something soft and brief; it felt something like an apology, perhaps. It soon became something more, open-mouthed and frantic, leaving Tyler breathless, his body humming.

Well. That probably meant they had to talk, didn't it? Tyler couldn't let this continue. The effect that Fandango had on him was something he couldn't remember having experienced before. It made his body feel like it wasn't his own, occupied his thoughts, made him feel overeager and needy and yet comfortable, all at once.

"Alright, listen," he gasped out, as Fandango pulled away from the kiss. "If you're gonna be my boyfriend, we need to talk a few more ground rules."

Fandango's head had dropped, slightly, to kiss at Tyler's throat, and though this meant Tyler couldn't see the expression on his face, he certainly got the gist. Fandango had frozen, his shoulders going tense, a gasp of breath touching Tyler's neck and sending a shiver up his spine. He waited, silently, for these words to register, for the dancer to form a response. It took a while. Slowly, as though afraid of what he might see, Fandango lifted his head, meeting Tyler's gaze with his own. Tyler knew he looked impatient, annoyed, a thousand things Fandango probably didn't want to see, but he made no effort to soften his expression.

"Did I hear that right?" Fandango's voice was little more than a breath, and Tyler refused to let himself read too much into it.

"I assume so."

"Boyfriend."

"Yeah. I got rules for that too." He didn't say, surprise, surprise, because his tone of voice said that for him.

Fandango went silent again, and his expression could have been termed thoughtful if Tyler wasn't 90% sure that he was just as incapable of complex thought as Tyler liked to pretend to be. Or maybe Fandango pretended as well. That was an interesting possibility.

Finally, after what could have been a few seconds or an era, Fandango whispered back, "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, tell me your rules."

Tyler didn't know why he'd been holding his breath, waiting for that moment. He knew he was an amazing catch and hadn't expected that Fandango would do something so foolish as turn him down. Not really, anyway. Then again, maybe Fandango would have chafed at the idea of more rules to follow, or would be too shocked by Tyler bringing it up to say anything at all. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted to get serious with someone who would always make him look second-best. Maybe he would think Tyler wasn't worth it.

He clearly hadn't thought any of those things, though, because here they were. The worst part was that now, looking at Fandango, his lips wet, expression so patient waiting for Tyler "high-maintenance" Breeze to explain himself, he couldn't remember what he'd even been planning to say.

It was ridiculous, really. There was no reason for Fandango to tolerate this from him. Not just accepting that Tyler had rules to obey, but… looking at him like he'd put up with any amount of bullshit for him. Like he could make up the most nonsense conditions and Fandango would still just nod and accept it. Strong hands curled around his hips like he was all that mattered, just waiting for whatever came next. Honestly, it didn't even feel fair.

The words died on his lips as he leaned forward to close the gap between them, nose lightly brushing against nose before they kissed again. This time it really was soft and sweet, a heat sort of distantly hidden in it but not the main focus. It wasn't a kiss to try things out, or as a precursor to sex. It was just a kiss because he wanted it. One of the hands on his hip slid to the small of his back again, and he loosely slung his arms around Fandango's shoulders to keep close.

As they parted for another breath, Fandango asked, softly, his lips still mere inches from Tyler's, "So rule one is?"

"Oh, hell," Tyler murmured back. "You'll figure them out."

"Tyler Breeze's boyfriend," Fandango had murmured to himself as he climbed into the passenger seat of the rental car. It was quiet enough that he probably thought Tyler hadn't heard him, and his voice was filled with a strange sort of wonderment.

"What are you talking about?" Tyler asked, irritably. He hadn't intended to snap; he'd just caught sight of his own reflection in the rear view mirror. He looked like hell. Those nights of bad sleep hadn't done him any favours, and he looked all flushed and sweaty. Unkempt, and not in a sexy way. In a messy way that faintly reminded him of some of the uggos he had to share a job with. Was his lip swollen from that kick to the face, or was it just his imagination? God. Fandango had better be worth it.

Fandango had shot him a sidelong look at that, but all he said was, "Just seeing how it feels on my tongue. Never expected you to be that type."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, then." Tyler actually tried, a little, to keep the negative emotions out of his voice. He didn't succeed, entirely, but judging from the slightly relaxed look on Fandango's face, he had noticed the effort had been made.

"I'll learn." Fandango reached across to rest his hand on Tyler's thigh; Tyler's automatic response was to jerk away, but he forced himself to relax into the touch, dropping one of his hands to cover the other man's. Despite himself, a small smile crept across his face.

Tyler insisted on at least actually travelling as far as the nearest big city to stay together somewhere passably nice, where they could share a suite. Without Tyler's positive influence, Fandango probably would have been happy with staying in some pedestrian 3-star hotel that was the best this trash-heap where RAW was filmed had to offer, and there was no way Tyler was putting himself through that any more often than he strictly had to. Besides, Tyler figured, if they were going to do this couple thing, they ought to do it properly.

Over the past two weeks, if they were going into the same hotel room, it was with the express intent of sleeping together. It was always Tyler's room, because he always chose where he was staying very deliberately and wasn't willing to compromise for anyone, and Fandango always ended up staying the night because, well, Tyler never told him to leave. This was different, though, because this time they went in intending to be together until morning, and probably longer. That was oddly pressuring. It meant there were few other options if this didn't work out.

Not that it was going to not work out. Tyler Breeze didn't bother with things that wouldn't work out well for him.

Fandango had suggested, in a low voice, that they experience the jetted tub together, but Tyler had waved him off with a vaguely snotty remark about already having experienced jetted tubs in a sufficiently wide variety of hotels across the world. The truth was, he could feel his body vibrating with something that he could almost term anxiety. Tyler wasn't any stranger to being sexual with someone, but this… this felt different. It was something more than the shallow vanity of sharing his body with someone passingly attractive. It felt a little like saying, you've seen my body. Now look at my soul.

It was terrifying.

Moody silence wasn't doing anything to calm the treacherous voice in his head, so eventually, Tyler decided to try another approach. It was late, and yet Fandango hadn't suggested getting any sleep, instead sitting up in the parlor room of their suite with his phone in hand, headphones on. Tyler was fairly sure he could hear the tinny sounds of music bleeding through, and he resolved to buy his boyfriend some higher quality sound equipment, but he was just as sure Fandango wasn't really listening, or paying any attention to his screen, for that matter. He'd noticed the way Fandango's dark eyes were tracking his every move through the doorway as he stripped off for bed.

Self-conscious in a way he hadn't been in years, Tyler padded barefoot into the parlor room and settled himself onto the floor next to the lounge. Fandango's eyes flickered to him, then back to his phone screen. Maybe a little too deliberately. When Tyler turned his head to press a kiss against Fandango's thigh, just underneath the hem of his silk shorts, he felt the shiver that resulted and saw the way the grip on his phone tightened just a little. And yet, Fandango didn't say anything. Perfect.

Carefully, slowly, giving plenty of time for Fandango to object if he had a mind to do so, Tyler hooked his fingers in Fandango's waistband and slid the shorts down. Fandango lifted his hips to assist, but still stayed silent. He was looking at Tyler properly, now, his phone falling onto the cushion beside him. Tyler felt his eyes flutter closed; for the first time he could remember, he didn't want to know how much he was being looked at.

He settled himself on his knees in between Fandango's parted thighs and leaned in to press a kiss to the side of his erection. That definitely earned a response. Tyler could feel the tremor go through his lover, more out of expectation than pleasure. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and trace a slow pattern over the head of Fandango's cock, before he started to draw it into his mouth. He moved slowly, taking it just an inch at a time then rocking back before going deeper again. Tyler couldn't even remember the last time he'd done this, gotten on his knees for someone, so he was vaguely aware that he could probably be doing a better job of it. If he could, though, Fandango was polite enough to not let him know it.

On an impulse, Tyler reached with both hands for Fandango's and led them to the back of his head. That was the best way he could think to express the emotion thrumming through his veins and roaring in his ears.

I'm yours.

Tyler could feel fingers twisting into his hair, almost tentatively, then pulling a little harder and guiding his head into the desired rhythm. A rush burst through him. A part of him wanted to protest at being treated that way, however much he'd invited the action. A bigger part of him, a part of him he'd later deny he ever felt, relished it. He'd long held that he wouldn't do this, what he was doing now, because he utterly failed to see what he would possibly get out of it, and Tyler had little time for sex acts where he didn't at all benefit. He was starting to see the appeal.

"You're so beautiful," Fandango croaked out, as though each syllable was a struggle. Tyler couldn't help but preen, just a little, at the words. Or, perhaps, a lot. He knew he was pretty; he had eyes, it was impossible to deny it. It was still nice to hear that someone still thought it was true when he'd had a horrible day. Comforting to know that someone would still say it even when he'd already given them everything he had to offer.

As more praise fell from his lover's, his boyfriend's, lips, Tyler hummed around the cock in his mouth, then sucked hard. Fandango's hand leafing through his hair was going to leave him looking hopelessly dishevelled, and he just knew his jaw was going to ache all the next day. And yet, he couldn't think of anything more appealing than listening to the beautiful melody of Fandango approaching climax.

Tyler was certain he'd never been less pretty in his life than when he finally withdrew his head, the semen he'd neglected to swallow dripping down his chin. He was a little too proud to wipe it away, and in any case, it was hard to care too much when he opened his eyes and realized that Fandango was looking at him in something like awe, like Tyler had hung the moon.

"I thought you said -"

"We're not talking about this." Tyler pulled himself to his feet as gracefully as he thought he could manage under the circumstances, rolling his eyes theatrically. Doing it was one thing, but talking about it… well, he was still entirely unprepared for that.

He could hear Fandango forming the first syllable of his name as he swept into the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind him. He knew he was being, well, kind of a drama queen about the whole thing, but that couldn't be helped. There was only so much of himself he could give in one day, and that conversation was probably a bridge too far.

Tyler spent a little longer than he probably needed to getting ready for bed, washing his face and combing his hair while staring at his face in the mirror, hard. When he came back out, Fandango was waiting for him in bed. He curled up into his chest silently, until he heard the other man's breathing become slow and rhythmic and he felt it safe to slip out of his embrace and let sleep overtake him.