Title: Reflection
Rating: T
Fandom: Wrestling, WWE
Pairing: Adam/Jay
Summary: One day, you look in the mirror and you realize you're growing up. A relationship in 4 parts. Adam/Jay, slash.
One day, you look in the mirror and you realize you're growing up, but you don't tell him that.
It's not just the way you look. The clothes you wear or the muscles that you're developing or even the harried expression on your face.
You can't see your thoughts in the mirror, of course, but something in your reflection says you were not this person mere months ago. The one that worries about where your next meal is coming from and whether tonight will be one of those nights you don't get paid.
He walks up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. You make a nice picture together, tall and blond and good looking. He's smiling like he knows you're worrying. He doesn't know it's him you worry about.
You want to raise your hand, touch his cheek, lean back into his arms, something. But he's just trying to be cute; he doesn't know what he does to you. He says your name in that gentle, cajoling way and you smile back at him.
You have to be growing up, because being a kid never felt like this. You study his reflection and worry that he's looking thin. You think he shouldn't spend another night sleeping in the car. Your eyes linger anxiously on the subtle bruising over his cheekbone.
He wraps an arm around your waist and presses his face to your hair for a second. Too soon, he pulls away and goes back to packing his bags. You stay there for a moment longer.
This is what love looks like, you think. But you don't tell him that, either.
If there's one thing about this life you weren't prepared for, it's the loneliness.
Growing up, you were surrounded by people: your mom, your uncles, your friends. On the road, life is full of strangers, empty locker rooms and hostile crowds. It's only natural you'd cling to him.
On the nights you can afford a hotel room, you share a bed. He's nothing if not practical, and truthfully, you don't mind. You lie there in a tangle of limbs and the feeling of being close to someone lulls you to sleep.
You wake up with your arm across his waist. It happens sometimes; you usually just turn over and go back to sleep. This morning, you pull him in closer, feel the warmth of his body against yours, inhale the scent of his hair.
If he's awake, he doesn't say anything. But then, he never does. You're pathetically grateful he doesn't question your sudden need to manhandle him, because you don't think you could bear to explain it.
He stirs against you and his arm settles over yours, your hands clasping. You mumble his name, because now you know he's awake and you can't bring yourself to be the one that pulls away.
Sleep, he says softly, and you do. He's solid and real in your arms and you need him more than you ever have. This life is lonely, but you have him to fill the empty spaces.
If there's one thing you never expected, it's that your relationship would change. But if it brings you closer, you think, then change can only be good.
In this business, you live on hope.
The hope that one day, you'll make it big. The hope that you'll be able to make a living doing what you love. Hope that has to overwhelm every other concern.
But for you, with that hope comes worry. You've always been one to err on the side of caution, to get lost in the logistics of life, and maybe that's why he holds that contract and not you.
He's the talent and you're the responsible one. You know that's how it works. He takes the risks and you keep him grounded. He gets the jobs; you make sure you're paid.
He looks up at you, then down at the desk, at a loss. He whines your name plaintively, as if he wants you to tell him what to do. You don't answer. You can't make this decision for him.
You wonder what he's going to do without you, because you don't want to think about what you'll do without him.
The thought pains you and you reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in and kiss the top of his head.
It should be no big deal. He touches you all the time and you let it fly under the radar. But somehow, you feel like you've crossed a line. He does it all the time, but you never do.
He looks up at you again and you think he's surprised. You start to pull your hand away, but he covers it with his. He kisses your palm, presses his cheek to your skin for a moment before turning back to the desk.
He signs the papers, but for the first time you know what hope is.
He wouldn't let you come with him and you feel like you've been waiting forever.
Between the two of you, he's the patient one, though you're learning. You're figuring out how to put everything in its place, in its time and you're better for it.
You're better for knowing him and you don't know why no one else sees it. Those long years struggling to make ends meet, he's the one who kept you going. He's the one who inspires you.
You hear a sound at the door and you stand. Finally, you think, he's back. You brace yourself and you're not quite sure why you're this nervous. It's just a haircut.
It's just a haircut, but it's almost all gone. Or so you think when you get your first good look at him. It's short and it sticks up in the middle and it's not even blond anymore.
He stands before you and looks at you without saying anything, quietly begging for your approval. You reach for him, thread your fingers through the hair you used to know so well. It's stiffened with some kind of product, but he doesn't complain about you ruining it.
You murmur his name and he looks up at you, still the same man he always was, yet so different. You kiss him once, slowly, then again to punctuate. You hold him close, because you missed him even though you weren't really waiting long.
You catch your reflection in one of the ever present hotel mirrors. You're struck by how different you both look from when you started out, but you find you like this picture better. The hair might take some getting used to, but you've never loved him more than you do right now.