Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera.
I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.
Thanks for the reviews, Ashura77, Redsandman99, Inkblots, NeroAnne, and Dehlia666. You guys make it worth it.
Well, here's part three.
Matt shook his head as Chris stopped in the parking lot of a fancy French place. "You have to be joking," he said, "What the hell, Chris?"
"I want to take you out to dinner," Chris shrugged, "You've got a problem with that?"
"Besides the fact that this place probably costs two whole paychecks?" Matt asked. They were immediately seated and Chris laughed as he put his napkin in his lap.
"It's sweet that you're worried about my money. But please, don't bother with it. Besides... you belong to me, and I like this place." Chris smiled and gestured at the seat. "Well? Take a seat."
Matt did so and snatched up the menu. If Chris wanted him not to worry about money, he'd order the most expensive thing on it. As soon as he opened it, though, he knew that wouldn't be the case. Not only were there no prices on this menu, but the entire menu was in French. How was he supposed to know what the hell he was ordering?
Matt looked up and saw that Chris was amused by his discomfort. "Fuck off, Chris," Matt said.
"Don't worry, beautiful. I'm ordering for you. You're not allergic to anything I should worry about, right?" When Matt didn't answer, Chris said, "Fine. Sulk. Don't complain if you get sick; I did ask."
Matt grumbled and refused to look at Chris as the waiter came. He spoke in quick French and Matt wondered how this would work, but then Chris answered in his own pretty, fluent French. Matt was shocked; he didn't know Chris could speak French. When he left, CHris turned back to Matt.
"Surprised?" he asked.
"Yeah," Matt answered honestly.
"I bet you thought I was just a meathead," Chris joked. Suddenly, Matt started laughing. Hard. He was calling attention to the table, and Chris wanted to know what about his lame little joke was so funny.
"What?" He asked.
"Oh, nothing, Billy Cobb. I just thought you were going to whip out a stupid pair of fake glasses and talk about your Master's Degree."
Chris blushed and smiled softly. That joke made his day completely. "You saw the Aaron Stone episode I was in?"
"I wanted to see if you could last a whole half an hour without saying hypocrite," Matt explained, "I lost ten bucks because of you, bum."
"Who'd you bet with?"
"Punk," Matt said, "But it was worth it. Seeing you say wrestlers have feeling too... and your uber lame acting..."
Chris leaned forward. "Doesn't matter. You saw a children's show just because I was in it."
"You have a real selective memory," Matt said.
"Hey, let me live in my delusions. I saw an episode of Fear Factor just for you, Jimmy Legs."
"Shut up," Matt said, unable to hold back a giggle, "I did that ages ago. Are you kidding me?"
"You drank that disgusting concoction like it was a chocolate shake," Chris said.
"It was for charity!" Matt defended himself, "I drank it for the less fortunate."
"You looked like you wanted seconds," Chris laughed. Matt was such a fun person to be around; after a while, he let down his guard and was the Matt Chris remembered, the Matt who Chris called friend. But, if Chris had his way, he'd soon be calling him husband...
The food came, and Matt stared at it, confused. What the hell was it? Was it really food? The only thing he recognized was the bread. He took a bite of the bread, but then looked up and saw Chris smirking at him smugly. Matt's eyes went to the thing he thought might be meat, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eye: this could be fun. Matt put some of it into his spoon and flicked it at Chris, hitting him square inbetween the eyes.
Chris gasped, and Matt laughed, the meat sticking to his face and looking like a deformed horn. Chris' eyes narrowed; if Matt wanted war, then war it was. Chris put some meat into his own spoon and flung it at Matt, hitting his temple. They ended up in an epic food fight, hitting each other's hair, ears, neck, and face. As Matt grabbed his loaf of bread, the waiter came back to the table and spoke angrily.
"You don't need to speak French to know what that meant," Matt said, standing up. Chris, still unable to stop laughing, quickly paid the bill and they both left, cleaning their faces with the napkins.
"You have a water bottle?" Matt asked through his giggles, "The crap's in my hair."
Chris nodded and Matt laughed harder- Chris laughed so hard that he cried. As Chris looked for the water bottle in his car, Matt licked his top lip. "Hey, this was actually good!"
*
Chris didn't expect for dinner to end so soon, so he took Matt out to a club. Matt wanted to put on a hat, because the water made his hair frizzy, but Chris ordered him not to. He thought it was cute. How could Matt ever think he was anything less? Chris didn't think of his love for Matt as a bias; in fact, if someone said Matt was right, and it looked weird, Chris would argue until he was blue that Matt's irrepressible cuteness was a fact.
Chris grabbed Matt's hand and pulled him to the dance floor. "You have to dance with me, Mattie!" he squealed, hearing one of his own songs play. It always gave him a fuzzy feeling, hearing a Fozzy song play at a club. And he had a soft spot for L.O.V.E. Machine.
Matt got into the song quickly and was in his own little orbit, not paying attention to any other dancer. Chris danced too but was mostly watching how he made Matt lose control of himself; even if it was just his singing.
Then, Matt listened to the words, and not the beat, and he gasped. "This is you!" Chris nodded. "Wow, and here I thought your band would've been God awful."
Chris grabbed Matt and pulled him over. "What was that, assclown?"
"You heard me," Matt said, "God, learn to take a compliment."
Chris laughed. "You're a firecracker, you know that, beautiful?"
"This is the first time I've been told that." Matt turned away and thought about how things were with Chris before the whole incident. They were pretty good friends. And this day was doing nothing but telling him how much he missed palling around with Chris. Wasn't he supposed to hate Chris for pulling him into this crap? But he couldn't hate Chris; although Chris was a pushy, manipulative bastard, he was also fun and hilarious. As much as Matt didn't want to admit it, he had fun with Jericho.
Plus, he didn't do anything too forward. He hardly even touched Matt. This wasn't how Matt suspected the night to go at all. But maybe Chris was just waiting to make that final order, the order Matt knew was coming, to touch Matt all he wanted. Well, if he thought he was going to take advantage of him like that, Matt would show him otherwise.
*
They finally got back to the hotel after midnight. Chris told Matt to wait while he went to get a room. He went to the front desk and said, "A double, please."
The man looked through the database. Chris looked over at Matt and saw him looking at the magazines and smiled. He had a great time. Shoot, why'd he had to tell Matt he loved him? They could've had more days like this, even if it was with the whole posse.
"Sorry sir," The man said. Chris snapped back to him as he said, "There are no more doubles. I have a single with a king size; is that fine?"
Chris imagined Matt, half naked, laying on a king size and looking at him lustily. He shook the thought out of his head, knowing that this night had to be perfect or he'd just push Matt further away, and said, "That'll do." Chris paid for the room and took the keys. He walked over and peeked over Matt's shoulder; it was an article about tabacco farmers.
"Feeling nostalgic?" Chris whispered in his ear. Matt jumped in surprise, and then he angrily hit Chris with the magazine.
"Asshole," he muttered.
Chris laughed and said, "Time to go." Matt stood up and followed Chris to the elevator. As the door opened, Matt saw John Hennigan and Mike Mizanin coming out of the hotel bar. Panicking, Matt shoved Chris into the elevator, pushing the Canadian as far out of view as possible as he pressed their floor and the close button quickly.
The close position was too much for Chris, so he decided to joke to ease the tension. "Excited, Hardy?"
Matt moved away angrily as the elevator moved. "You wish, Irvine. This little night is not getting back to Adam."
Chris' eyes widened; that perked his interest. "You didn't tell Adam about our little wager? Chris asked, "I thought you lurved him. Don't lurvers share everything?"
Matt crossed his arms. "Adam and I tell each other everything."
"Then why not this?" Chris poked further. And why didn't he tell you that he threatened me, or that he let me fuck you to mess with my mind? Chris held back those words; he couldn't shove Adam's cruelty down Matt's throat. Matt would think he was lying. No, Matt would have to see it for himself. And, when Matt didn't answer, Chris mentally gave himself a point. Questioning the relationship already, Matt?
The elevator finally got to their floor, and Chris brought Matt to their room. And Matt's eyes narrowed when he saw the one big bed. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. Chris just pushed him inside and shut the door.
"You wouldn't want someone to see us and report us back to Addy, would you?" Chris joked. Matt sighed; he hated it when Chris was right. "Get comfortable. I'll be in the bathroom, doing the same."
Matt waited until Chris was in the bathroom to strip to his boxers. He looked through his bag until he found the shirt he took to using for pajamas; Adam's new Edge shirt. As soon as Chris came out, only in a pair of green boxers, he scowled at the shirt and said, "You're not wearing that. Change."
"No," Matt said, "This is my sleep shirt."
"Yeah well, you're mine tonight, not Adam's. You can wear his collar any other day but today. Change." Matt sighed and looked through the bag. Chris wanted him to change so he wouldn't be branded as Adam's? Fine, he could play back. He pulled out a ratty CM Punk shirt Punk left in his room one time and put that on instead.
"Better?" Matt asked.
Chris held back a giggle; Matt was stubborn, but hey, he liked that about him. Heck, he liked everything about Matt. He nodded and said, "The bed's yours. Night." Chris grabbed one of the pillows and a sheet and put it on the small couch.
Matt blinked; that was unexpected. He was sure Chris would order him to sleep with him. "Wait. You're sleeping... on the couch? As in, not with me?"
"You want me to sleep with you?" Chris asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"No... I just thought..." Matt stammered, and Chris went over to him, amused. He grabbed Matt's hand and brought it up to his lips.
"The day I finally have you again, beautiful, you're going to ask for me. It won't be forced."
Matt pulled his hand away, thinking about Adam. "It won't happen," Matt said, "Don't hold your damned breath."
Matt went to the bed, and Chris saw how Matt moved around, trying to get comfortable. "Your back still hurt?" he asked.
"No," Matt said, a little too quickly. But now that he wasn't distracted, he knew that fall was ready to bite him in the ass.
Chris walked over to him and said, "Turn over." He felt an argument coming from Matt, so he said, "Yes, you can keep your clothes on, and Yes, you have to turn over. I ordered you to. Now."
Matt did as he was told, grumbling about bossy Canadians, but that turned into a gasp as Chris straddled him and began massaging his back. Matt struggled a litle, but Chris bent over to his ear and said, "Relax. Relax, or this won't help anything. Let me fix you right up."
Chris began working on his back, handling the knot Matt didn't allow him to get in the shower. Sometimes, Matt shouted out in pain, cursed Chris out- but, for the most part, Matt just allowed Chris to work his magic on his back.
"Better?" Chris asked. Matt nodded and then Chris hopped off of him. Matt turned around and was caught off guard when he felt Chris' lips on his forehead. "Goodnight, love." Chris shot one last look at Matt before shutting off the light and going to bed.
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