Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything! Additionally - I write Edge, Christian, and co. under the mentality that they are characters. Aside from certain aspects that relate to their careers, I don't intend to draw any personal similarities to the lovely real-life people that portray the characters. I also apologize in advance for any weird and terrible things I may put the characters through :)
A/N: So this story has a story to it. To be short and sweet: I was twelve at one point. Used to be rather obsessed with Edge and Christian. Wrote many stories. Recently (see - 1-2 years ago), I decided to revive one of these story concepts as a sort of personal improvement challenge. Needless to say - I've improved. But now I've run hog wild and since I went 10 chapters deep before a hiatus, it'd be a shame not to show off my self-indulgent nonsense, right?
This'll be a slow burn, folks. The darker themes will emerge, but let's get to know these boys a little first, eh?
Blood Brothers
Chapter 1: You Get What You Give
~EDGE~
This was all Edge needed to be reminded of what he's been working for. The clamoring that resounded all around him; thousands of spectators filling the stadium, beholding the show put before them; the flashing of cameras never ceasing to capture a moment made under the spotlights of the squared circle. Throughout the match his audience held on like they were on a thrill ride. Their voices surged up and down with his every frenetic move. Suspended in the desperate back-and-forths. Protesting at his opponent's counters, and cheering when he regained the upper hand.
Their excitement echoed into his hammering heart, pumping into it an adrenaline that dictated him with brutal instinct – so efficient he was, his movements were blurring together in his mind until his next memory was him rising to his feet, the ringing bell carried into a collective cry of victory. A belt of worn leather and glistening gold was thrust into his hands.
Edge held it high. He faced the blinding lights with a broad smile. Sucked in the grease-tinged fall breeze… and devoured the reaction of his enthralled fans.
"Hey! Hey, bro?… woow. You really did it, didn't you?"
How such a vivid scene could melt away so suddenly at the chill that washed across Edge's face, to the point he barely remembered it as soon as he opened his eyes… he struggled to recall it now, yet knew enough that it left an amazing feeling that shriveled and died when he returned to reality.
Edge's first conscious thought was that a bug was looming over him, blocking his view. A bug who's eyes were actually obnoxiously large, round red sunglasses on a face framed by long blonde hair and twisted with a lopsided smirk into a look of grand satisfaction.
This was, in fact, Edge's little brother. Christian was his name. And the pest comparison was completely accurate, as Edge soon noticed the cup of soda in one hand, tilted at Edge's head, just as the older brother was reaching up to wipe away the wetness over his face. The rude awakening clicked into place. Edge was livid.
"- Grraaaggh! - you little – puke! -"
The man lurched like an angry, disoriented wolf – a groggy action that lent no purchase, as Christian smoothly hopped backwards. Before Edge could catch himself, he tumbled off the bench, sprawling face-first onto the frosty ground. Christian's sneakers retreated further before his brother could chance tripping him up.
"… urg… you… you freakin' blow, Christian." Edge said with a groan.
Christian only laughed. "Say that about yourself, dork. Who actually falls asleep, sober as a judge, at a fair? I'm away for five minutes and you become totally lame."
"What's lame is that you woke me up from the best dream I've had in months!" Edge was prepared to retaliate when he stood; however, Christian held out a paper basket filled to the brim with freshly prepared poutine, and this was the mighty shield that stayed the hard smack about to be delivered. Deep-fried, cheesy, gravy-topped goodness wafted under his nose…
Huh… thought I'd smelled grease…
"Oh? Which one this time? Jennifer Anniston, or Pamela Anderson?" Asked Christian. The shorter blonde's smirk never left.
"Neither." Edge took the basket. His brain chewed on thoughts while he chewed some fries, scavenging what he could remember in order to describe it. "… Nah, I was having a match under the big brand… can't remember if it was WWF or WCW or what, but it was way bigger than any audience we've ever had… and bro, they were going freakin' nuts! Whoever I was working with, man, we were making an instant classic! And I won. I won it – won the world championship, I'm pretty sure!…"
His voice trailed off. The smile that'd been growing since he started explaining, faltered. He noted Christian was no longer smirking. As though they shared the same thought, the brothers were soon both taking a gander around them.
It was easy to see how Edge's mind could fabricate that scene when he fell asleep. This small town fair was abuzz with activity. Chatter and music mingled, filling the cool evening air. People howled and laughed at the mercy of the rides, with the star attraction being the rickety wooden rollercoaster Edge had just so happened to take a nap nearest to. Wavering screams mimicked the reactionary crowd of his dream.
Myriad of lights illuminated the grounds, from game stands to food concessions to tents, some colorful, some flashing. He had imagined these as the spotlights upon him, the cameras capturing him in action.
Couldn't say he wasn't creative, at least. He'd gotten inspired by his surroundings enough for his subconscience to flesh out a dream of being a legendary professional wrestler.
A dream he hoped, one day, to make a reality.
Despite his current reality seeming too much of a far cry to entertain the notion as a near possibility.
"… Well, that is the dream, isn't it, bro?" There was a subtle edge to Christian's tone. The older brother wondered if that was another cynical thought shared between them. They had a habit of thinking in sync.
"… Yyyep-ahh…"
Both young men had mixed thoughts about that, mulling them over as they resumed their strolling along the grounds, this time with sodas to drink and food to share between them, which at least gave Edge more energy than he had earlier.
They couldn't afford to splurge too much on tickets or cheesy merchandise. Had to be mindful on if their gas-guzzling car had enough fuel to make the trip to the next town over yonder tomorrow. And if they had enough to afford a cheap motel room. Preferably one that didn't have a family of rats living in a hole behind the bed. They'd choose wisely on what caught their eye the most - but would otherwise wait for the other two to get here.
Still – even just sinking into the atmosphere of the fair was a welcome change of pace. If only Edge could stop imagine the spotlights and cameras at every stand they passed.
It was at some cheap accessory tent when Edge broke the ice and continued their previous discussion.
"So, Christian – you think we'd be able to, soon?"
Christian glanced up. His bug-eyed glasses were propped at his hairline while he tried a more ridiculous pair. If that was even possible. Edge had to swallow down a snarky retort. "Huh? Be able to what soon?"
"You know, like, get in? Make it big?"
"Well, yeah! Duh. I think we could," Said Christian. "We have the work ethic, don't we?"
Edge interjected, "- And our in-ring skill's only been getting better."
"And our first promo was pretty awesome for our first promo, I think…"
"And our crowds always love us! You hear the props we get. We steal the show!" Edge smiled to himself. He paused. "With any luck, they've been scouting our circuit recently. If they did with Rhyno's…"
Edge saw Christian grinning through the small vanity mirror among the glasses and hats; whether that was at the mention of their friend or because he had just put on fuzzy – fuzzy! - sunglasses was anyone's guess.
"Hey! Speaking of Rhyno – when he gets here me and him are planning on getting banned from the teacups. You want in?"
"I – wait what?" Caught off guard, Edge was both confused and wildly curious. "How do you get kicked off teacups? How can you possibly fuck that up."
"Dude, it's totally simple. Or you can just watch and learn. Either or," Said Christian.
"Aaand that's what we'll spend our money for tickets on. Teacups. For the sole purpose of causing hate and discontent."
Christian gave a vigorous nod to Edge's reflection. "You got it! And whatever else Rhyno wants to do. Remember – this is his night."
"I know that, bro."
It may have been hard to take his little brother seriously when fuzzy sunglasses were staring back at him, but the fact Christian made a point to turn, straighten up, and cross his arms meant he was trying to be frank. "Then stop talking about us so much, eh? Let's… forget about it for a night. We'll have all the time in the world to bitch and moan once Rhyno leaves for Philadelphia."
One thing that irked Edge as much as Christian's childish pranks was when he attempted to act like the wise older sibling. It peeved him more when he made a legitimate point. Yet nothing of what he said wasn't anything Edge didn't already know. Feeling most parts annoyed and some parts guilty, his sharp scowl contrasted his tone as he decided to stalk along the necklace section. "Yeah, hey – I already plan on bombing our favorite manbeast with all the brotherly love he can handle! So get off my ass about that. But, y'know. Now that he's going onto ECW… and freakin' Jericho's already been making a name for himself in WCW… can't help but wonder when our big break will come along. I'm happy for them! But I just wanna…"
A sigh.
"… You know what I mean."
Edge wasn't expecting a hand clapping upon his shoulder, but also didn't protest when he was pulled into a side hug. He reciprocated.
"I get it, Edge," Christian reassured. "Really. I feel the same way, you know that… look – screw what our promoter said! We work our asses off and it shows – and tomorrow we'll get up and prove it again. Maybe it won't be soon, but with Rhyno and Chris called up… it'll happen for us at some point. It's inevitable."
… Did Edge have to admit defeat? He supposed it wouldn't hurt. For just this once.
"You know, I hate when you decide to put that one brain cell of yours' to use. Because sometimes, you manage to actually sound sensible."
"Still a half a cell more than you've got, dweebsicle."
This eased a laugh out of Edge. "Now that doesn't make sense!" He released his hug only to wind his arm up and vice Christian in a headlock. Ignoring the younger blonde's yelp he gave his brother an affectionately rough noogie. "Dorkchop."
"Prime-cut dorkchop!"
"Ooh. You cut deep."
Now both of them were laughing, though this moment was short-lived. The niggling sense of eyes boring into Edge's head made him conscious of how much of a 'dorkchop' both were appearing to be. He released Christian. Naturally, the taller man's eyes went to the vendor. But she was dealing with another customer. And they weren't watching, either.
So Edge just shrugged.
Turning back to Christian, they both shared a significant look and in that reached an unspoken agreement. The brothers nodded.
"Some day, then." Edge spoke, voice firm. A promise.
"Some day."
That was what mattered. Not the prospect of them rising from small indie notoriety to worldwide acclaim coming tomorrow or next week or even months. It was the promise they would break out and become legends no matter the wait.
"But for now – I know we're kinda strapped, but I need these sunglasses."
"… But will you die without them in your life?"
"I dunno, man," A cheeky grin. "It was love at first sight, me and these furry shades. Might just drop dead of a broken heart in a year's time!"
"Aww, baby brother's got a girlfrieend! Shame it's only the inanimate object that wants to sit on your -"
"Edge!" The older brother grunted at the ensuing punch to the arm, yet it didn't stop him from chortling.
"Okay, fine, alright, add them to your stupid crayon box collection. And y'know what? I like the look of this… 'genuine' puka shell necklace… heh, will probably breath on it wrong and it'll break…"
"Ay heyyy! The Cage brothers, conjoined to the hip as usual! Long time no see, guys! I see you're still taking after gram-grams with the weird-ass shades, Christian. And your forehead's as humongous as ever, Edge!"
From the moment that gleefully snide voice arose and that glorious volcano of top-knotted blonde locks bobbed above the car door, Edge was pitted in an immediate struggle with himself to keep his smile on and attitude squashed. While he'd be the first to admit he had a short fuse, it took a special few to strike his nerve with alarming ease. The first person was Christian. Like his example earlier in the evening, Christian could be an annoying insect, yet somehow worse; because unlike annoying insects Christian was buzzing around him year-round instead of giving him the mercy of disappearing seasonally. But Christian was also his baby brother. Edge loved his baby brother.
Chris Jericho was the second person. Chris Jericho had no such privileges as Christian. He was a cocky, mocking asshat for seemingly no reason than to push Edge's buttons and watch him twitch. The worst part was that Jericho needn't even try to, really. There was just something about Jericho's aura, the way he carried himself, how he sassed with such casual joy that could drive Edge up the wall. Which only made the remarks more irritating.
So… case in point.
Edge tried to work up a clever retort, but impulse failed him. He crossed his arms, corner of his lips pulled to a scowl. "Haven't penned down any better material since the last time, Jericho? Gotta insult an old woman now? That's a new low."
An elbow to his ribs caused Edge to grunt.
"You're just jealous you can't compete with Grandma Edna's raw good looks and impeccable taste even at age seventy-five!" Unfettered, Christian jabbed back. Nice! Edge chuckled at that. Then thought to add,
"We can't help it runs in the family!"
"Chris Jericho? Jealous? In your dreams, junior. I have a style all my own that I'm rockin' just fine!" Despite his mocking, Jericho pulled the brothers into a brief but firm hug as soon as he stepped out of the car. Edge patted him on the back. Then he passed them, trouncing onward towards the fairgrounds as if he owned it.
The older Cage scoffed. Was he expecting them to follow? Tch!
And yet Edge spun on his heel. Stalked after his fellow blonde.
"You call standing out like a turd in a swimming pool a style?"
"I personally like calling it 'commanding an audience'. Which I plan to do tonight. What time was karaoke again, you said?"
Christian's voice rose through the conversation in bemused uproar. Judging by the rise of his tone, he had stood rooted in place in the lot while Edge and Chris walked on. "Uh, hey?! What about Rhyno, Chris?!"
"Give him a minute, he'll come out!" Shouted Chris, "He got pretty sauced with his circuit pals before I picked him up!"
Edge glanced over his shoulder in time to see Christian throw his hands up, mouthing an exasperated 'Okay!' before nearing Chris' rental car, waiting on their friend. Edge's scowl creased deeper. Then he barked out a condescending laugh.
"Dude, you've still been planning karaoke? I've told you, that crap's either for sober people who can sing or drunk people who can't. Unless you also plan on getting trashed…" Of course, when Jericho, Rhyno, and the Cage brothers had set up this little get-together, they tossed around ideas of what exactly they'd be interested in. Chris had expressed personal excitement in what was, to its core, singing in front of a bunch of tired dads and doped up teens in the later hours of the night. At least that's what Edge saw it as. It did not strike him as an activity that was very cool or exciting.
"And what makes you think I'd be part of the latter?" Jericho shot him a very Christian-esque smirk. Edge clenched his fingers, gripping the sides of his jacket. He kept his chin high however.
"Because I've heard you sing before? You sound like a constipated goat." He said.
"Do I?" Smirk turned into a mock pout – fake puppy eyes included. "Oh! That wounds me! I never realized!… never realized how much I overestimated your taste in music! Being the diehard fan of Metallica and Black Sabbath as you are, I would've thought you'd known greatness when you heard it."
"Heard it? All I heard is a thrift store version of Ozzy Osbourne. Honestly, I think you'd get more attention going to the balloon stand and hanging out with the rest of the inflated egos."
A shocked laugh burst out of Jericho. In another fit of theatrics, he stumbled back, hand to his heart, as though actually wounded by Edge's words. Whether because it was a clever or a bad rib, it was not quite the reaction Edge vied for. After it went on for too long Jericho wheezed out, "Woww, man. Who shit in your cheerios today? You've been full of passive-aggressive jokes ever since I stepped outta the car!"
"And you've been pulling potshots since you opened your mouth!" Edge exclaimed.
Chris raised his hands in defense. "And that's all they were! Little ribs. Lighten up a bit, will ya?"
Edge then heard his brother behind them – this time with another set of feet plodding along. "Get a room you two. I can feel the macho tension from the parking lot."
"Two minutesh, and ya'llready wanna kill each other…"
Finally! A good opportunity to forget the conversation. With his scowl flipping like a switch Edge faced a much less irritating presence.
A friend to the brothers since childhood, Rhyno followed them in pursuit of their shared dream for nearly as long; while a personal decision to take a stint under a different circuit has kept them distanced as of recent times, no love has been lost, as the three huddled together for a bro hug that felt as familiar as though they'd done it yesterday. Edge took a once-over as they pulled apart. The brothers' nickname for him was indeed still apt - Rhyno was built like a brick shithouse. And it appeared such muscles had only gained more muscles since they'd last seen him.
"Nice to see ya, buddy! You're lookin' good - and feeling good too, I'm sure!... ECW, huh? Congrats!" Edge said.
Then came Jericho, with a smarmy grin, "They do some crazy shit there. Trust me! I know."
"And you lasted like, what, a week, big shot?" Remarked Christian.
Rhyno appeared overwhelmed by the attention, already flushed face reddening further. "Ohh, I'm ready ash ever! Gonna be a good, uh, chance... but getting a shot and keepin in is two things, yyeah?"
"Of course it is. But we know you, Rhyno. We're sure you're gonna go far." Christian spoke the words before Edge could. Though that didn't surprise him. His younger brother was always closest to Rhyno, almost instinctive in jumping to his side just as Rhyno would do with Christian. They'd long been friends before Edge entered the picture, after all. "But until then - the fair is your oyster! Are you ready to break the teacups?"
"... With all the spinning, ya may have to hold me up while I puke in a bushh after..."
Edge groaned, "Again with the teacups..."
"Well, since I doubt you two wanna join - what were you guys thinking? Gonna bicker about the temperature next?"
"Jericho's still set on public embarrassment. Until then? Hmm... there's a little rec center at one end... with the pool table... and an arcade..."
Edge shot Jericho a taunting grin. Yet Jericho stood tall, mirroring it.
"That a bet?"
"I still have to get you back, don't I?"
"Try not to destroy the machine this time, bro!... Seriously. Please."
"Hey, I've gotten better with that, haven't I?"
Jericho laughed. "We'll see about that once I hand your ass to you!..."
With the chatter continuing and the whole night ahead of him, his brother, and friends, the older Cage had all but forgotten the dream he'd been fawning over. That was alright. He could afford to have some mindless fun before the grind resumed tomorrow. That odd, observed feeling from earlier returned for a flicker; Edge ignored it. Surely some people must've found four twenty-somethings traipsing through a funfair to be a little strange.
But oh well.
If this was what it took to destress even a little... he'd take it.
A/N: I've been a little indecisive about posting this as it is; there's a whole nother half to this chapter, but since it was becoming so long I felt I had to slice it in half. See what happens when you go with the flow? Hah. Well, hopefully there's enough substance in the banter and interactions to make up for the missing drama and that oh-so crucial character that's saved for the next chapter...
Of course, lemme know if you think that's the case, along with any other lovely comments or insults you may have for me. Until next time!...
