There's a kinship in wrestling, sometimes. Even with people you don't interact with that often. So something sticks with Hook, after sitting backstage and witnessing how Worlds' End finished the night off. It eats at him through New Years, leaves him lost in thought for most of the day. Which is fine, he's not a big talker anyway and no one really seems to notice or care. He wouldn't either, really, except that it means his thoughts keep going in circles and, more importantly, keeps him from sleeping.

He's sitting up, staring blankly at his phone, when he hears shuffling from the doorway and looks up to find Orange squinting at him, a sleepy frown on his face. Hook blinks at him before turning his gaze back onto his phone.

"Hey," Orange says after a minute. "Can't sleep?"

Hook breathes out slow, then shakes his head. "Nope."

Orange hesitates, uncertain. "Something wrong?" he finally asks. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

Hook looks back over at him, then shakes his head. "No," he murmurs. "Just thinking about the new year, and stuff. You should go back to bed. I'll be in in a little bit."

Orange hums, still wavering. "Alright," he says, but does venture into the kitchen, scrapes his fingers through Hook's hair, then pushes it back enough to kiss him. "I'll be waiting."

He'll be asleep within minutes, Hook knows, and understands. It's been a long day, and holidays can be oddly tiring. He gives himself another twenty minutes, to the top of the hour, then forces himself to put his phone down, stretch, get a glass of water, and finally, finally join Orange in bed. He doesn't really sleep for awhile, just stares at the ceiling, but eventually Orange presses close to him, drops an arm sluggishly over his waist, and something about that weight, his warmth, stops all of the thoughts vibrating around in his brain, and he drifts off sluggishly.

He's a little more settled by Wednesday, his thoughts a little less crazed as he accompanies Orange out, Danhausen and he returning backstage after Orange's entrance where they sit close to a monitor, eat Cheetos and watch Orange defend his title. They head back out to acknowledge his win and they're still out there when there's a general challenge made to all tag teams by Private Party, but Hook's mind is slowly drifting back to what he'd spent the weekend ruminating on, once more thinking. All of this talk about championships and everything else going on, various wrestlers discussing what they'd like to accomplish in the new year has put him back on that track he'd spent the entire holiday dwelling on.

Yeah, Hook decides it's time to move. His time's running out before the show ends, so he grabs a camera crew, goes for a walk until he finds somewhere that feels fitting for how he's feeling. It's dark, he's pretty sure his hood's hiding most of his face, but it's ok. Suits him, especially as he talks about his win ratio, which has been imprinted into his brain since Sunday morning. Announces it's time he go for more gold, points at the camera, and makes his plans clear. Samoa Joe and his world title is now in Hook's sights, and he's not going to be easily dissauded.

They return to the arena and Hook knocks on Tony Khan's office, hands stuffed in his pockets. The instant Tony calls out to come in, he pushes the door open and waits until it clicks back shut behind him to begin speaking. "Filmed something," he says, watching Tony. "I want an opportunity."

Tony stares at him, wide eyed, a little flustered. "What kind of opportunity?"

"Samoa Joe. I want a world heavyweight title shot. My win record speaks for itself."

Tony's eyes dart around a bit before resting back on Hook's face. "Well, yes, it is impressive," he says slowly. "I'm not going to deny giving chances to people who are hungry for them." But he still seems hesitant. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes," Hook says, waiting. Face tense. If Tony says no, he really doesn't know what he's going to do, what path to take. This isn't something he wants advice on- he'd rather not include Orange or, even worse, his father on this. He wants to prove himself, put a little more weight on his shoulders and not make it seem like he couldn't figure out how to get here on his own.

Tony hums. "Well, alright," he says. "I'll have the production staff look over what was filmed, we'll clean it up and air it on Rampage or Collision. From there, it's up to Samoa Joe what happens with you two. He accepts, I'll grant it. Sound fair?"

It does. "Thanks," Hook says before taking his leave.

Now all he can do is wait.

-x

It's about mid-way through Collision. There hadn't been anything on Rampage, so Hook assumes tonight will be the night. He's halfway through a bag of doritos when the screen shifts, everything's dark, and then... yep. There he is, in his bubble jacket, hoodie shadowing his face, and Orange tenses, a little, looking back and forth between him and the TV. When he lays his challenge out and the screen fades back, silence lingers between them for a few minutes.

"Well," Orange says weakly.

"Hmm," Hook says, not looking over at him. "Took them long enough."

"This is why you were so distracted the last week," Orange says. "You were planning this."

"Kind of yes, kind of no," Hook says. "It clicked on Wednesday what I wanted to do."

Orange stares at him. "You were staring at your win-loss record on your phone when I found you that night."

"I was." Hook buries his hands in his hoodie pocket and twists to look back at Orange. "You think it's a bad idea."

"No," Orange says hesitantly. "Not really, just... it's a big step."

"Yep." Hook's eyes bore into Orange's. "I feel like it's time i do something more to prove myself. Something that my dad wasn't involved in."

"Taz didn't...?" Orange falters, his words failing him. "You, uh..."

"Yeah," Hook says, a grim look on his face. "This was all my idea. And Tony Khan agreed, as long as Joe accepts my challenge."

"Huh," is all Orange can think to say.

Hook shakes his head, lips twisting into a smile that almost looks pained. "You think I don't have a chance, do you?"

"Not saying that," Orange says. "You're strong and stubborn and I'd be an idiot to bet against you, but we've seen what Joe's capable of. He's going to fight dirty."

"So can I," Hook says with a shrug. "And before you say it, no, I'm not underestimating him. I just want a chance, same as everyone else gets."

Orange works his jaw a little bit, still thinking. But he knows there's no way to talk Hook out of it, not at this stage, so he reaches out, nudges Hook's hoodie until he untucks his hands from inside of his pocket and meets Orange halfway, squeezing back when Orange laces their fingers together. "I'll support you in anything you want to do. Just... try to be careful."

It's kind of contradictory coming from Orange of all people, considering everything he put himself through to defend the International title all of those months, but Hook nods. Careful hasn't and won't help him advance in his career any further, but for Orange, he'll try to make his own well-being a priority while he sees his challenge through.

-x

Ultimately Joe accepts. A match is scheduled for Battle of the Belts. Saturday is already only three days away, but Hook feels determined, as ready as he possibly can be. Orange accompanies him to the arena, and he's not greatly surprised to find Danhausen, Trent and Rocky waiting in the locker room when they arrive.

"Good friend Hook!" Danhausen exclaims, rushing over to him as soon as he clears the door. "Is Hook sure about this?"

Hook brushes at his nose, nods. "Yeah. I am," is all he says, moving past Danhausen to put his things down, prepare his gear and wrist tape for later. He can imagine the glances the Best Friends are exchanging right now, but he keeps his eyes down, his focus on what's to come. They can think what they want, say what they want, but he's doing this, with or without their confidence, and nothing's going to deter him.

Still, when he's on his way out of the door, Danhausen blocks his path and Hook bristles, staring at him.

"Danhausen merely wanted to say," he says, hands twisting together anxiously. "He believes in Hook. Wholeheartedly."

Hearing it, and knowing that Danhausen is probably the main person who would say such things and actually mean it, helps some. Hook nods at him, holds a fist out and smirks a little when Danhausen meets him in an awkward fist bump before Hook stretches his hands out to double check how well his wrist tape will hold before heading out.

He's only a step outside of the door when a hand reaches out, grips his forearm. He turns to find Orange standing there, staring at him through his sunglasses, expression blank. He can only imagine what emotions are lurking in his eyes at this moment. "We'll be watching," he says to him. "Anything happens, we'll be out there as quickly as we can. So you just focus on Joe."

"Yep." Hook offers Orange a small smile before heading out.

He's had some long, tense walks through the hallways before, but nothing quite like this. He feels expectant, but also nervous, a heady mixture that leaves him wanting to turn and head back into the shadows with his coat, hide from the roar of the crowd and the belittling gaze of Joe as he walks out to the ring. But he refuses to let himself down, to disappoint his dad, Orange, Danhausen, anyone else who might actually expect something from him during the match to come.

Joe's smug from the start, vicious. As soon as the bell rings, he's alternating between landing as many blows as he can whenever Hook gets a little too close and avoiding his responding blows with the ease that frustrates so many other people while facing him. But Hook is cerebral, takes his time, looks for weaknesses that he can try to exploit. Joe's bigger than most of Hook's former opponents, and he's not sure how he'll be able to lock in Redrum, but he sure as hell is going to try. They've been going at it for a few minutes when Joe rocks Hook with a rough blow. Hook tries to escape, bouncing back against the ropes to use the momentum to lunge straight at Joe, just for Joe to move with the fluidity you wouldn't expect from someone his size, hoisting Hook up and powerslamming him back down with bonerattling force, dazing Hook and leaving his ears ringing as he struggles to blink the stars out of his vision. Joe covers him, Hook can feel it, but it still takes everything just to kick out at 2.

Joe's frustrated, grabs him by the hair and drags him up, ignoring the referee's admonishments, but Hook takes the opportunity, elbows Joe hard and follows it up with a solid strike that frees him just enough for him to put a few steps between them, then rushing forward with another set of strikes. His best opportunity comes after this flurry of offense, landing a rough forearm that actually rocks Joe, leaves him staggered a little, and Hook lunges, actually succeeding at sweeping Joe's feet out from under him, dazing him.

Joe's struggling back to full height when Hook snatches him, trying to lock it in, figuring out how to fit himself around his wide shoulders to get the Redrum to work, and he's close, he can almost taste it, but Joe shakes off the shock of Hook's earlier blows quickly and gets ahold of Hook, twisting him forward in such a rush that Hook can barely register when he's now standing in front of Joe, who immediately locks in the Coquina Clutch. Hook struggles but Joe has the control- drops back hard and puts even more pressure on Hook's neck and throat, slowly causing his vision to spot out once again.

This time, there's no fighting back from the brink. Little by little, everything goes dark.

-x

He had been watching Saturday night, could imagine it from Max's point of view. Lights go out, lights come back on, your entire world's shattered around your feet in shards, forcing you to pick things up and try to shuffle on. He's been there, not all that long ago. Was one of the reasons he'd looked at the new year, new opportunities, and thought, this is mine. And it was, for a little while- he'd had a chance, he thinks, but Joe was better, faster, stronger, more experienced, whatever reason you want to give it, and now he's coming to to the realization he'd failed. He'd lost, and there's a weight on his shoulders, pressed against his back, and he remembers the look on Max's face that night.

Thinks that this is it- he'll open his eyes and his world will slowly crumble and he won't be able to stop it, he'll be in the same position Max was, and it was enough to make Max step away, go elsewhere to recover physically and mentally, and-

There's a soft touch over his face, brushing his hair away, and he gasps out a strained breath, eyes shooting open to find Danhausen kneeling in front of him, concern flashing through his eyes as he stares at Hook. "Hook is awake," he declares solemnly, and Hook blinks back at him.

There's a pressure against his back and Hook winces, slowly looking over his shoulder to find Orange is what's propping him up, some of the tension leaving his face once their eyes meet. "So he is," Orange says, squeezing Hook around the middle. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

He realizes as he gingerly scoots over to the ropes, to slide out of the ring, that Trent and Rocky are nearby, probably accompanying the other two to keep Joe at bay after the match if necessary. They nod at him but keep a few steps back as Orange guides Hook up the ramp, Danhausen hovering around just in case he's needed.

He doesn't talk much as they make their way to medical, nor as medical determines he's fine, just a little sore, and makes him promise to call if anything changes or he starts showing standard concussion symptoms or anything else concerning. They return to the locker room, Orange collecting their things after he's changed into a hoodie and sweatpants.

"Gonna go get some sleep," Orange tells the others, free hand pressed between Hook's shoulderblades as they turn towards the door. "We'll see you later."

"Danhausen will talk to Hook soon," Danhausen says, lightly patting Hook's shoulder. "Hook did quite well, Danhausen is proud of him."

Hook isn't sure how to respond to that, eventually just leaves it at a quiet nod before Orange pulls the door open and they head down the hall. It's quiet, a little awkward, and remains so on the drive back to the hotel.

Orange lets Hook have first turn in the bathroom, then disappears in there himself once he's sure Hook's settled in bed and won't be going anywhere for awhile. Hook lays there and listens to the shower running, exhaling heavily as he remembers more and more the things he could've done in the match, should've done to keep Joe unable to get the upperhand, unable to get the Coquina locked in so damn easily. "Dammit," he hisses, disgusted. He rolls over, tucks himself against the pillows and tries not to shake too hard.

He's still caught in this unending maelstrom of self-loathing and criticism when the bed dips and hands begin carding through his hair, gentle and slow. "Hey," Orange murmurs, trying to nudge him over so he can look at him. "Hook."

Hook ignores him, tries to roll over the other way, but he's barely gotten himself untwisted enough to turn when Orange grips his shoulder and stops him, a steady, determined look on his face. Hook barely catches a glimpse of it and knows he's not going anywhere, falling back against the pillow to just lay there, trapped under Orange's touch.

"I know this isn't our strong suit," Orange says, resuming the lazy, steady motion of his fingers through Hook's hiar. "But I think you should talk to me."

"About?" he mumbles, eyes locked on the ceiling above.

"Why you chose to challenge Joe," Orange says. "Why you seemed so terrified in the ring when you came to."

"I wasn't-" Hook starts to argue but stops himself short when he sees the look on Orange's face.

"Hook," Orange murmurs. "I was holding you up. I know what you look like when you're having nightmares. This was... uncomfortably close to that." He lets that linger for a minute before looking Hook in the eye. "Please?"

Hook grits his teeth, tries to struggle against it, but the moment comes. He gives in. "Fine," he sighs. "Fine. I'll tell you."

"Thank you," Orange says after a moment, shifting to lay down next to Hook. Ease his nerves perhaps by putting them on a more even playing field. "Whenever you're ready."

Hook closes his eyes, exhales hard. "Wembley," he says slowly. "I, uh. You know, wrestled Jack. And ended it between us once and for all."

Orange nods. Of course he knows. It had led them here, after all.

"But at the same time, Max and Adam were... doing their thing." He sounds awkward. He feels awkward. It's not a good memory, that show, not for him.

"MJF and Cole?" Orange asks, more than a little confused at this twist in what Hook's explaining, what it has to do with anything.

"Yeah," Hook mumbles. "You know, Max and I are... more alike than most would probably realize. Pretty much kept ourselves isolated from people. Me because it's just... easier. Or was, anyway. And him, I guess he thought it was self-preservation. And considering, maybe it was." Hook shifts a little, fumbles his fingers together in anxious spirals. "But he changed. I could tell after that time he dragged me into that photo shoot a few weeks back with all of the younger talent in AEW. Hell, I didn't even think he knew I existed most times, and then there I was standing at the world champion's back." He smiles a little, rubs at his nose before his expression drops, grows more severe. "But after Wembley... afterwards, I could see it, especially the last few weeks. Maybe I should've said something to him, pointed out that there was definitely something not adding up with this whole... Devil thing. I guess I got more watchful and careful about these kinds of things after Jack, and could see the signs. They were so obvious, I don't know how he didn't realize."

"About Adam?" Orange clarifies, and when Hook nods, Orange hums. "I feel like he did have his suspicions," he says after a moment. "After the lights came back on at Worlds' End? He said something to Adam about how he wished it wasn't him. So on some level, he at least suspected but didn't want to believe it. Besides," Orange says. "If you had said anything, do you think he would've believed you or continued having faith in Adam?"

"I don't know," Hook says quietly. "Probably not. If someone had tried to warn me about Jack, I wouldn't have..."

"Yeah," Orange responds after a thoughtful pause. "So you challenged Joe."

Hook nods. "Yeah. I did." He turns towards Orange and frowns, still toying with his hoodie strings. "All of this talk about Max finally getting karma from all the shit he's done during his time in AEW. I guess it made me think, because... I've done things too."

"Like what?"

"Ricky," Hook says immediately. "The way I won the FTW title from him. And Danhausen. There was a lot back then I look back on, and..." He grimaces.

"Danhausen was never really mad at you over it though," Orange says. "He understood."

"More than I deserved," Hook says quietly. "Hell, I think if all of this was Max's karma, mine was what happened with Jack. But I... I did want to prove to myself that I could do it, that I could step up to Joe, hold my own against the world champion. I also wanted to prove that... that Joe was wrong, that he wouldn't be able to take everything away from people. That I could compete against him and it wouldn't cost me everything like it did Max. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Orange says, fingers still trailing soothingly through Hook's hair. "I know things have been kind of strained at points with Best Friends lately, but there's nothing for you to worry about. it won't change things between us, or with Danhausen. We're always going to be here for you."

Hook exhales and looks up, searching Orange's face. "I believe you," he says quietly. "I do."

"Good." Orange continues playing with Hook's hair until his fingers slow, sleep slowly claiming him.

Hook's drifting too, an arm wrapped around Orange, face tucked in against his throat securely when his eyes flutter shut and some time passes... until reality shifts and he can feel it, can see it.

Kneeling on the mat after the loss to Joe, weight on his back, over his arms, pressing him down, leaving him prone and unable to defend himself with more shadows hovering threateningly in front of him. Then his vision fails just to return to sharp clarity to show Orange and Danhausen sneering at him, Chuck, Trent, Rocky and even Kris behind them, equally as evil looks on their faces.

He wakes up with a shuddering gasp, fingers digging into Orange's shirt as he strains to catch his breath, overwhelmed by the dream that's been haunting him since Worlds' End. He slowly sits up and searches Orange's face, relieved that he hadn't woke him up.

Orange looks...peaceful. Calm. Like he usually does. Hook continues to search his expression, trying to find anything untoward, suggesting that he should be suspicious or worry, but there is nothing. There's been nothing, except for these damn doubts and these damn dreams. Hook winces and scrubs at his face before settling back down, sighing softly as Orange's arm immediately goes back around him, holding him close.

This time when Hook falls asleep, his sleep is deep and calm. The dream stays away.