A/N: Just a quick note that I haven't heard an exact reason why Adam switched from crutches to wheelchair, but this seemed like a reasonable explanation so this is what I'm going with unless I hear something differently. Just don't want to be the cause of anyone's worry because I'm as clueless as the rest of you.
Travel on crutches had been bad enough. Travel in a wheelchair gives Adam fresh appreciation for everything that people a lot worse off than him goes through. He's exhausted by the time the taxi pulls up in front of Max's building, smiling wearily at the driver when he gets the wheelchair out of the trunk along with Adam's luggage. "Thank you so much," he says, adding extra for a tip.
"Do you need help inside, or-?"
"No-" Adam starts to say before stopping short, hissing under his breath when he realizes he's being watched. "No, uh, I'll be ok."
"Yeah, he'll be fine," Max says, a displeased look on his face as he walks up and rests a hand on the back of Adam's chair. "I've got him."
The driver looks uncertain but Adam nods at him. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks again." Once they're alone, Adam tips his head back and looks up at Max. "Max-"
"We'll talk inside," he says, pushing the chair inside and towards the elevator.
"Your arm-"
"Can handle this, so stop fussing," he says tensely, pushing the button for the penthouse.
Adam sits quietly, not wanting to make things worse while Max's fingers tap against the handles of the chair anxiously. "Max-" he says as soon as the door is shut behind them, Max pushing him towards the bedroom.
"Wait," he says, putting the brakes on the chair once he's close to the bed. Taking Adam's luggage out of his hands, he drops it down by the closet and turns to look at Adam, hands on his hips with a frown. Shaking his head, he kneels down. "Put your arms around my neck," he says, ignoring Adam's incredulous look. "Do it, Adam."
Adam huffs, gingerly putting his arms around Max's neck. "Max- your arm-" his words die away with a startled rush of breath as Max hoists him up out of the chair in one smooth movement, acting like lifting a 200 pound man one armed is nothing. Which, considering he wrestled Samoa Joe with little to no strength in one arm, maybe it is, Adam isn't sure, but it still makes him feel a certain kind of way as Max walks over to the bed and lays him down on it, stepping back to examine him with an even deeper frown.
Huffing, he pushes the wheelchair out of the way, a pointed look at Adam as he moves back to the bed. "Alright. Explain," he says, tense and watchful. "What's with the chair and why did I not know about it until I saw you with it on Dynamite?"
Adam licks his lips, shifts around uncomfortably. "Uh, well. You know I had an appointment with my rehab specialist before I flew out for Dynamite."
"Yeah," Max says, eyes boring into Adam's as he waits. "And?"
"He just told me, that- uh." Adam pauses before rushing through, "I'm hindering my recovery with all of the travel and standing around, so he put in a prescription for a wheelchair that I'm supposed to use for the foreseeable future so I don't have to walk around airports or arenas as much."
Max looks thunderous right now, the speed of Adam's words not stopping him from gathering the meaning of it all. "Adam-"
"I'm going to be ok, though! The wheelchair's already helping! Really, it is!"
Max exhales, unclenching his jaw as he rounds the bed and sits down next to Adam, gaze distant as he tries to collect his thoughts. "Is this my fault?"
Adam looks confused. "What? What do you mean?"
"Making you stand during my match against Jay White, and during the scrum," Max says. "Did it start there? And the match against Joe- the traveling to the PPVs, and-"
"No!" Adam exclaims, eyes wide as he realizes just how far back Max is going in an attempt to blame himself for this. "Not at all! Max, I swear, it's just the weekly travel, and everything that goes with navigating hotels and arenas and airports, I wasn't ready for it. The monthly PPVs, everything was fine, you took very good care of me every step of the way. It's just... a lot more now, doing it weekly, and that along with rehab, it was just a little too much, too soon."
Max tilts his head to look at Adam, frowning. "I told you to make sure those guys were taking care of you."
"They do," he insists. "They try, but you know- I hate inconveniencing people, and it's... it just..." He sighs. "The wheelchair makes it easier, ok? All around, it really does. But I don't want it to be something you're blaming yourself, or them, for. We knew this recovery wouldn't be easy, and you have enough on your own plate to worry about right now."
Max huffs, scrubbing his good hand through his curls, before casting a wan look at Adam. "We really do suck at taking care of ourselves, don't we?"
Adam chuckles a little, nodding. "We're horrible. No self-preservation at all."
Max sighs, eyes darting over to the wheelchair before his lips twitch up a little. "Well, Piper seems to like it at least."
Adam glances over to find that while they were busy talking, she had hopped up and curled up in the seat of it, purring audible all the way over to the bed. "Appears so," he says with a smile.
Max rolls over and wraps an arm around Adam, resting his head on his shoulder. "You'll let me know next time something like this happens, right? So I don't have to find out about it just because I happen to see you on TV?"
"Yeah," Adam mumbles, running his fingers over Max's back, up to his neck. "I promise. And I'm sorry, it must've really been a shock."
"It was." He pinches Adam's side. "Jerk."
Adam startles and huffs, laughing a little. "I swear, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"
"Good," Max mumbles. "You'd better not."