Fathers

by corneroffandom

Christian likes to challenge himself. He's succeeded well at building his family up to this point, but now he thinks it's time to try something new. Enter Hook.

Christian catches his breath as the match ends and the brawling around him slowly, finally, gets contained by the referees and other security people. He staggers to his feet and surveys the area before tugging at Killswitch, the two of them rolling out to meet with Nick and Mother Wayne on the outside. Christian is walking up the ramp when he looks over and his eyes lock with the angry, dark gaze of Hook.

Hook stands his own, stares right back, doesn't back down. It's amusing. It's impressive. It's... intriguing, really. Most people in AEW have either grown so disgusted or intimidated by Christian's mere presence that they won't even glance his way, but here's this young guy, barely three years in the business, squaring up, staring back at him, unimpressed or not intimidated. Christian feels a familiar hunger burning deep inside, a need to claim, to possess, to sculpt into the perfect son. He had almost done so with Jack, had succeeded with Nick, and to some degree, Killswitch. He thinks he could do so too with Taz's boy, if given the chance.

Christian likes a challenge. He's collected enough orphans, now he wonders what it would be like to shape and mold a man who has a father, with strong familial ties outside of the business. It stays in the back of his mind, possibilities and ideas brewing, racing through every path that could lead him to where he wants to be.

He barely notices as Nick and Killswitch follow him out of the arena, still lost in thought. He doesn't have easy access to Hook, the kid infamous for keeping to himself, only allowing a select few into his immediate circle, but Christian's never given up that easily, and he's not going to start now. He'll find a way. He always does.

"Christian?" Mother Wayne asks, and he glances towards her. She too has a curious look on her face, and he smirks, not surprised she's noticed. "You're planning something."

"Yes," he says thoughtfully, considering what it'll feel like to draw a son away from his father. The power of such a thing. Thinks perhaps it won't be as difficult as some would assume. "I am."

Mother Wayne looks around at their group before glancing back over at him, careful not to be noticed before she turns to Christian. "You want to bring someone new into the family."

"Well spotted," he says, impressed with her ability to read him. He smirks, glancing over to Nick for a moment before turning back towards her. "Do you think Nick would like an older brother?"

Mother Wayne thinks it over, then nods slowly. "Yes, I think so."

Christian's smirk grows a little wider, his eyes glinting a little darker. "Perfect. Let's go discuss some things." He wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders and leads the way to the car.

-x

Hook's head is spinning after his team loses to Christian's team. Yeah, it was an eight man, yeah, he didn't take the pin, but dammit. It's still demoralizing. Especially since he'd been hoping to get some momentum before the scramble the next night. He flexes his hand against the strap of his belt, pressing the back of his head against the wall with a sigh. He squints an eye open and looks over at Orange. "You ok?"

Orange holds his breath for a moment, then nods. "You?"

"Yeah," Hook says quietly. They're both lying, it's obvious. Things haven't felt the same for Hook since... god, he doesn't know. Losing to Jack? Probably. Even though he won the title back,, and has held it successfully since then, things are still tense. He doesn't know if he'll ever get past those weeks of panic, certain that he'd ruined everything, that Taz would never forgive him for losing the belt. For destroying the legacy he'd built decades earlier, in ECW.

Hook closes his eyes and leans into Orange's warmth for a minute before pulling away. "Gonna go get some chips," he mumbles. He's not really hungry, but he needs something to keep his hands busy, his mind occupied. Somehow. "Want anything?"

Orange shakes his head. "No, I'm ok. Thanks." He offers a weak smile as Hook nods and takes his leave.

The hallway leading into catering is suspiciously quiet. Hook glances around, uncertain what to think about it. He decides it's probably just his own general sour mood and the state of everything that's been going on lately that adds to his suspicions and paranoia, so he forces himself to trudge on, but then there's a flash of white to his left and he stops, turning quickly to catch whoever it is, preparing for a fight just in case, when the person steps out of the shadows and holds their hands up in what looks like they mean it to be a sign of peace.

Nick Wayne's eyes glint as Hook stays still, watching him. "Hello, Hook," he says. He searches Hook's face and smirks, shrugging when Hook makes no move to greet him or leave. "It's interesting," he muses. "We're both second generation wrestlers, but we've never really talked before. I always wondered how we would get along."

Hook scoffs a little, brushing his hand over his nose, then moves to push aggressively past him, already disinterested in whatever this is.

"I've also wondered a lot about your father," Nick says, which stops Hook short, a glower on his face as he turns sharply back towards him.

"What the hell did you just say?" Hook demands, eyes flashing dangerously.

Nick shrugs. "I mean, it's not often a father easily says for the world to hear how much he hates his son. Right? At least I would hope not. But there Taz was, on commentary, on television that's broadcast world wide, no less, saying-"

Hook grits his teeth, wavering on his feet as he stares at Nick, all emotions wiped from his face as abruptly as they'd come. "Shut up," he says coldly.

Nick raises his eyebrows, watching him. "I mean, you have to wonder, right? Why he said that? And how he sounded so nonchalant about it? Like he's said it before? And Excalibur's response to it? it was as if they've all heard it before. Do you think he complains about you to them regularly? Do you-"

Hook moves, quickly, gripping Nick by the shirt and slamming him hard into the wall, pinning him there with a forearm over his throat, pressing down hard. "I said shut up. You don't know him, or us. I don't know what you're trying here, but it stops now. Get me?"

Nick nods, his eyes flickering around Hook's face, before he lifts an arm in a half-hearted shrug. "Sure," he says once Hook's arm eases back and the pressure fades enough for him to breathe, to speak. "I've got you."

Hook releases him with violent force, pushing him into the wall one last time as he moves away. One last cold glare and he turns around, storming off towards catering.

Nick exhales slowly, his smile growing as Christian appears and glances down the hall quickly before approaching him. "What do you think?"

Christian hums. "I am impressed with you, as always," he says, pressing a hand warmly to the side of Nick's face, checking his throat out. "He's stubborn, I knew he would be, but we'll get there. This was a fantastic first step." He squeezes Nick's neck before turning him around and guiding him down the hall. "Come on, your mother is waiting so we can go find something to eat."

He smirks as they join Killswitch and Mother Wayne, already thinking ahead. To the next step, and the step after that. All designed to make Hook think, to make him doubt. And ultimately to see where he'd belong at the best.
-x

Hook's body is throbbing after he defeats Brian Cage. He can still feel tacks scraping against his shoulder blades, which makes him grit his teeth. It's an annoying shift of pain with every step he takes, and he just wants to get back to medical and get them removed, but god it all feels so far away right now. He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes, trying to focus on the path ahead of him, trying not to trip over anything. He clings to his title belt and struggles to breathe normally, each inhale and exhale exacerbating the scraping sensations in his back.

He's tired physically and emotionally and Nick's words from the week before keep echoing in his mind, taunting him. Making him think things he doesn't want to dwell on, the way his dad had sounded when he'd said those damning words, how the cameras were aimed in the ring so Hook wasn't even sure what his expression was at the time he'd said it. Yeah, he's pretty sure he was just joking in that usual weird dry way of his, but Nick's fixation on that brief moment in the show makes Hook second guess himself. It's probably Christian trying to stir shit, he tries to remind himself as he trudges further down the hallway, breathing roughly. Don't listen, don't think about it... don't-

He's so close to medical, he can almost taste it, staring fixedly at the door at the end of the hallway he's currently walking slowly down, fingers digging into the strap of his FTW title harder as he goes. He realizes there's someone in his path and steps gingerly to the side to dodge them, trying to continue on, when a hand presses against his chest and he gasps, the coolness of their fingers against his sore flesh stopping him short. He grimaces and forces his head up, staring at the woman in front of him, blinking some of the sweat out of his eyes to try to focus on her. "What the hell?" he asks, his tongue feeling thick even around these relatively small words.

Mother Wayne stares at him, quirking an eyebrow curiously. "Hook, right?"

"What do you want?" he asks, breathless and desperate to get past her, get off of his feet, get rid of the scraping pricks of pain up and down his spine and shoulders.

"I was informed that my son talked to you last week." She smirks as he drops his head forward, not wanting to think about Nick any longer.

"Didn't care then," he forces out through gritted teeth. "Don't care now." He tries to push past her again but she shifts, blocking his path just enough that he can't move past her without causing himself more pain. He groans. "Move."

"I just have one question for you," she says, shifting around to catch his gaze.

He's spiraling. This can't be reality right now. Everything hurts, he can barely think straight, and now Nick Wayne's mother won't leave him alone long enough to take six or seven more steps down the hall to collapse on a cot and let medical torture him by pulling out the tacks he still feels embedded in his flesh for the next hour or however long it may take. He digs his fingers into the plaster of the wall he's wedged himself against in an attempt to get past her, and she takes this as her opportunity.

"What did your mother think when your father said he hates second generation wrestlers? Did she at least try to comfort you?" Shayna softens her voice. "I would never let anyone talk about my son like that, I hope she was there for you afterwards. I would've been if it'd been-"

Thankfully, someone pushes past Shayna then, standing next to him, and Hook breathes a little easier as he feels a familiar touch, careful, gentle, against his upper arm. "Orange," he chokes out.

"Hey, come on, let's get you to medical." Orange guides Hook past Shayna and pushes the door open, helping him inside.

As he shuffles towards the thankfully empty medical cot that is calling his name, Hook vaguely hears Shayna trying to say something else, but her voice quickly gets muffled, then drowned out entirely when Orange pointedly shuts the door with a loud click. He finally makes it to the cot that's been his goal since he left the ring and lays down on his stomach. He breathes out and blinks sluggishly, ignoring the chatter around him as the staff begin their work. "Thanks," he mumbles, squinting up at Orange as best as he can from this angle.

"Would've been here sooner, but got caught up in an interview with Chuck and Trent," he says, lacing their fingers together and squeezing Hook's hand. "Sorry about that." He trails his thumb over Hook's knuckles, watching as the staff disinfect Hook's back, preparing to remove the tacks that hadn't shook loose on his walk here. "What, uh. What did Shayna Wayne want?"

Hook exhales shakily, tensing up as the first couple of tacks are pulled free from his back. "Uh," he groans. "She was bugging me about my dad, I don't-" His breath hitches at another painful tug lower down his back. "I don't really know."

"Ok," Orange murmurs. "No worries. Just breathe." He leans in and kisses Hook's forehead, smiling sympathetically down at him as the staff continue their work.

Hook can't focus enough to remember everything Shayna had said, but damn, he wishes they'd just leave him alone. He doesn't want to think about what his dad said, or the motivations behind his saying it, or what his mom thought. He just... he doesn't.

Outside back in the hall, Shayna shrugs as Christian joins her. "He didn't want to talk," she admits. "I tried, but he was still in a lot of pain. Maybe I should've waited."

"No, no," Christian says, patting her arm. "Your timing was perfect. He'll be thinking about it more than he'll want to admit. It all went perfectly. Thank you."

She smiles at him and follows him down the hall to meet back up with Nick and Killswitch, decide on the next course of action while they wait for another opportunity.

-x

After Dynamite, Orange and Hook have a couple of days to themselves to relax and get caught up on things at home. Which means Hook has almost too much time to think, and in order to not focus on the Waynes targeting him the last week, he struggles to find anything else to dwell on, which ultimately means he spends his free time mulling over what's been going on with Orange lately.

The silence has turned oddly tense, Orange's eyes flickering from the TV to Hook and back, but then Hook sits up and mutes the TV, turning to face him fully. "There's something I've been wondering about," he says, tugging loosely at his hoodie cords.

Orange blinks at him. "Alright," he says hesitantly. "What is it?"

"You're doing this tag team thing with Trent," Hook starts off, weighing how best to word this as he glances over at Orange, deciding just to go for it. "Why didn't you try to get another match against Strong for the International title?"

Orange sits for a minute, shoulders tense, before he exhales, body relaxing slowly. "I've held it twice already," he says quietly. "It's been the focal point of my career for a long time, and I... I'm tired. I'm beat up, and I'm... I don't think I really got over losing it the first time, you know?" He sighs and shrugs. "Roddy can keep it for now, I need to focus on Trent and Chuck."

"Right," Hook says slowly. "I guess I just... I don't know, I expected you to fight for it more."

Orange stares at him blankly. "How much harder am I supposed to fight for it, Hook? It's taken up so much of my life and my time, I've backburnered everything else that matters to me to fight for it. I just think it's time for a change in my priorities."

Hook looks conflicted as Orange finishes talking, fingers toying with the strap of his FTW title. "I don't know," he says quietly, his gaze distant. "I don't think I could ever just walk away from this title."

"I felt like that too," Orange says. "Look where it got me."

Hook blinks a couple of times, then nods, looking away. They've never really seriously argued, in the months that they've gotten closer. Hook may be known for having a short fuse but something about losing his temper with Orange never felt right, and Orange was always too laid back to really get worked up anyway. But things are tense now, the usual comfortable silence between them feeling awkward and awful the longer they sit and stare pointedly at anything but each other. Hook regrets mentioning it, even as he picks at his title and tries to straighten out his thoughts.

He can tell Orange isn't going to say anything, try to get things moving again, so Hook stands with a sigh and glances over at him. "Going to go get a drink. You, uh. You want anything?"

"No thanks," Orange says and something twisted in the tone of his voice makes Hook feel even worse.

"Alright," he mumbles, relieved to leave the room, let the cool air of the fridge brush over his skin as he stares in at the few groceries they have. He's focused on the options before him, trying to decide what he actually wants, though now that he's here, it's pretty clear he's not really thirsty or hungry, his emotions too all over the place after that conversation with Orange for anything to really look appetizing.

He grabs a bottle of water and shuts the door, leaning against it and closing his eyes. Should've just kept your mouth shut, he thinks before pulling away and venturing back into the living room, thoughts spiraling even worse.

Things are still a little tense between them a few days later, when they've traveled out again for that week's Dynamite. Hook's lost in thought, dwelling on the last few days and how he just keeps making things worse, aimlessly staring into the soda machine, when he hears a throat clear behind him. "Sorry," he mumbles, shuffling aside to let whoever it is have access to the machine too. But no one approaches and he frowns, turning to see what's going on. He blanches as soon as he realizes that it's Christian standing behind him, eyes dark and fixed on him. He grits his teeth, so sick of all of this. Some of that fast building anger starts to grow, his lips twisting as he glowers out of his hoodie at the man.

Christian seems unfazed by his anger, that unending smirk only growing as he peers at Hook. "I understand that Mother Wayne and Nick felt the need to come talk to you."

Hook continues to just stare at him, and Christian's smirk only grows.

"Very verbose, aren't you?" he asks. "Is that why Taz is so comfortable saying such hurtful things about you?"

Hook takes a threatening step closer and stares at him viciously, eyes squinted with anger. "Shut up," he finally says, and Christian's eyes glint.

"Ah, he speaks," he says. "We're just concerned, Hook. I understand how it feels to struggle to be what everyone expects you to be, and never quite feeling like you're measuring up. I would never make you feel that way. With me, you would always know you're part of a real family, who would always love and accept you for the way you are without trying to change anything about you."

Hook feels strangely flushed, hot under the collar, which never usually happens unless he's really pissed off, but there's something humiliating about Christian's tone, the look in his eyes as he says these things. He just wants all of the Patriarchy to stop trying to use Taz against him, he wants everything to move on, he wants Orange to forget how weird he had gotten about their individual title situations, he wants things to go back to how it used to be, when he was confident in his title reign and things actually felt stable again.

He digs his hands into his hoodie pockets and turns sharply, storming away from Christian and making his way back to the locker rooms. He's grinding his teeth together when he pushes the door open and leans against it for a minute, breathing in deeply.

Orange stands and stares. "Are you ok?" he asks, concern on his face, tinging his voice. "What happened?"

He doesn't want to talk about Christian. He doesn't want to verbalize the bullshit that Nick, Shayna and now Christian have said to him the last week. "I'm sorry," he says, meeting Orange's gaze, some of the anger melting away with his flush as he finds he can breathe a little easier now that they're talking again. "I shouldn't have said that shit to you about the International title. I know everything you went through, you deserve to do whatever you want without me making things harder on you."

Orange nods, approaching him. "I, uh. I appreciate that." He glances at the FTW title, lips twitching up into a sad sort of smile. "I understand why you feel the way you do about it too, and I hope you never reach your breaking point with it either." He rests his hand on Hook's shoulder, next to where the title rests, and Hook exhales slowly, staring at him. "We're ok, Hook. I promise."

Hook relaxes even more, meeting Orange halfway when he leans in for a kiss, the two of them feeling the last of the tension fading away as they touch. Hook sighs into Orange's mouth, everything else slowly fading away as he curls his fingers around Orange's forearms and holds on, desperate for something to steady him as he finally gets distracted from nonstop wondering about what Christian and the others are trying to manipulate him into. Something that he can't make sense of, what exactly they want from him.

-x

Collision doesn't really have anything scheduled for him, but Hook is there, watching Jericho's match. Christian isn't the only one uncomfortably interested in him lately, but Hook is unable to fully shake his base instinct so when Jericho starts getting overwhelmed by the Gates of Agony, he goes out with a kendo stick and runs them off. Jericho looks thrilled but Hook leaves as quickly as he can, eager not to encourage this any further. He may not want to see Jericho get his ass kicked by three guys, but he's also not interested in partnering more regularly with him, though he thinks the choice might get taken from him anyway if Tony Khan wants to make a tag match now that he's involved himself . It's an uncomfortable thought, he hates it and wishes that Jericho could just move on already. He's not interested in being a replacement for Sammy Guevara, or whatever Jericho might be thinking.

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't hear heavy footsteps following behind him right away, turning with his kendo stick held protectively up, ready to strike, as soon as he does but it's too late. The instance he turns, something heavy slams into him, forcing him into the wall so hard that it knocks the breath out of him, leaving him staring up into Killswitch's eyes with horror as his forearm digs into Hook's throat, ridding him of more precious oxygen. The sound of the kendo stick clattering to the ground distantly registers with him and he chokes, clawing at Killswitch's grip with weakening desperation.

His eyes flash over as Christian walks up, Nick and Mother Wayne behind him. He groans breathlessly and Christian clucks at him, leaning against the wall next to where Hook is pinned. "Look at you," he tsks. "Just listening to us would've made things so much easier instead of fighting us the last few weeks. Don't you think? We wouldn't be in this position now." He mumbles something to Killswitch and Hook gasps and chokes as some of the pressure is eased from his throat and a little bit of oxygen rushes into his lungs.

His eyes are watering, everything feels kind of hazy and painful. Christian is still talking and he's trying to tune him out, trying to grasp at memories of everything Christian's done in the past to steady himself- the things he's done to Jack, to Adam Copeland, to so many people over the last year. He vaguely hears his dad's name and grits his teeth, anger rushing through him- he knows Taz loves him, no matter what comments he may have made recently, and he knows- he knows... he...

Hook forces his eyes open and stares at Christian as Killswitch eases up even further, allowing him more oxygen, letting him focus a little easier.

"It must be hard," Christian muses once he sees Hook's eyes on him. "Living with the burden of doing all you can to uphold your father's legacy, defending his title, while being aware of how he really feels about you. Wouldn't you like to make your own path? Be known for your own ability and not things taken from a time long past? I see it in you, Hook, you could be so special." His hand is resting next to Hook's head, his fingers almost toying with Hook's hair even as Killswitch continues to pin him against the wall. "You could be my son. I would help you achieve all you want to gain in this world. You would finally have a family that would fully accept you for who you are. Myself, Mother Wayne, Nick. We would all be here for you, whatever you may need from us. We wouldn't judge or insult you."

Hook doesn't want to hear this. He wants so badly to get away from all of this, but his thoughts are still hazy from the sudden loss of oxygen, and his shoulderblades ache from being ground into the cement wall for so long, his head also beginning to throb from the hard impact and making itself known more and more as he gets oxygen back into his lungs. At this point, he'd almost be happy to see Jericho coming to the rescue, but no. He's all alone. Taz doesn't fly out for Collision, Orange had decided to stay home and rest between tag matches, so he can't see an easy way out, he's so outnumbered right now and Killswitch won't give him an inch.

Christian is still murmuring to him, insistent and determined, and Hook breathes shallowly through it, his words digging deeper into Hook's thoughts, amplifying everything. How he's been struggling with himself since losing to Jack, Jericho not taking no for an answer, constantly being reminded of Taz's comments all of those weeks ago, and how tense and uncertain things have been with Orange since he had to open his mouth about the International title. It's all so overwhelming, he just needs it all to stop. He slumps against Killswitch's forearm and feels the larger man shift, adjusting to hold him upright, and stares into Christian's eyes, desperate for something that he can't even fully grasp.

"Let him go," Christian says, watching as Killswitch slowly eases his arm the rest of the way off of Hook's throat, stepping back. When Hook doesn't move away from the wall, Christian searches his face. "Son?"

Hook blinks, breathing shallowly as he stares back at Christian, something breaking in him as he gives in, lets go. "Yes," he says, his fists slowly relaxing at his sides, the fight leaving him.

Christian's lips twist into a grin, twisted and evil. "I knew you'd see sense, Hook," he says, resting a hand loosely on Hook's shoulder and, when he doesn't resist, drawing him in to their circle. "Welcome to the family."

-x

Orange feels unmoored, moving faster and with more purpose than he remembers ever doing so outside of championship matches before. He searches as he goes, sunglasses for once in his pocket so he can see everything unhindered- hallways, side rooms, every place he passes he looks at, desperate. There's still an hour to go before Dynamite so he has enough time, he hopes. When he spots a flash of orange, he turns instinctively towards it and walks quickly to the person wearing it. "Taz," he says, watching as Taz removes his sunglasses and blinks.

"Orange? What's up?" He looks confused and Orange knows it's because he never searches him out like this, even after months of being in a relationship with Hook, but it'd felt necessary. "What's wrong?" he corrects himself when Orange continues to stand there, tense and quiet, his eyes darting around.

"Have you seen Hook? Or heard from him?"

Taz frowns, then mulls this over, toying with his cell phone, checking it quickly. "Uh, no, I haven't," he says. "You know that's not too uncommon, he rarely responds to texts. Why? Is there something I should know about?"

Orange winces, hoping that Taz would've had a better answer for him. "I haven't heard from him since he left for Collision, and I..." He grits his teeth. "I'm worried something happened. He helped Jericho, and then... nothing. He didn't come back home, he hasn't called or texted, or anything. I..." He exhales. "I'm worried. What if someone did something? What if..." His words fail him and he cringes. "Taz..."

"Hey," Taz says, reaching out and squeezing Orange's arm. "My kid's tough. You know this, better than most." He shrugs. "We'll find him. Try not to worry too much." Taz checks his watch. "I have to go ringside in about twenty minutes. We'll split up and look around, alright? It'll work out."

Orange nods. "I'll go left," he says, already looking down the hallway he hasn't searched yet. "Text me when you have to go."

"Will do. He'll be alright." Taz claps a hand against Orange's shoulder before making his way to the right, looking back and forth as he wakes his phone up and begins to type out something, probably to send to Hook.

Orange exhales slowly and turns, beginning his careful examination of the hallway and all of its various paths. He takes a couple of lefts, then another right, still looking. Still searching. Desperation growing as he approaches the exit on this side of the building. "C'mon, Hook," he exhales. "Please."

He hadn't thought much of it after not hearing anything Saturday night, sometimes Hook just needs time to himself after an event, overstimulated or just too angry to talk, but the continued silence through Sunday had been his first clue that something was wrong, leading to him texting Hook's number a few times despite his own distaste for such things. Monday passing with no word had left him even more frantic, even going so far as to call a couple of times, his worry growing when he'd gotten no answer either time. Tuesday had led him to texting a few friends of Hook, all of whom seem as confused and concerned as he himself feels. And now he's here, no choice but to turn to Taz for help.

He winces and continues down another hall, finding that he's almost looped back to where he'd left Taz... when he sees a person walking down the hall, slouched deep, face hidden by a very familiar hoodie. He would recognize them anywhere, his steps picking up speed as he rushes to try to catch them- he's about to yell out, try to stop them, but instead he's the one who stops short when the locker room door opens and Nick Wayne is standing there, tilting his head towards Hook with a small smirk on his face.

All Orange can do is watch, jaw dropping, as Nick holds his fist out and Hook bumps fists with him, the two of them disappearing into the locker room, the door shutting behind them with a horrible click that snaps Orange out of his thoughts. "No way," he chokes out, fumbling for his phone. He's about to text Taz, fingers shaking so hard that he can barely press the button to light his screen back up, when a text comes in and he stops, breathing raggedly as he reads it. "Fuck," he breathes, shoulders slumping.

Didn't find anything, Taz's text reads. Had to go out, sorry. Will help you look more later if you still can't find him by the end of the show. It'll be alright.

He looks up at the locker room door in front of him and shakes his head, not believing it. Texts back quickly, Taz, I think Christian has him. I think- I think he's gotten into Hook's head, I think... He's not sure how to explain it. That his significant other, that Taz's son, is now in with the man who seems determined to break or own every vulnerable person in the business, using anything he can think of against them, from lost fathers, to any kind of trauma, to... His thoughts falter and he shakes his head. "What is he using against you, Hook?" he wonders, remembering the look on Hook's face when Orange had found him with Shayna Wayne. "What are they doing to you?"

He stares at the door, wishing that he knew what to do. Knocking on the door and forcing his way inside won't help- he's outnumbered, and there's enough going on right now, he won't risk the tag title opportunity that Trent so has his heart set on, so with one last troubled look at the door, he reluctantly leaves, walks back up the hallway and hopes that whatever happens tonight, whatever Hook does while in the company of Christian, won't be too terrible since he doubts Taz will read his text while at ringside.

A little over an hour into Dynamite, Christian appears on the screen, an eerie smirk on his face. He talks for awhile, saying a whole lot of nothing. Talks about his upcoming match against Adam Copeland for the TNT title. Then he shifts, stands a little straighter, his smirk growing even uglier. Orange knows it's coming before he even opens his mouth, but it still hurts when he begins to speak. "But in the meanwhile," he says, "I have good news. My family continues to grow." He sneers and holds an arm out, motioning towards someone just out of view of the camera. "I have gone out of my way to help my son, The Prodigy Nick Wayne, find his way, and now I'm happy to announce that another lost son has come to me for my guidance, my steady hand in easing him through this world we find ourselves in. We'll have to change your name, but for now..."

Orange can do nothing but watch, horrified and knocked breathless, as Hook walks up next to Christian, nodding along agreeably. He looks the same as he had when Orange had seen him in the hallway, the hoodie shadowing his face so that most of his expression is hard to see, but then Christian reaches over and plucks at the hoodie.

"What have we talked about regarding this, Hook?"

Hook's eyes dart around before he reaches up and drops the hoodie back, revealing his face to the camera. His lips are twisted, his eyes dark and almost scarily emotionless. "Sorry," he says shortly, and Christian nods.

"It's fine, son. We'll work on it."

Orange can't watch anymore, he turns away, but it doesn't matter. The screen goes dark, then returns to ringside a moment later, Taz staring into the monitor with a dark look on his face, skin paler than Orange thinks he's ever seen it. "What the-" he demands, before the rest of what he says gets edited out.

Orange exhales slowly. What the fuck indeed.

-x

"I don't know what to do," Taz admits, staring at the TV. He and Orange had met up backstage as soon as Dynamite had ended, staring quietly at each other before they'd returned to the hotel together, trying to find a strategy to use against Christian. A way to get Hook back.

The plans and ideas that they'd volleyed back and forth in the immediate aftermath of it all started off maybe a little promising but quickly lost focus and sense as time went by, their worry growing to near panicked levels after rewatching Christian's reveal of his 'new son', and now they're here. In Orange's apartment, waiting for Collision to come on, hoping that Christian and Hook will appear on the show.

It feels like an unending two hours, but Christian nor Hook appears once. Their fears, however, intensify when Adam Copeland reveals his new weapon- Spike. It's a brutal mess of a weapon, a black plank full of thick, long nails embedded in both sides. Orange and Taz stare at it, eyes wide, before looking at each other. Both are thinking the same, horrible thing.

If Adam has that weapon during his match against Christian, the chance that Christian will use Nick or Hook to shield himself from it is horribly high. Taz buries his face in his hands and scrubs viciously at his forehead before sitting up with a sigh. "Fuck," he mumbles, casting a beseeching glance towards Orange. "Hey."

"Yeah," Orange mumbles, still staring at the TV, the memory of Adam's new weapon replaying again and again in his mind. He can only imagine the kind of damage a blow from something like that would do to someone.

"Look, we'll figure this out," Taz tells him. "We have some time. But you gotta promise me you won't even mention this to Hook's mom. She won't handle it well, it's hard enough convincing her that he's going to be ok with Christian until we can convince him to come back home. If she knows that Copeland has made this threat against Christian and the others, well, it won't be good for any of us. So just promise me, alright, Orange?"

Orange swallows, then nods. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I promise."

"Good man," Taz sighs. "Well, it's late. I gotta get home before I give her something else to worry about. We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

Orange nods. "Yeah." Taz squeezes his shoulder before taking his leave, and Orange closes his eyes, not wanting to look too closely around the apartment. It's quiet, it's empty. It's felt void of all life since Hook disappeared. He never thought he could grow to hate this home of his that he's built through the years, but yeah. He does. He hates it so much he almost feels like asking Copeland if he could borrow Spike and just tear it all to shreds.

But he knows he can't. Hook would never forgive him for both destroying their home and wasting their security deposite, but also... well, also, Hook'll need a place to go home to when he's fought free of whatever the hell Christian has done to him. Orange sighs and drops down onto the couch, stretching out as best as he can. Their bed is much nicer, but it feels... wrong to sleep in it alone, after all of these months spent with Hook laying next to him, breathing in and out softly. He can't handle the silence, the untouched half of the bed mocking him through the night. None of it. So here he stays, on the couch, where he tosses and turns until the sun breaks and he stirs, feeling exhausted and worn down, but determined to try again. To save Hook, come what may of it.

-x

In the days following Collision, Taz spends more time at home, trying to keep Hook's mom from worrying too much. Which leaves Orange with less to distract himself with, his own worries and fears his only company until he makes it to the airport to fly out for Dynamite that Tuesday.

He's just walked into the hotel, dragging his luggage, when he hears his phone chime. He blinks and tugs it free of his pocket, staring at it with a strange burst of hope until he sees that it's just a text from Taz. He sighs and swipes to access the message, staring at it.

Are you at the hotel, we need to talk

Yes, he responds. Where are you?

Taz sends him his room number and Orange nods, heading over to the front desk to check in. As soon as he has his key in hand, he makes it to the elevator and finds his way to Taz's room. He knocks and waits as Taz unlocks the door and lets him in. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Taz says, walking back over to the desk chair which he sinks into with a sigh. "Have you heard anything?"

"No. Have you?"

"Unfortunately, no," Taz says. "But I've been thinking about something. Will you back me up here?"

Orange blinks. "Yes? With what?"

Taz looks grim, exhaling slowly. Before he can explain, there's a knock at the door and he motions to Orange, who hesitantly turns to the door and opens it.

Adam Copeland stands in the hallway, a tense look on his face. He blinks upon coming face to face with Orange, and then looks past him. "Hello?"

Orange grimaces, guessing at what Taz is planning on doing here. "Come in," he says, stepping aside.

Taz shifts in his chair, examining Adam. "We need to talk," he says. "You know Christian has my son."

Adam nods. "Yes, I saw that," he says, digging his hands into his pockets while looking back and forth between Orange and Taz.

"I get it," Taz says, staring intently at him. "I understand why you want revenge against Christian, I would too, trust me. But my son's never done anything to you. So I need you to promise me."

"Promise you," Adam says dully, quirking an eyebrow in question.

"I think we all know there's a fair chance Christian will use Hook or Nick in your match tomorrow night," Taz tells him. "But I need to hear from you that you'll do your best to not hit my son with that Spike of yours. Alright? That's all I ask of you."

Adam sighs. "Listen, I have kids most I can say is I have absolutely no plans on hurting Nick or Hook tomorrow, as long as they stay out of my way. Christian is my only focus."

Taz sighs. "I know it's the best I can expect in this situation." He stands up from the chair and holds his hand out, watching Adam grimly. "Thank you."

Adam nods, meeting him half way and shaking his hand before glancing over at Orange. Orange holds out his hand halfheartedly and they fistbump, more a brush of their knuckles than anything, before Adam turns and leaves the room, Taz's door shutting heavily behind him.

"Well," Taz sighs. "I guess all we can hope for is that Hook still has some self-preservation and won't sacrifice himself for Christian's bullshit."

Based on the tone of Taz's voice, he has as much belief in that as Orange does. "He'll be ok."

Taz glances over at him, sinking back down into the chair. "Yeah," he says quietly.

Orange gnaws on his lower lip, thinking that Taz has never looked this old. "Are you ok?"

Taz shrugs, then grimaces, his shoulders clearly giving him trouble. "I will be once Hook is out of that bullshit."

Orange nods, sitting down at the edge of the bed. "Yeah," he sighs. "Me too."

They exchange glances and Taz nods at him, nudging over the remote. "Wanna watch something?"

Orange fiddles with the device, lips twitching up mirthlessly. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Sure."

Even the droning TV doesn't help distract them from what may come tomorrow. The fact that they haven't even seen Hook in days, and haven't heard from him in even longer. Christian really does quite the job in isolating everyone in his 'family'. Orange knows that this match tomorrow with Adam will be their best chance of freeing him, but the uncertainty and worry that haunts both of them while they try to pass the time still hurts.

-x

Watching the match the next night is horrible. Orange has a match later in the evening himself, but all he can do is sit there and flex his fists, watching as Killswitch, Nick and Hook attack Adam, raining down kicks and punches upon his prone form, holding him down for Mother Wayne to slap him. If it's hard for him to watch from this angle, too aware that it'd only take one wrong move for Adam to recover and use Spike against one or all of them, he can only imagine how it must feel for Taz from the commentary desk. The closest any of them have been to Hook in weeks, but unable to do anything about it.

Orange looks up at a scramble out in the hall and pokes his head out, watching as Daniel Garcia and Matt Menard race past. "What's going on?"

Daddy Magic pauses and looks back at him. "We're goin' to ringside to help Cope!" he calls out with a whoop before chasing after Garcia.

Orange takes one deep breath, glances back at the monitor, where Copeland is still being overwhelmed by the numbers, and takes off after them. Garcia and Menard have already scattered Hook and Nick, Killswitch snarling as they trap him in the corner and handcuff him to the ropes, Adam diving out onto Nick and Hook, getting back to his feet quickly and grabbing Nick, tossing him into the ring for Garcia and Menard to deal with.

He's just reached out for Hook, who is gaping at him through a curtain of messy hair, eyes wide, when Orange makes it around the ring, finally, grabbing Hook by the arm and turning him around. "I've got him," he tells Adam, holding onto Hook, and Adam grimaces, looking somewhat skeptical, but he nods and slips back into the ring to finish things with Christian. "I've got you, Hook," he reiterates while Hook gapes at him.

"Orange," he says, wavering as he glances back towards the ring. "I, I have to help Christian, I-"

"No," Orange tells him, easing his hands down Hook's wrists to lace their fingers together. "You're going to stay here with me. Alright? You can't help Christian now."

"But..." He tries to twist, to look into the ring, but Orange squeezes his fingers, holding him in place. "Orange-"

Orange releases his hand and reaches up, cradling Hook's jaw. "Look at me," he says softly. "I can only imagine what Christian's been saying to you the last few weeks, but it's not true. None of it, alright? He doesn't care about you. I do. Your parents do. We want you to be safe, Hook. We want to be able to spend time with you again. Christian's made that impossible, hasn't he?"

Hook stares at him, eyes wide. Wet. Vulnerable. "He, he said that..." He closes his eyes and exhales, overwhelmed. "He reminded me that dad hates me. That I was better off with him, that- that..."

"Wait, what? He said Taz hates you?" Orange echoes incredulously.

"He said it," Hook says, lips trembling slightly.

"What? Who? When?"

"Dad," Hook sighs. "He said on commentary that he hates second generation wrestlers, remember?" He looks miserable. "That's me, so..."

Orange frowns at him, glancing over at Taz, who is watching them closely even as he tries to keep up with Excalibur and Tony in calling the final minutes of Adam vs Christian. "Hook, is this what Nick, Shayna and Christian kept cornering you about in the halls?"

Hook nods, trembling under Orange's fingers. "Yes," he admits wearily. "They wouldn't stop reminding me about it. I don't know what happened. Killswitch did something... I can't remember..." He drops his head forward, resting against Orange's shoulder, and Orange hums, looking over at the ring as Adam threatens Christian with Spike, a murderous look on his face.

They all hear when Christian quits, his voice biting through the general noise around them, followed by the bell ringing and Adam's music beginning to play. Hook tenses and moves to pull away from Orange, but Orange shakes his head and holds on. "Hook, no," he says, putting some uncharacteristic steel in his voice. "You're staying here with me. Alright?"

Hook looks up at him, a strange emotion crossing his face. "You want me to?"

Orange stares back at him, shocked. "Yes, Hook," he says, forcing the words out through numb lips. "Of course I want you to. I've missed you so much the last couple of weeks."

Hook's face crumbles so quickly, so harshly that it hurts Orange just to look at him. "I've missed you too," he says, plaintive. "I... it was weird, Christian, and Nick, and- and Mother Wayne, it all felt... fake? Forced? I don't know..."

Orange nods, squeezing his hands. His match is soon, he knows, Trent will expect him to come backstage soon, but Hook is more important. "Come on," he says gently, wrapping an arm around Hook and guiding him over to the commentary table where Taz is standing, watching them.

"Dad," Hook says shakily, staring at him with wide, wet eyes.

"Tyler," Taz says, reaching out for him. Orange lets go and watches as Taz guides Hook in, cupping his face and searching his eyes. "What happened, son?"

Hook trembles as he explains, words stilted and shaky, sometimes barely audible over the crowd and theme music, everything else going on around them, but Orange can tell Taz is listening intently, a thunderous look crossing his face as Hook breathes in and out harshly.

Once Hook stops talking, his shoulders slumping and his head ducked down in shame, Taz reaches up and curls his fingers around Hook's neck, squeezing. "You listen to me, son," he says tensely. "I have loved you from the moment your mother told me she was pregnant with you. I have been proud of you from your first breath. I always have been and I always will be. You understand me?"

Hook stares up at him, nodding weakly. "I do," he says quietly.

"Your old man has a really iffy sense of humor," Taz says, rubbing slow circles against Hook's skin. "You can ask anyone, kiddo." He sighs. "I should've known to talk to you about it the night I said it, but I thought you knew I was only joking. Still, not a very good joke for your father to make. Especially in this business, when everything is used so easily against us. Isn't it?" He continues to massage the back of Hook's neck, smiling sadly as his son nods.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he says quietly.

"No, Tyler, I'm the one who's sorry," Taz says, shaking his head. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"But, I feel like I do," Hook mumbles. "I should've known better than to listen to Christian. I should've known better."

"Kid, we know how good he is at digging into everyone's vulnerabilities. I don't want you feeling guilty about this. If I hadn't have made that fucking joke, he probably wouldn't have found a way in."

Hook sniffs, eyes roving around restlessly. "Is Mom ok?"

"She's fine," Taz says. "You know her. Worried about you of course, but as soon as we get you home, you know she's going to keep herself busy in making sure you're fed and well-rested and all of those other Mom things that she's so good at. Right?"

Hook smiles weakly. "Yeah."

Orange steps forward. "I have a match coming up, guys," he says. "I have to go."

Hook turns towards him, eyes wide. "Will I see you later?"

Orange smiles. "Of course you will." He finds his hand and squeezes it. "I'll walk you backstage, alright?"

"Alright," Hook says, looking around worriedly. "Is Christian...?"

"They're gone," Taz says. "Probably still trying to walk straight after that groin shot."

Orange bites back a laugh and wraps an arm around Hook. "C'mon, handsome," he says softly. "Let's get out of here."

Hook nods, leaning into him. "Alright," he says.

"Take good care of my son, Orange," Taz says.

"I will," Orange says, nodding at him before guiding Hook around the ring towards the ramp. "Are you ok?"

"I think so," Hook murmurs. "I'm really going home?"

"Yes," Orange says, thinking about their untouched bed, the lifeless apartment, how empty everything's felt since that unfortunate Saturday. "Yes, you are."

Hook smiles, ducking his head as they push their way through the curtain. "Good," he mumbles.

"My thoughts exactly," Orange says, making sure they're out of sight of the crowd before pressing a quick kiss to Hook's lips, watching his smile grow as he walks him back towards the locker rooms, knowing that time is getting away from him in getting ready for the upcoming tag match but in no hurry to be separated yet again from Hook.

He's going to be a little late and Trent will just have to understand.

-x

The Patriarchy as a whole disappears following Christian's loss. No one trusts that it's permanent, but they all breathe a little easier, especially Hook. He's been wracked with guilt ever since that night, going out of his way to try to do things for his parents and Orange, even though they insist he doesn't need to, that everything's fine. That they're fine.

"I know," Hook says, holding out yet another bag from Orange's favorite diner a few blocks from where they live. "I know you say I need to just relax, that everything's fine, but I... I'm still guilty. So just let me do things for you sometimes, alright?"

Orange sighs and takes the bag from him. "Sometimes, Hook, fine," he says, digging through the bag and dividing its contents up as evenly as he can so Hook will eat with him. If he doesn't, Hook will just sit and watch him and make Orange feel bad. "But I will keep reminding you that I'm not mad at you, I've never been mad at you. I was just worried that something bad would happen while Christian had all of the control."

Hook nods. "Ok," he says softly. "I get that. But..." He fiddles with his hoodie strings, sighing. "To be honest, you may not be, and my parents may not be, but I'm angry at myself. I... I was supposed to be smarter than this, could see through people, know when they had agendas. But Christian just... broke through all of my defenses, and... I don't know." He scrubs at his face. "Especially after everything that happened with Jack. I'm just... disappointed in myself."

Orange puts the food aside and leans over, finding Hook's hand and squeezing gently. "Listen to me. He's a master manipulator, ok? How many people have believed and trusted in him, just to immediately regret it? I'm proud of you that you can keep yourself safe, but these things happen sometimes and it's up to all of us to keep an eye out for each other. To make sure that we're all safe from people like Christian. You know?"

Hook nods, searching his face. "I also want to apologize again for pushing you about the International title. It wasn't... I shouldn't have said anything, I just... I think Christian was already worming his way in, and I wasn't thinking straight. You know ordinarily I would've never..."

Orange nods, rubbing a thumb briskly over Hook's knuckles. "I know. It's ok, I was never mad about it. I understand how weird it must've looked, for me to go from focusing on that title nearly 100% to dropping to 0% the instance I lost it again." He sighs. "I don't blame you for having questions. I sometimes didn't understand it myself, it felt like a physical loss, waking up and realizing the belt wasn't there anymore, but it also felt like I didn't deserve to fight for it anymore." A distant look crosses his face and he sighs. "But I realize now that it's not that bad, especially when you were gone and I kept waking up actually alone, without knowing what was happening to you or if you were going to be ok. That was the true hell I found myself in."

Hook exhales shakily. "I felt that too," he admits. "Waking up in the bedroom Christian made me share with Nick, I missed you so bad."

Orange's lips twitch up. "I still can't believe he really tried to push you two to be brothers."

"Me neither," Hook mumbles. "It was awful. He's so annoying. Never shuts up."

Orange huffs a laugh and wraps an arm around Hook, holding him close and rubbing up and down his back slowly, comfortingly. "You're home," he says into Hook's hair. "You're safe. We all love you. How's that sound?"

"Perfect," he sighs, nuzzling into Orange. "I love you too."

Orange smiles, kissing his forehead. "Now come on. Let's eat."

Hook smiles, slowly pulling away. "Yeah, ok," he agrees.

Orange watches as Hook picks his way through the food, a fond look on his face. Some day, Christian'll return and Orange and Taz will have to keep an eye on things, make sure Hook won't be vulnerable to his manipulations ever again, but for now. For now, they've begun to put all of that behind them. Things are going to be ok.