Max sighs, making his way slowly through the hotel lobby. He's sore, tired, and although he'd won, he's not sure how he's going to be able to face what's waiting for him at the top of the elevator. He lifts his arm carefully, testing out its range, and grimaces. As painful as the match against Rush had been, this match had somehow tested him more. His arm feels about as weak as it had months back, and he's panicked. Ice had helped, briefly, back at the arena, and he thinks it's time to ice it again, but he dreads it because that'll be a tell he doesn't necessarily want to give.

He exhales and squares his shoulders, heading for the elevator. He can't just stand in the lobby all night, after all. He swipes the access card for the penthouse and tries to school his features into a calm smile, holding his arms carefully at his sides. It sends pain up his elbow, but he chooses to ignore it.

His careful planning, however, fails as soon as he gets off of the elevator and is greeted by Adam's pensive frown, his eyes wandering around Max's body, resting on his arm. "How bad is it?" he asks, reaching out and ghosting his fingers over Max's sleeve.

"What do you mean?" Max says with a shallow grin. "I've never felt better. I won my first PPV match back, why would anything be wrong?"

Too far, Max knows he's gone a little too deeply into the EVERYTHING IS GREAT shtick, especially when Adam frowns at him, eyes squinting a little. "Get over here," he says tensely, motioning to the bed. "Lay down. I'm already set up for you."

Max grins lecherously, still trying to ignore the obvious not-fun tension between them. "Oh yeah, you gonna help me celebrate tonight, baybay?"

Adam rolls his eyes and presses his hands to his hips, staring Max down until he sinks onto the bed, staring up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes. "I saw how you were holding your arm, you're not fooling anyone, Maxwell. Get comfortable, you're not going anywhere for awhile."

"Fuck," Max mumbles, but follows Adam's instructions, settling down against the pillows and watching as Adam collects a couple of ice packs from the freezer. "You had this all set up?" he asks, tipping his head back and sighing as Adam presses the ice to his arm.

"Of course I did," Adam says, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder. "I hate seeing you in pain, Max."

Max grimaces. "Dunno what happened," he mumbles. "It felt better at the arena, but then started seizing up again on the way here. I'll go see my rehab specialist in the morning."

"Good." Adam leans ni and kisses him. "It won't always be like this, Max."

"Fuck, I hope not." He holds out his good arm towards Adam, and Adam's eyes soften as he lays down next to Max and cuddles in close, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Bet you're glad I convinced you to get a hotel room near the arena instead of having to drive all the way back home, huh?" Adam asks, a bit of smugness in his voice.

Max groans. "Yeah, yeah, Adam. You always know best, I know, I know."

Adam chuckles and presses a kiss to Max's shoulder. "It's about time you admit it," he teases.

Max hums. His shoulder is walking the thin line between being painful and numbed by the ice, and he kind of hates it, but having Adam laying next to him, distracting him with repetitive strokes of his fingers against his abs help to distract him. "Love you," he says, pressing a kiss into Adam's hair.

Adam smiles. "Love you too," he says quietly, nuzzling into Max's side. "And I'm coming with you to the rehab specialist tomorrow."

Max chuckles mirthlessly, squeezing him. "Of course you are."

"Gotta make sure you're going to be ok," Adam teases him. "Someone has to, after all."

"I feel that's a dig at me for not taking good care of myself, or some shit."

Adam chuckles and kisses him. "Right in one, as always, Max."

Max rolls his eyes, tangles his fingers in Adam's hair and continues kissing him, relieved that it both keeps Adam from worrying and is a good distraction from the numbing cold overwhelming his arm.