Breaking Apart

by corneroffandom

The road leading from All In to All Out is far from smooth.

Sunday is a busy, tiring day. Successful, though. After he defeats Jericho, Hook sits backstage and watches the rest of the show, still holding onto the FTW title, still in some awe that after all of these months he'd succeeded in reclaiming the title. And had outplayed Jericho when it came to his eye. He'd fought three guys and won. It's overwhelming.

Once the show ends, he sits in on the media scrum briefly, answering a couple of questions. It's his first time really doing a media scrum, and he's not expecting much, especially considering some of the stories he's heard. Despite that, it somehow goes worse than he expects, the second question asked to him leaving his brain buzzing in disbelief, and if Tony Khan hadn't spoke up, he's not sure what he would've said, if he could've spoke through the tension seizing his throat. It's a relief when they let him go after a quick third question and he does hug Tony and Renee before leaving, hands tight around the FTW title.

He's just made it out of sight of the people seated around the room and slumps against the wall, biting his lower lip when he hears his father's familiar footsteps and looks back up, trying to look calmer than he feels, a little more put together than he feels.

"Hey, kid, we need to talk," Taz tells him, squeezing his shoulder. "C'mon."

Hook nods, not sure he likes the look on his father's face. After everything earlier, he'd thought things were going to be ok, but now he doubts it, the words said in the scrub repeatedly taunting him as he follows Taz to a quiet corner so they can talk. "What's wrong?" he asks, adjusting his grip on the FTW title, frowning harder when Taz's eyes rest on the belt, a conflicted look on his face. "Dad?"

Taz sighs and looks up at him. "I think it may be time for a change, son."

More words that haunt Hook for a long time after, his chest feeling strangely tight once Taz claps him on the shoulder and tells him to go get some sleep before the flight in the morning. He makes it back to his hotel room and drops back against the door, it thudding shut with his weight. He takes a breath, wanting nothing more than to talk to Orange right now, try to sort out his own feelings about what Taz and he's just discussed when he looks up to find the room before him empty, dark.

He blinks and pushes away from the door, frowning. "Orange?" he calls out. "...Are you here?" It feels silly to even bother asking, the room obviously empty. He exhales, eyes flickering around as he collects his shine kit, carefully running his fingers over the FTW's plates before turning to sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to scrub off the glue still sticking to the title where his dad's name is thanks to that ugly ass sticker Jericho had tarnished the belt with the last few months. He blows his hair out of his eyes, focusing on the title belt while he waits for Orange to come back.

He's not sure how much time has passed, his eyes growing heavier the later it gets, his movements growing more sluggish until he almost drops the title. Giving up, he sets it gently onto the table by the bed and sighs. He's slumping, dozing off where he sits, when finally he hears a beep at the door and jerks back awake, rubbing at his eyes and rolling some of the stiffness out of his shoulders. When Orange finally enters, he stands up. "Hey."

Orange casts a quick glance his way before dropping his bag by the wall. "Hey," he responds, stepping closer to the bed. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

Hook pauses, looking him over. "I, uh. Are you ok? You just kinda... bailed after the gauntlet."

Orange shrugs, turning to empty his pockets on the dresser across from the bed. "Yeah, well," he sighs, staring down at his wallet, change and other small things he'd accumulated since leaving Wembley. "I just wanted some time to myself. Try to clear my head." He takes his sunglasses off and drops them down next to the rest.

"Ok," Hook says slowly, a weird feeling nagging at him the longer that Orange doesn't turn to face him. "I'm glad you're back. Uh, there's something I wanted to talk to you about, but I'm pretty tired and you look like you could use some sleep too, so it can wait."

Orange doesn't really confirm or deny this, turning to face Hook, his gaze moving past him to rest on the FTW title, still glinting even in the dimly lit room. "Don't you ever get tired of it?" he asks.

Hook stares at Orange, his brows furrowing, thrown off-kilter. Uncertain what to think of how he's standing, the tone of his voice. "Tired of what?"

"Being nothing more than a Taz tribute act," Orange says, finally looking at Hook for the first time since walking into the room. His face is expressionless in a way Hook's never seen it, his eyes dark, lips thin. "You've spent so much time chasing after this title belt, wasting what could be the most pivotal years of your career and for what, exactly?"

Hook stares at him, lips parted slightly, brows furrowed. He's struck speechless, unable to even think of a way to respond. He's heard similar shit before, of course, but from people who were actively trying to piss him off, knock him off his game before matches. This? From Orange? Hours after he'd fought hard enough to finally defeat Jericho, Big Bill and Bryan Keith and regain the title belt that meant so much to him? It makes no sense.

Orange plows on through, not even seeming to notice the look on Hook's face- or caring- as he continues. "Your moveset was based off of his, your name was inspired by him, you just used his music for your entrance. Is there anything you can think of doing that doesn't have to do with him? At all?"
Hook feels frozen in place, unable to look away from the coldness in Orange's gaze.

"It's disappointing," Orange says. "You could be so much more if you ever considered doing something for yourself for once. Something different. Something that didn't have to do with Taz. Aren't you sick of being so damn limited by what- who- came before you?"

Orange has just opened his mouth to say... more, who knows what exactly, when Hook's face shifts and his lips purse shut, his eyes wet and restless as he blinks hard, finally coming back to himself. All he can hear is static, his chest aching as he turns and lifts up the FTW title, holding it close as he walks around Orange, careful not to brush against him as he goes.

He skirts around Orange's bag and collects his own, leaving the hotel room as quickly as he can. His head is spinning, he can barely breathe, but he remembers Taz's room number from when Hook helped him carry his luggage up, and he heads there on autopilot, vision blurry with barely restrained tears as he stands in the elevator and waits for it to take him to the right floor. He stumbles a little getting out of it, ignoring the murmur of the people who'd been around- coworkers? random fans? who knows- but catches himself and continues down the hall until he sees 506.

Taz answers pretty quickly, considering the hour, and frowns at his son, reaching out for him. "Tyler-" he starts to say.

"Dad," Hook forces out through teeth gritted hard the entire way here to keep from screaming, white knuckling the straps of the FTW title so tightly he's sure he'll warp it before he can find the strength to release it. "I need to go home right now. New York. Please. Get me the next flight outta here."

Taz's brows furrow as he searches Hook's face. "Alright, come on," he says, guiding his son into the hotel room with a solid hand between his shoulder blades.

-x

It's no exaggeration to say that Orange Cassidy hasn't been in a good headspace in a long time. Since Trent betrayed him... or since the first time he lost the International title, however far back you want to go. It all blurs together, really. The only lifeline he'd had this entire time was Hook, but it's a tentative grasp because he's started to think maybe he clings too hard. Maybe that's what made Trent and Kris both grow to hate him, want him out of their lives. Maybe that's what cost him the title he'd bled, sweat and fought so hard for for so long.

Not that Hook has ever said anything that would suggest he feels like that, even with how quickly they had gone from sharing the ring to sharing a life together, so smoothly that sometimes even Orange can't pinpoint the exact moment he realized he wanted more, wanted Hook in more places than just waiting in the corner of the ring for his tag.

The Conglomeration had helped fill the void the Best Friends had left, a little, yeah, but there's a lot of past drama that he only understands in vague strokes. Roderick Strong keeps lurking around, seemingly determined to 'reclaim' his best friend, and Orange wants to trust that history won't repeat itself, that he can trust Kyle and Mark, but he still feels like he's walking a tightrope of not wanting to invest too much but also needing something to hold onto so the entire weight of his dependence doesn't fall only on Hook's shoulders, especially with everything he's been going through between recovery and fighting to regain the FTW title over the summer.

It's... weird, looking back on it later, seeing all the growing fractures in his psyche, the way the stress slowly built up. Leading to smaller changes, bigger changes, and everything in between. His theme music, his clothes, the way he handles his relationships. How he had reacted to gaining #1 in the gauntlet match at All In. Yes, it gave him a definite spot in the match, wouldn't keep him out of it should the match end quickly, but also starting at #1 gave him an immediate handicap because it meant he was going to be in from the very beginning, and he knew that was not a good thing because he'd always be the most beat up in the match. More so than usual, anyway.

In the end, none of the Conglomeration had won and it adds to his doubts, his self-disgust. He'd had the best opportunity out of all of them to try to end it quickly and he'd failed. Mark had gone over to check on Kyle, and Orange... Orange had left. Had skipped medical, grabbed his things, and bailed. Walked around the London streets until he realized it was dark out, so late that if he didn't try to get some sleep soon, he'd be a mess when trying to make his way through the airport back to the States.

But as he tries to navigate his way back to the hotel, his wayward thoughts lead him to thinking again about Hook. Poor guy, always so supportive of him through his title losses, his failed friendships, and everything in between. Orange really doesn't think he deserves him sometimes, especially when Orange wasn't even there for him in the immediate aftermath of getting a fireball to the face by Jericho, had watched from home as his boyfriend's life could've changed irrequivocally in one moment. He'd tried to make it up to him by being there for him as much as possible while he'd recovered, but it really feels like he'd only managed the bare minimum while Hook suffered physically and mentally.

It hits him unexpectedly, he's just returned to their hotel room to find Hook waiting for him, the FTW title glinting behind him, clearly freshly polished. Hook saying something about wanting to talk to him in the morning unfurls something awful and ugly deep in his chest, and the flood of emotions he'd tried to ignore while wandering the London streets well up anew and he can barely think straight as he looks into Hook's worried eyes. Everything's spiraling, he can just tell he's losing everything, he hates himself for putting so much pressure on Hook, expecting so much, and he's not focusing on anything as he talks, barely aware of what he's saying, it all just adding to the noise in his head.

It's not until a faint sound comes from Hook that Orange freezes mid-sentence, blinking back to awareness. He stares as Hook turns, collecting the FTW title from where it's resting on the table behind him, and takes a wide berth around Orange. There's a couple of muffled noises behind him before Orange hears the door open and slam shut. He breathes raggedly for a few moments before turning slowly, dreading what he knows he's about to see.

The room is empty. Hook's things are gone. Hook is gone.

Worse than that, the hotel key that Hook had claimed as his own at check in is laying next to Orange's wallet, meaning he has no intention on returning. He blinks at it, sinking down onto the bed. Tangling his fingers in his hair. "Fuck," he breathes, remembering more and more of what exactly he'd said, the cold cruelty behind the words. Insulting Hook, his work ethic, the bond he has with Taz. His darkest impulses brought on by loss after loss after loss leading to this. To pushing away the one last purely good thing he has left. "What did I do?"

As tempting as it is to go right now and find Hook, try to make things right, Orange isn't sure he can. His thoughts are scattered, impossible to grasp, the expression on Hook's face- the sad, hurt look in his eyes- haunting him as he tries to think seriously about what just happened.

After what feels like an unending, broken night spent staring at the four walls surrounding him, Orange unable to find any kind of rest, Monday dawns dull and chilly, matching Orange's mood. He stands at the window and stares out over the city before exhaling shakily and collecting his things, heading for the elevator. He stares at himself in the reflective silver of the door, wincing at the sickly pale tone of his skin which only emphasizes the dark circles under his eyes. He looks like hell, his clothes unchanged from the night before, wrinkled and loose after hours of restless pacing.

Room 506 comes up too quickly and Orange bites his lip, gaze flickering around nervously. He finally reaches out and knocks tentatively, holding his breath as he waits for an answer. He's about to reach out and knock again when the door is forced open, Taz staring coolly at him. Orange swallows and looks back at him, trying to find words. The strength to speak. Something.

"The fuck you doing here?" Taz finally asks, his dark eyes fixed on Orange's face with a glower Orange has never had directed at him before. For the first time since meeting him, Orange understands why the man was such a feared person during his wrestling career.

"I... I screwed up last night," Orange finally forces out through a tight throat, emotions threatening to choke him. "I wanted to talk to Hook, to- to apologize. Please-"
"He's not here," Taz says, his expression not wavering. When Orange stares at him, desperate, confused, Taz rolls his eyes and steps out into the hallway, making it clear that Orange isn't welcome in his hotel room. "My son came to me late last night, begging me to find him a red eye home. So I did. He's probably half-way back to New York by now."

Orange's lips part as he tries to make sense of this. "He... he's gone? He..."

"He was heartbroken and just wanted to go home," Taz says coldly. "So I made it happen." He looks Orange up and down as he struggles with this news, the realization that it's his fault, and Taz scoffs. "This whole time," he says. "I always talked up what a great guy you were. Every time, without fail. 'Good guy, that Orange Cassidy'. Cause I thought you were. But that? That bullshit last night?" He shakes his head. "As if Hook hasn't been through enough shit this weekend."

Orange looks shattered, breathing roughly as he stares into Taz's cold eyes. "I know, I- I had shit timing," he says brokenly. "The crowd during Collision, the- the match with Jericho, all of it, but-"

Taz scoffs, then frowns at him when Orange looks even more lost. "You don't even know what happened after All In, do you?"

"I- I left," he admits through numb lips. "I... after the gauntlet match, I was..." He swallows, desperately searching Taz's face. He figured that Hook beat Jericho, and the rest of his night had been spent marinating in the success of the moment, at least until Orange returned and destroyed everything. "What happened?"

Taz flicks his gaze to the side before sighing out a loud frustrated exhale, reaching into his pocket and digging out his phone. Orange watches uncomfortably as Taz swipes through various things until finally he brings up a video of the press scrum that followed the PPV and holds the device out towards Orange, volume up loud enough for him to hear it.

Orange watches as Hook takes a seat next to Tony, his lips parting in surprise. "He's never done one of these before," he murmurs.

"Just listen," Taz grumbles so Orange falls quiet, staring at Hook's face with growing trepidation.

The first question is fine, Hook answers it in his usual style- Orange smiles bittersweetly- and they move on. But the second question dances right over being ill thought out and straight into disrespectful, reminds Orange all over again of just how badly he fucked up the night before, and gives yet another reason for the memory of the look on Hook's face to haunt him. Hook is understandably frozen after the person calls the FTW title a joke, suggests it was nothing more than a prank on those involved in winning and defending it, and Orange can't look away from him as he leans forward once Tony Khan finishes speaking to talk shortly about how, before he'd even officially worked for AEW, he himself had the FTW title flown out to be the focal point of his father's new stable.

Orange feels even worse as Taz pockets his phone, shaking his head. "The crowd," Taz says, Orange's guilty eyes lifting to stare at him. "The press. They coulda done and said worse than they did, and Hook would've bounced back 'cause he's a tough dude, and that's just how he is. But you get the guy he loves looking him in the eye and telling him what a disappointment he is at what should've been the happiest moment at this stage of his career, and, well." Taz stares at Orange. "I don't know what you expected to happen."

All Orange can do is watch, breathless and sick with disgust at himself, as Taz walks back inside of his hotel room and leaves Orange standing there, flinching as the door slams shut, an eerie echo of the night before. "Fuck," he breathes out before turning and slowly heading for the elevator again.

Orange barely remembers making it to the airport, nor the flight back to New York itself. He spends the time lost in thought, trying to determine what happened, why he reacted the way he did the night before, why he said the things he did. What he could possibly try to say to Hook the next time he sees him. If it's worth even trying to fix things.

After an anxiety ridden drive from the airport back to their apartment once he escapes the luggage carousel, he stands outside of the building and looks up towards their window, his hands tense, throat tight once more. "Fuck," he breathes, all that he's potentially lost right before him. Swallowing hard, he walks into the building and heads up to their floor.

Walking into the apartment is difficult, he stands outside of their locked door for long, tense moments, staring at it. Reaching out, he rests his hand against the cool wood and just tries to breathe, biting his lower lip. "Ok," he sighs. "Come on." Unlocking the door with shaking hands, he pushes it open and stares into the emptiness of the entrance leading into their living room. Stepping inside, he pushes the door shut and exhales. "Hook?" he calls out weakly, blinking when there's no sound whatsoever in response. "Hook?"

Still nothing and he frowns, wandering through the rooms. All empty, all untouched. He returns to the living room and sinks back against the wall, breathing ragged, trembling hard. "Oh, fuck," he exhales, digging his hands into his hair as he tries not to freak out. By the time he comes back to himself, the apartment is a lot darker than it was when he first walked in and he looks at the clock, blinking a few times until the numbers start to make sense to him. "Shit," he breathes, pressing his knuckles to his eyes.

"He was heartbroken and he wanted to go home," Taz's voice echoes back to him. Home. Of course.

Orange drops his head back against the wall, groaning softly. It's too late to go to the Senerchias to find him without making them all hate him more. Orange sinks down to the floor and stares absently at the signs of their life together sprawled before him- one of Hook's hoodies dropped unceremoniously on the couch, a folded up bag of chips on the coffee table. Taz's action figure staring down at him from the shelf in the corner.

As empty and hopeless as the living room feels, he just knows their bedroom would feel worse and he can't face it right now so he crawls over to the couch and sinks into the cushions, breathing out shakily as he stretches his aching, exhausted body out over it, kicking his shoes off. He freezes when his toes press against the thick fabric of Hook's hoodie and he shivers, reaching out for it. It's warm and it smells like Hook's cologne and he tucks himself into it, curling up in a miserable little ball right there, staring out listlessly at the clock as time slowly ticks away.

He's not really sure when he dozes off, or how much sleep he actually gets, but he wakes up to the sun glinting in his eyes and groans, lifting the blanket to cover his face... just to remember with a shock when a black sleeve smacks against his forehead. He's not in bed, this isn't a blanket, and... He sits up quickly and looks around the living room, realizing it's just past 9 AM. "Shit," he mumbles, scrubbing at his face.

He goes through the motions quickly- haphazardly washes up in the bathroom, even brushing his teeth quickly, hurries through changing his clothes and then grabs his keys and wallet and rushes back out of the apartment. The drive over to the Senerchias' apartment is tense, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as he makes it slowly through mid-morning traffic, and finally he finds himself in front of their door.

He stands there for a long, long time, trying to find the strength just to lift his hand and knock. This somehow feels so much harder than when they were still in London and he was in front of Taz's hotel room, and thought maybe he still had a chance. Now time has passed, his doubts and insecurities have grown, and he's not sure what to do to fix things. If he felt like he had to wait forever back at the hotel, the time stretches out unendingly now and his breathing staggers when he finally hears the locks being released.

Taz glares out at him, looking as displeased with him as he did back in London, if not more, and Orange exhales. "Taz-"
"You're damned lucky the Mrs is out running errands," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering even harsher at Orange as he holds the door open with his shoulder. "What do you want now?"

Orange flounders for a moment, eyes darting around. "Is... is he ok?"

"No," Taz says grimly. "He's not. He's sleeping right now. At least I hope he is." Taz frowns harsher. "He was exhausted, jetlag and everything else really fucked with him. Wife had to give him some of her sleep meds just to try to knock him out. It kicked in a couple of hours ago. You wasted a trip, you're not seeing him."

Orange watches helplessly as Taz turns, about to slam the door in his face again, but- He lunges forward and blocks the door with his arm. "No, Taz, please, wait-" he pleads, finally finding his words in a burst of broken desperation. "I know I fucked up, I know I don't deserve to see him, but I just... I need him to know how sorry I am. Please."

"Like I said, he's asleep," Taz says coldly. "I'm not letting you wake him up."

"I don't want to wake him up," Orange says desperately. "Please just let me sit with him. Please?"

Taz stares at him, sighing.

Hook's bedroom is shadowy. It's a bit of a mess, and Orange steps quietly around the luggage, the clothes and everything else scattered across the floor. He makes it over to the chair pulled out from Hook's desk and slumps down in it before turning his attention onto the bed.

It's dark enough that it's not easy to see, but he can hear breathing from the bed, uneven, heavy exhales, and Orange can tell that between the medicine and the jetlag and everything else, Hook's sleep is far from restful. He wants to go comfort him so badly, but he'd promised Taz he wouldn't wake Hook up, so he sits and stares until his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the late morning sun creeping around the edges of the drapes and he can make out a little more of his surroundings.

His attention is taken fully, however, when Hook makes a soft, distressed noise, rolling over and taking most of the sheets with him, tangled up in them so thoroughly that Orange can't see a lot of his face even with him now turned to face the side Orange is sitting on. He exhales slowly, still fighting not to move and risk waking Hook up. It gets harder to stay still when Hook continues to toss and turn, periodically making sad little noises in his sleep.

With a sharp, rough gasp, Hook sits up suddenly and Orange bites his lip, not needing the light to know the lost, groggy look on his face as he sits in the middle of a mess of sheets and pants roughly, hair covering his face as he struggles to regain control of his breathing, his panic slowly subsiding. He groans and sluggishly frees himself of the bedding before twisting, reaching for the lamp to his right. Minutes pass by as he sits there, hair still blocking his face from Orange's view, fists twisted into the sweatpants he's wearing.

Orange's chest aches at the soft little sniffling sounds coming from the bed and he thinks Hook is crying quietly, but he can't move to find out, frozen in his seat, watching, waiting to be noticed. Finally with one last sniff, Hook sits up and brushes at his face before shaking his hair back, and-

He turns sharply, looking at Orange with his lips parted, eyes wide, his face pale. "Wha- what are you doing here?" he asks, voice thick with sleep or tears or both. "How long have you been sitting there? What the fuck?"

"I don't know, maybe close to an hour," Orange admits, glancing over at the clock next to Hook's bed. "I, uh." He runs his hand anxiously through his hair before looking back at Hook. "I wanted to try to explain Sunday."

Hook lets out the most painful sound Orange has ever heard out of him, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "I think you said all you really needed to say, don't you?" he asks, slowly getting to his feet and picking up a shirt from the floor before pulling it on. They both notice at the same time that it's one of Orange's merch shirts, but neither say anything as Hook slowly sinks back down on the bed, his head bowed. He looks more defeated than Orange has ever seen him.

"No," Orange says after a few quiet, tense moments. "No, uh. I... you deserve an explanation." Hook doesn't say anything, still staring at his hands, and Orange shifts forward, wishing he could see his face as he speaks. "I..." He sighs. "I haven't been doing well mentally for a long time," he says slowly. "I've had time to reflect on myself and I've come to realize I'm a very clingy person. I clung to the International title, I clung to the Best Friends, and I lost all of them."

Hook shifts a little and looks up, quietly encouraging him to continue.

"I'm trying to change. I don't... I don't want to continue doing what I did before that made Trent and Kris turn on me," he says. "But every day it just feels worse and worse. Like I'm holding my breath for the Conglomeration to just crumble like the Best Friends did. And it's... it's been... even more of a mess in my head lately. The Undisputed Kingdom are always around, and I..."

"And you," Hook prompts quietly.

"I lost. We all lost," Orange says with a sigh. "And it all just felt so meaningless. The match against Roddy and Kyle for the #1 spot in the gauntlet, all of the tension and uncertainty leading up to All In. Just everything, wasted. And I could picture Kyle taking those losses and deciding that he didn't want to be part of the Conglomeration anymore and choose to partner back up with Roddy, or Mark realizing he's the ROH world champion and doesn't need any of this. I guess something just snapped in me and I felt like none of it was salvageable. Or I didn't deserve for them to be."

Hook is looking at him out of the corner of his eye, waiting patiently.

"I don't even know what I was thinking, exactly, when I returned to the hotel room," he says quietly. "You said you had something to talk about that was important, and with the mindset I was in at that time, it just seemed like you were putting off the inevitable. I felt like I had to protect myself from it all happening again, so I... went with the first thing I thought of to say to push you away."

"You.. you thought I wanted to break up with you?" Hook asks, turning to look directly at him for the first time since he's woke up, a wounded look in his dark eyes.

"I... yeah, I mean, it's what flashed through my mind," Orange says. "I'm realizing I was wrong, but I... I still don't know what you wanted to talk about..."
Hook trembles and presses his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle a distressed sound as he shakes his head. "Did you... uh. After All In..."

Orange exhales. "Your dad showed me the press scrum," he prompts carefully, watching as Hook's shoulders slump even further. "I... I didn't know that happened. I was... I left. I was walking the streets of London for hours after the gauntlet match. I had no idea. Hook, I'm so sorry."

Hook nods, staring down at his hands. "I, uh. It was a hell of a 24 hour period," he says quietly. "First match back from what could've been a permanently life-altering injury and the crowd pretty much boos me out of the building. Defeat Jericho and get my title back, just for press to call the very title that I nearly got blinded over a joke and act like it's an insult to everyone who's held it. Then the- the... things you said." He flicks his gaze up to Orange. "I, uh. I had to get out of there. I had to leave."

Orange nods, watching him. "I don't blame you."

"I got off the airplane and went back to our apartment," Hook says. "But it... everything felt... wrong, it was too quiet and I just felt sick. I couldn't stay there. So I called an uber and came here. But I was too restless to even try laying down, and my mom didn't know what to do for me." He shakes his head and closes his eyes, breathing roughly as he leans forward, pressing his face into the blankets pooling around him.

Orange stands and gingerly rests a hand between Hook's shoulderblades, feeling the faint trembling down his spine. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I can't say it enough."

Hook looks miserable, pale and shaky, when he finally sits back up. "I wanna go home," he mumbles, wiping at his face.

Orange pauses, staring into Hook's face. "You do?"

"Yeah," he exhales. "Please, Orange. Can we go home?"

Orange bites his lip, overwhelmed. "Yeah," he says softly. "We can go home."

-x

Hook stands in the doorway of their apartment, tapping his fingers absently against the plates of the FTW title as he casts tired eyes over the living room. He exhales and glances towards Orange.

"Are you ok?" Orange asks quietly, watching as Hook takes a couple of steps further into the apartment.

"Yeah," he says, swallowing. "Um. I'm really tired still, though, so I... I think I'm going to go get some more sleep." He falters, his eyes flicking over to Orange, then away. "I know we still have things to talk about, but I just... I, uh. I think we need to take things slow, you know? I'm going to sleep in the guest room. It's... not permanent, just for a little while. Give us some time to work through things."

Orange exhales, then stops Hook with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Hang on," he says. "I'll take the guest room, you stay in our bedroom."

"But-" Hook starts to protest with a frown.

"No, I insist," Orange says, rubbing his shoulder. "If you need anything, you know where I'll be at."

Hook exhales, glancing up at him. "Alright," he says softly. "If you're sure."

"I am." Orange smiles wearily as Hook nods and heads to the left, down the hall to their bedroom. He watches him go, trying not to feel too lost as Hook closes the door behind him. "Temporary," he reminds himself. "Just for a little while." He drops down on the couch and buries his face in his hands. "It'll be ok."

Once he stops overthinking everything quite so hard, Orange eases back and leans into the cushions, turning the TV on low just for something to listen to while Hook hopefully sleeps off the lingering affects of whatever his mom had given him earlier. He's not sure what exactly he lands on, just that it's enough to keep him awake and watching as the afternoon slowly drifts away, the room a lot darker when his phone goes off with its text sound.

He groans and rolls his head towards where he'd dropped it on the coffee table before he'd settled in, reaching out for it. There's a text from Tony Khan and he thumbs in his code, noticing the time. He's thinking about ordering food for himself and Hook when he focuses on the body of the text itself.

Hello, I would like to have an all-star eight man match of The Learning Tree and Roderick Strong vs The Conglomeration and HOOK tomorrow night on Dynamite! How does this sound to everyone?

Orange stares at it, scrubbing at his face. Tony always did have interesting timing. He sighs and drops his head back, unsure how to respond. If Hook would even want to partner up with him right now, considering how tenuous things still feel.

The movie he's half-watching has just ended, the credits sluggishly moving off of the screen, when Orange hears their bedroom door open and Hook's footsteps sleepily head his way. His hair is messy, curling around his neck in a tangled sweep, and he looks achingly young as he squints at Orange, phone held tightly in hand. "You get the text message from TK too?" he mumbles, brushing at his eyes.

"I did," Orange says. "What do you think?"

Hook exhales and sinks down into the chair across from Orange, running his hand through his hair. He huffs, catching a couple of tangles, and grimaces. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Orange blinks. "Huh?"

Hook exhales slowly, his gaze restlessly wandering the room before reluctantly settling back on Orange's face. "Would you even want to partner with me right now?"

"Wha-" Orange blinks. "Yes," he says emphatically. "Definitely. Always. Why wouldn't I?" He grits his teeth as Hook's face falls, his lips parting uncertainly. "No. Don't answer that." He moves to sit on the table in front of Hook, his hands hovering over Hook's until he nods slowly, their fingers lacing together as easily as ever. "Listen to me. You are a great wrestler, alright? And a great partner. In and out of the ring. Me, the other guys in the Conglomeration, we would be lucky to partner with you. Trust me. Kyle and Mark right now are bouncing texts back and forth, growing more and more boisterous with each one."

"You sure?" Hook asks, eyes wide as he searches Orange's face. "I... I could find a replacement to suggest to Tony, Shibata, or-"

"I don't want a replacement," Orange tells him, squeezing his hands. "I just want you."

Hook swallows hard, his eyes wet as he stares back at Orange. "Ok," he says faintly. "If you change your mind-"

"I won't." Orange lifts Hook's hands and presses a lingering kiss to them. "Now, let's go text TK and let him know, and what do you say we order something for supper? Are you hungry?"

Hook exhales, absently rubbing his thumbs over Orange's palm. "Yeah," he says slowly. "I... I could eat."

Orange smiles at him. "Great."

-x

Orange blinks as he wakes up, disoriented and shaky. It takes him a minute to recognize the guest bedroom and he exhales, slowly sitting up. "Ugh," he groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he gets up, heads for the bathroom. Once finished in there, he walks into the kitchen, pausing upon finding Hook slumped in a chair, blinking sluggishly at his phone. "Hey."

Hook looks up, his face pale and tired. "Hey."

Orange hesitates and goes to the fridge, pouring two glasses of orange juice and setting one in front of Hook. "How did you sleep?"

"Not great," he sighs. "I slept too much in the afternoon, and the bed was cold and empty." He glances up, then back down. "I know I have no right to complain about this to you right now, it was my choice, but..."

Orange shakes his head, and squeezes Hook's shoulder. "It's fine," he says softly. "I understand."

"At least one of us does," Hook mumbles, lifting the juice and taking a slow sip. "Ugh." He puts it down and leans back, pressing into Orange's side. "Sorry I didn't get breakfast, I just..."

"It's fine." Orange lazily runs his fingers through Hook's hair, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Don't worry. We can get something on the way to the airport."

"Ok." Hook closes his eyes and drifts against Orange's hip for a minute, before forcing himself awake. "I gotta get moving or I'm just going to fall back asleep right here." He sighs and pushes himself up, downing the rest of the orange juice with a wince. "We leaving soon?"

Orange checks the clock. "Twenty minutes?"

"Alright," Hook says. "I'll meet you at the car."

Orange nods, watching him disappear back into the bedroom. Tapping his fingers against the table, he sighs and goes off to get ready as well.

The flight all in all goes fine. Hook dozes through most of the flight, his head resting on Orange's shoulder, and Orange thinks about the text chain the Conglomeration had going overnight. Kyle and Mark are about as hyped as he thought they would be, Mark especially enthused to partner up with Hook after seeing him take on three guys at once Sunday. Orange smiles and glances over at him, eyes softening as he takes in the relaxed look on Hook's face, his lips parted as he breathes steadily.

It kind of sucks having to wake him, but they've landed and it's time to go so he's gentle as he rubs his arm. "Hook, we're in Illinois," he says, kissing Hook's temple. "Wake up."

"Mmmph, no," Hook mumbles, nuzzling into Orange's throat.

Orange watches people start to line up to disembark. "You have a couple minutes," he says with a chuckle, brushing his fingers through Hook's hair. He feels as he blinks, eyelashes tickling his jaw, before he sluggishly sits up.

"Fine," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm up." He squints around and slowly stands, joining the line of people filing out at Orange's encouragement when it's their turn.

"Do you need eyedrops put in?" Orange asks.

"Yeah, I think so," he mumbles. His eyes are doing a lot better, but they still get sensitive and itchy, especially after flights.

"Alright, let's get the rental car sorted, and then I'll help. If you want."

Hook glances over at him. "Please."

Orange smiles and nods as they make their way over to the luggage area, collecting their bags. It's a sign of trust he's not sure he still deserves after everything, but he's relieved to have it.

They arrive with plenty of time to spare and Hook glances around, taking in the arena that's new to both of them. Once they've had their fill of looking around, they walk inside and Hook immediately flinches back by Mark Briscoe's loud greeting. Orange has gotten used to it the last few months and rests a steadying hand on his shoulder as Kyle smiles apologetically at them.

"There's the FTW champ now!" Mark exclaims, bounding over with a ridiculous amount of energy. "We're sure to win tonight with you on our side!"

Hook falters, glancing over at Orange. "Uh, hi," he says, looking like he wants nothing more than to pull his hoodie up and his beanie down and hide for the rest of the night until it's bell time.

It doesn't kill Mark's enthusiasm, however, and he continues beaming at them, looking back and forth between Orange and Hook. "I see why you two get on!" he says cheerfully. "C'mon, fellas, we got things to do before the show starts!"

As he rushes off, Kyle close behind, Orange shrugs at Hook and urges him forward, hand warm on his back as they walk side by side down the hall to where their locker room is for the evening. As soon as the door closes behind them, Mark starts in with a pep talk, his voice echoing around the room, and Hook looks more than a little unsettled even as Kyle stares at Mark, eyes wide and lips parted, enamored.

Orange nudges Hook and tilts his head towards the corner of the room. "You don't have to pay attention to this," he tells him quietly. "You can listen to some music, or something. He won't notice."

"He really won't mind?" Hook asks, hands twitching over the handle of his bag.

"Nah. Go ahead." Orange smiles at him as some of the tension eases from Hook's shoulders and he nods, escaping into the corner Orange had motioned towards.

Time passes, Hook pulling off his hoodie and switching into a white shirt he'd had in his bag, Champaign just a little too warm and humid even for him. He keeps an eye on the room in general even as he hides in his own little world, trying to focus on what's going to come. Wrestling Jericho again, no matter who his partners are, won't ever be something he'll look forward to. He's gingerly brushing his fingers over the faint scars by his temple when he realizes Kyle is standing in front of him. "Sorry," he says, quickly pulling his earbuds out. "What, what's up?"

"Ok if I sit?"

"Yeah, sure," Hook says, glancing over at the space on the bench next to him.

Kyle smiles a little and settles down next to him. "I just wanted to make sure you're ok," he says, glancing over towards Mark. "I know he's loud, but he really does mean well."

"Oh," Hook says, blinking. "Yeah, I'm good. Just, uh. Haven't slept well the last few days."

"Gotcha," Kyle says, nodding. "Yeah, jetlag can be a real jerk sometimes."

"Yeah," Hook mumbles, staring down at his hands. "But, uh, don't worry, I'll be good for the match. I won't... I won't cost us."

Kyle shakes his head. "I wasn't worried about that, I've seen enough of your matches to know how good you are. Besides it's different when you're actually in the ring, right? That adrenaline kicks in and just puts everything right when you actually get moving."

Hook chuckles a little, rubbing at his nose. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Like that."

"I know that things didn't go that well for you the last time you defeated Jericho at a PPV and had a match the following week," Kyle hazards after a moment, glancing at the scars just visible under Hook's hair. "But, uh. We'll take care of you. No more wizard BS, alright? We've got your back."

Hook blinks, surprised. "Oh," he says. "Alright. Thanks."

They sit quietly for a couple of moments, lost in thought, then Kyle brightens. "Oh hey, I got you something. It's not much, but uh..." He pulls out a bag of Doritos. "You like these, right?"

Hook glances from the chips to Kyle. "Yeah," he says, reaching out to take it. "Thanks." He rubs his thumb over the plastic bag, some of the tension easing from his shoulders at the familiarity.

Kyle smiles and stands. "Ok, I'm gonna let you get back to what you were doing. I'm looking forward to partnering with you."

"Me too," Hook says quietly, watching as Kyle walks back over to Mark.

Orange glances over at him with a small smile, looking like he's about to say something when there's a knock at the door. He wanders over to answer it, nodding along to what's being said. "Thanks," he says. "We'll be out in a minute." He pushes the door shut before turning back to the others. "That was Willow, Renee wants to interview us all before the tag match."

Mark and Kyle rush out, Mark already mid-rant as Kyle nods along encouragingly. Orange glances over at Hook and shrugs, putting his sunglasses on. "You going to be ok with this?"

"Yeah," Hook says, hoisting up the FTW title. "Let's do this." He heads out of the door, then looks over his shoulder. "Don't eat all of my chips."

"No promises," Orange says, chuckling as Hook makes a face at him.

Multi-man tag matches are always chaotic. Orange is used to them, but he knows Hook isn't. Not to this extent. Even when he partnered with Shibata and Joe, things were still structured, and if they risked getting a little messy, Joe was usually enough to get things back under control, but when you're four on four against guys like The Learning Tree and Roderick Strong, well, they tend to make things a lot more complicated than necessary just because they can.

It's almost not a surprise when Orange, Kyle and Mark get overwhelmed by Big Bill, Jericho and Brian Keith and completely lose track of Hook. He wins, they hear the bell and Mark and Kyle start celebrating, jostling on either side of Orange, but then the brawl begins again and Orange thinks he catches sight of Bennett and Taven running past, but he can't do anything about it, just fighting to keep his head above water. By the time the referees and security manage to separate all of them, the ring is empty. The Kingdom is gone, but so is Hook.

Orange looks around desperately. "Where is he?" he asks a nearby referee. "Hook? Did you see where he went?"

"I don't know," the referee says, Orange's brows furrowing in concern as he makes his way backstage and looks around through the people milling around, waiting for the next match.

Kyle looks guilty. "Damn, man. I promised him we'd keep an eye on him. Come on, Mark, let's help look for him."

Orange watches them run off, turning to look down the shadowy hallway leading away from the titantron. "Dammit," he exhales. "Hook..." He takes off at a quick walk, glancing in room after room, not seeing anything and moving on.

When they'd first begun partnering, Hook wouldn't spend a lot of time in locker rooms. They were too loud, too packed with people, and he'd find a dark, shadowy part of the arena to sit and find his focus before matches, or decompress afterwards. Orange would sometimes join him and they'd sit in the shadows and just breathe. Sometimes share chips. Whatever it took to make Hook feel better.

Because of this, Orange is pretty confident he knows where to find Hook. Which is kind of a relief, as well-meaning as Mark is, he's pretty sure Hook would be too overwhelmed by him to even function right now if he was the one to locate him. Orange finds a dark, quiet room that seems to mostly be storage and begins to search through it, hoping that he's close. He doesn't want to think about Hook being left alone for much longer, especially when he's not even sure what happened after the bell rang.

He turns in a slow circle, looking around at the shadowy containers and shelves, exhaling. "Fuck, Hook, where are you?" he mumbles, about to go find somewhere else to search when he hears something, a noise that's become sadly familiar after the last couple of days. He freezes and turns around. "Hook?"

He follows the sound to one of the darkest corners of the room and stops short, his chest aching as he stares down at his boyfriend, curled up in a miserable little ball between the wall and a storage container, face buried in his knees and body trembling hard. "Oh shit, baby, what happened?" he asks, dropping down in front of Hook and reaching out anxiously towards him. "Are you hurt?"

Hook slowly untucks himself and peers up at Orange, his face flushed red and dripping wet with tears.

Orange's heart breaks. "Hook, baby, what's wrong?"

Hook tries to speak, then presses a fist to his mouth, muffling a sob. "I- I keep fucking up," he finally manages to choke out. "I can't do anything right-"

"What?" Orange leans closer. "Baby, that's not true. What's going on?"

Hook sniffs and buries his face in his hands for a moment before peering back at Orange, broken, miserable. "I had Roddy in the Redrum, but he was... he was too close to the ropes, he got his foot under- but the referee on- only saw him tapping out," he breathes out. "It wasn't a clean win."

Orange exhales. "Hook-"

"Do you know what I wanted to talk to you about on Sunday?" Hook asks, a fresh wave of tears pouring down his face. When Orange shakes his head, Hook shivers. "After the press scrum thing, my dad pulled me aside so we could have a conversation. He- he thinks it might be time to retire the FTW title."

Orange's jaw drops as he glances down at the title held in Hook's lap, tears dripping down its plates and darkening the fabric of the strap. "He... what?"

"Guy called it a joke, and I guess it was just the final straw for Dad," Hook says, voice still thick with tears. "He hasn't said anything since, but it... it keeps..." He shivers. "It keeps playing through my mind... I wanted to rebuild this belt into something special, something meaningful, and I... I..." He sobs, clinging to the belt harder. "What do they say? The title doesn't make the man, the man makes the title?" He laughs bitterly, dropping his head back against the wall. "Just add it to the list of my failures. And now I can't even win a match clean anymore."

Orange rests his hand on Hook's knee, feeling how hard he's trembling. "Baby, it was one match," he says softly. "I know it's little comfort right now, but shit like that happens to everyone. You'll win the next one, and things will feel better." His eyes rest on the belt, the tight grip Hook has on it. "As for this title belt, it's always going to be yours, part of your father's legacy, part of your legacy," he says, smoothing his thumb over the strap. "Retired or not, no one can take that from you. This title will always have a place in our home, Hook."

Hook crumbles, sobs tearing through him so hard and fast that it's both painful to watch and listen to.

"Fuck," Orange breathes. "Come here, baby. Come here." He gently tugs Hook out of the corner, into his arms, and tucks Hook's face into his neck. "I've got you. It's going to be ok."

"It's not," he sobs, fingers digging into Orange's back desperately. "I lost the crowd, I- I failed this title, I'm losing you, I can't even submit opponents correctly anymore, my dad's disappointed in me, I don't-"

Orange's eyes well with tears and he exhales shakily, shifting them until he's pressed against the wall, sinking back to hold Hook more comfortably. "Shhh, shhh," he whispers, rubbing slow, soothing circles against Hook's back. "You listen to me. The crowds still love you, did you hear that reaction tonight?" He rests his hand where the FTW title rests between them, brushing some of the lingering tears off of its plates. "You didn't fail this title, you've sacrificed so much for it for so long, you've fought so hard to defend it, and if you need any proof of what that means to this business, you talk to Tony Khan about it. You were sitting next to him at the scrum Sunday, he has very strong, positive feelings about that belt and about you." Orange's hand drifts up and he runs his fingers through Hook's hair gently, watching how the soft brown strands curl around his hand. "By the way, the day I believe your dad is ever disappointed in you is the day I stop wearing denim. As for how things ended with Roddy, I've already told you how I feel about that. Tonight was just shitty luck, and I'm so damn sorry you got left alone in the ring like that, we were supposed to have your back and it all just fell apart, I know Kyle and Mark feel bad about it too..."

He gently pushes Hook back, careful to keep his hands steady against Hook's jaw, staring into his wet, miserable eyes. "And you hear me right now when I say, you are not losing me. I am right here, and I love you. Sunday was a big fuck up on my part, and I will never be able to apologize enough for it, but I'm not going anywhere."

Hook's lips tremble as he clings to Orange's wrists. "Say it again," he breathes out.

"I love you so much," he repeats himself. "And I'm never, ever going anywhere."

Hook cries again, fresh tears dripping down Orange's fingers, and he presses forward, kissing Orange. "I love you too," he whispers when he pulls away, sniffling. "I'm sorry, I'm crying all over you, it's disgusting-"

"It's fine," Orange says, stroking the side of Hook's neck. "You're fine. Just breathe, baby. It's all going to be ok."

Hook sniffs and rests his forehead against Orange's shoulder, trying to stop crying.

Orange waits patiently, brushing his fingers through Hook's hair, smoothing his hand down his back in what he hopes are soothing motions.

Finally, Hook pulls away and wipes helplessly at his face. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Orange says softly. "You're ok. I feel like you needed to let that all out for awhile now. Things... haven't been easy for you in quite awhile."

Hook scoffs, then exhales. "It hasn't been easy for either of us in a long time," he sighs. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you more during everything-"

"You were," Orange says, reaching out and cradling Hook's hands close. "I promise you. The main thing that held me together at all the last few months has been you."

"You say that," Hook says, searching Orange's face. "But you... you thought you had to push me away on Sunday. You thought I was going to end things. That doesn't sound very promising for how solid you really think we are."

Orange sighs and leans in, pressing his forehead to Hook's. "I wish I could explain it," he says. "I don't really understand it myself. I just... my worst impulses and fears took over that night. But now? I look at you and I don't doubt at all how you feel about me. Or anything else about our relationship." He strokes Hook's knuckles and sighs. "I know it's something that's going to take time to trust in again. I'll give you all of the time you need. Just know that I'm always here for you. No matter what." He reaches out and brushes his thumbs gently under Hook's eyes again. "Alright?"

Hook nods. "Alright," he whispers, searching Orange's eyes.

Orange takes a deep breath. "Let's get out of here," he says, pulling back reluctantly. "Go get our things, head back to the hotel. Get some sleep. I'm sure things'll look better in the morning."

"I hope so," Hook says, hesitant. "But I can't go back to the locker room like this. I must look like shit."

Orange examines him and grimaces. "Well, no, but you do look like you've been crying hard for a long time." He stands up and gets ahold of Hook's hand, pulling him to his feet. "Here." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the sunglasses he'd taken from ringside after the match was over. "Let's see," he says softly, carefully putting them on Hook's face. "Alright?"

Hook adjusts them, then nods. "Yeah," he says. "Do I look ok?"

Orange smiles. "Yeah, you do. C'mon, let's go, handsome." He presses close to Hook as they walk shoulder to shoulder back through the halls towards the locker rooms to change out of their gear and get their luggage so they can leave.

Kyle and Mark are in the locker room, Kyle's eyes widening when he looks at Hook. "You found him!" he says, smile looking a little strained. "Is... are you alright, Hook?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm fine." Keeping his head ducked, Hook walks over to his bag and starts digging around in it.

"His eyes still get sensitive sometimes with all the lights and things," Orange says. "So I gave him my sunglasses. We're gonna leave soon. He needs to get some rest."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Kyle says. "Hope you feel better soon, Hook."

"Thanks," he says quietly. "I, uh. Thanks for partnering with me tonight. You guys could've chose anyone, but..."

Kyle shakes his head, eyes wide and worried as he looks back and forth between Orange and Hook. "No, we got the partner we all wanted. I'm sorry we were railroaded by The Learning Tree and left you alone in there against The Kingdom. if we ever get the opportunity again, I'm sure it'll go better."

"I hope so," Hook murmurs before pulling his hoodie and sweatpants on.

Orange nods at Kyle and Mark as soon as Hook has all of his things and is ready to go, holding the locker room door open for him.

Arriving at the hotel is a relief to both of them and Orange takes the sunglasses back, smiling sadly at Hook as he sees how bloodshot and sensitive his eyes still look, his face still swollen and flushed. "Go on and take a nice long shower," he says. "I'll get your eyedrops out."

Hook hesitates, clinging to the FTW title. He's done so more ferociously since Sunday, and now Orange understands why, that it's more than just finally having it back after months of having to watch Jericho defile it with his name over Taz's, the unwarranted renaming of it, everything. He knows, and it aches somewhere deep in his chest. "I," Hook falters. "I need to polish this. It, uh. It..." He sighs, shoulders slumping. "I cried all over it, and I don't want it to stain or rust or something."

Orange examines it. "I could polish it for you," he suggests carefully. "If you're ok with that."

Hook takes a deep breath, searching Orange's face. "Yeah?"

Orange smiles, not seeing the hesitation or trepidation he'd expected to see at the suggestion. "Yeah."

Hook bites his lip, reaching into his bag and pulling out the polishing kit he has. He taps his fingers over its case for a moment before settling it gently in Orange's outstretched hand, the FTW title shortly joining it. "Ok," he says softly. "Thanks."

Orange smiles, his eyes warm as he watches Hook observe the careful way he holds the belt close, protectively. It's important to Hook, thus it's important to him. "My pleasure."

Taking a breath, Hook nods and turns towards the bathroom. "Orange?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Orange breathes in, then exhales slowly, Hook saying those words unprompted warming him in a way he hasn't felt in a very, very long time. "I love you too."

Hook disappears into the bathroom and Orange sits with the FTW title, carefully polishing the plates. Cleaning off the salty tear trails that came from Hook's breakdown earlier. Thinks about the things they've discussed, the heartbreak in Hook's eyes that hopefully is settled a little, maybe even pieced back together somewhat. He hopes so, anyway.

When Hook leaves the bathroom, dressed in shorts and a short sleeved shirt, Orange smiles at him and stands, walking over to him with the FTW title held out. "How does it look?"

Hook is tender as he takes it from him, cradling the belt close as he examines it. "It looks really good. Thank you."

Orange nods. "Now you," he says, holding up the eyedrops. "Get comfortable."

Hook exhales, then nods, wandering over to his bed and settling down. Orange sits next to him and waits as he adjusts the pillows and blinks slowly, finally looking over at him. "Alright," he says softly, laying there patiently as Orange puts two drops in each eye before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Hook's forehead.

"Good night," he murmurs. "If you need me, I'm just across the room."

"Good night," Hook breathes out, sounding exhausted.

Orange presses another kiss, this time to Hook's lips, before slowly standing and heading into the bathroom. Once he finishes in there, he returns to the main room to find Hook fast asleep, breathing steadily, and Orange smiles sadly at his peaceful expression before moving to the second bed and crawling in under the covers. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to sleeping separately from Hook, but at least when they're on the road, they're in the same room.

It's progress.

-x

Considering how the night before had gone, Orange and Hook are in good moods when they return to their apartment the following afternoon. The flight from Illinois to New York had gone smoothly, the two of them watching a movie together until landing, nitpicking and laughing at different points during it. Normal. Nice.

Hook unlocks their door and holds it for Orange with a small smile, following him in. He drops his luggage by the closet and groans, "I'm fuckin' hungry, do we have anything in the fridge?"

Orange is about to answer when there's a soft, confused noise from Hook in the kitchen and he blinks, following him in. "What's up?"

Hook blinks a couple of times, his eyes wide, and then comes back to himself, shakes his head. "Uh, nothing," he says, but there's clearly something going on, Orange growing more concerned the longer he stands there, as if frozen in place.

Orange looks past him at the fridge. "Hey, your mom came by?" he asks, noticing a note with her recognizable handwriting scrawled on it. "What'd she say?"

Hook looks stonefaced, like he gets when something bad's happened, and Orange frowns at him, moving around him to get a good look at the note himself.

Tyler, Mrs. Senerchia's handwriting reads, hope your flight went well. I came by to bring you some food, I figured your fridge would be empty. I swear we taught you how to shop for groceries at some point. Please call me when you get an opportunity. Love, Mom

There's no mention of Orange at all in it. When Hook opens the fridge with uncertain hands, there's one container inside, with only his name on its bright blue lid. Orange stares at the delicately written words that feel as sharp as a knife for a few more moments before Hook turns and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Hey-"

His touch brings Orange back around and he forces a smile as he looks into Hook's concerned eyes. "Well, there you go, now you can eat," he says. "We can go grocery shopping tomorrow, I guess. Uh, I'm going to go watch Dynamite. I'll order something to eat later."

Hook stands there, helpless, as Orange walks slowly into the living room. Orange listens as Hook reluctantly pulls out the food and settles in at the table, out of sight from where he's sitting on the couch. He doesn't watch all of Dynamite, not right now. Maybe later. He just... he needs to relive the eight man tag, maybe listen to what commentary had to say, then...

It somehow gets worse. Taz almost always had something nice to say about him in the past. 'Good guy, that Orange Cassidy', or some compliment about his moves, or something. But this match... It's not like Orange really expected Taz to be as lighthearted as usual in regards to him, considering how the week has gone, their last conversation proving just how angry Taz is with him, but god, the tone of his voice when Orange makes his way to the ring. He sounds frigid, to the point that Tony and Excalibur are both obviously startled. He's fine, for the most part, when Mark and Kyle are in the ring, and he sounds most like himself when Hook is wrestling, but the instant Orange tags in, the change is evident. He doesn't even say anything necessarily insulting, it's just the tone of his voice and his demeanor, especially whenever he is forced to speak Orange's name. Orange can only imagine the look on his face back at the commentary table.

It hurts to listen to, about as bad as being completely ignored by Mrs Senerchia, and he doesn't even realize his hands are shaking until Hook is there, gently taking the remote from him and turning the recording off. "Hey," he says softly, reaching out for Orange. "Hey, it's- it's going to be ok-"

"No," Orange chokes out. "Your parents hate me. I... I fucked up so bad, they- they-"

Hook grabs him and pulls him in, holding him close, running his fingers through Orange's hair gently. "Shhhh," he whispers. "It's going to be ok." He kisses Orange's forehead. "Hey, let's get you something to eat, alright? It... it'll make you feel better."

Hook tries. Bless him, he really does. He orders Orange's favorite meal from his favorite place, which Orange barely manages to pick at before pushing it away, feeling almost sick inside and Hook puts it in the fridge to try to get Orange to eat later. He turns on one of the movies that Orange loves and he hates, and he holds Orange through it, murmuring to him at all of his favorite parts, trying so hard to cheer Orange up, get him to react even a little. Nothing helps, though. Nothing works. All Orange can think about is how he's ruined everything. Again.

It's still relatively early when the movie ends but before Hook can suggest something else they can do, Orange pulls away from him. "I'm tired," he says quietly. "I'm going to bed. Good night."

Hook blinks, hesitates, then nods. "Alright," he says. "Good night."

Orange trudges to the guest room, sinks onto the foot of the bed, and just sits there, not bothering to change clothes, or go to the bathroom, or do anything to make things more comfortable for himself. It all feels too daunting. He doesn't deserve it. He eventually doesn't even have the strength to remain sitting upright and he drops to the side, staring blankly at the wall.

He's not sure how much time has passed, sleep evading him, when the door slowly opens, and Hook shuffles in quietly. There's a soft noise from him and Orange wants to check on him, make sure he's ok, god, he really does, but he just can't move. Everything weighs too much, it all hurts too much, and he just wants to lay here until life feels better again, until he feels better again. If that can ever happen.

But Hook clearly disagrees with this notion because he kneels by the side of the bed and brushes Orange's hair out of his eyes, peering into his face. "Hey," he says upon realizing that Orange is awake. "Hey, come here."

Orange expects another hug, maybe Hook to run his fingers through his hair until sleep claims him, but no, when he reaches out and grips Orange's hand, he wraps his other arm around Orange's shoulders and pulls him upright. A petulant little noise of protest tears from his throat and Hook pauses.

"I know," he says softly, resting his forehead against the side of Orange's face. "I know, you don't want to move right now. Unfortunately, I'm not taking no for an answer right now. Either you let me help you, or I'll carry you."

Orange knows without looking that Hook isn't kidding. He groans but gets his feet under him and allows Hook to shuffle him to the bathroom. Hook does help- he nudges Orange into brushing his teeth, splashing some water on his face, even helps him change out of his travel clothes into one of Orange's oldest, most comfortable shirts and a pair of sweatpants that Orange thinks probably is Hook's, before guiding him back into the hallway.

Orange is trying to turn towards the guest room once more, not necessarily looking forward to sleep, but knowing that he at least needs to try, when Hook's arm curls around his waist once more. "No," he says. "You're not going in there again." He turns Orange gently- and walks him into their bedroom. Which Orange hasn't even stepped inside of in almost a week.

For the first time in what feels like hours, Orange speaks, clinging to Hook's arm. "Hook-" he says.

"I want you with me," Hook murmurs, kissing the side of Orange's face. "Ok?"

"Are you sure?"

Hook nods. "I'm sure." He guides Orange over to the bed and holds the sheets until he's settled in, then tucks him in. "It's going to be ok," he says, leaning in and kissing him. "It'll all be ok."

Orange watches as Hook rounds the bed and lays down flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He's nowhere near as close to Orange as he would usually be, but still. They're in the same bed again, after so many cold, lonely nights of sleeping apart. It... it's a step in the right direction, but Orange feels restless, sad. He tries so damn hard to be quiet as tears well up in his eyes, remembering Mrs. Senerchia's words. Taz's cold tone. He did this. His words, his actions were the final straw in a shitty weekend that broke Hook, and caused Hook's family to hate him.

He must make a noise at some point because one minute he's crying bitterly, tears pouring down his face, and the next Hook has sat up, turning to look at him with a troubled expression on his face visible even in the dim room. Orange panics a little when he scoots over, hovering above him. He stiffens as Hook reaches out for him, brushing his fingers over Orange's wet cheeks.

"Oh, no, hey," Hook murmurs. He nuzzles even closer and wraps his arms around Orange, kissing his face, trying to sooth him. "I'm right here. It's going to be ok."

"No," he mumbles pathetically, hands trembling as he grasps at Hook. "Your parents hate me, and I know how important they are to you, and-"

Hook kisses him again, quieting him mid-sentence. "Listen," he says softly. "Yes, they are important to me, but so are you." He strokes his thumbs over Orange's beard and looks up at him, an intent look in his dark eyes. "Trust me when I tell you. Everything's going to be fine."

Orange stares up into his face, exhaling shakily. He feels like he should protest, but he's so tired of arguing. With himself, with Hook, with life as a whole. And Hook's body is so warm against his, his touch so gentle. Orange closes his eyes and melts into it. "It's going to be ok," he echoes.

"That's right," Hook murmurs, nuzzling into him. "It is."

He doesn't want to sleep, he wants this moment with Hook to last forever, staring up into his eyes and seeing the soft affection there, but he's bone tired and before he can even try to stop it, he's slipping under, Hook's touch guiding him all the way into a deep, badly needed rest.

-x

Orange wakes up slowly, blinking sluggishly as awareness creeps back up on him. He groans softly, pressing his face into the pillows. It takes a few minutes to fully register with him that this isn't still the guest room, but as soon as it does he frowns, slowly rolling over and looking around. The bed next to him is cold, empty, sheets pulled up and tucked in close to him. He grimaces and rubs at his face before sitting up. "Hook?" he calls out. There's no answer and he realizes how unnaturally quiet the apartment is. He scrubs his hand through his hair and slowly gets out of bed, stretching with a wince.

When he walks into the kitchen, he stares at the fridge, at the various strange magnets he and Hook have accumulated from various places. 's note is gone. He ducks his head and sighs, trudging back into the living room. It's barely 9 AM, and he slumps onto the couch, brushing his hand over his face. Even though he slept for about eight hours, he still feels weary, and Hook not being home only makes him feel worse.

He's not sure how much time has passed when he finally hears the door getting unlocked behind him. Orange doesn't move, just listening as Hook walks in, pausing in the entrance to the living room. "Hey," he says, dropping his keys and a bag on the table before sitting down next to Orange with a sigh. "I thought you might still be asleep."

"Bed was cold," Orange mumbles, straightening up a little and turning to look at Hook. "Where'd you go?"

Hook hesitates a moment, then exhales. "Uh, well, I went out to get us breakfast." He nods at the bag, then licks his lips. "I first went to my parents', though."

Orange frowns, searching Hook's face. "Hook," he says slowly. "What... what did you do?"

Hook seems to be considering things for a moment before he exhales, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his mom's note. Crumpled up, torn in two, her delicate handwriting barely legible any longer. He drops it on the table too, and shrugs. "I told them that you're going through enough shit, and we're working things out, and the last thing either of us needs are them making things harder by being passive aggressive."

"Hook," Orange says, reaching out for him. "Look, I appreciate you trying, but I... I don't want you to risk your relationship with them just because they're pissed off at me. They... I don't blame them for feeling that way, they're just trying to protect you."

Hook scoffs. "Protect me? From what? You? I never asked for or needed that." He squeezes Orange's hand. "And have you met my dad? If anything, he respects me more for actually standing up for something. He knows it's not..." Hook looks around restlessly, searching for the right words, before looking back at Orange. "It's not easy for me to confront shit like this head on, hell he saw the scrum and how I froze up when that guy insulted the FTW title. If Tony hadn't been there,..." Hook closes his eyes, rubbing a thumb over his nose, brows furrowed in frustration. At himself, at the situation as a whole. "Anyway, uh. Yeah. So I told Mom that she can't just cook for me and exclude you. It's not fair, it just makes us both feel like shit. And I told Dad that he needs to leave his issues at the door when he's commentating your matches. You deal with enough bullshit from Nigel, you don't need it from Dad too. I don't know if he'll listen, but I tried."

Orange wants to protest more, say that he's not worthy of this, that the last thing he wants to do is cause Hook more grief, but he stares deep into his eyes and knows that Hook won't listen to a word of it, will only tell him he's wrong, and... well. What's done is done anyway. Orange exhales slowly, scooting closer and wrapping his arms tightly around Hook. "Thanks," he mumbles into his hair.

Hook nods, hugging him back. "Always," he says, smiling when Orange eases back enough to kiss him, slow and lazy and perfect. When they finally part, Hook rests his forehead against Orange's and just breathes for a couple of minutes, enjoying the moment. "Breakfast?" he finally asks. "Before it gets cold?"

"Yeah," Orange says quietly, reminded that he hadn't really ate since before their flight the day before. "I could eat."

"There's also those leftovers in the fridge," Hook mentions as he unearths a couple of obnoxiously large breakfast sandwiches and some hash browns from the bag. "But first," he says, putting everything aside and collecting the garbage container from next to the couch, holding it against the edge of the table. "Do the honors."

Orange blinks at him, uncertain, before his gaze falls onto the rumpled remains of the note. "Oh," he says, frowning. Hook waits with more patience than he shows most things and Orange takes a breath, realizing he's not going to let this go either. "Alright." He rests his hand next to the loose papers and slowly pushes them off of the table into the trash can, and Hook smiles at him once every last piece of it has disappeared into the dark recesses, out of sight, hopefully some day soon, out of mind. "Thank you," he says, leaning in and kissing Hook again. "I love you."

Hook's eyes soften. "I love you too. Now c'mon, I'm starving," he says, nudging him back towards his food with a faint chuckle.

Orange hadn't expected this life with Hook when they began partnering up almost a year ago. But, he thinks as he presses his arm against Hook's while they eat side by side, it really is the best thing to ever happen to him.

-x

As days pass and things start to feel more and more settled between them, Orange finds himself idly planning whenever he has a free minute. He'd like to do... something for Hook. To make up a little for putting him through the emotional ringer the last week. He just has to wait for their first free day, which is hard to find in the scramble that is the thirteen days between All In and All Out.

His opportunity finally comes on Monday. Neither of them have travel, media isn't until the next day, and in general, it's just going to be a sleepy quiet day spent doing whatever they want because Hook had handled most of the errands over the weekend while Orange was competing on Collision, leaving them with few things to have to handle before Dynamite.

So when Orange wakes up, and finds Hook still fast asleep next to him, hugging a pillow tightly, lips parted sweetly and hair partially covering his face, he smiles and carefully gets out of bed, heading quietly to the kitchen. He had snuck out the night before while Hook was on the phone with Joe, going grocery shopping for supplies which he'd hidden in places he knew Hook wouldn't have a reason to look at too closely. Food prep doesn't take long, is mostly a quiet, simple affair. He sneaks a slow cooker out of one of the rarely used cupboards overhead and gets it ready, tossing ingredients in as he goes.

He's just dropped the last of the peeled potatoes in when he hears soft footsteps down the hall, Hook's sleepy shuffle heading his way. He puts the lid on the slow cooker and stands there, waiting, until Hook finds him and wraps his arms around him, presses his face between his shoulderblades, swaying a little. "Good morning," Orange says, resting his hands over Hook's forearms. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh huh," Hook mumbles, pressing closer to him. "Til I woke up alone."

Orange chuckles a little, watching the little red light on the slow cooker. "Sorry," he says, squeezing Hook's arm. "I had things to do."

"More important than staying in our nice, warm bed and holding me?" Hook demands, sounding pretty affronted now.

Orange turns and cups Hook's face, kissing him until Hook groans, parting his lips and sighing softly as Orange takes the opportunity to explore his mouth briefly. "We can return to it if you want," he says, not surprised by the dazed look in Hook's eye when he finally pulls back. They're still going slow, taking things a day at a time. Haven't really moved past kissing, just yet, but he knows it'll happen eventually. He's in no hurry, and he's definitely not going to risk rushing Hook at any step of this path to recovery in their relationship.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Orange glances over at the slow cooker one more time before squeezing Hook's hand. "C'mon, let's go."

They get comfortable, side by side, Hook nuzzled into Orange's neck, an arm lazily draped over his waist, while Orange rubs slowly up and down his back, soothing him, sending him back into a deep sleep. He dozes off and on too, lulled by Hook's soft breathing, his warmth against Orange's side. Hook stirs, slowly, a couple of hours later, and looks up to find Orange staring down at him fondly. "You stayed," he mumbles.

"Yes, I did," Orange murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Mm, nice," he hums, shifting over to skim his fingers along the back of Orange's head, holding him in place as he noses at Orange's jaw, slowly pressing kisses up to his lips, where he lingers, leaving Orange breathless as he kisses him intently.

Orange presses his hands flush against Hook's back, sliding them up towards his shoulders. "Hook," he moans, enjoying Hook's attention as he licks into him.

"Mm hmm," he sighs, brushing his fingers up through Orange's hair before lightly tangling them in the longer strands, tugging his head back to look Orange in the eyes as he tries to chase Hook's mouth, not wanting this moment to end. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he says, pressing a few more hungry, lingering kisses to Orange's lips.

"Hook," he breathes out, blinking back to some semblance of awareness as Hook sits back and stares down at him, a conflicted look on his face. "It's ok. If you're not ready. It is."

Hook closes his eyes and exhales. "I don't wanna tease you or anything, I just." He grimaces. "It... it's been nice, right?" He looks painfully uncertain as he meets Orange's eyes again. "Reconnecting the last few days?"

Orange rubs soothing circles against Hook's hands, thinking about it. They had moved quickly when they first realized that things had changed from being a tag team to friendship to something romantic, and at some point in the spring, it had just made sense to move in together, since their schedules didn't always allign well and free time to spend together was limited, especially once they made the decision to stop teaming up in-ring. Yeah, their relationship had always been simple and easy, which probably made everything that happened over All In feel even more world shattering, but they'd never exactly taken things slowly, until after Orange almost succeeded at pushing Hook away and forced them to take a couple of steps back, rebuild themselves.

He takes a breath, realizing Hook is looking more and more concerned the longer Orange takes to answer. "Yeah," he says, pressing a kiss to Hook's palm. "It has been nice. I have no complaints, Hook. You take as long as you need. I'm not going to hurry you."

Hook exhales and leans in for another kiss. "Thanks," he breathes out, a tremulous smile on his face. "I promise it won't be forever. I just... I'm not quite there yet."

"That's fine," Orange murmurs, wrapping his arms around Hook and holding him close, kissing the side of his face. "Everything's fine, Hook."

Once they finally find the energy to drag themselves out of bed, Orange heads into the kitchen to check on and stir the food before putting the lid back on to give it a few more hours. He turns to find Hook watching him from the doorway with a curious glint in his eye and offers a small smile and shrug before reaching out to take his hand. They end up on the couch in the living room, Orange's back resting against the arm rest as Hook settles back against his chest, hair gently tickling his cheek as he rests his head against his shoulder, staring down at his phone while Orange gets lost in playing FIFA.

Hook isn't much for FIFA, and Orange isn't entirely sure what he's doing on his phone, but neither feel like being apart right now, so this is a nice compromise as Hook snuggles back into Orange's arms, giving him plenty of space to maneuver the controller as needed. Orange is well onto winning his second game when Hook puts his phone down and turns his head to half-watch the screen. "Food's smelling good," he mumbles.

Orange pauses the game and takes a deep breath, smelling the tangy scent of the meat as well, pressing a kiss to the side of Hook's face. "Let me finish this and I'll go see if it's done," he says, resuming gameplay as Hook settles in comfortably and waits, watching as Orange continues decimating his opponents.

"Is there a lacrosse game?" Hook mumbles, eyes half-closed as he listens to the game sounds.

"What?" Orange asks, distracted.

"Is there a lacrosse video game?"

Orange blinks hard. "Uh, I think so," he says, focusing on the last few plays that cinch the win. He smirks as he puts the controller down and tilts Hook's face up, kissing him soundly on the lips. "Success," he says with a pleased glint in his eye, squeezing Hook close for a couple minutes. "Ok, unfortunately we have to get up if we're ever going to eat."

"Hmph," Hook mumbles, reluctantly pulling away and standing, stretching his arms out as high as possible until his shirt rides up. He notices Orange staring at him, and smirks a little. "Come on," he says, holding a hand out. "I'm hungry."

Orange hums and laces their fingers together, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. He nuzzles into Hook for a moment, kissing his jaw before walking around him into the kitchen. "Go sit at the table, I'll be in in a minute," he says as Hook opens the fridge and pulls out a couple of sodas for them.

Hook nods and settles in his usual seat at the table, Orange quickly getting a couple of plates and serving them. Hook blinks as he joins him, placing the plates down. "Whoa," he says, examining the meat piled up next to generous portions of potatoes and carrots. It's all covered in a thick brown sauce and he quirks an eyebrow at Orange. "What is this?"

Orange shrugs. "Take a bite and find out," he suggests, watching as Hook hesitates.

"Not even a hint, huh?"

"Nope." Orange smirks as Hook huffs a little, then spears some of the meat with his fork, taking a bite.

"Oh shit," he mumbles, eyes widening as he immediately takes a second bite, moving onto the potatoes next with an appreciative noise. "Damn."

"Good, huh?" Orange asks, somewhat overwhelmed with relief as Hook even tries the carrots, which he knew wouldn't be an easy sell.

"Yeah, uh, you're definitely making this again," Hook says, still a little wide eyed as he returns his focus onto the meat. "But seriously, what is it?"

Orange smiles, trying it himself. Hook's right, the food's damn good and he relaxes even more. "I found the recipe online," he says. "It's sweet'n'sour pot roast. I wasn't sure about it at first, but you're right. It came out really good. Maybe even worth me not staying in bed all morning, huh?"

Hook pauses mid-bite and squints at him. "I wouldn't go that far," he says once he's swallowed.

Orange laughs a little, shaking his head fondly. "I'll keep that in mind the next time."

Hook smiles at him.

Once they finish eating, Hook stands, moving to collect the plates, but Orange stops him, curling his fingers around his wrist. "No, it's ok," he tells him. "I'll get things soaking. You know what I'd like you to do now though?"

"What?" Hook says, his eyes a little nervous now as Orange smooths his thumb over Hook's pulse point.

"Go into your 'Show OC' playlist and start up one of those movies you've been wanting to make me watch," he says, barely able to resist laughing as Hook's jaw drops.

"Wha- how did you find that?" he sputters out after a few shocked moments.

"Stumbled on it a few days ago while looking for something to watch," Orange says. "Figured why not. We probably have time for one or two of them before bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah, probably," Hook says, still blinking at him in awe. "You're serious."

"I'm serious," Orange nods. "I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

As Hook walks dazedly back into the living room, Orange heads for the sink, filling it with water to let the dishes soak. Truthfully, he'd found the playlist a week ago while he was lonely and missing Hook, despite his just being asleep down the hall, and found himself looking through Hook's profile on their streaming account, eventually stumbling upon that. He hadn't bothered looking too closely at what was listed on it, but made note of the fact it existed at all. Once things started to get better and he began planning their day off, he knew that was the time to bring it up.

As Orange finishes with the dishes and heads into the living room to settle in with Hook, he takes one look at his face, the smile that's brought his dimples out for the first time in much too long, the gleam in his eye, and immediately has to lean in and kiss him, feel that happiness directly.

Yeah, he thinks as he stretches his arm out and Hook immediately cuddles in close to watch the first movie Hook's selected, it's all worth it.

-x

All Out. Very similar to All In. Orange fights his way into a four way match for the Continental title alongside Mark Briscoe, and... they both walk out losers. It's frustrating, adds to the ache deep in his sternum. He slumps back against the hotel door, closing his eyes as he breathes in slowly. He could barely think two weeks ago after All in, coming back to Hook with his worried eyes and hesitantly spoken words, but somehow it's worse now, the room before him empty and mocking since Hook hadn't been booked and is still at home in New York.

Orange shivers and considers calling him. But he's not sure what he would even say if he did, thunking his head back against the door before trudging forward, collapsing face first onto the bed. He's not sure how long he lays there in a motionless sprawl, when there's a sharp knock at the door. He squints at the clock, finding it well past 1 AM, and decides to ignore it, not feeling up to running the risk of it being a stalker fan or something else equally as tiresome.

Then his phone chirps and he groans, tilting his head enough to squint at the screen.

Taz: Answer your door.

Orange immediately chokes on thin air and scrambles off of the bed, almost slamming into the door in his haste to reach it. Skidding to a stop just in time, he grabs at the lock and gets the door open without too much struggle, gaping out at Taz. "Uh, hello?" he asks anxiously.

Taz quirks an eyebrow at him. "Hey. Take a breath."

Orange listens, blinking rapidly as he exhales and inhales, trying to calm himself. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"No," Taz says, sighing. "Nothing's wrong." He eyes Orange. "I'm transfering a plane ticket to you."

"What?" Orange asks, not making sense of any of this. "Why?"

"It's a red eye, get you back home to Hook sooner than whatever you've probably got already."

Orange gapes at him, a multitude of worries racing through his mind too quickly to fully grasp. "Is Hook ok? What-"

Taz groans and scrubs at his face. "Oh my god," he mumbles. "Yes," he says, grasping Orange by the shoulders and shaking him a little. "Hook is fine. Everything's fine. Don't look a gifthorse in the mouth, huh? Just take the flight and go home. Get a few extra hours with my son."

Orange swallows, searching Taz's face. "Taz..."

"I know," Taz says, sighing. "I know, Orange. It's ok. Just... take it as the apology it is, and go, alright?"

Orange slumps, and nods. "Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome." Taz claps him on the shoulder before turning to leave.

Orange holds onto the door, feeling like it's the only thing keeping him upright as he watches Taz go.

Then Taz stops and turns to look at him, a scrutinizing look on his face. "Hey, Orange?"

"Yeah?"

"You are a good guy." Smirking and shaking his head at the responding dazed look on Orange's face, Taz turns back and continues down to the elevator.

The apartment is dark and sleepy when Orange arrives and he exhales, scrubbing at his face as he quietly drops his luggage next to Hook's abandoned case, toeing his shoes off and padding towards the bedroom. It's equally as dark in there, the only sound greeting him being Hook's soft, steady breathing that guides him over to the bed. He kneels down and watches Hook sleep for a few moments before noticing Hook's phone still held in his hand. He smiles a little and reaches over, gently tugging the device out of his grasp and sets it down on the table.

He pauses, noticing the FTW title in its usual place, reaching out to lightly press his fingers against the bottom edge of it. Nothing's been said about it since All In, he thinks maybe everything going on made Taz pull back on discussing its future, but like most things in wrestling, he figures it's just simmering until some later date when the topic will be brought back up again and smack Hook between the eyes. All Orange knows for certain is that when it comes back around, he'll be there for Hook, and help support him through whatever decision is made.

He's pulled from these grim thoughts when Hook makes a soft, sleepy little noise and blinks awake, grasping at thin air as he pats around for his phone. "Wha... uh..." He scrubs at his face and looks around, noticing Orange. "Hey, what... you're home?" He shifts and sits up, sheets pooling around his waist as he reaches out for Orange. "What time is it?"

"About 6 AM," Orange says, wrapping his arms around Hook in a tight hug. "Missed you."

Hook smiles and nuzzles sleepily into Orange. "Missed you too," he mumbles, pulling away and cupping Orange's face in his hands, staring at him. "You ok?"

"Tired," Orange sighs, slumping into Hook's touch.

"Poor guy," Hook murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "C'mon, let's get some sleep. It's too fuckin' early. Wait, how did you get home so early?" He squints at the clock.

"Taz got me a red eye ticket home." Orange shrugs. "He said it was an apology."

Hook hums, laying back and watching as Orange shrugs his jacket off and wiggles out of his jeans, collapsing into bed next to him. Immediately Hook snuggles closer and drapes an arm over Orange's hip, wrapping them both up in the sheets. "Sounds like him," he mumbles.

When Hook next wakes up, it's a lot brighter in the room and he grunts as sun glints right in his face as he lifts his head, trying to figure out what woke him. He gets his answer when he hears a faint knocking sound down the hall and grimaces, checking on Orange before gently pulling away from him. He tucks the sheets back around him before stumbling out of the bedroom towards the front door. He checks himself really quickly, pulling on his abandoned hoodie from the couch before looking through the peep hole. Immediately he opens the door, blinking. "Mom?"

Mrs. Senerchia smiles weakly at her son. "Hi, baby."

"Hey," he says. "Uh, is everything ok?" They've talked a couple of times since Hook paid her and Taz a visit to try to set things straight about his future with Orange and their actions, but not about anything very serious, and for her to drop by unexpected at their apartment this early in the morning, well...

"Oh yes, everything's fine. I can't stay for long, your father didn't feel like making the walk up here after his flight, so he's still in the car."

"Right," Hook says slowly. "What's up?"

Mrs. Senerchia exhales. "Uh, is James around?"

"He's asleep," Hook says immediately, then pauses. "I, uh. I don't really want to wake him up unless it's something important?"

Mrs. Senerchia takes a moment, then reaches into her purse. "No, that's ok, let him sleep," she says. "I have something for him, is all." She pulls out an envelope and hands it to Hook, smiling a little. "Now don't get nosy and go peeking until he's awake, alright?" she teases him, squeezing his hand.

Hook stares at the soft blue envelope, then back up at her. "Yeah, ok," he says, blinking.

She leans in and kisses him on the forehead. "It's going to be ok, baby," she murmurs. "Oh, one last thing. Your father wanted me to give you this." She huffs as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a plastic container. She watches with fond amusement as Hook's eyes widen in recognition.

"Oh damn," he exhales, taking it from her. "It's this weekend, isn't it?" he asks, holding the container carefully.

She beams. "It is. Today's the final day." She leans in and hugs Hook. "You two have fun, baby."

"We will," he murmurs. "Mama?"

"Yes?" she asks.

He looks up at her, eyes bright. "Thank you."

She rubs his arm. "Any time, baby. Any time."

He closes the door quietly behind her as she leaves and then heads back to their bedroom, settling back in next to Orange after putting the container and envelope on the table. He scrolls around on his phone quietly for awhile, giving Orange more time to sleep.

It's a little over an hour later when Orange shifts, mumbling under his breath as he buries his face in Hook's neck. Hook smiles and wraps his arm around Orange, squeezing gently. "Good morning," he murmurs, kissing Orange's temple.

"Ughhh," he groans. "Turn the sun off."

Hook laughs. "Would if I could," he says, rubbing lazy circles against Orange's lower back. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," he mumbles.

Hook hums and runs his fingers through Orange's hair, tucking his face into his neck to block the sun a little more. "Red eyes kinda suck, huh?" He sighs and lightly scritches at Orange's scalp, listening to his breathing change as he settles back into a soft doze.

It only lasts a couple minutes before Orange lifts his head and stares at Hook. "I'm sorry," he says.

Hook blinks. "Huh?"

"Sorry that you had to take a red eye to get away from me," he says, eyes fixed on Hook's face. "I'm so sorry, Hook."

Hook sighs and draws Orange in for a slow, gentle kiss. "Stop apologizing," he murmurs. "I forgave you already. You need to forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Orange says, closing his eyes. "I pushed Trent and Kris away, I tried destroying us, I can't-"

"Trent and Kris made their choices," Hook says. "And so did I." He taps Orange on the nose. "In my opinion? I was the only one who made the correct choice."

Orange stares at him. "I love you," he sighs, resting his forehead against Hook's.

"I love you too," Hook says, easily, simple. "I have something for you," he says, reaching over and collecting his mom's envelope. He holds it until Orange eases back and looks down.

"What is it?"

Hook smiles and shrugs. "No clue, you'll have to open it."

Orange exhales and slits the envelope open with his thumbnail, exhaling as he pulls a folded gilt edged paper out of it. "Fancy," he mumbles, unfolding the paper. He then stares at it for a good minute, Hook waiting for him to explain what it is. Say something.

"Whoa, hey, what is it?" Hook asks, concerned when tears well up in Orange's eyes. He's about to grab his phone and call his mom to demand answers when Orange reaches out and latches his fingers around Hook's wrist, holding him in place.

"It's an invitation to family dinner," he says with a soft laugh, wiping at his eyes. "At my earliest convenience."

Hook's shoulders immediately relax and he scoots closer to Orange to stare at his mom's handwriting. "Oh," he says softly.

"And she says I can bring a plus one," he says. "Huh, now I have to decide who to bring. Hmm, maybe Willow."

Hook scoffs, squinting at him until Orange breaks out into soft laughter. "That's not fair," Hook mumbles with a pout. "She'd probably like Willow more than she likes me."

Orange chuckles, shaking his head. "I doubt it." He presses his lips to Hook's forehead, his nose, before finally meeting his lips, kissing the pout off of him. "I would never go anywhere without you anyway."

Hook hums, resting his head on Orange's shoulder. "Well, that's good," he mumbles, playing with Orange's fingers. "Uh, Mom dropped off one other thing."

"Oh?"

Hook looks a little sheepish as he sits back up, brushing at his nose nervously. "Um, yeah," he says, his eyes flickering around the room before resting back on Orange's face. "I guess I should explain a little first. Um, you know when I was a kid, Dad traveled a lot, and I didn't always get to spend a lot of time with him." Orange nods and Hook takes a breath. "Well, uh, he always made sure we at least had a day together on the first weekend of September, though, because that's when a local Italian festival was scheduled at the beach. There was always music, and a lot of food stalls, and then the carnival." Hook smiles, his gaze far away as he remembers it. "Uh, I was too small for the rides for a long time, and Dad wasn't really a big fan of them anyway, so we never really did those much, but there were all of these carnival games and he knew I liked 'em. So he would save up quarters while he was on the road, and we'd take them to the carnival and just blow all of them on these games. It's some of the best memories I have with him when I was a kid."

Orange smiles, then watches as Hook leans over and scoops up the plastic container his mom had given him. "Mom told me these are from Dad," he says, rubbing his fingers anxiously over the black lid.

"Damn," Orange blinks, staring down at the container. "How many quarters are in there?"

Hook shrugs. "At least $50." He takes a breath, watching Orange. "Uh, the festival is going on right now, it's the last day, so... I mean, if you feel up for it, maybe we could go for a little bit, I don't know, it's up to you."

Orange searches Hook's face for a moment, then nods. "Let's go."

Hook's eyes widen. "Really? I know yesterday wasn't great, and you're still kind of tired-" He's quieted when Orange leans in and kisses him again, making his eyes flutter shut as he reaches up to cradle the back of Orange's head, deepening the kiss.

After a couple of minutes, Orange eases back and brushes his nose against Hook's. "Let's go," he repeats, smiling when Hook opens his eyes and gazes back at him.

"Yeah, ok," he breathes out. "Let's go."

After they get dressed and grab a quick breakfast, they head out, Hook carefully putting the container of quarters in his backpack before looping it over his shoulders. He looks up in time to spot the blank look on Orange's face and remembers that he's lost his own thanks to that asshole Jericho, who seemingly can't keep his hands off of their property. "Hey, if you win anything, I'll carry it for you," he promises with a small smile.

"Thanks," he says, shaking his head. "C'mon, let's go." Orange holds the door open for Hook and follows him out, locking it behind them. They walk side by side to the car, and Hook slides into the driver's seat before leaning in, kissing him quickly with a wink that warms Orange sufficiently before winding his way out of the parking garage, beginning the trip to the beach.

The weather is beautiful and even though there are a lot of people filling every area of the festival, they don't let it hinder them as they put their sunglasses on and head in to the madness. "So where to first?" Orange asks, leaning into Hook's warmth to ask, watching as he looks around.

"Uh, maybe we should just walk around for awhile," he says. "Figure things out. I haven't been here in so long, I barely remember what all's here. Or how to navigate all of this." He looks a little sheepish. "Dad always knew where everything was."

Orange nods, unbothered, and reaches out, lacing their fingers together. "Alright," he says. "Let's do that."

It's nice, either way, just taking in the sights, listening to the music playing just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. Hook keeps waiting for fans to notice, or recognize them- especially Orange- but if they do, they keep to themselves. Or just can't reach them in the crowd. Either way, it's a nice, peaceful way to kill some time until Hook feels a little more comfortable, the two of them eventually finding their way to the cars being displayed by a local club. They wander around a bit, taking it all in, and by the time they've reached the other side of the lot, Hook feels confident enough to lead Orange over towards where they can hear kids screaming and familiar music playing.

"Carnival time?" Orange asks as they cross the street dividing the two areas.

"Yeah," Hook says, stopping to look at him. "Is that ok? I, uh. I think that, and then we can get some food. And, uh. Decide from there if we want to do anything else or go home and relax for awhile." Neither of them are fans of crowds, and he's pretty sure they'll both hit their limit sooner rather than later.

"Yeah," Orange says, lips twitching up into a soft smile. "Sounds good."

Hook nods, squeezing his hand. "Good." He smiles back.

They start off playing a dart throwing game, which Hook is unfairly good at, only missing a couple of times where the balloons had been scattered too far apart by the people who've played before him, and Orange misses most because his throws are too lackluster, despite the encouragement by the friendly lady running the booth. Orange ends up with a small straight faced emoji plushie that he says reminds him of Hook, who rolls his eyes at him before obligingly putting it in the backpack next to his own silly looking purple elephant. They then continue on, looking at the other games that line the road.

"Oh shit," Orange says suddenly. "They have skee-ball."

Hook glances over at him, then back at the games. "You would like that," he says dryly, before following him over. Orange mulls over the set up while Hook plays first, throwing the balls a little too hard, a little too fast, and just barely hitting a 30 that takes him up to 90 points. Just shy of the 100 required to win a prize. He shrugs and starts to wander off to see what Orange is doing when the guy manning it tosses him a green snake toy. Hook blinks, startled. "Thanks," he manages before putting it in his backpack and making his way over to Orange. "Hey."

"Hey." Orange glances over at the guy, then back at Hook. "Win something?"

Hook makes a face. "Pity prize, I was 10 points away from the goal."

"Oh." Orange goes back to examining the game while Hook waits patiently next to him, hands in his pockets. "Hey, uh-" He stops short, realizing Hook already has the quarters out, handing him four quarters to get the full amount of balls for the game. "Thanks." He smiles at Hook and turns to begin playing. He takes his time and probably annoys the guy manning the booth, but it pans out as he gets a couple of 30s. Then he shifts as he throws just enough and the ball swoops up high enough to hit the 50 at the very top.

"Well, damn," Hook says, impressed. "Can you hit the 100 pointer in the corner?"

"Probably not," Orange says, but he tries, once. It comes close, but goes just a couple of inches too wide and swoops back down into the 10 pointer.

By the end of it, he gets a soft blue bear wearing sunglasses and Hook smirks, giving it a couple of squeezes as he puts it in his backpack with the others. "We keep this up, we're going to run out of space to carry anything else."

In the end, it doesn't matter, they try a couple other games, but they aren't successful at any of them. "Well," Hook says, looking at the remaining quarters. "We have like... $10 left. Wanna split them and try the quarter machine?"

Orange makes a face when he sees the game Hook means, but shrugs. "Alright," he says, following Hook over. They find a couple of decent looking slots next to each other and settle in side by side, trying to knock more quarters out so they can continue playing. Hook lasts a little longer than Orange and even succeeds at getting a red token to drop, but the quarters dwindle quickly so once the last of the quarters are gone, he trades the token in for a silly wind-up set of teeth, playfully snapping them at Orange as he laughs at him.

"Well, now what?" Orange asks as they leave the carnival area and head back to the main part of the festival. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am," Hook says, glancing around. "Let's find those food tents, get some pasta."

Orange and he wander around for awhile before they spot them, getting in line. "Pasta after playing at a carnival feels kinda strange," he admits while they wait in line.

Hook nudges him. "Never know what's going to happen when you go out with me, huh?"

"Yeah, I like it though." They exchange glances, Hook smiling brightly, and Orange presses into him, content to wait a little longer for the food as Hook plays with his fingers, the line slowly moving until they're up.

"Wanna split manicotti and penne?" Hook asks.

"Sure," Orange murmurs. "Sounds good."

"Alright." He handles ordering while Orange picks drinks for them from a cooler off to the side of the tent, the two of them meeting back up to wait for the food to be dished out for them. Once they have their bowls, they walk over to a bench that's thankfully empty and settle in, Hook dropping the backpack next to him with a soft sigh, handing over a fork to Orange. They take their turns eating from one bowl or the other, Hook biting back a smile when Orange makes a soft, appreciative noise at the first bite of the manicotti. "Good?"

"Very," he says, ducking his head a little.

Hook chuckles. "Good."

Orange glances over at him after a bit. "We're going to do this again next year, right?"

Hook blinks. "I... yeah, I mean, if you want to," he says, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest at the confident way Orange is speaking of their future. Of still being together in a year to do all of this over again.

"Yeah, I do."

"Great," Hook whispers, clearing his throat. "Then we'll do that."

They finish eating and Hook is considering ordering some cannolis for the trip home, but Orange wanders off towards another food tent and Hook follows him, curious. "Oh," he says with a small laugh when he realizes that Orange is enthralled watching big wispy cotton candy being formed right before their very eyes. He looks up and shrugs at the woman watching them. "We'll take two," he says, fishing out his wallet for the final time.

They eat them as they make their way back to where they'd parked the car, Hook huffing as it clings to his lips and tries to get in his hair when the wind blows the wrong way, Orange snickering next to him. It's messy and sticky. It's perfect.

-x

Orange drives them home and it gives Hook time to think while he finishes off what remains of the cotton candy, sneaking little tufts of it into Orange's mouth at red lights. They arrive back at the apartment and Orange unlocks the front door, Hook fumbling for the light as he hovers close to Orange's back. Once he finds it and the room brightens enough for them to see, Hook shuts the door behind them and grips Orange by the arm, turning him until they're face to face.

"Hook?" Orange murmurs, watching him.

Hook smiles and cradles his jaw, searching his eyes before leaning in and kissing him. Easing back, he takes Orange by the hand. "Come with me," he says softly, leading him down the hall into their bedroom.

"Hmm?" Orange hums, following after him.

Hook slows to a stop at the foot of their bed and turns to look at Orange. "I, uh. I want you to know I appreciate how patient you've been with me," he says, tracing his fingers up Orange's palm to his wrist, stroking his skin gently. "I don't know if I, uh... I mean, I've been impatient with myself the last couple of weeks, I can only imagine how you've been feeling."

"Hook, you deserve time," Orange says, brushing some of the hair out of Hook's eyes. "You've had a shitty summer, and it all kind of came to a head at All In. I don't blame you for needing some space to think."

Hook exhales. "On some level I know you're right, but every other part of me is saying that you deserve better."

Orange shakes his head. "I don't deserve anything from you, you already give me everything I need."

Hook stares at him, his lips twitching up into a soft little smile as he reaches out and brushes his hand slowly over Orange's shirt, teasing at its hem. "May I?" he asks, and Orange's eyes widen as he nods, watching. Hook slips his fingers under the shirt, lifting it up and over Orange's head. "Hm," he sighs, skimming his knuckles over Orange's ribs. Down to his stomach, back up to his pecs. "I've been so scared of doing something wrong, making you feel like I was about to leave again or something," he admits. "Nothing made sense after All In. I really did think I was losing everything. But today, you talking about us going to the festival next year..." He leans in and presses a lingering kiss to Orange's collar, slowly sinking lower down his chest, feeling Orange's stuttery breaths under his fingers and lips, slow building arousal heightening the moment as he toys with the waistband of Orange's jeans. "It's the most certainty I've felt about the future- our future- in a long time. You know what I mean?"

"I do," Orange murmurs, reaching down and gently brushing his fingers over Hook's jaw. "I'm sorry I ever made you doubt us."

Hook unbuttons Orange's pants and tugs them down his legs before helping him balance as he kicks them away. They stare at each other, breathing in sync, hunger growing the longer they let the moment linger, until finally Hook presses a hand to Orange's sternum, gently pushing him onto the bed. As he climbs up to straddle him, Orange rasps his hands over Hook's clothes, scoffing at how naked he is in comparison. "Just a minute," Hook murmurs, taking his time re-introducing himself to the feel of Orange's bare skin under his hands, how well they still fit together.

Orange forces himself to wait, be patient, until Hook sits up and guides Orange's hands under his shirt, grazing up his ribs. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Hook murmurs. "I am." He exhales as Orange eases his shirt off, lightly ghosting his fingers over Hook's bare skin. Their eyes meet and Hook smiles, breathing shakily. "I missed this," he admits.

"Me too," Orange echoes, watching as Hook shifts upwards, Orange obligingly curling his fingers in Hook's sweatpants and guiding them down his legs, Hook taking over and kicking them off the rest of the way once they're low enough. He exhales slowly as Hook stretches out over him once he's undressed, running his fingers through Orange's hair and leaning in to kiss him. "Hook..."

Hook nuzzles into him, sighing. "Orange," he mumbles, fingers tracing slowly down Orange's body, relearning the feel of him, every little spot that makes him react, staring intently into his eyes as he goes. "I love you."

"I love you too," Orange responds, breaths stuttering and slow as Hook leans back in and kisses him again, cupping his jaw and holding him steadily against the pillows while the soft strokes of his other hand leaves Orange gasping, his body so sensitive to any kind of ministrations, his lips parting enough that Hook shivers in kind, the kisses they share growing more hungry, desperate.

Hook shifts, digging his knees into Orange's hips, their bodies pressed flush together perfectly, and he groans out Orange's name, intent and adoring as he resumes kissing him.

Orange wraps an arm around Hook's shoulders, holding him close, the heat between them building steadily, encouraged by Hook's explorations, his kisses. "Hook," he sighs.

Hook reluctantly pulls away and presses his forehead to Orange's, staring deeply into his eyes. "Tell me," he whispers. "Please tell me again."

Orange stares up at him, eyes a little dazed as Hook continues to tease along his thighs, warmth building steadily through his veins as he gasps and bites his lip, trying to think. "In a year," he says. "We're going to be right here in this bed, after another fun day spent at the Italian festival, playing carnival games and eating too much pasta. The only thing that's going to change is I'm going to love you even more than I do right now."

Hook exhales shakily and nods, staring at him with wet, happy eyes. "Yes," he breathes out. "I want all of that. So damn bad." He leans in and kisses Orange again, shivering when Orange parts his lips immediately to welcome him in and Hook takes advantage of the opportunity, tasting him, sighing softly. When he pulls away, he gives himself a second to catch his breath. "You taste like cotton candy," he says, a burst of laughter startled out of him when Orange huffs and abruptly flips their positions, settling comfortably between Hook's legs.

"So do you," he says, taking over the teasing touches and making Hook squirm deliciously underneath him.

Yeah... Hook thinks, staring up at Orange as he dips in for another breathtaking kiss. We're going to be just fine.