It's not been an easy week. Hook spends a lot of his free time staring off into the distance, the footage of his father's attack haunting him. As relieved as he is to finally have answers, a selfish part of him wishes he hadn't seen it. He tries to focus whenever Orange is around, but he too seems lost in thought, which considering everything that's happened since Wrestle Dream, he can't blame him. Hook wishes guys like Garcia would get off Orange's case for a little bit, let him come around to things in his own way, at his own speed.
Hook drops his head back against the couch cushions and breathes, still remembering- his father, on the pavement next to his car, Nick Wayne standing at his feet, Christian leaning over him, silver briefcase slamming down against his knee and- Hook gasps, moving to grasp at the collar of the person leaning over him, just to freeze, recognizing the feel of denim clenched tightly in his hands. "Orange?" he breathes out.
"Yeah, just me," Orange says, curling his fingers around Hook's wrists, soothing, steady. "It's late. We should..." He hesitates. "Do you want to go to bed?"
He doesn't. Not at all. But he knows that Orange won't sleep if he's not there, not with everything he's going through too, so Hook stands. "Yeah, alright," he mumbles. "Let's go."
He tries, but he's restless, spends more time staring up into the shadows than actually sleeping. He can't get the footage out of his mind. He hasn't talked about it, Orange only knows he's seen it, not what it contained. He also hasn't pushed Hook to talk about it, which is a relief. Hook can barely make sense of it mentally, but trying to verbalize it? Yeah, not happening.
Hook and Orange both have separate goals upon arriving at the arena the next day, Orange pausing when Hook rests a hand on his chest before they can part at the fork in the hallway. "Hey," he says quietly, searching Orange's face. "Take care, alright? I'll be around if you need me."
Orange nods, leaning in to kiss him. "You too," he tells him quietly before turning to the left, back towards where Chuck is standing, watching.
Hook gazes after him for a few moments before turning and heading back into a quieter part of the arena where he can think, wait for the opportunity he needs to confront Christian. He's alone for awhile, not really paying attention to what's happening on the show. At some point, Orange appears and sits next to him, and Hook thinks maybe Chuck has been on his case, or Mark's match didn't go well, or both, so he lets Orange have this moment of reprieve from it all. It somewhat feels like early days after they began teaming together, when they would sit next to each other quietly for hours and not speak, just looking for a break from their separate realities. Except this time he doesn't have doritos or some other snack for them to share, so he offers all that he does have, which is quiet companionship and body heat, their arms pressed close together.
Then he catches sight of Kip Sabian chasing Christian past one of the hallways leading towards the ring and he's up on his feet before he can think it through, Orange frowning up at him. "Hook?"
"I gotta go," Hook mumbles. He's gone before Orange can say anything, walking determinedly to the ring. He tries, he really does, rage flowing through his veins. He fights off Nick Wayne. He gets his hands on Christian, in the process of demanding answers when a sharp pain buckles his knees, sending him writhing to the ring. He instinctively moves, locks in the Redrum on Nick as he tries to hit him from the top rope, but then there's a second, blinding pain between his shoulderblades drilling up his neck into his skull, and he's downed again.
He's unbalanced, in agony, as he's dragged up to his feet and then everything goes hazy, dark after another blast of pain through his skull. He thinks he can feel fingers in his hair, maybe someone saying his first name, but none of it makes sense.
He comes to to the doctor leaning over him, and blinks sluggishly as he's carefully walked backstage. Orange greets him, a concerned look on his face, and Hook's relieved when Orange lifts his arm and drapes it over his shoulder, taking over for one of the staff in walking Hook back.
Orange is still holding his hand as they look him over, the main event droning on from a monitor overhead, when he tenses up. Hook squints up at the TV too and realizes as Yuta and Claudio interrupt- then... "Shit," Orange whispers, before letting go of Hook and rushing out of the room.
All Hook can do is lay there, still more than a little dizzy, and try to watch on the monitor as Mox drags Chuck out to the ring, throwing him unceremoniously in to Yuta and Claudio. It's too late- Orange is just a few moments too late to stop it as Claudio stomps the chair over Chuck's neck. Hook can't look away from the frozen look of shock and denial on Orange's face as his hands hover uselessly over the chair wrapped grotesquely around his best friend's neck. The screen goes black and everyone remaining in the medical office just hovers there, awkwardly. After awhile, Hook hears as they carefully push Chuck backstage on a stretcher, using the distraction to ease his legs over the side of the bed, gingerly getting to his feet.
Each step hurts, he has to hold on to the wall to make his way out into the hall. He arrives just in time for Orange to make his way back and he falters, looking back and forth between the ambulance that Chuck is getting loaded into and Hook, some of the anger fading from his expression. He reaches out for Hook and tucks him in close. "What are you doing?"
"Needed to see you," Hook mumbles. "Chuck..."
"It's not good," Orange says, tense. "I need to go with him." He pulls back and stares into Hook's eyes. "Will you be ok?"
"Yeah. I'll be ok. Don't worry." He grips Orange's wrists and tries to look steadier than he feels, not wanting to put more weight on Orange's shoulders, worry in his tired eyes.
Orange frowns, and Hook thinks he's failed. Sure enough, Orange looks up, over Hook's head. "Kyle, can you get him back to the hotel? Make sure he's alright? I gotta see what's going on with Chuck."
"Of course," Kyle says, walking up and gingerly resting a hand on Hook's bare shoulder.
Hook's not sure where his shirt went after he tore it off, and there's still a stinging pain from where Christian had struck him to get him off of Nick, but he bears it, staring at Orange. "Orange." He's not even sure what to say, nothing's making a lot of sense right now.
Orange leans forward and kisses him. "I don't think I'll be able to stay with him for long," he says. "They'll probably make me leave once they get him settled in a room, since it's so late. I just.. I need to be there."
"I understand," Hook says, leaning into him, kissing him back. "It'll be ok."
Orange shakes his head, kisses Hook again. "Take care of him," he says to Kyle, who nods. "I'll see you later." He strokes Hook's jaw quickly, then turns to rush after the stretcher.
Hook and Kyle watch him go, then exchange glances. "Are you ok?" Kyle asks after a moment. "What'd the doc say?"
"To keep an eye out for concussion, but they think I'm ok. Just kinda hurt all over," Hook sighs. "Wanna get out of here."
"Sounds good to me," Kyle says, glancing around. "Mark left earlier so I can go whenever. C'mon."
It's weird, Hook thinks, he doesn't know Kyle that well, and although when Kyle's with Mark, he gets really excitable and hard to keep up with, when it's just the two of them, he's a lot calmer and Hook can understand why he and Orange get along well. The guy seems to shift to best compliment those around him, an emotional chameleon of sorts. Hook isn't really sure what to make of it.
Still, he's relieved for Kyle when they arrive at the hotel and Kyle helps him to the elevator. The ride does nothing for the slight dizziness that's lingering, but he makes it to his and Orange's room without too much trauma, even manages to get the door unlocked and open with no huge hassle. He stumbles into the room and collapses onto the bed, kicking his shoes off haphazardly before squirming up to the pillows. "Thanks," he mumbles, staring at Kyle.
"You're welcome," Kyle says. "Alright if I hang out for awhile? I know Orange said it'd be late probably when he gets back, and I don't know how comfortable I am leaving you alone right now."
"Yeah, sure," Hook mumbles. "Won't be good company, I just wanna try to sleep. But uh, you can watch some TV. Noise won't bother me."
Kyle nods. "That's fine, thanks," he says, taking the remote when Hook offers it to him.
Hook drifts off at some point to the soft murmurs coming from the TV, finally finding a reprieve from the nagging soreness and dizziness that hasn't eased off yet.
When he wakes up, the room is pitch dark. He hears murmuring behind him and it takes a moment for him to realize it's Orange and Kyle talking softly by the door.
"He's been asleep for the last few hours," Kyle is telling Orange. "Think he's ok, but you know, if the dizziness continues, ..."
"Yeah. I'll keep an eye on him. Thanks, Kyle."
"Stay strong, Orange. We'll talk soon."
Hook listens as the door opens, then shuts loudly with an echoing thud, Orange quietly padding up to the bed a few moments later. He rests a hand on Hook's back, gently smoothing the sheets over him, and exhales softly before crawling into bed next to him. Hook blinks into the still silence for a bit before rolling over and nuzzling into Orange.
"Hey," Orange murmurs, kissing his forehead. "How are you feeling?"
Hook groans, then shakes his head. "Any news?"
Orange also shakes his head and they both take a moment to digest both facts, holding onto each other. "He has to be ok," Orange mumbles.
Hook nods, brushing a hand up and down Orange's side. "He will be," he mumbles. "And my dad will be too. And in the meanwhile, we'll do what we need to do."
Orange stares down at him, and Hook lifts his head enough to meet his gaze. "Yeah," Orange says, voice heavy, gaze dark. "We will."