#ftr “chipped teeth and split lips” is where my brain was like. :) done!

[jacksprostate]

Tyler is hopping around on his pogo stick again. When he lands, it's with a mushy thump as he sinks into the rotting floorboards. Sometimes he gets stuck and just tips over instead of bouncing back up. It makes him stumble and jump ship. Moment of perfection ruined.

I need to renew my driver's license, I say.

"What are you telling me for?"

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

If Tyler's bed had a backboard, this is how it would sound before he and Marla pounded through to the next room.

I am Jack's throat of bile.

"Fine," Tyler says. "We'll go."

I do not say, we? Questioning Tyler is an amateur move I've managed to avoid for two months now.

Getting to the DMV takes three buses and a thirty minute walk. Presumably, they've decided you'll be driving there. Sometimes I think about the Audi I had before my Dakapo halogen torchiere speared it. One of Zeus' modern day lightning bolts, making sure the debris from my exploded condo totaled my car.

I could've gotten the windshield replaced. Somewhere, in a junkyard filled with unloved 50s salvage, there's the crushed up cube remains of this year's luxury sedan.

Tyler spends the entire time walking one half step behind me, making me lead him around. It makes me feel blind, like I'm a thirty year old boy still trying to get his father to take him places. I am the world's most easily played instrument. Whenever I look back he's grinning, chipped teeth and split lips.

It's a Saturday and we've arrived two hours or so after opening. This means that when I get my ticket stub, it reads an obscenely high number. I will be sitting here for the next six hours. Give or take.

The thing about seating in a government building is they know you have no choice to be there for at least two hours, if you're lucky. Naturally, the chairs are cheap, yawning plastic bolted into the floor at a height most optimal for slightly tall seven year olds.

Tyler and I toss ourselves into the only two person gap we can find, between a large man giving Bob a run for his money on hormone reversal and a frail woman in her eighties. Both look like I'd see them on a weeknight. I wonder if this is where Marla lurks in the time between when she's fucking Tyler and fucking up my support groups.

"You don't need this shit," Tyler says.

He's slouching into the chair, arms crossed and legs long and in the way. If I were to look where his shirt is rucked up, I'd see his skin disappear into the dark gap between his chiseled hip and the beige slacks he puts on when he pretends he's pretending to be a nice person. It's an obvious farce, since he hasn't even bothered to put underwear on.

This is one of those things that I try not to think too hard about, but I have something like four hundred minutes left to wait around here. I should've brought a few National Geographics.

I need a driver's license for my job, Tyler, I say. The old woman gives me a look.

"Christ." Tyler spits on the floor. I try not to be jealous. My seat neighbor, she gets right up and goes to the other end of the building. "Just roll over, why don't you."

I can tell, this will be a lesson. He gets this huge sureness about himself, like his dick is so big it's slapped his face into that smug false contemplation.

I need some kind of ID, Tyler.

Tyler says, "No you don't. Your bank already has you by the balls with your social security number. You ride the bus around. You're at the airport so often the airline staff recognize you. You only drive when work sends you to a small town, which happens fuck all three times a year. Tell me, you get a good fake, you think the overworked and underpaid car rental employee writing down your information would notice it unless you crashed his car? You know if that happened it'd be because you did it to kill yourself, so where's the problem?"

You could be a perfect driver and die on the road at any second, I protest.

We're attracting attention. Not Bob shifts around. Our conversation is quiet but unnerving.

Tyler says, "Does it feel nice, signing yourself up like a feedlot steer?"

Fucking hell, Tyler. It's not like anyone wants to do this. No one wants to be here. Not everyone can work three night shifts and have no identity according to the government.

Tyler says, "The only thing stopping you is the little set of rules you've set up for yourself."

What does Tyler know about my ability to do things?

"More than you," Tyler says. "You didn't think you could fight. You didn't think you could live without your perfect IKEA nest."

He's right. I still want to kick him to the floor and introduce his teeth to the tile. I notice, Not Bob has cleared the area. Retreat to safety. Bomb detonation in five, four. We've got a three seat berth on each side with people standing packed against the walls of the place.

A lone security guard floats our way.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

It's not the way that the men at fight club have started calling me sir. The security guard is looking at me like he knows about my condo blowing up, and he feels awfully sure about the cause.

I need to renew my driver's license.

Tyler says, "If we pay taxes for this building, these workers, doesn't that mean we pay your salary? You're going to kick out your kindest boss?"

"If you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."

Tyler says, "Can't even do it yourself?"

I think, every second of this day has been excruciating, and I have been awake for 77 hours.

Tyler socks the security guard right in the jaw, and the crowd goes wild.

It happens like this: Tyler hits the security guard with all four knuckles, all the people start screaming, and the security guard goes for his gun. I am standing in the middle of this hurricane, calm like a baby that's just been left in the car in 90 degree weather. I start walking.

Behind me, Tyler wrestles for the gun. He tosses it towards the kiosk that spat out my waiting ticket. He lets the security guard hit him in the gut. The face. The face again. He's on the ground, bloody spit threading his rebroken smile, and the security guard is kicking him in the gut. Tyler curls into a ball, the security guard kicks him in the kidneys. This will give Tyler bruises like size thirteen boots and make him piss blood for three weeks.

I reach the door, and Tyler's crawling after me. The security guard has come out of his haze, and now the crowd is staring at him. The headline: local DMV worker brutally bludgeons mentally ill constituent. People stare at him, now aware of the violence he is capable of. They wonder. He wonders.

Tyler limps out the door. We get on the bus and the driver stares at us and does not make us pay when we walk past him to the seats. The driver had a black eye. We saw him at fight club last week.

We sit, and I tell Tyler, because of him I'm definitely on a list now. Like they had for all those communists, but now it's for schizophrenics who might bomb their local state Department of Motor Vehicles location. I tell him if I get a letter saying I have to show up in court because I beat up a government worker, I'm sending him, and he can have fun explaining that to whatever rancid old judge presides over our case.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 13

Did I scare y’all making you wait nearly a week for this part? Truth be told, I STRUGGLED with this you guys. I got in my own head about it and then once I figured it out Tumblr decided to be a total dick and not save my work... but phew. It’s here! HUGE shout-out to my co-writer @what-does-mine-say for writing the final scene for this DAYS ago, because otherwise this part still wouldn’t be done. Please go give her a follow if you haven’t already.

Also I’m still kind of in my head about this part so I hope you all like it k bye.

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 13/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: ANGST, language, alcohol use

Word Count: 3.8k

Catch up on previous parts here.

Alex rolled over, half-asleep, and reached out for Cash—but she didn’t find him. She opened her eyes. He wasn’t there. The covers of the bed were flung back, the sheet and pillow wrinkled from where he’d been. But before she could wonder where he’d gone, the smell of coffee hit her nose.

She swung her feet to the floor and climbed out of bed, padding down the hall of Cash’s house in nothing but her underwear and one of his t-shirts. She found him in the kitchen making breakfast. Her smile nearly split her face in two.

“Are you making me pancakes?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “No, go back to bed! I was trying to surprise you!”

Alex’s heart nearly exploded when she heard that. “Babe! Really?” She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and placed a kiss on his bare shoulder. “You did surprise me.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He turned around in her grip and pulled her close. “I wanted to do something nice for you to make up for Wednesday.”

Alex smiled. “Trust me, you’ve more than made up for it.” She reached up and gently stroked her fingers along the nape of his neck, playing with his hair like she had that night in front of the fire. He hummed as closed his eyes.

“Come on, you know what that does to me,” he breathed.

“I know,” she teased. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“Mm.” He bent his head forward and hungrily kissed her neck. Alex bit back a giggle as his beard tickled her, and then a moan when he nipped her skin; but the pancakes suddenly started to sizzle on the griddle.

“I think the pancakes are burning,” she said.

“Shit!” Cash whirled around and quickly flipped them with the spatula. “See, you’re a distraction,” he smirked at her. “Maybe it’s a good thing I won’t be at Dynamite this week. You’d get me in even more trouble.”

Alex frowned when he said that. “Don’t remind me you won’t be there this week,” she muttered.

After the “beer dumping incident,” as they’d come to call it, Cody had individually called both Cash and Dax and told them they wouldn’t be on either Dynamite or Dark that upcoming week. As soon as Cash had told Alex the news, she’d decided to fly back down to Florida early and spend the next few days at his place in Orlando; she didn’t want to go that long without seeing him. And, ironically, Cash seemed to be taking the whole thing better than she was.

“It is what it is,” he said with a shrug. “Kenny’s just flexing his EVP muscle ‘cause he’s mad I got the girl.”

He sent her a crooked grin. She returned it with an unamused stare. “Cash…” she warned.

“I know, I know,” he relented. “You don’t want me to rub salt in a wound. But tell me I’m wrong.”

Alex bit her lip, trying hard not to smile. It was sexy how cocky he was being—and he knew it.

He turned off the burner and took her by the hips, pulling her into him. His voice came out breathy as he spoke in between kisses on her neck. “Kenny’s mad because he knows you’re in my bed”—kiss—“in my shirt”—kiss—“grabbing my hair and saying my name.”

He squeezed her ass, and Alex let out a whimper of pleasure. But she didn’t want to give into him that easily. “You’re gonna have to make waffles too if you don’t stop.”

He smiled against her skin. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. With chocolate chips.”

“Well we’re gonna have to work up an appetite, then.”

She let out a surprised yelp as he picked her up, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. And that time, Alex was more than willing to give in. The pancakes could wait.

* * * * * * * * * *

If there was anywhere Kenny didn’t want to be right now, it was in Jacksonville at Daily’s Place. He had half a mind to just get up and leave; he didn’t even have a match that week. But he couldn’t leave. He was an EVP; he had responsibilities. But even so, he was just going through the motions. He had been for weeks. And every week, he was finding it harder and harder to care.

His apathy had started to become obvious to his colleagues, and especially to his friends. Thankfully, Matt and Nick didn’t push him or ask any questions—not after he’d let slip that he was in love with Alex. Kenny was almost certain they pitied him. Why wouldn’t they? He had to see the woman he loved with another man every single fucking week.

But Kenny didn’t pity himself; he was angry with himself. Angry for not fighting harder for Alex. But, then again, she hadn’t really given him a chance. She’d turned tail and run to Cash after one bad day even though he’d told her he wanted to change for her. Those weren’t just words—he’d meant it with his entire being. But Alex hadn’t given him a chance to prove it. And over the last few weeks, Kenny had started to wonder how much of that was her own decision… and how much of it was outside influence.

The door to the locker room opened; Kenny tried not to roll his eyes when Adam walked in. Speaking of outside influence.

“Hey,” Adam said. He looked confused to see him there. “Have you just been sitting in here by yourself?”

Kenny’s answer was clipped. “Yeah.”

Adam blinked. “Okay.” He moved over to his bag and pulled out his wrist tape. It seemed like there was something else he wanted to say but wasn’t sure if he should. It irked Kenny.

“What?” he shot. “Is there somewhere I should be?”

Adam’s eyebrows arched as he started wrapping the black tape around his wrists. “No; you can do whatever the fuck you want. But you’re usually in production during the show so I was surprised to see you here.”

Kenny didn’t say anything in return. But then Adam spoke up again.

“There is something you should do, though,” he started. “You should talk to Alex.”

At first, Kenny thought he was joking. But the look on Adam’s face communicated that he was dead serious. It angered him. He couldn’t believe Adam of all people would suggest that. “Why would I talk to Alex?”

“Because she thinks it was your call to keep FTR off TV this week,” Adam returned. “She thinks you’re being petty about what happened with the beer. You should go tell her it was Tony’s decision.”

Kenny bit down on his jaw. He’d had a feeling Alex might think he was the reason FTR didn’t have a match this week. But that was none of Adam’s business. “Oh, so now you want to try to patch things up between me and Alex? What’s changed?”

Adam paused what he was doing to glare at him. “I just figured you’d want her to know the truth.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” Kenny charged. “You sure it’s not because you’re feeling guilty about something?”

Anger flashed across Adam’s face. But if he had anything to say, he left it unsaid. He used his teeth to rip off the tape from the roll and tossed it back into his bag. “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. My match is next.” He stood and crossed the room; but before he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Alex is in the lounge with Callie. Man up and talk to her.”

He exited before Kenny could say anything in response. It was a good thing, too, because Kenny had nothing nice to say. Who the hell did he think he was, telling him to man up? When was he going to “man up” and admit that he’d invited Cash to that cookout on purpose?

He sat there for a while, stewing in his own anger. And, eventually, it got to the point where he couldn’t just sit there anymore. He pushed himself off the couch and went out the door, moving purposefully toward the lounge. Alex was sitting with Callie and Best Friends in front of the TV watching Adam’s match against Five from Dark Order. They all stared at him when he walked in.

“Can I talk to you?” he said to Alex.

She hesitated. But eventually she said, “Sure.”

He didn’t wait for her to get up before he turned and walked back out into the hall. He moved a few feet from the door to give them some privacy. When he turned back around, Alex was staring up at him with those big hazel eyes of hers, anxiety written all over her face. Kenny hated it. He hated that that was what he did to her now. He wanted to fix it.

He let out a breath. “I just wanted to tell you that it wasn’t my call to keep FTR off TV this week. It was Tony’s.”

She seemed surprised to hear that. “Oh. Well… did Tony talk to you about it?”

He shook his head. “No. Not until after. I mean, he hadn’t told them yet, but… he’d already made up his mind.” He paused. “I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to… I don’t know. Undercut FTR. Or you.”

Alex looked away, and for a second Kenny worried that she wouldn’t believe him or find another way to make his fault. But then she looked back up at him and said, “To be honest, that was what I thought you were trying to do. So thank you for telling me.”

Relief flooded him. That was all he’d needed to hear. “Sure,” he said. He started to walk away—but Alex put a hand on his arm. He looked back at her. Her eyes were full of remorse.

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t okay with what they did last week. But I’ve been wracking my brain ever since it happened and… why did you go out there? Were you honestly going to have a drink with them?”

Kenny’s face fell. “Honestly? No. I went out there to hit Cash with the cooler. But I thought better of it as soon as I got to the ring. I don’t know,” he shrugged and looked away. “I figured I shouldn’t do anything to push you away any further.”

That was the truth. He hadn’t wanted to make amends with Cash last week—he’d wanted to hit him right in his stupid face with that fucking cooler. But Alex had already rejected him. He didn’t want to make her hate him, too.

“You didn’t push me away, Kenny.”

He looked back at her. She was frowning. It confused him. “Well then what the hell happened, Alex? Because I have no idea.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye as she answered. “I told you. I was afraid things would just be the same as last time.”

“And I told you I wanted to change for you!” he returned. “Those weren’t just words, Alex! I meant it! And I would’ve proven it to you if you’d just given me the chance!”

He’d tried his best to keep his voice down, but he couldn’t help it. He was so fucking frustrated with the situation. But when he saw the look on her face, he wished he could un-say all of it. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

He let out an apologetic breath. “Alex… I’m sorry. I just—”

“Is there something wrong here?” Trent suddenly asked. He and Chuck had both come out of the lounge and were walking toward them now, hard looks on their faces. Kenny rolled his eyes.

“Please, we’re having a private conversation,” he breathed.

“That’s not what it sounds like,” Chuck returned.

It was Alex who let out a noise of frustration that time. “Guys, don’t,” she said to them. “We’re fine.”

Trent gave her a look. “Are you sure?”

She started to answer—but Kenny cut her off. “Trent, why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

His brow lowered. “Are you serious? We could hear you in there yelling at her.”

“Please, just stop,” Alex pleaded; but Kenny spoke over her.

“I wasn’t yelling at her.”

“Well it didn’t sound like you were having a conversation, that’s for damn sure,” Trent said.

Kenny took a step forward—now was not the day to try him—but before anything could happen Callie came running frantically out into the hall. She looked at Kenny. “You need to go help your tag team partner—he’s getting mobbed by all of Dark Order out there.”

Kenny let out another sigh. Honestly, at the moment, he didn’t really care if Adam got his ass beat. But going to help him was better than staying here and dealing with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum being overprotective of Alex. So he turned and begrudgingly took off toward the ring, going slower than he could have.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Dynamite and Dark had both wrapped and most of the roster had cleared out and gone back to the hotel; but Alex was still at the arena. Cash had called her right as she was about to leave and asked her how things had gone, and so she’d found the nearest private room and told him. She’d told him it had been Tony, not Kenny, who’d made the call to keep him and Dax off TV that week. She’d told him how things obviously weren’t okay between Kenny and Adam. They’d avoided each other the rest of the night after Kenny’s blasé attempt to help Adam fend off Dark Order.

But what she hadn’t told him was what Kenny had said to her, about how she hadn’t given him a chance to prove that he wanted to change for her. It wasn’t that Alex wanted to hide it from Cash; she just didn’t see any point in telling him. It would only make the situation more strained than it already was. And besides—Kenny wasn’t wrong. She hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself. And, truth be told, that was something she’d thought about a lot over the last six weeks. Struggled with, even.

But she did her best to put it out of her mind as she pulled her suitcase down the hall toward the exit. She was almost out the door when her phone rang again. She dug it out of her pocket; her brow furrowed in confusion when she Callie’s name on the caller ID. Nevertheless, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Please tell me you’re still at the arena.”

She sounded panicked. “Yeah…” Alex returned. “I was just about to leave. Why?”

“Oh, thank God,” Callie breathed a sigh of relief on the other end. “Could you do me a huge favor? I left my diamond studs on the ledge in the shower in the locker room. Could you get them for me? They were a gift from Adam. He would murder me if he knew I left them there, especially after all the shit that happened tonight.”

Alex smirked to herself. She knew a golden opportunity to mess with someone when she saw it. “Real diamond studs?” She tutted. “How unbelievably negligent of you, Callie. I don’t think Adam would appreciate you forgetting such an expensive and thoughtful gift.”

“Alex,” Callie started; but Alex wasn’t done.

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell him. I can text while you’re still on the line, you know. Hold on—”

“ALEX!” Callie frantically interjected. “You better be joking.”

“Calm down,” Alex assured. “Of course I’m joking. But you owe me.”

There was a pause. And then Callie offered, “I’ll buy you a bag of Sour Patch Kids.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “That’s Trent’s thing. You gotta find something else.”

Callie didn’t say anything in response.

“Headed to the locker room now,” Alex relented.

“Thank you!”

“Uh huh,” she returned, and she ended the call. Callie was legitimately lucky she’d started to like her.

She rolled her suitcase behind her as she made her way to The Elite’s locker room. As everyone else was gone, she didn’t think twice about walking right in without knocking—but she came to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway. Kenny sat sprawled on the couch, staring listlessly up at the ceiling—and there was a whiskey bottle in his hand.

He lifted his head off the back of the couch. He looked just as shocked to see her as she did him. “Alex.” He shifted to sit properly. “What’re you doing here?”

She didn’t answer his question. Instead, she asked, “Have you been drinking?”

There was an amount of concern in her voice that she hadn’t expected. But he shrugged. “Adam shouldn’t leave his liquor lying around.”

Alex was stunned. As far as she knew, Kenny had never had a drop of alcohol in his life. She rushed over and sat next to him. “How much have you had?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he set the bottle on the coffee table. “A few swigs.”

Alex looked into his eyes. She didn’t think he was drunk, but she could tell he was feeling it. She knew he was feeling it when he looked at her and smirked, “Even I can tell that’s the cheap shit.”

She ignored the comment. “Why are you drinking?”

He let out a tired breath. “A lot of reasons.” He leaned back again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You. Adam. Me. Probably mostly me.”

Alex frowned. But before she could say anything, he spoke up again.

“I had a dream about you the other night. We were together. Fucking stupid, right?”

He laughed to himself. It stung her, and before she knew it she said, “It’s not stupid.”

He picked his head back up and looked at her. “Then why aren’t we together in real life?”

Alex opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had. She couldn’t, especially not when he was like this.

But Kenny wanted an answer. “That’s all I want to know, Alex.” He shifted so that he faced her, and his knee bumped against hers. “Just tell me why you picked him because I… I don’t know.”

He looked into her eyes, and Alex suddenly found herself fighting back tears, just like she had when his words had cut into her like a knife outside the lounge. She’d never seen Kenny look so defeated. And knowing she’d done it to him… it was more than she could bear.

Her voice came out choked. “I told you why when I talked to you at the hotel six weeks ago.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

He brow furrowed. “Yes, I—”

“You didn’t, Alex,” he cut her off. His voice was so earnest that she couldn’t help but listen. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t. All you did six weeks ago was use Cash as an excuse to run away from giving me a real chance.”

If his words had cut her before, this time they stabbed her in the heart. He was right, and there was absolutely no denying it. Her eyes welled up and the tears rolled down her cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. Kenny’s face fell.

“No, please don’t cry, baby.” He stopped short, realizing what he’d said. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s the whiskey, I guess.” He ran a hand over his face. “I should go.”

“No.” Alex reached out and touched his arm before he could get up off the couch. It surprised them both. But she genuinely didn’t want him to go. “You’re right. I did run away, and I didn’t give you a fair chance. But I was scared, Kenny.”

His brow furrowed. “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt again! I told you that! I was afraid if I fell for you again that I’d just get burned twice as bad!”

She drew in a breath, suddenly realizing what she’d just said. Kenny’s eyes widened. “If you fell for me again?”

Alex had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could answer. There was no point denying it any longer. “I was in love with you the first time, Kenny. But I just buried it and ignored it because I knew you didn’t feel the same.” She wiped away a tear and looked at the whiskey bottle, suddenly wanting to take a swig herself. And then she realized: Chuck had told her practically the same thing six weeks ago. Now she knew exactly how he’d felt with her. It only made it worse.

“Alex.”

She looked back at Kenny. He gazed into her eyes—and, somehow, she knew exactly what he was going to say.

“I’m in love with you. Present tense.”

It felt like all the air was knocked from Alex’s lungs. She stared back at him, her eyes glassy, lips parted in silent shock. “What?”

He held her gaze. “I’m in love with you,” he said again. “And I know it’s not fair to tell you now, but… I don’t want to leave it unsaid.”

Alex was at a total loss. She didn’t know what to do, what to say, what to even think. The only thing she did know was that he was telling the truth. It was written all over his face.  

Her phone let out a loud sound, cutting through the silence and making her jump. She looked down at the screen. It was a text from Callie. Did you get them?

The earrings. Alex had forgotten all about them. “Shit, Callie’s earrings.”

Kenny gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Callie asked me to get her earrings that she left in the bathroom,” she said as she stood from the couch. “It’s why I came in here.” She practically jumped off the couch and hurried into the bathroom. Thankfully, the earrings were right where Callie had said they were. Alex grabbed them from the ledge in the shower and walked quickly back out into the main room. She looked at Kenny as she grabbed her bag. “Do you have a way back to the hotel?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

They gazed at each other from across the room. Alex opened her mouth, wanting to say something, anything; but she was afraid that whatever she said say would come out all wrong. So she just gave him one last look and pushed out the door, running away from her feelings again.