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Kevin has no fucking idea where that annoying sniffling sound is coming from, but, oh god if it doesn't stop soon he's going to lose his mind. He knows it's not really the person's fault, their body's immune system not getting rid of whatever sickness currently infecting them is not something that can really be controlled - but he's very irritable today, and the constant sound of a stuffed up nose trying to breathe is really getting on his nerves. Sighing, Kevin reaches down into his bag to grab his wrist tape. A little annoyance isn't about to stop him from getting ready for his match.
After all, he has a promo to kick off the show and a very important match against Shinsuke Nakamura and Sami Zayn tonight. He absolutely has to be ready, mentally and physically, to put on the best match of his WWE career the moment his music hits; just like he does every time he goes out there. As the United States of America Champion and the permanent Face of America, he has to deliver each and every night to remind everyone why he's the champion. Why he deserves to be champion more than anyone else; especially the likes of AJ Styles - who was also getting ready right next to Kevin. Which was highly unexpected considering no one besides Sami really sits next to him in the locker room, giving him his much welcomed space to get into the Kevin Owens mindset. But, eh, at least it gave him a good view.
There's the damn sniff again.
Kevin rolls his eyes, finishing up the tape on his left hand. He turns his head to look at Styles, keeping his voice low, “I have no idea who's sniffing like that, but it's kinda pissing me off. Just get a tissue.”
A moment passes before Styles replies with a soft, “Yeah,” and sits down to lace his boots up. Kevin looks back down at his right wrists and starts applying the tape, shrugging it off as the guy just not having a good day and not wanting to talk, or he was getting in his own -
Sniff.
Kevin freezes. The sound had gotten a tad closer, but the only person near him was -
“Is that you?” Kevin turns his head back to Styles, “Are you sick?”
“No,” comes the immediate, firm reply; followed up a barely covered up cough.
“You're sick, dude.”
Styles’ head whips to the side, eyes narrowed threatening; or, that's the look he was going for. All Kevin can see the redness of his nose and that his face was somewhat pale. The fact that he was still trying to act tough even when he's clearly ill just makes him even cuter, but -
Did he just call AJ Styles cute?
“I ain't sick, I don't get sick.” Sniff.
Kevin rolls his eyes again, “You have a cold, it's not the end of the world. Just take some medicine and eat some soup. You'll be fine.”
“Don't tell me what to do.”
Two fingers come up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping his lips. How can someone be so infuriating yet so adorably helpless at the same time? It's like he's a puppy.
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
“You ain't comin’ into my house!”
“Watch me. And then I'll make you take your medicine.”
Styles is startled by his instant reply, blinking more than usual as he attempts to come up with a reply. Mouth opening and closing. “What?”
“You heard me. Gonna be right here waiting for you after your match so I can drive us to your house. Then you're gonna lay down while I pour medicine in your mouth.” The only thing giving Kevin the courage to continue going instead of just backing out, playing it as a joke, is the genuine look of surprise on Styles’ face. Knowing he's so easily able to get one over on his foe gives the Canadian a lot of joy; so much that he's not considering the consequences of his words.
“Kevin, we need you in makeup.” He looks over at one of the backstage workers, giving her a nod as he stands. He finishes up his tape job before setting it back in his bag. Smirking, he taps his foot against Styles’ shin.
“I'll see you after show. And try to blow some of that junk out of your nose - or just sneeze it out on Ziggler.”
~
The pout firmly engraved on Sami’s face almost makes Kevin want to change his mind, accept the offer to go out for some late night grub and forget about the threat he'd made. It was a stupid threat, anyways; something he wouldn't have even followed through with if it had been anyone else. But because it's AJ Styles, his archrival, he can't back down. Or all of his other, much more serious and realistic threats wouldn't be taken seriously. And, if he can get that dumbfounded look to appear on the other's face again, then he'll mark that down as a victory.
“What're you even doing that's so important, anyways? More important than your best friend?”
“It's not that it's more important than you. It's just - it's hard to explain, okay?” Kevin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. The right words to describe the situation or why he absolutely needed to do this weren't coming to him, not that Sami would understand anyways. “Look, I'll make it up to you next week, okay? We can go out to - to Waffle House
And I'll pay.”
Sami huffs out a “Fine”, arms crossed over his chest to express how upset he is about accepting defeat. “But I still want to know -”
The sound of the locker room door opening draws Kevin's attention, and out walks out AJ Styles himself. Jacket drawn tight around him, damp bangs pulled back into a small bun, and his bag over his shoulder as he makes his way towards the exit, it's clear he just wants to get out and go back to the hotel - or, well, home in this case, since they are in Atlanta. He looks healthier, skin it's normal tanned color and his nose is less red, but his eyes are droopy; signaling that sleep wouldn't be that far off.
“I gotta go.” Giving his friend's shoulder a pat, Kevin hurriedly follows after Styles, ignoring Sami’s calls after him.
“Where do you think you're going?” Kevin puts a hand on Styles’ shoulder, slowing him down. “I told you, I'm taking you home.” Styles looks at him, stopping in the threshold to the parking lot. His face is blank as he just blinks, not saying g anything.
“Okay.” Styles reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys and handing them over to Kevin. He expected more of a fight, but the older man looks and sounds completely exhausted, so driving was out of the question for him.
Kevin follows Styles to his car, unlocking it and silently watching to make sure he gets in the passenger seat without falling or dropping anything. He pulls out of the space and navigates his way out of the lot, making his way onto the open road. Styles gives him his first set of directions - follow up the road 'til ya reach your third right - his accent thicker than usual. From then on out it's a smooth, mostly quiet ride filled with Styles’ occasional mumble of directions and light sniffles; which had quickly grown on him as being more endearing than irritating. It doesn't feel like that much time has passed before he's pulling up into the other's driveway and getting out of the car, following Styles into the house.
“I actually don't got any soup, if you were bein’ serious about that part,” Styles looks back at Kevin over his shoulder, “but I think there's some cold medicine upstairs if ya wanna look in there.”
Without another word, Styles heads up the stairs, the Canadian not far behind. There was a weird silence between them; neither knowing what to say or if anything even needed to be said. They were beyond the point of childish hazing and well said jokes - well said on his end, anyways - but the thought of being civil to one another is one that was quickly pushed away. Acting like Styles was any less than an enemy would give the other an opportunity to attack, infiltrate his weakness and take away his championship. And that - that isn't something Kevin is going to let happen. Ever.
The medicine cabinet located above the sink in the older man's bathroom contains multiple bottles of medication; most of which are empty and intended for children. It only takes a moment before he finds one that's half filled and age appropriate, keeping it in his hand as he exits the bathroom. He finds Styles on his bed, twiddling with his phone - and shirtless. For some reason, seeing the older man half naked alone and in his bedroom brings a different reaction out of Kevin than it would in the ring in front of thousands of people. He stutters in his step; eyes fixated on the man in front of him, who hasn't yet to notice his presence. He gulps, shaking his head. It's not like he's never seen someone shirtless before, so this shouldn't be that big of a deal. The popping of the cap brings Styles’ eyes up to him and Kevin forces himself to break eye contact. Trying to stare into those piercing blues is just - no. Not right now.
Measuring cup in one hand and bottle in the other, he pours it up to the top line and cuts it off even, handing it over to his temporary patient.
“Why're ya doin’ this?” Styles’ soft voice breaks the silence in the room as he takes the small cup, looking down at the blue liquid, “It ain't like you like me or anythin’, and ya didn't have to follow through on what ya said. I probably wouldn't've remembered it anyways. So I just, I don't understand.”
Ah, the question he was hoping would never be asked. Just like Sami, Styles would never understand why he felt the need to do this. Why he absolutely has to keep a leg up on Styles all the time, no matter what. That's why he gives a shrug, acting like it's no big deal.
“You said I wouldn't. Had to prove you wrong.” The safest answer and a fraction of the truth. Styles seems satisfied as he nods, chugging down the liquid in one drink. Nose shriveled up at the taste, he hands it back over so Kevin can place it back with the bottle. Kevin places it back where he found it, shutting the bathroom light off.
He lingers in the threshold for a moment, watching Styles get cozy in his bed. It probably wouldn't take long before he'll fall asleep and then Kevin can just leave. Call a cab to take him back to the hotel, and he can forget any of this ever happened.
“You're gonna stay, right?” Styles turns some to look at Kevin, flicking his hair out of his face. “Ya don't got to if you ain't comfortable with it..but I'd really appreciate it. I'll even buy ya breakfast in the mornin’.”
Sighing, Kevin puts his hands in his pockets. One night in the guest bedroom can't hurt. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A crooked smile makes its way onto Styles’ face, “Great. Get on over here then.”
“What?” That makes Kevin freeze. Over here? As in his bed? “You want me to..-”
“That's what I said. Hurry up before I change my mind.”
That's - okay. Okay. He'll go with it. Shutting the light off, he makes his way over to the right side of the bed, slipping inside and lays on his back, both hands tucked underneath his head. It's actually quite comfortable -
There's movement beside him, a weight on his chest and warmth pressed against his side. Is he really being cuddled or -
His heart does something weird as a warm and fuzzy feeling makes waves throughout his body. It's, it's too much but it still feels right. Like he's supposed to be here -
And now he's snoring. Oh, that's just too adorable. What the hell -
Closing his eyes, Kevin brings an arm down to wrap around Styles’ shoulders, quieting the race going on in his head. Don't put too much thought into it, and it'll won't mean anything. Simple.
At least, that's what he tells himself.
One thing's for sure, he'll always be able to hold this over AJ Styles’ head.