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People keep thinking they can fucking touch him.
One of Hook’s earliest memories is standing in the middle of his pre-school’s playground, getting lectured by the teacher after knocking a girl who had toddled up and hugged him flat on her back.
“We use our words if we don’t want to be hugged,” the teacher said, holding the sobbing girl in her lap. “We don’t use- can you look at me when I’m talking to you?- we don’t use our hands. Can you use your words?”
He can’t. He doesn’t know how to say that being touched makes him want to cry without sounding like he’s a baby. He can’t describe how that need to cry can instantly mutate into an almost blinding rage, like every nerve in his body lights up, demanding he do anything he can to make it stop. If other people get hurt, well, maybe they shouldn’t have made him feel like he needed to protect himself.
He doesn’t say any of that. He just stares at his shoes and mutters that he’s sorry.
It doesn’t get easier as Hook grows up.
That blinding rage is still there but he can’t do anything with it; he has to compress the ache to physically teach people not to touch him into glares. It works, for the most part. It gets him through high school.
That changes when he starts wrestling training.
A certain part of him sees the irony of the situation. Hook can go hours sparring and grappling with his instructors no problem, each hold and throw feeling like it’s what he’s meant to do. For the first time, he feels like he can handle being touched by someone who isn’t his mom or dad.
“You’re a natural,” QT Marshall says, tossing him a Gatorade after they finish for the day. “Seriously, you’re a once in a generation talent.”
And then QT ruffles his hair.
He reacts on pure instinct, barely feeling like he has control, barely knowing where he is. He just needs QT to fucking stop. Cody Rhodes has to interfere to make him release the arm bar.
“I ain’t punishing him for having that killer instinct,” He hears his dad say when QT complains. “You spend hours teaching him how to kill a motherfucker and you’re shocked he puts the hurt on you when you surprise him? Besides, he don’t like being condescended.”
QT doesn’t ruffle his hair anymore.
Hook likes AEW. He’s perpetually jet-lagged from constant travel and he only gets to sleep in his own bed twice a month, but it’s worth it. He’s surrounded by people who share the same passion as him, and with people who are pretty excited to teach him how to be a better wrestler, even though he still hasn’t had his first match. They teach him how to fine-tune his violence. He likes scrapping with Moxley, going a few rounds with Omega. He could spend hours practicing, immersing himself in wrestling. Nobody tells him he’s weird for having a one-track mind dedicated to the sport.
He just wishes it wasn’t so loud all the time.
He can handle it as long as he’s got his AirPods, though. When he’s not practicing, he finds somewhere he can be alone and just listens to Action Bronson’s Blue Chips 7000. He loses himself in it, comforted in the way he knows every beat, every word, every sound. It’s predictable in the best way. He could probably listen to that album every day of his life and not get bored. His co-workers eventually stop asking what he’s listening to. He always holds up his phone, showing the same album every time.
Matt Jackson makes a (comment? joke?) about how one day his entrance music should be a song off it. Hook thinks that’d actually be really sick.
People in AEW don’t touch him, which is good.
His dad’s expanding Team Taz.
That’s fine by Hook. He thinks Ricky Starks is pretty cool- cooler than Cage, at least. Ricky’s probably the funniest person Hook’s ever met, always with something clever to say that makes Hook try not to giggle. Sometimes he buys Hook chips.
“Why chips?” Ricky asks him one day as they share a bag of Kettle chips (the cheddar flavor, Hook’s third favorite).
Hook shrugs. He likes chips the way he likes Blue Chips 7000, the way they’re consistent and predictable. Sandwiches, for instance, are always different, but you get the same texture and flavor in every bag of Ruffles. It’s a nice constant, something that grounds him.
He feels like this is a weird thing to say, though, so he doesn’t say it at all.
“I know he’s- moody, y’know,” He overhears his dad say. “I know he don’t talk much. But he’s a good kid, y’know? Just be patient with him.”
“I get it,” he hears Hobbs, the newest Team Taz recruit say. “I got a little cousin who’s, uh,”
“We never got him tested or nothin’. Probably should’ve.” His dad says, voice lowered. “But. Yeah. You know.”
Hook wonders what it says about him that all his friends are his friends because they wanted to be managed by his dad.
Hook has his debut match. It’s everything he hoped it’d be. He leaves the ring before the ref can touch him.
Danhausen is here now, Hook supposes.
That’s the general consensus of the roster, that Danhausen sure is here now. He seemingly manifested during the Lights Out match between Cole and Cassidy and is, as far as anyone can tell, here to stay.
Hook doesn’t know what to make of him, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever have to pay attention to Danhausen.
Hook is, against his will, being forced to pay attention to Danhausen.
It starts immediately after QT, for whatever reason, tries to give him some “certificate of accomplishment”, acting like he’s why Hook’s as good as he is and not because Hook’s, well. Hook. He’s already in a bad mood and getting summoned to the ring doesn’t help. The confetti gun blasting behind him makes it worse.
That familiar rage is boiling up, but he basically has carte blanche to express it now. He puts one of QT’s other student’s head through the stupid plaque and makes his way up the ramp when he appears.
They’ve spoken once before, actually. Danhausen gave him a bag of chips then, but Hook’s in no mood to try and figure out why this dude’s trying to fucking curse him now. He just keeps walking.
The dude keeps popping up like a bad rash, trying to curse Hook and getting mad when it doesn’t work. Truthfully, Hook doesn’t understand his immunity, especially after he’s seen Regal get hit by one, making the BCC demand Danhausen lift it. Maybe Hook’s just built different.
That doesn’t stop Danhausen from trying, though. Hook’s lost track of the times he’s been ambushed, the weird demon popping out of trashcans or interrupting interviews and matches or leaping out of supply closets or hiding in his locker or just showing up when he’s training. Danhausen’s apparently everywhere.
At least he doesn’t touch Hook.
It escalates, as wrestling drama tends to. Danhausen storms down to the ring after Hook wins a match, looking as serious as one can with weird demon face patterns and abysmal posture.
Hook can’t really hear what he says, especially over the crowd. He registers Danhausen’s nasally voice, but not his words, until he hears
“You will fight! Danhausen!”
And Danhausen’s touching him and it’s all Hook can do to keep himself from breaking Danhausen’s jaw.
His dad tells him he can come to him any time if he needs to talk, both of them pretending that’s something Hook does.
It’s when Danhausen’s stomping a bunch of chips on the ground and shrieking that Hook snaps. It’s not like Hook’s particularly upset by the chips; honestly, he would’ve probably lost it no matter what Danhausen had done.
He slams the annoying little weirdo against the wall, looking Danhausen dead in the eyes. He can’t really place what emotion he’s seeing, but he’s pretty sure it’s fear, which works for him.
“You wanted my attention?” He says, “You got it now.”
He storms off. He needs to drown himself in Bronson for the rest of the night.
Tony Nese and his lawyer won’t leave Hook alone.
They keep talking about how unfair it is that he keeps getting all these incredible opportunities at such a young age, all because of who his dad is. Hook’s tempted to counter and bring up Brock Anderson being stuck in Dark purgatory, but Brock’s always been kind to him. He keeps his mouth shut.
“You and Danhausen are everything that’s wrong with this company!” Nese’s lawyer says, exasperated. “Nobody cares about an actual premier athlete when they can see two dudes the stupid Internet’s turned into memes!”
Hook knows better than to assault a lawyer. He glares at them, pointedly eating his Lays until they walk away.
He never considered having anything in common with Danhausen.
He wonders if Danhausen’s having fun with the Best Friends.
Danhausen’s got Hook in the middle of the ring as he reconsiders his desire to fight the Cold-Hearted Handsome Devil in real time. Hook could go either way, honestly; while he’s usually down for a match, there’s something pathetic about Danhausen that makes him feel like it’d be the wrestling equivalent of fighting a newborn kitten.
Tony Nese doesn’t feel the same way, jumping them like a coward. Attacking Danhausen like a fucking pussy. Hook springs into action, suplexing Nese with everything he’s got. The crowd loves it.
Danhausen’s loving it, too, delighted when Nese and his lawyer (Mike? Matt?) slink away as he tries to curse them. Hook’s pretty sure Danhausen doesn’t see him standing behind him.
What’s shocking is that when Danhausen slaps Hook’s chest a few times, for the first time in years he doesn’t feel rage when someone other than his parents or teammates touch him. Maybe it’s because he’s still riding the high of winning, or maybe it’s because he’s decided Danhausen’s the (demon?) equivalent of a puppy in a cardboard box out in the rain.
Then Danhausen tries to get him to shake hands so he grabs his shirt and shoves him.
The greatest birthday gift TK could’ve given him was the ability to beat someone’s ass, and it’s a gift he treasures. He’s alive when he wrestles. He loves ripping someone off their feet and throwing them more than he loves some family members.
The match ends in its usual fashion, with Hook winning yet again. He’s about to head back when there’s Danhausen again. Hook sighs and rolls his eyes.
For once, Danhausen isn’t demanding a mach. He’s demanding a tag team. They’re both being antagonized by Nese and his lawyer, after all. Hook can see the logic there. At least if they teamed up, TK would be forced to give him the opportunity to dismantle the asshole who keeps acting like Hook isnt as good as he is.
And then Danhausen touches him again, and Hook reacts on instinct and pushes him away, and- oh. Oh.
Danhausen, flat on his ass, meekly tosses Hook a present, a little bag of chips with a little birthday bow. Danhausen does not make eye contact as he rolls out of the ring.
Goddammit. God fucking damnit.
His birthday gets worse.
Hook really shouldn’t complain. He really shouldn’t. He’s the one who shrugged in an affirmative way when Ricky offered to get Team Taz food from “the best place in town” for his birthday.
It’s just. Ricky’s idea of the best place is somewhere that specializes in muffulettas, and Hook’s never told Ricky that he can’t stand olives. Or pickles. Or peppers.
They’re eating together in the Team Taz locker room; Hobbs is already working on his second sandwich in the time it takes Hook to eat three bites. The textures, the taste, it’s like he’s eating poison. He feels like he’s the pathetic little animal, like he’s once again a little kid crying at the dinner table because some of his peas got jumbled up with his plain spaghetti. He chokes down a mouthful, every part of him begging and screaming. He can’t say anything. If he says anything Ricky and Hobbs will think he’s a freak.
They’re distracted, having some animated conversation about something Hook doesn’t care about. His dad sees him, though, and leans over to softly say “You had one hell of a night, big man. Don’t think anyone would mind if you wanted to take off a little early.”
Hook loves his dad so fucking much. He gets up and leaves without saying a word.
Danhausen can probably eat a sandwich without being a loser about it.
He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t fucking cry. He’s a grown man and he does not fucking cry.
He wanders around the arena, looking for somewhere to be alone. He can hear them taping a special episode of Dark out in the ring. He balls his hands into fists, trying to take deep breaths to center himself.
He’s sitting alone in some dim stairwell when Danhausen appears in front of him. Maybe he has demonic teleportation powers, or maybe Hook was just too focused on Action Bronson. It doesn’t really matter. He wipes a tear stain from his cheek and does not make eye contact.
He turns down his music when he thinks he hears Danhausen say something.
“Huh?”
“Danhausen said,” he says, the quietest Hook’s ever heard him. “Maybe Hook wanted a bigger bag of birthday chips.” And then Danhausen’s looking away, holding out a party size bag of barbecue Kettle chips. Hook’s favorite. Danhausen fidgets in place, free arm drawn to his chest like a velociraptor. Hook idly thinks maybe Danhausen should’ve joined Jurassic Express.
Hook didn’t realize how hungry he was. He tears into the bag like a man possessed.
Danhausen sits a step down from him, not looking at him. Hook’s not sure if the silence is comfortable.
“Thanks.” He says when he’s done eating.
“Oh, no problem for Danhausen at all.” Danhausen says. “Danhausen just wants his friendhausen Hook to be happy.”
Hook scoots down so they’re sitting on the same step. Their legs touch, but Hook doesn’t mind.
Maybe Danhausen’s not having fun with the best friends. Maybe he feels like an obligation, like he’s someone people have to be nice to. Hook wishes he couldn’t relate.
Danhausen’s never once mentioned Taz. Everything he’s done has been with Hook and Hook alone in mind.
For the first time, Hook regrets pushing away someone who touched him.
Danhausen keeps popping up, but he isn’t trying to get Hook to wrestle, either himself or anyone else. He’s actually just being overall pretty friendly.
Danhausen gives him bags of chips or bottles of Gatorade, and compliments Hook’s form, and asks to know Hook’s secrets for having “such spectacular hair”. Sometimes he tells Hook stories about life in The Demon Place (Hook’s never sure how true they are, but they’re always captivating).
What gets Hook every time is the way Danhausen’s face lights up when he sees Hook. He feels his own heart flutter when he sees the other man.
He wonders what it’d be like to touch Danhausen. What it’d be like to feel his lean body. To hold each other in their arms, to look each other in the eye, to tilt their heads before sharing a nervous, breathless ki-
“You okay, man?” Hobbs asks. “You’re bright red.”
Hook pulls the strings of his hoodie tight, hoping the hood covers as much of his face as possible.
Danhausen’s the first one to have a match against Nese and it goes worse than Hook expected. It’s an absolute mauling. Nese fights like he wants to kill Danhausen, this harmless guy whose biggest crime is being too enthusiastic. It’s sickening. Hook watches all thirty-two seconds of the match, blinding rage building the entire time.
They think that just because Danhausen’s weird they can do what they want to him. Like his quirks make him inferior. Like because he doesn’t fit their stupid cookie cutter they can be as cruel as they want. Just because he’s different. Hook’s seen enough.
Nese’s stupid fucking lawyer is saying some stupid fucking bullshit when Hook storms towards the entrance, not caring if the sound guys see him in time to play his music. When he gets in the ring, Nese and his flunkey are already taking off.
Danhausen staggers to his feet, seemingly in a daze, but he looks at Hook like he’s seeing his guardian angel (or demonic equivalent) in the flesh. Danhausen rubs his jaw with one hand and extends the other.
Hook shakes it. The arena goes nuts.
He likes Danhausen. He really likes Danhausen.
If they’re gonna fight Nese and his fucking moron lawyer together on a pay-per-view, they might as well make sure they’re on the same page. Hook drags Danhausen to the gym to train together.
'Train together’ is a bit generous, considering that for every minute they work together going over holds and throws and moves, there’s a minute where Danhausen just… stares at him.
Hook doesn’t mind too much. There are minutes where he stares at Danhausen.
Double or Nothing rolls around and Hookhausen (as Danhausen and the fans call them) absolutely destroy their opponents.
It goes better than Hook expected, having anticipated having to do a lot of the heavy lifting anyway. Danhausen gets his ass beat for a while, but still manages to hold his own. He even does a hurricanrana, a move Hook’s never been good at.
When they win, Danhausen holds his hand up in victory. It’s the first time he’s let anyone hold his hand up after a match. It feels good.
Danhausen’s a real live wire after the match, running in little circles around Hook backstage.
"We did it!” He crows. “Hook and Danhausen defeated Nese and Menacing Mike Sterling! Hook and Danhausen are the most powerful team in the entire world!”
And Danhausen hugs him.
The blinding rage he felt every other time he’s been touched just isn’t there. What’s there instead is this feeling of… calm. Of delight. Of never wanting Danhausen to let him go.
He hugs Danhausen back, burying his face in his neck. It’s perfect. It’s perfect. It’s perfect.
Danhausen thinks he can touch him. And Danhausen’s right.