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"They're so fucking stupid." Subz leans back against the ropes, tests the bounce. Pure luck they found a training gym in the area that was open. Luck they need to be spending on trying to win the titles. "Ash and Clutch shouldn't even have the titles. Bullshit. Should've vacated them when Red left."
"But they didn't," Vitalasy says. "And we won't beat them if we spend more time complaining that training."
"We should split up," Subz says. His ring boots grip the canvas. "Bet I could take Rek one-on-one. You know he's too busy prepping for Parrot to do anything about me."
Vitalasy rolls his eyes. "You could."
"I totally could! I'm a singles guy, you know I am." Subz hops onto the first rope, bounces a little. "Who did this fucking tension? It's like trying to bounce on licorice."
"You probably could," Vitalasy says. "C'mon, come at me."
"If I gotta," Subz says, but he hops down and starts circling. The funny thing about he and Vitalasy is how poorly they match up to each other. Maybe it just makes them a better team, but Subz has a sneaking suspicion that's not quite true. Vitalasy just never understands how he fights. It's fine; he barely understands how Vitalasy thinks in a fight either. He just understands that it works, the two of them, terrifyingly well.
Case in point, Vitalasy steps in for a knuckle lock when he has to know Subz is going to dodge. He'd never win a straight contest of strength, so it's better to just avoid them.
"Dude," Subz says. "Try harder."
"If you were Ash you would've totally taken me up on that!" Vitalasy protests. He goes back to circling.
"I'm not Ash," Subz says. "Duh."
"Don't — I'm not prepping for a match against you," Vitalasy says like it's obvious. Like it's intuitive. Like he would never have to prep for a match against Subz, because in what world would they betray each other. "You know how Ash wrestles, and he's closer to your size anyway."
"So's Clutch, and I wrestle more like he does anyway," Subz counters. He'll get dizzy if they keep circling. "And anyway, I'm not making you whip out a, a crossface chickenwing or whatever for your Ash impression."
"So neither of us are that good at impressions," Vitalasy laughs. "Whatever. Sparring is sparring."
"Wow, fucking, giant brain on this guy," Subz says, and while Vitalasy is still smiling he lunges in for the hammerlock. Vitalasy's arm goes neatly behind his back, wrist and shoulder helpless. "Gotcha."
"Whatever can I do," Vitalasy deadpans. He kicks at Subz's leg and turns his whole body away until he's neatly unwrapped the hold. The momentum carries forward until Subz is running into the ropes, barely able to bounce off them with his back and not his front. Might as well go for the tackle on Vitalasy. He drops down, predictable as anything, which means he'll try and leapfrog over Subz next.
Sure as clockwork, Vitalasy plants his hands on Subz's back, and it's so easy to just — stop in place and catch Vitalasy's legs. Subz isn't really a powerbomb guy, but that's because getting them up on his shoulders is the hard part. Vitalasy's been kind enough to put himself there for free. He's heavy, thighs hooked over Subz's shoulders. Instinctively, Subz wraps his arms around Vitalasy's legs, holds him in place.
He could let Vitalasy fall right now, shoulders and head smashing into the canvas from eight feet in the air. He could. Easy route to being a singles wrestler, and it doesn't even have to happen on-screen. They can let the messy betrayal shake out in private, where Subz likes it. Easy. Easy.
"Think you can get down?" Subz says into Vitalasy's legs.
Vitalasy's hands are on his shoulder, clawing for stability. "Get me to the turnbuckle, and I'll do it from there."
It's just not fun fighting Vitalasy. That's all. So Subz fights on his team, because it's just sad fighting against him. No point doing things that make him more annoyed than he already is. He deposits Vitalasy on the turnbuckle.
"We should probably try that again," Vitalasy says. "I bet I could dodge that."
"You could dodge it if you knew it was coming," Subz retorts. He has to crane his neck up to look at Vitalasy like this. It's a weird feeling. Normally the turnbuckle is his real-estate. "Actually — you know what we should do?"
Vitalasy tilts his head. "Win the belts?"
"You should do a TNT Minecart," Subz says. "They'll never fucking see it coming. I mean, they'll see it coming from me, but it's my finisher, not yours."
"Small problem." Vitalasy clambers down, one rope at a time. "I can't even do a corkscrew moonsault, and you want me to do a corkscrew 450? That's like a backflip and a half. And another half!"
"I can teach you." Subz rolls his shoulders. "No, dude, this is the best idea. There's literally no way this can go wrong. Zero chance. No shot."
"Well now you've jinxed it." Vitalasy crosses his arms. "You really think so? I'm like — I'm not you. I don't bounce."
"That's why there's canvas and padding and shit." Subz scuffs his boot on the canvas. "It's just a leap of faith. The ground will catch you even if you miss."
"Excuse me for not wanting to face plant when I don't have to," Vitalasy says. "Why can't you do my finisher?"
"Like I'd be able to lift someone up like that," Subz says. "Much less do the leg thing." He has a couple inches on Vitalasy. It's so much more comfortable looking down at him than up. "I couldn't even powerbomb you."
"You could if you got them on the buckles." Vitalasy makes an expansive gesture that doesn't seem to signify anything but his excitement. "You know Clutch loves that Canadian destroyer off the top rope. Kick out his legs then and I bet we'd be able to pull it off."
"He's not even fuckin' Canadian," Subz interjects. "Yeah, maybe. New combo move."
"New combo that's literally just combining our old moves?" Vitalasy shrugs. "It could work. I don't see why not."
"What, you're fine trying to do a 450? All of a sudden?" Subz takes a step back, towards the center of the ring. "Yeah, sure. Definitely."
"I — I can!" Vitalasy tilts his head, cat-like and smug. "C'mon. You'll catch me if I'm about to eat it."
Subz rolls his eyes. "I guess."
Vitalasy is just as awkward getting up on the turnbuckles as last time. He crouches, back turned from Subz. His calves flex. Subz knows he has the leg strength to do it. He says he doesn't have a corkscrew moonsault, but he just doesn't use it. Sometimes, Vitalasy flies.
Vitalasy steadies himself one last time. Then he flies.
And like — it sucks. He slams into Subz because Subz said he'd catch him, and if he lies to everyone except for Vitalasy at least he's not lying to Vitalasy. What feels like three hundred pounds of impact hammers into Subz's chest, and he just barely gets his arms up to slow his fall. It's painful, and Subz's back slams into the ground without even his hands free to do a breakfall .
So it fuckin' sucks.
"Oh my god," Vitalasy says, breathless. "Is it like that every time?"
"No," Subz says. Vitalasy is kind of crushing him.
"That was — we have to do this. That was awesome." Vitalasy sounds like there's a laugh bubbling in his stomach. Probably with how he's still fucking crushing Subz, it should be easier to tell. "They'll never see it coming."
Fine. Vitalasy's just not going anywhere. Subz dies like this. "We can take 'em. You don't need me to do my Ash impression."
"No way you have an Ash impression. Or a Clutch impression so don't start." Vitalasy pauses. His breath presses into Subz's torso. "We don't need to be anyone but each other."
"One more match and then we split up," Subz says, just to be an asshole. "Okay, like two. Maybe three. If we get the belts."
"We'll get them," Vitalasy says, cheerfully confident. Finally, finally, he rolls off of Subz. The absence of pressure feels like — it feels like an absence. "Have fun being a singles guy."
"So much fun," Subz says. He stares at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights have no response for him.