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Every single damn arena looked the same.
Every room was identical but Mox couldn't keep a little smile from forming on his face when the doorway he staggered to happened to be the same one a cowboy had apparently wandered through. Page was slumped on the ugly leather couch, sprawled across just enough of it to leave room for his own tired ass. It was tempting to keep walking but of all things he had expected when he had first made his way through a crowd to attack Jericho and announce his presence, Mox hadn't counted on actually liking their resident anxious millennial cowboy.
It was irritating and reluctant and well-earned.
Page hit hard just like he should, in that way he could feel for days afterward. The kind of fight that made him feel that little bit more alive and he was already looking forward to the next one. Putting fist-to-flesh always put him in the best sort of mood and Page didn't exactly look too put out when he slammed the door behind him with enough force to catch his attention. The weary middle finger was just their way of saying hello.
"Look what the cat dragged in."
That drawl sounded just right in his ears and Mox didn't hesitate to drop down into the empty spot beside him on the couch.
"You're one to talk, sweetheart." The nickname didn't earn anything more than a raised eyebrow. "You've got my blood all over you."
There was a smile just trying to form on that pretty face that looked even better bloodied and angry. It made Mox oddly proud of himself. Page stared down doubt like everyone else but sometimes, he was damn sure that he doubted the wrong fucking shit. This was simple. It was that like and respect and anger. They had bled together and Mox wondered if Page realized that. He was better than the fucking Elite. He just was. Putting that into words wasn't something that he was going to do but he settled a little deeper into the couch as the cowboy tried not to smile.
"So what? You've bled on half the roster."
The remnants of a bloody handprint was still right there on Page's chest as if it belonged there. His own chest already ached and it was the best possible feeling. There was nothing better than a good fight except a good fuck and he was too damn tired for that. Besides, Page didn't look up for that either and it was entirely his fault that Mox was curious if they'd be as good together in the bedroom as they were in the ring. Fighting Hangman Adam Page scratched an itch that was so hard to scratch Mox had given up trying.
"Yeah but my blood looks the best on you."
That eyebrow went just a little bit higher and Mox felt like they were finally making actual progress. So he nudged Page's knee with his own and tried to get him to move over a little bit.
"What are you doing?"
This time, that drawl was the perfect mix of irritated and curious.
"Trying to get more room."
Leather, sweat, and blood wasn't the best combination but if he could just get Page to scooch over, he'd be a lot more comfortable. His leg was at an angle that was tweaked just enough to be annoying.
"I was here first. Find your own couch."
He could. Every damn arena was exactly the same, after all, and there had to be more empty rooms with ugly furniture. But Yuta and Claudio were probably lurking around a corner somewhere waiting to worry and hover more. He appreciated their concern. He really did. It was genuine and nice and other things that were more than a little uncomfortable. But Mox couldn't decide which he wanted to do more: knock Page's teeth down his throat or kiss him stupid and it was hard to make a decision with Claudio's knowing eyes watching his every move. They had known each other too long and he really didn't want to know exactly which stories he had spilled to Yuta.
"I like this one. Besides, I won so that means I get more couch."
Page tried to puff himself up and Mox prepared for glorious retaliation. Brawling was a great way to get the blood flowing through your veins just right and Page brawled like he was born to do it. A couple of hard elbows would probably split him open again and maybe he'd smear his own blood across that chest this time. But instead, Page sighed and sank back into himself, shifting over until he was taking up as little space as possible.
And that wouldn't fucking do.
Mox liked Page spitting mad and fighting back with everything he had. Getting past that self-doubt and just coming at him, fearless and hard. The cowboy cared and that wasn't a bad thing but he could be both things at the same time. Mox had seen it and this disappearing act was entirely unnecessary.
"All out of fight, sweetheart?" Not even a raised eyebrow this time. "Aren't you gonna pull on those trusty spurs and push back?"
If he was perfectly honest, Mox wasn't really sure what a spur was but it sounded right. He'd probably heard Yosemite Sam say it or something. But Page was looking at him like he was worried that he needed to be tested for a concussion. Claudio had already done that. Twice.
"I lost, Moxley." A sigh as his head leaned back and his eyes closed. "I lost and I'm tired."
There was no one in existence who hated losing as much as he did. Mox knew that for certain. But Page clearly hated it too and it only felt like something else they had in common. The next time they got into the ring together was going to be beautiful bloody violence and they were both going to love every minute of it. As good as he looked with Mox's blood on him, Page's own blood dripping down the side of his face was just as good of a look.
"Tell me about it." He was going to ignore the whole win/loss thing for a moment longer. "You almost hit as hard as I do."
Emphasizing almost did exactly what he wanted it to and Mox felt Page's growl down into his toes. Leaning back like that exposed Page's neck in a way that had him thinking about seven different choke holds but it was a good thing. His mind wandering like that was about as relaxed as he got around an opponent since he was just thinking about the holds and not actually applying them. There were other - more interesting - things he wanted to do with Hangman Adam Page. Were necks something that were supposed to be sexy?
"Yuta might hit harder than you now."
That was a challenge and a complement and Mox wondered if Page knew that the quickest way to his heart - besides with a good bowl of Skyline Chili - was complementing one of his boys. Page in the ring with Shooter would be a thing of glory and maybe he needed to figure out a way to set that up.
"I'm gonna tell him you said that."
And that smirk - a little bit playful and a lot confident - might be more attractive than it should be. Somebody had better have told him that at some point. But Mox had an idea. Such things were usually dangerous and involved barbed wire of some kind but this idea was less violence and more touching.
Page wasn't sprawled out anymore which left him plenty of room to scoot over until he could use his shoulder as a headrest. It was a definite violation of personal space but they had just been all over each other not even an hour ago so it was probably fine. Or at least, Mox hoped it was. And if it wasn't, maybe Page would punch him again. That wasn't exactly what he wanted but a good brawl was never anything bad to settle for.
"What are you doing?"
"Resting." The snort was probably a little bit too loud next to his ear but Page hadn't shoved him away yet. "I pinned you so you get to be the pillow this time."
This time implied that there had been a last time and that there would be a next time but Mox wasn't too worried about semantics. He couldn't quite feel Page's sigh underneath his own skin and the fact that they weren't quite close enough for it made his feet twitch. His head was jostled and he was just about to gripe about it when Page's hand landed on his shoulder and he was pulled a little bit closer as his lariat arm wrapped around him.
Nice.
It was actually warm and nice and there was absolutely no way he was going to admit out loud when the last time someone tried to snuggle with him was. But Page was warm and strong.
"Felt like a good cuddle, cowboy?"
"What makes you think you're a good cuddler?"
He liked Page like this. Confidence and softness.
"I've had rave reviews." He poked one of those distracting pecs, intentionally missing the streak of dried blood. That needed to stay where it was. "I bet you have too. Got a good chest for it."
At least, they were close enough for him to feel the echo of Page's chuckle - strained and uncertain yet curious.
"Is this you trying to woo me, Mox?"
Finally.
Finally.
"Took you look enough to notice, sweetheart." Woo was an adorable word for it but it fit Page in a weird way. Mox sat up, staying close as he waited for their eyes to meet. "Gonna give a man a complex."
Their foreheads were pressed together again but Page was careful to avoid his barely-glued together cut and it was kinda nice too.
"Stop calling me sweetheart."
It would be way easier to take him seriously if Page's cheeks weren't flushed and his pupils weren't dark and wide.
"Nah. You gonna man up and give me the real cowboy shit?"
Not a bit of that stupid self-doubt was there in Page's eyes as their lips came together and it was perfect. He kissed like he fought. There was no better way to describe it. Fierce and aggressive. Little moans and grunting noises that sounded just right. Page's fingers scraped along the back of his head, digging into his scalp slightly in the exact way that he liked. Their tongues couldn't decide which one of them was going to lead and his own fingers were making a mess out of that sweaty curly hair. Push and pull.
This was Hangman Page's kiss.
And Mox didn't like it.
It was wrong like something was sticky under his rib cage. This was their matches simply on this hideous couch instead of in the ring and it didn't feel right. They were almost scratching that itch but they were just to the left of it in a way that was more annoying than anything else. So close. But not quite.
They were both breathing hard as they pulled back and Mox watched Page's expression for something that he didn't know how to define. A sign that it hadn't felt right to him either. This time, the shyness seemed like a good omen somehow.
"You too, huh?" A tiny, little nod felt like encouragement and understanding and Mox wondered if Page's eyes had ever looked this green before. "Care to try again, babe?"
Before he could protest - he wasn't babe - Page leaned back in and made the first move this time. Their lips touched and it was different. They understood each other.
Gentle yet certain. Soft yet confident. Page tilted his head to an angle he apparently liked better and Mox could only agree with him. This kiss felt like foreplay and a good round of shadowboxing wrapped up into one. Relaxing yet winding him up. Something to savor and brag about.
This was Adam's kiss and Mox liked it so much better that he didn't quite have the words. But the words weren't really important when they could just keep kissing.
Maybe the cowboy really did like him too.
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