Chapter Text
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Well, that sucked.
No matter how many times he had tried to tell himself that the important thing was finding his footing - figuring out how to be again - it still hurt to lose. Phantasmo couldn't stop this need to finally be good enough from rising higher and higher in himself. Wins would come. He knew that. But starting the fucking G1 with two losses hadn't been part of the plan.
The crowd had cheered for him, which had been nice since the Sapporo crowds had been so damn quiet for everyone. They had chanted his name and it still felt good. Maybe it always would. That is if they kept cheering for him. It was kinda hard to root for a loser.
Bowing to Okada had felt good too.
Not giving a shit that Bullet Club didn't do things like that and just being able to show his respect. Phantasmo had known that Kazuchika Okada was that damn good but now he had experienced it first-hand. And maybe - just maybe - Okada had started to take him seriously there at the end. A tiny, tiny bit. It wasn't that he wanted to be serious. That was too fucking boring. But Phantasmo wanted to be taken a little bit seriously. Even if he was the nipple-twisting guy, it would be nice if someone hesitated just a tad before they climbed into the ring with him.
Okada had great nipples, though. He wondered if he knew that. Probably. The man was built like a tree meant to climb and have stupidly good sex with so hopefully, someone at some point had appreciated those nipples. Phantasmo had told him not to treat him like one of his legion of young boy admirers but he'd been kinda quietly hoping for the little murder smirk anyway. It was hot and the G1 was a pain in the ass. Any little thing to make it easier to endure. Okada put his hand around his throat and squeezing just slightly was definitely something that he was going to be thinking about in the shower later. It wasn't that he was a super big fan of that sort of thing but Okada had looked so damn sexy doing it that it had been distracting.
Losing sucked but getting all sweaty with Kazuchika Okada? That was great.
Not so great?
Sitting in the hallway on this stupid bench. It was uncomfortably cold and the ice pack was starting to get kind of drippy, even though his neck still needed it. He had actually gotten hit by a Rainmaker - the kid inside of him was still squeeing about that part. Tapping out to the Money Clip would have been so damn embarrassing but plenty of guys had had their world rocked by Okada's finisher and Phantasmo knew exactly why now. Okada hit so damn hard and he hadn't quite realized how strong he was until that first lock-up. He wouldn't underestimate that strength next time.
There was going to be a next time. No way that that was going to be his only time going one-on-one with that hot bod.
Heh.
It would be nice to have an actual fucking locker room but everybody was kinda paired off or in faction spaces and it wasn't like anybody had claimed him. So he was chilling in hallways and changing in bathrooms. Phantasmo didn't necessarily miss being a part of Bullet Club but he did kinda miss being around other people, even if all of that had turned out to be a big fat fucking lie.
"What are you doing here?"
His eyes popped open at the voice - when had he closed them - but even blinking didn't change what he was looking at.
"Hey, Okada-san." Respect was a good thing, right? "I think your little harem has already left the building."
Not even the tiniest little curl of his lips and Phantasmo knew that he was funny. Maybe it was a language thing? Dude needed to relax a bit, though. All of that stress and that pressure had to be exhausting. Even he could see it in his surprisingly pretty eyes. There were absolutely worse people to get a tiny, tiny crush on than Kazuchika Okada so at least he had that going for him.
"Phantasmo." Was that a frustrated sigh? "What are you doing here?"
"Sitting. Resting after getting my ass kicked. You were there. You did the ass-kicking."
And that was a twitch of his lips and Phantasmo was sort of happy to see some kind of reaction. The man was too grumpy these days. He had damn good reasons but that didn't mean he needed to hang on to the grumpy all of the time. Tapping out to One-Arm Danielson must have sucked later that night - when he was all alone in his hotel room and replaying the moment over and over again in his head. Or was that something that only he did?
"That was not an ass kicking." For reasons he absolutely could not explain, Okada sat down beside him on the shitty bench. "That was a wrestling match."
A compliment.
That was an actual fucking compliment from Kazuchika Okada and he felt all glowy and tingly inside. It was a little ridiculous and totally involved him reading between the lines but the man didn't seem that hard to read. Assuming he wasn't so off base that he was in the wrong country but Okada was still sitting right there beside him.
How did he even smell good all sweaty? Phantasmo was pretty sure he smelled like the inside of an old wrestling boot but Okada was glistening and manly. It was hot.
"Yeah? You weren't too bad yourself. Maybe in a few more years, you'll be in the main event again."
Still not a sign of laughter or a smile and it was entirely possible that sarcastic teasing was the wrong way to go. It was who he was, though, and changing that - after everything - still felt wrong.
"Possibly."
Was that banter?
"Would it kill you to smile?" A single little quirk of Okada's eyebrow made him feel brave. "I know you can. I've seen pictures. Do I need to tell you a knock-knock joke or something?"
Oh.
Oh.
This had been a really, really bad idea.
Because that was a little hint of a smile and those damn pictures did not in any way do it justice. This close-up? That smile was making him feel all giggly. He wanted to point and shout look what I did but at the same time, Phantasmo didn't want anyone else to see it. That was his Okada smile.
"There you go. You're even better looking like that."
Whoops.
Phantasmo could instantly feel his cheeks start to flush and it took a lot to make him blush but here he was - saying stupid stuff out loud and blushing like a school girl because Kazuchika Okada said they wrestled and smiled at him. Stupid crush and stupider feelings.
And Okada was just staring at him. Blinking and looking confused and maybe he could pass it all off as exhaustion from the not-an-ass-kicking.
"Even better looking means you think I'm attractive."
"Duh." That little head tilt was just more confusion. "You do own a mirror, don't you? I'm sure there's one around here somewhere that you can look in."
Oh fuck.
Okada leaned toward him just enough to make it obvious and Phantasmo was all tingly again. He was smirking but it wasn't the Murder Smirk. It was a sexy smirk and he was a goner. A puddle of uh oh right here on this stupid bench in this stupid hallway.
"I know I look good. But I didn't know that you thought that."
Was Kazuchika Fucking Okada flirting with him? How fucking hard had that Rainmaker been that he'd smacked him with? Because trauma-induced delusion was the only damn thing that made sense right now. It was kinda great, though, and not just because he was charming. Phantasmo was pretty damn sure some of that weight had fallen away from Okada's shoulders and even if that was his only victory tonight, it was a really good one.
"Yeah. I have eyeballs." The ice pack fell to the floor as Okada leaned just a little closer and his fingers just gave up on holding on to it. "Please tell me that you know you're doing the whole leaning thing. Because it's really sexy and you're making my brain wander to the good places."
"Are you this talkative in bed?"
"Yep."
And that was a really great smile. Something true and happy and Phantasmo still had absolutely no idea why he was seeing it. But he wasn't going to complain. Not at all. Okada really was flirting with him and it was only his sorta desperate need to not scare him off that was keeping him from pumping his fist in the air.
"You're different than I thought you were."
"I'm amazed you had any idea I existed before this match." Okada's brow furrowed just a little like that bothered him and Phantasmo knew that he needed to keep talking. Push those words away from the air between them. "Anyway… you mentioned a bed. Mine or yours? I've got a super sweet view if you like that sort of thing."
That smile softened enough to make him feel naked in the bad way.
"Different is good."
That weight was back again in Okada's eyes and that was just rude of it. They were having a Moment. No stupid bad thoughts.
"You've had a really shitty year so far, huh?" For a single damn second, Okada looked fragile and Phantasmo tried his best to smile his best smile. "Gotta be pretty tired. Do you want a massage or something? I got great hands."
"I noticed." His eyes darted away like he was the one embarrassed by his mouth speaking for him this time. "Facing you was nice."
Nice.
He'd take that. Every day and twice on Sundays.
"Does that mean I can have a little kiss?"
He wiggled his eyebrows as exaggerated as he could and was rewarded with the tiniest little chuckle. And that was hot too.
Okada leaned in yet closer and Phantasmo braced himself for a patronizing pat on the head. Or a raspberry with spit flying in his face - he knew the man was goofy underneath the pressure and the grumpy. He'd seen those pictures too. Maybe if he was really lucky, he'd get a little smooch on the cheek. Something quick and goofy and just enough to make him feel special.
But no.
None of that.
Instead, that was Okada's lips against his and they were so damn soft that it was cheating. It was just a kiss but his insides were exploding anyway. Tentative yet sure. Questioning but certain. Guiding but not demanding. It was the sort of kiss that made him feel all melty and it had been a long time since he'd known one of those. Phantasmo reached up and caressed the side of his face as gently as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was break this little spell. This impossible bubble on this stupid bench where Kazuchika Okada thought he was worth smiling at. Kissing him with a tenderness so subtle it was going to make his eyes get all teary.
It felt real.
It made no sense but it was so damn good anyway.
There was so much doubt in Okada's eyes as they slowly pulled back just a little and it hurt in its own way. That weight was way older than he thought and maybe it had been a long time since a kiss made him feel too.
"Of fucking course, you're a really great kisser too."
Doubt faded into the Sexy Smirk again and Phantasmo was probably done for.
"I think you're a better wrestler than a kisser."
That was an insult and a compliment and a challenge all wrapped up into one and it was perfect. It was that banter again and the only thing to do was kiss him again.
Phantasmo tried his best to keep all of his nervous aggressiveness at bay. To not hide behind lewdness and let their kiss stay as sensual as the first one had been. They were out here in the open and they could be interrupted any second. He might not get another chance to kiss Okada the way he deserved to be kissed. Stupid young boy harem and stupid Danielson and stupid title losses. A hand slipped around the back of his neck and it was warm and wonderful.
No pressure.
Just contact.
Tiny little noises and the perfect amount of tongue to get lost in.
This time, as they separated, their foreheads rested against one another for a moment and Phantasmo was pretty sure that he sighed like a maiden.
"Maybe you're equally good at both."
"Yeah?"
And he absolutely could not stop the silly bashful smile from taking over his whole damn face. His cheeks were definitely on fire but Okada's hand was still there on the back of his neck as one of his fingers played with his hair.
"There. You're more attractive when you smile too."
Phantasmo felt oddly seen and the only thing that kept him from leaning in for a third kiss was Okada's hand falling away as he stood up. His heart had just enough time to start mocking him before he reached back out - grabbing his hand with another of those soft smiles on his face. Not to whip into the ropes or to tangle their fingers together but just enough to hold. A gentle tug matched the question that Phantasmo could tell Okada wasn't sure how to ask.
That was okay. He understood it anyway.
He stood but still Okada didn't let go of his hand. Instead, it was trembling in his or maybe he was trembling too. They just started walking side-by-side and it felt good too. Phantasmo wasn't sure where they were going but anywhere Okada wanted to go couldn't possibly be bad.
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