Archive of Our Own

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If someone asked Nathan Frazer at the beginning of the year to describe the feeling of fear, he wouldn’t have an answer. He liked to brag to anyone who would listen that he didn’t feel fear; He wasn’t afraid of anything. Even when he’d injured himself, and his future in wrestling was uncertain, he wasn’t afraid. Fear wasn’t a word that was in his vocabulary, let alone an emotion in his head.

Which meant that he couldn’t put a name to the shiver that ran down his spine as he watched Oba Femi toss Axiom across the ring like he was nothing. He had no clue why his hands were shaking and his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest as he watched Oba grab Axiom by the neck and slam him to the mat. The most he could say was maybe he was just nervous, which wasn’t an emotion he felt often, but it was still something that he knew well enough.

But no. This was more than nerves–he knew that much. Because nerves wouldn’t make his knees feel like mush with each punch that landed on his partner’s jaw. Nor would nerves cause his stomach to feel as though someone dropped a bowling ball into it, and let it roll around. Nor would nerves cause a cold sweat to trickle down his back.

Nathan Frazer’s first true feeling of fear was watching, near helpless, as Oba Femi all but murdered his tag team partner on live television.

When Axiom had told him the week before that he had gone to Ava to get a match against Oba, Nathan had felt the shiver of fear, though he wasn’t able to call it that yet. Not only was he worried, because he had gotten them a tag team match later that same night, but he was also petrified, because he knew first hand what Oba was capable of. He had been pretty badly banged up by Oba at Deadline, when the big man had entered the Iron Survivor match as a mystery competitor. Nathan had quickly felt the effects of facing him, having left the match with a fractured nose and bruised ribs.

He could hardly stomach the idea of what Axiom’s fate would be when the bell finally rang, and he’d spent the last week beating himself up about Axiom even getting the match.

If I had just been stronger. If I had just acted like I was fine. If–

It was pointless thinking.

All Nathan could do right at that moment was watch as Oba straddled his partner, throwing rapid punches to his face, laughing as each one connected with a nasty cracking sound. His stomach twisted, his jaw tightening–and the ref wasn’t stepping in, just letting Oba do what he wanted. A split second later, he held Axiom over his head with one hand, parading him around the ring like a toy before unceremoniously dropping him at his feet.

Nathan had to turn away at the sound of Axiom’s pained groans, not wanting the masked man to see him tear up.

Oba was just playing with him at this point, tossing him around for no real reason. Perhaps it was a message for his opponent at New Year’s Evil, Trick Williams, or perhaps he was just trying to put the locker room on notice, but either way, he could have stopped. A long, long time ago.

A loud crack snapped Nathan’s attention back to the ring. He didn’t see what had happened, but what he did see was Axiom face down on the mat, cradling his masked face. All Nathan could really process were the crimson bubbles on the mat, seeping into the white fabric. And coughing. Lots of coughing from Axiom, each cough sending more crimson spittle onto the mat through the mesh fabric of his mask.

And Oba still didn’t plan to stop, nor did the ref plan to stop him, it seemed. Like a wolf circling its prey, he crept closer to the barely moving Spaniard, ready to pounce.

He could hear Booker T talking behind him, saying enough was enough and this had to stop, Vic Joseph quietly agreeing with him.

He let the titles clatter to the ground without a second thought, and slid under the ropes.

Throwing himself over his unmoving partner might’ve been the easiest decision he had ever made. But as he threw his shaking hand up, like a flag of surrender, he wondered if this would be enough. Enough for the referee to finally realize Axiom was hurt. Enough for Oba to realize maybe he had gone a little too far in his show of power.

Axiom let out a sharp cough from behind Nathan.

“Oba, c’mon mate. He- He’s done. You-” He didn’t know what to say to get him to stop. He looked to the referee instead, changing tactics. “He’s hurt. You know he’s hurt. Call it off. Oba won.”

Axiom coughed again, hacking this time as though the blood were curdling in his throat. He turned to the side, retching, blood splattering out of his mask and onto the mat.

He needed that mask off.

Fuck.

“He- He needs to go to medical. Call it off.” He was getting desperate. “Call it off!”

Oba took a step closer, taking the ref’s inaction as motivation.

Fuck.

He had to do something. Axiom was still retching behind him. He couldn’t let him puke in the mask, or suffocate himself, or even just keep bleeding.

A word popped into his mind in that moment, all of his denial about it washing away.

Fear.

He was scared. Not for himself, but for the man laying behind him. He was in a situation no one chose to protect him from, save for Nathan, who had been begging Ava all week to call the Oba match off. And now he was hurt; even more banged up than Nathan had been after his run-in with Oba at Deadline.

Nathan had the thought, for a split moment, that this was the universe’s way of punishing him. He had been an awful tag team partner, always choosing to focus on himself rather than their team. From the Speed tournament, to the Heritage Cup, to the NXT title, he only had a one track mind. A mind that had pushed the tag titles out of his priorities completely, only choosing to care about them when his singles endeavors blew up in his face.

Yet, through all of it, Axiom had stuck next to him. He’d refused to give up on Nathan. And all Nathan had done to repay him was get him stuck in two matches in one night–surely, this was the universe punishing Nathan for his neglect.

Tears pricked his eyes. He was so deep in his own regret that he almost didn’t catch the bell finally ringing, the referee finally stepping between the giant and the pair on the mat. Mike Rome called out that Oba was the winner of the match due to referee stoppage, and Oba was promptly escorted to the back–but not before he shot a wicked laugh and wink to Nathan.

Had to be the universe punishing him.

He let a shaky breath out as he turned around, his hand finding Axiom’s head. He lifted it into his lap, waiting for the medical team to get into the ring. He tried to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyes; He refused to cry in front of the cameras. Or in front of anyone, really, but definitely not in front of the cameras.

All he could do, before the medical team pulled Axiom off of him and onto a stretcher, was whisper “I’m sorry.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“You have to call the tag title match off.” He didn’t wait to be invited into her office. Axiom was at the forefront of his mind–he had caught a glimpse of him in the trainer’s room, his mask pulled off his face. He didn’t stay to stare, but from what he had seen, bruises littered his skin, and a steady stream of blood trickled from his nose. He didn’t think it was broken, but he’d also never seen so much blood come out of a nose before. One of the medical staff had confirmed he had a few fractured ribs, and that was all Nathan needed to storm off to find Ava.

“Nathan, you know I can’t do that.”

She was the one who knowingly let them request double duty. He was frustrated, to say the least, and refusing to call the match off when his partner was laying on a cot, barely able to breathe, was… infuriating.

“Why not?” He shook his head. “Axiom can barely move.”

“I understand that, but I already promised Gallus the match. I can’t just take it away from them.” Ava said, her voice calm. He knew she wanted to tell him to get out of her office, that much was written all over her face. At least she wasn’t screaming at him, yet.

“Reschedule it. We’ll still give them the match, but it can’t be tonight. Go to medical. Look at him. Try to tell me, honestly, that he’s fit to compete tonight!” He shot back. To Nathan’s credit, he really was trying to keep his cool.

“I can’t just reschedule a title match. It’s also in,” She glances at the clock on the wall, and then to the monitor just behind Nathan. “Ten minutes. I can’t cancel a match that close. If Axiom can’t compete, then…”

He’d have to defend by himself. He got her drift.

“Why won’t anyone just listen to me tonight? First that referee and now you.” Nathan ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a deep breath. “Ava. Please. I don’t… I don't want to lose the titles while he’s laid up in a cot. Forget me, I don’t want to ruin his title run because he’s hurt. Please.”

“Nathan. I’m telling you, firmly, that I can’t cancel the match. Why do you care so much, anyway? Any other time that you’re in here, you’re at Axiom’s throat. If anything, I’m doing you a favor.”

His palm collided with the table with a loud smack before he could stop himself, his face flushing.

“Why in the world would you ever think that this is doing me a favor?” His mind raced a thousand miles an hour, fury waiting in the back of his throat.

“Because you don’t act like you really care about your tag team. You’ve been digging for singles opportunities the entire time you’ve been champion, Nathan. Why is this suddenly something you’re worried about?”

“Are you-” He scoffed and ran his hands down his face. “Axiom is my tag team partner. I care about him. Hell, I love him. Just like he said he’d do anything for me, I would do anything for him. And even if I wanted to exclusively be a single’s star, I still wouldn’t want to see him hurt.”

“I’m not sure what else to tell you, then. It’s out of my hands.”

“You refuse to let Jaida Parker pull double duty, but it’s just fine when it’s Axiom and I?” He sighed, defeat weighing down his body. He wasn’t changing her mind, clearly. “Not sure what we’ve ever done to you, Ava, but whatever it is can’t warrant this treatment.”

He shouldered his title and stalked out of the room without another word, letting the door slam shut behind him.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Nathan hated crying. He hated how it made his face red and splotchy when he was done. He hated how it gave him a piercing headache that wouldn’t go away for hours. He hated how it made his face feel sticky and how it made his eyes burn. But more than all of that, he hated how weak it made him feel.

He knew he was allowed to cry, but it never erased the feeling of shame that would wash over him every time a tear or two slipped out.

He had told himself when he held Axiom in the ring that he wouldn’t cry. He had to be strong with a clear head, or otherwise he’d be going back to medical after the bell rang to give Axiom even more bad news.

But when he stepped into the locker room, and multiple pairs of eyes locked onto him, he lost his resolve, just like that. He kept his eyes on his feet as he grabbed his gear, his favorite blue and green one, and scurried into the bathroom to throw it on.

He still kept a steady focus on his feet when he re-emerged. He took a seat in his locker, holding both titles in his hands.

Really, what the hell was he supposed to say to Axiom when he returned to medical after the match? What type of apology would ever fix the mess Nathan had gotten them into?

Those thoughts weren’t what finally broke him, though. Instead, it was Dante Chen, perching gently in the cubby next to him.

“You okay, Nathan?” His voice was soft.

“What do you mean, am I okay? I’m fine. I’ve never-” He blinked once, and then swallowed, trying to push the lump in his throat down. “I’ve never felt better, really.”

“C’mon, anyone can see that’s a lie.” Dante was one of Nathan’s favorite people in the locker room, their arguments be damned, but God, did he hate how observant he was. Or maybe it really just was written all over Nathan’s face. He didn’t know for sure.

“I don’t lie.” He muttered, bending over to tie the laces on his boot.

“Hm.” They sat in silence for a second, Dante watching as Nathan finished getting ready. “He’s going to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. But ‘going to be okay’ isn’t going to save our tag titles.” His eyes burned, and he knew what was coming. He kept his head down. No way… No way was he letting Dante see him cry. And he knew there was a camera somewhere in the room, recording them, sharing it with the WWE Universe. They had to build the drama somehow. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Are you seriously… blaming yourself?” Dante cocked his head, eyebrow furrowed. “Axiom asked for that match against Oba himself, Nathan. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes! It was my fault entirely! Because I ran off and got into Iron Survivor in the first place! That’s why I got hurt!” His voice rose against his better judgement, until he was almost screaming the words at Dante. A hot tear raced down his cheek. “If I hadn’t gotten hurt, Axiom wouldn’t have felt like he needed to get a match to defend me. We wouldn’t be in this stupid tag team match either if I had just used my stupid brain!”

And there it was; Weeks, months, almost a year's worth of guilt finally flooding out of him. He couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t even going to try. The tears were already flowing, and he could barely catch his breath as Dante pulled him upright and wrapped his arms firmly around him.

“I fucked up so bad, Dante.” He muttered, burying his face into the other man’s neck. Everything had come crashing down on him, and tonight was it. He just knew it. Everything he worked so hard to build with Axiom would be gone, because if they didn’t have the titles, what reason would Axiom really have to stay with him?

He was nothing but a selfish hot head. Who would want to continue to team with someone who only thought about themselves?

Forget the fact that he still went out to fight alongside Axiom when he was hurt himself. And forget the time he broke every driving law imaginable as he rushed to be by Axiom’s side in a match he didn’t even know they had. Forget every single time he pressed his forehead to Axiom’s and told him that no matter what happened, he would always love and care about him.

Forget that. Because he had been selfish in all of those moments, and it led to Axiom getting hurt.

“You didn’t, Nathan. You had goals you wanted to achieve. That’s pretty standard for any wrestler. You just… happened to have a tag team to worry about too.” Dante’s response was rational. It made sense, and he was right, sure. But Nathan needed someone to blame, and he couldn’t blame Axiom, because he truly wasn’t to blame in any of this.

He almost missed the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, but he caught it, just so. He glanced up, through vision blurred by tears, to see Axiom limping toward him, mask pulled haphazardly over his face. He quickly and gently pushed away from Dante, blinking in confusion.

“Ax?” His voice was hoarse–fuck. It was obvious he was crying. “What- You should be resting. I- I can carry the team tonight. This is my responsibility-”

“No, Nathan. No, it isn’t.” Axiom placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We’re a team, amigo. We both put in the work, hurt or not.”

“I-” He sniffled, cringing internally at the sound. He looked so stupid right now, he just knew it. “No, you.. You need to rest and recover. I was the one that got us into this stupid situation. I’m the one that needs to deal with the consequences.”

Axiom stared at him silently. Nathan really wished he would take the damn mask off. He was impossible to read with it on.

“I was the one that asked for the match against Oba, Nathan.” His voice was matter-of-fact. Just the same as always. “How could that possibly be your fault?”

“I- because I got myself into Iron Survivor in the first place, and then got hurt, and because I got hurt you decided you needed to defend me. So it’s my fault.”

“Alright. No–I chose to go after Oba on my own.” Axiom’s hand fell on his bandaged ribs, his shoulders tensing slightly. “And no matter how banged up I may be, I don’t regret it. Because it was for you. Because like I said last week, I would do anything for you Nathan, no matter the cost.”

“I’m just… I’ve been a terrible partner. And you’re always the one paying the price for that-”

Axiom chuckled before placing a finger to Nathan’s lips.

“Perhaps we need to have a longer conversation about all of this, but Nathan, I don’t blame you for being ambitious. I may get frustrated, but I understand it.” He moved his hand to the back of Nathan’s neck, and pushed him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“I just need you to stay back here. Ava told me to defend the belts myself. I don’t want you getting even… more hurt.” His brown eyes were wide, pleading with Axiom. Another tear fell down his cheek, splattering onto the locker room floor unceremoniously. He couldn’t focus on anything else Axiom had said. It would force him to actually acknowledge the chance that his partner didn’t actually hate him.

“Nathan, mi amor.” His voice had dropped, only loud enough for Nathan to hear. “We are a team. Everything we do, we do together. If we go out there, and we lose, it’s okay, because we did it together. And if we win? Even better, because we did it together. There is nothing in the world that could ever stop me from being by your side.”

They locked eyes for a moment, and though Nathan couldn’t see Axiom’s, he knew they were trained on him. Nathan was the first to break away, taking a deep breath. He tried his best to push the rest of the tears down, to stomp down everything else he was feeling. He knew Axiom was right.

If they did it together, it wouldn’t be so bad.

“We have to go out there,” Nathan muttered, eyes locked back on his shoes. “Like, now.”

“Yes, I know.” Axiom reached forward with both hands, one grabbing his title out of Nathan’s cubby, and the other grasping Nathan’s hand. “We go out there, win or lose, together.”

“Together.” Nathan echoed, softly. He looked at Axiom’s hand in his, and took a breath as Axiom led him into the hall and towards gorilla.

Win or lose. It would be together.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗