Pairing: Kenny/Kota (golden lovers)
Words: 1.9k
Rating: T
A/N: I was talking to @breadclubrising about how cute it would be if Kenny and Kota talked about how they would continue their own story. Answer: Very Cute
Tags (i’m stealing @breadclubrising‘s tag list let me know if you don’t want to be tagged): @kidvoodoo @newjapan@kazuchika@wookieelover101 @geek-fangirl@lostsassafrass@brittany012364 @culturalrebel @sailoralderaan@mitchtheficus@kiwibunny @mistressbalor@50shadesofkennyomega @leelakoiwolff@daintymissdevitt@ultrabarbe1981-blog @mithen @nikkisflair
Kenny jostled his laptop when he flopped gracelessly onto his bed, some kind of sick off-pink protein shake in a glass bottle cradled in the crook of his elbow. Kota peered out of the screen at him, all dark eyes and cupid’s bow and distracting shirtlessness.
“Those drinks are disgusting,” Kota said reproachfully, the corners of his mouth tucking down. Kenny gasped defensively and held the drink closer to his chest, balancing it like a baby.
“You’ve never tried them!”
“I’ve tasted them,” Kota replied. The aftertaste lingers in your mouth went unspoken, but Kenny could see it writ large across Kota’s face. There was something very expressive about the way his nose crinkled and his brows folded down. It spoke volumes about how whey protein tasted off of Kenny’s tongue. Apparently, not great.
Kenny waved it off, settling more comfortably against his pile of pillows and drawing his knees up to his chest.
“So I want you to get to the final,” Kenny said, uncapping his bottle.
Kota’s eyebrow inched up. “Alright, I’ll get right on that,” He snarked, shifting up the bed on his side of the screen. “Let me just pull out my magical booking pants, where I get to book myself--”
“No-- shut up, listen. I want you to get into the final, right-- as, you know. The bullet club leader, right? Because I’m still in love with you?”
“Mmhm,” Kota hummed. “And you’re absolutely sure you’re going to make it into the finals?”
“Well, I hope so,” Kenny hedged. “But, uh-- as him, you know, I’m sure I will. He knows that he deserves it and-- I don’t know, I think more than that, he needs to make it to the finals? He’s under a lot of pressure, you know?”
“Aaah,” Kota said sagely, leaning out of frame to grab something. Kenny watched the smooth stretch of skin over his ribs ripple attractively. “But what if I don’t make it to the finals, and you do? I put on good matches, right, but I don’t win-- blame the booking, whatever, we know it’s because I left but we can pretend-- but I win… not all of my matches but the important ones, with a knee?”
Kenny could feel himself brighten from head to toe. “My knee?”
“You don’t have a copyright on knees, Kennytan. But yeah, I think so. If I could finish Tanahashi with a knee--”
Kenny narrowed his eyes at the screen. Kota looked this close to orgasmic.
“I don’t like you looking that way when you think of another man.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Just think of the drama if I ignored you the whole tournament but went and stole all your moves like they weren’t even yours.”
Kenny made a mildly distressed whining noise, “Don’t ignore me…”
“You big baby, we are talking right now. Don’t you think the payoff would be better if we didn’t speak until we had a match?”
Kenny could feel himself starting to pout but was powerless to stop it. “But Ibutan. I miss you-- in a wrestling way.”
“Don’t be petulant, Kennytan. You can always come and wrestle with me, if you know what I mean.” In case Kenny didn’t know what he meant, he waggled his eyebrows in a lascivious manner.
“I actually did want to talk in person-- I was thinking maybe I could do some high-flying moves, and then--”
“Tell me in person!” Kota laughed, leaving Kenny a touch winded. Jesus Fuck, he was so beautiful. Kenny despaired of the rest of the population. How could the rest of the world survive knowing that Kota existed and they didn’t get to text him good morning, let alone Skype him and blow kisses into the webcam?
“Okay, I’ll be just a little bit,” Kenny made a goofy kissy face at the screen before snapping his laptop shut and abandoning it on his bed. The glass bottle went into a bag to recycle later, along with a packet of sticky notes, some sharpie markers, and a couple of rolls of tape. When it came to fantasy booking, Kenny was always well-prepared.
Kenny toed on his shoes with the bag slung over his shoulder, not bothering to tie them. It was only a couple of floors, and he was… hopefully coordinated enough to navigate a few flights of stairs without busting ass tripping on a shoelace. Hopefully.
He slipped out the door, letting the lock click shut behind him, then had a minor spasm of panic thinking that he may have forgotten the room key inside the room. But no, it was fine. It was in his wallet which was in his pants, like it always was. Jesus Christ.
He was close by the stairs and he took them two at a time. It would make him seem over-eager if he knocked on Kota’s door less than 3 minutes after shutting the laptop, but frankly, he was nothing if not predictable in his over-eagerness. It would be embarrassing if anyone knew, but the stairwell was empty and there was nothing Kenny could do that would surprise Kota anymore. He’d already gotten all of his embarrassing antics out of the way in their first two years of dating.
Besides, Kenny thought as he shouldered open the stairwell door that guarded Kota’s floor, anyone who thought that Kenny was the embarrassing one had clearly never seen Kota coo over his cat for fifteen minutes, even though Hoshi was constantly pawing at the door for attention when they did anything that she couldn’t be included in.
Like trying to have sex.
Though, to be fair, Kenny did relate to that level of neediness. He, too, wanted to be with Kota all the time, getting his ears stroked and being told what a sweet, soft boy he was. It hadn’t happened yet, but Kenny was willing to bet that the experience would be well-worth the five year wait.
Kenny tapped on Kota’s door with his knuckles, the room number long since memorized. Shave-and-a-hair-cut, but the door swung open before he could finish, as it always did.
“You know that you could just knock?” Kota asked. The way his mouth quirked up into a smirk was even more attractive in person. Kenny despaired.
“This makes me feel like a spy,” Kenny sniffed, herding Kota into his own room and kicking the door shut behind them. As soon as it snapped closed, Kota was in his space, pressing Kenny up against a wall and kissing his mouth, his chin, where his dimple would be if he were smiling. Apparently the taste of the protein shake wasn’t that much of a deterrent.
“Mm,” Kenny protested mildly, lifting his chin so Kota could suck biting kisses into his throat. “I wanted to talk about booking?”
Kota pulled away, looking mildly incredulous. “I thought we were going to talk about wrestling.” He did the eyebrow thing again, to make his point clear.
“Oh, I mean--” Kenny said, feeling a little silly for wanting to talk about wrestling when they could be wrestling, eyebrow waggle. “--I brought post-it notes.”
Kota started laughing, pressing his forehead into the crook of Kenny’s neck. “I love you,” He told Kenny’s t-shirt. “I love you so much. You said you wanted to do flips?”
Kenny kissed Kota’s bottom lip, because it was wet and shiny and he looked very pretty. Kissing Kota’s freshly kiss-swollen mouth was pretty much a compulsion, even if Kenny really did want to talk about the parallels in their narrative and how to reflect them in their movesets.
“Yeah,” He said, gathering himself and slipping past Kota into the room proper. “If you’re going to do knees, I want to do moonsaults. Standing moonsaults? I know that we always both did moonsaults but it’s really more your thing than mine. Or-- missile dropkicks, or those springboard--” Kenny was forced to cut himself off, because Kota was looking at him so fondly that Kenny’s heart stuttered a little. He trailed off into silence.
“Are you writing a love-letter to my wrestling, Kennytan, or are you fantasy calling?”
Kenny opened his mouth. Closed it. “-- Both?” He had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.
Kota kissed his cheek again and climbed onto the bed, settling against the cushions and opening up his own notebook, which had been sitting on top of the covers. Kenny was unsurprised to see that Kota had been taking notes-- when it got right down to it, they were equally nerdy and terrible. Kota just looked hotter while doing it.
“I think you should try bridging your suplexes,” Kota said thoughtfully, jotting something down in a margin. “You always look really hot when you do it.”
Kenny could feel himself starting to blush, even though he also thought that Kota looked really hot when he did any kind of bridge. “That’s not as obvious as a standing moonsault.”
“But you would look really hot.” Kota urged. “And you could do both, of course. Maybe theatrically scan the crowd like you’re looking for me before and after?”
“I’m never theatrical,” Kenny sniffed, bouncing onto the bed and starting to make notes on his post-it note booklet. “All of my actions and reactions are 100% genuine, there is no over-acting in my wrestling.”
“Mmmhm,” Kota hummed in that way he had where it was clear he’d stopped listening and was instead thinking hard about something else. The nonverbal equivalent of a ‘yes dear’. “What if I used the one-winged angel? Would you be mad?”
“No, that would be amazing. You know it’s really hot when you hit my moves, right?”
“No, no-- I know you wouldn’t mind, I mean. In kayfabe, would Kenny Omega be mad that I hit his finisher after ignoring him all tournament?”
Kenny had to consider that, idly doodling circles on his hastily-scrawled post-it list. “I… think so? Especially if I’d been having a hard time hitting it myself, you know? It would push that ‘Kota is better at wrestling without even trying’ angle we’ve had going.”
Kota nodded slowly, writing it down. “You could post about it on Twitter.”
Kenny’s knee-jerk reaction was good luck stopping me, so he supposed that all was working as intended. “It does help that you’re actually a better wres--”
Kota was over him in an instant, pressing warm palms to Kenny’s face and forcing him to meet surprisingly fierce brown eyes. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not-- Kenny.”
“Well--” Kenny said weakly, dropping his post-it notes onto chest and not really minding when they slid off onto the floor. “Ibutan, I mean, objectively,”
“Don’t talk about my best friend that way. Asshole.” Kota brushed a sweet kiss across Kenny’s mouth. “You know you’re good. We’re fucking amazing.” Kota was incredibly foul-mouthed when he was trying to make a point.
“I know, I know,” Kenny mumbled, tipping his face up for more reassuring kisses. He may as well get something out of his bout of mild insecurity. “I’ll do a golden triangle moonsault and when I call it, instead of pointing up I’ll point at you.”
Kota kissed him again, lingeringly, this time. “I’m going to wear an Okada t-shirt.”
Kenny inhaled, offense, for once, not feigned. “You wouldn’t.”
Kota laughed, burying his hands in Kenny’s hair and thumbing at the hollows behind his jaw. “I wouldn’t,” He agreed. “You know I’m always rooting for you.”
Kenny tipped his face into Kota’s palm and kissed the heart line. Kota was right-- they were fucking amazing.
don callis is genuinely one of the most evil wrestling characters in history. he just goes around manipulating young wrestlers for his own benefit, promising them everything until they're worthless to him. somebody STOP him
