Starter for @lavmisc for Kota and Adam
The door latched behind Adam. He blinked against the brighter lights of the locker room, hand rubbing down his face. Sweat drenched his skin and clothes. His curls hung limp over his shoulders. The walls of the room vibrated with cheers, chants, stamping feet, the raw excitement of a climaxing, big main event. A show to tear down the roof, hopefully not literally, Adam chuckled at his own bad joke. He turned around, rolling out his neck, blinking away his exhaustion, a little sore, a little tired, a good match after glow. For a second, he stood in the doorway, looking over the disheveled room. A couple upturned bags from when the Bucks almost misplaced a boot. It was exactly where Matt always put it because, of course it was. Then a half-dozen empty water bottles and a half-dozen, half-drunk water bottles. Ibushi sitting in a chair by the back wall. Adam’s phone, charging on the bench, blown-up with notifications. He wandered across the room to pick-up his device and filter through all the stupid texts.
Ibushi sitting in a chair by the back wall.
Adam exclaimed and almost jumped out of his boots. His phone slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor like a bar of wet soap. Adam pressed his palm to his chest, feeling his stuttering heartbeat. It wasn’t anything to do with Ibushi, just his total unregistering of the other human being in the room. Except, looking at the other man, sitting quietly, passively, and still, alone for what may be the first time ever, without Kenny or Cody or the Bucks to mediate the interaction, Adam found himself at a total loss of words.
Kenny strained in his hands and Adam couldn’t remember why he was so pissed. Just heard the stupid shit that Cody said, all-up in his head. And then Ibushi, a long-lost tag partner, of a dynamic he’d never understand, rushing into the ring for the big, dramatic rescue. And later, squabbles, fights, battles with Ibushi. Asking for whatever Kota Ibushi’s got, to show Adam-- and eating shit for his arrogance.
They were cool now, in theory.
“Oh, hey, man, didn’t see you there,” Adam stuttered. He stooped down to grab his phone. Did Ibushi speak English? Adam had gotten inconclusive answers. “Uh, Kenny’s uh, talking to some guys in suits, if you were looking for him. He’ll be back-- later.”
Adam trailed off, thumb yanked over his shoulder to show the theoretical location of Kenny. In the past few minutes the noises from the arena had died down. An unnerving silence, within and without this room. Adam blinked, lipped his lips and clutched his phone to his chest.
“And I know, we’re uh, cool, it’s cool now,” Adam said. He scratched at the back of his head. “Everything’s been sorted out, but I don’t think I ever got to apologize to you.... in, person. So, like, all that shit, um, with Cody and almost hitting you with a chair and being an otherwise actual ass. I’m--”
He took a deep breath, and nodded, lifting his eyes to meet Ibushi’s. “Sorry. Like... shit, do you even speak English? Do you understand anything I’m saying? Should’ve waited for Kenny.” Adam scrubbed his hands down his face, tried to stretch his brain around the Duolingo lessons and all the pointers Kenny gave him on the bus rides.
With halting, stuttering, and very shitty Japanese, Adam did his best rendition of his previous apology, but hopefully in a language Ibushi could understand. Kenny said his accent sucked ass but it was ‘endearing.’ Old ladies always giggled whenever Adam opened his mouth so hopefully that did something for Ibushi too. Surely, the effort counted for something And after what Adam was certain was the worst apology ever uttered on the face of the planet Earth, he finished in the most simple, clear statement he could muster, in a completely universal language:
“What I’m saying is I owe you a drink.”
