and WHEN are they putting trick williams on smackdown. not only does he deserve to go main roster 100% but also HIS BOYFRIEND???? he was already presenting clear symptoms of Ilja Deficiency (starting a feud with the first platinum blond guy he encountered) earlier this year and now they actually have a shot at reuniting...
Hi love! I dunno if you still write them, but for the there was only one bed/sharing a bed prompts I'd LOVE to see Trickunov & 3 💚
sharing a bed prompts: OPEN
[set in an imaginary universe in which ilja is NOT off injured and everything is hunky dory. could arguably fit nicely as a sequel to my trickunov series on ao3 but you don't need to read it for this.]
Ilja is a strange guy.
Case in point:
In an industry built on stabbing your best friends in the back for a sliver of success, Ilja has rigidly maintained his position at the top of the food chain while never sacrificing his sense of personal morality. It's damn near miraculous that he's lasted as long as he has without breaking somebody's heart, the way the rest of them had to to get where they are.
He's a savage man, who lives for the fight. By all rights, he should be universally detested for the easy way he bleeds on them all and makes them bleed in turn. Yet, Trick is yet to hear anyone he trusts speak a word against him. Even the people who have battered themselves raw against his unshakable walls respect him, genuinely enjoy his company even after he's shoved them tumbling down to the end of the line. Ilja never has to buy his own drinks.
And he's bigger than every room he's ever stood in. Trick is a big guy, by nature and nurture both, and he speaks with a big voice. He can fill a room, command a crowd. But Ilja dwarfs them all from barely five feet off the ground. People always make room for Ilja because his very existence demands it.
Strange, then, how Trick always seems to wake up these days with him curled up on top of him like a damn cat.
They're in Portland this week, Ilja tearing shit up on Raw and Trick along for the ride because that's just what they do now. It's a world away from Florida, different down to the dirt and the trees. Not that he'd know; hotel rooms look pretty much the same in every state. But it's good. Good to be here, good to be bumping fists with the main roster, accustomed to having him hanging out backstage even if they don't know why he's around so often now. Good to watch Ilja cement his reputation as an impossible-to-keep-down bastard.
This bit is good, too. Coming back to Generic Hotel Room No. 163, where both of their bags are in the closet and both of their toiletries are in the bathroom and both of their individual quirks are on display - Ilja, who can't sleep with the windows closed even in the dead of winter, and Trick, who shoves all the pillows but one off his side of the bed the second he opens the door.
He'd complain about the cold, but he never wakes up feeling it.
For all his attitude and his bigger-than-life demeanour, Ilja's taken to crawling over Trick in his sleep. His face is pressed into the crook of his neck, firm enough that Trick doesn't know how he isn't suffocating. Their legs are tangled together, one arm planted on the bed next to Trick, the other curled around his shoulder. He's a tactile guy - never shy about a hand on his arm to get his attention, dry kisses pressed to his temple, a palm cupped around the back of his neck. It's the kind of thing Trick acclimated to long before they became... this, Ilja's fondness for physical contact stretching into the platonic as well, but his habit of crawling onto Trick's chest in his sleep is a relatively new development.
He never seems surprised to be there when he wakes up, which makes Trick wonder if it really is happening in his sleep, or if Ilja just waits until Trick's out cold to settle down where he wants to be. He's brilliantly respectful of all of Trick's limits, never tries to argue back when he shys away from something, but he has developed a subtle habit of pressing on boundaries with just enough pressure to see if there's any give in the structure of them.
He'd back off if Trick asked him to. If Trick decided that he didn't want to go half the night with 5'5 of lean muscle resting on his ribs, he has no doubt that Ilja would somehow manage to contain himself to his side of the bed with absolutely zero fanfare at all.
The thing is, he reasons with himself, alone in the early morning where it's safe to, he doesn't think he's gonna ask.
Lost in thought, Trick absently traces his fingers down the line of Ilja's spine, pads of his fingertips skating over the bumps of his vertabrae. Ilja stirs slightly, exhaling hard, blinking as he wakes.
"Hello," he mumbles, accent thicker in the morning. He rubs his nose against the skin under Trick's ear, then shifts slightly as if to roll off of him.
On impulse, Trick holds him by the waist, keeping him where he is.
"Morning," Trick says, "Comfortable?"
Ilja responds by immediately settling back down where he was, adjusting himself so he's more fully rested on Trick's chest, sparing a brief kiss to his throat, "Very."
Neither one of them are great at lying around in bed, but there's a few peaceful minutes of silence, interupted only by the mismatched beats of their hearts, deep breaths, gentle scraping of Ilja's nails back and forth against Trick's shoulder.
There's a kneejerk reaction, baulking as his brain unhelpfully thinks, I could get used to this, that makes him freeze in concern. Just as quickly as it arrives, it passes. He's already used to it. He's perfectly happy with the arrangement, even though one of his arms is kinda numb.
Nature wins out eventually though, because Ilja is a solid weight on his torso and Trick really needs a piss.
He makes a disgrunted noise when Trick tips him sideways onto his back, laughing.
"Back in a sec," he mutters. Ilja just grunts, scrubbing a hand down his face.
When Trick gets back, he's sat upright against the headboard. His eyes are clear of sleep, clearly very pleased with himself.
"What are you grinning about?"
"Nothing in particular," he says, "Can I not just be in a good mood?"
Trick eyes him suspiciously.
"Not when he have a eight o'clock flight, you can't, you freak," he snorts, leaning up against the bathroom doorjamb. They'll be cutting it fine, since the flight from Oregon to Florida is a bitch of a journey, with a nightmarish layover in North Carolina, but he should be back in time for NXT.
Common sense would dictate that Trick just wouldn't wake up on the other side of the country the day he needs to be back in Florida for a match, but somehow, that never crossed his mind when he booked the ticket to follow Ilja to Raw.
"We must find reasons to be happy even under difficult circumstances," Ilja says sagely, which is doing nothing to rebute the freak allegations, "Shower?"
Trick raises an eyebrow, "We have to leave in like forty minutes."
"A good thing we can save time by sharing, then," he grins, like a damn liar. He knows damn well that showering together is never quicker than seperately, because Ilja is a menace and Trick generally considers himself to have a pretty good sense of self-discipline but even he's not totally immune to temptation.
Trick winning back the NXT title the night after Ilja's injury is announced has me all over the place. You'd better be zoom calling that man, Trick. >:(
