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Sami Zayn and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Idea

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Sami knew it was the worst idea he’d ever had, but Bayley stressed that he should go for it anyway because “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” He’d wanted to argue how that quote was theoretically unsound, that you can try and still fail, but then Bayley looked at him with such an earnest expression, one that hoped so much for him—for them, oh God—and, well. If Bayley believed an Armani brand ambassador could fall for a ginger, Archie-reading, teetotaling ska nerd from Montreal, who was he to deny her that feeling.

Still, this was a bad idea. Just awful. But it wasn’t until Sami stood before Finn’s front door, cardboard box in hand, that its utter stupidity sunk in. Why was he doing this? Why risk ruining an amazing friendship? He could happily live his entire life being friends with Finn. There were six billion people in the world, and surely he could find someone else to go to live shows with, or marvel at American oddities with, or possibly love forever. It wasn’t a priority to date Finn. It wasn’t.

Sami’s phone vibrated, and a text from Bayley popped up on the lock screen. ‘Good luck!’, followed by a trail of heart emojis. When he noticed the time, he realized he’d been standing outside Finn’s house for close to ten minutes. He sighed, put his phone away, and knocked. It was now or never.

Finn answered, and it hurt Sami to see Finn still on crutches. Although there was never a good time to sprain your ankle, you never wanted to risk getting even so much as a papercut during Wrestlemania season. “Hey! Wasn’t expectin' you. C’mon in.” For someone who wasn’t expecting him, Finn sure made the effort to greet him like he did, struggling to hold the door open until Sami entered and closed it for them. “So what brings you—oh.” Finn noticed the box, though with the way Sami held it up in between them, it was hard not to. “For me?”

“Yeeaah.” He probably should’ve waited until he and Finn were sitting in the living room instead of standing in his corridor, but Finn was already taking the box and looking inside, and shit, this was really happening.

In a way, Sami wished they were doing this at the Performance Center, where the cameras could permanently capture the look on Finn’s face as he pulled out a three-dimensional heart made of red LEGOs. There was something oddly beautiful about his shock, like he was staring into the Ark of the Covenant. “This is…wow, you made this?” Finn dropped the box and balanced on his crutches as he turned the heart over in his hands. “You, um.” Finn wouldn’t stop blinking. “You put a lot of work into this.”

Sami shoved his hands into his pockets. Was this off to a promising start? He couldn't tell. “I followed a diagram I found online. Um.” He swallowed hard. “It opens.”

“It opens?” Sami chewed on the inside of his cheek as Finn found the latch on the pointed end of the heart and cracked it open, held his breath as Finn’s eyes widened at the sight of the words “DATE? Y/N” written in white LEGOs on the inside, which Sami couldn’t see from his vantage point but knew were there because he’d snapped the bricks in place last night, thinking it was hilarious. He wasn’t thinking that anymore. “Oh. Oh.” Finn still hadn’t looked at him, and Sami resisted the urge to scratch the back of his neck or succumb to any other nervous tics. “I…I need to sit down.”

Sami picked up the LEGO heart and followed Finn to the living room, and he waited for Finn to get comfortable in his recliner before setting the heart on the coffee table. By now, his own heart had sunk past his feet and become part of the floor. A floor heart. Which reminded him of The Telltale Heart, and now he contemplated how a floor heart could affect the resale value of Finn’s house in the future. And this was when Sami became aware of his increasingly erratic thought process, and how there was no way to salvage the sheer awkwardness of this conversation. “You know, this—I’m sorry, this is. I’m, um.” Sami pointed his thumb back over his shoulder and started walking toward the door.

“Sami.”

He’d already spun on his heel when Finn said his name, his hands in loose fists as he turned back toward him. “Yeah?”

Finn gestured toward an opaque plastic storage bin next to his TV. “Do me a favor and open that, will you? Look inside.”

Sami dragged his hand over his face, counting his breaths as he crouched before the bin and followed Finn’s instruction, peeling off the lid with little effort. He didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t what appeared to be an in-progress, three-dimensional Sami Zayn statue also made of LEGOs. The torso was still missing arms, but the legs were finished, and the attention to detail, right down to the Arabic letters on his tights, rendered Sami breathless. There was no way Finn could’ve found a diagram for this.

Sami held the bust of his head, which hadn’t yet been snapped onto the neck. He traced his fingertips over the hairline, the nose, the eyes. His hands trembled. “…What.”

“Been workin’ on it for a while now,” Finn said, a note of hesitation in his voice. “Was plannin’ on tellin’ you one day. Guess you beat me to it.”

“So this is—oh boy.” Sami licked his lips, mind reeling with possibilities. He wondered if this surge of joy, this sudden need to lasso the world into a hug, was what it felt like to be Bayley all the time. “I—wow.”

“Yeah.”

Sami put away the LEGO pieces, careful not to undo any of Finn’s work. Once he slid the bin back into place, Sami cast a glance at Finn, who looked at him the way Gable looked at Jordan, like he’d found the part of himself he didn't know had gone missing. His heart, no longer on the floor, thundered inside his chest, and he threw his head back and laughed. “So do we run toward each other now like we’re in The Notebook? That’s how this works, right?”

Finn laughed, and it was such a gentle sound, but that was Finn. Deceptively gentle. “I’m in no condition to run, but how about this.” He pushed himself off the recliner and stood, shifting his weight to his good foot. His hooded eyes always gave him a perpetually worried look, but right now, there was only warmth. “You come over here, let me climb on your back, you take me to the bedroom, and we go from there.”

Somehow, the idea of Finn wanting to fuck him was less ridiculous than Finn wanting to date him—a fuck didn’t have to mean anything. That didn’t stop Sami’s face from flushing with anticipation, though, nor did it stabilize his jimmy legs as he approached Finn. When Sami was close enough, he didn’t turn around right away, daring to brush a kiss to Finn’s mouth instead. Finn’s lips were as soft as he knew they’d be, and he wanted nothing more than to revel in the pleasure that mouth could bring. Yet even though Finn made his intentions clear, for some reason Sami felt the need to apologize. “I had to do that, I—”

Finn silenced him with another kiss, a perfect seal of mouths, a scratch of beards. As Finn clutched the back of Sami’s neck and held him in place, only one thought crossed Sami’s mind.

Best. Idea. Ever.