Chapter Text
Sydney Bronson did not like to linger. On grudges, and especially not on blessings. Far too easy to take things for granted, to tell himself he’s on solid ground only to have his feet swept up from under him. Makes the fall that much worse, and if there’s one thing he knows is how to take a fall. That’s the school of hard knocks, let go or get dragged down.
But you can’t let go of everything. He let go of his health when he started pumping his body with garbage, and his life nearly followed. So it’s a delicate balancing act, of keeping the shit that matters close to your heart and everything else at arms length. He struggled most with the former. That’s what happens when you’re a born outcast. It’s a shit excuse and he knew it, but this stuff was hard to unlearn when he’d built up his self-image around being alienated, a “bad guy”. It’s been getting easier as of late, though, ever since Chase came into the picture.
Well, more like came back. Now that’s a great way to put the theory into practice: The fact that he was gone for almost a decade? Not important. That he’s here, now (with him)? Very important. The most important. Chase made him soft around the edges and as a result the world would come into focus. Slowed him down enough that he could learn to be grateful for things.
Right now, he was grateful to always be the first to wake up in the morning. With an arm and leg thrown over him and Chase’s snout inches from his, snoring the daylight away. Sydney would hit the sack looking forward to these small morning intermissions, thrilled to uncover facets of Chase that only he was privy to. In the ring Chase was a driven predator, during working hours he was a bug under a microscope, he only ever looked at peace like this.
Sydney wasn’t so naive to think he could “save” Chase from his own demons, or so egotistical that he would want to. He helped coax him out of his shell, sure, but Chase walked this path on his own two legs. That didn’t stop Sydney from wanting to protect him, which in turn made him feel like a fucking cliche. Their relationship, personal and professional, only worked because neither of them were the protective type, but those lines got blurrier after Chase pulled that stunt and broke his ribs. Shit happens, he understood that, but seeing the person he loves bedridden with injuries he himself was partially responsible for had shaken his beliefs just a tad. Was he really a bad person for not wanting anything like that to happen ever again? Did he care what the answer was?
Sydney pushed his luck, tracing gentle lines with his index finger on that belly that stayed delightfully soft no matter how much he worked out. Chase squirmed a bit and a small sound pitched up from his throat, cutting through the intimate silence enveloping them. Honestly unbelievable that Chase got to be this cute while also being the most tormented guy he’d ever met, though maybe those two things were intertwined. Like a kitten in a storm drain or something. But in the future he’d like to see less peril, and more of this. This lazy, blissful domesticity they’ve carved out for themselves within the storm that was their lives.
***
Lingering was all Chase Hunter did. Though he certainly didn’t like it. It just so happened that the chemical cocktail that made up his ego left him sharply aware of his own shortcomings, of things he could have said or done differently. He tried not to think about it. Like being in an art gallery and not daring to look at any of the paintings. Every once in a while he’d catch horrifying glimpses out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave and he couldn’t face it, either. The way things ended with Leo, the wasted years of college, his inadequacy as a performer and as a person. Pushing Sydney away. It weighed on him enough as it was, what was the point of beating himself up further over it? Why do anything at all?
Regardless of how much progress he made, sooner or later his thoughts always circled the drain like this. That’s why he knew that if he was able to escape the stasis he’d sentenced himself to, it was only through sheer luck. Meeting Jenna and being pulled out of the muck by her, landing a contract with this promotion and having to push himself harder than he ever had, being reunited with Leo and finally burying that hatchet. It almost sounded inspirational when he laid it out like this, but he’d been there, trapped in his own skin, dragged kicking and screaming through the whole process. Pure happenstance. Even Sydney.
Especially him. That one racked his brain most of all. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, from the moment they met they were at odds with each other, it wasn’t hard to imagine a world where they ended up sworn enemies instead of the best of friends. And that made his blood run cold, because Sydney was the origin. He was the reason Chase got interested in wrestling to begin with, where would he even be without him?
Well. He was here, now. That counted for something. And perhaps things really were changing, little by little. The night of the championship match remained a hazy memory, not least of all for how many blows to the head he took, but he remembered enough, the stuff that mattered. In terms of talent and storyline, handing Sydney the belt was clearly the correct decision, nobody could convince him otherwise. But the real reason he wouldn’t take it back was that it was his choice, maybe the only one he’d ever made fully of his own volition without anyone else’s influence. He suffered for it, too, which only made it more real, a testament inscribed upon his body in cracked bones and bruised flesh. And that might make him selfish or even an asshole, but he’d spent long enough being a passive player in his own life and he was just about ready to try something else.
Maybe he really didn’t deserve what he had, but for now counting himself lucky was enough. It’s enough.
And he was quite lucky, that Sydney either hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was wide awake as he got fondled or hadn’t called him out on it. That would be just like him. It occurred to him that hooking up with Sydney had also been his decision, but the larger otter’s lips made a very convincing argument. Coercive, even. To be perfectly honest, thinking back on the night Sydney asked him out still made his heart swell, if he’d told him to jump off a building back then there would be nothing left of him but a stain on the pavement.
Sydney just had that disarming effect on people. Even now, in this bedroom. Chase wished he could see Sydney gazing at him, be his own voyeur as the larger otter felt him up all over. Powerless to stop him, not that he ever would with how nice this felt, blind to all but Sydney’s touch and the sensation of his cotton briefs sretched and wrapped tightly around his morning wood. Just lying there not doing much of anything and getting rewarded for it. If only everything else could be so simple. But Sydney’s paw kept straying further down and they had a schedule to adhere to, so before this could turn into something they’d both be too weak to disentangle from, he put those acting chops to good use, slowly cracked his eyes open and spoke in his most convincingly sleep-crusted voice.
***
“Mornin’”
Sydney smiled sweetly. “Hey, champ.” He shook Chase by the shoulder, though the motion was more reminiscent of rocking a cradle. “You’re gonna be late for school.”
Chase huffed. “Funny.” He scooted over so he could recline on his elbows. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who had to drag you out of bed when you stayed over.”
“Yeah, well. Things change.” And he was wrong, for the record. Sydney slept at Chase’s house more times than he could count and the sound of Ms. Hunter banging pots and pans in the morning was a hard one to forget. More often than not Sydney would sneak in uninvited, and it used to drive her crazy. After a while she either got used to it, or took pity on him. She never asked too many questions, but it couldn’t be hard to figure out why a teenage boy was constantly trying to get away from his own home. People in that town loved to gossip, and Sydney overheard more than anyone gave him credit for.
In any case, he didn’t care to argue first thing in the morning. Sydney jutted his chin out, pointing downwards. “Want some help with that?”
Things changed, but Chase waking up full-mast he could be counted on pretty consistently. “I’m good.” He said, sparing only a sidelong glance at his manhood like it was the most casual thing in the world.
“Aw, come on. At least pretend to be bashful.”
Chase planted a quick peck on Sydney’s nose. “Sorry.” He dragged his legs over his side of the bed and sat up, back facing Sydney. “We really are running late.”
Sydney grumbled. “Guess I can’t argue with that…”
One problem with things staying the same? They became routine.
***
Things were looking up for the Pueblo Wrestling Federation. Last year’s Night of Hysteria pay-per-view had been their most successful yet and accrued sales to this day. Meanwhile, the three way championship match between Chase, Leo and Sydney and its shocking conclusion was the talk of every enthusiast forum and social media account, months after the fact. Might sound like small potatoes, but pro-wrestling, especially within the indie scene, was disposable entertainment by its very nature. Promotions in this environment made money by selling short-term experiences, a fun night out, hard enough to stay afloat without trying to make waves. Creating any sort of lasting, memorable impression, was tough as shit. A longform storyline like the one Sydney and Chase had crafted wasn’t exactly a risk, but the expectation they had going in was to make some people clap for them, if they got lucky maybe they’d end up with something they could be proud of.
Instead, Sydney couldn’t go on a video hosting site without finding illegal rips of their matches. The eventual excecutive decision was to start uploading everything aside from the PPVs on their official channel instead of fruitlessly trying to get them taken down. Then people started making compilations, video essays. Sydney changed his profile picture to fanart someone sent him.
Business was booming, and that meant more work for them. Sold out shows for one, and then there were the wrestling lessons, their other source of income. The PWF center was busier than ever with prospective trainees, eager to get on the mat with their home-grown superstars. And maybe more than half of them quit after the first week, and maybe one or two had clearly just been looking to get handsy with Sydney, the reigning champion, or Leo, who still commanded a fanbase worthy of the company’s ace after being dethroned. But hey, their money was good even if the intentions weren’t.
And so, Sydney had his paws full defending the belt and being the de facto face of the promotion while also trying to fulfill his duties as a trainer. He could quit being a trainer if he wanted, mind you. The reason he took the position to begin with was so he didn’t have to scrounge for a day job, he’d done his time in retail and was about as keen to go back to it as he was to doing drugs. In fact, pretty much everyone that worked for this promotion had something else going on to rake in the cash, usually in the line of unglamorous and customer-facing, or, if you had the physique for it and a deficit of shame, there was some good money to be made in the custom match business. Sydney still got calls from the porn companies every now and then, and while he wasn’t morally opposed to it or anything like that, it was probably unadvisable with how many people looked him up online these days.
Point was, between the fat raise to his paycheck and the fact that he and Chase were now essentially roommates, he didn’t need the extra cash from training. Chase had even picked up some freelance writing gigs, turns out even a half-finished college education could get you somewhere in this town. But Sydney genuinely enjoyed being a trainer. It was the most wrestling adjacent thing available short of actual wrestling, but there was a centering aspect to it as well. Made him channel all that pent up violence in a productive direction, all that crap about passing his knowledge down or whatever. Plus, no better way to keep his own fundamentals sharp and present than going toe to toe with a bunch of rookies who took bumps neck first.
Sydney was currently maneuvering one such rising star into position for a bodyslam, scooping up the skinny male coyote so his stomach was laid across Sydney’s shoulder, legs suspended mid-air.
“Alright,” He said through a grunt of exertion. “Wanna take it from here?”
“Sure.” Chase responded. “So, doing a wrestling move correctly is up to the one taking it as much as the one performing it. If either of you slacks it ends up looking terrible, or with someone injured.”
Chase was helping him out today. The two of them and their pupil had borrowed one of the gymnasium’s rings for a little exhibition. A fresh batch of recruits stood just outside the apron, murmuring amongst themselves and craning their necks to get a better look. Beyond them occupying the rest of the gym/warehouse/office space facilities were their regulars, who were all too engrossed in their own workout routines to pay them any mind, with the exception of Flynn, who openly delighted in seeing the rookies find out how the sausage was made, and always reserved a seat at the chest press machine to watch the carnage unfold while he got his reps in.
“For a scoop slam, you want one arm cradling the back and the other between the legs.” Chase continued. “Just like Syd is doing.”
Sydney nodded. “By the way? As a wrestler you’re gonna have people reaching between your legs all the time, better get used to it now.”
That got a few chuckles from the trainees. Bad sign. The immature ones rarely lasted long. Lil’ Yote’ was doing pretty well all things considered, only trembling slightly.
“Taking the slam is just a regular back bump, all you have to do is tuck your chin so your head doesn’t hit the canvas, and land flat on your back so the impact disperses evenly.” Chase turned to the coyote. “You, uh, got all that?”
The kid produced a noise that Sydney would just have to interpret as affirmative. His shoulder was going numb. He appraised the rookies one more time to make sure they really were paying attention. They ranged from being somewhere around his age to barely out of high school, mostly male with a few girls. Some carried themselves with a cocksure demeanor, others were clearly anxious. The dozen or so of them all seemed interested in what was happening, or at the very least had the sense to fake it. Good enough, for now. The real test was about to start. He patted the coyote’s thigh so that he wasn’t caught completely off guard, and got to work.
“Here goes.”
Sydney’s body sprang into motion, and almost as soon as it did, the coyote began to struggle. Well, fuck. Could have been out of fear just as likely as reflex. That’s usually how it went for first time fliers, and it was a great way to throw your partner’s whole shit off rhythm and get yourself killed. Lucky for him, Sydney was the one steering this ship, and he did not suffer mutineers. His own strength was more than sufficient to dictate the trajectory of the throw, and from there gravity did the rest. He heard a sharp intake of breath and a loud bang. Hardly a second later there was a coyote pancaked on the floor.
The mood changed on a dime. For anyone with experience it was nothing out of the ordinary, just your run of the mill scoop slam, executed sloppily but safely. For the uninitiated, things were a bit different. Watching wrestling on TV or through a computer screen couldn’t prepare you for seeing a body hit the mat for the first time. How the earth trembled, but mostly how loud it was like an explosion going off. A person shouldn’t be able to produce that sound and expect to live. Sydney knew better, obviously, but he still stopped to make sure the kid was ok. He was laid out in a star shape, sucking in breaths like fish on land, definitely knocked the air out of him.
“Not so bad, yeah?” Sydney said as he stepped aside, allowing Chase to kneel next to Icarus. Hardly broke a sweat, not bad for a champion.
His rookies weren’t looking so hot. All that arrogance had evaporated in an instant and what was left was a bunch of kids in way over their heads. A few were looking for the nearest exit, and he prayed that the puddles gathering on the rubber flooring were just nervous sweat.
Great, now what.
“Sydney, a moment?”
Of course. That’s just what he needed, a reaming from Jenna. The woman had the unnatural ability to make her voice be heard perfectly clear over the ruckus of the gym and across the bulding, from that dingy little office she always holed herself in. No mic needed, like she was born to be a manager.
Sydney felt a paw on his shoulder. “Better go see what she wants.”
Chase had known her far longer than him, and so probably had a much easier time interpreting the registers of her voice. Not like it was hard to tell she was pissed, even if she hadn’t called him out in such an over the top manner.
“You sure?” Sydney wasn’t afraid of her, but getting up and leaving after what just happened was kind of awkward, even if this batch was a lost cause. The coyote hadn’t moved from his spot on the mat.
Chase chuckled dismissively. “What, you don’t trust me? I know how to deal with a wounded pride.”
“Well…” Sydney looked around. Jenna stood patiently just beyond the threshold of her office. Did his class shrink while he wasn’t paying attention? “Make sure it’s only his pride.”
Feeling many eyes on him, Sydney rolled out of the ring and allowed the fox to usher him in.
***
He really meant it when he said he wasn’t afraid of her, but these little visits to the director’s office always made him antsy in a way that was hard to pin down. They reminded him of literally being called to the director’s office, for one, in case it wasn’t obvious, and it was hard not to feel dressed down in Jenna’s presence. Again, literally. The contrast between his track pants and t-shirt and her tailored blouse and pencil skirt only accentuated the gulf between them, imaginary or not.
“I see you’ve been trying some new teaching methods.” She said, sitting across from him, separated by a desk and a laptop. She hadn’t offered him a seat, so he didn’t.
No foreplay. Fine. But he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Look, you said you wanted higher retention rates, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Her mouth was pressed into a hard line, weighing his words. Then, she swiveled her head around dramatically, as if looking for the punchline. “Are you of the opinion that making the recruits piss themselves on their first day is going to entice them to return?”
“I’m of the opinion that people flake on us because they don’t know what they’re getting into.” He crossed his arms. “Making a show of force early on means there won’t be any doubts later. I bet you the four or five guys who didn’t quit on the spot are in it for the long run now.”
“Make a show of force? Sydney, this isn’t the army.”
Sydney scoffed. “Says you. We use the chain of command for a reason. I could be hazing them or beating them up or any of the shit I had to go through when I was getting trained, if all these kids have to worry about it are some hurt feelings then that’s a win in my bo—“
Jenna peered at her laptop. “Three, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“That’s how many didn’t quit.” She was fully engrossed in the machine now, clicking and typing while she spoke without missing a beat. “I got their resignations just now.”
“Ah.”
She closed the lid with a soft clack and turned back to him. “Isn’t technology wonderful?”
She still hadn’t offered him a seat, but Sydney dragged a chair closer and planted himself on it. He let his arms hang.
“Fuck. Did you say I sounded like my father just now?”
It was Jenna’s turn to be taken aback. “I… No? I said this wasn’t the army. But that is a fascinating line of thought that I would be thrilled to follow up on.”
“Yeah, yeah, save the pep talk for someone who wants it.” He waved her away. “Just give it to me straight. Am I a cruel despot?”
“Maybe.” She actually had to think about it, the little vixen. “But it’s a cruel business s, and for once we have the luxury to be picky about who we let on board. So long as the lawsuits aren’t pouring in, I don’t see a reason to make you stop.”
“Huh… really?” He straightened up in his seat. “But you called me in here to chew me out.”
“No, that’s a conclusion you came to all on your own.” She sounded like she was talking to a child. “Thanks a lot, by the way. Glad to know you think so highly of me.”
Sydney held his paws up in surrender. “Okay, fair enough. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“But you are pissed about something.”
“Wh-“ Her composure broke for a moment. She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in covertly. “Am I really that easy to read?”
“Maybe.”
“You had to think about it.”
Sydney shrugged.
“God. I don’t know how he puts up with you.”
She was exasperated, but in a good way. A touch of fondness to the annoyance, the type you get when two friends rib at each other. Is that what they were? Sydney didn’t want to jump conclusions, but he supposed they had gone through a lot together this past year, thanks to Chase. One of the many things he’d shaken up.
Jenna could come off as controlling and possessive in a way not all that dissimilar from a certain red wolf, to the point that Sydney sometimes wondered if she resented him for taking him away. For not being good enough. But he had to remember that Jenna had been there for Chase while he was absent. In fact, wasn’t she responsible for his transfer to PWF? Maybe she hadn’t been all that happy about their relationship at first, but hearing her now? She didn’t sound resigned about it at all, she sounded glad that her moronic friend had someone to look after him.
“What can I say.” Sydney smiled. “I’m just that loveable.”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Again, Sydney wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but he wanted to believe there was something behind the smile Jenna flashed back at him, something warmer than mere professional courtesy.
Still. Better put that thought away for now and get to business. “What did you want to talk about, then?”
Jenna breathed deeply. This had gone in a mushier direction than either of them anticipated, and it had disarmed her just a bit. Sydney could see the chinks in that corporate girlboss armor as she stood up and paced around the room.
“People do love you, you know.” It wasn’t a question. “A year ago, if you asked anyone who the ace of this company was, they would have said Leo Alvarez without hesitation. Until you turned that around.
But for what it’s worth, and I’m telling you this merely as a fan, I always knew you were something special. You understood wrestling as both a sport and an artform in a way you seldom see nowadays. People don’t always know how to appreciate talent, but you made them see.”
Sydney tried to change the subject. “Hey, now. It wasn’t all me.” He would be lying if he said he didn’t relish the praise, but he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.
“And he’s humble.” Jenna teased. “Oh, I’m not trying to downplay Chase’s achievements. He worked just as hard as anyone else to get here. That’s not the point.”
“So what is the point? Can you just get to it.”
“Right.“ She gathered herself. “You know better than anyone that no matter how much success we see, we are but one fish in the ocean. We were bound to run into something bigger and hungrier. The higher-ups got a call from a representative for the biggest wrestling promotion in the country, and they were all too happy to throw their weight around. Make a show of force, as you said. And now it falls to me to relay the message.”
“…Unlimited Action Wrestling?” As if there was anyone else she could have possibly meant by biggest wrestling pomotion in the country. “The hell did they want?”
“What else? They wanted to hire you.”