so, here it is. a sequel to 'a beast for two', and this has the dubious distinction of being probably the longest thing I've ever published. not that I'm one hundred percent happy with this one, for a few reasons, but I've been sitting on it for almost two months now, I think, and it's probably not getting any better than this, so yeah. also, while this gets in no way really explicit, I'm still rating it conservatively just in case because story ratings confuse me as a general rule and I'd prefer to play it safe rather than be sorry later.

apologies in advance for any inaccuracies around ice hockey and the NHL (I'm operating mostly from information gleaned from TV Tropes, of all places, because I'm Australian and actually have no idea what I'm talking about whoops), and also if curly hair doesn't typically behave the way I've described it in this story (because my hair is ridiculously straight and I'm just extrapolating from things one of my best friends has said over the years about her own hair). honestly, I'm kind of nervous about that entire scene, but there's content in there I really didn't want to cut, and I couldn't figure anything else to replace the casual hockey and hair talk, so it is what it is. again, please be gentle with me regarding any inaccuracies - I tried to keep it fairly vague, but god only knows I've probably failed horribly at that.

timeline-wise, this one spans the time after ArRIVAL through to Takeover, in a fairly linear fashion for the most part. also, the reason for Sami being so unsettled during that one scene didn't quite make it into the finished product, but it was meant to be an encounter with Renee Young that has him so upset/flustered. so, you know, bear that in mind if you like (there might be a story or something coming up in a while addressing that particular incident, but I'm not making any promises)

It's something like three in the morning, which is a completely ridiculous time to be awake; about five hours earlier than what he would prefer, normally, but Adrian's not about to tell his bladder no when it says it needs emptying. Especially not given that Tyler's in his bed again tonight, and he doesn't think he's ever met such a restless sleeper before in his life (well, that's a lie, but it's a convenient excuse for the moment).

Although Tyler's probably not actually that bad – he just seems to like to cling, and Adrian hasn't had to share his bed with anyone for, well, quite some time now. It's taking a little while to adjust, even if Tyler isn't exactly a consistent bed partner. Because they're still trying to figure out the boundaries of this thing between them, and while it's mostly coming along a whole lot more smoothly than maybe either of them expected, it's still not perfect. Tyler is still Tyler, which means that at least half the time he's kicking up too much of a fuss about anything and everything for them even to get to this point. More often than not, it just ends up in hurried, frustrated exchanges in the men's toilets or somebody's locker room at whatever arena they're working that particular night, and nobody walks away particularly happy or satisfied.

And that's only if they even manage to get that far, because sometimes Tyler's being such a bloody fusspot that Adrian just gives up completely and leaves him to his own devices. It's not like he's a stranger to alone time, and now he doesn't even have to rely on scungy free porn on the internet, because he can just think of all the things he'd like to do to shut Tyler up for once and he's usually good for the rest of the night.

It's strange, he thinks as he washes his hands, because an attraction to Tyler Breeze is really not something he saw coming in the slightest. It's not like he has a history with a 'type' or anything; at least not one that Tyler fits, anyway – Adrian usually prefers his partners to be much lower maintenance (but who wouldn't, really, given it's Tyler Breeze), and he's never really had a physical type beyond 'not so ridiculously tall that he feels insecure'. But Tyler is a selfish, vain, narcissistic, self-absorbed twat of a man, and ordinarily there is nothing in that description that Adrian would ever consider going for. And yet, here he is, rolling back into bed beside this pretty, ridiculous male model and biting back on a laugh, the other man instantly shifting towards him as soon as Adrian manages to settle himself comfortably once more.

"It was cold without you," Tyler says, without even bothering to crack an eyelid, and Adrian does chuckle quietly at that. "Ugh, and now your hands are cold. Don't touch me until you've warmed up again."

"I'd warm up quicker if I was touching you," Adrian points out, and Tyler only digs a knee more sharply into the meat of his thigh. He makes a point of shifting his weight atop Adrian as obnoxiously as possible, until Adrian skims his hands along the lean line of Tyler's sides and flanks, and the other man flinches away reflexively. "Now stop being such an unrepentant dick, or you can sleep on the bloody floor."

"Rude," Tyler murmurs sleepily, but he obligingly shifts most of his weight, curling lazily into Adrian's side instead. It's nice like this, actually, because Tyler's just the right height in comparison to make this surprisingly comfortable, especially when Adrian rolls over so that Tyler can curl around his back and spoon properly. "Mm, better."

"Just go to sleep," Adrian suggests in a mumble, and Tyler hums in affirmation against his back – it's when he's at his most agreeable, actually; halfway asleep or more and only barely holding onto coherency. It's rather endearing, though Adrian refuses to ever admit something that stupidly sappy aloud. He might be kind of in a semi-functional almost-relationship with an overly dramatic narcissist, but that doesn't mean that he wants to do anything as unrepentantly sappy as have regular discussions about their feelings or anything like that.

Tyler sighs gently behind him, his breathing already evening out into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep, and Adrian rolls a little more onto his stomach and pushes his hair away from both his neck and Tyler's face because he's considerate like that. The clock on the bedside table now reads three-nineteen, and that's the last thing Adrian sees as he closes his eyes and follows his not-partner into slumber once more.

In all honesty, Brodus Clay is really just more of a distraction than he is a real problem. It seems a little trite to say it like that, but honestly, it's true. The man is big, no doubt about it – he's nearly twice Adrian's size in the very literal sense, and that's certainly nothing to be sneezed at. But he's also slow and awkward and unwieldy; not very agile or innovative or explosive, and really, apart from the massive size advantage, there's absolutely nothing about him that really sticks out as worth worrying about.

Adrian's still not worried after the backstage assault, but he is mad. He'd already lost those teeth in Japan years ago, so it's not even that so much as it is just the gall and the sheer poor sportsmanship of the man to attack him after losing a match – and backstage, too, in a blind-sided ambush. Not that it would have been any less of an ambush at ringside, but it probably would have been a little less pre-mediated. And Adrian's also exceptionally irritated that assaulting him like that somehow nets the man another title match, like it's a kind of reward for being such an overgrown arsehole and attacking the champion outside the bounds of a sanctioned match.

And yes, he's very aware that the championship may as well be a massive target drawn onto his back, but that's still no call to go attacking people backstage, really. It's certainly no call for JBL to be rewarding people with title matches for such behaviour, and Adrian's only slightly mollified by the fact that he's able to get their esteemed general manager to agree to make the match no disqualification. It's not much, but fuck it – if he's got to wrestle that overgrown fossil again, then he's going to do it on his terms, not his challenger's.

He's the bloody champion for a reason, and if he can't use it to his advantage as much as possible in a situation like this then Adrian really doesn't know when he's supposed to use it at all.

It's also rather gratifying to find that Tyler agrees with him – Adrian was pleasantly surprised by how concerned he'd been after Brodus's assault, fussing incessantly after his own unique fashion, and apparently not at all bothered by the presence of people such as Sami or Xavier or Paige. He'd had to field a few awkward questions after that one, but it had been more than worth it, if just to hear Tyler make increasingly ridiculous threats against Brodus's choice in attire, personal grooming and more besides.

Surprisingly serious threats, too, when taking into consideration what he did to CJ Parker after the other man stole his phone. Adrian's never had a problem with Parker, if just because he hasn't really interacted with him too much for any problems to ever arise, but he always did find it amusing how the issues between Parker and Tyler apparently snowballed from one small instance of photo-bombing.

But hey, if Tyler really wants to cut off Brodus's hair, then all power to him.

Because in the end, Adrian gets the victory over Brodus as expected. It's not pretty or even particularly exciting, really, but it is effective, and decisive enough that Adrian doubts the other man will be sniffing title contention for several months yet as a result. And coming hard on the heels of the announcement about the newest upcoming live special event in Takeover, he's more than ready just to move on to whoever his next opponent ends up being.

Of course, that's where things get complicated.

"A twenty-man battle royal?" Adrian asks, raising a brow enquiringly. "I suppose there's going to be a few fly-ins from the main roster to bring the numbers up, then."

"I'd imagine so," Sami says, tapping his foot restlessly against the leg of his chair. Tyler looks up from where he's sitting, absorbed in his phone as per usual, to shoot his fellow Canadian a mildly irritated scowl, before going right back to whatever he was doing before. Checking Twitter, if Adrian had to hazard a guess, but it's not like it really matters. "I hear Tyson Kidd has thrown his hat into the ring."

"Good for him," Adrian says neutrally, intercepting Sami's sideways glance with a frown. "What about you, though?"

"Yeah, I'll be in there. Can't miss a chance to win an opportunity to put you in your place inside that ring. Tyler seems to feel the same way, too, don't you Breeze?"

His voice rises on the last three words, and Tyler looks up irritably as Sami fixes him with an extremely odd sort of stare. Actually, come to think of it, Sami's been acting rather strangely ever since the Brodus-ambush incident, when Adrian had to try and cover up Tyler's uncharacteristic but still completely Tyler-like worry. He'd told his friends that he and Tyler had just come to a private understanding, and it's certainly not a lie, but he thinks Sami might suspect rather more about the true nature of such an understanding than most.

Adrian's really not sure how to feel about Sami potentially finding out, either. On the one hand, he's pretty comfortable with this fledgling relationship of theirs, and he probably wouldn't be too worried if people knew they had a thing going on. But Tyler's much more concerned about his reputation than Adrian will ever manage to be, and he probably doesn't want it put about that he's doing the dirty with somebody as apparently unattractive as Adrian himself.

Ah, well. It's not like he can really do anything unless Sami comes to him with his suspicions, if suspicious he is indeed, so Adrian sets those thoughts aside and forces his attention back to the matter of the battle royal.

"Naturally," Tyler says airily, raising an eyebrow in that condescending manner that he seems to have mastered. "You know as well as I do that this company deserves a champion as gorgeous as, well, me. Offence completely intended, by the way, Neville."

"Offence not taken," Adrian says mildly, just to watch the way Tyler pouts momentarily at being temporarily thwarted in trying to get a rise from him. "That's the funny thing about championships, y' see. There isn't actually any sort of minimum subjective attractiveness qualification required to hold them. Funny that, isn't it?"

"Of course, we're only two out of twenty – three, if you count Kidd," Sami says hastily, perhaps fearing an argument. Adrian would tell him not to worry, but it's honestly somewhat amusing watching him attempt to politely steer them away from open conflict, so he just hides a smile and lets Sami do as he will. "That's still a whole lot of unknowns, Adrian."

"Ah, well. It's not like I can do anything about it other than sit back and let what will happen, happen."

"You could always be ringside to watch the match," Tyler suggests slyly, and Adrian knows that's more about wanting to be the centre of everyone's attention at all times than it is about really helping Adrian out as the champion, but it's probably also not completely the former and just a bit of the latter, which is honestly positively gushing for Tyler. "You and Regal could sit on commentary and gabble at each other in your incomprehensible accents – and you'd still be better than the Raw commentary team, somehow."

"Why are you even here?" Sami asks in exasperation, and Tyler just lifts a brow and grins smugly. "Seriously, Adrian – why is he here? It's your locker room, man – you can kick him out any time you like."

"Eh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Adrian murmurs, catching Tyler's eye across the room, and Tyler's grin takes a turn for the amused instead, though it probably doesn't seem any different to poor, confused Sami. "You gonna get out of here any time soon, Breezey?" he asks, somewhat more loudly.

"I don't believe so, no," Tyler replies, waving one hand dismissively as he reclines on the bench he's currently seated on, crossing his legs at the ankle and generally sprawling as flamboyantly as he can possibly manage in the limited space. "I'm almost comfortable now, and rather amused besides. Please, do carry on."

"I dislike you," Sami informs Tyler solemnly before turning back to face Adrian once more. "Well, look, it's your championship. I can't make you worry about it if you don't want to. I'd just suggest you be a little wary from here on out. You never know who might decide to try and take advantage or get a one-up in the hunt for title contention by taking you out like Brodus did."

"I appreciate the concern, Sami; honestly, I do."

"Yeah, but appreciating advice and actually acting on it are two completely different things." Sami shrugs and sighs deeply, before stretching his legs out, pointing his toes and avoiding looking at Adrian for a moment or two. "Oh well. Since I'm going to be the man to win the battle royal, it's pretty much all a moot point anyway."

"I beg to differ," Tyler says sharply, looking up to fix Sami with a surprisingly intent stare. "I already told you – I'm winning that title, Zayn. You keep your ugly little ginger mitts away from it. Bad enough that Neville is lowering its prestige with every minute that ticks by; I don't need to try and counteract any damage you might do by association as well."

"Well, you see, there's one main problem with that, Tyler – you've got to actually get past me, first. And to be honest, I don't quite think you've got what it takes to beat me in the ring."

"If you're gonna do this, can you take it outside, please?"

Adrian narrows his eyes when both men turn to stare at him indignantly, and he doesn't look away when Sami begins to frown suspiciously again, nor when Tyler puts on his best pouty 'who, me?' face. He doesn't look away even when both other men do, and he keeps staring them down when they both dare to look up again – Sami looking contrite this time around, and Tyler only vaguely like maybe, perhaps a dog belonging to somebody sitting beside him was just chastised by its owner (but that really is as close as he comes to apologetic for the most part, so Adrian lets it slide for now).

"Thank you," he says, rolling his shoulders until he can feel something crack, and some of the tension starts to fade away. "Seriously, though, I don't know why you're bothering me about it. I don't have to worry until after the match. You two both have to compete in it."

"Fine, I can take a hint," Sami says, smiling just enough that Adrian knows it's meant to be light-hearted, even if that's not quite how it sounds. He bounces to his feet with ease, waving goodbye to Adrian and giving Tyler one last lingering, considering stare on the way out. Tyler waits until Sami's out of sight to roll his eyes and sigh dramatically, and Adrian doesn't bother hiding his grin.

"Oh, shush, you," Tyler says as Adrian makes his way over to sit down by where he has his head tilted back. Tyler gives him a moment to settle comfortably before scooting back to lean against him, and it's nice to sit and just enjoy the contact for a moment or two. "Seriously, though, I'm going to win this. I hope you're ready to wrestle me for that title at Takeover."

"We'll see," Adrian says, smoothing the back of his hand across Tyler's cheek and smiling at the flash of surprise that overtakes his eyes before he settles into the caress. "You, Sami, Kidd, whoever else there might be in that match. I'm looking forward to watching it."

"No, you're supposed to say you're looking forward to me winning."

"Shh," Adrian says, leaning down for a kiss that Tyler initially grumbles through, but acquiesces to soon enough. He moves to pull away after a moment, because it's really an absolutely ridiculous angle, but Tyler clamps a hand to the back of his neck, pulling just barely apart enough that their lips are no longer touching before coming back for another, deeper kiss. Adrian lets him, too, because Tyler is a fucking amazing kisser when he tries, and right now he's definitely trying, the prick.

"I'm going to win," Tyler insists, and Adrian just nods kind of helplessly, because what else is he supposed to do after that, really? Tyler grins smugly, twisting around so that he can sit up and lean in to kiss Adrian yet again. "Good, Neville; you're learning."

It's probably one of the more controversial finishes to a match Adrian has ever seen, and it's certainly one of the most controversial in the history of NXT. If he absolutely had to call it, he'd probably say that Tyler touched the floor a split-second later than Sami and Tyson Kidd did, but it's not up to him. It's up to the referee, and when he apparently can't reach a conclusion even with the aid of several other officials, suddenly it's up to Triple H instead.

Which, he supposes, is fair enough, because no matter what's happening on the main roster at any given time, Authority-related or otherwise, the man has never been anything but fair and reasonable whenever he's shown up at Full Sail for whatever purpose. Announcing Arrival and Takeover, talking NXT up whenever he has the chance either down here or on the main shows, appointing JBL to the position of General Manager (well, maybe not so much that last one); still, the Game's track record speaks for itself when it comes to WWE's developmental brand, and Adrian's really not surprised at all when he declares a triple threat match for next week to decide the matter.

The crowd certainly seems to agree that it's the most logical option, and for his part, Adrian's only very mildly annoyed that he has to wait another week to discover who he will be facing come Takeover. Really, in terms of preparation for the match, it's not even that much of a setback – he knows Sami inside and out in terms of wrestling; he has for years, and there's always just enough to it that they can still surprise each other. If he ends up facing Sami, it's going to be an amazing match and, he thinks, perhaps even as talked-about as the series with Cesaro has been.

Tyler he doesn't know quite as well in the ring, but Adrian is fairly certain he's got a bead now on the way the man thinks; self-centred always, but surprisingly forward-looking and strategically minded when it comes to his wrestling, if he can forget about protecting his precious face for long enough to get to that point. Which, actually, he has been over the past several weeks; ever more aggressive in the ring, and especially now if the face or hair is invoked in any way. It would be funny if the Beauty Shot wasn't such a nasty move – not that Adrian has ever had the misfortune to be hit by it, in the scarce few matches he's actually had against Breeze, but nor does he actually need to be burnt to know how much that hurts, either. No, he and Tyler could likely put on a fantastic match too, and especially with the title on the line.

In a strange way, Kidd is somehow both more and less of a mystery than either Sami or Tyler ever will be, because for some reason, Adrian has never actually wrestled against the guy. Between his knee injury and his time on Total Divas, Kidd has only been a rather infrequent fly-in visitor to NXT for most of the time Adrian has been with the company.

It's odd, too, because they both wrestle fairly similar styles – Adrian likes to think he's got the edge; younger, faster, hungrier and just all-round better, but it's nothing he's going to actually say aloud, because that's just not the type of person he is (he can think it to himself, though). Why haven't they even tagged together once or twice? But they haven't, so he's only got what he's seen of Kidd over the last year and a bit to go off. Would they put on a good match? Adrian thinks so, but he also thinks him against Sami or he and Tyler would be better, and it even almost has nothing to do with his personal regard for the two men in question.

Still, it's not up to him. It's up to the three men who will wrestle next week in a triple threat, and all he can do is wait for the fallout.

…not that it takes very long to find him, in the form of a fuming, frustrated Tyler. Adrian really isn't surprised at all that the man comes straight to him, because really, why would Tyler rail to himself when he could have a captive audience instead?

"I was the last one out!" Tyler insists almost before the door to Adrian's locker room slams closed behind him. "It was obvious on the replays! I should be facing you at Takeover, not having to jump through hoops like this! I already beat them!"

Adrian spares a moment to marvel at the fact that Tyler apparently somehow magically possesses the ability to talk in italics, because it's so, so strange that Adrian can practically hear the words being italicised for emphasis; that's such an odd thing to notice, too, but there it is. He pays too much attention to Tyler Breeze and always has; it's probably not stopping any time soon, and it's not even half as irritating as he sometimes still wishes it was.

"Not according to the referees or Triple H," Adrian says, raising an eyebrow as Tyler's nostrils flare angrily and his eyes flash in more of the same. "Oh, come off it, Breezey. What's done is done, and bitching about it isn't going to change anything. I'll pretend to listen while you rant, if it makes you feel better, but at the end of your little temper tantrum you'll still have to face Sami and Kidd next week anyway."

"You are the absolute worst," Tyler hisses. It's not an 'I hate you', though; nor has it been since they started this thing, actually, and somewhere deep down Adrian actually really appreciates that, even if he'll never, ever admit it.

"You're really very pretty when you're angry," Adrian teases, and oh, that must be how to do it; he'll have to remember for future reference. Because Tyler's eyes flash again, but it certainly isn't anger this time, or at least not quite to the same degree, and Adrian tilts his head curiously as Tyler simply stalks over in order to drop down and straddle his lap, arms draped loosely across his shoulders and an odd look on his face. "Yes?"

"Say that again, Adrian," Tyler says intently, voice low and eyes hooded as he stares at Adrian. "Again."

"You are a very attractive man," he says obediently, grinning as Tyler winds one hand into his hair down near the nape of his neck while the other traces a lazy, gently tickling path down his side. "Almost even more so when you're angry, which accounts for a lot, really, when you think about it. D' you want me to kiss you now, pretty boy?"

"Yes," Tyler breathes, and Adrian obliges happily; tilts his head up just slightly, grinning into the kiss as they bump noses and teeth and Tyler makes a little, irritated noise into his mouth before pulling back with a determined expression on his face.

He laughs when the other man shifts forward slightly, hair falling across his face as he leans down for another kiss, and this time Adrian tilts his head a little and it's much better – Tyler's a really, really good kisser, and Adrian is trying to learn, but it's hard to remember anything when Tyler's sort-of nipping like he is, catching Adrian's lip between his teeth and pulling. Sometimes it's gentle, sometimes rougher, and Adrian gasps into it, which seems to be what Tyler wants, because he makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and sets to work again, but this time with his tongue.

Not that this is anything new, really, but it feels like it is every time, maybe because Adrian still can't wrap his head around the fact that Tyler Breeze is actually letting him kiss him; actually wants to do this, any of it, as much as he quite clearly does. He slides his hands along Tyler's thighs until he can grasp his hips and squeeze, and Tyler obligingly rocks forward, which okay, yeah, good. Then he does it again, and Adrian pulls him up this time, one hand on the small of his back and the other gripping the back of a thigh, high up near where leg becomes rear. It puts Tyler almost too far above him for comfort, but then Tyler drops down suddenly, biting at his neck and grinding down, and Adrian throws his head back and groans loudly.

"You're going to have a hickey," Tyler says smugly, nuzzling at the mark he's bitten and sucked into skin. "…you'll have to wear one of those ugly collared polos of yours tomorrow, I suppose."

"Or not," Adrian murmurs, a little breathless as Tyler tugs sharply at his hair, carefully nipping his way along a collarbone. "I, ah, don't actually care if people see. None o' their business anyway."

"It's really not," Tyler agrees, pressing their foreheads together for a brief moment before Adrian kisses him again. Tyler smiles against his mouth, and so Adrian soothes the kiss and pulls back gently, just stroking a hand lightly across Tyler's thigh and watching him fondly.

"Would you care if I told them?" he asks, because fuck it, he wants (needs) to know. He really shouldn't ask; it's only been what, a month or two of this ill-defined thing of theirs? It shouldn't matter; it's Tyler Breeze, of all people – ridiculous, arrogant, egotistical Tyler, with his compulsive need to take photos of himself and his often-violent dislike of those he considers less attractive (which is, well, everyone). Even if the sex is great and he's been pleasantly surprised by the amount of what could almost be called affection between the two of them, it's really no call to go asking something like this when he can't even admit that they're in a relationship of some kind.

He's gone ahead and asked the question anyway, though, and now there's no taking it back, so Adrian can only clench his jaw and wait for Tyler to brush it off, or ignore him completely, or maybe just run for the hills like he probably should have the first time Adrian kissed him.

Tyler doesn't do any of that, though. Instead, he blinks, narrows his eyes for a moment, and then sighs heavily. His frown is thoughtful for once, instead of distasteful or condescending or irritated, and he still hasn't moved from Adrian's lap.

"I suppose not," he says eventually, so quiet that Adrian barely even hears him, and Tyler is literally sitting on top of him as it is. "You're still an uggo," he continues more loudly, "but you're not the most insufferable person in this place, I guess."

"You're too kind, princess," Adrian murmurs, but he's smiling as he does so, even if he probably shouldn't be. Tyler just rolls his eyes, mutters 'uggo' again under his breath and leans down for a slow, lazy kiss that quickly turns heated once more. "Ah, maybe we should take this make to mine?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Adrian still doesn't know why Tyler insists on trying to tame his hair. More to the point, he's not sure why he lets him, even after two months of painful tugging and muttered curses and a couple of broken combs. At least Tyler's given up on the latter, settling for just brushing it now, and that's much less painful than feeling every little snarl and tangle like he had been with the comb. It's still not much fun, though, and Adrian only suffers through it because for some strange reason, Tyler seems to really enjoy it, even if he rarely succeeds in anything that he actually attempts to do.

He insists that Tyler only brushes it while it's wet, though. It's not worth the agony of trying to do anything with when his hair is dry, and he's actually had to literally wrestle Tyler into submission once before to get that agreement, too.

Strange, though; Tyler really should at least understand in theory why curly hair does not need regular maintenance like straight or wavy hair does, since he's a model and everything, but Adrian never actually mentions it to the other man. It's not really worth it, and he's learning to appreciate this kind of quiet time together, after they've messed around together and then showered, and Tyler's decided to stay the night after (he always threatens to head home, acts like he's thinking about it, but Adrian has never once even seen him come close to following through).

He's only been to Tyler's place a handful of times, but that's more because Tyler's apartment complex is halfway across the city, while Adrian's is much closer to Full Sail and therefore much more convenient for nights like these, rather than out of any sort of shame on Tyler's part. Or, well, he's pretty sure, anyway – Tyler really doesn't strike him as the type to be embarrassed by something once he's decided on it, especially not something private and exclusive like this arrangement of theirs, with nobody else ever really around to judge either of them.

"You know, I think I almost like this better anyway."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes," Tyler says primly, doing, um, something with a hairband, and Adrian waits for elaboration, wincing when the band snags roughly. "Ugh, why is your hair so stupid? No, this way's better, I've decided. Because I can kick Sami's face off, you can out-perform Kidd in every way that matters and many more that don't, and then I still get the satisfaction of taking the title away from you somewhere down the track."

"That's big of you," Adrian says mildly, before adding, "Are you braiding my hair, Tyler? Really?"

"Plaiting," Tyler corrects, expertly twisting strands one over the other in the correct pattern. It's kind of nice, actually; now he's brushed the worst of the knots out, and Adrian's hair is still damp enough that it's not catching and tangling all over again, so it's just this oddly pleasant sense of pressure interspersed with the occasional gentle tug. "Turn around and look at me."

Adrian raises an eyebrow, and Tyler cocks his head in consideration before frowning. "Nah?" he asks with a wry smile.

"No," Tyler agrees, sighing in resignation. "I don't even – what do you actually do with your hair, Adrian? Don't tell me you just put it in that stupid low ponytail all the time."

"When I've gotta dress up, yeah, or if I'm planning on working out. Otherwise I just leave it, mostly. Not a whole lot else I can do, really."

"If you'd just let me straighten it one time-"

"No." Adrian twists around to scowl fiercely at Tyler, who pouts back, but he's not going to be swayed on this, dammit. "Not in a thousand years. Not that I don't trust you, but I really, really don't like the idea of hot plates near my head like that, alright? Like, I wouldn't even care if it was bloody Jesus himself offering to do the deed, honestly. Just, no."

"I wouldn't trust Jesus to use a straightener either," Tyler murmurs, almost soothingly. He runs his fingers through Adrian's hair in a slow, pleasant motion and generally just sounds far less offended than expected, which has Adrian eyeing him suspiciously for a moment. "The guy supposedly lived two thousand years ago; like he even knows what electricity is. He'd probably burn himself before he burnt you, actually."

"Ah, thanks, I guess? Were you trying to be reassuring, or…?"

"Not really? Do you need reassuring?"

"Not really," Adrian says with an easy grin, and Tyler swats him irritably on the shoulder. The other hand is still stroking through his hair, though, so Adrian thinks he can claim to have won this round, as such.

He's expecting the heavy sigh from the man behind him, but the sound of the doorbell a moment later is a surprise. Especially at nine on a quiet Monday night, and it takes Tyler nudging him insistently before Adrian collects himself enough to think about answering.

"Were you expecting somebody?"

"Uh, no? I dunno, I left my phone in the bedroom, so I guess somebody could have tried to contact me. But nine at night's still a bit weird," Adrian replies, shrugging as he pushes off the lounge. "Um, I'll be back."

"I'll be here," Tyler says airily, rearranging himself until he's more fully ensconced among the mismatched cushions Adrian has scattered over the lounge, to disguise the fact that it's old and actually ridiculously uncomfortable without them. He waves a hand dismissively, and Adrian has to laugh at that; the idea of anybody actually dismissing him in his own home is pretty ridiculous, but of course Tyler would be that arrogant.

He's less amused with finding Sami on the other side of the door, but that's more down to how subdued and forlorn his friend looks than it is any sort of real irritation at being interrupted without warning. Really, the only thing less happening than Adrian's social life is Gretchen Wiener's attempts to make 'fetch' a thing, so he's usually not at all adverse to the few friends he does have dropping around any time they please, even if he does prefer a little advance warning. Then again, his phone is still in the bedroom, so who knows – Sami could well have tried to contact him before now and he could have just missed it as a result.

"Can I come in?" Sami asks quietly, head bowed and eyes averted as he scuffs idly at the doormat. "I'm not interrupting anything, right?"

"Of course," Adrian replies, moving aside so Sami can cautiously shuffle his way inside. "And, nah, not really. I dunno if you sent me any warning; I left my phone in my room, so I'm sorry if you did and I didn't reply-"

"No, it was pretty spur of the moment."

Adrian hums under his breath at that, because really, that's not at all like Sami; not polite, considerate Sami Zayn, who always informs people if he intends on seeing them and it hasn't been previously planned. Adrian's a decent guy, sure, but he still has his (fairly infrequent) moments when his temper gets the better of him. Like the time he slapped Tyler during the lumberjack match for what essentially amounted to doing his job, upon reflection, or the time he slapped Bo Dallas during an interview segment for being a condescending little shit (though he doesn't really feel so bad about that one). But Sami's an even better guy, always – in all honesty, he's probably the nicest person on the roster bar perhaps Bayley, and considering Bayley is the living, breathing embodiment of goodwill and happiness, that's fair enough.

"Ah, well, um. Can I help?"

"I'm sorry, Adrian, really, I am – but I just need to, like, get away from things for a bit, and somehow I ended up over this way, and well, you were closest. It's not – like, I don't need to talk about it if you're not cool with that, but I just need company or something, I don't know. Everything's kind of all over the place right now, and it's really dumb, but I just need to not be alone. Is that okay?"

"Nah, Sami, it's fine, really." Well, maybe not quite, but Adrian certainly isn't going to say that, god. He's not that much of an insensitive prick, even if this is kind of ridiculously awkward and he doesn't really know whether to lead Sami to the kitchen and dining room, or just dive off the edge headfirst and take him to the living room, where Tyler is still presumably ensconced.

That isn't really a conversation he wants to have right now (or ever, actually), but who knows? Maybe it'll distract Sami from whatever is bothering him and they can avoid that conversation. Because Adrian can probably manage one serious conversation about life and emotions and meaningful life stuff, but two in one evening is definitely pushing the limits of what he is comfortable with and can tolerate, for sure.

"I, uh; there's a hockey game on right now. We could just watch that?" Sami suggests, scrubbing a hand nervously through his beard, and Adrian shrugs, sighs and nods his agreement. Sami has just time enough to begin frowning before Adrian leads him into the main living space, where Tyler is indeed still comfortably sprawled across the lounge, with the aforementioned hockey game playing on-screen, even if he isn't half as entranced by it as he would be if his own team were playing.

Adrian doesn't know very much about the NHL yet, but he is familiar with most of the Canadian teams, if just because of Sami, Renee and Tyler. If he had to pick, he'd say he has a mild bias towards the Habs, if just because Sami and a few of his other friends are fans, and it's easier to agree with them than to ignore them, but beyond that – well, Adrian really just watches for the enjoyment of the game. It's certainly not like the Premier League, which is a much more serious matter.

"Oh, it's you." Tyler flicks a glance their way, raising one immaculately shaped eyebrow when he catches sight of Sami, and frowns in mild distaste. "You're one of those filthy Habs supporters, aren't you, Zayn? Well, I suppose at least somebody will be happy with how this match is going then."

"I – wait, we're winning?" And as easily as that, Sami's completely distracted from asking any one of the numerous questions that he must have, moving forward to lean over the back of the lounge and peer intently at the play unfolding on the television. It won't last, of course, because Sami's a good friend who won't leave something like this alone until he understands and is convinced that this isn't all going to end in disaster – so, not for quite some time, then, because Adrian's still not convinced of that himself most days, and he's the one who is actually involved with Tyler, as it were.

"Unfortunately," Tyler says, pretending to check over his nails as Sami shakes his head in mild disappointment. "Still, I suppose it's better than the Blackhawks winning, which is the only reason I'm tolerating it."

"Oh, right. You're a Canucks supporter, aren't you?"

"I am from Vancouver, yes," Tyler says shortly, and Adrian rolls his eyes before shoving Tyler's feet aside so that he can resume his seat at the far end of the lounge. He's not surprised in the slightest when Tyler immediately swings his feet back up into his lap, so Adrian just rests an arm across his legs and settles in to trying to keep track of the game. "Still nowhere near as bad as hailing from Montreal, by the way."

"Speaking of – what in the ever-loving hell, Adrian? Why on earth is Breeze even here? I don't even – what? I just, what? The? Hell?"

Well, that took even less time than expected. Sami lifts his head to stare piercingly at Adrian for a long, intent moment, before sweeping his gaze down to a vaguely irritated Tyler, who only scowls back up at him challengingly.

"We gonna do this now, really?" Adrian asks tiredly, and Sami only gives him a look. "Yeah, okay, so we're doing this now. I don't know, man – what do you think he's doing here? Apart from sponging off my cable subscription to watch the hockey, obviously."

"I have cable at home," Tyler protests, missing the point completely as per usual, but Adrian's currently way too tense and nervous over Sami's response to smile with the sort of wry amusement Tyler's self-absorption normally elicits.

"Please tell me you are not that stupid," Sami says, almost despairingly, and both Adrian and Tyler level him with flat, unimpressed glares – strange, because Adrian hadn't really thought Tyler cared at all what Sami thinks of him, but apparently he does. Or he knows that Adrian cares what Sami thinks, and this is on his behalf, which is simultaneously both more and less believable at once. And oddly comforting, too, but he's decidedly not thinking about that right now. "…god, you are. You actually are. How long, then?"

"Ah, from Arrival? I guess?" Adrian looks across at Tyler, who shrugs non-committedly. "I mean, you kissed me before that, but then we had that week or two of run-around before we actually somewhat sorted anything out. So, yeah, from Arrival. Two months, roughly, maybe. Not that it's actually any of your business, but, hey, I guess I'm just in a giving, sharing kind of mood."

"You don't have to be such a smartarse about it," Sami mutters under his breath. "I'm only trying to look out for you, considering this is the guy who cost you a title match and is going to do his very best to stop me from getting a shot of my own."

"A shot at my title," Adrian points out quietly, and Sami's scowl deepens. "Look, I appreciate the thought, Sami. Really, I do. But apparently I've been old enough for the last nearly ten years to make my own decisions, since I'm supposedly a grown-up I ask you for help, please just leave the worrying about my personal life to me."

"God, it's not like I'm going to eat him or anything," Tyler says offhandedly, pulling his legs down so that he can sit up and turn around to face Sami properly. "Or, well, not in the literal sense, anyway. You don't have to like me, Zayn – actually, I'd prefer it if you didn't, so then I don't have to deal with you any more than necessary. Just be glad it's me and not, say, the living grease-pit himself."

"I would never," Adrian says firmly, shooting Tyler a pointed glare that only earns a faintly amused smirk by way of reply. "No, come on, Breezey – say what you will about my taste, but I love myself enough to never, ever go there."

"You were tag team champions together, though," Tyler points out smugly, and Adrian just rolls his eyes. "And you teamed with Dallas that one time, too. You have terrible taste in partners, Adrian."

"The only actual choice was Oliver, alright? Bo was simply the only one who wanted to get in the ring against the Wyatt Family, and I was actually the replacement for Kassius for the thing with Corey – and that was, again, regarding the Wyatts. It's not like I picked either of them over anyone else. I'd sooner have teamed with you, and my first pick would definitely have been Sami, if I had any say in the matter at all."

"Sooner have teamed with me?"

"Please, Tyler; like you wanted anything to do with me back then beyond kicking my face in and avoiding having to look at me."

"I still want to kick your face in and avoid looking at you," Tyler retorts childishly, but there's no heat to it whatsoever – even Sami can tell, judging by the slight double-take when Tyler just pouts and swings his feet into Adrian's lap yet again. "Sometimes. When you're being particularly annoying or completely blind to fashion sense and colour coordination."

"Which is most of the time, but I do know how to use my mouth convincingly so you'll forgive me for it," Adrian recites, because it's a favourite spiel of Tyler's and he's had it committed to memory since the second week of this relationship of theirs. It's amusing, too, to watch Sami blanch as the innuendo registers, and Adrian can't hold back his laughter when Sami shoots him an appropriately disgusted look. "What?"

"You know what? I take it all back – clearly, you both deserve one another completely," Sami says, shooting them both dirty glares, though Adrian knows him well enough to see the faint edge of amusement underneath. "I'm leaving before you start making out on the lounge or something."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Tyler calls, and Adrian swats him chidingly, shoving him aside to follow Sami back up the hallway to the front door. "Oh, fine, leave me again. I'll have you know the Habs are losing now!"

"You're dating a five year old," Sami says.

"It's, ah, not quite dating, I don't think."

"No? Because he's at your house, lounging all over you and your furniture, insulting me like he belongs here or something, man. If that's not what actual couples do, then, well. Consider me schooled. Have you ever taken him out for a meal? Gone shopping with him, even if it is just for groceries? Spent an hour or more in front of the television, just snuggling and making fun of each other? Because I don't know what definition you're working from, but from any other point of view, if you answered yes to any of those then yeah, Adrian, you're dating."

"Dating is such a juvenile term," Adrian grumbles, as Sami cocks his head with a mildly amused smile. "Yeah, okay, you're right. Happy now?"

"Much more than I was when I arrived. And certainly far more than I ever thought I would be to discover you'd hooked up with Prince Pretty himself. Which is, you know, still a shocker, and I reserve the right to make fun of you until forever for this, but, um, good for you? I suppose Tyler was right about one thing – he's definitely an improvement over Graves."

"Get stuffed," Adrian says helplessly, as Sami chuckles to himself. "I never even so much as looked at Graves that way, alright? Seriously, I let you into my home out of the goodness of my heart, and this is what I get in return? Shove off and leave me in peace already, you prick."

"Well, if you want to be like that." Sami grins broadly, and he definitely seems to have lifted now out of whatever odd funk was gripping him when he first arrived, for which Adrian is extremely grateful. It's not exactly how he planned to reveal his relationship with Tyler to his best friend (actually, he never really planned anything at all), but all things considered, it's definitely not the worst way to have been outed, as it were.

"Yeah, yeah. You okay, man?"

"Hey? Oh, no, seriously, I'm fine. It was just – honestly, it was just some bullshit, Adrian. And even with Breeze involved and that whole shock to the system, I'm feeling much better than I was. So, you know, thanks for that."

"Ah, yeah, any time? Although maybe some advance warning next time, if just so I can make sure you don't walk in on anything too scarring, y'know?"

"Yeah, definitely," Sami agrees emphatically, shivering slightly as the breeze stirs a little in the crisp evening air. Adrian watches his progress from the porch and down the steps, out onto the brief stretch of bright, expertly manicured lawn (not a result of any of Adrian's efforts, sadly) before the harsh concrete of the carport area. "I'll, uh, see you around."

"You know where to find me," Adrian says mildly, and he remains to watch until Sami disappears around the corner, behind the fence and out onto the street once more.

Tyler isn't even pretending to watch the hockey when he makes it back to the living room, looking up with what Adrian is learning to recognise as his 'nefarious intent' expression when he moves to resume his seat on the lounge.

"Um, no," Tyler says firmly, and Adrian pauses beside him to raise an eyebrow enquiringly. "I'm ready for bed, and you had better be joining me."

Laughing, Adrian offers him a hand up, which Tyler accepts almost delicately. "Well, if you insist."

In the end, Tyler and Sami get the third match on the card, and the first of the 'big three', as it were. It's the make-or-break spot, really, and everyone knows it. Rose is always fun and the guy certainly knows how to get a crowd going, but it's nothing that doesn't appear on each and every episode of NXT from week to week. The Ascension versus El Local and Kalisto is somewhat more interesting, if just because it's probably the first real threat to the tag team titles since Arrival at the very least (and that depending on one's opinion of whether or not Too Cool still had it in them at the first live special to actually mount a believable challenge to two individuals such as Konnor and Viktor). In the end the champions take it decisively, though, and nobody is particularly surprised.

A few might be disappointed, but nobody is really surprised. Say what you will about the Ascension, but they have certainly learned how to work as an effective, single-minded unit both in and out of the ring, and there's probably not a lot going on right now that can really derail them. There are a few recent glimmers of life in the tag team division, to be sure, but nothing concrete yet.

Adrian and Corey were never fond of each other during their partnership, but they'd been watching each other wrestle for almost a year and knew more than enough to translate it into effective tag team work. By contrast, Kalisto and El Local are a new team, and complementary styles will only get one so far against the potentially-supernatural cohesiveness of a tandem like the Ascension. Despite his history in NXT, Adrian is really no tag team expert, but that much is pretty obvious to anyone, really.

But Sami versus Tyler has all the potential in the world to be a standout match – it's kind of what Sami's slowly becoming famous for, and Tyler's definitely no slouch in the ring either, even if relatively few people are aware of such a fact as of yet. So by the time the twenty-minute classic is over, Adrian really isn't surprised to hear 'match of the year candidate' comments bandied about by many of the guys and girls in the back.

Actually, he's a tad bit worried. He and Tyson have the main event, naturally – it is the title match for the NXT Heavyweight Championship; the most prestigious title in the developmental territory catalogue – and really, it's going to be exceedingly difficult to follow that up. He thinks they can manage it, maybe, but it's going to be hard. And he's not willing to near-kill himself or otherwise do anything stupid just to eclipse Sami and Tyler's show-stopper.

To retain the title, yeah, maybe, but not just to show up both his best friend and the man he's currently in a relationship with.

Adrian's also rather torn over the result, just as he was always going to be short of a double disqualification or similar leading to a triple threat with the post-Takeover champion (it's going to be him; it has to be him, but Adrian's not going to risk jinxing it even in his thoughts).

On the one hand, Sami is probably the best friend he's ever had, and they've known each other pretty much ever since Adrian first came to the States, not quite a decade ago now. That they've both ended up here is incredible, and there are very few others he'd like to share this experience with. And of those few, there's really nobody else who he could play roller hockey with, or who would so eagerly attend a ska concert with him. None of his other friends share as many similar interests with him as Sami does, and that's why they're not his best friend.

On the other hand, Tyler's quickly managed to become one of the most entertaining aspects of his life. Adrian had come into this initially expecting it to pretty much just be convenient stress-relief sex; quick and dirty and not at all acknowledged outside of the act itself – and of course, somehow Tyler has gone and exceeded all of his expectations. Gorgeous, outrageous Tyler, with his arrogance and his vanity and his ridiculously self-centred thought process, has managed to turn this little thing of theirs into something affectionate and considerate and rewarding.

Adrian's still not ready to really reflect on everything their relationship actually is, but he knows it is definitely getting more serious than probably either of them ever intended, and somehow he's okay with that. Still not thinking too hard about it, maybe, but he can vaguely acknowledge it in the deep, deep privacy of his own mind.

When all is said and done, though, it's Tyler who comes up with the victory. The finish is nearly as controversial as the one which eventually saw Tyson Kidd winning through to face Adrian himself for the title, and Sami and Tyler facing each other for the right to face the winner of tonight's title match. Because Sami runs in for his patented Helluva Kick, and Tyler instinctively raises his hands to protect his face, because it's Tyler Breeze and of course he does. But the nature of the kick means that Tyler's reflexive attempt at self-defence sees Sami crotching himself against Tyler's arm or elbow, and it's honestly unclear whether or not it should be called a low blow. Sami probably thinks it should, Tyler obviously most likely doesn't, and in the end the ref doesn't call for a disqualification. Tyler takes advantage of Sami's impaired state, hits the Beauty Shot, and gets the one-two-three to win the match.

It's not exactly a clean, untainted victory, but Adrian's under no delusions as to Tyler actually caring for such things. In the end, it's his semi-significant other picking up the victory, and Sami coming up short yet again (because Adrian will never be so cruel as to actually say it, but the other thing Sami's becoming famous for is his apparent inability to get the job done when it comes to 'the big one').

He's happy for Tyler and he hurts for Sami, and Adrian honestly hopes neither man manages to find him before it's time for his own match.

So it turns out that he and Tyson think more alike than expected, but not so much alike that neither of them can adjust, and after a tense early period, things really start to get underway as they both branch out more offensively. Adrian's the one who branches out more, though, or maybe he's just younger and quicker and fresher; too much for Tyson to keep up with, because after a while he can settle back into more familiar patterns, and maybe Tyson is too old or too injured or too out of practice after so much time on Total Divas, but the other man just can't keep up.

Adrian gets the victory in the end, because of course he does (thank fucking god he does; there were several moments when he was starting to get really worried; Tyson should not have as much go in him as he does, and frankly, it's kind of irritating and maybe just a tiny bit intimidating). The Red Arrow has always been a high-risk, high-reward manoeuvre, and there is no reward higher than looking up after the three count to see the ref hurrying towards him with his title. It's been a long, intense match, and it hurts to stand, to breathe, even to think; of course, Adrian does it anyway. Because he's the champion, and he's damn well earned this, no matter what anyone might say.

He's not expecting too many nay-sayers, really, but as the old adage goes, there's one in every crowd.

He's also not expecting Kidd to rebuff his offer of a respectful handshake quite so abruptly, either (really, it's not very Canadian of him – what is Nattie going to think about that, hmm?). Because they put on a damn good match together; one that they can both definitely be proud of, and Adrian usually prefers to just leave everything in the ring where possible, but this? This isn't the sort of thing he's going to forget, even if he's also not going to deck the man just for being an arsehole and thus ruin the moment.

Adrian's still the champion, which is all that really matters at the end of the day. Tyson Kidd can be as rude as he likes to a point, but it won't change the fact that he's not leaving Takeover with the title. He couldn't get the win, but Adrian did, and so he can afford to be magnanimous.

'Magnanimous' in this case meaning that Tyson's allowed to walk away after such a slight; Adrian simply watches him leave to be certain there will be no nasty, surprising sneak attacks or the like, and then he returns to celebrating. Not even to rub it in Kidd's face, really, but he is the champion still, and he's damn well earned this.

It's more of the same by the time he makes it backstage; congratulations flowing thick and fast from friends and respected foes alike. It felt strange at Arrival – gratifying, but strange – and apparently it's not something one really gets used to, because he's still equal parts flattered and flustered by all the attention. It's certainly nice, though; it feels good to be, well, appreciated is probably a good way to describe it, and it's weird but it's like by doing himself proud he's done everyone else proud as well? Not just Triple H and Stephanie and the other behind-the-scenes people, but all the other wrestlers too, even if there's some he'd hesitate to even call acquaintances.

It's great and all, but Adrian doesn't see either of the two faces he wants the most to see. Presumably Sami and Tyler are still recovering after their match, which is what he would prefer to be doing, but then there's a member of production at his shoulder telling him to find a shirt and get a mic on, because he'll be wanted on the post-show in about fifteen minutes.

Obediently, he heads to his locker room to throw on a shirt, splash some cold water on his face to wash away the worst of the sweat, and generally just take a minute or two to collect himself. The last verges of adrenaline are starting to fade now, and he's cooling down rapidly – he's going to be stiff and achy tomorrow, right down to his bones and all over his body, but it's definitely worth it.

Nights like these make everything worth it.

Somebody is waiting with a mic when he re-emerges, belt over his shoulder and hair hastily pushed back out of his face (not that it's going to stay, but it's the effort that counts or something like that). He's led the short distance to the post-show set, and he gets a brief glimpse of Sami happily dancing while Adam Rose and the rest of the Exotic Express party crew cheer him on. Renee is grinning in delight, while Paul Heyman looks thoroughly unamused and perhaps even somewhat disgusted by the display.

Pretty par for the course then, really. Adrian has to grin as Sami begs off to a round of applause and protests, smiling politely the entire time as he makes his way off-stage and the two-person panel quickly engage Rose with a round of questioning.

"Good match," Adrian says warmly, at the exact moment as Sami says the same thing. There's a split second where they regard each other in amusement, before Sami laughs and Adrian gratefully accepts the obligatory hug. "No, seriously man, that match was bloody amazing."

"You didn't do so badly yourself," Sami says, clapping him firmly on the shoulder blade. "I mean, I'm mad as hell that I didn't win, but I'm kind of sadistically amused now that you're going to have to kick Breeze's vainglorious ass for the title, and then do some seriously ridiculous crawling to get him in bed again after."

"…you're a real pal, Sami." Adrian attempts a scowl for a moment, but really, he's way too happy right now to pull it off effectively, so in the end he just settles for rolling his eyes. Sami only grins in response, before looking up as somebody hurries over, no doubt to tell Adrian to get his rear out onto the set, post-haste. "I'll catch you, man."

"Yeah, for sure. Talk tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," Adrian throws over his shoulder, but then Sami's gone and he's out on the set, and now he has to focus on Renee's effervescent praise (bless the woman, honestly; she's just so genuinely nice, and that's such a rare thing to find, sometimes), and then Paul Heyman is on his feet, offering Adrian his chair, and, well. Well. He's really not sure how to take that at all, but it doesn't really matter in the end.

Because he looks up at a hubbub off to the side, and it doesn't even surprise him in the slightest when Tyler stalks onto the set, with a bloody personal make-up artist or some such trailing behind him and flitting about like a particularly worried moth around a gaudy, self-absorbed butterfly.

He tries not to smile at the notion that Tyler would probably take that comparison as a compliment, and Adrian even thinks he's almost successful at concealing his amusement. At least, he is until the first thing Tyler even does is just brush aside his hanger-on and swing himself up onto the commentary-esque desk. It's the exact same manner he uses to pose on the ring apron during his entrance, and Adrian knows that he doesn't quite manage to hide the brief flicker of amusement – and Tyler catches it too, by the arrogant quirk of one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

Adrian's also quite certain he's the only one reading the less-than-innocent intent in the heavy, meaningful stare Tyler directs his way. "Do you remember me?" Tyler asks, ignoring Renee's instinctive flinch backwards and Heyman holding a microphone to his face, all in favour of paying attention to Adrian, for once. He'd be flattered by the attention in any other situation, but, well.

It's a ridiculous question, really, but he indulges Tyler anyway. "I remember you."

"I'm the number one contender for your NXT championship," Tyler continues, because of course it has to be about him. It can't be about Adrian's victory, or the thirty-minute marathon he and Kidd have just put on. No, it has to be about Prince Pretty and his future title shot.

Adrian wishes he could be more annoyed by it, but really, it's Tyler. He'd expect nothing less, at this stage of their acquaintance.

Tyler holds the stare for another tense, charged moment, before something he sees seems to satisfy him, and he tilts his head and swings down from the table. Adrian watches him saunter away, only breaking eye contact when Tyler's no longer even visible behind the mess of the set offstage, in order to exchange glances with Renee and Paul Heyman. Renee mostly just looks bemused, and maybe she's picked up on the tension, because she seems rather uneasy about the entire exchange.

Beside her, Heyman manages to look both completely nonplussed and taken aback, but there's something under the initial shock of meeting somebody as vivaciously flamboyant as Tyler that strikes Adrian as cold and calculating. It's the same look Heyman had given him when offering him a seat earlier, hidden though it was behind the layers of false, effusive courtesy, and he makes a mental note to somehow warn Tyler to be tread extremely carefully if an offer from Paul Heyman ever floats his way.

Not dismiss it out of hand, because that would be the height of foolishness, but just tread carefully. Paul Heyman is a snake, no doubt about it – and Takeover might just be the grass he chooses to hide behind.

"You're all sweaty," Tyler complains half-heartedly, but he makes no attempt to roll away from where he's half-sprawled over Adrian, and in fact he whines high in his throat when Adrian has the nerve to shift slightly under him. "No, stop that; it wasn't an invitation, you jerk."

Adrian chuckles lowly, and Tyler huffs and squirms against him, until Adrian rolls away, and Tyler follows him with a scowl on his face and those marvellous eyes flashing in irritation. He laughs openly when Tyler seizes his wrist and tugs sharply, and Adrian lets himself be pulled back towards the centre of the bed again, smoothing a hand down the tangled strands of mussed blond hair in front of him. Tyler shifts back until he's neatly curled into the curve of Adrian's body – for all that he's probably a good three inches taller than Adrian, Tyler somehow manages to fit into the position of little spoon like he was made for it when they're all cozied up together like this.

"I'm not going to go easy on you," Tyler says, after a moment, and it takes a moment to register with Adrian what he's actually talking about, but the other man powers on without waiting for an answer. "I want that title, and all of this has nothing to do with that, okay? It's not personal; not really, not any longer, but I'm still going to take that title from you."

"You're going to try," Adrian corrects gently, gripping a little tighter with the arm draped over Tyler's hip when Tyler tries to twist around to face him. No doubt he has an irritated, indignant scowl ready to go, but Adrian really doesn't want or need to see that right now. "No, look; listen to me, Tyler. I completely agree – what we do in the ring to each other has nothing to do with what we do in bed together. But I have absolutely no intention of giving this title up any time soon, no matter how pretty the challenger is."

"And I have no intention of losing, no matter how strangely tolerable the champion has managed to become," Tyler counters snidely, but the way he tries to huddle even deeper into Adrian's embrace probably betrays a lot more than he would actually like to admit. "You're still an uggo, by the way, and I still maintain the title needs somebody gorgeous holding it."

"I'll let you hold it on occasion when my arm's getting sore or something, if you like."

"You are the worst," Tyler says, and this time he succeeds in twisting around – but he only leans across to press an oddly affectionate kiss to Adrian's lips, leaving Adrian regarding him in bemusement. "Why can't I hate you?"

"Same reason I can't hate you, probably; whatever reason that turns out to be. If you ever figure it out, let me know, because I've got no idea, either."

Adrian yawns widely, and Tyler claps a hand over his mouth, frowning in mild irritation. Adrian tugs his hand away and down, leaning forward to bury his head into the side of Tyler's neck, until the other man takes the hint and slides his arm around to hold him instead.

"The worst," Tyler murmurs fondly, and it's the last thing he hears before he drifts off to sleep.