Transcending The Stars - 7. April Fool's Day

Monday, April 1st 2019

"Still can't believe you're getting out of this place," Amy lamented as Ezra finished up his shift, throwing his apron into the hamper and unclipping his name badge. "I'll be here until I die. I'll be that seventy-year-old waitress still trying to get her hooks into every lonely looking trucker that runs through."

"I know, it'll suck for you," Ezra laughed in her face. "Selling your labour to a boss who would only miss you until he found a replacement for you."

"You're not baiting me today!" Amy flicked a bit of grease from the end of her spatula towards him. "We've still got two weeks together, and I'm in no mood on a Monday to listen to you spit on America."

"Rain check, then!" Ezra gave her a firm pat on the shoulder as he passed her, not a cloud in the sky as far as he was concerned. "See you tomorrow, Amy! I'll wait till Friday to tell you why you're wrong about everything!"

"Ergh," she grunted, slipping a glance his way and smiling with the left corner of her mouth. Hehe. She loves me! "Have a good one."

As much as he and Amy were polar opposites on the political spectrum and often argued and criticised each other, the two did enjoy each other's company. He was going to miss her when he left the diner for good! A week from next Friday. Then I'll never have to come in here again! When he collected his bag, Gus surprised him in the break room. He was a large man. Decades of eating from the diner he owned and an aversion to exercise didn't do much for his figure. He presented himself well, though, in smart business clothes and his hair and beard neatly trimmed. He only popped briefly every couple of days. Must be nice!

"Young man, do you mind if we have a quick chat before you head out?" Gus asked in a surprisingly smooth voice.

"Sure!" Ezra sat back down on one of the squeaky chairs and gave a small wince of pain. He hadn't slept well and nine hours on his feet had not done him any favours. "What's up?"

"About your two weeks' notice," Gus sighed, the chair groaning underneath him as it supported his weight. "I was wondering if you would reconsider."

"Hmm?" Ezra frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean would you like to reconsider?" Gus raised an eyebrow. "What else?" He had with him the letter Ezra typed up and gave to him last Wednesday, tapping it on the table. Two a half weeks' notice, to be fair. Is that not enough?

"No I wouldn't," Ezra felt awkward and somewhat annoyed by the question. "I'll be going to Knoxville the Monday after to start training with KADA."

"The problem is that two weeks isn't enough time for you to train a replacement, I fear," Gus' revelation was news to Ezra. Very unwelcome news.

"Me? Train my replacement?" Ezra leaned forward. "That's news to me! Will you be compensating me for this?"

"No..." Gus admitted, and Ezra bit his tongue.

"Then no," he replied curtly. "When Paula had her baby, you never replaced her, and I got stuck doing her workload as well as mine. I'm not accepting another increase in workload unless you compensate me for it."

"Don't give me that attitude, please. Training someone to replace you when you leave is only fair. It's your responsibility."

"It's actually not, though," the young man argued, leaning back and folding his arms. "It's your diner and you're the boss! It's your responsibility, not mine!"

"Why?" Gus challenged him, his voice raised as he slapped the paper down on the table in a show of machismo designed to intimidate the boy before him. "You know, I did you a favour when I agreed to hire you--"

"You're paying me the minimum wage you're forced to by law," Ezra scornfully replied. He hated that Gus treated him like property! "That is not a favour! It only says you'd pay me less if the law let you."

"That's not true," Gus was starting to get angry as well.

"Yes, it is!" Ezra raised his voice as well. "You know how I know? Because I have worked hundreds of hours of unpaid overtime since I started. I'm not a commodity. If you want more from me than the minimum, then you'll have to pay me more than minimum. That's only fair."

"I tell you what, young man. Your generation is the laziest, most entitled--"

"Oh, don't even!" Ezra snapped at him, standing up and moving to leave before he lost his temper. "When Paula left, you just doubled my workload and never gave me any type of raise. You refuse to pay me for the overtime hours you forced me to work. You squeeze all the work out of me you can at the minimum legal cost, and you call me entitled? Pfft. What a joke."

"Watch your mouth!" Gus roared, and Ezra was thankful the door was closed so the whole world wouldn't hear what was going on. "If that's the way you feel about your job here, then so be it. Don't come in tomorrow. Don't come in at all!"

"Okay, bye!" Ezra waved at him, and Gus, who believed the boy to be bluffing, went red from both fury and embarrassment.

"You wouldn't just walk away from me after everything I've done for you!" Gus shouted, slamming his fist on the table as the boy left the room and closed the door behind him.

"Hah, yes I would!" Ezra retorted as he stormed out to the kitchen. "I don't even like you very much!"

"What the hell is going on?" Amy asked, her face wilting in concern. "What did you do?"

"I'm not being allowed to quit," Ezra explained angrily. "I guess I won't see you tomorrow after all. Gus sacked me because I wouldn't reconsider leaving and I wouldn't train my replacement without getting paid for it."

"You've been sacked?" Amy repeated stupidly. "You? Why you? This is an April Fool's prank, right? You're a terrific little waiter!"

"Nope. Have a good one, Amy," Ezra wished her the best. Although they seemed to do nothing but argue, he didn't dislike her as a person.

Ezra expected to feel free and liberated when he stepped outside, but... that wasn't exactly what happened. He'd fantasised about quitting his job in exemplary fashion so many times. He thought it would be exciting. Unshackling! The cold air and feeling of doubt in his heart told him otherwise. Why? I don't need that job! All it's done is to make it hard to do things I actually want to do! Gus doesn't respect me! He doesn't appreciate how hard I've worked. He only recognises the money I make for him. I hated working there. I've got much better things coming my way! So why do I feel like a total blasted failure? Well, at least I'll have more time to spend with Beau, at least. He'll like that for sure. Ezra's mouth curled into a contented smile when he lumbered into his beat-up old car, thinking of his boyfriend.

~

Friday, April 1st 2016

"Can we go on a date?" Ezra asked Beau randomly as he gnawed at the sandwich he made for himself. It tasted like cardboard, but Jakub was never awake early enough to see his kids off, and Glennys wasn't in the habit of making food for her children.

"Mm, funny," Beau eyed him off. He had two slices of pizza from the cafeteria. Rich kids! "You're funny."

"I'm not funny," Ezra frowned, putting his cheese and butter sandwich down for a moment. "I want to go on a date with you."

"You're not fooling me today," Beau lifted his nose to the air and shook his head. "Nope. Nope. Play your jokes on someone else, please."

"Hey! I'm serious here!" Ezra was almost offended by Beau's response. "April Fool's Day be buggered! I like you."

"Careful, Ez," Beau smirked at him. "Everyone else might hear you and think you actually are some queer boy. They already make jokes about us."

"So what?" The blond boy brushed his hand over his head. His hair was getting longer now! He planned to have his first actual haircut in a very long time, rather than simply having to shave it off over and over again. "I wanna go on a date with you. I promise it's not a trick! Don't you believe me?"

"Frankly, no," the brown-haired boy folded his arms, getting annoyed. "Are you trying to make me believe you're gay and you're interested in me?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to make you believe!" Ezra wasn't exactly quiet about it. "I am gay! And I think you're cute and sweet and I want to go on a date."

"Yeah?" Beau snorted. "Prove it."

"Prove it?" Ezra laughed aloud. "How?"

"Kiss me," Beau challenged him, and Ezra's heart leapt in his chest. He made it sound like a challenge! Little did he know Ezra had wanted to kiss him for weeks and weeks!

"Here? Now? You think I won't?" Ezra smirked, and Beau shrugged.

"You're not gonna do it. You're a good little Christian boy with a--"

Beau trailed off when Ezra hopped out of his seat, and he was speechless when the boy's lips pressed against his. He didn't seem to know what to do. Ezra was in heaven! Three seconds the kiss lasted and Beau never once objected. Ezra flushed red when he realised he just made an emphatic coming out to half the blasted school!! Everyone saw that!! Nobody seemed sure what to think! Yes, there had been rumours about Ezra and Beau since they became friends, but they weren't prepared for this! Beau especially was shocked. It was gorgeous! The look of both surprise and joy on his face!

~

Monday, April 1st 2019

"Heeey!" Beau cooed as he opened the front door. He must have heard me coming up the driveway! Ezra couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. "What?"

"You look beautiful," Ezra had to tell him immediately. "You got all dressed up! Look atchu! You're a bona fide cutie!"

"Shouldn't I have?" Beau asked. "You remember what today is, right?"

"Pfft, I told you Happy Anniversary and kissed you goodbye this morning!" Ezra stood close and rested his head against his boyfriend's clavicle, letting Beau kiss him on the top of the head. "You don't remember? Shame on you. Boo hiss boo."

"Oof, she's on the high road today," Beau dragged him inside and shut the door behind them. "Are you alright, big man? What's going on?"

"I lost my job today," Ezra felt safe and snug in those arms of his love. "I mean, I was leaving anyway, but I was hoping to get enough to fund my trip down south. I don't think that can happen now."

"Whose trip down south?" Beau pushed him back so he could glare at him with those beautiful blues. "I didn't realise you were breaking up with me."

"Our trip!" Ezra corrected himself quickly.

"Okay good, so I can contribute!" Beau leaned down so he could put his lips against his lover's, and Ezra hungrily kissed him back. Nobody made him feel so good, even when he wasn't feeling so hot. "Because!" Kiss. "I!" Kiss. "Love!" Kiss. "You!" Big kiss! "I know you feel like you need to do this all by yourself, but you really don't, my big man. Mom and Dad will help out until you start getting paid."

"Mmm? And why would they do that? Your Mom doesn't like me, and your Dad is totally whipped by her," Ezra gloomily pointed out.

"Because it'll make me happy!" Beau reminded him with a smug grin. Ezra had to laugh. He was spoiled rotten! But at least he was aware of it. The cutie. "Foxy's not gonna be any less impressed with you if you let your boyfriend pitch in, you know."

"You would know!" Ezra poked his tongue out. "You're the one who talks with him every day! I never saw that coming. The guy who hates wrestling becomes instant besties with one of the best wrestlers in the world overnight. You couldn't write this stuff."

"Leave us alone, you homophobe. Neither of us has anyone to talk about gay stuff with because our boyfriends are glorified straighties," Beau played with Ezra's blond pompadour hairstyle. It was the longest Ezra had ever been able to grow it! If he let his bangs fall naturally, he could touch them with his tongue! "Can I cheer you up?"

"You're already cheering me up," Ezra smiled at him, but Beau's cheeky leer spoke for itself.

"I'm just saying, now's a great time," Beau gently ran his trimmed nails down the length of Ezra's spine, and the boy gave a small moan of appreciation. "I've already prepped myself and nobody's home. Nobody will be home for a couple of hours." When Ezra made a noise of hesitation, Beau moved to seal the deal. "If we have sex tonight, we'll have to be quiet! If we get it on right now... you can make me scream."

The taller boy chuckled as the smile on Ezra's face grew.

"That sounds great," Ezra cheekily slipped his index fingers into the waistline of Beau's pants and stroked his hipbones. "I really, really love you."

"Baby!" Beau cooed, shivering at his boyfriend's touches. "I love you too. Let me show you how much."

~

Sean Fox

Monday, April 1st 2019

When his music played, Sean picked up the hand mirror he took with him to the ring and stared at his reflection the entire time he walked to the ring from the stage. He didn't engage with the fans at all. He was supposed to be a total narcissist, and Sean always committed. Even when he was a caricature of his own culture, he played the role with conviction. That's what it meant to be a wrestler. Dragonfly waited patiently for him on the other side of the ring as he shed the pretty purple satin cloak from his shoulders. The referee picked it up and tossed it over the top rope, and while he wasn't looking, Sean used his mirror to smack his opponent in the face and quickly threw it away before the referee noticed. That got a huge reaction from the fans - although he was a villain, Sean had always been a popular wrestler, and most of them cheered him on.

The match began in earnest after that, and Dragonfly brought one heck of a fight. It warmed Sean's heart to see someone so dedicated to the craft. He was new, a young Chinese man who went to the gym twice a day and sparred with one of the other wrestlers, one of his real-life best friends. These are the people, Sean thought as he locked Dragonfly into a resting submission so the two could catch their breath after an intense exchange of high-flying moves. Us. We deserve to run this company. We put in the work. We make sacrifices. If Margaret Bloom seeks to hold me down again, the whole division will back me up. If Diego Silva and Lance Lovecraft try to cut ahead of me again, the division will slap them down. Their five minutes of fame has come to an end. The sun has set, and it will rise on me. Oliver and me. And Dragonfly, and James Vause, and all of us who throw our very souls into wrestling!

Last year, Sean was rarely booked on the main Friday show, and he was sent back to the Island. The Monday show was a minor televised event that KADA used for new or rusty talent that needed to learn how to wrestle for the cameras. How to compose themselves on television. How to be ready for the main event. To go back there after almost main eventing a pay-per-view and becoming Heavyweight Champion felt like an insult. It was an insult! But that was last year. Now, he had a new persona. With Oliver's help, he had washed the taint from his life and allowed himself to begin again. Focused. Clean. Strong. No abuse of medication or alcohol. Mind, body and soul united and stain free. Tonight, Sean was about to celebrate his seventh televised victory in a row. The main event was all about Jimmy Vause and Kodeine, but their feud apparently came to an end on Friday's Pay Per View night. Someone new had to fill those shoes. Why not me?

Meanwhile, Michelle had been helping Sean mend his soiled credibility after Margaret's nearsighted booking had damaged his reputation, and he was racking up victory after victory, slowly being rebuilt as a threat. It wasn't an accident. He was sure he would be getting another chance at winning a championship soon, especially now that Margaret was back on her husband's shoulder where she belonged.

Sean put Dragonfly down for the count after nailing a gorgeous Moonsault, sailing backwards from the top rope and squashing the Chinese man underneath, and the crowd was ecstatic when Paparazzi played through the arena, signalling the boy's dominance as the referee raised his hand. Sean couldn't have been happier. He was wrong. Oliver was there waiting for him backstage, dressed in a trendy button-up lavender shirt and tight black pants. They showed off his muscular, powerful body in the most arousing of ways, and Sean had to remember to behave himself at work. It was a burden being in the public eye so much sometimes, he thought. What I wouldn't do to make out with him right now. The locker room respected them both as athletes and turned a blind eye to their public displays of affection. Their relationship had never been a secret among those backstage, but they refused to comment on it when approached by paparazzi and fans.

"Damn, Seano!" Oliver's attractive grin always made him feel warm on the inside. "You look good enough to eat, all topless and sweaty like that."

"Oh, I am!" Sean lovingly pied his partner's face with his hand before sitting down on the nearby table rather than one of the chairs. This way, he and Oliver were closer to eye level. "What do you think, Oliver? Did I do well?"

"You did great!" Oliver frowned slightly when Sean didn't seem convinced. "You put your heart into everything you did. Chen did great too. It was a great match."

"Great isn't good enough," Sean looked down at his dirtied satin pants. They were a treat to walk down to the ring in, but after fifteen minutes of the most intense workout in the world, he wasn't comfortable in them. "I have to be legendary!"

"You're so serious, Seano!" Oliver rolled his beetle-black eyes. "You're allowed to have a little fun out there, you know!"

"I did have fun!" Sean smiled when Oliver brushed the hair from his sweaty face and giggled when the man raised an eyebrow. "I did! I just think I could have done better."

"Don't get me wrong, baby, I love that you've turned everything around! But damn, you can cut yourself a bit of slack once in a while," Oliver lectured him playfully. "You used to love having fun with Lan... well, you had fun."

"I did," Sean admitted pensively, letting a sigh escape him. "But what good did that do me? I lost damn near everything because of them."

"That's not true, baby. You know that's not true," Oliver shook his head and brushed Sean's chin with his fingers. People swarmed by left and right, but nobody disturbed them. "Maybe they did you dirty, but we've all done shitty things. Plus, it's the tornado that flattened our home like a pancake. Never forget who risked everything to save our animals, baby."

That comment gave Sean pause. Diego was there that night. They were supposed to go camping in the woods nearby the house Sean and Oliver shared with all the animals. Thinking of the chickens they lost to the winds and one of the dogs tore open those wounds all over again. They haunted him. They depended on him to keep them fed, sheltered, happy and safe, and he failed. But Diego did his best. Diego snatched a hysterical Sean up and took him into the basement before the twister went right over their heads. Those feelings were still there. Buried deep under resentment, hatred and bitterness, but they existed. They always would. Diego was special. Sweet and loving to Sean but cold and distant to everybody else. He loved me. I loved him. But that's over, now. I disgraced myself and tore Oliver's heart to shreds. But he forgave me. Second chances are rare. There would not be a third. It means I can't screw up this time. I have to hate Diego. If I didn't... no. I have to.

"By the way, baby, I got you a little something!" Oliver snapped him out of those thoughts. "Just to treat you for making such a damn good effort lately, hey?"

"A treat?" Sean's ears pricked and his big brown eyes followed Oliver as he rushed to the catering table and picked up that delicious looking rhubarb pie that had been sitting there for at least forty-five minutes now. Nobody had dared to touch it. All twelve slices remained! Strange. "Ollie! That was yours?"

"Chandler brought it in for me, but yeah, it's for you," Oliver beamed at him, setting it down on the table. "I told the fools around here that whoever touches my baby's pie gets their face shoved in it."

"I shouldn't! I'm trying to avoid sweets," Sean tried to talk himself out of it. He was very good at following diets... mostly. If he didn't eat sugar, he didn't want it. However, if he did get a taste for pastries or cream, then it was like the floodgates bursting open, and he could scoff it until he made himself sick! "But I can't say no to you, can I?"

Sean gazed happily at his prize, wondering how he scored such an amazing boyfriend. He was too involved with Oliver and the pie to realise people had gathered around him, and he never saw it coming. The very second Sean dared to put his fingers on a slice, Oliver shoved his face down into the middle of the delicious dessert. Sean yelped in shock and horror, his face, bared chest and beautiful long hair all covered in cream and rhubarb filling. He wailed when he sat up, wiping the sweet substances from his eyes.

"April Fools!" Oliver teased him, the whole cast and crew of KADA's Monday show near hysterical with laughter.

"Oliver!!" Sean was embarrassed as he could possibly be, but he couldn't stop laughing. He fell for Ollie's prank hook, line and sinker! "You giant jackass! I hope it was worth not having sex for a month!!"

"You fucked up this time, big Ol," Chandler smirked, letting out occasional giggles at the sight of Sean Fox looking like a total fool.

"Fucked up so bad!" Sean grabbed at his man's face and squeezed it between his fingers. "I'm gonna get you for this! You won't see it coming, but when you do, oh it's going to be sweet!"

"Worth it to see you lose the stick up your ass for a few minutes! You've been a drag lately!" Oliver chuckled, and Sean couldn't help but laugh and scoop the mess from his face with his finger, licking it off and admitting to himself that maybe he was getting overzealous. Damn, this pie is good. I'll have to get another.

~

Friday, December 11th 2015

"Where do you fancy heading out to?" Oliver asked him, shivering in the freezing Alaskan winter and zipping his coat up to his chin.

"You're taking me out to apologise for dumping me on the canvas, remember? This is all on you!" Sean smiled, and Oliver laughed and sucked his teeth.

"I can't catch a guy who doesn't jump close enough!" The pretty man reminded him. "You must have been desperate to... fall for me." He winked, and Sean groaned out loud.

He'd fancied the look of this man upon seeing him some months ago. He had a charming face, and he shaved elaborate patterns into the very short buzzcut he sported. He had bright, mischievous eyes that lit up when Sean was kind to him, but it was that smile that won the Cherokee boy's heart. That smile could have seduced Jimmy Vause and Diego Silva with enough left over to secure a tasteful nude photo of Ellen Degeneres, he was sure. And it's me he keeps smiling at!

"It's a bit late to go somewhere for a traditional first date, I think," Sean decided, looking at the time on his phone. "Would you be okay with just getting a burger or something? I'm not great in fancy places."

"Hell yeah!" Oliver started laughing in relief. "You're sure that's how you want our first date to go?"

"My first date fantasy was already dead in the water when you asked me out because you forgot to catch me!" Sean teased him, daring to reach out and touch Oliver's arm.

"Works for me. Let's get something so greasy we hate ourselves after!" The bigger man took Sean's physical affection as a go-ahead to snatch his hand and squeeze it. "Man, you're warm! How aren't you freezing?"

"My blood runs warm," Sean shrugged merrily. While Oliver was in a very snug padded jacket, he was wearing only an old tee-shirt and a black hooded sweater. He brought Oliver's hand up to his cheek. "Feel for yourself."

"Insane!" Oliver gasped in awe. "I could get used to that. You'd be better than a hot water bottle!"

The flirting was gorgeous and full of life, and Sean felt giddy. Butterflies in his stomach. What wasn't to like about Oliver Vickery after all? He was fiercely intelligent, had a lovely sense of humour and was outgoing in all the right ways. And so handsome! Sean, on the other hand, was shy and introverted. Had Oliver not asked him out, he would not have been brave enough to do the same. Still, he was insecure. People mocked him for the way he presented himself. The pride he had in where he came from. The beliefs he held dear. There were so few wrestlers from the Native American tribes. In fact, Sean was currently the only one in KADA or any of the other televised promotions. It had been six years since Andrea Davis retired. The lack of adequate representation meant that Sean's background was often misunderstood.

"You haven't asked yet," Sean remarked after a short while as the two waited for the crossing lights to turn, and Oliver looked at him strangely. "About my bracelets or hair or necklace. About my heritage."

"I'm gonna be completely honest, little Seano," Oliver replied uncomfortably, looking away at the traffic. "I don't know anything about Cherokee culture. I know you take it seriously, so I'm worried to hell that I'll say the wrong thing."

"Thank you for saying that," Sean was knocked off guard by Oliver's honesty. "That's... actually lovely to hear. Most people just make assumptions and listen to gossip and rumours. It offends me when they do that, and I'm getting a reputation for being an angry little snowflake."

"You are known for being a bit prickly," Oliver squeezed the other boy's fingers with a grin, and Sean chuckled. "Don't worry about that. Tell you what! How about I buy you a drink and in return, you tell me your life story. I wanna know everything about what it means to be Cherokee."

"Oh! Okay!" Sean wasn't exactly sure what to say, but Oliver apparently did. He was saying all the right things! Heh. "Why, though?"

"Why not? I like you!" His date gently pulled him by the hand when it was time to cross. "Not just because you're cuter than a puppy and a kitten napping together. You do things your way and you don't apologise for it. I dig that! So start now. You were born at some point. What happened then?"

Sean giggled and felt more at ease than he had since he first left his family. From the walk to the fast food shops, through the cab to the hotel and the kiss goodnight before they departed to their own rooms, Oliver never stopped being interested in him.

~

Monday, April 1st 2019

"It feels so good to be back at home," Oliver remarked as he dragged himself from the rental car towards the newly rebuilt house. It was far from finished, but the couple didn't mind. One step at a time. "Our real home. I miss my Momma, but she's damn well sick of my face."

"Your Momma loves you," Sean scoffed amiably, pinching his lover's firm backside as he walked by. "The umbilical cord is so intact that I'm surprised she doesn't breastfeed you."

"She tries, but I don't like titties," Oliver quipped, and Sean laughed out loud.

The two climbed onto the newly built deck. The walls and roof were up, and the electricity, gas and plumbing were all sorted. Most of the rooms were inhabitable. Still, the place had so much work to go before it returned to its former glory. We'll work it out, Sean thought. Tomorrow, though. It was nearly one in the morning by the time the two arrived at their house, catching a flight after the show. While they were rebuilding their home, they both kept as much of the week as free as possible. Sean snuck into the barn and flicked the lights on to say hello to the gorgeous pets he adored so much. Although he paid his friend Alice to feed the creatures while he was away performing, they were all delighted to see him. Moodonna let him put his arms around her and cuddle her, and Sean smiled so happily. As a treat, he climbed to the loft and dragged down a bale of hay for the animals to feast on in case they grew peckish, and he brought Kevin Bacon inside. The pot-bellied pig was more like a dog than any of the dogs, he thought. Affectionate and so sweet-tempered. The closeness between Sean and his animals fascinated locals, who believed the boy to have shaman-like powers. In truth, it was nothing but pure love and nurture.

"Ollie--" Sean found his way into the bedroom they shared, but his boyfriend was already snoring. Passed out! Excellent. Just as planned.

Oh, what a handsome man, he thought. Ever since we met, I've loved him. I did some awful things, and the spirits punished me. Never again will I make those mistakes. But... Sean did have a mischievous streak, one he shared with Oliver. He silently crept up to the bed on bare feet, right up next to the peacefully sleeping man. He gently shook Oliver, whispering his name as he rocked him awake. When Oliver moaned and looked up at Sean with a smile, the Cherokee boy shoved a banana cream pie right into his face and began cackling with glee.

"Shit!" Ollie panicked, sitting up and spluttering. Sean's giggles intensified as bits and pieces of dessert fell from him onto the blanket underneath. "Oh, you're in trouble now, Seano!"

Sean was laughing too hard to even bother to try and get away. Ollie flew at him and scooped him up in his arms, snickering and kissing his beloved, getting sugary sweetness all over the both of them. Sean hooked his legs around Ollie's waist and began to flirtatiously lick the cream from the black man's lips, his chin, his cheeks and his neck. It tasted sweet, but it tasted sweeter on his boyfriend. It always did. Oliver grinned, and the two began to kiss intensely with their tongues. He wasn't the only one who knew how to play with their food!

~

Diego Silva

Monday, April 1st 2019

"I remember when you first wore that," Diego remarked, keeping his distance from Lance, who looked stunning. "Your first match. You were the peacock. All style, no substance."

"I suppose it was fitting," Lance replied thoughtfully, looking himself in the mirror as he used a brush and a can of hairspray to style his recently dyed red hair. "I didn't know my arse from a bodyslam."

"And when you cried, your makeup ran and you looked like the Joker," Diego added helpfully, and Lance's gleaming red eyes found his in the mirror's reflection, full of scorn.

"Is there a reason you're bringing up the most humiliating day of my life?" He raised a red-coloured eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Because you're looking for a slap."

"Sorry," Diego chuckled, scratching his nose and leaning against the wall and playing with the cuff links on the brand new button up shirt Lance bought him. "Just... memories, you know? You were wearing that peacock feathered outfit the first time I saw you."

"Mm-mm," Lance shook his head. "You met me before then. A few times, many years ago. You just don't remember."

"That doesn't count!" Diego scoffed. "You were just--"

"A fan, I know," Lance's voice was cool and dangerous, and Diego knew from experience that he was on thin ice right now. "It counted to me, Diego. I'm not a berk - I know it was just a job to you. Get paid to pretend to care about the fans. For me, though, it was the best night of the year. My birthday and Christmas presents combined. Please don't tell me it doesn't count." Diego looked guiltily at him, and Lance's slight frown disappeared. "Heh... sorry. I'm so used to telling you what a twat you are that it's habit by now."

"Well, thank you very much!" Diego replied, but the adoring smile on the younger man's face was so infectious that he couldn't help returning it. He was a ray of sunshine. He looked around to see if anyone was close, and he whispered. "Please come home with me tonight. I miss you, and so do the children."

"I can't," Lance was an artist, truly. Diego had no idea how he made that red lion's mane disobey the laws of gravity, but he was sure that Lance sprayed enough of that crap to plug the ozone layer. The British boy was unique in that he always did his own hair and makeup when he modelled for KADA. Everyone else had to let the company's beauticians fix them up. "This photoshoot is going to run pretty late, and I have a lot of odds and sods to deal with tomorrow."

"You're always busy," Diego complained, wanting desperately to hold Lance against him and kiss him on the forehead. "Busy and exhausted. And don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't been eating."

"I like being busy and exhausted," Lance looked directly at him this time. "And I do eat. Cheers."

"Nina looks at me the same way when she lies about finishing her homework," Diego folded his arms across his broad chest. "I'm glad you're putting so much into the job. I really am. But it's okay to slow down once in a while. You're overdoing it, and it's not good for you. Especially when you're only eating once a day - if that."

"Your concern is noted, Diego," Lance dismissed him, making the Brazilian man angry. "Go home. I'll see you on Friday."

"Fine," Diego's eye twitched and he inhaled deeply. As much as he'd grown to love Lance and vice versa, the two still knew how to push each other's buttons. Barely a day went by when the two didn't argue about something. "Will you call during the week? Or will you be too busy working and starving yourself?"

"I'm not one of your bloody children!" Lance snapped at him and waved him off. "Have you thought that maybe you don't know what's best for everybody? That maybe I know what I can and can't do a hell of a lot better than you?"

Diego raised his hands in defeat and turned around without so much as a goodbye, furious with the bratty behaviour of his little protégé. How easy it was to forget that he was twelve years Diego's junior sometimes. In many ways, Lance was mature and grown-up beyond his years, but in others, he was still a teenager. He couldn't bear to think for a moment that maybe Diego, who had been in the wrestling industry for seventeen freaking years now, might know a thing or two about the toll it can take on someone's physical and mental well-being. The red boy just would not listen, and Diego had noticed him slowly getting skinnier and burned out. He worried. Lance mistook the worry for doubt, and he hated when people doubted him.

"Of course I'll call you!" Lance added suddenly as Diego stormed away, giving the Brazilian pause. "I always do. Even when I think you're a total prat. I need to help tuck in your babies, after all."

"Good," Diego's conflicting emotions were deeply confusing. Anger and hurt, but also affection and relief. It was a weird cocktail. "Eat and sleep."

Lance gave the slightest of nods before returning to the mirror. Diego sighed and left. He had a home, a sister and a son to go home to. Lance did not need him.

~

Saturday, July 24th 2010

It was always humbling when there were breaks at his table. Gloria Droese and Michelle Peterson, two of the most acclaimed wrestlers of all time, had lines of up to twenty people apiece. Diego usually did not amass more than five fans at a time in his queue, and sometimes he had nobody at all. It was alright, he supposed. He was relatively new to KADA, whereas the people he sat alongside were veterans and decorated champions. Still, autographs were money. Merchandise was money. He was doing well, but he wanted more. It was London, though. The fans here weren't as fond of him. They adored James Vause, whose parents hailed from Ireland. James was getting the lion's share of the fans tonight, but that was hardly a surprise.

"Olá," Diego greeted the couple that approached him.

They were an odd pair. It looked like a father and his daughter. He was tall, quite fat and balding, dressed in a shirt with a fresh mustard stain and a pair of blue jeans. His daughter was a pretty young thing - if a little strange to look at. Her eyes were purple, as was her shoulder-length hair. She wore lip gloss, and her ears were pierced with purple studs. She looked like she was frightened to death.

"Alright?" The man spoke in the thickest Cockney accent Diego had ever heard in his life. "You're a right corker, mate. We're all Silva supporters in our neck of the woods."

"Thank you very much!" Diego smiled with pride at the man's compliment - though he had no freaking idea what the hell he was talking about. Englishmen. Ergh. "I'm very grateful."

"Blimey, your accent's a lot stronger off the telly," he replied with a hearty chuckle, and his daughter was staring. It was starting to get unnerving. She looked like some alien child eyeing up her next meal. "I'm Garth, and this is Lance."

Garth reached over, and Diego was happy to shake his hand. The Brazilian wrestler offered his hand to the girl, too. Lance. What kind of weird-ass family calls their daughter a boy's name? No wonder she's so off the rails. After Garth nudged her, Lance awkwardly reached over with trembling fingers, all painted purple as well, and shook Diego's hand with a weak, petite grip.

"We'll have one of everything if you don't mind! With your signature, too, and how much for a photo?" Garth opened up his beat-up old wallet, and Diego felt a pang of affection for them. They obviously weren't well off. Diego wasn't exactly rich, but he wouldn't go bankrupt if he cut this poor family a break on the overpriced merchandise.

"One of everything?" Diego was surprised and overjoyed, though. He didn't have a lot of merchandise to sell, but one of everything? True fans, indeed! "My pleasure! For my best English fans, I will do the photo and autographs for no charge. Who am I making these out to?"

"No charge for the photo or the autographs? What a legend," the man laughed, squeezing his little girl's shoulder. "All for Lance. Lovecraft. Spelt just like it sounds."

"No problem!" Diego smiled at Lance, wondering if she ever spoke. "Do you watch KADA often?" He began to scribble on his posters with the permanent marker.

To my biggest fan, thank you for all the support. Your biggest fan, Diego Silva.

Of course, that was embellishing the truth. Diego was a private, withdrawn person. He didn't know how to engage with fans. It felt strange. Unnatural. They gave him love and he returned it only because it was expected of him.

"Every bloody week! Both shows and we have hundreds of old tapes," the man explained excitedly. "Don't worry about my Lance. He's just a shy lad. He's a bigger fan of yours than the rest of the bloody country put together, I reckon."

He? Lance is a boy? Diego soured a little on that revelation, looking once more at what he thought was an unconventional but pretty girl. That's a boy? Explains the lack of tits. Doesn't explain why he's dressing and looking like a girl. Englishmen. I swear. Limp and limey, the lot of them. Diego didn't renege on his promise to sign the posters, his two action figures and his tee shirt free of charge, but he stuck only to his signature.

"Whaddya say, Lance?" Garth nudged him once more, and the small boy stammered.

"Th-thank you! Thank you s-so much!" Lance's accent was much more pleasant to hear, at least. He sounded like the Queen, rather than a redneck Michael Caine.

"You're welcome," Diego put his distaste for Lance aside. He needed to be professional, and he would stick by the promise he made for them. "How about a picture?"

"If it's no trouble, Mr Silva!" Garth fumbled for his smartphone in his pockets, and Diego stepped out of his seat to lean over the table.

Lance had his purple nails in his mouth and Garth gave him a brief hissing noise, and he immediately removed them. So it's not a discipline problem, Diego thought as he posed with an angry, determined look on his face and his fingers curled into a fist. His father just lets him wear makeup and women's clothes. What kind of dad could ever love a child like that? Ugh. Garth snapped a picture and Diego decided it was a good one, at least. He looked great. Lance had the biggest smile on his face. Seeing the young queer boy so happy did give Diego pause, though. It warmed his heart some, even if he didn't approve of the rest of him.

"Thank you ever so much," Garth handed over a bunch of bills in return for a bit of everything from Diego's table. "You probably just made his whole year, Mr Silva! I guarantee that! You got any advice for him?"

"Aim to the stars," Diego gave a brisk nod. "If you miss, you land on the moon."

"To the stars," Lance whispered, giving a quiet chuckle and a merry nod, looking lovingly at the action figures his father bought for him.

The two left shortly after, and Diego quickly forgot about them.

~

Monday, April 1st 2019

It was a little past ten o'clock when Diego managed to make it home and through the huge security gates. He slipped inside and turned the light on, yawning and ready for bed. His body was exhausted from the weekend, wrestling lengthy matches with Salamanca. It looked like Lansilva was finally done with the main event and was slipping into the tag team scene. That'll be nice. Lance will be able to get in the ring more often if we're wrestling as a tag team and not a singles wrestler with his valet. He opened up the door to Julian's room to check in on his gorgeous little man, but the bed was empty. Frowning, he strolled into the living room and began chuckling. Luiza was passed out on the couch, and cuddled up next to her was Julian. The television was quietly playing in the background, and Diego flicked it off with the remote. How lovely, he thought with a huge smile. Julian had always been clingy by nature, but in the past year, he'd been more so than ever thanks to Zoey. Luiza didn't always succeed in putting him to bed.

"Come on, little man," Diego cooed quietly.

He gently pulled Julian off his aunt and carried him slowly to his bedroom. The boy stirred and moaned quietly, putting his face in Diego's neck by instinct, but he did not properly wake. It was so good to be home with him. Diego put him down on his pillow and tucked him in, remembering to give him his favourite stuffed toy to snuggle with during the night and kiss him on the forehead.

"You too!" Diego was less paternal to Luiza and gently shook her awake. "Off to bed."

"I am in bed," Luiza argued with him in Portuguese, half-asleep and apparently still dreaming. "What? What are you doing here?"

"I live here," he smirked, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. "Looks like Julian beat you again."

"Julian? Oh!" Luiza realised she'd fallen asleep on the couch. "Oh. Is he in bed?"

"No thanks to you!" Diego teased, hugging his big sister happily. "Go to bed! I will see you in the morning."

"Yes. Yes, okay," Luiza kissed him on the cheek and stumbled away, already in her pyjamas. "Goodnight."

Diego laughed, then he locked up, switched everything off and happily slipped into his own bed. He dozed off in seconds. A noise in his room woke him.

"Juli, you have your own room," he whined without opening his eyes. "Go to bed, please."

"Didn't I already ask you to stop treating me like a child?" Lance's muffled voice was the one to reply to him.

Diego's eyes shot open and he sat up. "Lance? What?"

The boy was in the ensuite bathroom, already wearing only his silk pyjama shorts and nothing else. He spat his toothpaste into the sink and rinsed it off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I decided you're right and I missed you," the British boy admitted, neatly organising the contents of his bathroom bag in the ensuite Diego barely recognised as his own anymore and approaching the bed. "So... I caught a flight after my photo shoot. I sent you texts! Didn't you get them?"

"Uhh... no," Diego rubbed his tired eyes. "I went to bed."

"You really are such a dad," Lance slipped into his favoured side of the bed and under the covers, nudging Diego aside with his hips. "I still love you."

"I thought you had odds and sods to do in the morning in Grand Rapids," Diego mumbled. "Whatever the fuck that is."

"So I'll get the flight in the morning," Lance slipped an arm under his boyfriend and snuggled close to him. He smelled like hairspray. Heh. "I can't just cancel, but my schedule's more open in a few weeks. Maybe I'll keep it that way."

"And did you eat something before you got here?" Diego pushed his luck, but Lance looked at him with gorgeous eyes. His naked eyes. Only Diego saw him this way. Nobody else.

"I had some grapes on the plane," Lance replied, and when Diego went to lecture him, the boy cut him off. "Yes, yes, I know. You can feed me in the morning."

"I wouldn't mind feeding you right now," Diego placed a kiss on the boy's perfect lips, and Lance giggled against him.

"You're proper filthy," the boy pressed their bodies together, and Diego could feel the boy's erection against his, both of them letting out a moan.