clov3s

im gna copy and paste it here, and if anyone wants to finish it go ahead, just make sure u credit me

They could do this. They could totally do this.

It was their first proper outing to a social event as a family, a work related event no less, since Rhea’s departure. Each member of the Judgement Day, and a plethora of their colleagues, had received an email from the big man, Triple H, himself, inviting them all to a company gathering to commemorate the company’s milestones since his takeover. It weren’t as if they could decline, either, because pretty much the whole roster from each show had been invited, and the whole of Judgement Day (including Rhea, barring the fact that it had to be discussed on a FaceTime where the whole family- inclusive of JD McDonagh for once- could come to a verdict) had agreed to going so that no one could possibly call them out on bunking the event.

For obvious reasons, Rhea herself would not be turning up, but she had played an essential role in levelling Dominik’s confidence to go to the event and actually socialise with his fellow wrestlers on the FaceTime call, reminding him of sweet nothings, of how far he has come in such a short period and how proud she’ll be even if he went with a pout on his face like he had been stuck in for the last few weeks.

So far, it had been a rough month or so without her, with all of the issues regarding Dominik and the rocky relationship he had been beginning to have with his regression since Rhea had returned back home to Australia, and then the whole debacle around Dominik feeling as though he would be abandoned to revel and reside in emotions of utmost despair- especially in the way in which Damian’s actions would juxtapose depending on if they were in front of the cameras, out in the ring, or when they finally reached backstage: where any quests initiated by preying and hurtful eyes that would attempt to enact upon their cruel and ignorant judgements based upon the interactions within their dynamic could be shut down.

In the most simplest ways of describing it: it had been an incredible mess, that not only Dominik learned that Damian, and Finn, would always love him to the point where it could be sickening, but Damian had it honed into his own mind that Dominik needed to understand that he was cherished, and Damian needed to express that no matter where they were. Even if there were thousands of people staring at them. Damian couldn’t keep on maintaining the perpetuating, unrelenting nightmarish cycle of not truly nor effectively communicating how much he genuinely felt heaps of adoration for Dominik outside of their family home; thus, Dominik was left to his own devices to think that Damian did not love him.

Overall, to keep it even more brief than before, it had been a horrible, cob-webbed debacle that no one in their family ever wanted to recreate.

As Dominik leans into Austin Theory slightly, knowing that the action makes people believe as though he is actually digesting their dialogue, he can’t help but pay mind to the feelings of layering guilt- he wanted to go home, but he knows how much work had been put into this moment; how long it took for them to get Dominik somewhat keen to go, and even getting ready had been a bit of a chore from what Dominik could remember from behind the fog of his headspace.

Originally, after some cajoling and totally-not-bribery from all three of Dominik’s caregivers, Dominik had been the most amped up to go, eager to finally step his anxious footing into the barrelling outside world after hiding away in the guarding of his Papi and his Daddy’s arms since Rhea’s departure to Australia. He had dragged Damian and Finn throughout their home, helping (more like rushing) them to get ready- even despite how he only had one working arm. Dominik was finally ready to leave the nest, in an odd way.

“Faster, Daddy! We got’sa go to the party!” Was hollered out from the depth of Dominik's throat more times than Finn would like to admit. But, in Finn’s defence, it is harder than the majority would think to wrangle a fully grown, six foot, toddler into the only sweatshirt that he would wear.

Not because any others were dirty. Or because of the presence of any holes in the fabric.

No- because Dominik wanted to wear his dark blue sweatshirt, the one with ‘Atlanta’ written across the chest in white lettering, and there was no other one that he wanted to wear. He had to wear that sweatshirt. And, by now in their loving dynamic, Damian and Finn knew more than fully well at this point it was better to try and help Dominik with what he wanted to achieve as long as it was within reasonable means.

After all, the whole point of Dominik’s age regression was to help him heal from what he had faced growing up; to give him a stable sense of self where he can be extremely secure in the knowledge that he does have a support system.

What damage is letting Dominik be spoiled with a sweatshirt going to do to that bond they had carefully crafted?

Then, it was having to wrestle (not literally, of course) with Dominik’s black arm sling. It wasn’t at all akin to Rhea’s injury, and he was able to remove the sling when having a bath, but the ever kind doctors had advised that Dominik to try and keep the muscle compress on for as long as humanly possible: and Rhea had been fully made aware of this development as well; so, even from across the globe, Rhea had cracked down on her parenting partners with an iron fist to ensure that this had been implemented. Of course, both Finn and Damian had consequently agreed with this revelation. Additionally, there was no way that they were going to go against Rhea’s orders.

On the hour ride over- which, they were immensely happy for, as the shorter rides means that Damian doesn’t have to worry about packing snacks for when they were on the vexatiously long motorways- they had managed to help ease Dominik away from the light fuzz that was associated with his headspace whilst he was regressed, hyping him up and encouraging Dominik to relish the social evening for what it was: to take it as a time to distract himself from the eternally gnawing sensation that had been clawing and weighing down his heart since that fateful day back in April where Rhea had kissed him goodbye whilst he hid under the comforting leather of Damian’s jacket.

But, alas, an hour into the event, Dominik’s ears were starting to ring out, all of the noise meshing together in cruel and despicable ways.

The offensive hum of the people collided with the bombarding bass of the music, and all Dominik wanted to do was return back into the crook of either of his caregivers’ arms before they would head home where Dominik wouldn’t be subjected to the horrible noises of anything else but Finn’s exceedingly engaging storytelling, and the soft lull of Damian’s singing voice dancing in his ear drums.

His brown eyes darted around the room, not intentionally ignoring Austin Theory, notwithstanding the irksome fact that Austin was dragging on a pointless conversation, remaining to talk absolute nonsense into his ears, as Dominik knows it can be considered rude to not pay his attention to his friend, but he needed to locate Damian or Finn- he needed his ear defenders, at the very least.

Typically, Dominik would have all of his sensory-related items on his person, all organised neatly (all thanks to Damian, in that regard) into the tight compartments of his black backpack, that would always be slung around his shoulder and swinging against his shoulder blade- whereas Damian would hold his age regression supplies in his own matching (literally: it was the exact same bag and brand) black backpack. That was purely to restrict any confusion between the two bags, in case Dominik needed to whip out a fidget toy, and ended up yanking out his dark blue pacifier inside its sticker-covered plastic case.

One is a much more prefered conversation to have with nyon strangers than the other.

However, tonight, the group had made the very conscious decision to keep both bags secured, locked inside of their black Range Rover in a means of trying to prevent either bag from going missing or getting left behind due to the high levels of social intensity in the event.

Finn and Damian had checked with Dominik multiple times about the decision, not wanting to shove Dominik into a situation without any easy access to his comfort items, but Dominik had given them the same tooth-bearing grin as he usually does (the one that makes both of their hearts melt at the drop of a hat), shooting them a little, “Yeah! I’m all good!”, and they were on their merry way.

They brushed their way through the security briefing, with the whole shebang of ‘no drugs, no this, no that’ with everyone having to agree that no recreational drugs will be used on their premises, even despite how they literally worked there and knew all of this, and then the reminders of where to go if there was a fire. Triple H had concluded the meeting with bustles of praise, after all, it had been a celebration of their recent successes in terms of the brand’s growth around the world in the last few months, a way of the higher ups giving their thanks and recognition to their wrestlers. A nice treat as a means to encourage this behaviour. So, it makes sense for the Big Boss, something that Dominik has heard Damian refer to him as a lot more frequently than before, to make sure everyone left the room with a positive sense of keenness for the upcoming future of their company.

The only thing Dominik had paid attention to in the briefing was the suffocating sensation in the room, staring at the sweeping amount of people that had filled the meeting room to the brim.

Even as they began to sizzle out, groups and friends making their way to all of the different rooms to the evening, Dominik’s mind kept on focusing on how utterly foreboding it all felt; the awfully paralysing size of the people in each room painting Dominik with increasing layers of agony as he continued to survey the area.

There were bustles of them, incredulous amounts of many crowds of loud people surrounded them, laughing, talking, flirting- the whole seemingly-desirable package of general socialisation that was expected when it came to their company meetings.

Party? Meeting? Neither caregiver, JD, nor Dominik had really the foresight to pinpoint which this event was categorised as: the email hadn’t been all that clear. Sure, there wasn’t as much alcohol as a party, but there was no way it was a proper ‘meeting’, less there wouldn’t be such a heavy emphasis on all of the wrestlers from across all of the shows being able to socialise with each other.

Dominik knew that Damian was most likely to go and congregate along with the other champions, which he was more than fine with, and he had seen Finn and JD leave the meeting room with an unfamiliar woman, but Dominik mustered up the courage to try and be big, to try and talk with everyone else.

“I mean, who does that? Like-“ Austin continues, and Dominik knows that he’s merely just attempting to formulate a conversation with one of his longest friends since he ever joined the company itself, but he doesn’t want to talk anymore.

He wants his muffling sound defenders: the sticker-covered pair that he had decorated with his Mami back when she was still with them, and she wanted to do some activities with her little boy before they would head on their way together to one of her doctor appointments for her shoulder injury.

He wants to hide away from the world once more: to shove his head into his weighted blankets and feel the weight of the world transfer from him to the beads inside the grey and fluffy blanket.

He wants his Daddy and his Papi: he wants to pull them into the tightest cuddle that Dominik could ever be capable of mustering up the strength to enact upon, just so that he didn’t have to deal with none of the abrasive lighting of the rooms across the floor which the social gathering was taking place upon as his Papi would tower over any light coming through, and his Daddy’s hand would distract Dominik, toying with his dark brown locks of luscious hair that was still growing out strongly, his long and calloused hands working their ways in a rhythmic and familiar manner.

Maybe, just maybe, Dominik wasn’t all that prepared to go out and socialise as much as he originally thought. The promise of some of Damian’s specialised chocolate mousse that he crafts for Dominik at home be damned.

The haziness that often accompanies his headspace makes itself known, knocking at the doors of his mind with pastel hues and reminders that he’s clearly much too little or small to be in such a grown-up, matured, space like the one he was in. Dominik doesn’t particularly know where the heavy emotions had come from, nor can he exactly pinpoint when they had begun to swim in his mind, chucking any coherent, adult, thoughts out from his conscious mindspace with a beckoning urge to scream, cry out for his caregivers so that they could pluck him up from the agonisingly sticky leather sofa where people were ingesting ludicrous amounts of alcohol (he swears Triple H had put a limit on how much everyone could drink) and engaging in with prattling conversations and take him back home.

Dominik sucks in a breath of tension, holding it staunchly in the jaws of his mouth so as to prevent alerting Theory, or any of the other people on the sofa they were sitting together on, that something was starting to off-hilter his mind. The doe brown of his eyes look back at Austin, sending a swift smile (though, a thought rushes to his mind that his Mami would have pointed out that it was a ‘bread smile’- whatever that meant, it always went over Dominik’s head, so he never gave much actual thought to it) as a makeshift way of giving Theory the illusion that Dominik was still listening to what he was saying, before they go back to surveying the room.

He doesn’t see Damian.

And Dominik definitely cannot see Finn, nor does JD McDonagh breach his cautious eyeline.

But, there is one person that he sees. Sure, the guy himself is probably one of the loudest in the room, maybe one of the loudest people in the whole company, but Dominik had grown comfortable with the dude, even more so since he had practically saved him during the Royal Rumble- even though the reasoning behind his help was a bit out of pocket.

R-Truth was across the room, talking in that gravel-soaked voice that always made a regressed Dominik feel ever-so giggly. It appears as though Truth was the only person in the room who was actually aware of his regression, and Dominik doesn’t really have to second guess nor does he have the ability to dismiss that vague idea.

Dominik silently, fondly, curses Rhea, Finn and Damian for being territorial when it comes to him, not allowing any unwanted eyes to peek through their family curtains, and guarding Dominik with what might as well have been diamond swords. Maybe if they weren’t so restrictive, he could have the capabilities to find someone else, and not be forced to interrupt R-Truth’s conversation with some of the older wrestlers, who would have all known Dominik since he was actually as old as he feels, if not a little bit older.

Though, Dominik knows that their protection and restrictive behaviour is all in good faith to cage him from those who are able to cause any sort of disruption to him.

The Miz was there,obviously, and he’d seen Dominik back when he was still just a preteen. It was evident that he was by R-Truth’s side because he had assigned himself R-Truth’s caretaker, something that Dominik found funny to no end, but it also looks as though they were talking to Triple H himself, and that man has known him since Dominik could really remember when he had started to accompany his father to the shows.

“Sorry, Austin, but I wanna go speak to Triple H about something- y’know, before he slips off to go boast to whoever will listen to him again.” Dominik makes a measly attempt at a joke, but it appears to work as Austin chuckles a little, slapping his hand on Dominik’s shoulders in a clumsy, obviously intoxicated, manner.

“You go do you, big man. Good luck!” Austin cheers, pointing his drink in Dominik’s general vicinity, the cliche red cup in his hands causing Dominik to giggle a little about how Austin was the picture perfect example of an American party-goer.

The heavenly giggle still lays upon the pink of his lips just as Dominik waves his goodbye to Austin, “Thank you, Theory! I’ll see you later!” Dominik calls out, although, if things went his way, then there’s a very little chance that Theory will actually see Dominik again for the rest of the evening.

He walks the five seconds over to where R-Truth, Triple H and the Miz are in what is definitely exceeding five seconds, trying his best not to anger a colleague or two as he has to swim his way through the sea of people, having to keep in mind that shoving was rude, and that if his Papi or Daddy were to see him shove someone, without their direct guidance or direction, then they will surely be upset with the lack of manners, reminding him that his Mami always preaches about how we have to be kind to others, and they will be nicer to us in the return.

Funnily enough, the Miz caught Dominik heading their way first, and he more than welcomes the distraction- there’s a sense of fond annoyedness that Dominik sees in his Papi’s dark brown eyes whenever he’s up to mischief, and relief begins to collide with the anxiety that he was feeling only a few seconds ago.

“Wassup, little dude!” Before the Miz even gets a chance to welcome Dominik with grateful arms into the conversation, R-Truth beckons out a typical greeting, and the nickname makes Dominik want to bounce on his feet in delight; he’s not as graceful in stopping the behaviour, but he manages to reign it in.

R-Truth brings in Dominik for a ‘hug’: it was not so much as a hug but a way for R-Truth to have an excuse to pick up Dominik, his cherished and white Jordans dangling from the height that the older wrestler has managed to bring him up to, and swing him from side to side.

If Dominik wasn’t feeling the haze and the sensations of bewilderment of his headspace before R-Truth had made him feel about as heavy as a feather, he definitely was now. The fact that all three of them towered over him didn’t exactly help that much either- all it did was remind Dominik that he was evidently too small to be in such a setting, much too little, and that he needed to find his Daddy and his Papi to aid him in whisking all of the negativity and lugubriosity of the world.

“Hey, big dude!” Dominik says with a shabby, cheerful tone, repeating their nicknames for each other that had been coined during their time together whilst Truth was terrorising their family during the Monday Night Raw segments.

Although, behind the scenes was a whole different scene: Damian and R-Truth got along more than Dominik had ever seen his Papi bond with someone else, and it made the younger Latino happy to witness his Papi, his Damian, to finally get comfortable to relax around other people. And, of course, a regressed Dominik absolutely adored the older man: R-Truth would always pick him up and swing him around; he would crouch down and bend when speaking to Dominik when he was feeling small, which, of course, would only push Dominik deeper into his regression.

R-Truth was the best- no questions asked, no doubt riddled.

The Miz and Triple H join in with welcoming and greeting their younger colleague, but R-Truth, as he typically does, pounces back into the conversation- “What brings you over here, Dom Dom? What can I do for you?” Truth’s smile is truly infectious, and Dominik feels his lips replicating the joyous feeling that R-Truth was spreading as he tries to think of an answer.

He opens and closes his mouth for a second or so, fumbling around for a response- although, yet again, Dominik is interrupted by R-Turth’s hoarse voice ringing through their social circle, his eyes scanning around Dominik momentarily before looking in different areas of the room they were in, “Where’s the big dog?” R-Truth questions, hints of concern beginning to trail in his tone, increasing in prowess as Dominik shrugs his shoulders, a neat and non-verbal way of letting Truth know that Dominik was not aware of Damian’s location, “What about that grumpy old man Finn?” R-Truth tries again, and upon Dominik repeating his earlier actions, the older man sighs in a dramatic, hyperbolised manner, “Not even that alien looking dude?”

Dominik giggles a smidge at the insult aimed towards JD, and R-Truth’s dark brown eyes bulge open as he realises that Dominik had clearly come to him because of the fact that everyone else was off, leaving Dominik behind in a space that, judging by the way he was bouncing on his heels subtly, now that Truth actually gets a chance to analyse it, “No idea, dog. I was hoping that you’d seen them, actually.”

“Oh snap…y’know what, Mizer-”

“Miz.”

“And Mister H-Man-”

“I’ll take that.”

“Were starting to bore me- all this talk about the championships. You get it, don’t you, little champ? You guys should see how much he takes after Dame.” R-Truth comments, large hands gesturing at Dominik’s outfit, pointing at the matching silver chains (the really cool ones that Damian had gotten him even before he knew of Dominik’s regression, with Dominik having the smaller cross whilst Damian had the bigger one) that he and Damian would always wear together.

Heat rushed to Dominik’s cheeks, flushing his face a paintable shade of pink that highlights the browns of his doe eyes, and he can’t really tell if it’s because of the heat from all of the people, or because R-Truth has just successfully managed to make Triple H chuckle a hint about how much Dominik has been taken after the older Latino man in the last few months.

“So…you don’t mind tagging along?” Dominik asks, a juvenile sense of hope riddled in his voice that R-Truth notices as well- he may not be as well-versed or knowledgable on Dominik whilst in his regressed headspace compared to his three other caregivers, but R-Truth can tell that he was definitely dealing with a smaller version of one of his favourite colleagues.

“Nah- of course not! Farewell, Mister H. Mizer, I’ll catch you later. For now, returning the lost boy to his family!” R-Truth calls out, and Dominik’s just grateful that everyone is so familiar with Truth's shenanigans that no one, absolutely no one, even bats an eyelid in their pathway as R-Truth wraps his large and toned left arm around Dominik’s figure, bringing the regressed boy closer in to his chest so as to shield him from everyone else around them.

R-Truth walks Dominik and himself along the edge of the room, with his own right arm brushing against the wall every so often as he committedly guides Dominik out of the area, doing all he can to be as fast as he could whilst also making sure to treat the Judgement Day’s youngest member with great care as they pushed their way out and into the hallway; a significantly smaller amount of people were loitering in between the three or four rooms that they had been designated to socialise that evening, the only person of note being someone from NXT taking a phone call.

In a husky and hushed tone, R-Truth whispers something of concern into Dominik’s ear.

“Where’s your bag at, kid? That little black one that you and your Papi have.”

Dominik smiles a tad at the implication that someone else outside of his makeshift family actually cares about him that much to notice such intricate details, his voice matching how quiet Truth’s was, a drip of an attitude of a sombre kind evident in his articulation, “In the car- both of ‘em.”

“That’s fine, Dom Dom. I bet your old man has the keys, so why don’t we go find him? A R-Truth and Dominik adventure.” Truth ruffles the brown hair on Dominik’s head as he smoothes out his voice, recalling how the boy’s Mami had informed him one day a few months ago that it was best to distract Dominik with smaller, attainable goals if he was visibly upset or distraught at something and his caregivers were not in the immediate vicinity to even notice Dominik’s shift in mood.

The pair of them remain out in the hallway, utilising the floor-to-ceiling glass panels to save them both the stress of searching each individual hang out spot for Damian’s whereabouts

“He was wearing one of his baseball jerseys, wasn’t he?” Truth prods, trying to aid Dominik in looking for his Papi, who, in retrospect, due to his grand height alone, really shouldn’t be that hard to spot, both R-Truth and Dominik grateful for the fact that it would take significantly less time. Dominik’s head rested onto R-Truth’s shoulder, happy to let his head relax in the older man’s neck whilst they surveyed the room in silence.

Although, as Dominik had grown to be more than fond of in the last few months, R-Truth and silence is a combination that never works cohesively past five seconds.

“What’s the plan when we find your Damian then, little man? Just want to grab your special headphones?” R-Truth enquiries, his eyes squinting as he continues to survey the room, looking for people who appeared to be around Damian’s height as a first clue.

“Don’ know, Truth. I wan’ go home, but I know D…Dame an’ Finn are having fun- I don’ want to make them say bye’s to everyone.” Dominik shrugged his shoulders, the ghost of a pout beginning to strengthen, coming to fruition by the second as he heard R-Truth sigh in a tender and doting manner as Dominik continued, “It’s all so loud and… ugh. So much goin’ on.”

“Kiddo, they won’t mind. They know what they are doing, okay? You don’t ever need to worry about your Damian and Finn- they will absolutely understand if you need to go home. They are your caregivers, and, most importantly, your family. It would be rather silly of them if they didn’t let you go home.” R-Truth does his best to console the growingly anxious Dominik, his eyes catching how Dominik’s feet were shuffling against his own trainers once more. The thumb on R-Truth's left hand, the arm he had been clutching Dominik to his side with, rubbed up and down Dominik’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Dominik’s arm raised upwards and pointed at where he could see his Papi, along with Cody and Bayley (so, Dominik’s estimation was correct about his Damian going to see the other champions) congregating by the snack and drinks table, noticing Damian’s hands being bare of a beverage, which means Dominik obviously has to turn to face Truth as he began to jump on his tip-toes slightly, already starting to feel a bit more happy, “Look, tío!” Dominik says, an adorably awkward merge of a whisper and a yell coming out from his lips.

The sight of Damian makes Dominik teeter more deeper into his headspace, not to mention the deep chuckle from R-Truth upon hearing the term of endearment fall eagerly from childishly rosy-coloured lips.

Sensing a set of light brown eyes- his boy’s light brown eyes, no less- Damian’s own dark brown irises glance up from where they had been focused on Cody Rhodes, and his eyebrows soften, his eyes beginning to crinkle as love swarms his heart upon seeing Dominik switch on his heels to face his friend, R-Truth, a toothy grin on his face and mouthing words that Damian can easily tell, even from the distance alone, is something along the lines of, “Dame!”, as Dominik’s lips hold on the ‘m’ sound for longer than he would with any other word.

The older Peutro-Rican man is snapped out of his love-filled trance upon hearing Bayley let out a joking taunt, “Oh!” She teases, dragging out the vowel for as long as humanly possible, and when Cody catches on to the fact that Domnik is standing outside of the room, his left hand waving big and wide with a teeth-baring smile that could not more obviously be painted on for Damian to see, he cheerfully waves back at the younger boy whilst Bayley continues talking, “I was wondering where Dominik was- he trails right behind you these days; it is honestly so sweet how you care for him like that. How’s he been with the whole Rhea leaving thing?”

Damian expresses his gratitude for her thoughtfulness and compassionate words with a short simper, “He’s been doing better than we thought he would originally; I’m so proud of how he’s been handling it, you have no idea.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

Cody repeats himself, this time his hand touching Damian’s shoulder in a friendly and genial approach, “Have you been taking it since Rhea left to go back home? I can only imagine how hard it is for you- you two are literally brother and sister at this point.”

Damian chuckles at the implication, but also finds himself grinning once more at the fact that Cody seems to genuinely care about how he has also been feeling, “Well, I’ve been better, you feel me? It looks like Dominik’s getting all antsy about something, so I’m going have to leave this conversation here. It was genuinely so nice to have this catch up. Hopefully, we get to have another party soon.” Damian swiftly shakes each of their hands, both of his fellow WWE Champions saying similar compliments and niceties to send Damian off with.

Although, Cody does whisper something of note into Damian’s ear, and the way it was said so rushed and yet so cheekily leaves Damian walking away from the conversation with another set of his typical deep and rumbling chuckles, “When parenting calls, you always got to respond.”

Meanwhile, Dominik had been talking his way to R-Truth, the older wrestler always being happy to engage with the little one’s talks and eager questions about how the world works whilst they waited for Damian to leave the room.

“Tío?” Dominik signals, eyes still casted to where Damian was walking through the room t get to Dominik, a hint of concern beginning to riddle his chiselled features, looking up at R-Truth with a world of childish wonder painted in his eyes that R-Truth can’t help but admire.

Specifically, the nickname never fails to make R-Truth feel as though he’s truly being admired and appreciated by the little boy.

“Yeah? What’re you thinking about, Dom Dom?” Truth probes in a soft voice, curious about what Dominik was about to say, one of his eyebrows raising in curiosity, and also partly to make Dominik feel better about his beloved Papi taking so long to leave the room and bid his colleagues a good day - or, at least, something along those lines.

“Why’s the Sun follow me when…when I’s in the car?” Dominik asks, his voice just a tad bit timid from how he was slightly embarrassed to ask the question so loud in the hallway that his Papi would hear the ‘silliness’ as he gets closer to the glass door that opens up to where R-Truth and Dominik were waiting idly together.

“I think you might have to ask your old man about that, kiddo. I don’t really know myself.” R-Truth shrugs his shoulders, and Dominik’s eyes cast to the floor, a look of juvenile determination beginning to paint his round features.

“Eso es tonto…” Dominik mumbles under his breath, eyebrows furrowed and evidently not impressed with Truth’s response to his question.

“Say that again please, mi chiquitin. I couldn’t quite hear you over all the music that’s playing.” Damian requests in a nonchalant tone, and Dominik breaches the three steps in front of him and dives his body right into the comfort and familiar sense of home that Damian’s chest effortlessly provides, wrapping his arms tightly around Damian’s waist, his nimble fingers pulling at the hem of his Papi’s shirt as Dominik finally has a chance to collect his thoughts and focus on something else that isn’t how loud the music is, or how sticky his nice trousers felt from the sofa he was just sitting on with Theory.

“Papi.” Dominik breathes out into the fabric of Damian’s patterned shirt, delighted at the relief that Damian’s presence immediately provided.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’ve got you, Dom.” Damian reciprocates the hug in a moment of instinct. Damian’s dark brown eyes cast upwards from where he had been possesively staring down at Dominik, a paternal smile donning his lips, looking up at Truth, jumping straight to the point instead of dancing around the issue that was currently in Damian’s arms and dampening his shirt, “What happened, Truth? Anyone hurt him?” Damian probes, protective instincts surging any normal state of mind that he was in.

“No- he’s all good, big dog. Just felt a bit clogged up, if you get my gist.” R-Truth explains with an over-dramatised whisper, and Dominik lets out a wet giggle into the fabric of Damian’s white and blue striped jersey at how silly the older man seemed to lean into his Papi’s ear,looming over Dominik as though Dominik was no more than a foot or so tall, the two giants towering over him with Dominik beneath.

“Alright. Well, thanks for bringing him over to me.” Damian ’s voice is thick with gratitude, and R-Truth takes that as his cue to leave Dominik and Damian, on his way back to torment the Miz once more.

Damian’s dark brown eyes begin to pool with concern as he feels a small wet spot form on the shoulder of his jersey; his calloused, yet always able to grace Dominik’s sensitive skin with softness and doting drops of love, hands gently pry Dominik’s face away from his shirt and in front of his own face.

Damian decides to switch the language of their now-private conversation into Spanish, just so that any nosy ears couldn’t really understand what they were saying, “Qué voy a hacer contigo, mmm? Qué pasó, mi pequeño cachorro?” Damian dotes with a fond sigh, and Dominik’s feet begin to twist out of a stabbing sensation of anxiety as the older Puetro-Rican male’s concerns aimed towards the shabby state of his (only his, and Rhea’s, if their suspicions about JD, and even possibly Finn were true in the slightest of ways) little boy.

God, he really didn’t want it to be true. Not after what happened with Liv Morgan a week or so prior; it had taken ages of Finn wheedling his way back in, and even Damian had began to soften, but Rhea was stone cold and stubborn. No one she didn’t want, no one she did not trust, or respect, would be around her boy.

He was hers, first and foremost.

Damian begins to walk him across the hallway and to the elevator, knowing how shakey Dominik’s legs could be when he begins to regress into his smaller, more innocent, headspace.

“What happened, Dominik?” Damian asks, his tone leaving no room for Dominik to dismiss or ignore the question- concerned, for the lack of a better word, was how Dominik would describe Damian’s voice.

“It started when…when I couldn’t see you or Finn. It was all super loud, like in the stupid way-”

Damian lets out a chuckle at the way his little boy, who still had his regressed headspace swimming at the surface of his mind, manages to retell the account of his feelings: the level of his metric; the pacing of his words, and how it coincides with the rhythm of his foot swaying against the metal of the elevator floor.

“What’s so funny, Papi?” Dominik asks with an accusatory tone, obviously unbeknownst as to what exactly his older friend and parental figure had found amusing.