ShadeGarden

The Storm shows were always important for the entire Lightning roster. They were the developmental equivalent of the main roster pay-per-views. It was where blow-offs for story-lines happened. It was where new story-lines started. It was usually where, if you were lucky, you usually put someone over on the way out.

Shane stretched a bit. “Have they told you how your debut is gonna go yet?”

Ilya nodded, already starting to check his phone. “They have said I am interfering in main event in someway. Specifics will be ironed out when we get to arena.”

Shane nodded, looking over at Ilya. “So you’re gonna be the reason Troy retains his title?”

Ilya looked a bit confused. He got up off the bed, to start gathering up his clothes. “How do you know Barrett is keeping belt?” He asked. He knew he should probably finally shower, since he hadn’t the night before.

Shane smiled, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “He was originally supposed face Wyatt, but since he’s out with a torn ACL, they asked if I could fill in, since Troy is retaining anyway.” He could only describe the gleeful little smile that was on Ilya’s face as concerning. “Why do you look so fucking giddy about that, Rozanov?”

Ilya came to a stop in the doorway to the bathroom. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Because Hollander,” he told him, licking his lips. “That means I might get chance to put you through table.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Why are you so insistent on wanting to put me through a fucking table?” He asked.

“Because of how much you do not want me to put you through table.” Ilya answered simply. “Do you need anything before I shower, Hollander?”

Shane shook his head, as he started to finally get out of bed as well. He was careful to make the bed as he got up. “Do you have any food allergies?”

“No. Why the fuck are you asking me that?” Ilya called out, as he was already turning on the water so he could shower.

“Because I was gonna make us breakfast, and I don’t wanna be the asshole who throws off the entire card for tonight cause I caused you to go into anaphylaxis over eggs and a smoothie,” Shane told him honestly, as he put on his shirt from the night before.

He headed to the kitchen to get started on breakfast for the two of them. He was making the same thing he always made. His egg whites, spinach, toast, and smoothie. The only thing that changed was that he was making enough for two.

Ilya was quick in the shower. He reached for a towel, and started to dry himself off. He quickly realized that his bag, that had all of his clothes in it, was still by the front door, where he’d left his and Shane’s things the night before.

Shane looked up from the stove when he heard footsteps, only to be greeted with the sight of Ilya still dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. “Rozanov, why are you still naked?”

Ilya made his way over, digging through his bag for his clothes. “Because I forgot to grab my stuff from my bag,” he started to explain. “Besides Hollander, you get new excuse to get to stare at my tattoos.” He teased, as he dropped the towel and started to get dressed in the middle of the living room.

Shane suddenly felt his throat go a bit dry. He knew that it was going to be hard to focus on his cooking till Ilya was at least partially clothed. “Figured I’d make us breakfast before I shower.”

“Mh, let me cum on your face and you make me food? What did I do to get this lucky, Hollander?” Ilya teased, as he was finally sliding a clean t shirt over his head. “Anything that I can do to help?”

“Put the frozen strawberries in the blender, and never tell our coworkers that we are about to get on a three hour flight with the first half of that statement,” Shane told him as he rolled his eyes.

Ilya nodded, and finally joined Shane in the kitchen. “I can do that.” He assured. “But I do not know why is big deal that people know we hooked up. Is not a big deal. Happens all the time in the business. For fuck’s sake, I live with fuck buddy in Boston, and she is current women’s champion on main roster.” He said casually.

He didn’t understand what the deal was. Plenty of people in the wrestling business fucked other wrestlers. Honestly, Ilya didn’t get why this was any different. That was, until he saw the look in Shane’s eyes that could only be described as pure fear. “Oh, I am guessing you are not out, Hollander?”

Shane nodded. The rest of his body was stone still. He had never even admitted it to himself, much less anyone else. “No,” he whispered. “No. I’m not and the thought of doing it scares the shit out of me.”

Ilya’s fingers hovered over the button to turn on the blender. He stopped what he was doing, to step closer to Shane. His hand moved to grip Shane’s hip. “Breathe Hollander,” He told him softly, and waited till he heard Shane get at least a few in and out before continuing. “Relax. I would not dream of outing you. I know I am heel, but I am not asshole.” He assured him softly.

Shane nodded. Between the way Ilya’s hand had already found its way from his hip, to be splayed out against his stomach. “Thanks, Ilya.” He murmured. It was the first time that he could think of that he had called him something besides Rozanov.

Ilya noticed it just as much as Shane did. He rested his head on Shane’s shoulder. “No problem, Shane.” He murmured, putting emphasis on using his first name as well. “Did not know we were on first name basis outside of ring now.”

Shane laughed at his attempt to break the air of tension that was left in the room. “Y’know, pretty sure touching each other’s dicks will put you on a first name basis with a guy.” He teased.

That at least got a laugh out of Ilya. “Good point. Good point.” He murmured happily, as he finished putting the frozen fruit into the blender.

Shane smiled, and added his various supplements in as well. “Can you get the toast started?” He asked.

Ilya nodded, and headed over to the toaster, putting two slices of Shane’s weird wholegrain bread that was covered in seeds in the toaster. “So, are you excited to be on card for Storm for once, Hollander?” He asked, with a teasing edge to his words. He knew damn well that this wasn’t Shane’s first time being on the card, but if Ilya had learned nothing else in the past 24 hours, it was incredibly fun to get a rise out of Shane Hollander.

Shane let out a little huff, as he was pouring the almond milk in the blender. “Fuck you. I’ve been on Storm,” he insisted. “It’s my first big singles match on one sure, but I have been on the card.”

Ilya nodded, taking a sip of his glass of water. “Mh, yes battle royal and random tag matches. Crazy.” He murmured.

Shane rolled his. “More tv matches than you’ve had, Rozanov.” He pointed out, before turning on the blender.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sat on the stools at Shane’s kitchen counter, eating their breakfast, and talking about the upcoming show. It was a quiet almost domesticity that neither of them had really expected from a hookup.

Once the dishes were done, and Shane had showered, it was time for the two of them to be getting in the car to head to the airport. Ilya couldn’t help his grin. “Do you mind if I put on music Hollander?” He asked, not wanting to have any level of awkward silence in the car.

Shane nodded. “Go ahead,” he told him with a smile. He usually just listened to podcasts in the car, but he figured he could save them for the flight instead of reading his book he’d brought with him.

Ilya smiled and got his phone connected to the SUV, so he could play the usual playlist that he had on when he was on the road for indie shows. It got him hyped up for matches.

Whatever Shane was expecting, it was not the opening of Britney Spears’ Hit Me Baby One More absolutely blaring through the car at full volume. He reached over to turn the music down a bit. “This has gotta be a fucking bit, right? This is what you listen to?”

Ilya laughed a bit. “What? Is my hype up playlist, Hollander.” He teased with a grin. “Do not tell me you do not have playlist that hypes you up before a match.”

Shane shrugged a bit. “I do, but it’s not like…Look, that is just not what I was expecting music wise from the guy who is notorious for blood in every match and wanting to put me through a fucking table.”

All Ilya could really do was shrug. “I am multi-faceted man, Hollander.”

As he continued to drive them to the airport, Shane found himself actually starting to enjoy Ilya’s music, even humming along to the few and far between songs that he recognized.

He parked at the airport right as they were arriving. Ilya had an exaggerated pout on his face. “You could have at least let me finish the Bad Bunny song, Hollander. We have time. We are not going to miss flight to Tampa.”

Shane rolled his eyes, as he was getting both of their bags out of the back of the SUV. “Do you even understand any Spanish Rozanov?” He countered.

“Is not about understanding it, Hollander! Is about the vibes,” Ilya insisted, as he took his own bag from Shane.

Shane rolled his eyes and adjusted his sunglasses. “Whatever you say Rozanov.”

Once the two of them were waiting at the gate to board their flight to Tampa, with several of their coworkers, who were also flying to Tampa for Lightning Storm. The two of them had just gotten seated at the gate, and Shane had just gotten out his book to read a for a bit, when Ilya was already getting up, with a simple, “Be right back, Hollander.”

Shane gave him a small nod, assuming that he was heading to the bathroom or something. “Alright. I’ll watch your bag.” He assured.

Ilya nodded, and got up, to seemingly wander off on his little quest that he’d given himself.

Shane looked up from his book again when he heard Ilya sit back down. He was admittedly, a bit confused by the sight of the McDonald’s cup and bag of food that he was carrying. “How are you already hungry? We ate breakfast before we left my apartment.”

Ilya nodded, as he was taking a sip of his coke. “I know,” he told Shane simply. “But going and getting McGriddle sounded good,” he explained. “I got you hash brown.”

Shane shook his head. “Sweet, but no thank you. I’m on a diet.”

Ilya shrugged. “More fried deliciousness for me,” he said simply, as he went right back to eating his food.

Shane happily got back to reading his book. It was another 45 minuets before their flight. “I’m gonna go get some coffee real quick. Will you watch my bag?” He asked.

Ilya nodded with a smile. “Of course, Hollander, he assured, keeping an eye on Shane’s things.

Shane was thankful that there wasn’t a line at the airport Starbucks, so he could get his usual iced coffee with almond milk, and two pumps of caramel syrup. It was the only sweetness that he really allowed himself in his coffee.

He made his way back carrying his coffee. He smiled a bit, glad that Ilya was watching his stuff.

Ilya smiled a bit, looking over at him. “I decided to glance at your book. Did not take you for romance novel type, Hollander,” he teased.

Shane’s face flushed. “Shut up…” He insisted, as he led his book back into his carry-on bag. He hated knowing that Ilya knew just what he had been sitting there reading. “I don’t get how what I was reading is anything. you need to be concerned about.” He insisted.

“Because you were sitting there, reading a book that is basically porn when sitting next to coworkers,” Ilya answered, shaking his head. “Is cute that you think no one else would notice.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “It is not basically porn and for the love of God keep your voice down,” he muttered through grit teeth.

Ilya couldn't help his laughing. He loved making Shane blush like that. It was quickly becoming his favorite thing to do that wasn’t in the ring. “Relax Hollander. No one heard me.”

Harris, who was the current head of social media for the majority of the company, and was currently sat across from the two of them, laughed a bit, “Oh I definitely heard that.”

Shane shot him a glare. “Why the hell are you even coming to Tampa, Drover? Thought you usually stuck to the main roster.”

Harris shrugged a bit. “I always get stuff from any Lightning Storm,” he explained. “Besides, not every show we have the in ring debut of royalty.”

Shane for a moment looked incredibly confused look. He only knew of one debut that was happening.

Ilya was just smirking. “Oh so they are letting me be death match prince after all? I was worried I would not get to use my coolest nickname.”He murmured. “Who is this, Hollander?” He asked, looking between Shane and Harris.

Harris spoke before Shane could. “I handle a good chunk of AWW’s official social media accounts,” he explained. “Week to week stuff for Lightning is usually handled by an intern, but I come to any of the Storms for capturing the big stuff.”

Ilya nodded. “Like my debut.”

Harris smiled. “Exactly. And getting to see my boyfriend beat the shit out of Hollzy here.”

“You say that like it won’t still be a good match,” Shane countered. “Besides, it’s my first title match.”

Ilya chuckled. “Maybe you will actually get to win the second one then.”

All that got him was an eye roll from Shane, as they started boarding for the flight from Long Island to Tampa.

The second they were getting into a rental car together in Tampa, Ilya insisted on being the one behind the wheel, since he insisted Shane drove “drove like a cautious tortoise”.

Shane had to turn down the yet again, aggressively loud club music to take a phone call.

Ilya couldn’t help his glare, but did the polite thing and paused the song. “Who is it?”

Shane’s answer came in the form of him putting it on speaker. “Scott, hey, what’s up?” He was always happy to talk to Scott Hunter, especially before the, what to this point, was the biggest match of his career.

Scott’s voice came through the phone clear as day. “You amped up for your match tonight, Rook?”

Ilya laughed a bit. “Should be more excited for end of match.”

Hearing that familiar accent had Scott a bit nervous. “Shane, who is that that’s riding with you?” He asked cautiously.

“Rozanov, why?” Shane asked.

Scott’s answer was somewhat sharp. “Shane, take me off speaker.”

Shane looked a bit confused, but still complied. He took the call off speaker, and held his phone to his ear. “Dude, don’t worry. I’m not letting him talk me into like, table spots or anything.” He assured jokingly.

“Yeah, but you’re clearly not giving a shit about kayfabe either,” Scott countered. “You realize the two of you are gonna be booked into a feud after tonight, right?”

Shane looked confused. “I…no. I didn’t know that. How could I have possibly known that?”

“Because it’s basic fucking storytelling, Hollander. He’s gonna cost you the title.” Scott explained.

Shane still wasn’t quite sure what it was that Scott was getting at. “What does that have to do with me being in the car with him right now?”

Scott’s frustration at Shane’s lack of understanding was clear in his tone. “Because Hollander, that means you’re gonna be riding back to the hotel with him. Which fans might see you two, who just beat the shit out of each other getting into the same car to leave the arena.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Jesus, fucking fine. I’ll ride back to the hotel with Harris or something.”

“Nope. Can’t ride with Harris either. Cause he’s riding with Troy,” Scott pointed out, “You know, the guy who you just beat.”

“Beat him by disqualification,” Shane pointed out.

Scott was clearly starting to get annoyed with Shane. “Still a fucking loss, Rook.”

Shane ran his hand through his hair. “Alright. Alright. You made your point. I will find someone else to ride back to the hotel with.”

Scott let out a sigh. “Good, cause I know I taught you better than to disrespect kayfabe like that, Hollander.” He admitted, before joking. “I swear, I think Rozanov is rubbing off on you, Rook. He’s a bad influence.”

Ilya overheard the snide remark, so he decided to speak up to his own defense. “Is not the 80’s anymore, you old fuck. Heels and faces can be friends outside of ring.”

Shane’s grip on his phone tightened. He shot Ilya a glare. “Alright well, Mr. Hunter. I am gonna let you go, before Rozanov decides to stick his foot any farther in his own mouth.” He quickly hung up, before he looked over at Ilya. “That was not necessary.”

Ilya nodded. “I think it was, but okay.”

Shane couldn’t help his befuddled look. “In what way was calling legend of the business Scott Hunter an old fuck necessary?” He asked.

“Because he was talking like an old fuck with mindset of the territory days,” Ilya said simply, “But I know you are too much of good boy to say that.”

Something about his answer only confused Shane even more. “You moved here from Russia when you were like, 12. How the fuck do you know about the territory days?”

Ilya shrugged a bit. “Marly would teach me about wrestling history when I would ride with him to bookings,” he answered simply.

Shane nodded. He hadn’t expected Ilya to know about that sort of thing. From what Scott had taught him about the scene Ilya had come from, it was all flash, no substance with no real respect for the business.

That wasn’t what Shane saw when he watched clips of Ilya’s matches. All he saw was someone who saw wrestling as a very dangerous form of theater.

He looked over at Ilya, who was clearly focused on following the GPS line to the arena. “Maybe if you’re good, and Troy is up for it, I’ll let you put me through a table tonight.”

Ilya had his seat on the opposite of the hard cam side, so he wouldn’t be noticed by the fans until the production truck wanted him to be noticed. He could just sit there happily, sipping his coke, with a member of production on one side of him, and a member of security on the other. Until the main event, he could just sit there and enjoy wrestling.

He had to hyper focus as soon as he heard the ring announcer, Rose start her little script.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s now time for your Main Event. Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 215 pounds, from Vancouver British Columbia, your reigning and defending Lightning Champion, Troy Barrett.”

Troy’s music hit. He made his way to the ring, carrying his belt in hand. He knew how tonight was going to go. Screwy finish, but he was leaving with the belt, so that was all that he really cared about. It was a bit of a surprise to be sharing the ring with Shane, but he was booking’s idea, since Hayes was out with an injury. He’d never been in the ring with him before, but he figured anyone trained by Scott Hunter was at least gonna be decent.

Rose continued her script once Troy was in the ring, and his belt was handed off to someone at ringside. “And his opponent, making his way to the ring, weighing in at 201 pounds, Ottawa’s Shane Hollander.”

Shane was hopeful his nerves weren’t obvious on his face as he made his way through the curtain. This was the biggest match of his career. The run through of the major spots that the three of them had done before this had somewhat soothed Shane’s anxieties, but now that he was actually making his way down the ramp, and climbing in the ring, it was a whole different story.

He outstretched his hand for Troy to shake. Thankfully, unlike his dark match with Ilya, Troy shook his hand. Good, at least he was following something that Scott had taught him.

The match was going good, at least from where Ilya was sat. He was watching the spots like a hawk. His Que to go over the barricade and get involved in the match was when Troy kicked out of Shane’s pin attempt. He smirked, when he saw Shane going for the roll up. Of course, just as planned, Troy kicked out at the two. That was when the guy from production was nudging Ilya’s shoulder. “That’s you signal Rozanov.”

Ilya sat his now empty cup, and made his way over the barricade. The commentary team was freaking out, about how the death match prince was deciding to make his own chaos. He was throwing forearms without remorse. When he had Shane against the corner of the ring, he spoke, just loud enough for Shane to hear him. “You are ready for table spot, yes Hollander?”

Shane nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The precut table was already set up outside the ring. All it would take was Shane getting thrown onto it for it to break.

The backdrop went flawlessly. Shane went crashing through the table flat on his back. He’d been told before this match how important selling the spot was. Selling the spot wasn’t the issue. Shane was in enough pain that he didn’t need to worry about how well he was selling.

He was slow to get up off the floor. He now understood why it was that Scott had warned him about the pain of taking a table spot.

Rose had made her way back into the ring. She mouthed to Shane, a quick “You good?”

She waited till he gave the small thumbs up, and the referee was raising Shane’s hand. “And your winner via disqualification, Shane Hollander. However, still your Lightning Men’s Champion, Troy Barrett.”

Ilya was stood in the ring, grinning like a mad man. He was the reason Shane was announced as the winner, but wasn’t getting to carry out that stupid tacky black, gold and blue belt.

They were making their way up the ramp. Ilya didn’t speak to Shane till they were firmly in the back. “So, Scott Hunter had to be old and boring and say we could not ride back to hotel together, yes?”

Shane nodded. “Unfortunately. So I am gonna go get my bag out of the rental car, since Rose said I could ride with her….” He murmured.

Ilya nodded. “Well, text me when you get to hotel, yes?” He told him.

Shane nodded. “Will do.”

He got his bag and waited for Rose. He figured it would be fun to catch up and gossip with her.

Rose couldn’t help her smile. “So, I couldn’t help but notice the vibe between you and Rozanov out there.” She pointed out casually, once they were both in the car, and she was driving towards the hotel.

Shane shook his head. “What? You thought there was a vibe? What kind of vibe were we giving off?”

“The kind of vibe that had me texting Svetlana while she’s driving to Boston to ask if he’s ever mentioned you,” Rose admitted. “Did find out that he has apparently been asking her for any possible information that she could give him about you.”

All that got her was an eye roll from Shane and a gruff, “Do not gossip about me to your girlfriend.”

“If you don’t want me gossiping about you to my girlfriend, maybe you shouldn’t spend half a match making heart eyes at her roommate who’s now your coworker,” Rose countered, before continuing. “So are you going to spill, or am I going to have to bug her into interrogating Ilya?”

Shane was blushing a bit. He decided honesty was the best policy with Rose. “We…kinda hooked up in my apartment last night, and we rode to the airport together this morning, and to the arena, and the only reason I am riding with you and not in the car with him on the way back to the hotel is that Scott Hunter bitched at me on the phone about kayfabe,” he rambled, as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Rose nodded, just taking all of that information in. “Alright, well first of all, what do you mean by kinda hooked up?”

“Just hand jobs,” Shane clarified.

Rose nodded, as she parked at the hotel. “Well it seems like you really like him, Shane.” She pointed out.

Shane blushed a bit. “Yeah. Maybe I do.” He said, glancing at his phone. He decided to be bold, since he had already checked in. He had his room number.

He knew Ilya had asked him to text when he was at the hotel.

He was very clear with what he was sending.