#agwc

Being an intern for WWE had its perks. Hunter had taken me in as part of his NXT team, assigning me to help out with the new United Kingdom tournament. They had high hopes for this tournament, seeing just how well the Cruiserweight Classic had done, now spawning it's own show, 205 Live. I couldn't complain a bit, loving everything about England, trying to internalize my burst of excitement when I found out I'd be travelling there, even if it was for work.

I'd quickly fallen in good favor with most of the guys involved in the tournament, but I was especially taken with the men from "Moustache Mountain", and their ever scowling best friend. Hunter had warned me from the get go that though fraternization wasn't completely banned, to be careful who I let my guard down around, that reputation was hard enough to build, sometimes impossible to repair. I couldn't explain what drew me to these three in particular, but I felt safe, I felt I could trust them.

Tyler Bate was the shy, eager to please one. Being the youngest at only 19, I felt very protective of him, being 9 years his senior, even though he was much more menacing than my small barely five foot frame. He was dorky and sweet, with looks to die for. He'd laugh every time he noticed me side-eyeing every girl he flirted with, not wanting him to get wrapped up with someone who just wanted him for his celebrity.

Pete Dunne was a harder nut to crack by far. It took almost a week of me withstanding his coldness before he finally talked to me. He was 4 years older than Tyler, and had seen more of the world, both good and bad. As gruff as his persona was, Pete was still nervous about letting people into his life, and just how much their lives were about to change. I wasn't always completely sure he believed me when I said I wasn't one of those types of people, but the more time we spent together, he seemed to relax a little more, even joking around with me from time to time.

Then there was Trent Seven. At 7 years my senior, he didn't need my protection, my watchful eye, as much as he just wanted, needed that companionship. Pete and Tyler were his friends, his "little brothers", he sometimes couldn't relate to them, and they to him. He was the consummate gentleman, always making sure I was taken care of just as much as I tried to do for them, even if he did shamelessly flirt with me while he did so.

Soon, I found myself working with them more than any of the others, most of the other interns scared off by Pete, no one able to get as close as me. William Regal took note of it quickly, one evening as they toured the arena the matches were to be held in. Though I was in complete work mode, my clipboard full of scribbled notes of updates in their schedules, the hat holding my hair back looked a lot like the one Pete was wearing just the day before. His brows furrowed, hearing wisps of the whispers shared between Tyler and I, and how Trent fussed over the fact I was dressed just in a tank top and jeans, draping his jacket over my shoulders.

"Remember who you work for." was all he said to me that evening as everyone was heading home, his eyes still locked with mine as Pete stole his hat back, yelling about heading out to a pub with Mark Andrews.

Getting up the next morning, I knew I'd be alone for breakfast. As much as I warned those boys not to get shitfaced, they'd give me some boastful bs about being Englishmen that could handle their drink, and yet, it wasn't uncommon for me to receive drunk texts from one of them at least, ranging from trying to get me to come out, to racy innuendos that no one spoke about the next day. I'd just finished my cereal, poking at the fruit on my plate when Pete and Tyler stumbled into the dining room, eyes still hooded, looking more than half asleep.

"Let me go get you two some coffee." I eased, the pair mumbled their thanks, Tyler stealing a section of orange off my plate. Placing their cups in front of them, I pushed the rest of the fruit towards them as well.

"Where's your fearless leader?"

"Sleeping still, most likely." Pete muttered into his cup.

"Better go check on him, then. You guys eat up, and try to wake up. We've got work to do later."

Thanking my lucky stars that they'd each given me their spare key cards, I did my best to quietly enter Trent's room, even though his snoring would have drowned out a full tank assault. He only snored this loudly when he was completely knackered, most likely from staying out so late the night before. Sleeping on his side,the sheets bunched up around his middle, his bare chest fully exposed, hair far from its usual coif. Toeing my shoes off by the door, I snuck up to the bed, sitting on the edge, running my fingers through his hair, snickering at his cute grumbles of protest.

"Come on, Seven. Wakey wakey." I prodded, moving my hand from his hair to his back, lightly scratching at his skin.

"Not a chance." he groaned, humming in appreciation.

"And why not?"

"Because you'll stop." Breathing in a laugh, I watched him slightly open his eyes, smiling up at me.

"Lay down with me." he whined, tugging me down into the softness of the bed, warm where he was just lying.

"Trent, we should be getting you ready. Regal will have my ass if-"

"How come he gets your arse. Maybe I want it." he mused, obviously not listening to a word I was saying, focusing more on getting us both comfortable.

"Be serious now, you goof." I teased, but deep down, I was nervous. I hadn't admitted it to anyone, but I was attracted to Trent, almost from the very beginning. Through all the hair and beard, his eyes always shined bright, always smiling at me.

"I am, pet. This may be the most bloody serious I've ever been." Suddenly he was looking a lot less hungover, and a lot more lovesick.

"I think you wanted me to come up here and get you. You set those two up, didn't you?" I giggled at his sheepish smile, lightly pushing at his chest.

"Ah, I owe those chaps for keeping up their end of the bargain. We knew you'd be up too early for your own good, and I asked them to get up early-"

"'cause you knew I'd come up here to get you."

"And I could have you all to myself."

"And what of my job? The rest of the competitors?"

"Well, me and the lads, we worked something out with Hunter and Regal." Pushing myself away a bit, he was quick to gather me closer.

"You're still technically working for WWE, but you're exclusively with me and the lads. A liaison, you could say. You can stay with us, with me, in England."

"Greedy, aren't you." I teased, letting go of some of the stress that had clamped down on my shoulders, laying my head on his chest.

"When its something that means as much to me as you do, then fuck yes. Now, what time do we have to be at the venue?"

"Three." I mumbled back, his fingers running through my hair this time, lulling me away. Reaching for his phone, he set an alarm, before tugging me under the blankets with him.

"Enough time for a nap, 'eh, love?"

"Sounds good. Just one thing though, Seven." I replied, sitting up a bit to face him.

"And what's that?" Cupping his cheeks, I leaned over, our first kiss much like our current situation- soft, tender, and sweet. Snuggling into his warmth, I heard him chuckle quietly to himself.

I may have missed my boyfriend, spending most of our three year relationship looking at him through a screen, rather than face to face, but this was not exactly how I pictured having him home. Due to a tragic mishap at a house show the night before RAW, Dash had broken his jaw, and was now looking more like Darla from Finding Nemo than he did my favorite angry teddy bear, even if he hated me calling him that. His tag team partner Scott was also sidelined, and was trying his best to help keep Dash's spirits up, but nothing we seemed to do was working lately.

He'd been home about a week when he finally dropped the frustration, and let me back in. I'd gotten up early that Saturday morning, wanting to try a new smoothie recipe, almost gagging at the sight of Dash "drinking" pizza the night before, trying to get him to eat a little healthier, at least for breakfast. Grabbing my laptop, I turned on Spotify, knowing music always made him happier. Humming along with the music, I jumped a little when arms snaked their way around my waist, pulling me into his chest, humming in appreciation. Turning in his arms, I placed my hands on his chest, kissing his cheek.

"Sleep good?" His eyes were still clouded with sleep, his hair mussed from the pillow, dressed in his boxers, me in his shirt. Grumbling, he pulled me that impossible inch closer, nuzzling into my hair, nodding slightly.

"I made you some breakfast. Oh, don't give me that face." I chided playfully, the pout on his face evident. Dash and I loved big breakfasts, and the fact everything he was getting was now inside of his Yeti cup did not sit well with him. Turning my back to pour my own glass, I felt Dash tap my arm. Looking over my shoulder, he was pointing at my computer screen. Blushing slightly, I realized too late I'd left Tumblr open.

"It's just a website. A community of blogs. People talk about everything. Art, books, sex, even you guys." His intrest piqued obviously, though I wasn't sure which of my last two choices got him the most.

"Wanna see?" He nodded furiously, a smoothie mustache coating his beard.

"Probably not the one you were wanting, but here." Finding it quickly, I found his tag, watching him scroll through the posts, his brows quickly furrowing.

"Something the matter?" I asked, wondering if he'd be able to tell me, or would he even. Dash stood straight, looking over his shoulder, and I quickly figured out what his issue was.

"You're worried about your booty, baby?" His cheeks flushed in a heart beat, rubbing his beard in shame. This time, I wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my hands on the "situation".

"I happen to love your behind, Dash. You look amazing in jeans, in sweats, and God, those trunks of yours." Moving my arms to around his neck, he held me loosely, the pair of us swaying around the kitchen.