Chapter Text
There was definitely a hierarchy in the CZW locker room, and an obvious one at that. Chuck wasn’t that dumb, he knew where he stood, and that was at the very bottom.
So, when some of the older guys invited him and a few of the other guys to hang out with them, he felt pretty good about himself. Maybe he’d impressed some of them, he wasn’t sure, but he felt pretty cool. And it was cool, hanging out with those older guys, they’d been around for a little longer than the rest of them, had some wisdom to give out.
Oh, and a whole lot of alcohol. That helped too, considering the fact that he couldn’t exactly go and get booze himself, so it wasn’t like he could provide much other than approximately ten bucks and himself. But they’d invited him anyway, gotten him nice and drunk in someone else’s motel room, one that wasn’t split between, like, six guys, one that just had two people staying in it, with two beds too.
It felt like the height of luxury to Chuck, who was very drunk and pleased with not having to trip over a bunch of bags whenever he had to use the bathroom. Which was a lot, he was drunk after all, and people kept getting him more drinks.
There was less wisdom in the room and more road stories that probably weren’t true if he really thought about them. Like one of the guys swearing that he’d had a foursome with three crazy hot fans after a show, Chuck hadn’t really seen any hot fans but maybe all of the hot fans had stayed home that night? He didn’t know, he wasn’t about to call out the story for being bullshit, not when he was trying to seem cool, like he could hang with the big boys.
One of the other guys immediately tried to one up the foursome guy, telling them all about how this hot fan let him stick it up her ass, which made Chuck blush into his beer. He’d been in locker rooms before but these stories were getting a little out of hand, he wasn’t sure he needed to know all of this. Plus, he still wasn’t exactly sure where all of these hot fans were. Maybe the guys were talking about different shows that weren’t CZW, some weird hot girl wrestling fanbase that existed outside of CZW.
He was still thinking about the logistics of sticking something up someone’s ass, when, suddenly, there was a little blond guy being pushed in his general direction, stumbling over one of the few bags in the room like a total idiot, nearly falling into his lap. The blond guy looked a little annoyed, but Chuck knew that he was probably trying to be cool too, so neither of them said anything about him being pushed, and Chuck pointedly ignored the little hand that had landed on his leg even though it was warm and small, lingering for a little too long.
“Go with him.” The guy who pushed him said.
And Chuck didn’t know where he was going, but he wasn’t going to object, setting his beer down and grabbing his jacket, following the little blond guy out.
He’d seen him earlier, in the locker room, but he’d been more occupied with getting to know his team for the match instead of meeting everyone. But he had noticed him, hair all long and shiny even in the dim light, he’d never seen someone who was that blond before. Not even a girl, thinking about all of those hot girls that the other guys had hooked up with, he hadn’t seen any hot fans but he steered his thoughts away from shiny blond hair, bringing his brain to where it should be.
Shit, he didn’t remember the guy’s name. What was it? JC? Was that it? Or maybe it was OC, he didn’t know, neither sounded wrong to him. Had the guy even said his name, maybe he was just making it up, he’d barely glanced at the match card after finding out that he was opening the show, but there was definitely a C there.
“Where are we going anyway?” He asked, and the guy looked at him all funny, so clearly he hadn’t been paying attention and was already told what he was supposed to be doing.
“We’re getting more beer.” The blond guy said, rolling his eyes obviously, which made Chuck feel…
Well, he didn’t know how it made him feel, he was too drunk to be deciding that. But it felt weird and a little unpleasant, but also sort of...something else? Close to good. He didn’t know. It was weird, that was all, itching under his skin. JC, he was pretty sure it was JC, looking at him, blue eyes prickling at his skin, like he wanted JC to look at him or something like that. A wholly uncool thought, he didn’t even know where it was coming from, he wanted JC to look at him, what the hell did that even mean?
But JC was looking at him, questioningly, and he realized that he had said something to him. Christ, he’d had too much to drink.
“What?” He asked, and JC just looked so deeply unimpressed with him, rolling his eyes again.
“Christ, looks like I’m driving then. I asked if they gave you any money?”
Oh, well that made sense. He didn’t think he was that drunk but he patted at his pockets, looking for some cash before realizing that the only money he had was his own, frowning as he pulled the crumpled up ten dollar bill out of his pocket.
“No, just this.” He said, holding it up to JC.
“That is money, how much have you been drinking, anyway?” He said, sneering, like Chuck was dumb or something.
Which he probably was, but Chuck rolled his eyes like JC was the idiot.
“They didn’t give me any money, that’s my money.”
“Whatever, let’s just go.” JC said, rolling his eyes again and frowning up at Chuck.
He unlocked the door of someone else’s rental car, sliding into the driver’s side. For a ridiculous second, Chuck thought about shutting his door for him, but that’d be totally weird and he didn’t really know why he thought about doing it in the first place. Instead, he stared at the door after JC shut it himself for a little while until he was offering him another eye roll through the window, rolling it down and glaring at him.
“Are you getting in or what?” He said, a little snotty, dragging Chuck out of his thoughts.
Closing his door for him, like some sort of...gentleman? Weird, really weird. He was drunker than he thought, brain wanting him to act nice towards this bratty blond guy.
Chuck did a half jog around the car, opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat, leaning against the door almost instantly as JC pulled out of the parking lot to search for a nearby liquor store. The glass was cool against his head, clearing it up a little as JC drove, someone else’s mix CD playing in the background to fill the silence between them.
It was strange in a way that he’d never felt before. He’d met plenty of people because of wrestling, and not everyone liked him but...JC was strange. He didn’t know why but he was strange, and he made Chuck feel all weird. Almost like he was drunker than he actually was, there was something drawing him to JC.
Maybe he was that drunk. Thinking about a little blond guy instead of foursomes with hot female fans, but a foursome sounded like a lot of work, but that thing the other guy had mentioned seemed a lot easier, little hand landing on his leg…
God, he was fucking drunk. What the hell was he thinking, he barely knew the guy and he was a guy, so he shouldn’t be thinking like that at all. Chuck had to shake his head, like he could knock the weird thoughts out of his brain. It seemed to work though, brain clear of any of those weird thoughts all of a sudden. Just some weird, intrusive thoughts, it was fine, he was just drunk and in a weird mood.
His brain was really lagging behind, JC reaching over with his small hand and pushing Chuck’s shoulder.
“For the last time, we’re here.” JC said, squeaky voice getting increasingly more pissed off.
“Huh?” Chuck had to ask, looking out the window, seeing the liquor store in front of him.
“Oh my god,” JC hissed, rolling his eyes again, “we’re. Here. Idiot.”
He squinted at JC, wanting to say something about not being an idiot but, well. He was man enough to admit that he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, especially not when drunk.
“I can’t go in there.” He said instead of defending his honor.
“What? Why not?”
“I’m not old enough. Hey, wait, how are you gonna go in there, there’s no way you’re old enough either. You got a fake or something?” Chuck said, leaning back against the door.
JC rolled his eyes again, kicking his door open.
“I’m twenty-one. Come on, they’re not going to card us both and I need your help carrying stuff.”
He was probably right, as long as he brought the stuff up to the counter and let JC do the talking, they probably wouldn’t card them both. They walked into the store together and Chuck picked up the finest beer his ten dollars could buy, two packs of cheap beer, hauling it over to the counter and standing behind JC.
The cashier’s eyes flicked between the both of them, JC to him and then back to JC. He shook his head almost instantly, fixing them both with a frown.
“I’m gonna need to see some ID from both of you.” The guy said, and JC grabbed his arm then, dragging him out of the liquor store, leaving the beer on the counter.
“Told you.” Chuck said, sliding back into the car.
“I think I saw another place a little further up the street. You’ll just give me the cash and I’ll go in by myself.” JC said, starting the car again.
But that liquor store was closed, and so was the next one. And the one after that didn’t have any beer cheap enough that their ten dollars could buy enough for everyone, so it really seemed like they were out of luck, which was a shame because Chuck was definitely starting to sober up.
“Just go buy some bourbon or something for us, we just won’t go back to the party, they’re not going to notice.” Chuck finally suggested, needing something to take the edge off of disappointing those older guys.
JC disappeared back into the liquor store, coming out with a brown bag and driving back to the motel. He parked far away from everyone else, driving around the back to avoid being seen by anyone who went outside for a smoke break. After all, they really didn’t have enough for everyone and they’d blown it at the only store that was open that had the cheap beer.
He’d apparently had enough of the shitty nu metal mixtape, reaching over and turning the music to the radio, scrolling through until he found something he thought was worth listening to while Chuck cracked into the bottle, taking a sip and then handing it over to JC.
JC immediately grimaced at the taste and then he started coughing, pushing the bottle into Chuck’s hands, bourbon definitely wasn’t his usual drink of choice. Chuck couldn’t help but laugh a little, taking another swig of the bourbon, looking around for some sort of water to give to him. There wasn’t any of course, nothing to help him through the burn, Chuck reaching over and patting his shoulder before he could really think of a reason not to.
That little hand on his leg, almost falling on him, his hand on JC’s shoulder, he shouldn’t be touching him like that. He had to force his hand to come off of his body, maybe the bourbon was hitting him harder than he realized, peeling his hand away from JC and gripping the bottle in two hands, white knuckles on the glass bottle.
“You alright, JC?” He asked, focused on the label, cheeks a little pink.
“I’m fine,” he said, and then, “wait, JC?”
“Uh, yeah, isn’t that your name?” Chuck said, suddenly feeling like he might’ve picked wrong.
He expected another bitchy eye roll and scoff, but this weird squeaky sound was coming from him instead, and it took a few seconds for Chuck to realize that he was laughing. It was such a strange laugh, but it made Chuck laugh too, feeling warm from more than the bourbon. Not-JC took the bottle from him then, taking another swig, grimacing but not choking on it.
Like he could get used to it or something, the taste of bourbon, licking his lips and grinning at Chuck.
“OC,” he said, “Orange Cassidy. Can I tell you something?”
Chuck flushed, hands sweating a little. What could OC…Orange want to tell him? And why was he blushing about it? He didn’t have the answers but, that small hand on his leg, ridiculously shiny blond hair, that guy telling them about what a girl let him do to her...maybe it was just a combination of the weird night and the alcohol buzzing through his body? Still, he nodded and Orange’s grin grew a little sheepish.
“I can’t remember your name either.”
That set them both off into another laughing fit. That was probably why Orange was looking at him so much, he was trying to remember his name.
“Chuck Taylor.” He said, when he could breathe again.
“Nice to meet you...uh, again.” Orange responded, holding his hand out.
Chuck took it before he could think of a reason not to, staring down at that small hand as it was engulfed by his own. He should’ve shaken it then, nice to meet you and all, but...that tiny hand on his leg, sliding up higher, all of those things he shouldn’t think about, what that guy had mentioned doing with that hot fan, but there was no hot girl there, just their hands clasped together over the center console, neither one of them moving to try and break the hold.
But then some nu metal sounding song came on and Orange cleared his throat, turning his attention to the radio, hand sliding out of Chuck’s to turn the dials instead.
“I can’t escape this crap.” He said, scoffing, and Chuck laughed.
“You might be in the wrong business then.”
“Probably.”
He passed the bottle back to Chuck then, Chuck taking a desperately needed gulp, trying to ignore the fact that Orange’s lips had just been on the bottle, the glass still warm from his breath. Shit, maybe he should’ve suggested something that they wouldn’t have had to share, just a six pack split between the two of them. Chuck passed the bottle back over to him, their fingers brushing against the glass, and he had to bite back a gasp.
Damn, all of that bourbon really was hitting him, watching Orange’s lips against the mouth of the bottle, drinking from the same place he’d just had his own mouth. He watched the way his throat worked around his mouthful. Shit, he needed some water, his mouth was dry...but the bourbon would have to do, Orange handing the bottle back to him.
Chuck let his eyes slip shut, drinking deeply from the bottle. His skin was hot, flushed all of a sudden, like...like he was being watched. His eyes slid open then, wondering who was watching him, worried for a second that the guys had found them and were going to get mad at them for not bringing any beer back. But there was no one else, the parking lot as dead as it had been since they pulled in, no one standing outside the car. It was just him and...and Orange. Turning his head, Orange was looking at him, watching him drink, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, cheeks flushed. He looked away quickly when Chuck turned his head, facing forward.
And Chuck didn’t know what any of it meant but he liked that Orange was looking at him. He hardly knew him, but he liked that he was looking at him, liked it when he touched him, his hand on his leg, grabbing his arm to drag him out of the liquor store, their hands clasped together. And he’d met plenty of people in wrestling, that much was true, but this Orange guy was somehow different from the people he’d liked and the people he’d hated, and Chuck didn’t know why.
So he just passed the bottle to Orange, expecting him to take a drink. Instead, he just stared at the label for a few seconds before his eyes flicked up to Chuck’s, staring at him, bold over the center console where their hands had connected. Chuck wanted to look away but, for some reason, he just couldn’t do it, staring right into Orange’s eyes.
“I’m going to sit in the back.” He said.
And he’d said it like he was saying something else, but Chuck’s eyebrows furrowed. He just couldn’t figure it out for the life of him.
“Okay.” He said in response, and Orange didn’t roll his eyes but it was close.
He slid out of the car then and into the backseat. It was pretty inconvenient that Chuck was going to have to pass the bottle back to him, but Orange spread himself out, capping the bottle and setting it to the side.
“You should sit back here too.”
That made sense, it probably would be more comfortable back there. They wouldn’t have to pass the bottle over the center console or back and forth from the front and back seat, so Chuck took his lead, getting out, into the cold December air. It was starting to snow, just a flurry, little flakes floating through the air. He stood out there for a little too long, wondering if he was just crazy, wondering if it meant nothing.
That feeling in his chest, he’d never felt it before. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to mean anything, maybe putting meaning to that feeling would make it scarier than it already was. Because he was scared, he was terrified actually. Like a child, falling for the first time, scraping his knee, crying because he couldn’t figure out how to express the way he was feeling. Twenty was too old to be discovering new feelings, but he was twenty and he was every other age that came before, and Orange was waiting for him to get in the car and do...something other than just standing there.
That hand on his leg, would it slide higher if Orange put it back there? And did he even want it like that, he’d never...with another guy before, he never thought he’d wanted to. But Orange had been in his life for just a few hours, and he was thinking all sorts of strange thoughts, thinking that…
Well. Thinking that he might want it.
But, what if Orange didn’t want it? What if he was looking too far into things, eyes bold over the center console. He’d never done this with another guy, but he’d been with girls before, knew that...y’know. Stuff. Tended to happen in the backseat. And Orange had said that he should get in the backseat too, so...did he want that nebulous stuff to happen? That guy, talking about what that girl let him do, would…
Well, no, probably not. Chuck didn’t even really know how that’d work, and that didn’t really feel like something you did in a car, especially not the first time you ever fooled around with a guy. That feels like a later on sort of thing, when you have a little more experience, and he wasn’t even sure that Orange was going to like it but...whatever, they probably wouldn’t see each other that often. The wrestling scene was wide and he didn’t think that he’d be sticking around in the Philadelphia area for that long anyway, doing a brief tour before heading back home to the midsouth scene instead.
He could do this and it wouldn’t be weird, because it’d probably be a few months before he saw Orange again and...maybe he wouldn’t even like it.
Right. He was still standing in the snow. Chuck slid into the backseat, suddenly feeling more than a little dumb and very lost. But Orange was passing him the bottle, looking lost too, and he knew that some more bourbon would probably confuse him further, but it would also make him relax.
He took another sip, passing the bottle over to Orange. But Orange just put the lid back on it again, setting it to the side and shifting a little closer to him. Chuck opened his mouth to ask for it back or to tell him to keep drinking, keep it all normal, where it should be. Two guys, drinking in the backseat of someone else’s rental car, perfectly normal things. But no words came out as he moved a little close as well.
And a little closer.
And a little closer still.
Chuck’s heart was hammering in his chest, palms starting to sweat, Orange was facing him then, their thighs brushing together. His little hand found Chuck’s thigh and it felt like it was where it belonged, this scrawny guy with the blondest hair he’d ever seen, Chuck knew that it was a sign that he should make a move, that he could make a move.
He knew that he had to do it so he wouldn’t lose his nerve, wiping his hand on his shirt before cupping Orange’s face and bringing him in, bringing their lips together and kissing him.
Chuck didn’t know what he expected to happen, kissing a guy for the first time. He expected it to feel different for some reason, his mouth rougher and more masculine, some stubble. But Orange must’ve shaved that morning because there was no stubble, and his lips were soft and sweet under his own. He never liked kissing, but Orange was opening up all sweet for him, sighing into it happily, and he figured that he could learn to like kissing if he was kissing Orange.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands besides grabbing at his face, but they were starting to get a little sweaty again so he figured that he should move them. Orange had his hands on his shoulders, and Chuck thought that it might be weird if he did the same, so he let his hands find his hips again, fingers spread out. Orange really was that much smaller than him, it was sort of insane if he was being honest...like how could someone be that small and that blond?
Chuck pulled back, looking down at him. The flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes fluttered open, it put that weird feeling back into his chest. God, maybe kissing a guy was a little different? He tried to think about kissing some other guy though and it just made him feel the same way as it would to kiss a girl, doable but not his favorite part. And it still wasn’t his favorite part but...there really was just something good about kissing Orange.
He didn’t know. Maybe he was just that drunk. He felt fumbly, deciding that he wanted to get Orange’s shirt off then, looking at his ridiculous abs. And he figured that he should leave his shirt on, but Orange was yanking his off too and leaning back in for another kiss.
Their first kiss had been on the sweeter side but the second one had him feeling like he needed to escalate things, they couldn’t just make out in someone else’s rental car until they got bored, there had to be some sort of destination. The beat of the tambourine in the song on the college station Orange had dialed in, fuzzing in and out, a tiny hand back on his leg like it fit there. And maybe it did, maybe there was a reason for him to be in Philadelphia...maybe he just wanted to see him again. Maybe their lips were meant to be slotted together.
Or maybe he’d had too much to drink. Maybe it was a mix of both. And maybe he’d think about taking more bookings on those Philly shows if it meant being closer to Orange. Being able to do this more, he had thought that he might want it to be a one time thing but Orange was shifting closer and licking into his mouth, making him groan, already overwhelmed.
He was hard in his jeans already just from a kiss, maybe it was the alcohol or the feeling of getting something you didn’t know you wanted, because there was something different about kissing a boy. It wasn’t something he’d ever let himself want but...well, it had always been there, hadn’t it? Sitting in the backseat, kissing a boy, if he really focused, he could feel a bit of stubble but he was way more concerned with tasting the bourbon on his tongue.
Somehow, it tasted better in his mouth. Which probably didn’t make much sense, but the cheap bourbon on Orange’s tongue tasted better and that was just how it was. The bourbon tasted better and he was kissing a boy, and he wanted to keep on kissing him, wanted to come back to Philadelphia so he could do it again and again.
Planning his career path around a guy. Maybe he could move to Philadelphia, maybe Kentucky had offered everything it could. He barely knew this guy but...maybe he could get to know him better. Tiny hands, pushing into his hair, hauling himself up with a groan, getting right in Chuck’s lap.
And his body felt so good against Chuck’s, the flat planes, muscles and soft, warm skin. And they were kissing, Orange was fucking sucking on his tongue like he was crazy for it, and Chuck was so hard all of a sudden, like harder than he’d ever been. Orange a great kisser and his body was ridiculous and he was sinking down onto his lap, grinding his little ass against his dick and--
Chuck let out a broken moan, head falling back, orgasm hitting him like a truck sideswiping a bicycle, brutal and inelegant. But it was good, it was so good, chest heaving as he ruined the inside of his boxers, crushing Orange against him and rutting up against him. He’d never thought of himself as a quickshot before but...well, he’d just met the guy and there was just something about him, something that Chuck knew could become some sort of a problem.
He could like him. He couldn’t introduce him to his parents or his friends, not in that way, but...he could like him, and that was definitely going to be a problem.
“Did you just…” Orange asked, a little breathless, still hard at the front of his jeans.
“Yeah...uh, yeah. Sorry.” He said, cringing at himself.
Orange was probably going to laugh at him, so it probably wasn’t going to turn into a problem actually. He’d just gotten into Chuck’s lap and Chuck had blown his load into his pants, he felt ridiculous and embarrassed, there was no way Orange was going to ever let him touch him again.
But Orange was cupping his face, a little smirk on his face. Like...like he liked it or something. Chuck didn’t know, he was too busy apologizing.
“Chuck, it’s alright.” Orange said, biting his lip, like maybe he was trying to hold back a laugh or something.
Chuck hated being laughed at, but Orange wasn’t laughing at him, not yet, so Chuck slid his hand up, cupping him hard through his jeans and starting to rub. He’d never done that before, but it was the same thing as rubbing himself off, just at a different angle. So he just tried to copy what he did, and Orange wasn’t laughing or anywhere close after that, gasping and arching up into his hand.
He could probably take him out of his jeans and jerk him off directly but, if he was being honest, kissing another guy and touching him was a hell of a lot already, he wasn’t sure if he could handle actually seeing his dick. He was drunk and overwhelmed enough to quickshot in his pants just from getting Orange into his lap, he might fully pass out if he saw what his dick looked like.
Maybe that could wait for another time? He hoped that there would be another time, knew that he had to do a good enough job to make it so that he could be given a second chance. He wasn’t going to come early ever again, not the next time or the time after that, he made a vow with himself right then and there. Never again.
Any laughter from Orange had died out into a moan, he couldn’t talk considering that he seemed to be close already, loud pants and ragged moans joining the sound of the college station in the background. His little hands found Chuck’s shoulders, fingertips digging in tight, holding on as Chuck continued to rub him through his jeans.
Chuck muffled his own shivery noises into Orange’s neck. He could probably get hard again if he wasn’t so drunk, but his skin felt like he was on fire and it was just a lot, and it was happening all at once, digging his teeth into Orange’s neck when Orange gave a particularly loud moan, bucking up hard into his hand, gasping out his name, it was a lot and he could probably get hard again, despite the alcohol, and--
Orange came then, gasping out his name again, fingers gripping him so tight that it hurt. And Chuck held him in close when he fell against his chest, holding him through it, letting Orange grind hard against his body, hand moving to grip his hips and bring him in close. He let out the prettiest moans Chuck had ever heard in his life, prettier than any girlfriend he’d ever had.
“Fuck.” Orange said after a while, voice high, thin, pretty.
“Fuck.” Chuck echoed, voice low and gravel deep, inelegant.
Chuck laid back after that, legs bunched up against the door, Orange on top of him. He figured that the kissing was probably over, but Orange was shifting up and sliding their lips together again, lazily kissing him. And he’d always thought about kissing as something he needed to do to get someone worked up enough to let him get his hands down their pants, but...it was sort of nice. Kissing without any goal. It was nice because it was Orange, and he didn’t really know him that well but, kissing without any goal, maybe the goal was to get to know him more?
Chuck didn’t really know. But Orange was kissing him, and Chuck was kissing him back, and it just felt nice. It felt good and nice, and Chuck wasn’t in any hurry anymore. Like kissing Orange cleared up any of the weird brain buzz, he wasn’t worried about what the others would think when they didn’t return with beer for everyone. They probably sent some of the other young boys to go get some for them, not caring about them, not even remembering their names.
Orange’s shoulders were shaking then and he was making this weird noise into his mouth. Chuck had to pull back, realizing that Orange was...was laughing. And he was worried for a second that Orange was laughing at him, remembering how quickly he came, but Orange was opening his mouth to speak, cute little squeaks coming out between words.
“I can’t believe we did this in someone else’s rental car.” He said, and Chuck had to laugh too.
“Neither of us can even rent a car.” Chuck said in return, which just made Orange laugh even harder until they were both cracking up.
Eventually, they’d have to return the car to the front of the motel, slip away into their own motel rooms, shared with five other guys. But, as they laughed together, Chuck figured that, for once, he didn’t have to rush.