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coloursflyaway · 11 days

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That's so sweet of you to even reply! Um now that you've put me on the spot 😂..honestly I'm a bit clueless 😅. I'm not very imaginative. I just really enjoy reading zowens and so far the few I've read from a couple of you guys have been reallyy good reads!

All I know is that may be something where it's mutual pining and Sami's lost all hope but it's actually not unrequited?? May be a bit of possessive Kevin thrown in? Idk 😭 is what I just said even classified as a prompt??

PS. I know you said you haven't watched wrestling in a while but did you happen to catch the zowens moments at wrestlemania at all! ? 😍😁

Hi!!

So, first of all, great prompt, fits them fantastic, loved it. I just ended up overdoing it by a little, I think, so now it's not really a prompt fill anymore, but a whole fic 😂 really didn't expect that because writing has been Hard lately, so thank you for that!!

Here's the AO3 link, but I'll include the text here too.

PS. I have mainly seen the gifsets of them, but they are!!! so!!!! I love them ♥

There is a brand-new, shining belt in his hands and Sami is aware that this should be the happiest moment in his life. It isn’t. He looks down at the silver plates, the leather strap, heavy and solid and everything he worked for, and he’s happy, of course, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it doesn’t compare to - Well. No matter. Some things you cannot have; Sami has learnt that years and years ago.

Kevin’s face is shining with joy about the match he won and the beers he has had to celebrate it, and Sami’s heart aches at the sight, fierce and wild and beautiful. “The next time”, Kevin mutters into the too-short distance between them, and when Kevin takes another deep swig of his drink, Sami knows that he will have forgotten the words the next morning, “the next time, we’ll tag and we will take all of them out. Jus’ you and me, we’ll fuck them up and send them back crying to their mothers. An’ then we’ll do it again, and again, and again, until we’ll get a shot a’ the titles and then we’ll take ‘em too. An’ we’ll be unstoppable.”

He’s beaming and leaning in and Sami feels himself swaying closer, cannot stop himself. Kevin is magnetic, always has been, and Sami sometimes wonders how long he’ll be able to stop himself from giving in to his pull.

There is a knock on the door of his dressing room, which finally pulls him out of his reverie. Sami takes a moment to compose himself before he answers, wiping silly fantasies from his mind that he has known to be useless for most of his life now like he would wipe tears from his eyes. He’s used to both, after all. “Come in!”

The door swings open, and he shouldn’t, but Sami knows who is behind it before he sees Kevin standing there. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”, Kevin asks instead of a greeting, stepping into the room like he owns it. In some way, Sami guesses, he does. “What makes you think that’s not what I am doing?”, he asks back, getting up, because knowing Kevin, he’ll be pulled into a hug within the next thirty seconds. Knowing himself, he won’t ever be able to turn down a chance to be close to Kevin.

His words draw a laugh from Kevin’s lips that Sami treasures, and just like Sami knew he would, Kevin wraps his arms around him the second Sami has stood up. The edges of his belt presses into his stomach painfully, but that is a small price to pay for the comfort of Kevin’s thick, warm arms around him, the faint tickle of Kevin’s beard against Sami’s neck.

“To start with”, Kevin begins to answer while still pressed against Sami, only slowly pulling back, “because you are in here and not out there, where you should be. Also, because I have known you for more than half my life and this isn’t your celebratory face.”

“Sounds good”, he replies easily, then adds, “only that we’ll have to wait a bit longer with doing that, I’m booked to tag with Quicksilver the next show. But after that…” He doesn’t expect more than a scoff – Kevin isn’t that fond of Quicksilver, but then again, he isn’t fond of a lot of people – but instead, Kevin’s face darkens, his brows furrowing and his eyes suddenly glistening in the dim light of the bar. It’s a look Sami half-recognises from the ring, because the intensity is almost the same, but there is something else mixed into it. Something dark, something dangerous, something alluring.

He’s right, of course he is, but Sami still tries for a few moments to come up with an excuse, before he finally nods. It wouldn’t make a difference, saying anything else, when Kevin knows him so well. “It’s nothing”, he adds, because he can see Kevin starting to worry within half a second. “Just a bit of nostalgia. Reminiscing about the old days, you know the drill.” “How old?”, Kevin asks and, thank God, the smile is back in his voice and his eyes and Sami wants to luxuriate in it, wants to stay here forever. In any moment with Kevin, really.

“Ring of Honor old”, he replies with a wry smile, because it almost feels like a confession; to be here, at the pinnacle of his career, and thinking about being young and dumb and so, so hopeful. Again, it makes Kevin laugh, makes him clasp a hand on the side of Sami’s shoulder; a point of contact that is so warm it would be enough to sustain him through a winter. “That is old.” “I know.” “Anything special? Or just the general beauty of horrible hotels, being sixty percent bruises and having to put me in bed after I drank my weight in shitty lager?”

There is something about old wounds, the way their pain becomes familiar, almost an old friend. Sami’s lips tingle, remembering, his heart aches, dull and yet fierce, but he smiles nonetheless, too used to the pain for it to feel disruptive.

“All of the above, I’d say.”

“Quicksilver?”, Kevin repeats, and even his voice is different, rough and full of something that Sami doesn’t understand, yet desperately wants to. “Yes. You know, silver and blue mask, used to hang around with Scorpio Sky?” “I know who he is”, Kevin replies, but his voice hasn’t changed. Maybe Sami missed a fight between them in the past? “Why are you tagging with him?”

Sami self-consciously pushes a hand through his hair; it’s becoming too long again. “Well, he asked and I didn’t see anything wrong with giving it a shot. He seems like a-” “You shouldn’t tag with anyone but me”, Kevin interrupts him, and suddenly Sami does recognise what is dripping from every word he speaks: hunger. “Fuck Quicksilver. Fuck all of them. They don’t have what we have. They never will.”

“Doesn’t sound very celebratory”, Kevin states, but there is humour in his voice. “How about tomorrow, after I win the United States Championship, we’ll do it properly? I don’t think I’ll be able to give you the customary three dozen bruises until then, but if you really miss it so much, I am sure we can find some terrible highway motel we can crash in. And as long as it’s better beer, I don’t mind drinking too much of it.”

It’s a joke, of course it is, and a sweet half-serious offer to relive a bit of a time Sami misses dearly on occasion, and yet it’s suddenly too much. Because he has a title in his hands, because out there, there are thousands who cheered for him, and yet, it isn’t the happiest moment in his life, not by far.

The familiar ache in his chest breaks open like the earth cracking in half to spew fire, and Sami knows that he cannot keep the pain from his face even before Kevin reacts. But react he does, worry suddenly clouding his gaze, the hand he still has on Sami’s shoulder gripping harder.

“Sami?”, he asks, and his voice is too much, his gaze, his concern, his friendship that has never been all Sami wanted. “Are you alright? Should I get a doctor?”

“I’m okay”, Sami manages to force out, but he doesn’t sound it, not even to himself. “Just. Don’t say that, Kevin. Not with the… the shitty hotels and the drinking.” It takes a moment to get a reaction, which Sami understands; he isn’t making sense, after all. But then, all of a sudden, Kevin’s expression crumples, his shoulders drop like a burden, half-forgotten, has been forced upon them once more.

“I’m sorry”, he mutters, fingers tightening reflexively around Sami’s shoulder before they fall away. “I never… the last time, when I got so drunk you had to take me to my room, you never told me what happened, even if I have an inkling… I don’t think I ever had the guts to say it, but I’m sorry. For whatever it is I did.”

“Kevin”, he breathes out, unsure, because surely this cannot be happening. Sami has been aware of his own feelings for years, but there is no way they could be requited. And yet, there is a glint in Kevin’s eyes that looks like yearning; and yet, Sami’s heart picks up its pace, spelling out in morse code: pleasepleasepleaseplease.

A moment of silence stretches between them, thick and viscous, then Kevin knocks back the rest of his beer, before crushing the can and dropping it on the floor. “Fuck it”, he mutters, and Sami wants to ask what he means, but before he can get the words out, Kevin reaches out, one hand on Sami’s hip, one on the side of his neck, and pulls him in. He tastes of gas station beer and stale chips and almost ten years of quiet, desperate, hopeless longing, and even before he manages to kiss back, Sami knows that this is the happiest he ever will be.

“What?”

Kevin isn’t looking at him anymore, but there is so much pain written in clear, horrible letters across his face that it washes away the ache in Sami’s chest; how could it matter, when Kevin is hurting right in front of him?

A wry laugh escapes Kevin’s lips, which might be the worst sound Sami has ever heard, but then he speaks, still not looking at Sami, and makes it worse. “I’m sure you remember it as well as I do, that one night when we were still in ROH. Before you started tagging with Quicksilver. When Chuck, I think, got all that horrible beer from the gas station around the corner and I just didn’t know when to stop. I never had the guts to ask what happened either, but you were so different afterwards, didn’t want to be touched, to be alone with me… and the scribbling on my arm… tell me if I’m wrong, but after some time I figured that I probably, you know. Kissed you. Which I shouldn’t have, of course. Against your will. So, don’t worry, I won’t do that again. Ever.”

“Did you sleep well?”, Sami asks the next morning when Kevin opens the door of his hotel room, looking dishevelled and hungover and utterly beautiful. For once, they had splurged on two hotel rooms instead of sharing one, and while Sami wishes he could have woken up next to Kevin, maybe even wrapped up in his arms, this, too, is wonderful.

He hands Kevin one of the coffees he picked up at a nearby café, idly wondering if this could become his thing now, treating his… his Kevin to coffee in the morning. After all, he usually is up far earlier than the other.

“Ugh”, Kevin replies, taking a gulp of coffee before even trying to form words, and it might be the most enchanting sound Sami has ever heard. “Think so. Can’t remember much. About sleeping or last night. Did you get into a fight, by the way?”

“What? No, no fights”, Sami replies distractedly, wondering if that means Kevin doesn’t remember their kiss, wondering if that means they will get to have two first kisses. Almost smiles at how much he will get to tease Kevin about it if he really has forgotten. All but plans to start the story of how they got together with this from now on: you know, I was in love with Kevin for almost a decade and he kisses me and then immediately forgets about it! Can you believe that?

“You sure?”, Kevin asks again between sips of coffee. “I know my handwriting is awful and drunk it’s even worse, and the letters are really smudged, but I wrote Don’t fuck with Sami on my arm last night.”

It takes a moment to sink in through the layers of happiness and imagined mornings and afternoons and evenings together, but eventually, Sami learns what it feels like to have the world end while not making a sound.

Sami recognises the pain on Kevin’s face; it’s the twin of his own, the one that has been with him for so long that it has found its permanent home at the bottom of his heart, with him in every moment he spends with Kevin, every one they are apart. It’s old and it’s weary and it’s familiar, and Sami should hate it, but.

But if his heart houses the other half of it, then that has to mean something.

And then Kevin says kissed, and for a moment, Sami thinks that he remembers, before realising that, no, he doesn’t, and somehow that is worse.

“You did”, he answers, and finally, Kevin looks at him again. His eyes are wide and terrified and still beautiful, and Sami hasn’t allowed himself to think it for a decade at least, but he loves him so much it is tearing him apart. “You kissed me that night. And then you didn’t remember it the next day, only had that writing on your arm and I thought you were trying to warn yourself not to do it again. But. Kevin. I kissed back.”

Kevin stumbles into his room, his lips still tingling with the last kiss Sami pressed onto them before closing the door behind him. Smiling so brightly Kevin thought he would burn up just looking at him, so happily that Kevin wanted to burn. Sami. The name alone is enough to make something within Kevin break open and pour out six or seven or eight years of pure love into the space between his ribs. He can’t explain why he had the courage to kiss Sami tonight, when he had sworn to himself he never would again and again and again, but now, knowing how Sami’s lips feel against his, how his hair feels between his fingers, his body pressed against Kevin’s, he thanks every divine entity he might believe in or not that he did.

Sami.

The alcohol is making his movements sluggish and sloppy, but Kevin manages to find a pen at the bottom of his backpack anyway, stored away for – maybe, hopefully – signing autographs after the show. He didn’t, but not even that matters anymore, because he needs it now for something much more important.

Don’t forget kiss with Sami, he writes on his arm, letters sloping and curling into each other, a smudge across half of it.

Not that he thinks there is much risk of doing so. After all, hadn’t Sami kissing him back been the happiest moment of his life?

There is no answer for several seconds, Kevin just staring at him like he has changed his life and hung the stars and the moon and the sun itself, and Sami is stuck in place until he isn’t anymore. Because the first time, years and years ago, Kevin had been brave enough to take the first step, and afterwards, Sami hadn’t dared to do the same. But maybe now is the time to return the favour.

Trembling, he picks up Kevin’s hands, which are warm and familiar, have caused as much hurt as they have healed, and puts them on his own body: one on his hip, the other on the side of his neck. And he steps closer, until he’s so close he can read the hopeful disbelief in Kevin’s eyes, can feel that the other’s breath has stopped.

“It was just like this”, Sami explains, and Kevin’s gaze drops to his lips, shoots up again as if he has to make sure that Sami wants this. “You didn’t want me to tag with Quicksilver. Or anyone else. You said that they could never have what we have, and you were right, and then you pulled me in and-”

Kevin kisses him.

He tastes like chewing gum and Red Bull and love, and Sami drinks him in until it feels like he is drowning, and even before he manages to kiss back, Sami knows that this, now truly, is the happiest he ever will be

#kevin owens #sami zayn #zowens #kevin steen #el generico #steenerico #wwe #wrestlemania

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