Archive of Our Own ^beta

Saturday night passes quietly, Hook sitting on the fire escape, his head tilted upwards, letting the evening air brush through his hair gently. Tomorrow will be a busy, stressful day, first time back on the road since his head injuries, so he's doing his best to stay calm, not think too much about what may happen in the next 24 hours.

The sun's just set, painting the sky in deep purples and reds, when there's a soft knock on the window next to him. Hook sighs and glances over at it, slowly grabbing the railing and dragging himself up to his feet. He casts one last glance at the darkening sky before pushing the window open and going back inside. "Hey," he says, smiling at Orange as he steps back to give Hook more room. "What's up?"

Orange quietly reaches out and takes Hook's hand, guiding him in close. "Thought it'd be nice to do something for you tonight, since you're leaving tomorrow," he says.

Hook looks surprised. "Oh. Really?" He squeezes Orange's hand. "What do you have in mind?"

Orange winks at him and guides him to the living room, where Hook stops short in the doorway, taking it all in. "Did I do a good job?"

The room is dimly lit, candles flickering softly against the walls. Orange had moved the coffee table out of the way and stretched out a blanket, a couple of pillows scattered around it. The TV glows faintly on a loading screen, waiting for them to return to watch whatever it is Orange has selected. "Wha..."

Orange brushes his hand through his hair, eyes flickering from the set up to Hook and back again. "I thought, since you're flying out tomorrow, maybe we could have a nice night first." He wraps an arm around Hook and draws him in close, kissing him slowly. "Sound alright?"

"Yeah, sounds great," Hook says, trailing his hand up Orange's sternum, mindful of his injured side. "What're we watching?"

Orange smiles at him. "Well, I know we were both kind of disappointed that you won't be here for the season finale tomorrow, so I thought maybe we could marathon a few episodes to make up for it a little bit."

"Aha," Hook says, lips twitching upwards. His injury had come right at the start of The Last Of Us season 2. They weren't even partnering yet when season 1 came out, and considering he couldn't watch screens for a few weeks until his concussion symptoms eased off, he hadn't bothered with season 2 either until everything with Rocky joining the Don Callis Family had happened. Then Hook had been looking around for something to distract Orange, something for them to do together, and had settled on a marathon of the earlier episodes to get himself caught up to where Orange had left off at in season 2 before the last of the Conglomeration fell apart. After that, they'd kept watching it together every week, still searching for a distraction from their various problems.

"I'm down," he says, staring at the blanket. "So what picnicky type things are we doing here?"

Orange smirks, tugging him over to the blanket. "Sit down, relax, I'll be back in a minute."

"Oh boy," Hook mumbles, sinking down into the pillows and obligingly waiting. He glances around the room, taking in the ambiance as he leans against the couch, stretching his legs out and rolling his ankles lazily.

When Orange returns, juggling two plates and propping two cans of soda under his arm, Hook moves to help. "No, no, I've got it," he says, making his way carefully around the pillows and everything else, handing one of the plates to Hook.

"Ok," Hook says uncertainly, watching him as he holds his plate and can. Once Orange is safely seated next to him, he breathes a little easier, smiling at him. "So what episode are we starting with?"

"Season 1, episode 1," he says. "That alright?"

"Yeah," Hook says, glancing up as Orange presses play. "Egg salad, huh?" he asks, peeling the bread back enough to peek at the sandwich filling.

"Yeah," Orange says. "Oh." He reaches back, fumbling around a bit one-handed, before pulling two bags of chips from where they'd been waiting between the couch cushions. "Can't have a picnic without your favorite chips." He smiles as Hook claims the nearest one, immediately pulling it open and chewing on one of the top chips. "Good?"

"Yeah, thanks," he says, leaning back against the couch and sighing. "S'nice." He's been so stressed and all over the place emotionally the last month, it's good to just sit back and relax, let the opening minutes of The Last Of Us wash over him, eat these sandwiches and chips while Orange stares at the TV, as invested as he was the first time they watched this episode together. He smiles at him and lightly nudges him. "You really like this show, huh?"

"Yeah," Orange says. "Well, it... it's interesting, you know. Intense. Really a lot to think about with it."

"Moral quandary," Hook offers between bites, and Orange blinks, looking over at him.

"Yeah," he says. "Exactly that." He sips at his Diet Coke and leans a little more into Hook's warmth, enjoying the moment.

They're both done eating pretty early on in the first episode, and Hook rests his head on Orange's shoulder, watching as the show skips twenty years and Joel and Tess meet Ellie. "You think you'd survive something like this?" he asks after a minute, waving a hand at the screen.

Orange blinks, then exhales. "I'm not sure I'd want to," he says honestly, feeling Hook frown.

"Hmm?"

"It... it's always being scared," he says. "For yourself, for the people important to you. Having to live with the knowledge that something could happen, and they could just be gone without you being able to do anything to help them. Right? I don't think I'd want that constant... flight or fight adrenaline rush to have to live with." He exhales, glancing over at Hook. "The last year or so has been bad enough."

Hook's eyes soften, understanding dawning on him. "Yeah," he murmurs. Bookended by his concussions, first against Jericho, then now against the Death Riders, their lives have been marked by injury after injury after injury. "Makes sense. I probably wouldn't either." He can't imagine it, doesn't really want to- a world where most of the people he cared about were probably gone, lost to a disease or just violence by paranoid shoot-first-ask-questions-later types. Societal norms lost under the weight of it all, struggling just to maintain what little bit of sanity there has been to cling to for decades... "Yeah." He gives himself a rough shake, grounding himself in the reality of sitting next to Orange, in a candle lit room, watching a show that is decidedly fiction, the remaining soda in his can sloshing around as he holds it. Rocco asleep peacefully down the hall, his parents a short car ride away... the potential of returning to his career on the horizon. He leans in and kisses Orange. "Least we don't have to worry about it."

Orange hums, wrapping an arm around Hook, holding him close. "Yeah." They watch through episode two, pausing it a couple of times so Hook can look in on Rocco, still sleeping peacefully in their bedroom, and Orange can take a bathroom break- just to mysteriously return with heaping bowls of sherbet, Hook shaking his head fondly at him.

"You're spoiling me," he mumbles, taking the bowl offered to him.

"Best to do so while I still can," he says easily. "You're gonna be gone tomorrow, and then what? I'll have to sit around here and spoil Rocco? Impossible to accomplish in comparison to you and your mom."

Hook makes a face at him, then grins. "You know you've been anxious for a chance to. You don't get enough alone time with him as it is."

Orange rolls his eyes, swallowing down a decent spoonful of sherbet. "Trust me, I've had plenty of time with him."

"Pft," Hook says, clearly not believing him as they settle back down on the blanket, watching episode 2 come to its conclusion quietly.

"Well," Orange says, hesitating before starting episode 3. "Ready?"

It's a difficult, beautiful, haunting episode to watch, the one that had really attracted Hook's attention, kept his interest in the rest of the series. "Yeah," he says, finishing off his sherbet. "Ready."

Orange presses play and settles in close to him, Hook resting his hand next to Orange's, palm up, waiting. Orange's lips twitch and he obligingly slips his hand into Hook's, squeezing lightly. They sit in silence, watching as Bill is introduced, then Frank. Their relationship grows, builds into a life that spans over fifteen years despite their differences and the nonstop danger surrounding them, and then it all comes to a simple, subtle end, the two of them together. A rarely peaceful conclusion in such a traumatic, turmoil filled life.

Hook exhales and kisses Orange's jaw, curling up closer to him. He's watched it twice now and it still hits pretty hard, finding devotion and love in such a difficult, devastated world. He blinks when Orange slowly eases away, looking up at him as the screen goes dark, Orange shutting the TV off, leaving them with just the flickering candle light. "Hm?"
Orange scowls down at his arm before turning to look at Hook. "I wanted..." He huffs. "Well, I wanted to do more tonight, but rehab kicked my ass earlier, and I can't..."

Hook glances from the TV to Orange's arm, to the frustrated look on his face, some glimmer of an idea of what's going on coming to him. "Uh. What exactly did you wanna do?"

Orange exhales and looks away before Hook reaches out and cradles his jaw, guiding his face back over so they can stare into each other's eyes. "I just... I wanted, uh. I wanted to do..." He motions towards the TV and Hook's mouth eases into a smug little grin. "Oh shut up. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he drawls. "I do. Well, I think there's a way we can still do it, just a little different. If you wanna try."

Orange blinks, uncertain. "Uh. Ok?"

Hook plants his hand on Orange's good shoulder, lightly pushing him back. "Trust me," he says.

"Always," Orange responds, taking in how Hook looks in the soft light as he lounges back against the couch. "You're beautiful," he muses, reaching out to brush his fingers against Hook's jaw, up his cheek.

Hook blinks. "Yeah, ok," he says, laughing sheepishly, ducking his head as he leans into Orange's warmth.

Orange chuckles and rests his hands on Hook's sides, squeezing lightly. Trying not to think too much about how weak his grip strength on his right is to his left, still. Hook notices, though, and he searches Orange's face, a worried look in his eyes, before pulling his hoodie off and kicking his sweatpants away, settling in Orange's lap, running his fingers through Orange's hair, determined to distract him. "What're you doing?" Orange murmurs as Hook hovers, a few inches away from his lips.

"You'll see," he says, guiding Orange down to rest against the stacked pillows, giving him just enough height that when Hook rests his elbows against the couch and looks down, Orange has realized what Hook's end game is, and their eyes meet. "Yeah?"

"Hell yeah," Orange says, exhaling as he reaches up and crooks his fingers in the waistband of Hook's briefs, hearing his soft hiss as Orange guides them down his thighs and cool air brushes against Hook's skin. "Been awhile, huh?" he murmurs.

"Too long," Hook sighs, resting his face where his arms are folded against the couch cushion. "You sure you're alright with this?"

"Hell yeah," Orange repeats himself, pleased when Hook chuckles.

"Alri-" he starts to say, words failing him when Orange wraps his good arm around his hips and guides him down, finding the right angle to seal his lips around Hook, slowly moving his tongue over him. "Ah fuck," he groans, already hardening at the wet suction. "Ye- yeah... god." He sighs. "I forgot how good your mouth feels," he mumbles into his arms.

Orange hums, squeezing Hook when he gasps in response, the sensations sending liquid heat through Hook's veins. Hook twitches, obviously holding himself back, and Orange moves his arm, directing Hook into rolling his hips harder, faster, sending him deeper into Orange's mouth with each thrust.

Hook shivers and shifts, looking down. "Orange..." He moans at the sight, toes curling against Orange's thighs as he goes along with Orange's guiding movements. "Oh. Oh fuck." He digs his fingers into the grains of the couch cushion, shuddering through each slick thrust. "I... I'm..."

Orange peers up at him, what he can see from this angle, and twirls his tongue against Hook, pressing him in further, deep throating him. Hook makes a strangled noise as Orange swallows around him, thrusting up jerkily when his climax tears through him with next to no warning. Orange holds him in place, milking it out of him until he sinks into the couch, panting, spent. "Fuck," he mumbles, slowly easing back, letting Orange catch his breath as he wipes at his lips, eyes glinting in the flickering candle light. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Orange says, voice a little rough. "I'm great." He strokes Hook's sides, easing him down to relax against Orange's chest.

Hook hums and breathes into Orange's throat, sighing. "But, uh," he says, mind still working slowly, a little lost in the pleasure still rolling through him. "Um." He reaches down, fingers trembling slightly, touching Orange's sternum, lower. Down his abs, then curls around his erection, stroking him through his pants. Hook leans up and stares into his face, searching. "What do you wanna do?"

"Are you a little too..." Orange struggles to think as Hook works him over a little more, his head tipping back against the couch as he blinks at the ceiling, hips twitching with each ministration. "Shit. Too sensitive after...?"

"Nah, I'm fine for this," Hook says, nuzzling into him. "What do you want?"

Orange closes his eyes and breathes deeply as Hook takes the brief pause to begin undressing him, easing his shirt off and pressing kisses over his collar bone, gentle, careful to avoid his still healing side. "Um," he sighs. "You choose."

"I get to choose what you want?" Hook smiles between his pecs, pressing another kiss there. "I don't think that's how it works."

"Has to this time," Orange sighs. "I can't think straight."

"Huh," Hook says. "Which one of us got the blowjob?"

"Trust me, giving one can be pretty arousing too." He stares at Hook. "Knowing how good I'm making you feel by the way you react and the noises you make, the way you taste... yeah. Could probably come from that alone."

Hook considers this for a moment, then sets that little bit of information away for later. "Trust me?" he repeats himself, a question this time.

"Always," Orange echoes, watching through hooded eyes as Hook eases his pants down his hips. Hook smiles at him and finishes undressing him, leaning back to look at him lingeringly. "You ogling me now?"

"Yep," Hook says, teeth glinting as he grins at Orange. "Haven't gotten to do it a lot lately, give me a second."

"Yeah, ok," Orange sighs, relaxing back against the pillows and waiting as Hook looks his fill.

He glances up as Hook rests his hands on Orange's thighs, catching his eye. "Gimme one minute," he says, getting up.

"Hey, wait, where are you going?" Orange asks, huffing as Hook disappears down the hall.

"You may have been all prepared for picnics," Hook says as he comes back, a bottle hanging from the tips of his fingers. "But I guess neither of us expected tonight to go this way, huh. So now I've resolved that." He returns to Orange's side, waving the lube in front of him. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Orange says. "Who gets the honor?"

Hook smirks at him, pouring a generous amount over his hand before reaching down, slicking Orange up. "Told you to trust me," he says as Orange groans and thrusts up, trembling under Hook's touch. "You're pretty close, huh?"

Orange exhales sharply and glances at him. "Probably not going to last long, sorry."

"Mmm, that's ok, I'll forgive you," Hook says, resting his slick hand on Orange's stomach. "Try to relax."

Orange watches, wide eyed, as Hook straddles him. "Whoa, hey-" Before he can even come close to figuring out what to say, Hook sinks down, a tight look crossing his face as he eases down, exhaling shakily as he's filled inch by inch, Orange thinking again about how long it's been, how Hook hadn't prepped himself, how little lube he'd actually used. "Oh fuck," Orange mutters, reaching out and lacing his fingers with Hook's. "Just breathe. It's ok. Don't hurt yourself."

"Just wanted to feel it," he says slowly, eyes shut tightly as he squeezes Orange's hand. "Wanted to feel you. Been too... been way too damn long."

"I appreciate that, but-" Orange groans as Hook shifts, changing the angle and finally bottoming out, their bodies pressing flush together now. "Uhhhh, oh fuck-"

Hook hums, rolling his hips slowly, some of the tension fading from his face as he settles, grows accustomed to the feel of Orange inside of him. "God," he mutters. "You feel so good."

They're still holding hands when Hook lifts Orange's left, pressing kisses to his fingers, down his palm, ticklish, light. Teasing. He stares down at Orange, lit beautifully by the candles flickering nearby, and Orange trembles, a little overwhelmed by the sight of him, the feel of him, how slowly and carefully he's moving, taking great consideration in how he's making love to him right now. "Hook..."

He'd said he wasn't going to last long, with how keyed up he was already, but Hook seems determined to make it last, each movement slow, drawn out, almost gentle in its cadence. "Yeah," he says quietly, shifting forward, his lips parting at the new position, how it feels, new nerve endings lighting up, making him move faster, more desperate. "Shit."

"I've missed this," Orange murmurs, brushing his fingers through Hook's hair, feeling him nod, taking in the look in his eye that's somehow both adoring and hungry. "So much."

"Me too," Hook exhales, leaning in and pressing his lips to Orange's while still rolling his hips, harder, deeper, chasing both of their releases.

The kiss isn't very coordinated, this side of sloppy, but it adds to the building friction between them and Orange shivers, groaning as white stars dance in front of his eyes, his orgasm coming on suddenly and rocketing him to a blissful place where he's lost in the pleasure for what feels like a very long, drawn out time. When he slowly drifts back into reality, still thrumming, warm with endorphins and whatever else, he finds Hook sprawled out over him, equally as lost in the afterglow. "Damn," Orange mumbles, reaching up with shaky fingers and brushing through Hook's hair, waiting for him to reorient himself too.

After a couple minutes of soft silence, Hook blinks, stirring against Orange's chest. He sits up a little, then blanches, patting at Orange's side. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, glancing down at his still healing arm. "Fuck, I didn't mean-"

"No, no," Orange says, easing him back down with a soothing hand at the back of his neck. "You're fine, I'm fine. Shhh." He resumes running his hand through Hook's hair, helping him to settle back in. "See, all good," he says softly, kissing the top of Hook's head.

Hook makes a soft, uncertain noise, resting his hand lightly on Orange's injured side. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Orange murmurs. "I'm sure. You didn't hurt me."

Hook closes his eyes and nuzzles close, kissing Orange's jaw. "Ok, I'm glad," he says quietly. "I'd never wanna..."

"I know that," Orange says, smoothing his hand over Hook's hair, lightly carding his fingers through it. "I've never doubted that."

Hook smiles and sits up, trailing his fingers over Orange's jaw. "Think we should go to bed," he says reluctantly. "I've gotta get up early, meet up with Dad before our flight tomorrow and all."

"Yeah, ok," Orange says, idly tracing shapes in Hook's thighs. "One thing first? Promise me something?"

"What?"

Orange cradles Hook's face in his hands and stares deep into his eyes. "No matter what happens tomorrow, take care of yourself. I don't care what's happening, whether you get cleared or not, you do your absolute best to be safe. Alright?"

Hook reaches up and curls his fingers around Orange's wrists, nodding somberly. "I will do my best," he says. "I think Dad would kill me if something else happens."

"Well, I don't want that either," Orange says. "I just want you to come home, safe and sound. Alright?"

Hook nods, leaning in to kiss him. "Alright," he whispers. "I will do my absolute best to come home to you in one piece."

After collecting their clothes, Orange wanders around the room and blows out the candles before wrapping an arm around Hook, the two of them heading to their bedroom. Rocco stirs at their approach, stretching and yawning widely, staring up at them blearily.

Hook laughs, hoisting the puppy up into his arms and nuzzling him. "You gonna sleep some more with us, or are you gonna get the zoomies, huh?"

Rocco lets out a sleepy little whine, snuggling into Hook's arms. When Hook settles him back down on the pillows, he immediately circles a couple of times, then curls back up, almost immediately falling asleep.

"Guess that's your answer," Orange says, smiling as Hook rests his head on his shoulder.

"Guess so," he murmurs, pulling away to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Once they've both brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and changed into comfy clothes to sleep in, they tuck into bed next to Rocco. Hook lays flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling, his eyes roving around in the dark, tracing shapes in the shadows.

"Hey," Orange says, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Hook's waist. "You ok?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "Just, uh. I dunno. Thinking too much."

Orange nods, tucking in closer to him. "Wanna talk it out? Maybe it'll help."

Hook blows out a frustrated breath, then shrugs. "Dunno," he says. "Just, uh. You know. Last time I went to an arena, I got jumped from behind. Kinda... worried it might happen again, I guess."

Orange nods, kissing his jaw. "Yeah, I get that. Your dad's going to be with you this time, though, right?"

"Yeah," Hook murmurs. "He made me promise I ain't going anywhere without letting him know, until he's on commentary."

Orange nods. It's not a great solution, but it's the best they've got. "What about Shibata?" he asks. "Or..."

"No," Hook says. "I'm not botherin' him when he's preparing for Anarchy in the Arena. He needs to focus."

Orange sighs. "Alright," he says, tucking his face into Hook's neck, breathing in deeply. "I guess."

The last time, Hook had asked Orange to tell him that everything was going to be ok. This time, he doesn't want to put that on him. In case things go wrong, in case... well, just in case. So he lays it on his own shoulders, tries to resolve himself in what's going to happen the next 24 hours. Curls his fingers through Orange's soft blond hair, enjoying the soft, sleepy noise Orange makes when he soothes over his scalp. "I'm going to be ok."

It's not the easiest thing to convince himself of, but he does eventually drift off repeating that simple sentence over and over again.

-x

Hook wakes before Orange the next morning, watching him sleep for a few minutes before getting up. There's leftover egg salad in the fridge and he considers it for a minute before popping some bread into the toaster. When he hears Orange stirring a few minutes later, muttering to Rocco,he smiles and prepares the toasted egg salad sandwiches, piling plates full of them before setting them out on the island. He pours some juice while he waits and adds that to the display, looking up as Orange stumbles out, blurry eyed and messy haired.

"Hey," Hook says with a faint smile. "Breakfast?"

Orange squints at the sandwiches, then sinks down onto the stool with a sigh, nodding. "Yeah. Looks good," he mumbles, sipping from his juice as he tries to wake up.

Hook turns his focus onto Rocco, who comes out and noses at his dishes, whining. "Ok, just a second," he says, getting a can of wet food and putting it together with some dry food. "Here ya go." He pets Rocco before getting up to fill his water bowl too. Once everything's settled, Rocco lapping at the water happily, he sits next to Orange and takes a bite from his sandwich. For an impromptu idea, it's good.

"When are you leaving?" Orange asks after taking a couple of bites.

"Eager to get rid of me?" Hook asks, lips twitching up when Orange makes a face.

"Never," he says, reaching out and tapping Hook's hand.

"About an hour," Hook says, glancing at his watch. "Gotta go pick Dad up, our flight's at 10:30." Orange nods and they eat in quiet for a little while, Hook huffing out a laugh when Rocco finishes with his breakfast and wanders over, nosing around his feet, tickling him. "Rocco, c'mon," he says, poking at the puppy with his toes. He stuffs the last of his sandwich into his mouth and scoots off of the stool, kneeling down to hoist Rocco up into his arms. "You gonna be good for Orange while I'm gone? Hmm?"

The puppy squirms and licks at his face and Hook laughs.

"Guess I'll take that as a yes," he says, kissing the puppy's forehead with a loud smack. He enjoys as much time with Orange and Rocco as he can before he runs the risk of making his dad mad at him for being late, so he reluctantly hands over Rocco to a waiting Orange and heads into their bedroom to get ready for his first flight in a month and a half.

When he comes back out, dressed and with his backpack over one shoulder and pulling his suitcase along with the other hand, Orange meets him in the hallway and cups his face, kissing him slowly. "You take care of yourself," he says softly, resting his forehead against Hook's.

"You too," Hook murmurs, leaning into Orange's warmth for as long as he dares. "I gotta go," he says reluctantly, Orange nodding and backing away to give him space. "I love you."

"I love you too," Orange says, reaching down and scooping up Rocco before he can run forward and trip Hook up.

Hook reaches out and squeezes Rocco's paws, smiling down at him. "Love you too, little guy," he says fondly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Rocco whines, tilting his head, confused. He flails around a little, trying to go to Hook. Orange adjusts his grip on the puppy and smiles ruefully at Hook as he shoulders his bag and winks at them, heading for the door.

As soon as the door is closed behind him, Orange kneels down and puts Rocco down, watching wistfully as the puppy runs to the door, whining lightly and pressing his paws to the wood. "I feel ya," Orange sighs.

-x

It's not easy to leave, especially after the last couple of times, but Hook knows he can't just stay at the apartment forever, no matter how tempting it might be after the last couple of months. So he drives over to his parents' apartment and makes his way to their floor, smiling slightly as his mom opens the door to him. "Hi, mama."

"Hi, baby," she says, reaching out to hug him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing ok, mama," he says, hugging her back tightly. "Where's Dad?"

"Here," he says, walking into the living room with his own luggage. "You're cuttin' it close, kiddo."

"I'm five minutes early," Hook says with a sigh, Taz walking up and clapping him on the shoulder.

"He's fine, Peter," Mrs Senerchia says, shuffling aside so Taz can step out into the hallway.

"Eh," Taz says, lips twitching up as Hook rolls his eyes. "Good to see you, kid. Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he says, exhaling slowly, trying to ignore the anxiety that's been building within him since he'd left his apartment.

"Gonna be fine," Taz says. "I'm here if you need anything."

"Thanks, dad," he says, the two of them turning back to Mrs Senerchia.

Taz leans in for a quick kiss goodbye. "We'll call when we land," he promises her.

"You'd better," she says, patting his cheek. "Tyler, you call if you need anything, any time."

"I will, mama," he says, leaning in for another, quick hug before they leave her, heading for the elevator.

"How long do you think it'll take her to go visit Rocco and Orange?" Taz asks idly, while they're waiting for the elevator to make it to the ground floor.

Hook huffs out a laugh, shrugging. "Maybe an hour."

"Sounds about right." Taz smirks.

-x

All in all, the flight goes ok. Hook doesn't feel sick, his vision doesn't get fucked up, when he texts Orange, the light from the phone doesn't really hurt. He actually feels pretty decent by the time he gets to the arena for the evaluation. That is, until Taz reaches over and touches his arm. "Hang on a sec," he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialing a number, putting it on speakerphone while it rings in.

"What're you doing?" Hook asks, frowning over at him.

"You'll see," he mutters, straightening up a bit when the phone clicks in.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Schiavone," Taz greets his colleague. "How's it going?"

"It's going," Tony says. "What's up? Hook with you?"

"Yeah, he's here," Taz says. "Any sign of the Death Riders?"

There's some muffled background noise and Hook exchanges a look with Taz, who shrugs, the two of them waiting. "Sorry, had to ask Excalibur," Tony says. "He hears about more things than I do. No one's seen them, but you know how that is. They could be lurking anywhere."

"Yeah," Taz sighs. "Well, thanks, Tone.'

"How's Hook doing?"

"He can answer that himself," Taz says, tilting the phone towards Hook.

"Hanging in there," Hook says, thinking about the things Tony's said about him the couple of weeks following his injury. His confidence that Hook would return, become champion, all of that. "Hey, uh, thanks," he manages, feeling a little choked up. "For, for everything. You know- I, I heard what you said after I was taken out, and uh- I appreciated it."

Tony sounds warm, kinda fatherly when he speaks again. "I meant every word, Hook. Take care of yourself and I'll see you soon."

"See you," Hook says, staring ahead thoughtfully as Taz ends the call, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Well, I guess whether we have answers or not, we still gotta go." Despite saying so, Hook doesn't move, still staring blankly at the building.

"Kiddo?" Taz asks, trying to get him to focus once more. "You ready?"

"No," Hook says suddenly, gritting his teeth before turning to look at Taz. "No, no, uh. Look, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have dragged you into this, dad. You, you've already been taken out once because of me, so-"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Taz asks, frowning incredulously as he turns to stare at his son.

"Christian," he says. "He took you out because of me, and you had to get knee replacement surgery, and-"

"Kid, I needed that surgery for a long time, that asshole just... forced my hand, you know? It's not your fault, what happened that day. I never once blamed you."

Hook shrugs. "You might not have, but I blamed myself," he mutters, remembering the shit Christian had said afterwards- how he wanted Hook as his own son, how he'd wished Taz had di-

Taz reaches over and squeezes Hook's shoulder, distracting him from his thoughts. "Kiddo," he says softly. "It's gonna be ok, but we gotta get you inside, and I'm not leaving you alone. So we either go together, or we're staying in the car all night, and neither of us will uphold our obligations then. You don't want that anymore than I do. C'mon."

Hook sighs, glancing over at him. "Alright," he mutters, hand hovering over the doorhandle before pushing it open and stepping out of the car. Thankfully, nothing happens. They make it safely inside and Taz claps him on the arm, seeing him to medical. "Thanks, dad."

"You're welcome, kiddo," he says. "I'm gonna go catch up with Tony, see what's happening with commentary tonight. Text if you need anything."

Hook nods. "Will do," he says, stepping inside. It's early, so it's quiet inside, and one of the assistants walk up to him.

"Hey," she greets him with a brisk smile. "Ready to get started?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore his growing nerves. "Yeah," he says. "Let's do it."

Evaluation doesn't go as well as Hook had hoped. He feels a little breathless, a little achy, but he thinks some progress has been made, even if not as much as he'd wanted. He hangs his arms over the ring ropes and listens as the medical team discuss things, his eyes flickering around. Even here, surrounded by a lot of people, he feels vulnerable, like the Death Riders could slink out of the shadows and attack him again.

Thankfully, nothing happens and he leaves the ring safely, making his way backstage. He returns to medical and lets them examine him again, talking around him. He listens as best as he can, rehydrated with a big bottle of water, followed by another of a sports drink. Once he's feeling a little less shaky, they allow him to go. He walks carefully through the halls, keeping an eye out for anything... suspicious. Once he finds the commentary room, he knocks and waits until Tony answers it, his face immediately brightening.

"Hey, Hook, c'mon in." He steps aside and lets Hook in, Hook nodding at Excalibur before Taz looks up from where he's sitting, looking over some notes.

"Hey, kiddo, how was it?" he asks, shuffling his papers around before setting them aside and standing.

"Not fully cleared yet," Hook admits quietly. "But they say it's closer than it was." Taz looks as disappointed as Hook feels, but he changes the topic, too restless to go through it all again. "Hey, uh, I wanna get out of here for a little bit. Can I...?"

Taz digs around in his pockets until he finds the rental keys, holding them up. "Hang on," he says before Hook can reach out for them. He searches his son's face. "You're good to drive?"

"Yeah, Dad," he says. "Of course."

Taz hums. "If that changes, you pull over and call me," he says, tucking the keys into Hook's hand. "Alright?"

"Yeah, dad, of course," he says, gripping the keys tightly, grounding himself in the metal biting into his skin. "Thanks."

He leaves the arena, keeping a close eye on his surroundings as he goes and taking a deep breath once he's safely outside. He still hasn't heard anything concrete on where the Death Riders are, but he hopes they're too busy preparing for Anarchy in the Arena to care about him. Slumping into the driver's seat, he gives himself a minute just to settle, putting thick lens sunglasses on, relieved for some protection from the hot sun overhead. Starting the car up, he turns in a slow circle, heading towards the street. Merging into traffic, he drives around, looking for anything that might catch his eye, eager for a way to pass the time, take his mind off of still not getting the answers he wanted with this evaluation. Since he's so close to Vegas, every business he passes looks bright and loud, and risky considering how he's been feeling since leaving the ring after running the ropes and everything else they asked him to do.

There's a little shopping center off to the left and he turns, driving through it, just to see what's there. A dark red sign attracts his attention, and he blinks at it, reading it. "Savannah's Thrift," he murmurs, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel before turning the car into the closest free parking spot.

He and Orange have gone thrifting before a couple of times, but it's not really his thing. Even so, something draws him into the building and he looks around, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into his hoodie pocket as he walks around the aisles.

"Hello," a woman's voice calls from across the building. "How are you?"

He startles and looks up, finding a redheaded woman staring at him from a cash register by the wall. "Oh. Hi," he says awkwardly. "I'm good."

"Great. If you need anything, just yell." She smiles and goes back to organizing things at the desk, allowing him to proceed in peace.

There's a lot of clothes racks in the middle of the store, but he skirts around them, not really interested in anything there. There's a table full of delicate looking kitchenware and he casts a wary glance over them, but moves on. Nothing there looks that interesting, and although a couple of things might have gained his mother's attention, none of it looks really safe to get home on a plane ride, so he moves on.

There are bookcases along the walls and he thumbs through some of the titles, not seeing much until he pauses over a murder mystery, brows quirking thoughtfully. He peers at the dust jacket, reading the plot description, and considers if Orange would enjoy it- if it'd be an enjoyable thing for him to read aloud. He glances up at the other books and picks a couple more before wandering around the other shelves. There are games and random toys scattered around, and he barely glances at them on his way around. He's about to head to the counter and buy the books when something catches his eye and he stops, turning to look more clearly at it.

A storage container full of sports things are propped up against the wall and he blinks, heading over to it. There's a baseball bat poking out, and when he lifts it up, a bunch of different kinds of balls rattle around in the bottom. He peeks in at the various baseballs, golf balls, and tennis balls, lips twisting as he considers the bat, running his hand up and down it. It could be useful, or- His thoughts falter when he sees something else poking out of the container, hoisting it up. "A golf club," he murmurs, brows furrowing as he thinks. The Last Of Us is still fresh on his mind, and the idea is intriguing. Besides, there's nothing for lacrosse in the container. The baseball bat gets dropped back in with the rest and he curls his hand over the head of the club, examining it. It's strong, the silver head solid under his fingers and when he examines the shaft, it holds steady. The grip isn't frayed, and he nods, immediately deciding that this is what he wants.

Taking the lone club and the books, he makes his way up to the counter. The woman from earlier smiles at him. "Find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah, I think so," he says, still considering the golf club as she rings the books up. Handing it over, he slouches into his hoodie and waits until the reader is ready for him to swipe his credit card through. After signing his name, he collects the bag with the books in it and takes the golf club back. "Thanks."

"Have a nice day," she says cheerfully.

"You too," he says, shouldering the golf club as he walks out of the building. He pauses by the rental and moves, holding the golf club like he's about to swing it. "Huh," he mutters, adjusting his feet and holding it loosely, relaxing into the motion as he swings it, listening to the wind swish around it. It feels... fine, but not quite what he wants out of it. Lifting it back up, he grips the head and closes his eyes, imagining striking with it. Taking out the Death Riders one by one until it bends, until they break.

Opening his eyes, he tosses the golf club and the books into the backseat and drives back to the arena, a new determination in the set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. He's parked, staring up at the building, considering what to do- where, exactly, to go. His evaluation is over with, he doesn't need to go back to medical, but he doesn't really feel safe going to one of the main locker rooms either. The rare few he thinks might have his back are all busy with their own match prep, like Mark Briscoe, and he doesn't feel like bothering Shibata. He's still weighing what to do when his phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out of his hoodie, staring down at it.

Hey, kiddo, show's about to start, but if you're coming back to the arena soon, the commentary room's gonna be empty, you can hang out there if you want. Should be quieter than one of the locker rooms.

Hook closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, appreciation for his father always knowing what he needs welling up in his chest, leaving him a little emotional. Thanks, dad, he texts back, biting his lip as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket. Getting out of the car, he reaches into the back and pulls the golf club out, heading for the building. Thankfully, security barely blinks, probably told to expect anything- and allow most of it- with Anarchy in the Arena only a couple hours away. He makes his way quietly down the halls, keeping an eye- and ear- out for anything suspicious. His journey, however, is uneventful, and by the time he slips into the commentary room, his dad, Tony and Excalibur are already on TV, commentating the first Buy In match.

Hook turns the volume on the monitor down and slumps into a nearby chair, trying to breathe deeply and relax, letting the reality of being at a show for the first time in nearly two months ease over him. His new golf club is leaning against his knee, and Hook's eyes dart restlessly around the room as the show proceeds. He stays in the room and watches listlessly as match after match carries on. He hasn't really watched in weeks, since staring at screens for hours was just a bad, bad idea. It feels weird to catch up, alone in this room, but it's ok.

He sits up a little straighter, his fingers tightening around his golf club when Anarchy in the Arena officially begins and he watches as the Death Riders enter the arena from the outside, splitting up to take the fight to different areas. It's hard to get up, to go out, to put himself at risk again, but he can't just stay in this room and watch as the fight rages on. It's a little confusing to keep track of where everyone's fighting at, Hook careful to keep himself deep in the shadows whenever brawls creep backstage close to where he's standing by the curtains.

Then the music starts. Hook cringes and steps back, making sure he can still see the monitor, but trying to muffle the sound enough that he won't completely freak out. It's some loud melody, sounds like a video game tune, and he grimaces, gripping his golf club even harder when the song changes to the Pointer Sisters, and he grits his teeth, squinting at the screen.

That's not the last change, though, Hook's skull pounding with repetition after repetition after repetition of Drowning Pool that follows Kenny Omega's demand that they change the music. He gasps and grits his teeth against the pain, feeling almost as sick as he had the first time he'd been attacked and could barely stop throwing up. "Shit," he gasps, struggling just to stay upright.

He's not sure how long, exactly, he remains in this particular hell, the music constantly pulsing through him, leaving him lost in a flood of agony, but suddenly, thankfully, it stops. The abrupt rush of silence leaves his ears ringing but he can kind of, sort of, think a little easier, turning back towards the monitor, trying to figure out what's happening at ringside. He keens, squinting against the light, finally focusing enough to realize- Claudio is storming towards the ring, and Joe is alone inside, and- and...

First Claudio takes me out... then he takes Shibata out, and now... now... Hook doesn't remember moving from the monitor, he doesn't remember sprinting down the ramp, but he does remember standing at ringside, grabbing Claudio by the leg and sweeping him off of the apron, sending him back down to the floor. Claudio stares at him and Hook slams the golf club, which thankfully he'd somehow held onto through all of this, into Claudio's stomach. Then he wraps his fist around the head of the club, trying to make sure his aim is true, and clocks Claudio right in the jaw with it. As Claudio collapses, Hook pulls his hood down and stares up at Joe, who's standing against the ropes, staring at him.

As soon as he realizes it's Hook, Joe's face lights up and he motions at him to come into the ring to join the brawls still breaking out here and there.

Hook's eyes are locked on Joe's shirt, the Opps logo blinding even in the glare of the lights overhead, taunting him, especially the "NEVER LACKING" portion. Leaving him feeling even more sick than he does already. He looks up at Joe, shakes his head decisively, shoulders the golf club, and makes his way back up the ramp while the match roars on behind him.

Walking through the halls is slow going. He's dizzy, his balance is off, the only thing that feels real is the cold handle of the golf club against his shoulder. He wavers, unsure where to go. The locker room is out, he can't stomach going back to the commentary room, medical is the absolute last place he wants to go. Right now, all he really wants is fresh air, to try to steady himself, so he stumbles towards the exit. Towards the parking lot.

He makes it to the outer edge of the building and slumps down, his golf club slipping from numb fingers. He can see his dad's rental from here, and he thinks he's hopefully out of sight, in case someone should come after him for revenge. He's not sure if Anarchy is finished yet, or how many matches are left for the night, but he hopes it won't be too much longer before the show ends and his dad comes out so they can leave, back to the hotel so Hook can sleep this off. Again.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting there, biting the sleeve of his hoodie to keep from verbalizing just how bad his head is still throbbing, when he registers heavy footsteps approaching. When they're still heading his way, almost on top of him, he tenses up and grabs the golf club, twisting to stand up, ready to blindly swing at whoever it is coming to attack- when a hand reaches out and curls around his wrist, stopping him before he can even attempt to defend himself. Hook shudders and opens his eyes, squinting towards the person only just visible in the light coming by the doors. "Joe?"

"Yeah, kid, easy," Joe says, squeezing his arm. "You're alright, put the golf club down."

Hook shivers and lets it clatter to the ground, grimacing. "Fuck."

Joe examines him, brows furrowing. "What's wrong? Did someone-?"

"Headache," he grits out. "I was ok, but then- Drowning Pool."

Joe's eyes widen in realization and he grips Hook's arms, guiding him back to where he was sitting. "Alright, relax. I've got you, kid." He snags the golf club and sets it against the wall next to Hook, before sitting next to him. "You feel this bad and you still came out," he says after a few moments of Hook burying himself in his hood, miserable.

Hook exhales shallowly and nods gingerly. "Yeah, well," he mumbles. "I, uh. I saw you alone in the ring, Claudio coming with the chair, and I just- I couldn't let it happen again. I told you I wanted to finish things my own way."

"Yeah," Joe says, staring at what little of his face he can see. "You did." He takes a deep breath and reaches out, tugging the hood back and gingerly resting his hand on Hook's neck, carefully, trying to slowly knead the tension out of the muscles there. "Damn, kid." He sighs. "You're a mess."

Hook sniffs and slumps down further, his breathing sounding loud to his own ears as Joe continues to work him over, fingers moving up the back of his head towards his temples, then back down his neck. "Where's Shibata?" he mumbles after a few minutes, melting back into Joe's touch.

"His hand got sliced up pretty bad," Joe says. "Medical's checking him out, he should be out in a few minutes."

"Ok," Hook murmurs, eyes closed. He notices, vaguely, when Joe's phone chimes and Joe shifts next to him, answering the text. "Shibata?"

"Yeah, he's on his way," Joe says. They're still sitting there a few minutes later when the arena door opens and someone walks towards them, Joe tensing up slightly as he turns to look.

"It is me," Shibata says, stopping in front of them. "Hello, Hook."

"Hey," he says quietly, not moving to look up at him.

Shibata frowns at Joe, who shrugs. "He has a headache. Drowning Pool on repeat wasn't the best thing for him back there." He continues kneading at Hook's neck, and Shibata sighs.

"I see," he says, sitting carefully down on the other side of Hook, effectively sandwiching him in between them. They sit for awhile before Shibata leans in to try to catch Hook's eye. "We can take you back to the hotel, if you want," he says. "You do not need to sit here until the show is over."

"No," he mutters. "No, I- I told Dad I'd wait for him, I said-"

"It's ok," Joe intercedes. "There's not much left of the show, we can wait out here with you, kid. Don't worry about it."

Hook shivers and nods, scrubbing at his face. "You don't have to," he mumbles. "I can... I'll be alright, you should-"

"It is fine," Shibata says. "We are not leaving you out here alone." He grips Hook by the shoulder, still searching his face. "Come here, my friend." He guides Hook over until he's resting against Shibata, head on his shoulder, and Shibata cards his fingers lazily through Hook's hair, taking over where Joe had left off in trying to sooth his tense muscles, ease his headache enough that he can sleep. "Get some rest. We will let you know when Taz comes."

Hook exhales slowly, closing his eyes. Turns everything over to Joe and Shibata for a little while, unable to think straight while his body sinks into exhaustion.

He's not sure how much time has passed when Shibata lightly nudges him awake, but it's darker, a little cooler, so he knows it's been awhile. He sniffs and sits up, blinking sluggishly. "Hmm," he grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. Eventually he blinks and focuses on the shadows before him, squinting. "Dad?"

"Yeah, kiddo," Taz says, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "You ready to go back to the hotel, get something for your headache? Maybe something to eat?"

Hook sits for a minute, feeling the slight ache still creeping up his neck into his skull. "Yeah," he manages sleepily. He looks over and finds Joe still sitting on his right, Shibata to his left, and exhales slowly. "Thanks for staying," he mumbles, brushing at his nose.

"We told you we would," Shibata says, standing and turning towards him, hand outstretched. Hook accepts the help, pulling himself to his feet. He breathes a little easier when his balance actually holds, Hook not feeling as dizzy as he had earlier.

Once he's up, Joe stands too and curves his hand over Hook's neck again, squeezing lightly. "We'll see you soon, kid," he says. "Take care of yourself."

Hook nods. "See you," he says quietly and steps towards his dad, Taz resting a hand on his back as they walk slowly towards the car.

Taz hovers by the passenger side, tucking Hook's sunglasses in his hand, waiting until his son puts them on. "Alright?" he asks, pulling the seatbelt over and clicking it into place, checking on how much give it has around Hook's chest.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Let's get out of here."

"Sounds good to me."

Hook doesn't remember much of the drive to the hotel, keeping his eyes closed and trying not to focus too much on the constant stop and start motion as Taz makes it through the traffic heading away from the arena. "Almost there," he says at one point, reaching over and squeezing Hook's forearm. "Still with me?"

"Yeah," Hook sighs.

"Good." Taz turns his focus back to driving and thankfully, they come to a stop a few minutes later, Taz turning the car off and twisting to look at his son. "Stay here, I'll come around and help."

"Kay," Hook says listlessly. He fumbles around with his seatbelt, only just managing to unclick it as Taz makes it over, opening the door for him. He squints up at his dad and scoots out of the car, planting a hand on the warm metal of the car roof as he gets his footing.

"Got it?"

"Mm hmm," Hook says, then falters. "Uh, I have stuff in the backseat," he says, turning back to the car.

Taz shakes his head and rests a hand on Hook's back, guiding him around. "I'll get it after we get you settled in the room. C'mon, kiddo."

"Alright," he sighs, making his way inside slowly. Taz guides him to the elevator, keeping an eye on him through the ride up to their floor, then down the hall to their room. After he unlocks the door, he walks with Hook over to the bed and waits while Hook slips his hoodie off and sinks into bed, letting out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

Taz pulls the sheets up, tucking him in, and Hook blinks up at him balefully. "I'll be right back," he says, nudging Hook's jaw with his knuckles carefully.

"Kay," he sighs. He rolls over and tucks his arm under one of the pillows, hugging it close. He drifts, listening as Taz leaves, the door slamming shut behind him making Hook flinch a little.

Time passes and Taz returns, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Hook, shuffling through the bag. "The fuck are these books?" he mutters, Hook's lips twitching up as Taz places them on the bed, with enough space that Hook won't knock them off if he moves around in his sleep.

"They're for Orange," he murmurs into the pillow.

"Of course they are," Taz sighs, rubbing Hook's back. "Hey, kiddo."

"Mmm?"

"Here." He finds Hook's hand and tucks his phone into it.

Hook squints at it and realizes it's dialing, putting it to his ear. "Hello?" he asks when it clicks.

"Hey, handsome," Orange says softly. "Saw you during Anarchy earlier. How are you?"

"Not great," he admits. "Headache."

Orange hisses. "Yeah, the music was rough," he says sympathetically. "Is it any better?"

"Yeah, kinda," Hook murmurs, fumbling around for one of the books next to him. "I went thrifting earlier, and bought you books."

"That's where the golf club came from," he says fondly. "I wondered. Only you would turn into Abby on The Last Of Us finale day."

Hook huffs out a weary laugh. "Thought you might appreciate that," he says.

"You want me to read to you when you get home tomorrow?" he asks. "You are still coming home tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Hook says softly. "Just gotta sleep this off. I'm not missing my flight in the morning. I miss you and Rocco."

Orange sighs. "We miss you too," he says. "You sleep well, I'll see you in the morning."

"Ok," Hook murmurs. "See you then."

"Love you."

"Love you too. Bye," Hook says, blinking slowly.

"Bye," Orange murmurs.

Once the call ends, Hook rolls over towards his dad's side of the room. "Thanks," he says. "I needed that."

"I figured," Taz says with a small smile. "When I'm not feeling well, your mama's voice is the only one I really wanna hear."

Hook hums. "Yeah," he says softly. "G'night, dad."

"Night, kiddo." Taz reaches over and shut the lamp between their beds off, settling into bed himself.

Hook tries to relax, tries to let the lingering adrenaline from Anarchy and everything that came from it ease off. To breathe. He can still remember the feel of Joe's fingers on the back of his neck, how he'd felt when he'd seen Claudio going after Joe with the chair, uncertainty still weighing on him, making his head ache a little worse.

He's not sure what's next, really, but for now, getting home to Orange and Rocco is his priority. Exhaling, he sinks into the pillows and closes his eyes, settling as sleep finally, slowly, claims him.