Chapter Text
“What are you gonna do with that stupid cut out, Matty?”
“Burn it. Ya should burn it out back so we can start a bonfire.” Jeff’s voice cut in from a slight distance, as he was flopped over the length of one of the living room couches.
You threw him an amused look in a sideways glance before focusing back on the older brother, whom was sitting across from you at the kitchen island.
“Like when we were teenagers, right?” You chuckled lightly as you reminisced, though your brows furrowed at the serious look on Matt’s face.
“See, that’d be a good idea, only letting her play any part in our fun now would be too good. Plus, she’d just taint the marshmallows and fuck up our s'mores.” He replied.
You scrunched your nose and crossed your arms.
“When you put it that way— I don’t want that bitch touching anything I put in my mouth.”
Jeff’s leg suddenly appeared, knee hooked around the back of the couch as he yanked his torso up to peek over at you two. He was damn flexible— and currently smirking a smug lil smirk at you.
“Lucky for me, she-who-must-not-be-named never touched me,”
Y/N cocked a brow up at the remark.
“Uuuh huh. I seen her give you plenty of hugs.”
Jeff mirrored your expression and threw a momentary glance down south.
“Not what I meant, sweetie pie.” Normally his adorable accent uttering his nickname for you made you all giddy, but in this case you just shook your head and tried giving Matt a sympathetic look for falling into Jeff’s antics.
The thing was, Matt seemed like he hardly paid attention to the ordeal at all; stranger yet was the slow smile creeping across his face. A small tilt of your head reminded him that you couldn’t exactly hear whatever it was that was going on in his mind.
“I got an idea. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
…
That idea turned out to be a quite wonderful “reenactment” of the pair’s breakup. Dramatized as all hell but all parts equally hilarious.
The aforementioned cutout was dragged into one of the bathrooms, standing tall just by the toilet (which probably needed some cleaning). It was just the perfect setting for such a high class gal.
Midway through the first part of Matt’s ingenious segment - only just beginning here in the bathroom - you pointed down at the toilet, plugged your nose, and then points at Matt in a silent gesture you hoped he’d understand. As badly as you wanted to say it outright, it would only ruin the entire take.
Matt had seen it in his peripheral vision and wasted no time blurting: “Listen, every time I come in here and need to do a number 2? I’ll leave it in there and then lock the door.”
You nearly fainted, the camera shaking the tiniest bit until another hand came from behind you to steady it. Jeff grinned down at you from over your shoulder before putting a finger to his lips and taking over filming duty. Biting the inside of your mouth to push down your impending laughter, you patted Jeff’s shoulder as a sign of gratitude.
…
Filming went on for at least a couple hours - mostly cause of all the breaks coming up with what part to do next or the downright shenanigans the three of you ended up getting distracted with, one of which was aggressively having a competition on who could draw the nastiest shit on any one of the Lita posters around the house. Some Matt had actually bought and some either fans or Lita herself had gifted.
Let’s just say you all had livid imaginations and drew much worse things than the classic mustache and devil horns.
“Heh, honestly I wouldn’t doubt that one to be true to size.” Jeff suddenly spoke, gazing down at your newest work of art. On one of the posters you had drawn a rough outline of a dick - a very small and lob sided one - and labeled it in big red letters “EDGE’S WEENER.”
“Unlike his big teeth,” Matt added. “I’d pay money and bet his dick ain’t got nothing on me.”
Yes, the three of you long time friends often got vulgar in your conversations, but perhaps the couple beers along the journey were helping you all along.
“Yeah, I bet. That’s probably why I shot the motherfucker down without even hesitating. Call it female intuition.” You let out a biting laugh, tapping your marker against your chin in thought of what to do next.
Abruptly the low snickers amongst your group ceased, however, and both boys blinked up at your oblivious form.
“Wait-”
“When was this?”
“Only maybe a month ago? Probably less. That bug-eyed blond never knew when to stop trying to impress.”
Matt capped his marker with a certain vigor, boring holes into the pieces of paper piled between you.
“That bastard.”
“Shit. Was that why you rushed into my dressing room so quick? You did seem a little off -” Jeff recalled the memory of your tight greeting hug in a split second, smiling tensely but making a strangely angry expression with his eyebrows. He was glad to remember your encounter but not so with the why.
“But anyway, it doesn’t matter now. If I bump into him anywhere outside of work I’ll be giving him a piece of me alright — my fist up his ass.” Pursing your lips you set your marker down as well, slowly realizing you lost the cap at one point.
Matt balled a fist and sent Jeff a silent look— they both felt a sweep of rage but decided now wasn’t the time to up and track the dude down or anything. The older brother sighed heavily, collecting himself for a short time and rubbing his eyes.
He knew he’d have plenty of time to get back on Edge in the ring.
Meantime, Jeff crawled closer to you, his hands wrinkling the stack of posters on the ground as he did.
“What’re you-”
“Ya got marker on your cheek,” He licked his thumb and deftly reached forward to rub the small dot from your face, lucky it hadn’t fully saturated yet.
Matt cleared his throat and stood up, gathering most of the posters in his arms as he did.
“Alright, I got a better idea.” His voice was a bit gravely, like he was holding something back as his dark eyes lingered on the pair of you (still too close for his comfort) longer than was wise. Jeff dried off his thumb on his shorts and stood too, helping you up by the elbow.
As it were, that ‘better idea’ was probably not the smartest activity for a trio of semi-drunk adults to be doing: target practice on the newly decorated posters; however, sensibility had never stopped you all from having a blast.
“Film this for me,” Matt instructed, snapping the magazine into his handgun and setting the weapon up properly before taking aim for the first shot.
Jeff had officially become cameraman since the bathroom, and stood a safe distance away with you by his side. He threw up his Hardy sign to let Matt know he was good to go.
Matt fired away, at least five shots ringing out and definitely hitting their general mark.
“Daaaang, right in the face!” You praised, at this point caring less and less for the actual video y'all were trying to make for the show. After Matt fired a few more and emptied the thing, you stepped into the frame and got close to him.
“Hey, lemme shoot some.”
“I dunno if that’d be wise, short stuff.” Matt let a half smile creep up when you put one of your smaller hands over the one that was holding the gun.
“C'mon, I went shooting with you before!”
Jeff hit stop on the record button and set the device down on the grass.
“Go on, let her do it, Matt. Who’s it hurtin’?”
Matt’s lips made a straight line and he loosened his grip on the empty weapon. The moment it left his hand completely you felt the full weight of it and had to grip it tighter; playing it off as nothing you watched as he dug the rest of the bullets out of his pocket.
“Alright. I’ll let ya if those little hands of yours remember how to load this up,” He handed over the handful before setting his hands on his hips.
“I have average sized hands. Not my fault your’s are massive in comparison,” His amused grunt only made you more determined to prove him wrong.
After you successfully pressed each of the bullets into the magazine you beamed up at the taller male, and quickly turned your body toward the same target as before. You did remember all the basics and made sure to pull it back and take the safety off—
“There’s a bit of a kick in that one, so you best position yourself better than that,” The aforementioned, massive hands gently nudged your hips so they were aligned with the gun, followed by a light tap from one of Matt’s feet to the inside of your heel to get you to spread your stance a tad.
There was warmth from his chest against your back that caused you to swallow and moisten your oddly dry throat.
“Where’re ya aiming for?” He murmured, his face close but his eyes trained forward.
Did he seriously not realize how this was making you feel?
Only sparing him a lightning fast glance (also noticing Jeff was still standing only ten feet away, tapping his foot sporadically), you took a breathe and squinted your eyes, “Where it would probably hurt the most.”
“The crotch?”
The assumption lightened your mood, but you still let out a harsh huff and readjusted your sin again.
“No, the vagina isn’t the equivalent to your balls— I was thinking more the boobs, if you were a woman and ever been punched in one of em, you’d understand.”
“Hurts that much?”
“I can’t say, I’ve never been kicked in the balls, so,” You retorted snidely, slowly pulling the trigger and - possibly - striking right where you meant. You honestly weren’t sure since Matt wasn’t joking about the recoil on that thing, and you would’ve been rocked had it not been for his body being right behind you.
“Geez,” You rubbed your shoulder lightly, and Matt went to take it away from you. “No, no, I still wanna shoot. You just make it look all easy!”
“I try,” he chuckled, flexing playfully.
“Oh, sure, pretend I’m not here. And you call us lovebirds, huh, Matt?” Jeff straight up whined, his mouth as slanted as his stance.
“Shut up, Jeff. I was just lookin’ out for, Y/N. What are you doing?”
Watching the boys bicker was a favorite pass time of yours, but right now any and all hostilities were to be toward the common enemies. You bumped your hips back, catching Matt off guard when your butt came in contact with his body and pushed him a step away.
Jeff seemed equally shocked if his open mouth was any indicator.
“Thanks, but now that I know what to expect I can take care of it myself. Stop fighting. I just wanna get some prep in before my big match with our guest of honor.”
Matt dusted himself off and pinched the tip of his nose in passing, waving his hand forward to let you continue.
On the next RAW in a couple days you were absolutely sure Lita would be in for a real life beating … no guns, but certainly a truck load of bruises.
…
…
…
You decided to sleepover at Matt’s house for the night, mostly due to both brothers insisting you shouldn’t drive back to your home, even if it was only half and hour away. Jeff was staying over at the house as well, since he had some complaints about just being home alone when he knew his best friends were right across the woods.
“G'night, babe.” You gave Jeff a snug hug, already set for bed in your cotton PJ shorts and black tanktop (which had the Hardy logo printed across it). The casual pet names were half due to the longevity of your friendship and half due to the off and on TV relationship.
“Night, darlin’.” He whispered back, arms squeezing your waist to him before releasing you.
Spinning on your heel you saw Matt partially turned away, hand rubbing his neck.
“Hey, you weren’t thinking of going to bed without saying sweet dreams were you?” Arms spread wide, you shuffled to him and were happily met by a warm embrace.
“'Course not.”
Pulling back from the hug your fingers softly patted his cheek. “Lighten up, kay? You’ll be over her soon enough and I promise to punish her for her sins on RAW.”
“I’m countin’ on it,” Matt smirked shortly, watching while you nodded and skipped off to the guest bedroom.
Just before you swung the door shut, your ears caught Matt cooing 'Sweet dreams,’ followed by Jeff with a 'Don’t let the bed bugs bite … too hard,’ closed with a sharp laugh and the sound of a swat to the head.
Once you were gone the brothers were left to themselves in the living room.
“So,”
Matt looked to his brother, who was hesitant on how to continue.
“So?” Matt pressed. “You don’t gotta ask me how I’m doing. I’m fine, really.”
Jeff chewed his lip, staring at his knees when he sat down.
“Yeah, a little too fine. It’s only been a week and you’re already movin’ on, huh?”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “And you mean what by that?”
“Outside? With Y/N? You seemed like you were awful cozy pressin’ against her like that.”
Offended and surprised, the older Hardy took a step toward the latter, sitting on the chair just in front of him.
“You’re butt hurt over that?”
“Don’t act like that wasn’t something,”
“It was nothing. I thought I told you I was just worried about her,” Matt spoke with a sharp tongue, getting more annoyed when Jeff’s green eyes challenged his own brown ones. Having a baby brother, he was plenty used to brattiness or whatever else, but he’d never seen Jeff act so sensitively.
“So you’re tellin’ me you didn’t like it the tiniest bit when you had her pressed against you like that? You weren’t blushin’ red when she bumped ya?”
Matt was bewildered by the calm, but biting little jabs, and massaged his temples to keep his cool.
“What - what the hell’s up with you, Jeff?”
“Nothing.” Jeff’s brows seemed to relax, and he ran a harsh hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”
They sat in silence for at least a full minute then.
“…Just be honest with me, would ya?” Jeff almost thought the words were his own, since he had been thinking to say the same thing, only it came from the other.
“Alright.”
Matt cleared his throat, flicking his eyes toward the direction you had disappeared to.
“Do you like, Y/N?”
Jeff’s eyes went downcast at the question, but he knew there wasn’t any chance of him lying. Not to Matt. “If you’re askin’ I think that means you know the answer.”
“Known for awhile. You’re not the best actor—” Matt tried to chuckle, “But whenever it was a segment with her I always believed every word. And even before then it was like you two always had a spark, or somethin’ like that.”
Nearly smiling, but stopping midway, the younger brother moistened his lips to speak. “Funny, I could’ve said the same thing about you.”
There was another silence, only more brief.
“Jeff, I—”
“You don’t gotta explain. I don’t blame you either.”
“No, I wanted to tell you, honestly,” Matt scooted to the edge of his chair, dipping his head and making sure he had eye contact when he said this. “I like Y/N as a friend,”
He truly meant to comfort his baby brother - basically deny his assumptions, set the record straight, and make sure Jeff would end up happy… even if that meant pretending he didn’t care about you the way he actually did. The way that he had only just realized… almost as soon as he’d broken up with Lita.
“But as a woman, I just…”
He truly meant for this to go smoothly and be easy, but then again he really wasn’t a good actor and this was one of the biggest lies he would ever tell. Still… Matt managed, if only because of the increasingly concerned expression melting onto the enigma’s face. Jeff was stressed, swearing he knew what Matt wanted to say.
“— I just love… our relationship now. I can’t picture myself with Y/N, but I can picture her with you.”
Matt’s heart strained against his ribs, beating erratically.
“That’s… that’s good to hear, comin’ from you.” Jeff spoke quietly, such a hurricane of emotions racing through him. As much as he wanted to believe Matt’s words, they both knew that they knew each other too well for that.
…
…
The Following RAW Event
…
…
You took a deep breath for the hundredth time, tightening the laces on your boots purely out of passing the time and not because you had to.
Your match with Lita was up next since your backstage interview about it already past, but as much as you’d been looking forward to giving Lita a good ass-whoopin’ it was impossible to keep your head focused where it needed to be.
That night you slept over at Matt’s house you had heard everything.
Alright, maybe not every tiny bit, but you’d heard the important parts… at the end. You had opened your door to get the glass of water you’d forgotten on the kitchen counter, but stopped right in the doorway when you heard the tense conversation between your two closest friends.
Needless to say, what you’d heard had left questions for yourself more than anyone else.
Jeff basically admitted he liked you… and not just when you two had segments on TV. And Matt? Matt was basically trying to set you two up but… why did he have to sound like that?
You felt torn between feeling elated that Jeff felt that way, Matt fully supporting it — and feeling hurt that Matt couldn’t even imagine a relationship with you. But you couldn’t even see their faces then and you still didn’t believe a word Matt said.
Was it conceited to believe that both of them might feel the same way about you?
After all these years, you’d always known they were both adorable - well - attractive … above average in personality and looks and you knew all three of you had always been protective of one another but… how had you never considered it being more than that?
And why in earth could you not imagine it only being with one of them?
Fuck.
You felt guilty. Like some skank that just wouldn’t be satisfied —
“Do you need some help with that, Angel Face?”
The last person you had on your mind, Johnny freakin’ Nitro, stood in front of you, eyes going from the toes of your boots upward to your face. Apparently some time in your thoughts you’d managed to untie your laces. The cocky son of a bitch still had on those sunglasses of his, the accessory not unlike the smirk he always wore.
As much as you didn’t care for him, at least his presence - unable to be ignored due to his obnoxious nature - was able to turn your internal dilemma into the fiesty fury that you needed in the ring.
Unfortunately, that brief moment of speechlessness was taken kindly as an invitation, Nitro kneeling down and beginning to tighten your laces and loop them around his fingers; you straightened your leg and pushed him back by the chest, huffing.
“I don’t think I remember saying yes to that help, Johnny.”
“Well, you looked up at me all dreamy so I thought—”
“Never assume what a lady wants.”
His hand rested gently on the underside of your ankle, as if he still thought you’d let him touch you.
You flicked your ankle to have him let go before you propped your leg up on the crate you were sitting on to redo the ties yourself. He still decided to stick around, aside from being given your outright rejection, his eyes still downcast while he stood to full height.
Once your laces were taught you swung your legs off and landed soundly, though Johnny’s body was still too close for comfort. To make matters worse, he leaned over to settle a hand on the spot you’d just been sitting, lowering his sunglasses so he could peek down at you.
“You need something still?” You hissed, rolling out your shoulders and standing your ground, casually.
“Wondering if you were busy after the show, is all, Y/N.”
“Aw, I didn’t know you and Melina were having issues,” You tilted your head, feigning a look of pity.
“Oh, we’re not. But that’s just for the story line, I’m still as single as can be, sweetie pie,” His intent was obvious, he even mimicked Jeff’s drawl — or tried to — when using the pet name Jeff had always used for you.
The tiny detail had you seething more than even you expected.
A loud smack resounded down the near empty hall way, the singular sound joining it coming from Johnny’s glasses sliding across the ground.
“Jesus, I was just trying to be nice to y—”
“Fuck off, Nitro.”
A familiar pair of hands, adorned in black and white arm bands, yanked Johnny the rest of the way away from you, Jeff taking the place at your side.
“Touchy,” Johnny complained, rubbing his reddening cheek. He went to pick up his sunglasses only to have them kicked away by the other Hardy, who was standing stiffly.
“Think you’re better off without the stupid things anyway,” Matt crossed his muscular arms. “Don’t you got an interview with your girlfriend Melina soon?”
Johnny sighed, resigning himself with annoyed crack of his neck.
“I still think you can do better than either of these assholes,” He directed at you over his shoulder, strutting away.
Jeff’s warm hand stroked your arm; your E/C eyes went to him. All your distracted thoughts from before Nitro’s interference started rushing back quick— and you found yourself glancing over at the older Hardy too, pursing your lips uncomfortably.
“You alright?” Jeff asked, not used to you not being so quiet.
“Mhm.” You scratched your shoulder, toying with the strap of your top now.
“That guy messed with you before, Y/N? If he ever over steps again you just tell me, I’ll drop kick him half way across the country,” Matt added, brows knitted together.
“No, that’s why I was thrown off. I took care of it though, and I’ve taken care of worse than him, you guys.”
Jeff wet his lips, “Yeah.. well. You did slap him damn good. If I remember the last time you hit me correctly I know he’ll feel that one tomorrow too.”
“Lucky I’ve never pissed off Y/N enough for her to smack me.” Matt grinned, noticing your eyes darting between them.
Down the hall toward the curtain, Lita’s theme music finally hit. That was your cue to leave — and as much as you loved your.. friends, you were glad to jump into the ring and let off some steam.
“Gotta go, boys. I’d say wish me luck but I think Lita’s gonna need it more than me.”
…
Had you mentioned that your match held a no disqualification stipulation?
Well, that was true.
The match between you two women had the crowd riled up for more reasons than one, and had been going on at least a solid fifteen minutes as it were. Lita was catching her breath in the opposite corner to you, rubbing her side that had been gifted several stiff elbows.
You dropped down and rolled out of the ring, debating between a steel chair or a kendo stick.
Thus far the match up was fairly even— not as one sided as you might’ve dreamed; however, you saw red when Edge’s music hit. Creative had warned you of interference, or a possible light distraction, but having been so dedicated to not dying you’d almost forgotten.
Edge didn’t go any farther than half way down the ramp, yelling something or other to his new lady— you wished someone had yelled a warning to you instead though, since the moment your eyes shifted back to the opponent she was already flying over the ropes and tackling you to the ground.
A loud grunt only solidified the pain that shot up your back.
“Damnit…”
A few rowdy fans on the barricade whooped your name, drumming their hands on their knees for motivation.
Getting on your stomach and lifting up your torso with your elbows, you flashed them a thumbs up before crawling to the ring apron to retrieve an item of punishment. Hand reaching blindly, it caught cold steel.
“Hey, Lita?” You panted, glaring up at her form that was limping toward you, “I ain’t apologizing for this either!”
Swinging the chair out without mercy, you swept her legs and got her to her knees; adding three more solid whops to her back before Edge started coming toward you, you smiled wildly and threw the partially opened chair right toward his face, knocking him out for long enough.
You dragged Lita’s wincing body back to the ring, leading her to the center and grabbing a handful of her burgundy hair.
“Do you at least regret what you did to him?”
Your voice was for her, but loud enough for the crowd up front to comprehend.
She dared meet your eyes, “We’re both better off,” she spat.
Figures.
Releasing her hair, you slapped her face with between both hands then spun around to run toward the ropes - push off of them for leverage, then catch her head again for a Twist of Fate homage.
Again, the crowd erupted— that being the first time you ever did one of the Hardy move sets. The chants started quicker, alternating 'Let’s Go Y/N!’ and 'Lita Sucks!’ along with a few out of tune groups still trying to cheer for Lita.
Both women bounced off the mat, Lita rolling to her back with a groan; that was the perfect time for the next step up — Justice from above, you liked to think, as you ascended the ropes to execute a slightly modified version of the Swanton Bomb.
Once at the top, instead of throwing up the Hardy sign you flipped up your middle fingers, then leaping off in divers form (rather than arms spread like wings), rotating, with your back landing square onto Lita and pumping your fist just as you made contact simply for the extra show of triumph.
Damn, it hurt— but not as much as it felt good to flip around and pin her for the one, two, three.
The ref raised your hand accordingly, giving you a chance to stick your tongue out at Edge as he grabbed Lita’s hand and helped her get backstage.
A loud, excited audience was all a wrestler could wish for, especially when they were on your side— nevertheless, it was a relief to have one problem taken care of tonight. Hopefully your hormonal ass would get shit together about the Boyz soon enough.
Heaving some air back into your lungs as you stepped gingerly down the metal stairs rubbing your lower back, and you touched the outstretched hands of some fans on your way.
One sign caught your attention, and you slowed down to a stop; the woman halted her frantic waving, seemingly flustered when you stared right at it. It was bright green poster, two printed pictures on it: one was of Matt and Lita — though it was crossed out with red strips of paper — and the other was an old one of you and Matt hugging after the first time the Hardy Boyz had claimed tag team gold. Jeff was just by you two as well, slightly blurred since he was in the middle of going to lock you into the iconic group hug (Hardy sandwich).
The hand written text above it read 'THE REAL SHIP.’
“I think you and Matt would be a much better couple! Amazing match by the way, Y/RingName!”
You flushed slightly, high-fiving her and her companions’ hands out of courtesy, so it wasn’t as obvious you were only looking at the poster. One of her friends, smacked her shoulder, trying to get her to lower the poster at least a bit.
“Don’t just bark at her like that, gurl!”
The friend threw you a side long glance, trying her best to put up a brave front and not seem embarrassed. Your brows raised and you waved it off, legs beginning to move again.
“It’s alright, really. Thank you guys!” You addressed, turning your head to the other side of the barricade crowd as well, waving and jogging across to give a few more hand shakes. But before you’d fully moved away, the buddy of the sign holder scolded: “- besides, what if she wants to be with Jeff?”
Some bickering ensued after, but you swallowed hard and tried to scurry off faster after that. Your face held a victorious smile for the fans, but internally you were disoriented and overwhelmed. Felt like everything was caving in all at once, while the world around you was carrying on in perfect harmony.
…
…
…
“You do it better n’ me, Y/N.” Jeff chided backstage, immediately making you feel like you couldn’t escape them even if they weren’t always by your side. Not that… not that you didn’t like it — it just wasn’t as apparent before.
“I wouldn’t say that. Just different. Plus, you don’t hate most of the guys you fight.” The both of you laughed, the sounds meshed together like music.
Their match against the Dudley’s wasn’t for another half hour at least, so that gave them plenty of time to chill around with you — and catering.
“That Twist of Fate had my head spinnin’,” Matt patted your back, smiling that award winning smile just to make your sore knees tingle a little. Fuck.
By the Gods you needed to eat something.
Grabbing some plates and passing one to each of the brothers, you went down the line, pretty much grabbing a little of everything, especially from the small plate of desserts. It might’ve looked bad if it weren’t for the two Hardys trailing behind grabbing just about the same (probably more).
Jeff was shoving some potatoes in his mouth before you all were through, only stopping to look at Matt when he saw the other picking up a bottle of mustard.
“I thought ya—”
“— Why do we even have this here? What do folks eat this with?” Matt was making one of his rare disgusted faces, putting down the bottle with a thud and turning back to you two.
As much as your head was still spinning, there was no denying Matt’s hatred for mustard was always hilarious. Your lips quivered slightly, and you had to bite your lower one to stop the laugh - or worse the snort.
“Well, there are hot dogs right behind ya, Matt.” Jeff pointed, noticing his brother already had one on his plate anyway.
“Mustard shouldn’t taint the sanctity of the hot dog,” Matt defended, over dramatizing and taking a large bite out of said food.
You let out your amused snort, covering your lips as you started giggling. Jesus, it was impossible to hate them. Or even contemplate avoiding them.
What that meant as far as staying just friends? Who knows.
Both men’s faces lit up whenever you laughed without fail, Jeff juggling his plate in his hand and poking you right in your ticklish spot on your side, “What’re you laughin’ about? Pretty sure you have a list of things you don’t like to eat.”
You tried leaning away, clutching your paper plate and trying to salvage your mini feast, “J-Jeff! Stop, or I’m gonna make sure this lands right on you when you make me drop it—”
“Go ahead, I got no problem goin’ out there naked if you ruin my rags,” He shot back, poking both your sides this time after he set down his plate on the catering table behind him. You jumped in your skin, tempted to smash the plate into his face instead, but held on, just till the point Matt plucked the godforsaken thing out of your hand; always the peace keeper that guy.
Okay, not always - not by a long shot - but in this instance maybe it was getting out of hand with all the by standers and other wrestlers staring.
“Hey hey hey, no need to fight over lil’ ol me… ladies.” Matt pushed Jeff away lightly, and Jeff put up his fists, dancing around a bit.
“Oh, it’s gonna be like that? You wanna go again?”
Again, as in just like that Hardy vs Hardy nonsense they’d done for the Hardy Show. (if you haven’t seen either one, you’re missing out). Incredibly over acted, even for a pair of young wrestlers, but the scene before you was starting to look just like it.
Even funnier was the fact Matt was holding both your and his plates still, right up in Jeff’s business.
A short scan of the room and you saw a few people who actually looked concerned, a few people who were used to the banter and ignored it completely, and a few straggling wrestlers who were just going about grabbing their own food.
It was best to let them tussle it out when they were in their playful mode, so you did.
Whistling and crossing your arms behind your back, you let yourself enjoy the moment, or, you suppose: just live for the moment. Stress was for later.
Trish slid an elbow onto your shoulder, surprising you and taking your look away from them.
“Those two are always more wild when you’re around, you notice that?” She cooed, wiggling her brows.
“They’re always freakin’ animals, Trish.”
“I noticed. But when you’re with them it’s like they’re always making a fuss. Maybe they like keeping your attention,” Her blond hair swished over as she turned her head to meet you eye level.
You made a face, “We been friends for a long time.” Though you didn’t exactly hate this chick, you weren’t near BFFs. She was acting all nice now but you’d seen all her sides.
“All the more reason to make a move already,” she whispered to your ear, leaning on you more. “If you don’t step up and claim one of those Hardys, I will, hon.”
At that you exhaled hard, moving your shoulder so she tipped over slightly. She clicked her tongue and fixed her hair again, smirking at the brothers still bantering.
“I already kissed the little one a few times, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some more.” Now sporting that full shit-eating grin, she began
sauntering away with hips a swaying.
Balling up a fist and holding onto your wrist with the other, you deeply fought the urge to deck her for real — you didn’t need to be getting suspended for unnecessary violence now, though.
But damnit if she ever tried making a move on either one of them again you wouldn’t hesitate; everyone knew she got around the locker room. The one thing that put you somewhat at ease was the recollection that Jeff had always complained about being forced to do the storyline with her way back when, followed by some joke (not really) that he’d much rather it be a long term storyline with you. He’d constantly said she was 'pretty, but really not the best person.’
Your fist loosened.
Trish passed right by them and they didn’t even lift a head — likely due to the fact Jeff was putting Matt in a head lock and Matt was trying to weakly elbow him in the stomach, plates somehow still in hand -
Oh.
Spoke too soon.
The two plates spilled onto the floor, food splattering or rolling about — you gasped and hopped over the mess, pulling the two away so they wouldn’t end up slipping and killing themselves before they ever hit the cameras tonight.
They released each other too, grimacing at the waste.
“Look what you crazies did now,” you scolded, the power of it not much since your lips were curled into a faint smile. Everyone in their right mind knew it would happen, but it was still worth it to see their faces.
It so happened a stadium custodian was passing by, rolling their mop and bucket; the spill was spotted and they didn’t seem very amused.
Childish fighting aside, the demeanor of the Hardy Boyz did a 180 with them shuffling between apologizing and trying to lean down and help clean up.
“We’re real sorry, it won’t happen again,” Matt tried first. “It was mostly his fault, but we’ll both clean up.” Jeff finished, using the discarded plate to scoop up a good portion of the scattered bits.
The custodian sighed, using broom, mop, and gloves to do a far more adequate job, ready to mop up after as well.
On a few occasions one or both nearly slipped on stray pieces or condiments, but finally the mess was deleted and they were able to stand straight and steady.
“Just try not to spill more food, alright, kids.” The janitor advised, adjusting their cap.
You knew they hated being called kids or having their youth brought into things- they weren’t even that young anyway - but here they just nodded, honestly embarrassed.
“Won’t happen again, m'am.”
The older woman sighed and nodded, carrying on her way.
Jeff hit Matt in the chest with the back of his hand as soon as she was out of sight.
“M'am? Really?”
“Ah shut up.”
They had put up a typical gentleman front, if only for a few minutes, but couldn’t help maybe rolling their eyes at the way the janitor had acted. It was her job to clean up messes anyway, and it was an accident, so you couldn’t say you disagreed.
“Yo, I’m gonna go to the locker rooms to change. ’M all sweaty and I’d like to be comfortable before my body starts aching too much,” You rubbed your neck, seeing now that everyone had kinda given up on eating at the moment. You lost your appetite anyway.
Jeff crossed his arms.
“Ya big baby. And just cause you took a couple big bumps.”
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.
“I’m not as much as a psychotic high flyer as y'all, I’m more down for sweeping out the legs and gettin’ down and dirty instead.”
It was a split second but that small part at the end made Jeff gulp, eyes narrowing. Matt quirked a brow at his brother, anticipating his response. Jeff stepped toward you, not only giving your side one last poke but also shamelessly swiping his other hand over your forehead - which as you said - was a lil sweaty.
“I don’t break a sweat that easy.”
“Oh my god, Jeff! You’re fucking disgusting sometimes,” Giving him a push, the noise you made after was a painful mix of laughing and out crying. “I’m going now. And my match lasted just as long as most of your’s, so we’ll see if you’re totally dry after you go out there!”
“So feisty.” The enigma teased, nose scrunching.
Matt laid a hand on the latter’s shoulder, “If you’re gonna prove it, let’s let Y/N do her thing and let’s go warm up so we don’t lose. You know she won’t let us live it down if she gets a win over us.”
“At least one of you has a little sense.” Your smirk at Jeff melted into a normal smile when you looked over at Matt.
Older Hardy returned that and opened his mouth to add more, only you held up a finger. “A little.”
And you pivoted back on your heel, extending your arms behind your head, holding one elbow first to get a good stretch.
After a few steps the brothers were still at it talking to each other, they never really stopped much, and it was hard to ever imagine them not being a team. You were grateful they let you have your space if you ever needed it, like right now.
You got to the locker rooms and changed out of your ring gear to a comfortable crop top and high waisted, torn jeans. You pulled what you could of your hair into a ponytail too before zipping up your bag and going to chill back in the lobby area.
For the first time that night it felt like you were alone, aside from the passing people backstage and the noise from the monitor that was showing all the current matches as they happened. You felt at home. You felt sore, and at home, but you were still relaxed in your foldable chair.
Closing your eyes, you let your mind wander some.
Jeff likes you.
Jeff, one half of your best friends in the world, likes you.
You would venture to say the other L word but you would never associate it with his feelings for you until he said it himself.
In a way, it all made sense, and you felt foolish not to notice it— Matt even said he knew for a long time. How long, you didn’t know, but you knew Jeff had play flirted with you for years — and you had flirted back. It was like human nature to you, but now that you knew he didn’t see you as a friend well…
You felt your face heat up, suddenly remembering all the small touches and kisses on the cheek you both had racked up with one another, and all the times Jeff had carried you when you were too drunk to stand or otherwise impaired. You supposed some of those occasions didn’t fall into the category of casual friend. Jeff was a wild man, strange in the good ways, but he was a freakin’ sweet heart too.
But on the other hand… and this was the part messing you up the most— you had a similar (albeit lesser) track record with Matt. Before he’d started dating Lita, you two were playful, practically laughed at any joke the other made, and maybe hugged more often than you had to; only after he’d began dating her you two still messed with each other but not nearly as much as before. That was because Matty had class and knew not to go kissing another girl’s cheek all the time when he was committed to a relationship— and there was probably no way he would’ve actually went so close to you and taught you (hands on) how to shoot properly if Lita had been around still.
And why did Matt not seem so sad after breaking up with a 6-year girlfriend? Mad, sure. Vengeful at his fake, close friend Edge? Sure. But after they broke up and Matt got all that well-expected rage out in yells and curses… he cooled down. He was carrying on relatively well for how much he had always said he loved her.
And you?
You were noticing things differently now that Matt was single again; for forever he was off the table, you were fine with it because he was happy and that made you happy, but now you felt more flustered whenever he touched you. And you always wanted to stare longer when he smiled.
You were a grown ass woman, he was still your friend, and you were reacting like some inexperienced girl.
Your arms fell over your eyes while you leaned back in the chair more.
You loved them.
Your foot stomped, shoving your gear bag away in frustration.
You fucking loved the Hardys.
How was that gonna work? In your dreams, maybe.
…
…
…
Finally, you were back in your hotel room.
While you were off your game dreaming, beating yourself up, and rolling your face into the pillows, it was soon apparent that Jeff had been thinking about you just as much - only less pathetically.
It was probably around midnight, since everyone from RAW would’ve only just gotten back sometime after 11, when he rapped on your door.
You unlocked it and cracked it open, squinting your eyes at the dimly lit hallway as if you’d just been sleeping.
“Sorry, were you already hitting the hay for the night? I can talk to ya tomorrow,” Jeff blurted, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
“Ah, no. No no, I was just… lying down.” You shrugged, opening the door fully and letting him close it behind him. “I’m sore and I haven’t even gotten a chance to clean up yet.”
“And I know you can’t sleep unless you’re clean,” Jeff said, plopping down on the edge of your single bed.
“Yeppers.” You sat on the corner of the bed, only a couple feet separating the two of you. You were good at keeping a poker face, thank god, and were fairly confident you didn’t look like you’d just come to terms with the fact with your best friends.
Jeff wasn’t making it easy to stay all laid back, however, with the way he was fiddling with his chipped nail paint.
You pushed off the hands you were leaning back on, crossing your arms on your knees. “Jeff?”
“I wanted to let you know that… if any guy makes a move on you, and you don’t like him, you should tell me. Or tell Matt. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep it to yourself just because you can handle it.”
You were quiet.
He glanced at you nervously, expecting your voice.
“Nitro’s been giving you looks for the last couple weeks, but what he did today wasn’t okay.”
You frowned, “I get a lot of looks from the guys. We all travel together and for some reason a lot of them think they can get with any female wrestler they want—” you lightly punched his arm. “I blame those 'ol bra and panty matches.”
Jeff coughed out a laugh, but tried getting serious again; his hand laid over your’s, which had settled back on the bed space between you.
“Yeah, I know. But just tell me if anybody makes you uncomfortable. I can’t stand the thought of any creep puttin’ his hands on you.”
You swallowed, slowly turning your hand so it was palm up to grip Jeff’s hand. Both of your palms were a little sweaty, but it was okay.
“Thanks, Jeffro.”
His tongue darted out to moisten his lips again, something he did when he was anxious, and his eyes trailed from your hands up to your face.
“Y/N… this is.. ehm… maybe an immature question to ask but,” He slowly snaked his hand out of your’s, wiping it on his pants, mumbling a soft sorry.
“Have you taken interest in any other wrestlers?” His eyes darted to your’s and he continued, as if to correct some terrible wrong. “If you do then Matt and I, we’ll know who not to beat up if he tries gettin’ with ya, ya know?”
That was adorable. And it made you rethink if he really liked you too or if he wanted you to be with someone else so he could be rid of a crush.
Your only answer, though, staring right into those pretty green eyes of his was simple (but with several meanings behind it): “Not that I can say, no.”
Because goddamn if you said who it was you did like - Jeff would probably think bad of you. Who on earth loved two people at the same time, right? One was a guy who just got out of a relationship and the other was his brother who was right… right in front of you.
As in, closer than before.
Your felt warm again, and you realized now it was because Jeff was leaning closer to you, his hand pressing into the sheets right by your hip, his face hovering just -
“Please don’t hate me for this, I just -” He rushed out the words, each breath against your parted lips until he closed the agonizing space.
His lips were tender— a pillowy press against your own even if they were slightly chapped. His eyes were closed tight, his body was tense; a true picture of a man who thought this was the only kiss he’d ever get from the one girl he actually cared for.
But it would be a crime if this was the only kiss you ever shared. Your body decided that before your mind had time to second guess it.
Jeff almost started to pull away, the pressure of his mouth lessening for a millisecond; but your fingers curled around his upper arm, keeping him leaned in. It just felt so… right. It felt like you’d kissed before.
His eyes snapped open and clashed with your half-lidded gaze. You two parted with a faint sound.
“You kissed me back.” He muttered.
Your heart thudded loudly in your ears while you nodded.
“Seems that way, smart one.” You flushed and bit the corner of your lip. If this was a dream you really were going to hell.
His forehead laid against your’s, and he eyed your lips.
“…That mean you’ll go out with me, sweetie pie?”
Oh, now you did feel giddy again. Somehow the way he said it then was more affectionate than ever, you felt like exploding.
“Yes. Fuck yes.”
All the nerves had left the building, neither of you able to break eye contact before your lips meshed again and again and again. That night you felt happier than you’d been able to in far too long.
And maybe that was attributed to the fact Jeff made you forget how sore your body was with… certain distractions. It was a good night and you had a little sleep over with Jeff, is all you could say.