Bodyslam

Shine

A/N: If you're still reading, thanks so much for your patience. I'm still here, still muddling through the ups & downs, and still writing.

This chapter got away from me. I've gotten it to a manageable length and a good cutoff point, and I have chunks of the next chapter written. With any luck the next update won't take as long as this one did!

"So you're just laying around in bed?"

Mitch shifts, not needing to resituate himself on the mountain of pillows behind him but doing so anyway because he can. He smiles into his phone. "I desperately needed a people break after the last few days so, yes, I'm in bed while Scott's being a social butterfly downstairs."

"I mean, if the bed's half as comfortable as that fucking bathtub looked I guess I can't blame you," Kirstin grins back. "You guys got a nice room."

That's an understatement. "It's pretty nice," Mitch agrees, choosing his words carefully. "Scott knows someone who works at the hotel, so..."

None of that is technically a lie.

"Do you know anything about Vegas?" he barrels on, changing the subject. "I'm in charge of activities for tomorrow. So far I've got a trip to this one art installation thing and-or staying in bed watching wrestling but those might not be vacationy enough."

"Sounds about right for you," she snorts. "What about shopping? Pretty sure the Strip is basically Rodeo Drive in the desert."

"Exactly how much money do you think I have, Kit?" He scrunches up his nose. "Besides, I already did that yesterday."

She purses her lips and stares pointedly through the phone. "Probably more than me, Mister Merch Sales. Get anything good?"

"A couple dress shirts to wear for all these fucking interviews which are currently being tailored because I should probably do something responsible with my merch money and not just load up on new tattoos. I also got something nice for my mom and something nice for you." Mitch tries not to smile as her face lights up at mention of the gift.

"What is it? Shoes? Did you get me shoes?"

"Again," Mitch drones. "Exactly how much money do you think I have? It's not shoes and you can wait until Saturday to find out. Speaking of, anything we need to go over while I'm laying around doing nothing?"

As out of practice as Mitch is with working anyone who isn't Scott, it's been even longer since he's worked against Kirstin. Now, less than 72 hours until their first match in over a year, he'd be worried if he was booked to defend the title blind against pretty much anyone other than Kit or Psycho. He can tear down the house with either of them on literally no notice which is why this is about the fifth thing they've talked about tonight.

"Nah," she waves a hand dismissively. "Figured we'll call it in the ring like the old days. I miss being able to do that."

"Same," Mitch murmurs, silently elated. Simply by virtue of his role as trainer and his insistence on being in the ring with his trainees for their first matches, he generally has to, at minimum, plan out a framework before the bell rings if not painstakingly choreograph every move. While he's had to rely on frameworks less and less as his feud with Scott progressed, they still don't yet have that innate knowledge of each other in the ring, that almost supernatural connection some wrestlers develop with each other, to allow for matches to happen completely off the cuff. Training with Kit, working with her for so many years now, they barely need to speak during a match. The magic just happens.

Buying her that Hermes scarf with some of his gambling winnings was definitely a good idea.

"Oh," Kit pipes up, derailing his train of thought. "Have you gone to the pool yet? The hotel pools are supposed to be fantastic, they'll bring you drinks and shit."