006: ihop

THE IHOP ON WEST BROADWAY was relatively deserted at this time of day— at 1:45 in the afternoon, to be exact. At his partner's insistence, LG had forsaken his usual vegetarian pre-match regime to dine on the worst possible thing one could consume— pancakes and bacon. Truthfully, he was nibbling at a slice of dry brown toast, mentally lamenting the fact that it wasn't the twelve-grain stuff he usually bought from the vegan place in downtown San Dimas.

They had coffee, but it wasn't a soy latte. Instead it tasted like burnt plastic, leaving a film on his tongue he knew he was going to have to scrub off later.

Between mouthfuls of gooey pancakes and greasy bacon, Chauncy was babbling. "It'll take a miracle for us to win those belts, Lawrence! This is going to go badly. I know it is."

Gowan sighed and pointed at Chauncy's plate where an oil slick of grease floated atop an ocean of maple syrup. "If we lose, it'll be because you just stuffed yourself with this trash."

"Not IF!" Chauncy gestured with his fork, flinging droplets of syrup in Gowan's direction. A few landed on his hand where it gripped the chipped coffee mug. He pretended not to notice because that's just the kind of person he was. "WHEN, LAWRENCE."

"With that attitude—"

"We don't have championship written on our foreheads! We have CHUMP!"

"They put me through a table, Skippy. I'm sorry I didn't make the save," Gowan said softly, shaking his head. "We're not hardcore wrestlers. The fact that we had their number right up to the end speaks volumes."

"Does it? DOES IT REALLY?" Violently, Chauncy started tearing apart the remaining pancakes on his plate. "I fail to see that. That slag—"

"Skippy," he sighed, blushing slightly at the language even though the restaurant was next to deserted, "please. I'm sure when they're not beating people up with foreign objects and trying to kill people, they're really lovely women." He managed to say the words without any traces of sarcasm, "remember: those girls are someone's daughter, friend, lover… they're people."

"Are they?" Chauncy shook his head, "I don't know how you do it, Lawrence. I can't detach myself emotionally from this because I know when we lose, it will be my fault. I proved that in Cincinnati. Lately everything I touch turns to shit. Apparently I stepped on the WRONG toes of some deity."

"Are you almost done eating that crap? I can feel my arteries hardening just watching you shovel that trash in."

Chauncy looked up, deliberately stuffing the last few pieces of bacon into his already full mouth and chewing noisily. "I wasn't permitted to eat things like these when I was a teenager— they were too déclassé. This is purely nostalgia here."

"Or is it a gallows meal?"

Chauncy blanched at the truth in that statement and then brushed it aside. "Certainly not. I'm simply mourning my misspent youth, Lawrence. Indulge me a little."

"It's my stigma that will drag us down." Gowan said after a lengthy silence, and a grimacing swallow of the putrid coffee. "Once a jobber— I've never been good enough for the limelight."

Chauncy looked up sharply, "how many belts have you held, Lawrence? How many did you win over the course of your career? Which hall of fame are you in? Who was the last relevant champion in Catholic Panda-"

"Don't, Skippy. You know it's essentially true. I've been at this longer than Brad, and I have far less trophies on my mantle than he does."

Dropping the fork with a clatter, Chauncy glared as his better half. "The ones you have meant far more than his random assortment of belts ever have. You put in years in each place. You were with WCWF from the beginning until its demise. The same goes for SAWF. We were there until the end and after you vacated that belt, the place that shall not be spoken of folded in on itself."

"Chauncy, we need to talk about tomorrow. It doesn't matter whether we win—"

"Wrong," he interjected, "nobody listens to me around here. I know this. Half the roster still doesn't even know who I am and that's fine. I don't care about them or how many followers I have on Twitter. I don't care about the fanbase the way you do. I don't go out of my way to sign autographs—"

"You'll be doing that later," Gowan reminded him.

"You know what I mean," he lowered his voice, "perhaps to them I am a joke. Maybe I'm not wholly good enough either. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let my tag team partner down— I won't let you down, Lawrence. I've already cost you gold once. It's not going to happen again…"

"If I had that moment to do over, Skippy, the outcome would have been the same. Nothing is more important to me than you. Not a hash mark in a win column. Not some shiny accoutrements. Your life… your continued existence is the most important thing."

Chauncy closed his eyes, "please don't say that. I don't want to be the reason you flush your promising career down the toilet. I will not be the weak link like Anders Stark is to Cara Stone."

"My… what? Chauncy… no. They've been teaming longer than we have. There is no weak link there and... oh... my career? That's…" he sputtered, stumbling over his words.

"I know our legacy will never live up to the reign you had with Shawn," he said softly, "and I've resigned myself to that years ago. I know, Lawrence. I know what you're afraid of and I understand. I won't let you down— I swear to you that we will not look like the rookies that everybody thinks we are. I've been working extra hard. I've been doing drills whilst you were sleeping. I've studied every single one of their matches back to their regional days. I know every single aspect of their game and I promise you that I will not fail you."

Gowan sighed, averting his eyes as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Fair enough," he said softly, "now can you please finish killing yourself so we can get out of here? I feel like I've been dipped in oil— I'll need to shower before that meet and greet." Chauncy continued to shovel the slop into his mouth, smacking his lips, making Gowan wince. "So tell me, Skippy—"

"Whatmph?" He replied, as he chewed the last giant mouthful of pancakes.

"What does it feel like to have cholesterol over 600?"

Chauncy rolled his eyes, and responded, his voice taking on a haughty tone as he let that British accent creep through. "Pish-tosh," he sopped up the last of the grease and sugar with the untouched piece of Gowan's dry toast. "MY blood is blue… and cholesterol can't live in bluebloods. That, good sir, is a proven fact!"

Gowan snickered, "I suppose you're right. You just have gout to look forward to instead. Ah well, as long as I'm the beneficiary of your life insurance policy, I won't regulate your eating habits, or lack thereof." The smile was back on his face, "picture it now, Skippy: they celebrate our spectacular tag title win by slaying the fatted calf and then someone says, 'oh shit! That was Chauncy'!"

"Hilarious, love."

Gowan pulled some bills out of his wallet and stood as Chauncy continued to sop up the remains of the grease and sugar on his plate. He felt hot and suddenly nauseated. "I'll meet you outside, Skippy. Think…" he swallowed hard, "I need some fresh air."

His mouth was watering as he pushed out into the afternoon sunshine. For the first time in months he was craving a drink in the worst possible way. He leaned against the wall; his lips moving as he silently recited the serenity prayer to himself over and over until the feeling passed. "We can do this," he said with conviction, opening his eyes to see Chauncy coming out the door. Deep in his heart, he knew they could. There wasn't a single tag team in the history of the industry that was closer than they were on every level possible.

Pushing off from the wall, he fell into step next to Chauncy who naturally took smaller strides so that Gowan could keep up. "Sorry, I just—"

He began but Chauncy cut him off with a nod. "I know. You don't have to apologize for every little quirk, Lawrence. The thing that matters is that even if we do fail— even if we walk out of that arena without the gold— we'll still have this. We'll still have each other and you're right. That's far more important than anything else in this world."

Tears filled his eyes but he hid them behind a pair of sunglasses. "Couldn't ask for a better partner. I love you so much."

Chauncy put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. "And I, you."