Goddammit, this was easy.

To be fair, sparring with Tristan wasn’t like sparring with a total newbie, but it also wasn’t the challenge Zeph needed right now. He wanted to get his mind off all this shit.

They were taking the match casually as always, although they didn’t get to spar often. Tristan couldn’t afford bruises, in case he got an audition. But it was a great release for them both when they did get to do it.

Zeph circled Tristan once more, then stepped in to give him an opening. When Tristan took it, he faked leaning away until Tristan stopped his punch too soon, then leaned in for a couple of quick hits on the chest.

It would bruise his ego more than his body, and maybe make the lesson stick. He loved Tris, but the man never learned.

“Jesus,” Tristan muttered under his breath while Zeph grinned. “Anyway, you were saying? He didn’t like the self-defense idea.”

“Right. So I went to Woody’s and saw him the next night. We talked, flirted a bit, and then the bartender… I guess he thought we were a couple, which scared him off.”

He got another glancing blow off Tristan’s shoulder and Tristan winced, then reciprocated with a well-placed kick.

The pain cleared Zeph’s head. “Followed him out,” he continued, backing off to catch his breath. Tristan made the right call by following, keeping close to him and forcing him against a wall. “Asked if I could come home and explain things.”

His blows landed harder now, trying to get some space, but Tristan flipped him to the mat.

“I let you do that,” he told his friend.

“Sure.” Tristan straddled him, dodging his punch for the chin. “And?”

“And I went home, we talked. Told him my track record with friends and family and whatever.”

He’d never told Tristan, but somehow the man knew. He’d brought up Zeph not having a family before, and Zeph had maybe helped him a little too well when he’d prepared for an audition for a character who’d just lost a friend in a sudden death.

He flipped Tristan and went for a chokehold, but Tristan wormed free and grinned infuriatingly. “And?”

“And he said I’m not the only one who’s had it rough, blah blah, turned down my apology. I think.”

“But did you actually say sorry?” Tristan rolled his eyes as he bounced to his feet again. It was like a red rag to a bull, and Zeph closed the distance between them with a few strides before landing a hard hit to his side.

“Yes, actually.” Tristan nearly doubled over as Zeph managed a solid hit in the ribs. “He wants… I don’t fucking know.” He followed it up with another hit on pure instinct.

“Jesus fuck! Knock it off.”

“What?” Zeph took a few paces back and raised his hands.

“I’m not auditioning for a punching bag role here, asshole.” Tristan glared at him as he straightened up again.

With a little distance between them, the fighting instinct ebbed, and Zeph’s brain was clearer again. He wasn’t thinking like Tristan was Rhino anymore, a man more than capable of knocking him out in his next real fight if he wasn’t on guard every single second in the cage.

Zeph winced. “Shit. Sorry. I got caught up.”

“I know.” Tristan rubbed his side, then smiled ruefully. “And I let you distract me with your dumb ass.”

“What?” Zeph scrunched his face, then went for a towel as he hopped down. His gym had a few other fighters training there, too, but it was empty this time of night. They could talk and spar, and they were rarely interrupted. “Are you calling me a dumbass over the River stuff?” He chugged water and slumped against the cage to rest.

“Uh, yeah,” Tristan grabbed his own water bottle and dumped half of it over his head, gasping with relief before he chugged the other half.

Zeph gave him a mildly offended look. He’d earned a few verbal lashings, but that was a little harsh. Sure, Tris didn’t know about the… other thing… but he’d guessed by now after Zeph cut off a religion conversation. Tris hadn’t brought up religion in years.

When Tristan was done drinking, he threw his empty bottle at Zeph, who automatically caught it after it bounced off his face.

“Hey,” Zeph grunted.

“Just give a relationship a shot. Jesus, it’s obvious. You want one.”

Zeph grunted and threw back the empty water bottle as they walked over to the fountain. He shouldered in front of Tristan to refill his own first, so Tristan shoved him in the side first.

That meant they were good.

If only things with River were that easy.