Chapter Text
Seth and Roman flew back to Tampa on Roman's jet. Seth watched Cincinnati recede through the window from Roman's side, Roman's arm wrapped around him and Roman's lips pressed to his temple. They had peanuts. The salt burst on his tongue.
“I love you,” Roman murmured, over and over: he swept Seth into a bridal carry to take him over the threshold of the Tampa house. “I won't let you down.”
The big house felt even more sterile, now, with Mox’s big warm house fresh in his memory; Seth's feet were cold against the tile, and Roman looked out of place against his cool white walls, all the little expensive design elements that were nothing like the man Seth remembered as his brother. If Seth could have stepped out of there and back into the sunshine in Ohio –
But he couldn’t. He had made the choice.
In the back of his mind, the Visionary said, how’s that decision feeling now, little architect?
-
Mox was in Japan, for Dominion. Bryan was in Napa Valley, but Seth wouldn’t have called him, anyway; he was Mox’s partner, not Seth’s friend. Jey was back on the road, with Sami. Kevin and Cody were on the other show, with Randy. Julia Hart occasionally texted Seth incomprehensible memes, to which he replied with either multiple exclamation point or heart emojis. Seth was in Tampa, with Roman.
It wasn’t bad. So much of it was good. The house was beautiful and the air was clean, and he loved Roman, he did, it would have been so much easier if he didn’t. It was easy to be with Roman, most of the time, and Roman was careful now, restrained, as if he might touch Seth wrong and set off something he would then regret.
“I missed you,” Roman said, over breakfast, which they were eating at a little café around the corner from the house. Roman had put his hand on the small of Seth’s back when he’d gotten the door for them; he’d smiled at their waitress when he ordered for Seth and then himself. It was all plausibly deniable, but it was also Roman making an effort, and Seth knew him – he knew how much it would have cost the old Roman, let alone this new one. “I’m glad you came back with me. I know Mox didn’t want you to.”
“I missed you, too.” He meant it. There was nothing like being the centre of Roman’s attention; he understood how Roman had captured the whole WWE universe, how for four years he had gotten away with everything short of murder. “Mox loves you. He’s just-”
“Yeah. He’d never –” Roman looked away. He was beautiful, handsome, whatever you wanted to call him; his beard was thick and dark but even the little wisps of grey threading through it only made him look distinguished, like he’d earned them. “There’s a lot we didn’t talk about.”
“Nothing but time,” Seth said, keeping his voice light, careful. He stretched out his shoe so his foot tapped Roman’s. They were in a corner, beside a wide window; nobody was looking at them but they weren’t alone, it wasn’t empty.
When Mox looked at Roman it was like an open wound. He loved Roman so much. Seth hadn’t realised it because the Shield had been the Shield. But Roman and Mox were their own thing, which Seth’s other self had created with that swing of the chair, and now which Seth himself had -
Splintered. Torn apart..
Roman blinked at him. Those big, dark, eyes. He hooked his ankle around Seth’s and both of them took a breath, both of them startled by Roman’s forwardness. “You can invite him over, then.”
“Maybe in a little bit.” It was like being a teenager. To be seen together, to be touched in public; the slow escalation of it. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath. He hadn’t realised it mattered. He kept watching Roman, waiting for the other shoe to drop. His heart drummed in his ears. “Let him cool off, first.”
“There’s the Architect. Thinking strategy.”
Seth drank his coffee, laughing. “Always good to get a little respect around here.”
“Do you remember what you said to me, when you were first talking about coming back?”
“I think I said a lot of things.” Like, I’ll trust you forever.
“You said – I’ve been thinking about it. You wanted us to tag together. Like old times.” The longing shone clear in his face.
It wasn’t just the magnetism Seth had missed. When Roman was earnest, when he meant it – he was Seth’s brother. He was. As much as Seth wanted to pretend that the new, cruel, Roman was something entirely made of whole cloth and his other self’s betrayal, Roman was Roman. He would have done anything for Seth. He had done anything for Seth.
He was here, now, with Seth. Seth believed that he was trying to become someone else.
“Really?”
Roman shrugged. “I think it would be fun. Don’t you?”
Fun, Seth thought, hot and alive with the memory of being Roman’s tag partner, of flying into his arms, of having his back. He could have surged across the table, he could have kissed Roman right there, but Roman was staring at his mouth; it was the two of them; they might have had Dean Ambrose yelling from ringside. “I-”
“Yeah,” Roman said.
Their breakfasts came. Roman pulled back to make room for the poached eggs and avocados. Seth might have hissed at the loss of him but they were in public so he smiled, instead.
-
Seth ran the ropes, and then he ran them again. His knee twinged but it felt solid. He looked at his own face in the big mirror along the wall of Roman’s gym – blond hair spilling around his ruddy cheeks – and closed his hands around the ropes. The fibres dug into the palms of his hands. He screwed his eyes shut and thought about flying, but this knee, now, even at its best, would not allow him what he’d lost.
He'd had the number in his phone since that first Raw back, with Roman’s handprint on his cheek. If he’d gone anywhere but Ohio Roman would have hurt him. Going to Ohio had half-killed Mox. If he went anywhere, now –
Was anyone in the world strong enough to stop Roman? Did anyone have power over him beyond the last remnants of the Shield?
Seth braced his back against the turnbuckle. The screen of his phone gleamed in his hand. The number blinked across it. Just the number, no name. “I’m ready, now. I want to come back.”
“Are you sure? You don't have to be.”
Roman was doing something in the kitchen, upstairs. When Seth thought about him, he thought about Mox's hand on his wrist, Mox murmuring whatever you need, Seth, I swear.
“You read the reports.” No such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality. “I'm good to go.”
“You're not. But you might be. Money in the Bank is next month. Convince me you can make it on those ladders.”
He wanted it so badly it made him dizzy. To have his body belong to him. “What do I need to do?”
-
When he dreamed, he fought himself. They were in the ring together and the crowd was screaming. Seth was flying again, like his body was supposed to. God’s Last Gift, a Phoenix Splash – finishers on finishers, neither of them could stick the pin. A knee strike caught him in the jaw, a boot hit him face first into the mat.
He couldn’t hear what he was saying. That was good, probably, it was for the best. He’d listened to enough to know that it just made him sick.
He kicked out.
He jolted awake. The bedroom was dark and his face was wet.
Beside him Roman had stirred awake, rolling up onto one elbow to look at him carefully. “Oh, Seth.”
Seth felt something like a sob catch in his throat. “Roman -” he caught Roman's hip, his shoulder, pulling at him until Roman got the hint and sighed his name, draping his broad body on top of Seth's. “Please.”
“I’m here,” Roman murmured, his voice against Seth’s ear like his beard against Seth’s cheek. “Hey, hey.” He blinked, bracing a forearm beside Seth’s head, a palm cupping his cheek. He’d straddled Seth’s hips and the weight of him, solid and sure, felt like it was keeping Seth from floating away. “Tell me?”
I don’t want to hurt anyone.
That wasn’t true. Seth had never cared about collateral damage. Even his future self in his babiest faced incarnations had no trouble prioritizing the greater good.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear it. “But I don’t want you to hurt me.”
“I know.” Roman’s voice was gentle. He stroked Seth’s cheekbone sweetly, carefully. “We won’t let it happen. We’re a team, aren’t we? You and me. We can do anything.”
-
Seth had to pry Roman’s arm off his chest and wriggle out from under his thigh. Roman made a soft sound but Seth kissed his forehead and he subsided. It was dark outside. He dressed in silence, carefully, without looking back. If he had he might have returned to the comfortable sheets, to the warm embrace.
This time he called his own car. As he settled into the back seat, he took out his phone, thumbed over the name, and blocked the number.
Corpus Christi was hot and sticky. Seth breathed in: the air stuck to his shirt. He'd worn an old Shield shirt from Roman's dresser and that was stupid, probably, because the cotton blend sucked and the collar was fraying.
A car picked him up at the airport. They met in a hotel room near the venue, the AC blasting the sweat frozen on the back of Seth’s neck. There was a bed by the table. Both of them ignored it to sit across from each other.
“You look good,” said Hunter Hearst Helmsley, looking Seth up and down with an appraising stare. “Good flight?”
Hunter was wearing a fresh-pressed suit and Seth’s jeans had a rip in the knee. He thought about FCW, about the warehouse; he pushed it down, it didn’t belong here. When Hunter’s eyes evaluated him they were nothing like that first time. This Hunter liked Seth. Found value in him.
(Didn’t know who he was.)
“Yeah, thank you.” He was aware that he was bluffing, that his other self had made exactly this deal and expected to come out of it alive, and that it was the thing he regretted more than anything in the world. “I appreciate your discretion.”
Hunter leaned in. Seth remembered the way he’d touched Seth; it had never seemed like it mattered to Hunter; it had never mattered to Seth. “You can always talk to me. I hope you know that.”
This was not a hint. It was a demand.
Well, all right.
“I forgot myself,” Seth said. “I went to Tampa. I was with Roman. In his house.” Plausible deniability. The truth; not the whole truth. Maybe he was learning from the best.
Hunter said, “That did seem to be the shape of it.” He did not seem surprised or disappointed. His voice was steady, neutral. “Are you okay?”
“I will be if I can get in there.”
“He hit you hard, at the end. Will he follow you here?”
“Wouldn’t that be best for business?”
Hunter laughed. Clapped his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “You’ll get your belt back,” he said. “Tell you the truth, I always felt bad for him. He never could get over you. You were always the button to press. In case of emergency.”
The Visionary stirred, a sleeping cat twitching through Seth’s thoughts. Well, he said, like an oil slick, spilling across their shared mind. That’s one way to do it.