Flames

Megastar, part 2

Author's note: It's been at least a decade since I've been around a one-year-old kid regularly, so apologies if I'm not writing Roux well. Kids aren't my strong suit.

"At least it's not your knees." Becky's voice came from above him and somewhere to the left, but Seth was too sore to turn his head and look. His match with Lashley had been incredible, but being launched halfway across the ring from the top rope was always a recipe for aches and pains, and then the Usos had also given him a double super-kick not long after. Seth had definitely endured worse, but he hadn't been quite this sore for a while.

"That's true," Seth said with a low chuckle, trying not to jar his ribs. "It's just everything else, pretty much." They still had the tour bus, but had opted to stay in a hotel that night since Roux was getting a bit bored with bus life. He had sprawled out on th bed right after taking off his jacket and shoes, and now he regretted it. A hot shower would have helped his aching muscles, but now the thought of leaving the bed was unfathomable.

"Dada play?" Seth turned when he heard his daughter's voice and saw two little hands grip the edge of the bed before her head popped up, her eyes sparkling. The bed was a little too high for her to pull herself up onto it, but she could still see over the top. "Dada! Dada play!"

Becky scooped her up easily and danced a few steps away from the bed. "Not right now, sweetheart. Dada's sore. Dada needs to rest."

Roux let out something between a snort and a whimper, and Seth fought not to laugh. She was showing more personality—and stubbornness—every day, and he was seeing more and more of Becky's tenacity in her. "Dada play now." Her face scrunched up in a scowl, cheeks pink with frustration.

"No, Roux," Becky said firmly. "Dada needs to rest."

"No Mama." Roux squirmed in Becky's arms. "Dada play!"

The way Roux said play was so plaintive that Seth was torn between laughing and getting up to take her from Becky. "Becks, it's—"

"It's time for someone to have a bath," Becky interjected, shaking her head. Roux's fussing turned into tears, and Becky tucked her daughter's head against her shoulder. "It's getting harder and harder to get her to settle down after the shows." Her voice held equal amounts of frustration and sadness. "Maybe we should only bring her every other week or something...."

Seth felt a pang of guilt pile on to his already big helping of pain. He was the reason they were also at the SmackDown shows; otherwise they would either be in Iowa or Los Angeles, at one of their homes, where Roux would be surrounded by things she recognized and loved. "Can we talk about that tomorrow?" he asked wearily. He wasn't trying to delay the inevitable—not completely, anyway—but he was too tired and sore to think straight, and he didn't want to turn what should be a rational discussion into a bitter fight simply because he couldn't think past his pain.

Becky nodded, narrowly avoiding one of Roux's flailing arms as the baby continued to cry. "Of course. It's something we should discuss with your mom too. For now, I'll get her cleaned up—and hopefully calmed down. Take it easy." She moved forward instinctively, likely to kiss him, but quickly realized that Roux would probably just cry even more once she left Seth's vicinity. "I'll holler if I need help," she added with a wry laugh.

"And if you're lucky, I'll be able to hear you," Seth replied, huffing out a long breath. Roux's crying was only getting louder, but he knew that sometimes they had to let her wear herself out; if they coddled her over every little thing, especially the minor things, she would never learn to settle on her own. "I just hope the hotel has decent soundproofing."

"Only because Roman's not next door, right?" When Becky almost lost her hold on Roux because she was squirming so much, she sighed. "Luck of the Irish," she muttered, heading for the bathroom, "don't fail me now." After she grabbed Roux's diaper bag, she shut the bathroom door behind her.

Seth didn't think luck would save her and, judging from the commotion coming from the bathroom, he was probably right. He heard a lot of splashing, more than a few choice swears, and the distinctive sound of a plastic bottle dropping—or being tossed—to the floor. He knew from experience that trying to get Roux in the bath when she wanted to be playing was a thankless task and as much as he adored his daughter, he was glad Becky was the one fighting this round. Should've had a hot shower when I had the chance, he thought. There would be more than enough hot water left when Becky was done with Roux, but at this rate, he was probably going to fall asleep in his clothes.

When Becky finally emerged with Roux, Seth did his best not to laugh. Her t-shirt was almost soaked through and most of her hair had fallen out of her ponytail, but she still managed to hold the baby on one hip while checking that the travel playpen was set up properly. "Not a word out of you," she said, voice somehow both sharp and weary. "Not a one."

Roux was now wearing one of the Chicago Bears onesies Marek had bought for her and she was still pouting, but at least the tears had stopped—or so Seth had hoped. As soon as Becky started to lower her into the playpen, she shook her head vigorously. "Dada?"

"No playing, Roux. It's sleepy time." When Roux didn't start to cry again, Becky looked over to Seth. "Mind a cuddle?" she asked. "If she starts fussing again, I'll move her."

"Bring her over," Seth replied, motioning with his hand. "And change into something dry."

Becky laughed. "I should have just got in the tub with her, to be honest." She walked over to the bed slowly, watching Roux's reactions. "No play," she emphasized. "It's sleepy time now."

Roux nodded, reaching out her arms to Seth as soon as she was by the bed. Seth took her gingerly and brought her to his chest. "Sleepy time," he repeated. "Nice and quiet."

"Dada." When he felt Roux start to squirm, Seth feared that another tantrum was on the way, but she was only snuggling in closer, grabbing a handful of his shirt.

"Fuck, you two are adorable." Becky grabbed her phone and took a quick picture before opening her luggage and taking out the loose shirt—one she had stolen from Seth before they were even dating—that she liked to sleep in. As she peeled off her wet clothes, she draped them over the chairs. Then she went to the bathroom again, returning with a towel to dry off as best she could. Unless she had a shower, there wouldn't be much she could to do with her hair tonight, so she combed her fingers through the worst of the tangles and put it in a loose ponytail. Then she went over to the bed and kissed Roux's cheek. "Good girl."

"Mama?" Roux let go of Seth's shirt long enough to pat his chest.

"Oh, you're going to share Dada?" Becky made her eyes go wide. "That's very nice of you." Then she reached down and smoothed some of Seth's hair back. "Are you okay with being a double pillow?"

"Always." Seth stretched out his other arm and watched as Becky walked around the bed to the other side and curled up beside him. When Becky laid her head on his shoulder, he gave her ponytail a little tug. "Hey. I was thinking of something for this whole Roman feud. Do you know where my old Shield gear is?"

Becky raised her head enough to dig her chin into his shoulder. "That depends," she said slowly. Glancing over at Roux, she saw that her daughter was almost asleep, soothed by Seth's warmth and steady heartbeat. "When would you be wearing it?"

Seth smiled. "At the Rumble, probably. You know, psyching him out, making him remember the Shield days. I'm gonna talk to Vince and see if they'll let me use the old Shield theme too, even if it's just a clip." Then his grin turned wicked and wry. "Why?"

"Hm? No reason." Becky moved up to kiss his neck. "Just wondering if it might make an appearance elsewhere, that's all...."

He pulled on her ponytail again, a little sharper this time. "I could probably be persuaded. Lots of people around on Rumble night," he remarked. "Probably wouldn't be hard to get someone to watch Roux for an hour."

Becky chuckled, and he felt it echo in his ribs; her smile curved along one side of his neck and her hand along the other. "How much persuading would you need for two hours?"