As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023. Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC
A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.
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I'm startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I'm laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale.
My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It's currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he's been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He's come back to me and that's all that matters.
The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he's staring at me. It's confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so.
The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it's come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight's win feels like a loss.
The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.
"Babe?" he calls out.
"Yeah, it's me. Don't panic," I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.
