Flames

Fala Amo, part 1

He knew it was coming, so he was able to hide his flinch—at least the first time around. Paul Heyman at least had the decency to approach Seth and Becky directly and ask if he could reference their relationship in that night's spot, and neither of them had wanted to answer first. "It's probably going to be a jab saying I make you look weak," Becky had pointed out, "so it should be your decision." Seth had countered that anything said or even implied would reflect back on her, and the female wrestlers faced more scrutiny already. But Becky had left the final decision up to him, and Seth had ultimately agreed. Heyman didn't want to tell him the exact wording so he would get a more genuine reaction, and he had agreed to that as well. So much of their business was scripted that it was nice to have some surprises once in a while.

It didn't take long for Seth to question his judgement, though. He knew how long the spot was roughly supposed to run, and the more time passed with no reference to Becky, he started to second-guess himself. Heyman was a master on the mic, and if he made his jab right at the end of the spot, Seth wouldn't have any opportunity to counter. And then the shot was fired: You should be used to waiting, Seth Rollins. It's like waiting around at Wrestlemania for your girlfriend to main-event the show that you dreamt of main-eventing since you were—

Seth had confronted Brock then, bringing an end to Heyman's jab, but it didn't sit much better with him when he and Becky were watching the replay. She didn't rewatch her own matches very often, but they both liked catching up on the matches that happened while they were doing interviews and promos. Normally she was calling out all sorts of commentary, but Becky had fallen curiously silent during his spot. "Hey, Irish, you awake?" She was stretched out on the hotel suite couch, legs draped over his lap, and he tickled the bottom of her feet, but she barely moved.

"I'm awake," she replied, voice muffled by the throw pillow under her head.

"What is it?" Seth gave up on the tickling and caressed her bare thigh instead, toying with the hem of the long tank top she was wearing. Sometimes they turned their rewatches into a strip version of a drinking game. One time, Paul Heyman had said 'Brock Lesnar' so often in a single promo that Seth was down to one sock in less than two minutes; there was now a Brock Lesnar clause to the game so it wouldn't end so quickly ever again. "You see me so much that my spots bore you now?" He started to reach for the remote. "We can watch something else—"

"It's fine." Becky reached for her drink on the coffee table, but Seth was quicker and he moved it out her reach. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to talk to you." He pinned her lightly to the couch, mindful of where her legs were. She would never hit him in the groin unless he really deserved it, but she might get upset enough to make a sudden move. "What's wrong? Is it what Heyman said? He came to us first and asked. You left it up to me and said you were cool with it."

At first he almost thought Becky's eyes were bright with imminent tears, but Seth realized it was something else: worry. "Waiting around for your girlfriend?" she echoed, voice small. "Is this what we signed up for?"

Seth hated hearing her sound so unsure, so defeated. Between NXT and the main roster, when they were just friends, he had witnessed some of her biggest victories and most crushing lows; he had been there when she was laughing with utter delight and crying out of pure frustration. Through it all, though, there had been an unshakable vein of confidence, or so he had thought. "Becky, come on." He sat back and shut off the replay before pulling her up so she was sitting. When she didn't resist that, he drew her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "I was happy to wait for you. You know that, right? I would have waited for the whole damn day, because you worked your ass off for that spot and you deserved it."

Clenching her jaw, Becky breathed only through her nose, in rough, angry rasps that made Seth think of vengeful dragons. "I don't know what I was expecting, but I . . . I guess I just thought there was a way to do this without making either of us look weak. How did Maryse and Miz manage? Or Jimmy and Naomi?"