Flames

Endure and Let Go, part 1

"You told me there would be dragons."

Seth waited until one of the sound technicians walked past to draw Becky into a hug. With all the quarantine conditions they had to meet in order to compete, she was one of the few people he could be in close contact with outside of the ring. They'd always been physically affectionate, even when they were just friends, but now that they weren't supposed to even come within six feet of so many people, he found he was hugging her as often as he could. "And there are—"

Becky shot him a dark look. "Not until the end of season one! The very end! That's false advertising, I tell you."

"They show up more later, I promise." Seth rubbed her back, feeling just a twinge of guilt. Having so much quiet, personal time with Becky was a gift and he knew that, especially at such a relatively early stage in their relationship. It was just another reminder that it was a blessing that they were in the same industry, the same company. So many of their co-workers were avoiding contact with their families to keep everyone healthy, while he got to see his fiancee every day. They both tried not to rub it in, and unlike their attempts to keep their relationship a secret just over a year ago, they were doing a somewhat decent job.

"They'd better. And I'm not telling you who my favourites are anymore," Becky added, "because then you make that face, and that means they're going to die."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Babe, it's Game of Thrones. Most of the characters die. That's not exactly a spoiler. And don't start with Sean Bean. Most people can't name a movie where he lives, so he doesn't count."

"You're lucky you're not getting married in Ireland, Rollins." Drew gave Becky an amicable nod as he approached, but Seth got icy, narrowed eyes instead.

"Why?" Glancing between Becky and Drew, Seth tried to understand what link his now-delayed marriage had with Game of Thrones. "You're Scottish, she's Irish," he said, pointing at each of them in turn, "and Sean Bean is . . . English, isn't he?"

Drew crossed his arms across his massive chest. "He is. I was more talking about the curb stomps you've got lined up for tonight."

Becky glanced up at Seth. "Plural?" A feud between Seth and Drew was one of the few original plans to survive all the changes WWE was making due to the virus outbreak, and that alone gave a little bit of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic time.

"Two." Drew shook his head as if he were disappointed. "Honestly, Rollins, if it takes two of them, then maybe you should take a run at someone else. Braun has the belt over on SmackDown now," he added with a cocky grin. "Maybe you'll have better luck with him. You don't really want to mess with the Celtic contingent, do you? Me, her, Sheamus, Finn—"

"Nikki, Killian, Jordan. . . ." Becky gave a low chuckle. "It could make visiting my family very awkward for you."

Seth kissed the top of Becky's head and laughed softly. Her family had welcomed him warmly whenever they'd been in Ireland, but he still had trouble at times with the accents. It didn't help that Becky's was subtly different than her father's and her mother's, which both different slightly from each other—at least to his ears. "So has the Irish Mob infiltrated wrestling then, or—"

Drew thumped his chest so loud it sounded like it should hurt. "Scottish," he reminded him. "And you're lucky she's not, or she might have you wear a kilt at your wedding."

"You know, you non-Americans laugh at our patriotism and whatever," Seth replied, "and then you turn around and make factions based on your countries."

"Well, that's just because Ireland is amazing. And Scotland too," Becky added, motioning to Drew. "We can add Wales and sneak Tegan in there too. She's a good lass."