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Sometimes, Roman wonders if he could convince the powers that be that WWE programming should only be taped in the lower half of the country. No more Canada, no more New York, No more Pennsylvania. Just do shows in California, Texas, Florida. At least then, you’d only have to cancel shows because of hurricanes or earthquakes rather than it being so fuckin’ cold you can’t breathe.
Then again, Roman doesn’t much like earthquakes, either. Maybe that’s not such a great idea.
Still, he hates the cold. Snow is whatever, fluffy and pretty, he could deal with snow. But the cold is really what gets him. Temperatures like this, it makes his chest constrict, makes his head hurt.
He just wasn’t built for the cold. He grew up where he grew up and that’s just how it is.
He thinks, sometimes, about how he was the odd man out in that when it came to the Shield. Seth and Dean are both from the midwest, and every time Roman would complain about how cold it was wherever they were, those two would exchange this amused look, and Roman would swallow old feelings of inadequacy, of being an outsider, and shut his mouth.
Even today, an hour ago, Roman had sent Dean a text about how cold it was and Dean texted back, ‘i walked six miles in worse when i was 2years old’ and Roman had rolled his eyes and put his phone away.
It’s quiet, WWE HQ. Every other time Roman’s visited, it’s been bustling with people, but tonight it’s near empty, only a few people around filming little things for the show. Most people have gone home already. Roman kind of wishes he could, too.
It’s not that he’s not happy, not grateful. He won the damn Royal Rumble. The whole thing. Sure, not a single person had cheered, and everybody hates him for it, but he’s not in wrestling to be liked. He’s in wrestling because he loves it and he’s good at it, he’s damn good at it. He wanted this. He wants to face Brock Lesnar, as crazy as that might be.
But he’s not Daniel Bryan. And he likes Daniel Bryan. Everybody likes Daniel Bryan. But Daniel had his shot, and he came up short. Roman’s not even the one who threw him out, but everybody in the world acts like he personally set fire to the man.
He’s trying not to think about it. He’s too cold to think about it, anyway.
The heat in HQ has been on and off for a few hours now and it seems like it’s finally decided on off. For a while, that was fine, but now the cold is really starting to settle into Roman’s bones, even though he’s kept himself moving, walking up and down and around all the hallways, looking at the portraits on the walls, wearing a sweatshirt on top of a sweatshirt.
His feet started going numb a while ago, but Roman knows if he sits down, that’ll just make it worse. Still, maybe if he just sits down for a second…
What feels like seconds later but must actually be longer than that, a hand shakes his shoulder roughly. Roman blinks, then blinks again because it feels like there’s a film over his eyes, then blinks again because it looks like Seth’s standing over him with a mixture of concern and irritation on his face.
That can’t be right. Roman blinks again. Nope, Seth’s still there.
“Look, you big idiot, you gotta get up before you freeze to death.” Sounds like Seth’s voice. Part of Roman still automatically relaxes when he hears it, but a bigger part of him tenses horribly.
“What?” he asks. His mouth feels stupid and slow.
“What is wrong with you?” Seth asks, a frown pinching his brow. He shakes Roman’s shoulder roughly again. “Get up. Come on. It’s like midnight, why are you even still here?”
Well, same to ya, pal, Roman thinks at Seth aggressively. He can’t get the words to come out of his mouth, though, so maybe Seth has a point when he calls Roman a big idiot.
“Up,” Seth insists again. He jerks on Roman’s shoulder, and Roman tries to listen, but he still can’t feel his feet, and he’s curled up in a corner where he can’t get any traction. He tries to brace himself against the wall to get up. No use.
“Oh my god, fuck you,” says Seth finally, and instead of yanking at Roman’s arm more, he throws himself down on the ground next to him. Roman doesn’t really understand why until one of Seth’s hands snakes its way under the back of Roman’s shirts. It’s shockingly cold, like ice, and Roman wants to jerk away but his body is clearly not listening to his brain.
“Hey,” Roman protests, slowly. His voice feels like he’s talking through a fog. “Cold.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Seth’s whole side is pressed against Roman’s and Roman can feel that, can feel it like you know you still have a hand even when your hand falls asleep. “You’re freezing. How long have you been sitting here? The heat died, they told everyone to get their shit and go home. Even Hunter went home like an hour ago.”
“What are you doing?” Roman asks. He feels like he’s underwater, and nothing makes sense.
“What does it look like I’m doing, asshole?” Seth asks him, which Roman doesn’t think is quite fair, because if Roman knew what it looked like he was doing, he wouldn’t have had to ask the question. “You’re in shock or something, you’re going to get hypothermia, it won’t be any fun to win the title from you if all I have to do is cover you while you’re dying in the hospital.”
“I’m not the champion,” says Roman slowly.
“Yet,” Seth grumbles. He huffs and pulls Roman’s arm up over his shoulders. “Come on, help me out here.”
“How?” Roman asks. Seth doesn’t say anything in response, which makes Roman think he’s not sure how Roman’s supposed to help, either.
“You have a camera on you?” Seth asks abruptly. Roman shakes his head even though he’s not sure why that would matter at all; even his phone died a while ago. Lithium batteries don’t like the cold. “Okay, good.”
Before Roman can ask what Seth means by that, Seth is clambering over his lap, settling himself over Roman’s legs (still numb) and pressing them together chest to chest.
“Hey,” says Roman, though he isn’t really upset about this, just confused and… confused, mostly.
“You’re going to freeze to death,” says Seth. Roman thinks that’s an overreaction, but Seth says it really matter-of-factly, so maybe it’s true. “This is the fastest way to warm you up, and I want to get back to my hotel room so I can get some sleep before I have to try and get out of this city tomorrow.”
Roman keeps staring at him, and as he does, Seth’s face, only half-lit in the dark of the hallway, looks a little more uncertain.
“What?” Seth asks. He wriggles a little. “Put your fucking arms around me, or I will do it for you.”
Roman does, or tries, anyway. His arms still feel a little like they’re made of lead, but tingling like television static. He lifts them as well as he can and settles them around Seth’s waist.
Seth’s smaller than he is. It’s something Roman knows and has always known, but it’s much different to know when Seth is on his lap.
“Here,” says Seth. His voice sounds quieter. Roman doesn’t know if it actually is or not, but it feels like it. Atmospherically. Whatever that means. Whether Seth’s voice is actually quieter or not, he feels quieter when he leans down and settles his chin on Roman’s shoulder. Roman’s own chin slots easily over Seth’s, and for a second it’s just Seth breathing smoothly and Roman’s own breath haphazard and ragged alongside it.
Roman tucks his nose down and pushes it against Seth’s shoulder, inhales. Seth smells like the cold, a little like firewood, a little like wool and leather. It reminds him, in a strange way, of Dean, and Roman breathes in and then out as deep as he can.
“You okay?” Seth asks. It feels like his hand is curled up behind Roman’s neck, and his palm is more than warm. It feels like Seth’s leaving a brand on him there, and in the moment, Roman doesn’t mind that at all.
“Mhm,” says Roman. He’s really tired, but he doesn’t think that’s what Seth’s talking about. “You smell good.”
“I smell like recycled air,” says Seth wryly. “Thanks, though, I guess.”
Roman breathes in again, where his nose is pressed hard to Seth’s jacket. The fabric is cold, stiff, impersonal, everything Seth’s also been for the past six months. “I miss you,” he admits.
He misses Dean, too, in a very different way, because Dean’s still there but he’s doing his own thing and Roman’s doing his own thing and he misses, so much, when none of them had their own things. When they were a they. Now Roman’s doing this alone, and he doesn’t want to be. For all that it’s his catchphrase now, Roman really wasn’t built to be a one man army.
He misses his family.
Seth doesn’t respond to that, and Roman thinks that he’ll probably be grateful for that later.
Roman doesn’t know how long it takes for his arms to thaw, but he notices at some point that he can move his fingers again, and it doesn’t feel like his joints are all rusted shut. Seth stays where he is the whole time, keeps his hand pressed to the back of Roman’s neck, keeps their torsos pressed together almost seamlessly.
Somehow, Seth can tell when Roman’s not frozen through anymore, and he leans back. Roman misses the contact immediately, shivering.
“I’m gonna call you a cab,” says Seth, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out his phone. Roman has no idea how his isn’t dead, too, considering the cold and how Seth’s on his phone at all times, but he’s glad it’s not. “You gonna be able to get into it all right?”
“Yeah,” Roman says slowly. His head still feels a little foggy, but he thinks maybe if he can get up and move around a little, that’ll clear up. Unfortunately, Seth is going to have to get off of his lap if that’s going to happen.
Even more unfortunately, Seth gets off his lap of his own volition, twisting to lift off of him and get to his feet.
Seth offers a hand to him and Roman grasps it with both of his own, half-expecting Seth to not be able to bear all of his weight. He does, though, easily. Seth is a lot stronger than he looks.
“Okay,” says Seth, once he’s off the phone. He eyes Roman carefully, and blows a wisp of hair out of his eyes. “Cab on its way. I’m sure he’s not happy about being out in this shit, but I don’t care.”
“You don’t care about anything,” says Roman.
Something in Seth’s eyes flickers. “I care about the title,” he says, and he turns away from Roman. “Get in the cab when it comes. Or don’t, I don’t care.”
Roman wants to say something else, wants there to be more to say. But there’s nothing, and Seth nods when Roman stays silent, and then heads off, disappearing down the hallway.
The cab comes. The driver stays silent the whole drive home, and Roman tips him something ludicrous.
He hopes that a hot bath and a good night’s rest can get rid of the feeling of Seth’s hand on the nape of his neck.