Work Text:
If you asked Kevin, and if he was in the mood to tell the truth, then he'd tell you that he thought it was all quite romantic, to be honest.
He wasn't prone to sentimentality and he didn't care for seeking out mutual respect. Most of the time, all he cared about was finding a fight to win, and he had left friendships torn and destroyed behind without a single fuck given. He wanted a fight, not a dance.
Somehow, however, Roman Reigns gave him both.
Kevin blinked under the blinding lights of the arena, the sound of the roaring audience gradually coming back to him. They were louder than ever.
As he blinked again and noticed the blood pouring into his eyes, he realized why.
He sensed more than saw Reigns dragging his feet back over to him, and Kevin only barely moved in time to miss the chair coming back down to his bloody face. He could vaguely hear Cole yelling, a child in the front row crying, a man laughing— but then his hearing was only focused on one sound.
“Get up,” said Reigns through heavy breaths. “Get up. I'm not done with you.”
Kevin pushed his back up against the barricade, eyes bleary as he looked up at Reigns, who was coming at him at a staggering pace. “C'mon then.”
Reigns glared, surging at him with a burst of energy that was blunted off when Kevin dove out of the way — Reigns collided with the barricade, body crumpling, and it sent thrills across Kevin's body, excitement lighting up his nerves as a new surge of energy coursed through his veins.
When Reigns groaned, Kevin was able to stand up, much to the screaming crowd's delight. But Kevin didn't care about them, not at all— he cared about hearing Reigns make that noise again.
So he bent down, reached under the ring, and pulled out the lid to a trash can.
When Reigns's head finally turned his way, Kevin took the lid by the rim and backhanded Reigns, the flat part solidly landing across his pretty face.
“Uhn,” Reigns whimpered, before crumpling again, and it was enough to make heat collect in Kevin's stomach.
He wanted to torture the other man some more but, with a glance at the ring, he figured he could always do that after he won. He turned and made the painful roll through the ropes.
It was only when he was getting to his feet did he realize the increase in volume from the crowd — he quickly turned but Reigns was already up, and the lid he'd abused him with moments before was flying at Kevin like a frisbee at full speed, Reigns like some fucked version of Captain America, and then the lid was solidly connecting with Kevin's sternum and knocking him to his back
It gave Reigns time to get back into the ring, and he had a chair in hand, again. He seemed to really love the chair this time around. Kevin's head was busted open badly, blood puddling beneath him, and another hit would probably mean a concussion. They both knew that.
When Kevin peered up at Reigns's eyes, he could see that the man knew that.
And he was still bringing his arms down.
It almost made Kevin smile.
Kevin got his arms up, and the sting was better than a concussion but not exactly pleasant — not like the feeling that was settling in his stomach as he savored Reigns's reactions. Reigns was so easy. He didn't care for the violence but he liked to make others hurt, and was quick to whine when he was hurt himself. Wouldn't get his hands dirty if he didn't have to but took pleasure in doing so when he found it necessary to take care of the issue.
To Reigns, despite what he might say, Kevin was always an issue that he found necessary to take care of.
“Stay down,” hissed Reigns.
“You just can't choose what to do with me, huh?” Kevin panted back before he swept Reigns's leg from under him.
The taller man fell to a knee, and Kevin pushed himself up to his feet before the other man could recover. He delivered a kick to the head, Reigns falling to both knees, and Kevin grasped his chin to connect better, tilting the man's head back.
Reigns's bottom lip was torn at the edge, blood red across a bitten pink.
Kevin desperately wanted to lick it off. Since he couldn't, he delivered the kick instead.
Reigns fell to his side, eyes rolling a bit, and Kevin was on him in an instant, covering for the pin, and it was 1, 2—
Not enough.
When he looked back at him, Reigns had blood smeared across his cheek. Kevin's blood.
Kevin grinned. “You sound pathetic,” he told Reigns, and huffed out a breathless laugh when Reigns swung and missed.
Kevin rolled to his feet, hauling Reigns up with him, and then heaving him backward in a suplex, Reigns groaning at the impact. Kevin headed straight to the turnbuckle, knowing better than to get distracted by Reigns's sweet little sounds.
He was flying in the air for the Swanton when he saw Reigns's knees go up.
Pain burst across his lower back, and he curled against the pain, just inches away from where Reigns was curled up, too.
It was the counting game again, and that's when Kevin could almost hear it, even over the roar of the crowd, over the rush of blood in his ears.
Music.
Reigns was crawling over to him, but Kevin grabbed for the ropes to avoid a pin. Reigns got to his feet still, and then he was the one who was hauling Kevin up, tossing him against the ropes so he could deliver a forearm, but it was just slow enough that Kevin could block it.
Reigns's eyebrows lifted from that ever-present furrow, clear surprise, always surprised with Kevin, and it irritated and invigorated Kevin in parts, and it was enough that Kevin was throwing a punch back, and then Reigns, Kevin, Reigns, Kevin—
A back and forth, pushing and pulling, exhaust and energy, and there it was.
The dance. Reigns's pain and anger reflected in Kevin's eyes, both of them feeding off one another just so they could deliver another hit, music soaring and blood pouring between them, and it was heaven. Everything. Kevin wanted to be nowhere else.
A burst of strength and he got Reigns hard across the cheek, Reigns stumbling, but Kevin wouldn't let him fall, not when the music was still playing.
“Got ya,” muttered Kevin, mindlessly, and he could feel Reigns fall even deeper into it, into them, melting in his hold a bit more, and they weren't far off at all, they were swaying right there, in the ring, in the stadium—
Reigns tilted his head back, their eyes meeting, and his lips parted.
Dance of violence.
It was enough to make Kevin exhale shakily, and at that, he saw it as it came — Reigns's own realization, his fear, and then—
Hands on his legs pulled him down, his head bouncing off of the mat, and the bell was ringing, and time moved slowly as Kevin blearily watched the Usos haul Reigns up to cart him away. Sikoa was coming at him with thundering footsteps and then Sami was there and Kevin couldn't muster his usual anger and concern at the sight of him, just watched as an argument bounced between them, Jey joining them, and Reigns looking exhausted from where he leaned against Jimmy but that quick temper of his was making a comeback, irritation rising in the depths of his eyes as he glared at what was supposedly his family with intense disdain.
Kevin hated him.
There was never a universe, a reality, where Kevin would feel anything less than hatred for Roman Reigns. He never said it out loud because there was no point, and he didn't want Reigns thinking that Kevin spent more time on him than was already obvious. But he thought about him all the time — hated him all the time, his name repeated by one of those constant little voices in his head reminding him of Reigns and all his bullshit.
Ticket into the business. Carried by two guys that were even more batshit than him. Constantly getting lucky shots at the titles. Roman Reigns was a less entertaining Cena up until the point he decided that he was something to be taken seriously, even though no one had until he became the Tribal Chief.
The fact that everyone seemingly forgot about all of those years where he was like the rest of them, fighting tooth and nail for his name, and treated him like he was above them all enraged Kevin. And now he treated everyone like absolute dogshit and got away with it. Kevin was best working alone, which Sami and the few other guys he was acquainted with knew, and Reigns always wanted to pretend he was the same but he couldn't be more different. He needed a team to survive in this business. Without the rest of the table, he was nothing.
Kevin would never like him. He hated Reigns.
So he wanted him beneath him desperately.
Kevin barely made it to his feet, and stared at Reigns from his position in the ring, breathing labored and his blood crusting on his face.
Kevin's ears weren't able to focus on what was being said among the family but something big was happening. Reigns was saying something, face deathly serious, and then the group was exploding on each other.
Just before he joined the mess, Reigns looked back at the ring.
Kevin smiled. He felt blood gush through his teeth, down his lips.
Reigns's expression was one of pure hatred before he turned back to the group to swing.
Kevin jumped over the ropes to join the fight. Maybe he could force Roman's hand into one more dance.