One-shot. Inspired by AJ introducing Big E as her 'friend' back in January, and the camera cuts to Big E looking very uncomfortable indeed every time Dolph and AJ kiss :P Hope you enjoy. Views and reviews are not only allowed, they're welcome!
I have a belt. It's gold and shiny and I busted my backside to win it. They don't let me carry it on Raw or Smackdown. It will 'confuse people', apparently. But as the estimated 7-12 people who tune into NXT every week will know, there is an alternate universe in which I am king, how every week a thousand of my fellow Floridians enthusiastically yell 'one more time!' and count five along with me as yet another challenger falls to yet another Big Ending.
These 7-12 people may wonder why, considering my obvious power and in-ring talents, I am content to spend my time on the main roster shadowing a much smaller and altogether less intimidating man, allowing myself to be deployed like some 280-pound pitbull that he and his girlfriend hold the leash of. Why I am willing to stand there silently, arms folded, rarely uttering a word, while they extol their own vitues to the universe, and while they eat each others' faces. Is it money? No, they don't pay me a thing. Prestige? I'm sure my time on Raw would have come eventually anyway, five months as NXT champion is evidence enough that I'm ready. Do I just enjoy hurting people and relish any opportunity to do so? Well, it's far from a chore, I'll admit.
However, that isn't my main motivation. After all, I'm sure there are less awkward spots I could have inserted myself into in order to do that. I do it for her. To see her smile that gleeful smile. To exact revenge on her behalf on those who have wronged her, those who dare hurt and upset my AJ... but she isn't mine. Never has been, probably never will be. That smile, and a congratulatory slap on the shoulder if I'm lucky, is all I'll have to be content with. If I were to speak the truth, I'd lose even that. I'd lose the opportunity to spent nearly every day in her wonderful company. I fear no fight, no threat to my physical wellbeing, but the thought of telling the woman I love how I really feel chills me to the bone.
This way I can live in the ludicrous delusion that some day, some absurd turn of events will cause her to see me the way I want her to, as the only man who's been there for her throughout the rollercoaster ride that has been her tenure in the WWE. Just like she was there for me that day nearly four years ago...
December 17th 2009. Of course I remember the date. Everyone remembers the date of their first match, don't they? Maybe it's just me, I'm a fountain of useless information. There I was, backstage at my first ever wrestling event, feeling more nervous than before any powerlifting competition I'd ever taken part in. Yeah, I was probably the strongest guy there, but wrestling is more than just strength. Men little more than half my weight have gone to have glittering careers. It's all about using your size to your advantage, covering your weaknesses, all these things I'd been taught during my three months of training and now had to apply for real.
I watched them all milling around, all sorted into their cliques, wondering who I'd fit in with, hoping someone would notice me looking lost in the corner. I'm pretty hard to miss, after all.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they thought one glance in my direction and I'd hurl them head-first into the catering table. It's hard to seem approachable with these looks. Maybe they thought I'd have nothing interesting to say. Once again, this is where my looks let me down. People expect a guy like me to have another bicep where his brain is supposed to be. I feel like I should turn up to new places with a T-shirt that says: 'I read books. I play video games. I'm just like you only bigger.' In case you haven't gathered by this point, I'm a rather shy young fellow. In many ways it's shaped who I am. While you were going to house parties, I was hitting the gym for a late night session. I don't tend to speak unless spoken to. I'm like a Victorian child.
And on this occasion, when I could most do with some support, no one was speaking to me. Maybe they resented me. Some of these guys had toiled away for years wrestling every high school gym in the land to get this opportunity, and along comes this dude whose never stepped foot in a ring and walks straight into a WWE contract. Then I heard it. A cheery, sweet little voice.
"Hello!" it said. It couldn't possibly be talking to me. I didn't want to embarrass myself by turning to look. I stared on ahead and continued to wish they'd just hurry up and let me hurt people. My present experience was making feel more than ever like doing that.
"Um, hello?" the voice said again. It was talking to me. I spun around to face the first person to provide me with conclusive proof that I hadn't become invisible. There was no one there... oh wait, there she was. All five feet two and what couldn't have been much more than a hundred pounds of her. Caramel skin, wavy dark-brown hair that matched her wide, inquisitive eyes and a disarming smile fixed upon me. The archetypal girl next door. She looked like she couldn't hurt a fly, let alone another human being. Who was she? The make-up artist? Someone's girlfriend? Daughter, even? She couldn't have been a wrestler, that was for certain. Most of the women I'd seen around here would eat her for breakfast.
"Hey," I offered meekly, realising I'd been silent for way too long while I pondered this apparition.
"Don't remember seeing you around here before, and no offence, I'd like to think I'd remember if I had," she said with a self-conscious giggle. I could tell that she wasn't the most socially-comfortable person either. I liked her already.
"I'm new. First match tonight, apparently," I muttered, still shocked someone was actually taking an interest in me.
"Oh wow! I remember my first, God I was so nervous, I couldn't believe I was here. I mean... a WWE diva, it's all I'd ever dreamed of. I did fine though, I'm sure you will too. Listen to me talking like I'm the frigging Fabulous Moolah or something, I've only been here seven months!"
Another self-conscious giggle. Goodness me did she talk fast. She must have been indulging in all that free coffee. But more importantly, her first match?
"You're seriously a wrestler? YOU?"
"Um, yeah. Look..." she flexed her right arm. It did little to shake my disbelief.
"I might not look like much, but I can go, watch me tonight if you don't believe me," she said it with so much pride and determination. She was clearly used to being underestimated.
"I look forward to being proven wrong, Miss..." I paused expectantly.
"AJ. AJ Lee."
"Ettore Langston."
To my shock, the sound of my name sent her into another fit of giggles.
"And what will you be wrestling under?" she questioned as her laughter subsided.
"Well... that. My real name," I said sheepishly, preparing for more chuckling which she duly delivered.
"Ettore? Who ever heard of a wrestler called Ettore? That's not the name of a 300-pound wrecking machine, it's what elderly socialites call their poodles!"
I stared at her aghast. I'd just met the girl and there she was insulting my mother's choice in names. I wasn't mad though. It was a refreshing difference to have someone so instantly relaxed around me.
"Fine, what do you suggest?" I replied tauntingly, putting her on the spot. She put her index finger to her cheek and glanced upwards in thought. It really was quite cute. And that isn't a word I use very often.
"Umm... Big... E..."
"Big E? That's the best you could come up with. Even for thirty seconds that's lame," I knew that could be interpreted as very harsh, and we'd only just met. But somehow I knew she'd take it the way I intended. I was relaxed around her too. We were 'clicking', as they say.
"I wasn't finished!" she said with mock-indignation, putting her hands on her hips and pouting. Just when I thought she couldn't get any cuter.
"It would take something pretty special to turn that around. What were you thinking of? Normous? Vent?"
"Rection?" she offered with a snigger.
"That was the first thing I thought of, but I was trying to be a gentleman," I smiled.
"Well I ain't no lady, so you needn't bother," she shot back. Good to know.
All of a sudden our puerile joshing was interrupted by a familiar and very important face. Steve Keirn, who I had met four months earlier to sign my contract. A tough but fair man. I respected him. Even after I saw the pictures of him in his Fabulous Ones gear.
"Mr Langston, good to see you," he said, offering his hand.
"We thought we'd ease you in gentle, give you plenty of people to share the load with, so you're up first in the eight-man."
"Who are my partners?"
"Justin Gabriel, Skip Sheffield and Titus O'Neil. I'm sure AJ here will have no problem introducing you."
"They're great guys. Really talented too," AJ piped up. Somehow an endorsement from her already put my mind at ease.
"Oh, and finally, what name will you be going by?" Steve added.
I smirked at AJ. She raised her eyebrows expectantly at me. I just couldn't let her down.
"Big E."
"Big E Langston?"
"You got it."
From that day on, I was never alone in FCW. I watched AJ's match with Serena later that night. She wasn't wrong, she could go. Someone higher up obviously thought so too, as the following summer she was called up as a rookie on the third season of NXT. I still remember the day she came to me with the news, practically bursting with excitement. On her first day with the main roster, she texted me every time she saw a famous face. I was delighted for her, I could genuinely say no girl in that FCW locker room wanted or deserved the opportunity more than she did. She loved the business with all her heart, whereas me, I just loved her.
I quickly began to question whether wrestling was for me, For one thing, I wasn't dominant anymore, there were guys so fast they could make my size and strength count for nothing. I made a few friends here and there, but nothing lasting, more marriages of convenience. But I knew if I didn't stick around, I'd wouldn't see half as much of her. Her passion transplanted onto me, made me want to improve myself in order to impress her. You could even say she was my muse. I'm ashamed to say a large part of me cheered when she was eliminated from NXT, her dreams put on ice for the time being. It bought me more time with her, more time to work myself up to saying how she'd very quickly caused me to feel.
But who was I kidding? She was gorgeous. She's only become more so in the time I've known her. A beautiful girl who can beat you at any video game, who will always pick a good action or horror flick over a romcom, she was the perfect girlfriend, and I felt it was a matter of time before one of these infinitely photogenic, Hollywood-handsome hunks that surrounded us helped themselves to her. But it never happened. Maybe she was too shy, too nerdy, too quirky. Maybe it was a sign. The heavens' way of telling me to make my move. But I just couldn't. We didn't have that kind of relationship. She could tell me anything, she could cry on my shoulder, but the longer it went on the more I became convinced that it was precisely because she'd almost instantly dismissed me as any kind of romantic interest that we were able to develop this level of intimacy. I was a safe receptacle for all her anxieties and weaknesses, but unlike her female friends I could provide a male perspective, I could hold her properly. How I miss holding her... she has someone else for that now.