A/N: This is my first fic focusing on The Shield and definitely my first fic focusing on a relationship between the guys so if it sucks that's why. I do not own any of the characters/personalities mentioned or WWE. I'm merely playing in their sandbox. I hope if you're reading this you'll leave me a review! Thanks and happy reading!
In their line of work, injuries are required because risks are required. Entertainment for the fans is the number one priority despite what Stephanie and Hunter spout to the cameras about their safety. Safety's number two and everyone knows it. But the crazy thing is, every superstar and Diva in the back is okay with that. That's why their business is impossible to get into. They're doing what they love and as much as The Authority wants to claim that this is their ring, their show, their employees, everyone knows that without the people in the stands and the people at home, they wouldn't be doing this. And that's what Roman keeps chanting to himself as he lies in the middle of the ring at Extreme Rules, listening to members of the WWE Universe freak out as Seth goes flying through the air, off the lower level of arena.
When he'd read the script in front of Creative, including one of his top bosses, Stephanie, he'd felt his stomach drop out a little bit. Out of the three of them, Seth has always been the one to go flying off the ropes, off of tables, off of ladders. That's just the roles they fit. Dean is the eccentric fist fighter. Roman's the powerhouse. Seth is the acrobat. But that also means Seth is usually the one with the concussions or the sprained ankles or the torn ligaments. Creative cleared their collective throats and Seth nodded, hair falling into his face. He's always been a risk taker because the fans mean more to him than his safety and Roman gets that. But he wishes that sometimes he paid more attention to it so that he, Roman, wouldn't have to. Dean cut a glance at him, eyes full of sympathy. Dean's always been one for girls and has never understood any relationship between dudes other than friendship, but he accepts it in his friends. When they'd gotten back to the room, Seth had lightly punched his shoulder.
"Don't worry so much. I'll be fine. It's not even that high of a fall," which Roman knew was bullshit because he'd already seen the arena. He smirked anyway though because Seth hates it when he gets over-protective.
"I know." Seth's hand landed gently on his forearm, fingers curling soothingly over the taut muscles.
"I know you know. I also know that it doesn't help much anyway because I know I'd be flipping shit right now if it was you." Huge brown eyes looked up at him while his hand gently tangled in soft dark hair. Their kisses are always soft and quick except when they're not. Roman's more physically dominant but Seth's will power is like steel. Roman can take with his body and Seth can take with his soul and he's not really sure either one of them is okay without the other anymore. When he pulled back, Seth's eyes had darkened to black, the way they always do when Roman shows him open affection. But, because Seth is Seth and Roman is Roman, neither one can be too serious for longer than five minutes and the hand that was tangled in Seth's dark waves yanked, causing the flyer to yelp. "You are such an asshole," Seth grumbled, rubbing his scalp. "I'd spear you right now if –"
"If you could move me?" Roman cut in, laughing at the disgruntled look on the much shorter face. Sticking his tongue out, Seth turned, scooped his bag off the floor, and headed for the bedroom. Roman let his eyes follow, the smirk fading from his face. He's seen Seth take a lot and he'd never been quite so paranoid before. But ever since Kane had left the bruises on his partner's throat from an attempted choke slam (after yanking out a fistful of hair), Roman's been reminded how fragile Seth really is (never mind the fact that he made sure Kane had bruises on his abdomen from the spear he delivered). "I'm gonna go see Dean!" he hollered in Seth's general direction.
"I'll be over in 10!" Dean is, surprisingly, the only one who gets Roman's obsession with taking care of Seth. If it hadn't been for Dean, Seth would've had a lot more bruises a lot more often. It hadn't always been that way. Dean usually took care of himself quite nicely and, after finding out the type of relationship Seth and Roman had, normally left it up to them to take care of each other. When Seth took that hit at TLC though, Dean had found Roman in the gym at three in the morning, whaling on a punching bag, tears of frustration (and probably tears at the tears) on his face. He hadn't said anything (the man can be quiet when he wants to be), just laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed while he cried.
"Come in!" was the shouted response when Roman knocked on the door. Dean poked his head out of the bedroom, then came all the way out when he saw who it was.
"Wake you up?"
"Nah. How're you doing?" One thing Roman really likes about Dean is how straightforward he is.
"Fine." One thing he hates about Dean is how often he sees through his white lies.
"Liar."
"I'm okay. I wish I was more agile, I'd go off that thing instead of him," he mumbled, sitting heavily on the couch. Dean took the place next to him, bumping him with his leg.
"He'll be okay. I promise you my life that I will catch him. I won't let him get hurt Rome." Another thing he really likes about Dean is how much effort he puts into taking care of people he loves. Roman took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.
"I know."
"One! Two! Three!"
Roman can barely hear the three-count because the fans are screaming so loud but, even as the referee raises his hand in victory, he's worrying over Seth. Replays start playing on the Titantron and Roman feels his breath catch at the second angle of Seth flying off the ledge. He looks beautiful, so fucking graceful but damn. Not that high my ass. As soon as the camera pans away from him, he's out of the ring, racing through the maze of barricade pads and stairs. He skids to a stop when he gets there. Dean is half curled up in a ball panting, but he hums out two off-key notes, their signal for 'I'm okay'. Seth is clutching his abdomen but he too lets out a soft little hum. Roman feels his chest deflate and he bends, scooping Dean up onto his shoulder, laughing at how quickly he tenses in surprise. As he stumbles back towards the curtain, he reaches out a hand halfway, knowing very well how Seth gets when it looks like he's being favored. Warm gloved fingers mingle with his and he can't help it, he can't, when he squeezes tightly, forcing them to stay connected. He lets Dean slide off his shoulder and slings an arm casually around the both of them. He doesn't think the cameras even catch the slight squeeze he gives Seth.
"Dude, I'm fine," Seth whines back at the hotel room. Roman is silently rebandaging his sprained wrist, killing him with his eyes. "It doesn't even hurt." A hiss escapes a second later when Roman squeezes roughly on the overextended tendon. "Dick." When he's finished, he stands and pulls of the black vest that needs to be washed after tonight. He hears Seth's slight intake of breath before he finds himself flying backwards, landing roughly against the couch. "DUDE!" Seth yells, straddling his lap in a completely nonsexual way. "What the fuck is that from?!" Roman looks down, seeing the skin on his abdomen cut open, probably from the buckle inside the vest. The blood around the edges is mostly dry and his really doesn't hurt, but he's more concerned with the look on Seth's face.
"I'm fine. It's from the vest. When Hunter slammed me into the apron." Seth's eyes dart up from the cut and he growls. Literally growls.
"Why haven't you shown me this? How the fuck am I supposed to take care of you if you don't tell me when you're hurt? Goddammit Rome, you could be more careful –, "he trails off when he notices the body beneath him trembling. Roman is laughing so hard he can't breathe and Seth is getting more pissed off.
"Sound familiar?" he finally hums when he catches his breath. A flush is spreading across Seth's cheeks because Roman's lost count of how many times he's yelled that at him and gotten yelled at in return. Lips crash down suddenly, almost painfully, on his.
"Shut up," Seth mutters savagely, lips and teeth scraping down his neck.
Apparently his wrist really doesn't hurt that bad after all.