This story idea came along because of Beth's upcoming retirement. I believe that a good deal of Corneroffandom becoming what it is today is because of my Glamarella fic series, and I will always remember them fondly. I am rusty writing them, it's probably been two to three years, so I hope this isn't too horrible. Anyway... on we go.
Santino Marella is sitting on a crate, a stack of pictures in front of him. His infamous green snake sleeve resides on his hand, the Italian superstar swatting it every so often. "Naughty Cobra!" he taunts it, not disturbed in the least that it's an inanimate object, incapable of responding. "Now, let's see..." He lifts a picture of Aksana from the pile and holds it between himself and the Cobra. "Careful now," he warns it as it turns towards the still shot. "Easy. That's it..." The peace is broken suddenly as it lunges at the picture, almost jabbing Santino in the throat as he fights it off, dropping the picture. Before it could change its course and slam onto the floor to get at the picture yet again, he pulls the thing from his fist and tosses it far away with a slightly unmanly yell.
He fails to notice the blonde diva standing down the hall watching him with an unimpressed grimace on her face. "Oh God," she mumbles, covering her face with a hand as she wonders, not for the first time, why exactly she thought this was a good idea. Swallowing down her distaste for what he had become, well aware that if she didn't do this, she'd probably eventually regret it... maybe... somewhere deep inside, she walks over to him, her sturdy wrestling boots barely making a sound on the tile floor.
He's busy collecting various scattered pictures of Aksana- her sneer only grows- and she manages to sneak up on him unnoticed. As he turns around to grab another picture on the floor, she stomps down on top of it, watching with a smirk as he gulps heavily, wondering who'd caught him. His eyes locked on her boots, her lips twitch as his gaze trails upwards. She knows when he realizes who's standing before him, her ring gear a good hint. His lips part with recognition as he takes in her legs and hips, up to her midsection and chest... "Eyes are up here, Santino," she finally says, her voice killing away whatever uncertainty he might have had. After all, they haven't really seen each other since that intergender tag match back in June.
He flushes and finally catches her eye, laughing sheepishly and stepping back as if he expects to get punched for this little show. Or bodyslammed. Whichever she may feel like. "Glamazon!" he greets her, a bit of cheerfulness beneath his nervousness that sends her back to when they'd been in love, when things had been so simple... before the Santina Marella stupidity split them up, before he had become this caricature of what she'd fallen for long ago.
She smirks at him, raising an eyebrow. "You seem almost happy to see me."
He runs his fingers through his hair, blinking at her. "Of courses I am! It has been far too long... eh, since you could last be within ten feet of me without wanting to slam my heads into the wall, that is." He hesitates, watching as her eyes brighten a little, amused and somehow charmed at his always-present faulty English. "I, I mean, you do not plan on doing so... right?"
"Not today." She swallows, realizing that if she doesn't speak up now, this somewhat awkward conversation will send him running off in the other direction and she won't get to say what needs to be said. "Santino, can we talk for a moment?"
"Certainly," he tells her, smile fading as he picks up on her mood change. "Is everything alright, Glamazon?"
She shakes her head slightly, feeling even worse as his eyes dim. "Let's sit down over here." She ignores his startled gasp as she brushes the rest of the Aksana pictures onto the ground, Santino frowning at her for a moment before huffing and throwing the ones in his hand up into the air, letting them scatter down around them like confetti. He joins her, turning to face her, and she smiles plaintively. "I... um." Uncharacteristically nervous at having to confess this to him- his being the first she's going to admit this to personally, outside of the WWE execs- she squirms and presses her hands together, staring down at the dark blue trunk they're both sitting side by side on.
He leans closer and, surprising her, rests his hands on hers, thumb rubbing gentle circles on her knuckles. "Are you alright?" She chokes, suddenly feeling like she can't get enough air. Beneath the goofy person he had become, she can see the gentle man she'd loved years back, the one who'd loved her back and stood by her side until all of his ridiculousness had become too much for her. "Beth?" This breaks her even further and she hisses in annoyance as a tear drips down her cheek. His eyes widen in slight panic as he shifts, reaches out and brushes a gentle hand along her skin, smiling sadly at her. "What is going on, my beautiful Glamazon?"
"I'm retiring," she finally spits out. "From wrestling. From... from all of this. Soon." He looks like she's smacked him, his skin paling slightly. She wonders if, similar to herself, he had always assumed she'd be there... even if not with him, by his side, at least near enough that, if they'd needed it, they could sense the other person's presence. Be strengthened by the knowledge that, no matter what happened between the two of them, they'd always have that connection. "I'm not happy here anymore. It... we barely get five minutes on TV a week," she admits to him. "I just can't do it anymore. I need to say goodbye."
He sits very still, very quiet, in a way he'd never done in the years she'd known him. It worries her and she's about to say something when he shakes his head, finally coming back to himself slightly. "I understand," he mumbles. "Many divases are unhappy, yes?" When he looks at her again, there is so much sadness in his eyes but he somehow manages to smile at her again, his fingers shifting to cup her jaw. "But Glamazon, this is not goodbye. There will never be a goodbye." Before she can say or do anything, he leans in even more and stares at her. "You know where I am if you need me."
It feels like a great weight's been lifted from her shoulders; despite his sadness, he does not try to talk her out of it, he simply accepts her for who she is- as he'd always done, as she hadn't really been able to do for him in the end. She smiles shakily at him and cups his face back. "Thank you, Santino," she breathes. "And the same holds for me. If you need anything..." He nods, her fingers rasping against his skin and she thinks distantly that he needs a shave, but no words are said beyond this, their eyes locked on each other. There are mere inches between them and they begin leaning in the rest of the way at the same time, little to no hesitation as finally their lips meet, the kiss simple and not too long or too short, just right. They've both moved on, long ago, but there remains an unwavering kind of bond there that she thinks will never be broken, no matter what. They pull away slowly, Santino's eyes fluttering as she smiles at him. "I will miss you."
"And I you," he tells her softly, his hands still gentle on her face.
She takes a deep breath and pats his jaw a couple of times before easing away from him, the growing distance between them making it more and more real for them both- this was it. She was leaving. For real.
"Until we meet again," he tells her and she breaks anew, forces herself to nod.
"Until we meet again," she echoes, ignoring how her voice trembles. When she finally manages to turn and begin walking down the quiet, shadowy hallway away from him, it's one of the hardest things she's ever done, much worse than the first time she'd walked away from him. This time is permanent. And yet she can feel his touch still, his words looping over and over in her head as she nears the turn that will take her out of his sight. She takes another deep breath and continues on, chin held high. She knows she'll be fine now, no matter what comes.