Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: There were always obvious truths to the world. For example - the sky was blue, her hair was blonde, and the Celtic Warrior was endlessly fascinating. Though, Summer Rae found the last one becoming more and more problematic as time went on. SheamusSummer, written for xthefirestillburns' Luck of the Irish contest, oneshot
Okay everybody, here's my rather long author's note. This is for a contest. It's the first time I've written for a contest, but hey. I figured why not? I'm pretty excited about trying something different. The pairing is also different, and that's kind of the point, haha. I don't know why, but these two kind of stuck in my head and wouldn't let go. I've written a fic in this style before, just not for the Wrestling section of this site, so I hope it's okay. The way I have it is totally intentional, with the short scenes and all. The prompt I picked for my entry was this one:
Prompt 2: Character A deals with the struggles of balancing two relationships; one that consists of casual sex with Character B and the other that happens to be a more serious relationship with their current partner.
Just because it's something that I would probably not try to write otherwise, and I wanted to challenge myself. I just thought the pairing could be interesting and different and everything, so yeah. Anyway! I'll stop rambling and whatnot and let y'all get to the fic. Please enjoy!
Between Two Lungs
Sheamus was an enigma.
Even as new to the WWE as she was, Summer Rae was as aware of this fact as she was of anything else - the sky was blue, her hair was blonde, and the Celtic Warrior was endlessly fascinating.
She figured that was why he was such a problem.
There was a lot to be said, about the way he carried himself and the way he always joked and his smile and his laugh and his general sense of being. All that needed to be said was completely and utterly positive.
And that was what made this so much harder for her to deal with.
She stood next to the ring cheering on Fandango - she still had trouble not calling him Johnny at ringside - as he took on the Irishman himself, these thoughts racing through her head without any direction. Meaningless, frivolous...or, that was what she tried to tell herself.
However, that did not last when - seemingly out of no where - Sheamus turned directly towards her and sent her a wink that left her insides feeling like they were made of glass.
He always kissed her as if she were something that could easily break. Fragile, something that should be protected and adored and placed on a shelf out of anyone and everyone's reach.
Johnny was like that, she supposed. All grace and sweeping gestures, kind words and soft touches. She never thought that a guy being too gentle would be an issue for her, but she didn't say anything. She never said anything about that kind of thing. Didn't really know how to ask for him to be less tame with her when many other women would kill for that kind of treatment.
Maybe that was how Summer got into such a mess.
Sometimes it stunned her that the little moments could mean the most, as evidenced by the surfacing of this memory while she was busy brushing her hair, having caught sight of the little sparkling dress hanging in her locker as she did so.
She had been alone in the corner, nursing her bottled water. Johnny had been away, getting some refreshments for the two of them, when Sheamus approached her.
"You're so much more than a dancer," he commented idly.
Summer had stiffened, looking at him with a raised brow and a sense of confusion settling over her. She said nothing, only nodded her head for him to continue.
Sheamus shrugged good-naturedly. "I've seen your matches, the earlier ones...you have a passion for this. It's good to see."
He had then turned, leaving her standing there with an astonished gaze on her face and a growing blush on her cheeks.
Looking back on it, she believed that this moment was one of many that caused the chain reaction of what was to come.
"You're leaving?"
The question almost caused her to jolt from her position on the edge of his bed. She was in the middle of slipping her jeans on when he spoke, and Summer turned to face him, trying to not look as bashful as she felt.
"Um...yeah," she said, trying to keep her voice casual as she stood, buttoning her pants.
"You always leave," he commented. Not in a jealous way, not in a disappointed way, but in the way one might comment on the weather.
She didn't want to look back at him, didn't want to see his eyes. Those eyes would make her stay; they would make her stay when she knew she shouldn't, when it was taking all her willpower to leave right now.
"I have to."
Sheamus chuckled softly in response.
"No...no, you don't."
Their first time had been unexpected.
The tension between the two of them had been building for weeks, and when it suddenly exploded, the two of them had little will to say no, despite what this would mean for the both of them - and for her boyfriend, her loving and committed boyfriend.
In what would have been the ritual for all of the times they'd been together, Summer left before the sun rose.
Summer inhaled slightly, closing her eyes as she started to sway to the music around her. The large mirrors in front of her took up the entire wall of the dance room she had managed to find to practice in and she almost reluctantly opened her eyes to glance at her reflection.
She looked thinner than usual, she noticed. There were bags under her eyes that even makeup couldn't cover. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to focus on her dancing, willing herself to forget about his hands on her hips, his mouth on hers, his thick accent curving around the syllables of her name.
Looking down at her arms, she realized goosebumps had formed on them.
Summer experimented with a few twirls, moving about the place as gracefully as she could. After all this time being Fandango's dancer, she still found difficulty with a few things. She tried to imagine Johnny being with her, feeling his hands on her body and how he would help guide her, but that became a problem when she started to imagine paler hands and a larger frame behind her. And when she opened her eyes, she actually saw the ghost of him behind her, smiling impishly down at her as his lips grazed her ear -
Then she blinked and the image of Sheamus was gone, retreating back into the furthest corners of her mind, where she'd like to think light did not reach, but was always mistaken.
Sheamus' kisses were always hard, always able to steal her breath as if he needed it to live.
He was gentle, but didn't treat her as if she would shatter beneath his fingers. Every time they were together, it was almost like he was enraptured by her, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was something vital for his survival.
And, as this continued, he became that for her.
"Are you feeling alright, Summer?"
"Yes, I'm fine!"
"You sure?"
"Yes, Johnny, I'm alright."
But when she kissed him in reassurance, it was not so.
Summer found herself at his door that evening, and as soon as he opened it, she leapt at him, unconcerned about who might see. Her thin arms looped around his strong neck and he pulled her up into his arms as she pressed a heady kiss to his mouth.
He kissed her back, long and lingering and as if she were the only one he ever thought about. A spike of guilt hit her then as Sheamus turned and kicked the door closed behind them.
She felt better and yet worse as they tumbled onto the couch, unable to even make it to the bedroom.
Sheamus was sleeping while Summer gathered her clothes, haphazardly putting them on while taking discreet glances at him, making sure that he didn't wake and catch her in the act of leaving. He always seemed to do so, and she felt worse and worse each time.
But she had to leave like this. Something about staying the whole night with him...it made it more real. That if she were to wake up next to him the next day, that would make it legitimate.
Before she leaves this time, she takes the chance to study him, to gaze upon his face, peaceful in sleep; to go over the hard muscle that made up his arms and torso, both exposed as he slept; the blanket they shared was crumpled around his bare waist maintaining his modesty. One leg was hanging off the edge of the couch.
As she allowed herself this one selfish moment to glance upon him, she found herself smiling.
When she first met Sheamus, it wasn't really a meeting, per se.
He had just gotten done having his match against Johnny and was walking backstage. Summer and Johnny were talking animatedly, having retreated and lost via count out, when Sheamus made his way towards them.
"Good match, fella," he said, giving a jovial smile in Johnny's direction. He had smiled and returned the compliment.
Sheamus had then nodded at her, giving her a softer smile than before, acknowledging her with just her name.
She had responded by saying, "Sheamus," and the feel of his name on her tongue gave her more pleasure than it should have. He had slightly brushed her shoulder as he walked past her, leaving her with only Johnny and a strange feeling of emptiness that she couldn't shake for hours afterward.
"Mmm," she murmured, "Sheamus."
He kissed her neck, backing her up against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned as he moved to kiss her mouth. The kissing continued as he moved the two of them to the bed.
After, she gathered her things and left before he could even ask her to stay.
They never really talked about the matter of their relationship.
As far as she was concerned, Sheamus thought of their relationship just as sex with a few conversations thrown in for good measure, to keep it from being completely brainless - a casual thing, one without strings that could double as a noose.
But sometimes, when he looked at her like he was right now, Summer felt like - maybe, possibly - they could be something more.
"What's your favorite color?"
Summer pursed her lips a bit in faux-thought. It was such an innocent question, childlike almost. "I like yellow."
Sheamus grinned at her in response, eyes sparking with some kind of mischief.
She hadn't thought anything more about it until a bouquet of yellow roses were delivered to her hotel room.
Johnny kissed her lightly on the lips, holding her gently against his body. They swayed back and forth like tall grass in a breeze, graceful, bending together like dance partners do.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips.
"I love you, too, Sh - "
And she cut herself off before she could damn herself completely.
"I love you, too, Sh - "
Summer tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep, unable to even call Sheamus for fear of what she might do, of what she might say.
"I love you, too, Sh - "
The words kept repeating in her mind, taunting her with the truth she had no interest in hearing.
"I love you, too, Sh - "
Summer stood in front of Sheamus' door, yet again, except this time it was without the intent to fall into bed with him. It was without any real intent - well, at least, it had been when she had made her way over here in the first place. Now, she was consumed with her thoughts, each one more intense than the last, and her intention became quite clear as she stared at the familiar sight of the door to his place.
She remembered the first time the two of them had an actual conversation. It was a long while ago, it seemed. She had just had a fight with her boyfriend and was crying to herself in the corner of the lobby in the hotel they were staying in. She had been watching people pass, watching the couples hold hands as they walked to their rooms. It had sickened her as well as made her yearn for Johnny - or, anyone, really.
"Summer?" the voice had been concerned and completely invested, despite the shortness of the question.
She had gazed upward and met the eyes of Sheamus, who was looking down at her with a sweetness to his gaze that she normally did not associate with him.
"What's the matter?" he had asked.
The Irishman had been looking at her with such kindness that she couldn't tell him to leave her alone, that she couldn't say, "Nothing," and let that be that. It was impossible to resist, so she had told him everything. He had put a kind hand on her shoulder and said soothing, meaningless words to reassure her, but it had worked.
The rest, she supposed, was history.
So here she was now, months later, standing on his doorstep with that first conversation lingering in her mind. It wasn't the memory of their first time together, wasn't the memory of the last time they were together, but it was something so innocent. A gentlemen comforting a crying girl. Or, as he would put it later, "I couldn't just watch you cry like that. I wanted to restrain myself, but found it impossible."
Summer inhaled deeply, running a hand through her hair as she stared at that door.
"I love you, too, Sh - "
Johnny hadn't caught on to it, but she knew what she was going to say. She knew who she was confessing her love for, and it wasn't her boyfriend.
And to think this whole thing had started out so casually. She hadn't meant for it to happen the first time, and then it had happened a second, and a third, and a fourth...
Now, nothing made sense to Summer anymore. Nothing at all.
Well, if she were to be completely, utterly honest, one thing did make sense, and he was standing on the other side of that door right now.
Before she had the chance to knock, the door opened and Sheamus was staring at her as if she were the most baffling woman on earth.
"Su - "
"I broke up with Johnny."
This brought the Celtic Warrior up short. His eyes widened and there it was again, that look of unsupressed wonder. "You...what?"
"I broke up with him," she repeated; it felt so weird to say, but it was the truth.
Sheamus still looked thunderstruck. There was a long silence, followed by, "Why?"
Summer looked at her feet, focused on her shoes. Expensive little things. Cost an arm and a leg. Wasn't there something about redirecting your thoughts when you were nervous about telling someone something? She bit her lip.
He was in front of her then, placing his hands on her shoulders. She could feel the heat of them even through the thick jacket she was wearing.
"I know you never asked me to - "
"Because I didn't want to pressure you," he explained. There was an almost quiet frenzy in his voice, as if he were eager to share a secret with her. "I didn't want to make you think you had to choose - "
"I've been noticing lately there was less and less of a choice to be made," she said, her voice quiet and thready, uneven.
Sheamus looked as if she had handed him the world. Summer could hardly form words; they fell thickly from her mouth. She was surprised that she was able to speak at all. He looked at her, his eyes asking an unspoken question, one which she quickly answered with seven words, so simple and yet so complicated.
"I have...fallen in love with you."
So, there it was. The words were out. The stupid, stupid words that she had been thinking over and over the moment she arrived at his doorstep. Summer was about to turn and walk away, or offer him a way out of it, but then she was in his arms. He was holding her as if she were the most valuable thing he owned, with a tight and possessive grip - so unlike Johnny's gentle caresses - and his mouth was on hers before she could even think of saying anything else.
"I love you, too," he murmured against her lips.
And, suddenly, everything felt right.
The sun streamed in through the curtains of his room, and Summer opened her eyes slowly.
Sheamus' arms were wrapped around her, as they had been all night. She fit into his embrace almost as if she belonged there, though it sounded cliché to think so.
She found that Sheamus had been gazing softly at her as she slept, a pronounced smile on his face.
"You stayed the night."
"Yes," she replied.
And she planned to spend many, many more.
End.