a/n: this is the second companion piece to ramenreignss' "hope it was worth it" featuring the aftermath of seth's betrayal where he is in an established relationship with nikki bella. the first companion piece i wrote featured dean and emma and is titled "help me adjust to this madness." i don't think it's necessary to read it, because this stands pretty well on its own. this features roman and paige, because i wanted to try something with them (i'm a closet raige-r, lol) and also dashinginconverse already wrote an amazingly wonderful roman/renee piece, so...

~*~hold your head high, heavy heart~*~

pairing: roman reigns/paige

at this moment there are 6,470,818,671 people in the world. some are running scared. some are coming home. some tell lies to make it through the day. others are just now facing the truth. some are evil men, at war with good. and some are good, struggling with evil. six billion people in the world. six billion souls. and sometimes – all you need is one.

"like you like an arsonist" - one tree hill, season three, episode one

"I got it, doll." Roman could hear the utter exhaustion and pain in his voice, tinged with the bitter reality of the betrayal he had just experienced at the hands of the man he once called a brother. A man who just – what? - three weeks earlier, in an interview, said he was laying it all out on the line for.

Everyone was calling him "the next big thing" but that didn't mean shit without his brothers along for the ride. He had come into the business with the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He was part of a dynasty. Stretching from his father to Dwayne to Jimmy and Jey. And now it was his turn to step up, to add to the rich legacy. Except he'd be doing it with Seth and Dean right by his side the whole time.

Or at least he thought he would be.

Now because of a fucking steel chair, it was gone. Just like fucking that.

He'd gone into the ring ready for his one-on-one match against Orton, ready to decimate Evolution – or what was left of them since Batista had run off with his tail between his legs – and instead he got a fucking steel chair to the back, and crumpled to the floor, the impact of the devastating shot too much for his already bruised and battered body to take.

Then he heard Dean get the same treatment. Then it was a curb stomp and for him a few extra shots, just for good measure, at the obvious order of Triple H.

Just breathing hurt like a bitch and as Emma stood in the doorway, still hesitant to leave him behind with a raging Dean, he winced as he rose to his feet, but made sure his face didn't allude to the intense pain that was radiating through his body.

"I got it." He assured the small blonde once more. "He ain't gonna do anything crazy on my watch."

"I know." She murmured, blinking back unshed tears. "I just... How... I..." She couldn't form complete sentences, and all he could do was reach for her.

It was still a little strange that he was hugging the Australian, but ever since she and Dean got together – or were pushed together by a scheming Nikki and Seth – she'd become as much of a fixture in his life as Jimmy and Jey and Naomi. Along with the Bellas and Daniel Bryan. One of the very select few he let into his sacred inner circle.

She backed out of the hug, slowly, careful of his fragile state, which made him want to punch the walls of the trainer's room. But Dean was doing enough punching and kicking for the entire roster. Sighing heavily, he pushed his fingers through his thick hair, biting down on his cheek as searing pain radiated through his arm just from lifting it to perform such a mundane act.

"Calm your ass down." He grumbled through gritted teeth and an intensely ticking jaw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Dean roared, making the Samoan role his eyes. "You want Emma to stop treating you like a fucking little kid, stop throwing a damn temper tantrum. You're a grown-ass man, act like one."

"Maybe I should punch you instead of this fucking wall."

"Just cool it. This ain't over. You know Triple H doesn't just have a fucking 'plan b,' but plans all the way to 'z.' We've gotta keep our heads in the game."

With one last kick, Dean pushed his hair out of his eyes, and Roman's stomach twisted. "Everyone thought it was going to be me." His voice was barely above a whisper, his shoulders – normally so taut with pride – hunched in defeat, his azure eyes cloudy with emotions the other man knew the so called lunatic fringe wouldn't want him to acknowledge, even silently to himself. "Everyone fucking thought it was going to be me, that I would be the one to fuck you guys over. Me."

Roman swallowed thickly, reaching for his friend... no, his brother's hand. It was a chick move, and he wasn't surprised when Dean jerked away, but it didn't stop him from reaching once more.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't you. It was him. And now... Now..." Roman's grey eyes turned to steel, narrowed with determination. "We show him and Triple H and Orton what a mistake they made. If they think this is over, we'll show them it ain't. We don't stay down, remember?"

They didn't advertise it, whatever it was they were doing, they kept it on the down low. On purpose.

She knew all the things they were saying about her. That her winning the Diva's Championship was a stroke of luck. That she didn't earn it. That there were Divas on the roster who had been busting their asses for years without a title shot, and she just waltzed in from NXT and blindsided AJ, who was getting ready to leave, anyway since she and CM Punk were just months away from getting married.

It was a title transfer, not an actual match.

She knew they were all out to take what was hers. To prove that she was just a flash in the pan.

And sleeping with "the next big thing" the sure fire next face of the WWE in Roman Reigns wasn't going to earn her any points. They would just start saying she got the title by spreading her legs.

That was her reasoning for keeping what was going on between them a secret. His was that he liked to keep his professional environment, just that, professional. Also, in his own way, he understood her need to stand on her own two feet. To show everyone that she was earning her way to the top. Everyone thought he got a push and was paired with two of the best from NXT – Dean and Seth – because of who his family was. Never mind that he worked his ass off just like they had.

So while Paige was in her hotel room, contemplating, going to him – taking that chance and saying to hell with anyone who saw – Roman was making his way to her. He had finally gotten Dean to calm down and as the trainer's gave them instructions on how to take care of their injuries, he couldn't ignore the need that was worming its way through his body and this little voice telling him to go to her.

That it wasn't a sign of weakness if he went to her, if he needed to just be in her presence.

And that's how he found himself outside her hotel room.

For once, uncaring, if anyone they knew walked by. Or saw him go inside.

Paige had one of her signature Doc Martin boots laced up and was slipping her foot into the other when there was a knock on her door. She, briefly, wondered if it might be Emma. She imagined Ambrose was majorly sodded off and her best friend might need help tracking down the wayward man.

Hobbling toward the door, she opened it, and because she was unbalanced, she fell forward. Not into the softly strong frame of Emma like she expected, but the familiar hard denseness that she would recognize anywhere, especially as the smell of slowly drying sweat and a unique heavy musk all his own, reached her nose.

"Going somewhere?" He arched a brow, the deep bass of his voice, sending an intense spiral of heat straight to her core, her thighs clenching underneath of their own accord.

"I was... I, um, I thought..." She hated this, how she would always stumble, without fail around him. How just one glance into his stunning grey eyes and the sound of his voice vibrating through her body, would turn her brain to mush and set her nerve endings on fire.

She wasn't some stupid Shield fangirl who ran around squealing at the sight of him and talked about how her ovaries were exploding and called him names like "The Impregnator" or "President Panty Dropper." Her porcelain cheeks flushed a deep red, and she inwardly cursed herself. She didn't need to be thinking about things like that. Not now. Not when... She bit down on her lip, tongue circling the metal of her lip ring briefly, before she asked, "Are you all right?"

"Why ask something you already know the answer to?"

She mentally slapped herself. What a stupid question, you dolt, of course he's not all right. One of his brothers just betrayed him in front of an arena full of people and joined forces with the enemy.

Shifting her weight, the British Diva, looked up at the taller man through the softness of her lashes. "What are you doing here?"

In this moment, Roman could see that Paige looked all of her twenty one years. She seemed so small. There she was with one boot laced all the way up, the other hanging off her foot and wearing wrinkled jeans and a loose fitting tank top promoting some metal band he didn't recognize. She was biting down on her lip, nibbling the lush flesh worriedly, not like her teeth were sinking in to keep from crying out in escalating ecstasy as he worked her to the brink, his own teeth nibbling her velvet warmth with expert precision.

She wasn't the Diva's Champion. Strutting into the ring, hanging off the second rope, throwing her head back with confidence and letting out her signature roar.

She was a girl... No, he mentally corrected himself, woman who was trying to understand why the hell he was outside her door when she was the one who always came to him.

"You plan on letting me in? Or are we gonna do this in the hallway?"

"Right... Um, come in..."

He heard her wince as he slowly walked into the room. Just like he was sure she heard him doing his own wincing with every move he made.

Her touch was gentle as her fingers came to curl around the breadth of his broad shoulder. He easily shrugged her hand away and when he turned, he expected pity to be on her soft features, but there was none.

"You and Ambrose are going to make Rollins regret this." Her voice radiated determination. She sounded like she was on the mic, standing in the ring, wearing her gear – those little shorts he liked too much and the tight fitting tops that bared nearly all of her smooth stomach – talking trash at whichever Diva thought she was an easy get because she was young and inexperienced.

"Yeah?" His lips quirk slightly as she nods determinedly, kicking off the boot that's hanging off her foot and unlacing the other. "Definitely." She assures. "You'll get your heads back in the game, and make sure he knows what a mistake he made by turning his back on you, on his brothers. Triple H and Randy Orton aren't going to stand by him the way you and Ambrose did. Deep down, I think he knows that, he just... I don't know," She shrugs. "Wanted to get his moment, I guess."

"I said I was taking him and Dean with me, that I put all this next big thing bullshit on the line for the two of them. He was there when I said it. We held the tag team belts. Me and him."

"This time the Architect was too smart for his own good. He'll see the truth when Triple H and Randy Orton aren't there to back him up. And then he'll have to deal with the consequences. I imagine," Paige sat down next to Roman on the bed, wanting to reach for his hand, but deciding to hold back. "He's already dealing with one of them now. There's no way Nikki's still with him. After what happened at Payback with her sister, and now he's aligned himself with the very people trying to destroy her and her husband... She has to be gone. And neither you or Ambrose are there to help him pick up the pieces."

He didn't say anything. There wasn't anything for him to say. There wasn't any doubt that what Paige said was nothing but the truth.

Nikki, though, she could be a hot head and seemed – on the outside – to be a bitch with her nose in the air, looking down at anyone, she really had a heart of gold. So much more like her sister than she let on at face value. That's what made her and Seth – as an unlikely a pair as they seemed – work so well. They both had these big hearts and were unafraid of letting anyone in, of trusting.

The very opposite of himself and Dean who were wary and only chose a select few people to trust.

Part of him wanted to reach for his phone, to dial the familiar number, and make sure the two-toned Superstar was all right, but he couldn't.

"It's okay if you feel like you want to call him. You are human. Despite all your little fangirls," A burst of giggles came from her lush lips and his heart lifted, briefly. "Liking you to a Greek God."

"Is it cool if I stay? Jey snores like a fucking mack truck, and if I go stay with Jimmy and Naomi, she'll baby me and try to get me to talk and shit. She'll probably run out to the store and try and make keke fa'i like she did after he and Jey won their tag team titles. She nearly burned down their house doin' that."

"Ke...Ke.. Fi..." He wouldn't say so out loud, but she looked utterly adorable with her raven brows furrowed down and button nose scrunched in confusion as she butchered his family's native tongue.

"It's banana cake. My Mom would make it for me and my brother and our sisters whenever we were upset. Like, after I lost a ball game. When I got cut from the Jaguars and then when I came back to Pensacola after I left Canada cause I knew I wasn't playing football there either."

"What about Ambrose? Does he snore?"

"We both know Emma's got that covered."

For the first time, Paige is undressing Roman without sexual intent. She lets out a snort, thinking, other than his female relatives when he was a boy, this probably [definitely] the only time he's ever been undressed by a woman without sexual intent.

Being a third generation grappler, she's seen some nasty sights, but she's unprepared for the damage to his broad, expansive back. There are the barely healed cuts and bruises from the kendo sticks from just over twenty four hours ago and then there are the new, fresh wounds from the chair shots. She knows they hurt worse because they were delivered not by the enemy but by a brother.

Tenderly she traces the blistered skin, wincing, when she hears him suck in a breath.

Dropping her hand, she gently turns his waist, so their face to face. Sinking to her knees, she starts unlacing his combat boots and pulls them off, tossing them somewhere behind her before getting to work on the button and fly of his cargo pants. She breathes in deep, reminding herself, that for the first time since they started whatever this is, sex isn't on the table.

But it's a hard pill to swallow, as she's being confronted with his perfection. With that bare torso and its golden olive skin, that's made all the more better [somehow] with the scars and bruising, his tight waist and the way his grey boxer briefs sit low on the lean lines of his defined hips.

Breathing in deeply, Paige, can't stop herself from tracing the line of his left hip. But she stops before things can go the way they always do between them. Before she's on her back and seeing stars as he pounds into her velvet warmth with his expert intent, so slow and smooth, then rough and hard, knowing just when to give her each sensation until she finally comes apart and goes limp against his impressive frame.

Her shirt and jeans are gone, leaving her in only a purple bra and lacy boy shorts. She wraps herself around him, careful of his back, but still holding him closer than she ever had before this.

"I know this... whatever the fuck this is, it's not, like, a relationship," Her voice goes a little high at the word and he gives her hands, laying on his stomach, a squeeze. "You know, like, what Ambrose and Emma have or Daniel Bryan and Brie Bella, but I'm not going anywhere. Maybe I shouldn't say that, but I just want you to know."

"You should be prepared for Triple H or Stephanie coming your way. Now that Seth's gone rogue, they might want to draw you into this. Even though they don't know about what's going on here with you and me. Your Diva's Champ, and that means a hell of a lot."

"If they do, I'll tell them to go fuck themselves, and if they don't like it, I guess they'll sack me."

"Don't talk like that. You've worked too damned hard for that belt to throw it away."

"I'm a big girl, Reigns. I can handle myself."

Roman chuckled as he brought her closer, so there wasn't an inch separating the two of them. With their legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other, the only way to tell where one ended and the other began was the contrast of their skin. The porcelain of hers creating a striking sight against the golden olive of his.

He brushed her thick raven hair out of her deep eyes and gave her the softest kiss to date as their tongues tangled briefly.

Neither knew where this was going, but they could tell, it was the start of something. That there was something happening, something real that wasn't there until this moment.