Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
Content/Trigger Warnings: Some in ring violence
Word Count: 3,297
Note: Just a quick fluffy piece I whipped up for Halloween. Ignore any typos or errors.
The "dates" in this story will be mostly platonic because I realize that many of the characters are married or have significant others.
Also, Ruby Riott is still with the roster in this fic.
A Match-Making Halloween
Bayley passed by each female member of the locker room, including the correspondents, referees and crew members, and held out a bucket. "Pick your costume," she jokingly said as Dana Brooke picked a slip of paper out of the bucket. "And remember everyone… Don't say a word to anyone about your costume," she reiterated to everyone in the locker room. "The whole point of this is to be a surprise!" She gushed. "Then, when you get to the party, you find out who your date is by their costume!"
"But what if we get a lousy date out of it," Ruby Riott demanded. "Our whole Halloween night could be wrecked."
"Just try to have fun," Bayley said. "You can always dance with other people's dates if things get really bad. There's no rule against temporarily swapping dates."
You were next to pick your costume. You couldn't lie. You were nervous as hell. What if you got something lame that you couldn't pull off? What if-like Ruby said-you got a horrible guy for a date? Like Brock Lesnar? This was the first Halloween party of your life that you were dreading.
You shuddered as you reached into the bucket and pulled out a slip of paper. Making sure no one saw what it said, you read it.
It said:
Christine Daae of the Phantom of the Opera-with a sexy twist!
Okay, so the costume could have gone worse. Truth be told, The Phantom of the Opera starring Emmy Rossum was one of your favorite movies. Now, if only my date will be someone decent, you thought. You immediately began googling for Christine Daae costumes and thinking up how you could sexy it up, because Halloween…You took it seriously. But you couldn't keep from worrying about who your Phantom would be. You at least assumed the corresponding costume would be the Phantom. "God, if I get Brock, I'll straight up barf," you thought out loud.
To your surprise-you didn't really realize you'd spoken aloud-the whole locker room burst out laughing. "I think that is all of our sentiments," Tamina Snuka chuckled.
"Oh come on, ladies," Bayley admonished. "He is still part of the roster. Someone has to be his date!"
"Nonetheless," Nattie said, "If I get him, I'll be leaving the party early. That man wouldn't know how to treat a woman if his life depended on it."
Meanwhile, all the slips of paper were picked. "Okay, that's it ladies," Bayley said. "You have a little over a week to get costumes together before the party on Halloween NIght! Xavier should be handling the men's drawing right now. So no pestering the guys about their costumes!"
You rolled your eyes. Bayley was a little TOO into the rules. If you could find out who your Phantom was, you would.
You hurried to hair and makeup to get ready for Smackdown that night. You were set to have two different interviews for the evening. Xavier Woods-the newest King of the Ring, and Roman Reigns with Paul Heyman.
Just the thought of the latter made you shiver. You'd had the biggest crush on Roman Reigns for the longest time. You relished any time you got to spend with him. And he didn't seem disinterested in you, but for whatever reason, neither of you had gotten around to making the first move.
Why couldn't he be my date, you wondered. Instead, I'll probably end up with someone barbaric like Lesnar, or completely bland like… You stopped yourself there. There was no need to be mean.
Although given the choice between those particular two categories, you'd pick the latter. Bland beats barbaric any day.
You quickly sat down in the chair that the hairdresser indicated and began to get your locks styled for the evening. Then you were getting your makeup done.
WIthin an hour your hair and makeup were completed and you were ready for the interviews.
}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{
"Congratulations on the win last night at Crown Jewel, Roman," you said into the microphone. You were standing out in the ring with Roman and Paul Heyman. "How do you explain your controversial win though?"
Roman, as scripted, scoffed and looked down at you. "Controversial? Come on." He stroked his hand over the bearded lower half of his face. "I only did what Lesnar was obviously going to do to me. I just beat him to the punch. Literally. At the end of the day I went in there and did what I said I would do. I beat his ass and I walked out as Universal-"
Brock's music hit then, and you and Paul both hurried out of the ring. You wanted no part of what was about to go down. You just hoped that Brock wouldn't be too rough with Roman. You always suspected that Lesnar was just a tad jealous of the large Samoan because he seemed to work stiffer with him than anyone else-besides John Cena, that is.
You hurried to the time-keepers box where it seemed like a safe bet. From there, you watched what unfolded before you.
As his music blared, Brock sauntered down the ramp and then darted into the ring very quickly, dodged a blow of Roman's title belt and then bounced off the ropes, clotheslining Roman to the canvas. He whipped his flannel vest off and then proceeded to spin around and clothesline Roman over the top rope. Luckily, Roman landed on his feet, albeit unsteadily.
Then Brock was hurrying through the ropes. Roman landed a few hard punches, but then Brock grabbed Roman, kneeing him in the ribs several times before he ran him into the steel stairs, shoulder first.
"He's made his point," you thought out loud. "What is he trying to prove- OH!"
You had no time to move as Brock then hurtled Roman toward you in the time-keepers box. Roman went through the barricade and suddenly, you were lying on the floor on your back, the barricade on top of you and Roman on top of the barricade.
The wind was knocked out of you, because breathing was a problem.
"Oh, shit," Roman whispered, moving off of you and getting the barricade off you as well. "God, are you okay, Y/N?"
You couldn't answer. All you could do was hold your middle and roll from side to side as fire bloomed up your ribs. You did however, see the look of rage cross Roman's face. And somehow you knew…
Scripts were about to be broken.
"Ro… Don't..." You tried to utter.
But it was too late. Roman had already tackled Brock to the floor and was pummeling him with his fists.
The next thing you knew the Uso twins were running to the ring along with many other roster members. They immediately began pulling Roman off of Lesnar, and then attempted to try and keep the two separated.
SmackDown must have gone to commercial then, because suddenly Adam Pearce was yelling, "Get them out of here! Clear the ring so I can make an address to this situation!"
Reluctantly, Roman went to the back with his cousins, though he looked back at you several times as a trainer headed down the ramp to go check on you.
"Where does it hurt, Y/N," the male trainer asked you, once he crouched down beside you.
"Ribs," you choked out. "Think I broke some ribs."
"Okay, let me help you up and we'll get back to my office and check you out. Can you walk?"
"I think so."
The trainer helped you to your feet-which wasn't very dignified. Thank God you wore pants-and began walking slowly with you to the back.
As soon as you reached gorilla, you heard Roman's deep voice asking how you were, and then strong arms went around you and lifted you up against a sturdy chest. "There's no sense in you walking and hurting yourself worse," his voice rumbled in your ear.
"Thank you," you mumbled. For some reason you were getting really sleepy. "This is probably faster than waiting on me to get back there on my own."
"Hush," Roman said softly. "Don't talk. You need to rest."
"So bossy," you chuckled, then winced in pain.
"See, that's why you need to stop talking," Roman ordered gently.
You started to argue, but Roman had reached the trainer's office then and gently set you on the exam table.
"Okay," the trainer stated, pulling a curtain around you for privacy. "Can I take a look at your ribs?"
You gingerly raised your blouse so that the trainer could see them and access them more easily.
"Yeah there's some definite bruising going on at the very least." he told her. "But I don't see any swelling so that's a good sign that there are no fractured ribs. I'll make you an ice pack and have you sent to the ER to get x-rayed just to be sure."
"I'm sure it's fine," you said, accepting the ice pack the trainer made up for you. You placed it on your ribs and winced again.
"You're going to the ER, Y/N." Roman said from outside the curtain. "Can I come in now?"
The trainer pulled back the curtain and let Roman see you again.
"And I'm going with you."
"You don't have to do that, Ro. I'm sure you have a lot to-"
"Hush, woman." He chucked your chin with his knuckle. "It's my fault you got hurt anyway."
"No it isn't. It's Brock's," you retorted, "He's the one that slammed you through the barricade into me."
"Nonetheless, I'm going with you," Roman insisted. "Do you want to go in my rental or by ambulance?"
You wrinkled your nose in distaste at the mention of an ambulance. "Your rental."
Minutes later, Roman was helping you into his car and then was driving you to the nearest hospital to be checked over. He sat with you in the waiting room, walked back with you to an exam room, and even pushed your wheelchair to radiology when the doctor ordered the x-rays.
About an hour later, you were sitting back in the exam room with Roman and you were informed that luckily, you had no broken ribs. Just bruised ones. They'd heal within up to three weeks.
You were given your parting paperwork and were released. Roman again pushed you in your wheelchair out to his car where he assisted you into the passenger's seat.
"Are you feeling any better?"
You looked over at him as he started the car and pulled out of the lot. "Yeah, the ibuprofen they gave me is starting to kick in some, I think."
"Good. I'm glad."
The ride back to the hotel was uneventful and full of you and Roman just participating in small talk. It was the most you'd talked to him in a long time, so you were just the tiniest bit grateful for the injury.
"So, tell me your costume for the party," you asked, just on the off chance he'd tell you.
"Only if you tell me yours," he said with a smirk in your direction.
"And have Bayley find out? She'd torture me for years to come. Not on your life, pal."
"Okay, then I'm not telling you mine."
Soon you were back at the hotel and Roman slid into a parking space in the parking garage, then killed the engine and hurried around to your side to help you out of the large SUV. He grabbed his rolling suitcase out of the back of the car and then was walking with you to the elevators.
"Are you sure you can walk that far," Roman asked, concern etching his dark features.
"Yes, I'm okay now. Just some soreness," you replied. "Besides my legs are fine, it was my ribs that got hurt, big guy."
"Okay, half-pint," he joked, as you both stepped onto the elevator.
Within a moment, you were both on your floor. Roman walked with you to your room and stopped as you unlocked the door. You looked at him quizzically before stepping inside your room.
"Just wanting to make sure you get in okay. I'm not sure what floor Lesnar's on but I wouldn't put it past him to hassle you since he saw my reaction to your getting hurt."
"I'm fine," you said softly, with a shy smile. "Go get some rest, Roman."
"Be sure you have some Advil on hand," Roman told you. "You're probably gonna be feeling it for sure in the morning."
"Will do. Thanks for everything Roman. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, fafine laitiiti."
With another shy smile, you closed the door and made sure it was locked.
You began immediately getting ready for bed, pulling on a night shirt and washing your face at the bathroom sink along with brushing your teeth.
All the while, thoughts of Roman Reigns flowing through your head.
}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{
The nine days to Halloween passed quickly, and you were just lucky enough to put your final touches to your costume the night before the party. Your costume was going to be epic. It was a white Victorian style dress from the shoulders down to the waist and from there it was a short skirt. Not indecently short, but about mid-thigh length. And it had a plunging neckline.
You paid one of the hair and makeup girls to do your hair for you, and also your makeup. You wanted to look perfect. Not so much for your date since you had no idea who it was, you just loved Halloween and took the costume aspect very seriously.
Once your hair and makeup was done, you took a moment to admire what your stylist had done. Your makeup was simple, but elegant, and your hair fell around your shoulders in a cascade of waves and curls.
You then got into your costume and put on the finishing touches, such as your stockings and shoes.
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of your date. You wondered who it would be. You had spent several days trying not to worry about it, but the time had almost come and you were a nervous wreck.
Grabbing your little clutch purse, you headed down to the hotel lobby and looked for the venue. The hotel was supposed to have closed down the restaurant area for the evening and donated it for the WWE's use for the party. You crossed the hotel's foyer and made your way to the restaurant. Just past the doorway the party was already in full swing. You saw Becky-dressed as Princess Fiona, dancing with Seth-dressed as Shrek.
Wow, what are the odds that Becky and Seth drew each other as dates, you wondered. Looking around, you grew even more suspicious. "Wait a freaking minute," you gasped out loud, as you saw Nataylia and her husband Tyson dancing in a corner. They were dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo. But their costumes were not what got your attention. It was the fact that Tyson was no longer even wrestling, let alone was he with the WWE rosters.
"Something smells fishy," you thought out loud. Then you spotted Xavier Woods with his non-wrestler wife-and their SON!
As far as you'd heard, the party was limited to WWE superstars and crew ONLY. As per one Vince McMahon you thought with a roll of your eyes. It was a dumb rule, but you wondered why so many were breaking it. You now saw Kofi with his wife, and Drew McIntyre with his wife.
Something wasn't right.
You began looking for someone who would tell you exactly what was going on. You bumped into a sturdy frame and winced slightly as a short pain reverberated through your still healing ribs.
"Oh, sorry," you said, touching your ribs lightly. You glanced up and…
Found your Phantom.
He was wearing a mask over half his face, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a tuxedo. You looked closer at the revealed half of his face and instantly recognized him even in the dim lighting of the room.
"Roman?"
"Y/N?"
"You're my Phantom," you asked, relief flowing through you.
"You're my Christine," he asked at the same time.
You both chuckled. "Well, that's a relief," you smiled. "I was so scared I would end up as Lesnar's date."
"I guess I'd have to rescue you, if you were," Roman said softly.
You chuckled again, thinking he was joking around, but he had a surprisingly serious look on his face.
You felt yourself burn.
"So, do you want to dance?"
You nodded and let him lead you out onto the makeshift dance floor. He pulled you into his arms and you both began to sway to the slow beat of When I See You Smile.
"You look beautiful," Roman said, tilting your chin back so you'd meet his dark gaze.
"Thank you. So do you," you flushed again. "I-I mean… you look really handsome."
"Thanks."
"Do you get a funny feeling about this party," you asked suddenly. "I mean… What are the spouses doing here? I thought this party was limited to WWE superstars and crew. And what are the odds that Becky and Seth drew each other as dates?"
Roman nodded, "Yeah, I know. I don't get it. Why did we even have the drawing if-"
"Ah, you guys found each other," Bayley's unmistakable voice gushed. She danced by with her fiance. "I'm so glad! How do you like the party?"
"Well, we're confused, frankly," Roman said. "How did Becky and Seth end up together? Why are the spouses here?"
"You still haven't figured it out," Bayley giggled. "This was all a set up. Everyone was bringing dates of their choice. The slips of paper you drew? They ALL had Christine and the Phantom written on them!"
"But, why?" you asked, confusion wrinkling your forehead.
Bayley busted out laughing again. "So you and Roman would be guaranteed to get each other as dates! Because we were trying to get you two together! You obviously like each other, but neither one of you would make a move, so we did it for you."
Laughing yet again, Bayley waltzed off with her fiance.
"This was a set up," you asked him. "All along?"
"Well, I mean, I'm not really mad about it," Roman said with a smirk. "I have been wanting to ask you out."
"You have," you asked in amazement. "Then why didn't you?"
It was Roman's turn to flush. "I was afraid you'd say no."
"No way! I'd never say no to you!"
"Well, that's good to know," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Oh stop," you giggled and swatted his arm. "You have to have seen how you affect me."
"How would it affect you if I kissed you right now?"
You smiled, "You better be able to hold me up."
"I think I can manage that."
He lowered his head then and touched his mouth to yours, lightly at first. Your fingers curled into the lapel of his tux jacket, and your knees threatened to buckle. Then as you both heard the loud cheers throughout the room, Roman deepened the kiss, gently thrusting his tongue past your lips. The cheers turned to hoots and wolf whistles.
"Wow," You said, visibly dazed from the kiss.
"I may have to do that again throughout the night," Roman said with a wink. "Just to remind everyone here that you're my date."
"I have no problem with that," you said, reaching up and returning his kiss. "I may have to do the same."
You both spent the rest of the evening together dancing, kissing, and partying the night away.