Paper Trails

Kenna slipped herself under the water, felt her back and her ass slide along the ceramic as her head was submerged— because under here, away from the noise, she could be strong, she could be her without needing to be anything else in particular.

The Samoan who had invited himself over hadn't left her side and though she'd acknowledged her growing feelings for the man, she wasn't ready to be with him all the time.

She needed her own space.

A shadow was cast over her face, and she wasn't surprised that when she opened her eyes, the wavering vision of Roman Reigns was staring down at her. And she wasn't surprised when he reached a hand down into the water and pulled her up and out just to press his lips against hers.

"Trying to drown?" he murmured against her skin.

"It's nice when there's nothing," Kenna whispered back, and she curled her fingers around his arm for more support, "what are you doing in here?"

His dark eyes were unreadable as they scanned her face, but he didn't back away from her. "Your phone was going crazy, so I had a look just to see whether it was anything important… your brother's called you ten times in the last five minutes, so… I don't know whether you'd want to know about that or not."

Her heart dropped. She didn't understand how the stupid thing was still alive, but she did understand that because she hadn't been careful, she'd put herself into another compromising position. So instead of getting defensive about it, Kenna let her eyes slide shut in exhaustion as she sighed, her face a picture of tiredness. Because she was— she was beyond tired of fucking up and being caught out, and Roman must have taken that a different kind of way, because a smile pulled the corner of his mouth up.

"Tired of dealing with him, huh?"

She nodded. "Not interested in whatever he's got to say, 'cause he's still tryna convince me that this is a bad idea."

"That what's a bad idea?"

Kenna looked at him a bit closer and inclined her chin in his direction. "You. That The Shield's a bad idea. That trying to take over is a bad idea, 'cause when I push him, he'll push back twice as hard, doesn't matter who I am."

He still had that unreadable glint in his eyes, like he was trying so hard to believe her but didn't know if he should. "You're a bad idea," he murmured instead.

And her mouth pulled up slightly, because he was right.

Raising an arm to wrap her other hand around the back of his neck, Kenna slowly pulled them both down until her chin was at the water, his nose right at hers, where he was so close to the water his loose hair had already fallen into it— but he didn't look concerned with how close he was getting at all.

"I could pull you in," Kenna breathed against his lips, "just like that, I could pull you in."

Roman didn't move and his face didn't change, his eyes still burning, and she went to draw him under the water when the grip on the back of her neck tightened, his free hand curving around her waist. Then, just as Kenna's eyes were beginning to widen, Roman pulled her completely out of the tub with little effort and slammed her against the closest wall.

He drunk the winding gasp that flew out of her mouth and pushed his tongue against hers, overpowering every part of her body, and she let her nails rake down his bare chest as she tried to find some kind of leverage— but she was soaking wet and slipping against the wall, and as powerful as Roman was, even he was struggling to get a good grasp on her.

"Bed," she hissed against his mouth, "now."

They were barely moving before she was kissing him again, open and hungry mouths, and Roman stumbled backwards when she jumped and locked her legs around his hips. But then he was feeling his way along the wall and holding onto her with one arm as tight as he could.

The sliding doors to her private alfresco were open, the navy curtains shifting slightly in the wind, and the hairs on Kenna's arms stood on end as they entered the room.

Roman groaned into her mouth when her hand fisted in his hair and somehow he found a post of the canopy over her bed and pressed her back against it, the lighter curtains hanging on it quickly dampening under her wet hair.

He tore his mouth away from hers and gazed at her, his eyes smouldering. "You're a bad idea," he murmured slowly, repeating what he'd said earlier, "but I don't give a fuck."

What she would give to be inside his head for an hour…

And he was about to resume how he'd been taking her apart when Kenna turned her face slightly, not letting his mouth claim hers. Roman paused and his grip became tighter on her body, but she needed to say it, she needed him to know before they went any further just what her feelings were for him— because she was falling for him. She'd known him two weeks and she was already falling for him, and Dean's words rang mockingly through her head, you like 'im, don't you? You fell into your own plan.

She just didn't know how to tell him.

"Ken…?"

"This isn't just fucking to me anymore."

It was as blunt as anything she'd ever said and Roman pulled away to stare at her again. "Then I won't fuck you."

What followed was tantalisingly hot, white ecstasy that made her heart warm and her bones like fire. He'd moved slow and fast, kept it intimate by facing her the entire time, by letting her breathe his air like he was a lifeline, and then he'd sunk his face between her thighs and bruised her tender skin with his beard, wouldn't stop even when she was writhing beneath him and crying his name.

He held her to his chest when he was finished and stroked her drying hair and peppered kisses along her hairline, and she traced her fingers over the raised skin she'd caused with her nails.

She forgot what it was like to worry about letting the secret slip and she forgot about Dean, and more worryingly, she forgot what she was here for, why she was in bed with him in the first place, why she was doing her brother a favour by staying here.

Because in that moment, all Kenna was thinking was that maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Roman Reigns around all the time.

—

They arrived to the arena on Monday afternoon in tandem— Roman walked in first with his suitcase and she followed him slowly. She didn't know what was waiting them when they walked into The Shield's locker room, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to be there for the confrontation with Roman and Dean. She didn't want to see Dean, let alone be in the same room with him, and Roman had felt her anxiety the entire ride to the arena to such an extent he'd been whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

Yet that was the thing when someone broke into your house; nothing was calming. Her safest place had been violated by Dean Ambrose and she had been violated by him as well. Why should she even have to look at him?

Roman stopped them outside of the room. His hands angled her jaw up, his eyes soft, and he slowly put his head against hers. "You got me, alright? You're not alone."

But she was, and her heart sunk.

"'ey, 'bout time you two showed up!" Dean yelled the second they entered the room. "Was beginning to worry that I'd scared ya' off, Ken."

As Kenna wheeled her suitcase in, her glare was icy cold. But she didn't say anything to him and instead went to sit over next to where Seth was warming up— which, coincidentally, was the furthest corner away from Ambrose, and his amused blue eyes followed her the entire way.

He almost jumped when he turned back to Roman glaring down at him.

"Rome—"

The Samoan's tattooed forearm was at his neck and then pushing him backwards, knocking a table over as Roman slammed the other man up against the wall, and Kenna watched with wide eyes as Ambrose floundered, apparently both shocked and confused at what was happening. "I find out you jeopardise our situation again and I'm gonna knock your teeth down your throat," Roman hissed down at him. "You went a step too fuckin' far Ambrose, but this is the last stunt you're gonna pull, y'hear me?"

Dean squeaked out a "yep" and Roman's arm disappeared quick as lightening.

Beside her, Rollins had slowed his warmup to a stop and silence enclosed the four— Roman was still glaring at Dean, Dean was looking at everything but Roman, and Seth was glancing between all three of them like he was slowly beginning to comprehend what had happened.

"You okay?" he quietly asked Kenna.

"Rattled," she confessed, and she spared one last look at Ambrose before turning to smile at the half blonde. "I'll be fine."

It didn't take long for the tension to be so stifling in the locker room that Kenna had to excuse herself. She supposed that there would be some fallout between the stablemates, that Roman would divulge to Seth what Dean'd done, but she couldn't be completely sure. All she knew was that she didn't want to be in that room any longer than she had to be.

And, on top of that— she had a match to prepare for.

She would wear what she always wore to the ring when she was set for a match; just because she'd changed where she wrestled didn't mean she had to change her look.

Kenna slipped into a deserted room and made sure, double checked, that the door was locked before she started pulling off her clothes. When she was left in her nude underwear and strapless bra, Kenna set to work. She pulled on long black socks, leather thigh garters which she hooked over black shorts, and then black timberlands. Next was the zipped top. It was white and turquoise and black, a practical but intricate sports bra with a racer back. Kenna secured black knee pads onto her legs and then started to tape up her wrists with the same white tape her brother used. Across her forearm, she tied a black bandana with skull patterns— and then she covered it up as she pushed her arms through a leather jacket.

It was only when she started shoving her street clothes back into her bag that the iPhone in her pocket buzzed with a message tone.

Be careful, we've got visitors.

The message was undoubtedly from her step-brother, and Kenna frowned as she studied the words. We? Was it someone that they both had to be cautious with?

Silently, she wondered when his adversaries had become her adversaries.

And she still hadn't told him about Ambrose breaking into her house.

That was a conversation for another time, when she was confident enough that she could talk her brother down from choking Dean out on the spot— they might not have been blood, but Kenna was still his little sister.

RAW was fully underway. She could feel thousands of voices shaking her bones and she took a deep breath, knew that she would be out in that crowd and subject to the judgement of millions. They could despise her as a person and Kenna wouldn't mind, but if they disrespected her in ring ability? Her anger would tear apart the arena.

And as Kenna was walking through the back halls, a sudden chill fell over her spine.

She knew without even looking around who exactly it was that stood near her, because there was a reason they went with the cool blue lighting and mystical smoke for his ring entrance.

"Mark…" Kenna said as she turned slowly, gazing up at the tall man without trying to seem intimidated or starstruck as she always seemed to be. "Hi."

The corners of his mouth tugged up. "Evenin'."

"You, um—" Kenna broke off and looked around, took a step closer to him. "Hunter know you're here? I got a message earlier…"

"Oh, he knows."

An uneasy feeling settled across her shoulders and she glanced back over her shoulder. "Michelle here?"

"Just me," Mark smirked. "I know what you're doing?"

"What— what, me?" she stumbled over her words, eyes wide, and had to drag in a long breath. "I'm not doin' anything, I'm just—"

"Not with me. The Shield."

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

For the first time in a long time, Kenna gaped up at him without anything to say. Because she could see it in his eyes that he knew everything without even having to be told— her brother wouldn't say anything and neither would Stephanie, so that wouldn't have ever made sense. He just knew.

Like he expected her silence, the Undertaker continued. "You be careful with those lot. They're bonded by a lot more than just a common goal. You come in between them and they'll rip you apart." His eyes narrowed as if he were taking a closer look at her face. "All the makeup in the world can't change that look in your eyes, Kenna. You weren't made to play this kind of game."

Her chin raised. "I may not be as heartless as Stephanie, but I can play this game."

"Should you?"

He was staring down at her with unreadable eyes, flickering above her head for a moment before settling back on hers. "A piece of advice— being heartless might be the only way you can protect yourself."

There was a hand at the small of her back then and Kenna visibly recoiled, snapped her head around to glare at whoever it was, and was then met with Dean's glowering face. When she turned back to regard the Undertaker, he'd disappeared into the shadows.

Perfect.

"You touch me again and Roman won't be the only one knocking your teeth down your throat."

Paper Trails by Darkside is the chapter title, aka my favourite song at the moment- it's so chill and sexy at the same time? to me, at least. would love to be in an empty arena and have this play around me.

THE UNDERTAKER? yeah, i went there. did i do him justice? i like to think that he's so extremely observant that he knows a lot without having to be told. check out my polyvore (raaeebruce) for Kenna's ring gear- (i think it's called Kenna #8), because i suck at describing stuff. also, i really really really enjoyed writing the start of this chapter, where Ro doesn't trust her but is in too deep to even care.

next chapter we finally get to see Kenna in the ring against Alicia Fox, and some fallout between The Shield when things don't really go Roman's way...

to Raquel the writer (thank you!) and quinzel harley (your reviews make updating worth it! im glad you enjoyed the last chapter as much as i did, it was so incredibly fun to write!), thank you both so much for your reviews.

much love x