Chapter Text
One wobbling, back-broken Alpha and his stiff, ample Omega trekked gingerly down five steel pan concrete steps, crossing the street side-by-side and climbing into their car with all the speed and grace of arthritic turtles.
Roman reclined in the passenger seat, while Seth fired up the engine and put the car in drive.
Roman’s not tainted.
“I don’t know about doing anymore therapy sessions, Ro,” said Seth, lacing his fingers in Roman’s. The larger man’s cheeks were red, salt strewn with dried tears, eyes wide, but unfocused.
His babies were both awake and aggravating him with kicking. They were hungry, punishing Mo because he skipped lunch again.
“At least for now," Seth continued. "I’m worried. I think you’re stressing yourself out too much, and no, don’t just tell me you’re fine. You know that doesn’t work on me.”
“I’m going next week,” said Roman, the authority in his tone informing Seth that this was not up for debate. “Sorry, I know. It’s not usually that intense. I had a lot on my mind today. I’m f-"
“Roman," Seth cut him off before he could finish that sentence.
He’s explosive, talented, funny...
“Roman,” Seth repeated in a sigh, watery eyes planted on the road as he drove.
At times Roman‘s mind was like a blocked river, his flow of thought and emotion swelled behind a cracked dam, pushing the limits of its bursting point. Articulating his needs, his traumas, was something Roman struggled with. He chose halfway through his second pregnancy to tackle his inner demons with a professional for the first time; now Seth was fatigued with worry and Roman’s ferocious mental turmoil.
Yet he swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to croak, “I’m proud of you.”
It was the only other thing he could think to say.
“For what?” Roman questioned, his tired eyes red and puffy, regarding Seth with uneasy consideration and confusion.
Seth paused, his heart hammering in his ears.
...charismatic, endearing, respectful...
It barely took him a second to find his reasons.
“For facing your fears,” Seth answered thoughtfully. “For confronting your pain. For trusting that you don’t have to endure that pain by yourself.”
They stopped at a red light, and Seth raised Roman’s knuckles to his lips and gave them a kiss. Letting the pregnant man’s hand go, the enamored Alpha rubbed his husband’s lively, swollen belly which held the joy and future they shared.
“You give me beautiful children, a happy life, an amazing career, everything. You’re everything to me.” Seth closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was the one having his own breakthrough in therapy. “I’m proud that you’re mine. I love you so much, Roman Reigns.”
He’s a good hard worker and...
The meaning and sentiment in Seth’s words were simple and sweet, but cathartic to Roman’s ears. A subtle, demure smile cracked through his gloom, the venom of the day bleeding clean from his body.
Despite how heavy Roman was, his Alpha’s words rendered him weightless in a moment.
As euphoria flooded both mates, Seth heard Roman return his words of love in their bond. The synchrony of their fused souls healed and rejuvenated them in ways nothing else could. It was a gasp of fresh air after suffocating beneath rubble.
When their hearts beat as one, all was right with the world.
VVVHHHK!
A wailing honk from behind snapped them from their amorous stupor, and Roman couldn’t help but laugh.
... he’s beautiful.
More beautiful than he had any right to be.
“Seth, the light’s green,” his beauty said with sardonic humor. Truth be told, Roman could bask in saccharine adulation all day long, but if any more people behind them honked, they were going to have a real problem.
They stopped once for supper, returning home with a fat bag of hot takeout from a reputable food truck, stocked with local, organic ingredients. Their bag was filled with sofrito-seasoned beans and rice, carne asada tacos, fish tacos, street corn, and two tall cups of ice-cold watermelon juice.
Roman ate to the point of bursting, which sent him and his unborn twins into food comas.
The sun barely began to set that quiet evening, but the tired pair crawled into bed in front of a murmuring television, ignoring whatever game show was on as they settled down together.
Life was so peaceful in moments like these. It was almost impossible to believe, after all they’d been through, that they could even be here, in a place called home, taking care of each other as husbands and parents are meant to.
Roman fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and Seth never did get his coffee earlier.
Once every care and worry etched in Roman’s face melted away, Seth drifted off to sleep with him.
---
For every tragedy that tried to topple their relationship, there was a miracle that propped them back up. They had become an infallible tower together.
Those were some thoughts Seth chewed on at one o’clock in the morning, as Roman crawled back into bed after having to piss for the fourth time.
The pups were still punishing him for skipping lunch earlier. Seth bit back a laugh at the thought of it.
Roman decided to turn off the television this time, flooding their bedroom with darkness as he tucked himself back in.
Seth leaned over and kissed Roman’s cheek, then tucked his head into his Omega’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth and scent.
Seth continued to focus on thoughts of love, hoping to lull himself back to sleep despite the searing ache in his spine.
Although the stress of therapy wasn’t ideal for the babies, Seth meant what he said earlier. He was proud of Roman, the king of bottling things up inside.
Without their deeper connection, Seth knew he would have an arduous time communicating with Roman. The poor guy was a disaster when it came to processing trauma. He always wanted to crush his pain into dust and push forward, forgetting it was ever there, so he didn’t have to deal with it; only, mental anguish never worked that way. It lingered like a bad ex with unlimited talk, text, and no fucks to give.
Presenting as Omega only complicated things, making Roman a creature of heightened emotions and an increased penchant for self-sacrifice. In their connection, Seth learned that Roman always had these tendencies, even as a child. Although he could be rough and harsh, if not downright domineering with his younger siblings and cousins, his history also showed him cleaning their wounds, confronting their bullies, hugging and kissing them goodnight, and taking the blame when their parents caught them doing stupid things.
Outside the ring, seeing others in pain was unbearable to Roman.
He made himself responsible for bearing the brunt of it without even realizing it sometimes.
If the family knew what to look for, the signs for Roman’s future Omega presentation were all there, plain for his massive extended family to see.
There was residual guilt inside of Roman, for not being what his family expected, wanted, or needed.
Seth hoped those thoughts were Roman’s insecurity talking, because he deeply resented the alternative, the insane idea that Roman good wasn’t enough to serve his family, his bloodline.
To Seth, Roman was perfect just the way he was.
---
At times, Seth met Roman beneath their consciousness, in dreams which spoke their own language.
When Seth tuned into Roman’s dreams, he could witness them awake, or drift into them asleep.
He didn’t remember much from his own dreams, let alone Roman’s. Tuning in awake was best for analysis, but not always for outcomes. At worst, they could be devastating.
When Roman dreamed of The Boss, grotesque images from the past would trigger him, back to the piercing sting of assault and capitulation. In Roman’s mind, Seth felt impotence, acquiescence, and dissociation, leaving sharp, blackened gaps between shards glass containing sordid, soul-crushing memories.
Seth could never leave this place without choking. Sometimes it was so bad he had to throw up.
He hadn’t felt raw, physical moments of debasement as Roman had, but he witnessed it through Roman’s memories, up to several times per week, when their minds were open and linked.
So the first therapist specialized in Omegas.
Seth hoped the next one specialized in PTSD.
On the bright side, Roman’s dreams got fun visitors on occasion. There was one with Ambrose wearing a hotdog costume and the World Heavyweight Championship belt. Little Athena and Lucina were his opponents, with wild bushes of curly brown hair and jagged little elbows, they laid his ass out, and pinned him for the win.
That dream was an unexpected gem for Seth and Roman.
There were other dreams that seemed like memories, because they were recurring. Another figure who occupied the deeper recesses of Roman’s mind was Sika, his father, the man whose judgment and strict upbringing struck fear into his heart.
Seth rarely met Sika in Roman’s dreams without looking over his shoulder. Meeting that man in Roman’s subconscious was like being on trial for crimes he knew nothing about. He always wore a severe expression which was disquieting to Roman and Seth.
Seth met Sika fewer times in person, though the elder Samoan never showed aggression, or even disrespect. A hint of disappointment, perhaps, but that went away with marriage and grandchildren. It seemed sufficient to Sika that Seth assumed responsibility for Roman’s care and continuing the bloodline.
Although Sika was old fashioned in most ways, he was wise enough to neither deny nor decry Nature’s will. After all, there was no escaping it.
If he objected to Seth mating with Roman, he never bothered to voice it openly like mom did.
While Roman was awake and thinking of Sika, he often returned to the same conversation, a memory, often in times he needed to face the man in the mirror with confidence and respect.
In that memory, Roman returns to his parents’ house in Pensacola, where he heals from the repulsive injury which nearly destroys his reproductive system.
Roman’s conversation with Sika always starts the same in this place, and it gets straight to the point.
“...I wish you had called me, Leakee,” Sika says in a mournful tone, and Roman flinches at the sound of his Samoan name. “Why did you hesitate?”
Roman, flustered, answers, “I didn’t, I couldn’t” seeing no other alternative. “He made me sign so much shit, he...”
But Sika lifts the palm of his hand, a gesture that says “enough," cutting Roman off before he can find more excuses.
“You are my son. We are family. You should have told me. No one hurts my children and gets away with it,” says Sika, his eyes darkening. “No one. Do you understand, Leakee? Some lines must never be crossed.”
As though for the first time, Sika approaches his son, the family Omega. He lays a gentle hand on Roman’s shoulder, then draws him in for a bone-crushing hug that could have lasted hours, assuring Roman he would set things right.
Roman, surprised, stands silent and breathless in his father’s embrace, comfort and relief flooding him as he melts into the hug, which he returns graciously.
“Do not be afraid. I will take care of everything, Leakee,” Sika says one more time, but Roman can’t stand it. Even as he’s comforted, he’s stressed, because it feels too much like Sika’s talking to a woman now, which makes Roman feel like he’s been robbed of something he can never get back, his father’s concept of him as a son.
As an Omega, he feels forced to swallow it.
The perceived feminization before his father’s eyes is what Roman, as a man, feared most about facing Sika.
The memory blacks out here. It's too much for Roman.
Nevertheless, Roman still thought of this conversation often, regardless of his mood.
Whether it brought Roman shame or comfort, the memory of the love his father showed him that day inspired him to have children.
For that, Seth couldn't be happier.
---
Seth learned in time not to blame Roman for the thoughts and emotions he kept hidden. It was a deep part of his upbringing, never to complain, always to push through pain. The behavior wasn’t only inherent because of instinct, but because of what he was taught as far back as he could remember.
Roman had accustomed himself to holding on to pain, absorbing it so deep into his person that it would become lost even to him.
Even so, their minds flowed so deep into one another it was sometimes hard to tell who was who or what was what. Differentiating between recurring thought and random memory, between anxious thought and stark reality. Sorting through the trifles of a lover’s fractured mind was far more daunting than sorting through one’s own.
Seth had witnessed much in his connection with Roman.
The knot, the first one, was an event he could access only through Roman’s memory.
The blackout dipped Seth so far beneath his consciousness, all thought and control were lost to pitch black nothingness. For a moment in time, he winked out of existence.
His body acted of its own accord, absent of Seth, but following his last conscious thoughts, which were filled with Roman, and the maddening reality that if he didn’t claim that Omega right away, someone else was going to, consent be damned.
Seth knew he couldn’t count on his colleagues to be virtuous, to keep their filthy hands, knots, and jaws to themselves. The only other person he trusted was a Beta, and Roman was just so, much too...
Fuck.
Seth set himself up to mate Roman without a second thought.
It would be decades, if not centuries before the average person grew accustomed to this id-driven mating tactic. Seth regretted that he didn’t meet Roman somewhere better, cleaner, private, anywhere but a shitty backstage restroom in the middle of a show.
Before Seth knew what happened, he’d been so proud of his capacity to resist, to hold back, to spare Roman of impromptu carnage, up until he learned that he’d lost it.
One time, Seth lost himself entirely, and Shawn and Hunter both saw it in Roman’s buried, jumbled, wounded, dissociated memories, even before Roman did.
One time was all it took.
If Seth had been in control, maybe he could have fought. Maybe they could have escaped together. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
If Seth had a dollar for every maybe that plagued him, he’d be a millionaire.
---
As the years went by, the bond in their minds and hearts entwined and crystallized, like Shawn and Hunter’s bond before them.
Neither Seth nor Roman pictured that life in their mid-thirties would bring them to a modest family home in San Francisco, tucked away in a private community where they’d raise two sets of twin girls in peace, away from run down neighborhoods, picket lines, and vultures, otherwise known as the nosy press.
Omega Rights are Human Rights
What was once graffiti was now sold on t-shirts in downtown boutiques by the shore.
The world was a work in progress.
Only some people had enough wealth and privilege to retreat into hidden homes.
Finding sanctuary was an instinct all people shared, though often, it only existed inside their minds.
Not Seth, though.
Financially, he was set for life, and all he had to do was mate and breed the world’s greatest Omega, then shatter his spine on the job for ten years straight to earn a tangible, real life sanctuary in which to raise his pups.
All that was missing now were his daughters.
Once kindergarten was complete, Seth and Roman would collect their daughters from Florida to start their new life. The birth of their baby sisters was so close, and they didn’t want to miss it. It was only a matter of days before the family was reunited now.
After so many years on the road, it was almost surreal to Seth, getting to spend real time with his girls, all four of them, before going back to work.
Along with his swollen, aching back, the anticipation kept Seth awake at night.
There was so much to do still, but Roman and Seth were both compromised.
It was Seth’s job to go down to Florida and get the twins, but he wasn’t in the greatest shape to fly or drive across the country.
He’d waited too long, perhaps pushed too hard. The inflammation in his back hadn’t eased up like he’d hoped. Some days he still needed his cane.
He supposed they could postpone travel a few weeks as a last resort, but the babies were due soon, and they wanted the girls to adjust to the many changes before starting a new school year.
With little time to spare, Seth was still scratching his head on how exactly they were going to get the girls. Roman’s mother driving was out of the question, and the cousins and siblings Seth contacted were either working or strewn too far across the country. Not to mention, WWC’s caravan was bound for their first Montreal pay-per-view in five years.
The favors Seth could phone in were truly few and far between.
It annoyed Seth that he needed this. As Alpha, he should have been able to get up and gather his own children, regardless of where in the world they were, or how shitty he felt.
Submerged in a decade’s worth of full-time work, Seth hardly spoke to anyone outside of the company, or his immediate family, which now included Roman’s family. It was hard to say if the few favors he could phone in would even honor his request.
Even if they did, it was hard to imagine his dear mother-in-law handing over her precious rugrats.
Despite how every bruised, battered, and broken inch of his overworked body took that punishment in support of the Reigns family, Seth wouldn’t put it past his dearest in-law to deny him the right to take his own daughters. It was almost funny to imagine hobbling by himself across country, looking like the hapless loser in a wild bar fight, with his fresh busted lip, two splotchy black eyes, crusty butterfly stitches above the left brow, spotted with purple and green bruises up and down his everything. At least his hair was intact.
Only the busted lip was Roman’s doing. What a thing to explain that was.
One chain-link steel cage, 25-foot drops, four Alphas, tables, chairs, fire hydrants, and way too many kendo sticks explained the rest.
If Seth took one more beating from one of those sticks, he’d burst open like a damn piñata.
In conclusion, Seth phoning in his favors was tricky, as far Mrs. Reigns was concerned. He had Roman’s feelings to consider as well.
Roman’s mother was terrified to fly but insisted she could drive. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree where stubbornness was concerned in the Reigns family. Although it wouldn’t be the first time, a round trip on the road between Florida and California was not ideal at her age. The tornado twins with their ceaseless energy and constant need to occupy themselves would be a nightmare to travel with on long, flat stretches of highway through states so big they never seemed to end.
And that was only considering the safe stretch of highway.
Most people who drove within a hundred-mile radius of Las Vegas or Mexico City kept a firearm in their glove compartment, just to feel protected. Roman’s mother was no exception.
Cross country road trips in the world of Alpha and Omega were tough to do with children, because safety wasn’t always likely, let alone guaranteed.
Seth felt better taking his chances on flying the girls out, with the help of people he and Roman both trusted.
While Seth contemplated the pitter-patter of tiny feet and rambunctious giggles that would soon fill every inch of their home, he grabbed his phone and texted two guys who owed him their nuts on silver platters, but he’d settle for their help with moving instead.
Roman continued to sleep beside him, eye lashes twitching as his peaceful snores filled the silence.
“That’s right, Omega. I’ll take care of everything, you’ll see,” Seth whispered to his sleeping mate, kissing the fringe of his loose black curls and breathing in his ambrosial scent.
It felt so good to be home.