a/n: this has been brewing in my head ever since seth tweeted about watching sasha and bayley's incredible match at nxt takeover way back in the summer, tbh. i just about died when he said he wanted bayley to be called up to the main roster after someone asked him who he wanted to be called up next. it stalled out several times, but i really wanted to write it, so here we are. /originally this was supposed to be a one shot, but i got carried away, and i had to break it into two parts. it would have been more than 10,000 words if i didn't. the second part is rated m for a reason, so you've been warned.

~*~i like you first, second and third~*~

pairing: seth rollins/bayley

summary: he wasn't supposed to like her at all; she was bows and hugs and friendship, a my little pony in a human body, and he wasn't any of those things, but god help him he did like her, probably too much

rating: t

~*~part one of two~*~

At the beginning of this event if you had asked Seth who he would be congratulating as the NXT Women's Champion, he would have told you Sasha. She had everything it took to be champion. Not just the in-ring ability to compete at the highest level, but he personality to go with it; brash, unapologetic, willing to do anything for the gold, unafraid to step on the toes of so-called 'friends.' Not unlike himself, he realized, smirking as 'The Boss' made her way to the ring.

In the end, it wasn't Sasha who he was waiting for backstage. It was Bayley.

Though, he knew the brunette could wrestle, her personality left much to be desired. She was the opposite of Sasha. She cared what people thought about her. She was the type who would apologize if you bumped into her. She had the work ethic, sure, but she did not have the guts to take what she wanted, everyone else be damned. She believed you could be champion and have friends.

At the same time, she was nothing like he expected. When he thought she wouldn't be able to get off the mat and fight back, she did. Underneath the flowery exterior of an excited fangirl, was a toughness that almost seemed foreign when compared to her personality. She was gritty and did not give in, expending every ounce of her energy and strength, but she continued to fight. It was almost, a rueful smile coming to his lips, Dean-like in that way, like she wasn't smart enough to know she was supposed to falter and Sasha was supposed to retain.

But that's not what happened. Sasha did not retain and, she was the one standing tall, as the newly crowned champion.

Before he approached her, he adjusted his own championship belt and fixed his hat. He chuckled, low, at the child-like wonder on her face as she stared at the belt in her arms. Her whole body was shaking, clearly in disbelief. Her mascara was streaking from tears and when he was right beside her he heard, as she pressed the title to her cheek, "Pinch me."

Reaching, he did just that; tugging on the skin just above her elbow.

"Ow!" She yelped, jumping and whirling all in one motion, once perfectly swept high ponytail, flopping. "Who did..." Every other word died in her throat. Doe eyes went wide as realization took over. "Oh. Em. Gee!" A high-pitched squeal only dogs could hear escaped. "S-Seth R-Rollins j-just p-p-pinched m-mme!" She sputtered.

"You did ask for it, toots." Smooth and cocky as ever.

"Y-you h-heard m-mme?!" Still sputtering and on anyone else this would have tried his patience, but it was almost like he was rooted in this spot, unable to move even if he wanted to. "H-how l-long have you been ss-tanding there? Wait..." Shaking her head as brows furrow down, making her look like a confused puppy. "Why are you standing there?"

"From one Champion to another, congratulations."

"Y-you're conn-gratulating me?! Seriously?! Schweet!" Another high-pitched squeal only dogs could hear and he worried if she let out another, he'd be deaf. "Um...Wow... So, like, you're amazing, and I know I'm not supposed to be all star struck and stuff and you must get this all the time, but..." A blush coming to the tan of her skin and peering shyly behind long lashes. "Could we, like, take a picture? Not for like the company and stuff, but um... It's just I'm a huge fan. Ever since your indie days and you don't have to. You're probably like super busy and stuff, and Summerslam is tomorrow, but..."

"Sure," Seth cut her off, reaching into the pocket of his blazer for his phone. "Really?!" He didn't think it was possible for her doe eyes to be any bigger, and he told himself as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, that he was only doing this so she would shut up.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Right in his ear as she launched herself at him and thankfully he was able to catch her before they both came tumbling down.

And then she pressed her lips to his cheek, pulling away with a loud smacking sound before taking off in the other direction, leaving him stunned.

"Wow..." A breathless murmur, in awe, and then "Oooomf!"

The next thing Seth knew he was looking up at the ceiling and his body was weighed down by something... No, not something – flowers – the feminine scent tickled his nose, and he looked down; a crown of shining brown hair was in his field of vision. The brown head raised itself and there were doe eyes staring back at him as tan cheeks flushed before the eyes quickly looked away and then the body attached to the brown head began scrambling to get to their feet.

A flash of sunny yellow lace caught his eye, disappearing underneath the black of a skirt, and holy fuck... He swallowed, thickly, realizing he just saw Bayley's panties. Shaking his head, he was about to push himself off the floor when a femininely curved hand – nails decorated with little bows, of course – reached out. His entire hand engulfed hers, nearly taking her wrist in, as well, but she lifted him to his feet with ease.

"I am so, so, so sorry." She apologized, hanging her head. "I know, I know I should be more careful... Carmella's always telling me so, but it's just, like... Whoa; I'm backstage... at Summerslam! I didn't mean," A mirthful chuckle, lips curling slightly. "To run you over like that."

The flash of sunny yellow lace was back and all he could see was the length of her legs. Smooth and tan. They went for miles, it seemed, before the seam of her thighs – no doubt toned – became hidden by the flow of the black skirt. Not skin tight and barely there like every other girl backstage. Taking a brief glance down, because how could he not, the caps of her knees were hardly visible and yet, somehow, he almost swallowed his tongue.

What the fuck?!

"No harm, no foul." Gruff and distant as he brushed invisible dirt off his new white gear.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours before she finally broke it, awkwardly giggling, her cheeks now the color of a fire engine and his stomach felt funny, like, it was twisting itself into knots. "So... um, not that you need it, but..." So soft he barely heard it. "Good luck."

Shaking off the feeling in his stomach, he slipped easily into his cocky facade. "You're right about that, toots, I don't need luck. Cena will be lucky if he doesn't walk out of here on a stretcher. What Brock Lesnar did to him last year is going to look like nothing when I'm done with him. Take a good long look because the next time you see me, I'll be holding his United States Championship on one shoulder and my WWE World Heavyweight Championship on the other."

The match didn't go exactly the way Seth had planned. Stewart showing up out of nowhere to hit Cena in the back with a chair was unexpected, but all that mattered was he set out to do what he said he would; become the first wrestler ever to hold both The United States Championship and the WWE World Heavyweight Championship.

He didn't expect anyone to be waiting for him backstage. With Jamie and Joey still recuperating after everything that happened before Battleground with Lesnar, there wasn't anyone on the roster – excluding Hunter and Stephanie – who would congratulate him on his historic win.

And he supposed he should care that there wasn't anyone waiting for him, but if things like that mattered – having someone waiting for him – he wouldn't have been able to end The Shield. Briefly, his mind flashed back – bottomless chocolate eyes, sparkling like amber gems, pert cherry lips blooming into a blinding smile – but quickly, he pushed those memories aside.

Fingers sifting through his hair, he blew out a heavy breath and then there was a soft voice in his ear, "Even without that assist from Jon Stewart, I still think you would've won."

Flowers sifted through his brain and the scent tickled his nose. Turning, he almost expected the lovingly sculpted angles of another brunette's face to be staring back at him, and to be honest, he breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't her. Though, he doubted she'd be saying things like that to him. She could barely look at him, even now, a year later.

Instead of Brie, there was Bayley; the apples of her softly molded cheeks stretched from the smile on her lips, not blinding, but penetrating nonetheless.

"It was a great match, not that you don't already know that. I just thought... Um... I, dunno," Not the fire engine flush from earlier, but a soft pink, highlighting the tan of her skin, the way makeup did for most women. "From... Um..." Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, flowing skirt swirling around the calves of her legs. "One Champion to another," A breathless giggle as a ringlet of brown hair gets tucked behind her ear. "Congratulations..." A pause and then an excited sounding, "Double Champ."

She's gone with a small little wave, not giving him a chance to respond, and all he can do is stare at her retreating form; the sunny yellow of her spaghetti strap top is nice against the tan of her skin is the only thought running through his mind.

"i would like to see nxt women's champ [bayley]. she is my favorite who is not up here and being used. so hopefully she gets a chance soon."

The answer was out of his mouth before he even realized what he said. Interviews, after a while, all started to blend together; a mix of the same questions, just worded differently. It was hard to vary your responses after hearing the same variation of "who should be called up next?" twenty or thirty times.

For a brief moment, he almost thought he said Balor`, which may have been the answer he intended to give, but instead he said Bayley. That was the more truthful answer of the two, if he were being honest. Somehow, she had found her way under his skin. With her colorful gear and her ribbons and hair bows. That soft but megawatt smile. Her grit and determination, but her undeniable love for the sport coming off her in waves.

He even liked the little fan that was front row at Full Sail every night to see her. Bizzy... No, he shook his head... Izzy, that's what her name was; Izzy. He even liked her, too; mimicking the brunette's every move to perfection. Her own ribbons hanging from her arms and snap bracelets wrapped around tiny wrists. Her side ponytail bobbing and brightly colored headband fastened tight.

A heavy breath escaped the Iowan as he rolled over to get up from his bed. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he tied the once two-toned locks into a messy bun and just as he was about to pull on a pair of sneakers – he felt the sudden urge to run – his phone chimed, alerting a once sleeping Kevin who was suddenly barking and running around the room, as if he was looking for the sound. He shook his head at the tiny dog and reached out to the bedside table, grabbing the device.

For a brief second he thought it might be Zahara. She was famous [infamous, more like it] for late night calls and/or texts. He bit down on his lip, debating whether he should even bother to look. If he ignored the chimes, she'd eventually give up. Or she would just leave him with another photo to delete.

Something, however, told him to look and when he did, his brows furrowed in confusion.

thanks and then a heart eyes emoji.

Quickly his phone chimed again and from the same number came another text. i mean, um, thank you for what you said about me to peter rosenberg on hot 97 this morning. my phone's been blowing up about it. that was really nice of you.

Bayley? How did she even get his number? Before he could text anything, another reply came; sorry, i should've probably told you it was me. and by me, i mean bayley. don't be, like, mad or anything, but i got your # from paige. i know you guys don't hang out anymore since the whole... thing... and cause she's with dean, but she never deleted it and i asked... well, not really asked, i demanded, sort of, that she give it to me, so... um, thanks. sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite.

Huh?

Again, his fingers are too slow and quickly there's another text already showing up on the screen of his phone.

can we, please, just forget that i texted you sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite? like, pretty, pretty please? it's soooooooooooo embarrassing that i just did that, and i would really like to forget that i just did. i mean you're, like, seth rollins y'know? who texts that to seth rollins?! besides me... anyways, i'm rambling and just, um.. y'know good night.

It's almost as if she's in front of him right now, he can picture her so clearly in his mind's eye. Curled up in her bed down in Orlando. Her hair's pulled messily atop her head. Her face is scrubbed clean, maybe a little shiny after having just been washed. She's wearing actual pajamas – flannel, even down there were it barely gets below 60 at night – and they probably have cupcakes or ponies, maybe even spaceships decorating them. On her feet are horribly bright fuzzy socks.

Kevin is pawing at him, drawing his eyes away from his phone, and he thinks about her little dog; Flex, he's probably curled up with her, the feminine curve of her hand gliding along his fur before she grabs him and snuggles him, tight, against her face, whispering 'good night' and setting him back down.

Holy fucking shit... What the hell is going on?! Shaking his head, he grabs Kevin's leash, hooking the clip into the dog's collar and tells him, "C'mon, boy, let's run."

Because maybe if he runs, he won't be thinking about her. Cause he definitely shouldn't be thinking about her.

Honestly, Seth didn't know what he was doing here; here, being at Full Sail for the latest in the NXT Takeover series. He had bigger things to worry about, like, a Demon. Not that he would ever admit that Kane had him shaken. But after almost being dragged to hell, who wouldn't be looking over there shoulder? However, at Hell in a Cell, Kane would get a taste of his own medicine. Not only that but he would be fired as Director of Operations, losing what little power Hunter and Stephanie still found him worthy of holding.

And maybe he should've been more focused on the up-coming clash at Hell in a Cell, but he found himself here, and deep down he knew why.

"Ya got this, Bay." A thick New York accent pierced his thoughts, and turning to his left he found her standing about three feet away. Carmella aka The Princess of Staten Island and her best friend was rubbing her shoulders and pumping her up. "Ya gonna show up and show out tonight, gurl. Ain't nobody comin' into your house and takin' that belt. Not no Boss, not nobody. Tonight ya gonna show the world what ya made of. Ya got this, ya hear?"

"I hear." Soft as she giggles, pushing her best friend away, playfully.

"I can't wait to get out there with ya, gurl. Gonna raise ya hand and everyone will see what we already know; ya for real."

"Thanks, Mella."

He makes his move after the Staten Island Princess takes her leave, bounding toward her boys Cass and Enzo.

"I'm just returning the favor, Champ," He doesn't realize how close he actually is until the scent of flowers tickles his nose. It takes everything not to breathe her in. Her scent – sweet but not overpowering, not like the heavy perfume wafting from the Diva's locker room – is so tempting, it's a wonder he hasn't buried his nose against the curve of her neck. "And wishing you luck this time around."

Her breath quickens while her throat bobs unsteadily and he sees the goosebumps rise on her flesh. Briefly, he wonders if anyone – any man – has ever been this close to her, has ever been able to do this; make her unsteady, make goosebumps take over her skin. He wants to be the only one, but if there was another, he knows he can do so much more to her than this, and he'll be the first to make her feel this way, that's for damn sure.

"Oh..." Breathless, bottom lip trembling just so, and he smirks. "You don't think Izzy will mind if I steal her front row seat tonight, do you?" Just to see what happens, he leans in closer as he speaks and drags a finger from her bare shoulder to her wrist, feeling the goosebumps for himself, but what's branded against the flesh of his finger is actually the softness of her skin; so smooth, it's unreal, and not the raised bumps.

"I don't... Um... Huh?" Blinking doe eyes are glazed over and unfocused and he chuckles, low, in his throat.

"Kill it, Martinez. Show Banks what you're really all about. Maybe," He tilts her chin upwards. "Even break out a little Davina Rose tonight, huh?"

He's gone before she can say anything, unaware, that hazel eyes had been trained on him from the moment he approached, watching his every move like a hawk. Slim arms folded under full breasts and glossy lips twisted into a concern frown. Perfectly manicured brows burrowed down as the mind underneath shimmering blonde hair spun with the possibilities of what he, of all people, could want with her best friend. Her sweet, caring, beautiful best friend who was nothing like him.

The match is every bit the match they put on in Brooklyn, but it's also more, somehow. There she is, standing tall, championship belt slung over her shoulder. Hunter raises her hand in victory and presents her with a large bouquet of flowers. She's shaking in the hulking man's arm, face buried against his neck and he's engulfing her, flowers forgotten on mat, for a moment.

"AND STILL YOUR NXT WOMEN'S CHAMPION, BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYLEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

"Wow..." Breathless and in awe as Bayley's dark eyes take in everything that is Monday Night RAW.

"Don't go getting stars in ya eyes." Carmella teases, jabbing her elbow into Bayley's midsection. "Ya the biggest deal goin'. Your name's the one on everybody's lips."

"Yeah..." Bayley murmured, cheeks heating up. Even though, everyone in the media – from Rolling Stone to Pro Wrestling Illustrated to ESPN's Cheap Heat podcast – and everyone backstage (at NXT and on the main roster) was saying she and Sasha put on the match of the year, it was still difficult for the brunette to wrap her mind around, that she was still champion and that she had retained in the first ever Iron Woman match in WWE History.

"Look who's here..." Raspy and low, a shiver unfurling along her spine, and her cheeks are hot for an entirely different reason. She'd know that voice anywhere. Her stomach twists and drops and falls like she's on a roller coaster all at once. She almost wants to grab Mella's hand to steady herself. He has her so off balance and he's not even close enough for her to smell that tantalizing scent; sandalwood and leather.

"Hi..." Shaky and so soft, she wonders how he could hear her, if he even did.

"Aren't you just the toast of the wrestling world?" Bayley swallows thickly as he advances, those bottomless cocoa eyes, piercing her. It's like they could see right through her, as if she was stripped of everything and was standing naked in front of him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the salacious thought, of actually being bared for him, and she's sure her whole face is as red as a tomato.

"And here you are..." A throaty chuckle from somewhere deep in that toned chest of his. "Gracing us little people at Monday Night Raw with your presence. Just what did we do to deserve such an honor?"

"Toast of the wrestling world? Yeah, I dunno about that," Shy and just barely above a whisper. "All I did was go out there and leave everything on the line. I didn't do anything special, anything different than anyone else would have done. And what little people? You guys... You... This..." She spreads her arms and spins around. "Is the big deal. Like, whoa, I'm at Monday Night Raw. It's crazy. Even if I'm just here to do a title swap thing with Charlotte for the website."

"So humble..." A disapproving click of his tongue and a shake of his head. "You should change that. Don't be afraid to own your accomplishments, to admit that you did things in that ring that no one else in that Diva's locker room down at NXT could do. You're the NXT Women's Champion for a reason. You have talent to burn and a work ethic that doesn't compare. Own it. Brag. It won't hurt if you do. Besides," Tempting lips curling into the signature smirk, she should hate, but turns her legs to jelly. "I believe a very handsomely talented someone once said, it ain't arrogance if you can back it up."

"Bragging isn't really..." Before she can say anything more, Carmella's grabbing her hand and practically dragging her away saying, "Don't listen to Pepe Le Pew. Bein' humble ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. Stay humble and you'll keep that championship around your waist."

Even when they've disappeared around the corner, Bayley still feels the weight of his stare, of those beautiful bottomless cocoa eyes. How she was standing from being that close to him – even if it was just for less than two minutes – she didn't know, but her blood was simmering hot inside her veins and there was a haze of lust clouding her brain; two things she'd never felt before.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Rollins?! Bayley Martinez?! Really?!

Pushing his fingers through his hair, he swallows thickly, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes close. He was trying to will her out of his brain, to not be consumed by that blush across the softly molded apples of her cheeks. To not go down the road of imagining the blush tinting every inch of her tan skin. What she would look like – her body tinted rose – underneath him and bare, silken brown hair splayed around her head like a halo. Lips plumped and bruised from his own. Her breasts – pert – the most perfect shape for the heft of his palms, heaving with strained nipples begging for his touch... Fuck.

He doesn't know he's thrown the folding chair against the wall until he hears, "Whoa, Pepe Le Pew, what got your leathers in a twist?"

When he whirls around and finds Carmella's curvaceous silhouette lazily leaning against the doorway of his locker room, he realizes how much he misses Jamie and Joey. Though, The Princess of Staten Island, with one charming grin of her pouty lips would have had them melting, and she still would have found her way into his locker room. So maybe he really shouldn't miss them, and one beat of his heart later, her insult finally registers, making him wrinkle his nose.

"Pepe Le Pew? Really?"

"Ya still got that stupid blonde streak in ya hair. Even if it's mostly gone, but whateva. I ain't here about the hot mess that is ya hair. Ya listen to me, pal, and ya listen good. Ya keep ya grubby paws to yaself when it comes to my gurl. Don't ya be getting any nasty ideas about her. She don't need ya whisperin' and lurkin' around like the snake ya are."

It takes everything not to laugh out loud. Isn't this precious? It's almost like the way Roman and Dean relish in being each other's guard dogs, content to always be chasing him, as long as they have each other. It's pathetic, really. She – Miss Bada Bing, Hottest Chick in the Ring – reduced to this; protector, second banana, content to just be languishing in the middle of the pack, just another pretty face amongst pretty faces.

Stroking his beard, he circles the golden haired beauty, like a jungle cat stalking prey.

"Aren't you precious?" Chuckling low, a finger reaching to stroke a lovingly sculpted cheekbone. "Protecting Little Red Riding Hood from the Big Bad Wolf, is that what you think you're doing, Carmella?"

"Get ya hands off me! Don't think I don't know what your game is, Rollins. Ya tryin' to get ya hooks in my gurl, but I ain't gonna let that happen. Stay away from her. Ya don't deserve someone like her. She's sweet and wonderful and kind. She got a heart of gold and you? Ya heart's as black as they come. Ya dirty rotten lyin' snake, and if you think of tryin' anything, I'll get Romeo to stop ya in ya tracks. Think twice about steppin' toward her. Cause Romeo is just chompin' at the bit tryin' to turn you inside out."

With a dramatic flip of her luscious golden locks, the Staten Island Princess sashayed out of the locker room, pert nose in the air.

The show is over and Seth finds Bayley backstage. She's standing outside the locker room that Roman and Dean share, and most men would've ran after Carmella's threat. An angry Roman Reigns can shake the foundations of even the hardest men. And while there is no J and J and Kane has gone off the deep end, the Iowan could careless about the Samoan coming after him.

The Staten Island Princess clearly forgot that he was the one who held Roman's leash for three years. Bray Wyatt may have tried to get inside the other man's head by using his daughter, but Seth was the one who knew Roman. There wasn't anything inside Roman's arsenal that he wasn't prepared for.

"Let me guess..." A rueful chuckle as he approaches the brunette from behind. "Carmella is telling Roman all about how I'm trying to get my hooks into you." He's close enough, his lips hovering just above her ear, that he an see the shudder rolling through her toned body.

"What..." Head tilted to the side, brows burrowed down. "I don't understand..."

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, tugging on the flesh and he swallows thickly, wondering how such an innocent act can make his blood sing with pure heat. He shakes his head, wanting to be rid of the sinful images his mind so easily conjures up. She's underneath him, naked, doing that – teeth sinking into her bottom lip, tugging on the flesh – while his face is buried against her most intimate place, breathing in her arousal, tasting the dewy skin as she bucks and writhes.

Fuck.

"It's cute, really, how protective she is of you..." There goes his hand, reaching to push a lose strand of hair from her ponytail, behind her ear. "Like you can't fight your own battles, like you can't make your own decisions. Too bad I'm not afraid of Roman. If I was, I wouldn't be standing here, which would be a damn shame." When his voice turned from low to practically growling, he doesn't know, just like he doesn't know when he reached out to grab her waist, so she was secure against him, no space between them; her every inch pressed against his own.

She fit perfectly. If they were dancing, the crown of her head would have been tucked underneath his chin. But all he could focus on was the feel of her. She wasn't anything like Leighla; curves for days, soft and plump in the most perfect places or Zahara who was all hard edges and tattoos, a fantasy from his darkest places brought to life. She was toned, obviously, she worked out but it wasn't about looking good it, it was about having the strength necessary to compete in the ring. But even underneath her toned muscles, she was still a woman. There was the weight of her breasts against his chest; soft and pert. Her waist, slim, but curvaceous; hinting at the Latina blood in her veins. Just like the obvious curve of her tight bottom.

"Seth..." A hot pant against his neck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just his name slipping from those lips, hot, but tinged with an innocence only she could be capable of, is enough for him to come undone.

"You're not some fragile little thing that needs Superman," A sardonic chuckle. "To protect you. You can handle yourself. If you didn't want me to be close to you, if you didn't want me," Bending so his lips are attached to the prominent edge of her jaw. "You wouldn't let me get within ten feet of you. You know what you want..." Kisses from the edge of her jaw down the elegant slope of her neck, teeth nipping at skin along the way. "I know what I want."

"Wha..." Maybe actual words, a word, escaped but to her it sounded like a barely there squeak, just some strangled noise escaping the vice that was her throat. "I... You want... Me?" Disbelief coating every syllable because this – what he was implying – didn't make sense. How could he want her?

"I want you..." Husky and low, pure heat culminating in the pit of her stomach, her thighs rubbing together. "And if there's one thing – the only thing – you need to know about me, I always get what I want."

"Me?" It's like a broken record, the disbelief, breaks through the heavy fog of lust.

"Don't sound so surprised. Don't act like I shouldn't be capable of wanting you. Most of all, don't you dare act like you shouldn't be wanted. I may be an arrogant asshole, but if I didn't want you, I wouldn't be standing here right now. What man wouldn't want you, Bayley?"

How she's standing she doesn't know. Her entire world is nothing but him. The only thing she can smell is leather and sandalwood, a tantalizing combination. The only thing she can feel is the deliciously hard planes of his lean, cross-fit toned physique. The only thing she can hear is the own beating of her heart, wild and erratic. Her pulse is thrumming in her ears, gaining speed like a train careening down the tracks, unable to stop.

Swallowing thickly, she doesn't know what to do. She bites down on her lip, practically biting a hole through the flesh, her mind swirling with a decadence she didn't know was possible. He was close enough to touch, close enough that she felt as if she could melt into him, like they'd be one person if he were any closer. He was far from her child-like fantasies of princes on mighty steeds. If anything, he'd be the villain, dressed in black and determined to steal the princess away from her true love, ruining a perfect fairytale.

But... Taking a step back, to clear her head, she stares into those bottomless cocoa eyes and all she wants is to know the feel of his lips, of his hands, of his body without the barrier of clothing between them. She bets his lips would feel wonderful – their full shape perfect for kissing – moving in perfect time with hers, guiding her to open her mouth at just the right moment to slide his tongue inside. His hands would glide, effortlessly, over her skin; knowing exactly where she needs them at the exact time.

And his body... Oh... She's sure every inch of her skin is blushing. "Kiss me... Please."

She feels ridiculous, asking – more like begging – him to kiss her. She doubts Zahara ever begged or asked, and she's afraid he won't, that the moment – the lust and the heat – it's all ruined because she sounds like a twelve year old and what woman would be begging for a kiss from a man like him? Not any of the women he's been with. They knew what he was made for. They knew how to take from him the pleasure a man like him inspired. They didn't hesitate, they didn't beg... They could give him what he wanted and he could give them what they wanted. She couldn't give him what he wanted, she wasn't...

Everything disappears, suddenly, when there's the pressure of his lips on hers.

Their lips – liked they had kissed a dozen times before – moved in perfect sync. Her mouth acquiesced to his, letting his tongue inside to caress with her own. Her head spun and her body melted into the strength of his muscled physique. Her breathing was heavy, trying to get air back into her starved lungs after they pulled apart.

"Wow..." Breathless as her eyelashes flutter.

Seth swallowed thickly, taking in the sight of Bayley's softly rounded face. Her tan skin was flushed beautifully, this perfect pink that made her all the more pretty. Her lips were plumped and bruised, forming an attractive 'o' shape as she worked on regaining her breath. His chest couldn't help but swell with pride from the knowledge that it was his lips that stole her breath.

He bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers. "Don't let Carmella tell you what to do. If you tell her anything, make sure it's what I told you; I'm not afraid of Roman. She may be your friend and I get you take that to heart, but that doesn't mean she runs your life, even if she may have the best of intentions."

"Mella wouldn't do anything..." He sighs heavily, pushing his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding. "She wouldn't do anything to hurt you," Through gritted teeth, neck in his vein pulsing. "Is that what you were going to say? Because guess what? She's already trying to by running her mouth and saying she'll sic Roman on me, like, he's some rabid dog, if I hurt you. She doesn't know me. And look, I'm not perfect and I've done things someone like you wouldn't approve of, but I'm not trying to do anything except figure out what I feel for you."

Bayley bites down on her lip, drawing the flesh between her teeth and gnawing. She can see the chair shots Seth delivered to an unsuspecting Roman and Dean. She can see the look of utter shock on Dean's face after Roman's limp, battered body falls forward. There's Hunter – the same man who treats her like one of his daughters – smirking and that gravel tone pointing out, "I always win," as he draws Seth into a one armed hugging, looking like a proud father for all the world as he admires the handiwork left in the ring; Dean and Roman, laid out.

Her stomach twists and she feels sick. There's bile coating her throat and her heart tightens, remembering how upset she had been by seeing Seth turn on the men who called him 'brother.' It brought her back to when Charlotte had done the same to her. Of course, they got past that and were friends again.

Seth would never be friends with Roman and Dean again, though.

"Don't look at me like that," Seth's voice – desperation coloring every syllable – brings her back. "Don't look at me like I'm a..." He doesn't finish because the door to Roman's locker room opens and the big man is stepping out, Carmella not far behind.

"And just what do you think you're doin'?" Seth rolls his eyes at the pretty blonde, but any retort is drowned by Bayley's soft voice coming through, "I don't know what you want from me, what you want me to say. Or what I'm supposed to do now after... what happened."

"I don't want anything from you. No, actually that's not true; I do want something. I want to know that any decision you make in regards to what happened between us is your decision and yours alone. That's all I want."

Seth is gone and Bayley can't help but follow his every move until he disappears around the corner. Her head is spinning, mind still absorbed in the feeling of his lips on hers. Still reeling from the fact that Seth Rollins had kissed her. Had told her he wanted her.

"All right, back it up..." Carmella starts, but Bayley cuts her off. "I appreciate you trying to look out for me, Mella, I really do. That's why you're my best friend; you always have my back, no matter what. Except... This... What's happening between me and Seth, I don't need you to get all protective. I need you to let me figure this out. I know you don't like him and I understand why, but he isn't trying to recruit me or anything. He..." The brunette can feel her cheeks heating up. "Likes..." Her tone is shaky and the awe is evident. "Wants," The breath she didn't know she was holding is released as she says, "Me."

"Be careful." There's Roman's familiar baritone and Bayley sighs heavily as she pouts. "I'm not JoJo, y'know. You don't have to protect me from the scary monsters under my bed."

"I know you ain't JoJo, Bay." The big man's tone is gruff, but there's a softness of affection underneath. "But Seth's not who I thought he was. If he tries anything, all bets are off."

"Bayley..." Carmella's hazel eyes were pleading. "He's not..."

"Stop, Carmella. Please, stop. I know you're just being a good friend, and I appreciate that, I really do... But I know what I'm doing. Well... Okay, I don't really know exactly what I'm doing, but to be fair you don't know Seth. I know he's not who you thought he was," Bayley's looking at Roman now, her head is bowed slightly and guilt is evident in her softly toned brown eyes. "But I don't know him, and I want to; know him, I mean. So just let me, okay?"

"Fine." Carmella relents, huffing. "I just..." She pulls the brunette into a hug. "Don't wanna see ya get hurt, that's all. Especially not by some fuck..." There's a jab to her stomach from Bayley's elbow and grunting, the blonde breaks the hug and holds up her hands in a gesture of peace. "A'ight, a'ight you ain't gotta tell me twice. I'll step awf, okay? Jeez. You don't gotta give me a Bayley to Belly or anything."

"I won't give you a Bayley to Belly as long as you let me get to know him and don't try to interfere."

Carmella bit her lip, nibbling softly, as she studied her best friend's familiar features. Inside Bayley's soft eyes she could see how serious she was about wanting to know Seth. She had never seen the brunette like this before. Her stomach tumbled a bit and there were butterflies. The look in Bayley's eyes, she knew that look, it was there when she would look at Roman.

She just hoped Seth treated Bayley the way Roman treated her.

"You really like him." Demure and so different from the harsh Staten Island accent Bayley was used to. It made the San Jose native blush as she rocked back on her heels, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I really do."

"I won't be steppin' on ya toes. I just want what's best for ya."

"I know you do, and I love that about you, that you want what's best for me; it's what makes you such a great best friend, but I can take care of myself, and... Oh," A wistful sigh. "I've just never felt like this before, Mella. I need to know where this will end up. I need to get to know him. Maybe then I'll finally stop thinking about him."

"Just remember, I will beat his skunk boy ass down if he does anything to hurt ya."

"I know you will..." And as Bayley loops her arm through Carmella's, they leave the arena that way, arm in arm with Roman not far behind, shaking his head as they start singing the theme from Laverne and Shirley at the top of their lungs.