so, it's been quite a while. i've never actually written like this before, so opinions/criticisms are entirely welcome! a huge thank you to dashinginconverse, as always, for encouraging me to get some more content up after so much time. she really is the best.

apologies if the narrative is a little off, 2012 was... a lifetime ago. this is in 3rd person (of course) but it'll switch between both kaitlyn's and seth's perspectives

fluffy angsty humour-ridden 2% smutty sethlyn right now as that's my true comfort zone

She can't exactly pinpoint when exactly it all begins.

It sort of unwinds within and around every other hectic matter happening in her career. A few years of dodgy matches and uncomfortable short-shorts culminates into the newfound responsibility of, you know, a sports entertainment career.

Kaitlyn always did pride herself on being a colourful character, someone willing to take up the next dumb gimmick with an open mind, and this was partly the reason she managed to snag the season three NXT win. So she thought. It wasn't exactly the impeccable ring ability, was it? She'll always remember, though, Matt Striker strutting towards her after a particularly bad ring showing and him telling her, "it's the personality that gets you places, kid," (kid? Who was he again?) Turns out, he was right. Management liked her ridiculous hair, bulky thighs and sense of humour, it seemed.

It's really weird. And minor stuff starts happening. And she's just watching all the other girls, trying to catch onto their way of going about things, because it seems to work for them. And then there's Nattie - quite literally the most humble and caring person Kaitlyn has ever met in this line of work, damn it - and she's so eager to get Kaitlyn into the swing of things, naturally, because Nattie knows what she's doing and she knows what management likes and Nattie is Nattie and it's the more than enough to make Kaitlyn a thankful, emotional mess.

She begins improving under her guidance along with extra work in the performance centre, and things run more smoothly. Then she's suddenly setting up this title match with Eve Torres. Beautiful, experienced Eve Torres who's not afraid to push Kaitlyn to her recently discovered limits. She's still adapting to the different styles and the demanding schedule. As well as juggling all of this with trying to make friends, too. But a lot of them sort of look at her weirdly, and she can't see her own face, so she supposes her expression reads 'Positively Terrified - Please Don't Stare At Me', and she gets on with her night. It's all a little bit awkward - a lot better than what it was, but still slightly foreign. She perseveres, sure, and stuff improves even more. Then October hits, and so does everything else.

She finds out Eve had ordered Aksana to carry out these random, minor attacks that seemed to span out over a few months, apparently, and if Kaitlyn wasn't so caught up in proving her worth by winning the Divas Championship, it would be quite scary. And creepy. It didn't bother her as much as it should have because of how aware of the competition she was. Plus, masked attacks were a little childish in Kaitlyn's book for a bunch of grown women. But she has no room to judge, she thinks, staring down at her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle socks that actually make her ring boots tremendously less uncomfortable, thank you very much.

So, great, it's houseshow event time with Nattie, and Kaitlyn has herself and Eve's upcoming title match in her mind.

"Please stop over-thinking, and I know you are because you keep staring into space and messing with your hair." Nattie's zipping up a white ring boot that has a pink heart in front of a silver Canadian flag on it. Kaitlyn loves those the most. "Those curls took too many attempts for you to be combing your fingers through them, girl."

"I'm literally about to run out there, all crazy and loud, and sweat through my hair. And get actual strands dragged out of my head by Aksana," she deadpans.

Nattie's shrugging, laughing at the woman. "It's all about the entrance, honey. No one cares how you exit. Unless, you know, it's with a loss under your belt." She frowns at that. "Let's go!"

Kaitlyn follows like a lost puppy, pulling at the strings on her weird bra top thing that's a really pretty shade of dark pink. They pass through the huddles of guys and girls backstage who're all too talkative and alert for a houseshow, she thinks.

And then there's this guy.

After about three seconds of glancing, she sort of thinks she recognises him. He's wearing jeans and a black t shirt. At a houseshow. As if this is the place to hang out and eat muffins at the catering table. He has a black cap on, his ponytail hanging out of the hole in the back, and dark brown hair with an out of place blonde piece. Who the fuck decides on these hair choices? At least hers is sort of evenly distributed. And it's—oh, Seth Rollins.

It takes a minute or so for her to realise she's stopped, her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, looking at this dude from NXT, at a main roster live event, stuffing his face. He notices her and shoots up his eyebrows with a nod of his head. "Hey," is the muffled noise that somehow makes its way past the muffin in his mouth when he realises she's looking at him like he's just done something embarrassing.

She could laugh, but she doesn't get to, because Nattie suddenly has a firm hand tugging at her elbow and she finds herself being dragged to the gorilla position. "You hear that? It's your music, so let's get 'em, two-toned."

"Wow. Your pep talk is really something else, Nat." She pulls the elbow out of the older woman's grasp and shoots her an entertained look. "Nicknames on the other hand..."

"Kaitlyn!" Nattie's then jogging out there practically, Kaitlyn following suit, being greeted by cheers, blinding lights and Aksana and Eve shooting daggers. Whatever, she thinks, she has her lucky socks on.

It was bordering on being a successful tag, hell, it was a successful tag. Kaitlyn always felt she performed better with Nattie in her corner in a way that a nerdy kid with self esteem issues would perform better in a game of baseball with, say, his Mom in the Bleachers cheering him on. Yeah, that's it.

Live events were less demanding and had less camera angles that needed pandering to, so it was an opportunity to try out new things and think up something else to cover them up if they went wrong. Kaitlyn decided to try out this leg submission that Nattie had put time into teaching her, bless her heart, and it quite honestly could have gone so much worse. It didn't so much boost Kaitlyn's ego enough to distract her from the blinding pain in her torso from Eve's vicious knees.

The two women had since showered and changed, clean of sweat and approximately three hundred layers of make-up and hairspray. Kaitlyn honestly felt naked. The small, awkwardly-angled hand dryer had to act as a makeshift hair dryer, so Kaitlyn's hair was still damp in the messy bun she had tied it in. Bed, right. Not going out in public. Where there's people. But Nattie has her phone in her hand and is saying something about getting drinks with Layla tonight, possibly, Kaitlyn assumes. But Kaitlyn is really trying to focus on shaking off the pain and not facing the world with a make-up free, blotchy face and messy hair. She's really thinking about how worth it the pain is for the warm sheets in her hotel room that she'll be getting back to by the end of the night and—is he really still here? It's been like forty-five minutes.

No, she's not seeing things, Seth Rollins really is still standing backstage doing seemingly nothing. He's still stood in the same spot, phone in hand, coffee in the other, fully clothed, definitely not sweating. It would make sense, maybe, but Kaitlyn was well aware of the match card for tonight and she was positive that his name was nowhere to be seen on it. Neither was the other guy's. What's his name, Leakee?

"Are you with me?" Nattie asks, thumping her forearm.

"I—yeah. Do we really have to go out tonight, Nat? I'm still on Houston time here. I'd like to bed." She adjusts the bag on her shoulder so it's not trapping the skin of her collarbones.

"You'd like to bed?"

"You know they have chocolate strawberries at this hotel?" she muses, completely ignoring her own incorrect phrasing, as well as Natalya calling her out on her incorrect phrasing. "Any time you like. Four in the morning if I wanted."

Since her and Nattie are rooming together, it wouldn't be a problem for her to pass on the invitation to get back and sleep. Sleep, that sounds nice, and Kaitlyn's eyes are suddenly drooping.

"Why don't I take this," Nattie offers, tugging at the duffle bag on Kaitlyn's shoulder that the other woman willingly lets her take. She swings the bag over the free shoulder that isn't carrying her own bag. "I'll put all this stuff in the car while you get a coffee, hm?"

"Mm."

Nattie's surprisingly okay with the two large bags as she hurries off far too fast for Kaitlyn's brain to register. She's managing well, at least from Kaitlyn's peripheral vision, which is becoming increasingly less effective by the second. Coffee, right.

She walks over, takes a cup and places it underneath the coffee dispenser. Man, would she prefer hot chocolate. But that makes her sleepy and comforted and she knows she'll sleep through her gym alarm that really does go off too early sometimes. Why can she still feel a pair of eyes on her when she's trying her hardest to stay consumed by her own sleepy thoughts?

The coffee is in the cup, along with the milk, now awaiting far too much sugar. She turns to the table and grabs a few sachets, shaking the packaging between her fingers so the sugar is distributed to the bottom before tearing off the corner with her teeth. He's seriously still watching her.

"Hello," she says casually, paper still between her front teeth, sounding drunk probably. "Nice showing tonight, there's no more muffins left because of it." Is she really in the position to be sharing a snarky joke with this guy who she sort of knows; who is sort of staring at her? She dumps the sugar in the cup anyway, stirring, waiting for a response, which is a scoff.

She's still talking. He's about to respond and she's still talking. "It doesn't do us much good, does it? I mean, the fruit basket and nutrition bars are a nice gesture but they're gone way before the cake and stuff, which is what most of us are left with, and my ring gear is getting a little tight, you know?" Fuck, stop talking.

He shrugs, smiling, and she realises she hasn't met his gaze yet, so she does. "Who am I to deny a good blueberry muffin and go for the celery sticks there instead?" he asks.

"A smart man, but not a man of fine tastes."

"I'll say," he adds, frowning fondly. "Why do you look like you're about to fall asleep? Tough crowd?"

She takes a big gulp of coffee that is definitely still too hot to pass down her throat. "Jet lag. Eve also took a liking to kneeing my ribs in, so I treated myself to an extra long post-match shower. And these sweatpants are really comfy. Makes sense, right?"

"Absolutely."

She nods, mostly to herself. "You know Survivor Series is in literally less than a week?" she asks, more emotion in her voice than she's had all night. If Seth nods, close to responding, she doesn't notice. "It's my third shot at the Divas Championship. Crazy, right? I think people are getting quite pissed with how many chances I'm getting. This dumb NXT rookie who doesn't take ring technicality seriously."

"I don't see it like that. You earned 'em, number one contender matches and all, so."

She looks up at that, eyebrows narrowed in confusion as she takes in his grin. He's really noticed? He's either a total creep, or an observant individual. Both sound creepy. Plus, he's grinning. He's probably thinking about how ridiculous her hair looks. And, fuck—she has zero make-up on. She chooses to ignore that fact, as well as how aware this man is of the Divas Championship picture. Weird. "You're quite weird," she tells him, still frowning. "Who goes to a houseshow, just casually? Did you wrestle? Did I miss it?"

He laughs. "Well, you are half asleep. Could've done a championship match run-in and you wouldn't have batted an eyelid. But thanks, I guess." He leans over to throw his empty coffee cup in the trash next to Kaitlyn. He's checking his phone again. Her phone is vibrating. It's probably Nattie. Shit, Nattie exists, right.

"Well, I should," her thumb gestures over her shoulder. "Sleep. Hotel. Chocolate strawberries, and all."

"You're quite weird," he frowns with his words, and Kaitlyn would be offended, she should be, except she's not. She deserved that, probably. "But I can roll with it. I'll see you at Survivor Series, yes?"

"Are you just going to creepily hang around backstage? Are you actually part of the tech crew now?"

His eyes widen. "You could say that. I think. I'll definitely be there, though, with some friends." He's giving himself a look as if he's talking nonsense. He really is, Kaitlyn thinks, even to her thirty-five percent functioning brain. "Whatever, it'll be a fun night, and I'll see you there."

"Sure," she agrees, shrugging. She fishes her phone out of her pocket to see three missed calls from Nattie. She's a little offended, really, because Nattie left her in quite a docile state and anything could have happened, and she just stuck to waiting in the car and calling her repeatedly. She swipes to answer, met by Nattie's signature Mom Voice, but it's sort of drowned out by Seth shouting 'good luck this Sunday!' over his shoulder before walking off with the tall dude. Leakee, is it? He just stood there silently as they spoke, she remembers. Huh.

She shakes off the interaction and makes her way to the parking lot, almost jumping out of her own skin at the loud car horn that follows. Thanks Nattie, I would never have noticed the only outrageously white car there—not at all.

"What took you so long?!" she's demanding as the other woman swings the passenger seat door open and slumping in. Nattie takes the phone from Kaitlyn's hand and connects it to the auxiliary cable, shuffling the Faith No More discography that Kaitlyn obviously has on there.

"Uh. Coffee, yeah. Bed now."

Kaitlyn's hands are in her lap and her head is lolling over to the side where her window is before Natalya can answer, clearly immune to the sugary coffee that she never finished. She drifts off eventually to Mike Patton's ridiculous, least-soothing-thing-in-the-world vocals.