She winked at him before turning back to check the biscuits. She slid slightly down the counter and picked up the bottle of amber courage, pouring the first glass and turning slowly, a mischievous grin on her face and an eyebrow lifted. She sauntered over to him and held the glass out invitingly.
“I know you want this…” she asked him in a teasing tone. She gestures for him to sit in a stool by the bar and gently pushes the drink into his hand, letting her fingers graze against his a little longer than necessary.
"Not wasting any time, are we? If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were hoping to lower my inhibitions and take advantage," he joked, but there was a sliver of hope in his eyes as he grinned at her and refused to pull his fingertips from hers.
She had a boyfriend, but there was still a part of him that wondered why she sought him out so actively whenever they were in the same city. She wanted something from him. Maybe it was guidance, maybe it was attention, but maybe it was something more... and if it was? He wanted the same from her.
She slipped away from him and back to the kitchenette as he took his spot on the stool. He sipped the whiskey, feeling the deep burn rumble down his throat and into his belly as he stared at her quietly. He was nervous; unusual for him in an intimate setting like this, but he had made it a general policy not to associate with unavailable women for this very reason. He wasn't the type to make an unwanted advance. He wasn't the type to ruin a relationship. Some may consider it a flaw, but despite some unsavory actions over the years he tried to be a good person.
He didn't always succeed, though.
"Did I mention that you look beautiful? Honestly, like, stunning. You didn't have to do that for me," he winced, her back still turned to him, he had hoped for something smoother. "Honestly, like, stunning" is what he came up with.
She hesitated, turning around so he couldn't see her flushed cheeks and the stupid smile on her face. She stirred the stew one more time and produced a bowl, setting it down on the counter. She could feel his eyes on her. She closed her eyes and willed herself to maintain her composure, but it was a battle she was going to lose.
Betsy turned slowly and met his eyes with her own. She could still feel her cheeks burning and her smile plastered, but there was a warmth in his eyes that she couldn't help but return. She took a tentative step forward, though she wasn't sure why. Her head was still spinning as she slipped into one of her many languages.
“Vous êtes vraiment trop gentil dans vos mots ... Bien que, si je peux dire ... Regarder vous, c'est comme regarder le soleil. Nous ne devrions pas regarder trop longtemps. Glorieuse et éblouissante.”
She cleared her throat and giggled nervously, turning back to the counter. She silently berated herself as she dishes out a bowl of the stew and slipped the biscuits onto a platter. ‘Betsy, you’re an idiot, you know that?’ she asked herself.
Slowly, Betsy turned back towards James with the food in her hands and set it out before him.
“So um… Universal Title match, eh? What’s the deal with this opponent of yours? I could have sworn she was a he not too long ago… Or am I completely losing it?”
She stumbled over her words, desperate to calm her racing heart. She found her gaze slipping from his eyes down to his lips and without thinking, she reached up and touched the spot where his lips had met her head. She caught herself and walked quickly to the counter to pour herself a glass of whiskey from the top shelf. She chugged the first glass in a rush and refills it quickly, but doesn’t touch the second batch yet. She grabbed the bottle and made her way over to the loveseat adjacent the counter and leaned back into the comfortable cushions, unable to meet his eyes for several long moments.
Ugh. Blingsteen. The mere mention of the name is enough to cast a shadow over the entire room, but as he glanced at her and she finally worked up the courage to return his stare he felt the darkness break and the warm sun beaming upon him again.
"No, you're right. She was a he, or still is. Who the hell knows," he grumbled to himself, taking another sip of his whiskey, "If I was able to rationalize that fucks actions I wouldn't have spent so many nights sleepless and cursing the XWF management that let him run amok in the first place."
He stopped suddenly, realizing the facade of a perfect gentleman had slipped ever so slightly with his language. He scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly.
"Sorry, he, she, it... it just has a way of getting under my skin, you know? It's given me one headache after the other, trolled me at every turn, dodged every challenge and backed off every one of his that I accepted... I've burnt out all the rage I had for him. I'm just bitter now."
He drained the rest of his glass, twirling it in his fingertips and staring absently at the floor. The moment had finally come for The Peoples GOAT to shut up the man (or woman) that nobody else could, and take his rightful seat on the throne of the greatest promotion the world had ever seen... and he just didn't feel the part anymore.
"God, I'm killing the mood in here, aren't I? Sorry, I've been waiting to see you for a while, the star's just aligned at a strange time for me."
Her eyes widened as his words washed over her like a warm wave. ‘I’ve been waiting to see you’. HE wanted to see HER? Betsy couldn’t fathom why, but she COULD sense his distress by her question. Without thinking on it she rose from her spot on the couch and walked back over to him. She stood over him with the bottle of whiskey in her hand and as his eyes came up to meet hers, she set the bottle down on the counter. He stopped spinning the glass as she reached out and ran a hand through his hair before letting a finger trail down his cheek.
“Forget I mentioned that.”
She ran a tentative hand down his arm and put it over his own. He looked down at her hand over his. Her breath caught audibly when he released the glass and entwined his fingers into hers and looked back into her eyes. She smiled softly, although sure he could see her heart ready to thump right out of her chest. She licked her lips and cleared her throat, trying to find words but her voice came out low and husky despite her best efforts to maintain her friendly decorum.
“What are other plans, then? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you sniffing around outside of XWF.”
She finally closed her fingers over his hand and felt the warmth of his larger and strong hands. When she released, she felt his reluctance to do so. She flattened her palm against his and left it there for several long moments. Her eyes continued to linger over his face as she felt the electricity and tension growing between them. It was only once she started to feel a bit dizzy that she realized she had been holding her breath.
She exhaled slowly and pulled her hand away, pouring him another glass of whiskey. She took a sip of her own and relished in the comforting burn in her belly, calming the butterflies. As she turned to sit back onto the couch, James caught her hand and guided her to the stool next to his.
He couldn't let her get away that easily. Not when she had brought herself in so close, almost wanting to be caught in whatever trap he could have mustered up. She sat, still avoiding his eye contact as he watched her intently. He held her hand, the two sitting quietly in each others company for what feels like an hour. Finally, he let go.
She has a boyfriend, he had to remind himself. He was home, injured and possibly alone in a hospital bed reading tweets about his woman meeting with a man that he'd be right to worry about. James respected that man, he had no ill-will or disrespect to make him cross that boundary between men. If Betsy came to him, it was one thing, but he wouldn't try and sway her.
"Well?" she asked him, quietly and with a soft giggle.
He realized the length of time that had past since she asked him of his other plans wasn't exaggerated in his mind, and she had been patiently waiting. Flustered, he stammers for an answer.
"Shit, um, well, I've got other matches outside of the XWF, and there are always companies that want me to make the full time leap," he admitted, though the details weren't relevant to get into yet, "There's something romantic about the idea of conquering that place again, though. I was a kid when I was there before, and there was always a Steve Jason or someone lingering backstage reminding me that I wasn't ever going to be THE guy."
He took a deep sip of the whiskey, half the glass disappearing with a flourish as he contemplated his past and stared Betsy in the eyes.
"This feels like it was meant to happen, does that sound ridiculous?" he asked, praying for her to assure him it doesn't, which she mercifully did, "After five years of being exiled and wiped from the history books, they welcome me back? They name me #4 on the Top 50? I win the High Stakes match, and earn a shot at a record tying third Universal title reign and my 100th XWF win in the same night? I finally get recognized as the greatest, in any era? It's like a movie, and good or bad I want to see the ending. There just haven't been any strong female leads yet..."
He didn't look at her. His stomach turned in knots as he tried not to vomit at the cheesiness of what he found himself saying. She doesn't seem to mind it though.
“Mai dire mai, suppongo... forse se giocate bene la tua mano…”
Nerves caused Betsy to slip into Italian. Although she was fairly positive he didn't know what she just said, she did, and she looked away in embarrassment. He slipped a finger under her chin and gently turned her head back towards him. His eyes were warm and hopeful and she knew hers were green pools of forbidden desires that burned bright as embers. Her face turned into his hand as he cupped her face gently.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep slipping into all these languages. Habit, I suppose.”
She swallowed hard and pressed her lips into his hand. She turned her face again and sighed. She reached for her glass. It was her turn to take a long swig. She finished her glass and filled it for the third time. Only now, the comforting buzz began to hit her and she felt some of her nerves slipping away. She tapped a well manicured nail against the glass as she desperately tried to keep the conversation geared toward neutral topics.
“I remember Steve Jason, vaguely. I used to see the twins he and Heather Halliwell had together at the shows when she brought them with her.”
Betsy knows she’s about to start rambling. She gazes deeply into James’s eyes and gets lost in them for a long while. She didn’t know how long and she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered at this point but this moment she was in with this particular man.
“Listen… Even when you were just a kid in the business, you were still one of the best. I remember watching you and admiring what you were capable of, even in your earliest days. You’ve always had this finesse about you… I can’t describe it, but you’re very suave, well-spoken while still being able to be an absolute savage in the ring. It’s very rare one can bring all of those components together and look so good doing it…”
Her voice trailed off into a nervous giggle as she realized she was rambling. The whiskey had at last began having the effect she was seeking. She raised her glass to her lips and took another deep swig before continuing.
“XWF… I’ve had a love-hate relationship with that federation for a long time. While it’s had some glorious years with the best talent around, it’s also had it’s fair share of rough times when many mistakes were made. Regarding you, a great many errors were made, some very unjust ones. I just… I want you to know that I always stood behind you. I mean, as a fan, there was only so much I could do… But James Raven was always my guy.”
Betsy finally silences herself and settles for smiling at him shyly.
He wasn't the type of man to be lost for words often, but this is one of the rare occasions that he was. There was no way he was reading too much into this; there was something more than a friendship between them, and she knew it. She invited it.
"I'm glad to hear that. He'll be your guy as long as you'll have him."
He didn't look away this time. He powered through the shame and embarrassment of the lines he never normally used, and studied her reaction carefully. She smiled like she had before, and the hot blush rose in her neck and cheeks in a way that told him she was truly flattered. He sees what he's looking for, though... a brief flicker in her eyes that to anyone else would seem innocent and casual, but to anyone looking for red-flags reads as doubt.
He didn't have to be the smartest man in wrestling to know what she was thinking about; who she was thinking about. His smile faded slightly, but she didn't notice. He sipped his drink and set the glass down.
"Can I ask you something, Betsy?" he began tentatively, not knowing how to broach the subject, "How are things between you and Chuck? I've been preoccupied lately, and not keeping up with other promotions like I should, but I heard he was hurt? Is... is this... something we should be doing right now? Does he know I'm here? It's not a problem either way but I'll put all my cards on the table; I'm not sure of what I'm getting myself into here."
He closed his eyes and bit his lip, hoping for the best but bracing for an outburst. What if she told him he was an ass for assuming she wanted anything to do with him? What if she told him Chuck was going to be looking for him, or coming to the XWF for some petty feud? What if she broke down crying, guilty and admitting she had been using him in some elaborate and devious plot?
He was paranoid.
No outburst came.
Quite the opposite. Betsy sat her glass down and folded her hands in her lap, staring down at them. She thought over her answer carefully before speaking. She silently marveled at how well James could read her already, how he was able to look into her eyes and know exactly where her mind was. This was a new concept for her… typically, she was much better at hiding her thoughts.
“Things are… As well as can be expected. I care for him a lot and I love him, I know that much. And I think in his own way, he cares for me, too. Maybe he does love me… He’s never said it. He’s not really the type… Being the smartest man in wrestling leaves a lot to be desired in the passion and romance department. He tries… He has his gestures and ways of expressing affection without being pukey about it. Emotions, though? Not really his thing. I’d never push it on him, if it’s not something he’s comfortable with, I’d never force it from him.”
She nibbled on her lower lip as she pondered her next words. She could feel his eyes land on her again, but she couldn’t look up at him yet. She knew this would eventually come up and she felt a brief stab of guilt in her chest. Part of it was for the man she’d left behind in Chicago: alone, in the hospital with God only knew what wrong with him. The other piece of her guilt was for the man before her, looking at her with hope and desire; ready to open his heart to her it seemed.
“We don’t fight. When we argue, it’s very philosophical. We are very intellectually compatible, which… Given our IQ levels, can be very hard to find from others. But there are times when it seems like… Like we’re Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farah Fowler when they first met. We play games of intellect and challenge each other. We find stimulation, but we lack… Passion. Fire. We have fun, but it seems like we’re just going through the motions at times.”
She took a deep breath and licked her lips before continuing. She knew she should keep her next words to herself, but the whiskey had taken it’s hold. Not to mention Betsy Granger had never been known to keep her thoughts to herself. She let out her breath slowly and leveled with James at last. She looked up and gazed bravely into his eyes.
“Then I meet you… Just the one time before this and right away, I can feel something between us. It’s there… If I were to deny that, I’d be doing no one any favors. I seek you out when I shouldn’t. I feel myself get jealous when I see you speaking to other women when I have no right to. I look at you and I feel your energy… And I just feel like there would be passion and fire and all that nonsense they talk about it books, movies and songs. I feel I’d get from you exactly what I don’t get from Chuck and long for more often than I realized I did. I shouldn’t feel this way… I’m a taken woman and I’m not unhappy… But there it is. I should stay away and not lead you on… But I feel myself drawn to you and I don’t know how to stop it… Or if I even want to.”
Betsy let her voice trail off as a lump formed in her throat. She held her breath until she controlled herself once more and bit her lip nervously. All she could do was stare helplessly up at James, no idea where to go from there.
He stood up from his stool, and shifted his weight to be in front of her. He grabbed her steadily by the shoulders and pulled her into an even tighter embrace than the one they shared when he arrived. He wonders if he shouldn't have broached the subject, but shakes off the concern. Regardless of timing, it was better to know one way or the other.
"Sorry I brought it up, Bets," he whispered to her quietly, "I didn't mean to start anything, or make you feel guilty. I just needed to know. Don't worry about it, I'm not trying to make this difficult for you or ditch a guy that I'm sure needs you. That's just... it's... it's not me..."
His voice trailed off. He wished it was him, and under different circumstances, maybe it would be or at least could be. For now he just didn't want to see turmoil or guilt on such a beautiful face. He lifted a hand to the side of her face, gently brushing the blonde locks behind her ear and smiling as she looked back up to him.
"Forget I mentioned it. I don't need any more answers than that," he assured her, "I'm just happy I was able to see you."
He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time on the forehead, before backing away and finishing another glass of whiskey. He moved over to the kitchenette, setting the glass down and glancing out the window at the dark night sky. It was getting late. They still hadn't eaten, and he was exhausted from the traveling but something told him it was time to give her some space.
"I can leave if you like, I'm sure you want to get to bed soon," he said sincerely, "I'll be in town until a day or two after King of the Ring, so if you're still around we can get together again?"
Her eyes were still closed, her forehead had a pleasant burn where his lips had made contact. She was snapped out of her reverie by his words. Her eyes popped open and she looked up at him. Despite his offer to leave, she could see the fatigue setting in. For the first time all night, her invitation held no double meaning. She shook her head and pointed towards the bed.
“Yes, I’d like that… But right now, you’re exhausted. And you still haven’t eaten. I’m not letting you go riding in that condition. Even if you don’t eat…”
She didn’t finish when she saw the look on his face. She could see his longing, it mirrored her own. With ease, she slid around the kitchenette and stepped up to him. They were inches apart and she wasn’t sure if being that close was good or bad, right or wrong. But in that moment, it was actually what she wanted. She threw her arms over his shoulders and leaned in closer.
“Forgive me…”
She whispered before she touched her lips to his lightly. She didn’t hold the kiss for very long, but she allowed herself to give in to temptation for a few moments. His arms tightened around her and even when the kiss broke, they stayed embraced, foreheads touching. She sighed as she closed her eyes again.
“I know I probably shouldn’t have done that… But… I just… I…”
He stopped her with another feather light kiss. She nods and licks her lips, reluctantly pulling away from him. She takes his hand and leads him to the bed. He just stares at her as she lies across it and holds her hand out to him as an invitation.
He watched as she stretched out across the covers, staring up at him with a look that was both innocent but inviting. He swallows hard, mind racing a million miles a second as he considered his next move carefully. He knew this wasn't right in the strictest definition of the word, but he knew that he didn't particularly care either. He wanted this, and as long as he didn't cross any major boundaries he'd find a way to justify it to himself later.
He slowly made his way onto the mattress, never taking his eyes off of her. Without moving too quickly, he worked his way side by side with her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in to himself. He used his free hand to run his fingers through her hair, inhaling deeply and feeling his heart race faster and faster.
He swore he could feel her heart too.
He didn't say anything. He didn't feel he needed to. She didn't say anything either.
They lay together in each others arms, the room spinning wildly around them. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the jet lag. Maybe it was the crumbling of everything that they thought they knew before this moment.
He just knew it was enough.
His eyes were heavy, the gentle rhythm of her breathing lulling him into a deep trance. He didn't want to fall asleep this quickly. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want things to-
