Title: Blood or Pepperoni?

Rating: T

Main Characters: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins

Supporting Characters: Roman Reigns

Summary: This is the tale of a vampire in love with a pizza delivery guy. AU

Disclaimer: Story idea is mine. Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins belong to WWE and themselves.

Part 1:

"Thanks for calling JoJo's Pizza Place. Roman speaking. Will this be delivery or carryout?"

"Delivery, please."

Oh. It's that dude.

"Hey! Was expecting your call. Let me guess; large, thin crust, extra sauce, cheese, pepperoni. No garlic."

A chuckle is heard on the line. "You got it."

"That'll be $12.00. Dean'll be by with your pizza in 30 to 45 mins."

Every Tuesday and Thursday for three months, it's been like that. Mystery Guy calls in, orders same type of pizza, request that Dean is the one that brings it. Not the weirdest thing to happen though. As long as Dean's cool with it. Plus, according to him, Mystery Guy always leaves large tips. Also according to Dean, he's never seen the guy, hence why he's called "Mystery Guy". He always leave the pizza on the table in the hallway, picks up the cash and leaves. Weird, but harmless.

The bell jingles above the door causing Roman to look up. His best friend, business partner and pizza deliverer Dean has returned from a run.

"Mystery Guy placed an order. He's waitin' on you."

A red and white cap bearing the store's logo sits backwards over messy blonde curls. Some of those curls fall over steel blue eyes. A dark grey unzipped hoodie over a red t-shirt with the same logo blazed across the front. Roman will never understand how Dean can wear a hoodie all year round. He places his red pizza carrying bag on the counter before walking behind it.

"Awesome." Dean says in a gravelly, but upbeat reply. He frowns, however, when he sees Roman at the register. "Wasn't Eva Marie supposed to work tonight?"

"Called in sick."

"Again? That's the third time in two weeks. If she does it again, her and her Ronald McDonald hair can keep swishin' down the road."

Roman had to agree. The sexy red head with the killer body was nice to look at, but she didn't seem like she wanted to be there. He tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She and Dean just never seemed to click. So if Dean says she's got to go, well…Eva Marie's got to go.

Roman heads to the kitchen to make the order and Dean takes his spot behind the counter. While waiting for his delivery, he grabs a book that has job applications in it to look over. By the time Roman had brought out the pizza, his partner had a couple of applications set out.

"Alexa for the store. Finn for the deliveries." Dean says as he puts the pizza in the bag. "Think his sister Becky would want to work the kitchen?"

"I can work the kitchen." The Samoan-Italian's tone has finality to it. Roman's pretty particular about who he lets into the back with him.

"We need a second cook and you need time off." Dean says. A smile showing off his dimples accompanies the statement. He lifts up the bag then head out the door. "Catch you in a few!"

Once his precious cargo was securely attached to the back of his bike, Dean pedals off into the night. The best way to get around is definitely on a bike. Known that since he could ride one. Except for that one time, he's been able to get around with no problem. It doesn't take him long to reach his destination: a nice brownstone in Midtown Heights. Not to knock the apartment that he and Roman share, but this place is really classy.

Dean turns the cap forward before getting off the bike then removing the pizza. Just like before he climbs the stairs to the dark wooden door. The instructions were clear: Door is open. The money's on the marble top side table. Lay the pizza down. Take the money. Do not go to the end of the hall.

The end of the hall. Black like a void. The modern black and glass chandelier illuminates just enough light. Blue eyes peer into the unlit end of hallway. A part of Dean wants to say 'fuck it' and walk down the hall to see what's down there. But the other part is just scared enough not to do it. After a few seconds, the pizza man beats down his curiosity, puts down the pizza, takes the money and then walks out.

Faded golden eyes watches the video feed on the wall mounted flat screen. A button is pressed to rewind the footage then is paused at the desired moment. A walk over to the flat screen for better observation: cap, curly hair, hoodie, jeans, pizza. A slightly tanned hand reaches to ghost fingers over the figure on the screen. A sigh floats out as memories of a night months ago play over and over. The tip of a tongue plays with a pointed canine.

One day…some day…