A/N: This is my first wrestling fic! Requested by my sister, but I thought I'd share it on FF. I'm not really sure what category this story falls into. There's a little bit of angst, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some humor, some fluff, some drama, some everything! :) It's essentially following Dean as he tries to deal with his feelings for Roman and a rival for Roman's affection. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Dean Ambrose shook his head in disbelief.
He swigged down his beer and tried not to barf at the sight of the busty blonde bimbo grinding all up on his best friend.
Roman was uncomfortable, and rightfully so. The chick was all hands, mouth, and ass—one hundred and forty pounds of voluptuous curves just shoved into his face like a well-oiled slab of meat. The stripper was desperate to get the Samoan wrestler into a private room. Dean couldn't say he blamed her. His slightly blurry gaze scanned over the hard muscles packed tight beneath dark tan skin. Long, black hair was pulled back from a chiseled face, covered with a well-trimmed beard. And those tribal tattoos... They peeked from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt like the icing on top of a delicious fucking cake.
Roman's eyes met Dean's from across the darkened lounge. Dean sank into the leather settee. Roman gave him a wry smile as he warded another round of try-to-grab-the-crotch. Dean fought off the urge to grab the guy and get the hell out of dodge.
The titty bar hadn't even been their idea. Nah, Seth Rollins—the third wheel of their triumvirate had suggested hitting up a bar to unwind after a particularly grueling show. Now Dean was all for chilling at bars and having a couple beers with his brothers.
Just sans strippers.
Naked girls clinging and groping him while he was trying to relax wasn't his thing. Gave him performance anxiety, actually. It wasn't Roman's thing either, if the pained look on his mug was any indication.
Dean mock saluted his pal with a raised bottle. A chuckle escaped him as Roman threw a discreet middle finger his way.
He forced himself to turn away from them, instead dully glancing around the dark, but neon lit room. It probably looked like hell with the lights on, but during regular hours, the dancing colors, haze of smoke, and naked girls writhing on poles added a sexually-charged ambiance that made the club so popular.
It just wasn't the charge getting Dean off. Not tonight, nor any night, for that matter.
The only living soul who even stirred up some semblance of desire in him was currently being molested not ten feet away from him by a chick resembling a used-up Playboy model.
Dean smiled at that thought. In the light of day, Roman wouldn't even think twice about that girl.
"Why don't you go talk to her, man? I'm sure she'd take on the both of you at once."
Dean nearly jumped as Seth plunked down beside him. He ran a hand through his wonky blond and brown locks, a winsome smile on his face. Dean glanced back in Roman's direction. The guy had managed to ply the woman with tequila. Roman said something to her before they took a shot together. At least her hands weren't glued to him.
Dean tried to hide how relieved he was at that. "Nah, I'm not really feeling it tonight."
"You weren't feeling it the other night, either."
"Well, you know, hitting up strip clubs back to back is sorta redundant."
Seth stared a hole in him. "So that's how it is? You're pulling the big words on me now?"
"What? Who?" With a charming smirk, Dean capped off his bottle and stood. He was ready to ditch the place. "Let's get back to the hotel. We've got a long drive to Denver tomorrow."
Seth looked reluctant to leave, especially as his gaze caught the eye of a petite redhead waving him over. "Relax. We've got plenty of time, my friend. You don't wanna ruin the fun for me and Roman, do you?"
Dean glanced to Roman, who locked those steel gray eyes on him. He was practically pleading with Dean to do something to get him out of this impossible situation.
Dean almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "You're right, I don't." Patting his sex-obsessed friend's knee, Dean stood and stretched, moaning at the popping sounds his joints made.
At least the little aches and pains from tonight's match weren't noticeable.
Dean casually approached the duo, doing his best not to frown at the stank of flowery perfume, cigarettes, and sweat from patrons' grubby hands all over the stripper's body. The scent probably clung to Roman, too.
"It's pierced right through, baby," the blonde was saying. "Hurt like hell when I got it, though, but it feels good now. Especially during sex." She leaned in close and whispered with a smile, though Dean was sure any dick within a ten foot radius could hear her.
Dean placed a hand on the chick's shoulder to get her attention. She didn't seem to want to look away from Roman. "'Scuse me, doll. Sorry, but I'm gonna have to steal my partner from you now. We got a long drive tomorrow morning." He was so not sorry.
The blonde pouted as she looked him up and down with intrigue. "That's too bad. Well, where are you boys headed? I have the next two days off. I could bring some girl friends of mine. We could have fun."
Roman abruptly stood, his leg bumping the small table and making it rattle. "Canton," he answered before Dean could.
Dean arched a brow at his friend's blatant lie.
The stripper stared at Roman as if he'd sprouted two heads. "Canton?" She reiterated, though much more slowly. "Is that like in Mexico?"
Dean shook his head with amusement. Dumb broad.
"Ohio," Roman replied.
The smile returned to her heavily made up face. "Ohio! Oh my god, I feel so stupid now. Of course you're not driving all the way to Mexico. It'd take like days or something."
Dean couldn't help the sarcastic smile on his face. He folded his arms across his leather-clad chest. "Wow, how'd you figure that? You must be a walking geographer, girl."
Roman's warning look stopped him from busting into laughter. Barely.
She shook her head at Dean, but her smile remained glued in place. "Hey, don't make fun of me. High school was forever ago."
"But you did graduate right?"
"Dean." Roman appeared at his side, a scowl on his face. "We really need to get going now. For real."
"Why? We're just having a little fun, brother."
"Yeah, too much fun." Roman nudged Dean in the side, directing him to the nearest exit. "And too much fun turns you into an ass, in case you forgot."
"Oh yeah, that's right! Nice meeting you, ma'am." Not really.
She blew them a kiss. "Come see me when you're back in town."
Roman mumbled something Dean didn't catch over the smooth R&B song blasting out the speakers. He fished around his leather jacket pocket for the keys before he found Seth.
Still sitting in the settee, Seth was currently making out with the redhead chick, all hands on her ass and tongue down her throat. Dean rolled his eyes. His friend was a fucking playboy. "Yo, Seth, we're leaving."
Seth pulled away from the girl's lips. "What, now?" His voice was clearly annoyed.
"I'm tired, man. You can stay if you want, but, just so you know... I got the keys." Dean burst into laughter at his friend's dark curse. He headed for the exit, with Roman pulling up beside him.
They stepped outside into crisp, cool autumn weather. Dean inhaled a deep breath, clogging his sinuses with nature and leaving behind the musk of cheap perfume, cologne, tobacco, and sex. He turned to face Roman as he shrugged into his own leather jacket. "Damn, you smell like her."
Roman frowned. "Like who?"
"C'mon, you know who. Little Miss Ass-and-Tits from the bar, bumping and grinding all over you."
"Lianna?"
Dean's body stiffened as the name left Roman's lips. A sudden tremor shook him. "When did you get her name?" He hadn't meant to sound jealous, but alcohol only ever amplified his emotions, never tempered it.
"You mean, when didn't I get it? Besides the ten second intervals where we'd actually talk, the chick kept saying it to me. Said she wanted me to call her "Li-Li" while we fucked."
Dean didn't know what to make of that. He didn't say anything as he walked over to their Chevy rental. The thought of Roman having sex with that girl did things to him. Things that when acted upon, would leave no doubt about why he was called the Lunatic Fringe.
Dean popped open the passenger side door and climbed inside, burrowing into his jacket as he stared at nothing in particular. Not that he could see anything really with his muddled thoughts. Roman hopped into the driver's side. The least drunk of all of them. The scent clinging to Roman was enough to suffocate Dean. He'd climb into the back to put some distance between them, but he didn't want to offend his best friend. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried real hard to think about what Roman usually smelled like: clean sweat and spicy musk when they were at the gym; fresh soap and Old Spice after showering.
The scents were so strong, Dean could almost bury his nose into it. The guy smelled fucking amazing, usually. He imagined what it would feel like to be surrounded by that scent, mixed with the heat of Roman's big body on top of him. Or under him. Dean wasn't picky. He'd take Roman anyway he could get him.
His cock hardened at that.
"Should we wait for Seth? He seemed to be into it with that chick." Roman's deep voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Wait for him. He'll be out in a sec." Where was I?
Roman started the engine, and a moment later, heat blasted from the vents.
Dean arched a brow at him.
Roman met his gaze and shrugged. "You were shivering. Figured you were cold."
"I was shuddering, not shivering."
"What's the difference, wiseass?"
Dean was so not going there. Luckily for him, he didn't have to. A downtrodden Seth had left the club and approached the car. He got in with a dramatic sigh. Dean sniggered. "Wow, Seth, that was fast. Even for a quickie. And here I was all prepared to take a nap."
"Oh, go fuck yourself," Seth growled.
Dean burst into laughter. "You make it too damn easy, Rollins."
"Children, behave." Roman put the car in gear and sped out of the bar's parking lot. Ten minutes later and they were meeting valet in front of their hotel. After Roman tipped the guy, they headed inside the hotel's lobby.
"I'm barricading myself in my room with lots of booze," Seth said. "None of you bastards had better not think of bothering me until morning."
Dean wanted to roll his eyes at that. "Just don't be choking the chicken too hard, okay? She ain't worth it, man."
Seth looked flustered as he glared at him. "I am not doing that."
"Just looking out for you. That's what friends are for, right?" Dean flashed him a brilliant smile guaranteed to annoy the crap out of him.
Like he suspected, Seth huffed off without even so much as a "goodnight." Honestly, the guy could be such a drama queen.
Roman shook his head as he boarded the elevator. "You really gotta stop getting under his skin so much."
Dean grinned at the taller male as he stood beside him in the claustrophobic-inducing steel box. "But it feels so good under there."
Roman chuckled, the sound sending shivers up Dean's spine. "Yeah, well I hate playing mediator. Seth's starting to think you hate him or something."
"Seth knows I love him. In fact, I'll even go to his room tonight and prove it myself. I'll fucking bring my guitar and serenade his ass wearing my favorite suit, even."
"Which suit is that?" Roman grinned.
"The only suit I own. Birthday, of course."
"Yo, you're crazy. Did your mom drop you by accident when you were a baby?"
The elevator finally dinged open and Dean followed his partner to their shared hotel room. Unlike Seth, who felt that being the World Heavyweight champion meant having his own room, Dean had asked Roman to room up with him as usual. He was not gonna pay full price for a room he barely stayed in.
"C'mon, Reigns. You know my mom gets sensitive if you remind her of that."
Roman laughed again, and Dean couldn't help a smile at the sound. He loved making the guy crack up. It took a certain talent that had required lots of patience. And Roman had a nice laugh. Hell, he had a nice everything... nice smile, nice personality, hella nice body...
Dean stopped that train of thought as they entered the shared space.
Their room was a mess of open suitcases, strewn clothes and shoes, beer bottles, and empty pizza boxes. They were practically living out of their bags. Dean had learned a long time ago that it was just more of a hassle when you hung your stuff up all neat and fancy. It was easier this way.
Roman threw off his jacket. "I'm hitting the shower first."
Dean bit his tongue at the image that sent him. He grunted in acknowledgement as he searched the bottles, hoping to find one with some of the good stuff left in it. Bingo! One dark bottle almost half-filled. He didn't care if it was his or Roman's. Dean put the thing to his lips and swallowed. The liquid was warm and a little flat, but he drank it anyway. Kept his mouth busy so he wouldn't make a stupid remark like he was prone to do.
The bathroom door shut behind Roman. A minute later, the shower came on. Dean kicked off his steel-toed boots and climbed into his bed, trying not to imagine what Roman looked like in there, naked and dripping wet.
"Get your shit together, Ambrose." He turned on the TV to drown out the sounds of water beating down on bare flesh. The loud, pleasured moaning snapped him out of his daze. It would land on a porn channel. "Fucking really?" More stroke material was not what he needed right now. Besides, the busty brunette in the torn schoolgirl outfit wasn't doing it for him.
Not like Roman could.
Dean changed the channel. Old school horror movie. Nice. Guaranteed to kill whatever buzz his libido had started.
Dean stared at the plasma, the images barely registering past his muddled up mind. Roman didn't know. How could he? Dean never gave a clue. He was always so careful, making sure his best friend of the last two decades didn't find out he'd wanted to fuck him for years.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?" Dean glanced up at the familiar voice. Big. Fucking. Mistake.
Roman was standing there in just a towel, water dripping from his black waves and hard body. His eyes were glued to the screen, his handsome face contorted in disgust. The scent of soap and Old Spice was back.
Holy shit.
"What are you watching?"
Dean glanced away from Roman and at the TV. The film was black-and-white, and there was a deformed looking monster eating a shrieking woman alive. Blood gushed from her missing body parts. The special effects were so horrible, it was almost comical. "Um, no idea, actually."
"Fucking gross, man."
"Changing channel now." He picked up the remote and changed the channel.
Porn again. The same brunette was being done doggy style by some older guy who kept calling her a "naughty girl." Dean met his friend's questioning gaze across the room. With a bemused smile, Dean shut off the TV. "Think I'm gonna go take that shower now."
"Yeah, man, you do that."
A/N: What did you think? Please review! I like constructive and positive criticism~
