a/n: sooooooo i was inspired by the preview of the wwe comic #6 where they have dean ambrose and sasha banks team up. i never thought they could work but the writers of the comics proved me wrong. also, they looked super cute. this doesn't follow any of raw's current storylines; meaning dean did not lose his intercontential championship to the miz at extreme rules.

~*~ignite these sparks~*~

pairing: dean ambrose/sasha banks

summary: dean's future – post retaining his ic championship – is so bright, he's gotta wear shades because sasha's sudden presence in his world is electric

rating: t

Now, that Miz was firmly in his rearview mirror he could (finally) move onto bigger and better things. That block head Lesnar wasn't going to be showing his face (surprise, surprise) at RAW any time soon, despite Samoa Joe winning the Fatal Five Way at Extreme Rules last night. He had seen Heyman in the halls of the arena, but that didn't mean shit. There was no way he'd brought the fabled Beast with him. Lesnar wouldn't dare darken an arena with his presence this far out from the next scheduled Pay-Per-View.

Rubbing his beard, Dean leaned against one of the many production crates that littered the backstage area, wondering what those 'bigger and better' things would be, exactly.

It had been a month since the triple threat between Miz, Rollins and Balor` to become the number one contender to his title. He shook his head; Miz had his chance and despite pulling out every dirty trick in the book, hadn't gotten him disqualified, but – a smirk crossed his lips – Rollins and Balor` were fair game.

He cracked his knuckles before pounding his right fist into his open left palm. He had a General Manager to go see.

Swaggering into Angle's office, he paused at the sight of a striking violet head sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the GM's desk. Her gold shades, that sat atop her head, glittered in the fluorescent lighting of the office. Even before the brand split, he'd never said more than a word to her, so he was unsure of how to approach her. He pushed a hand through his hair and when he stepped in front of the chair she was sitting in, because tact wasn't his strong suit, he jerked a thumb in the direction of the door and said, "Scram, Banks, I got business with Angle."

Chestnut colored eyes went wide and her glossy pout dropped open in full offense. Scoffing, she pushed herself out of the chair and got right in his face, almost to the point that their noses were touching.

"Take a number, Ambrose," Her pout turning sour as her eyes narrowed. "I was here first. I'm getting what's owed to me; a Championship match against that little Wicked Witch."

"What's owed to ya, huh?" A low chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Last I heard, Harley Quinn all but gift wrapped Nia Jax a title shot. Then again, my head's been knocked around more than few times, which means my hearing's probably shot to hell, so I could be wrong. I mean it wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm not interested in your games. Like I said, I was here first."

"Now, now, let's put the claws away." Chastising as he clicked his tongue before he moved behind the desk and sat in the lush high-backed chair. He propped his arms behind his head and stretched his legs onto the desk, folding one foot over the other. "You're guaranteed to get a title shot, so why don't you go on your bossy," He chuckled at his own joke. "Way and let the boys talk business."

"The boys talk business?" Dean couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips. He could hear how her teeth were grit as she spat his words back at him. He could see her jaw ticking and her eyes flare with heat. He had gotten under her skin in a matter of minutes. Well, until Angle showed up, he could at least have some fun.

"Yeah, you know; chew the fat, get down to brass tacks, shoot the shit, all that good stuff. Here I am, day in and day out, working every house show, every RAW and every Pay-Per-View and with The Miz finally out of my way, I'm fresh out of challengers. This," He grabbed the prestigious white belt and slung it over his shoulder. "Is the only Title on this show that matters. That Tomato Can, Lesnar ain't showin' up any time soon, so what I am I supposed to do? Sit back and lay low? That ain't my style, Toots, so I'm letting Angle know what's goin' down; Balor` and Rollins want somethin' to fight for, they can fight for this right here." He patted the strap for good measure, flashing her a cunning grin.

"Toots?" Unimpressed as she shook her head, arms folding across her chest. "I don't know who you think you're talkin' to..."

"Whoa, Banks, don't get your panties in a knot..." Before he could finish his taunt, a familiar mid-west drawl could be heard from the doorway, "Ambrose."

"Rollins," His tone was flat, the teasing edge falling away instantly. "If you're in here cause you got somethin' to discuss with Angle, take a number. Banks and I were here first."

"Actually, I was here first..." Sasha's insistence was drowned out by the frazzled tone of Alexa as she barrelled into the office, "This is unacceptable! I put everything into that kendo stick on a pole match with Bayley, and now you're going to make me defend my Championship?! And against Nia?! How can you do this to me?!"

"I don't make the rules, darlin'," Dean drawled lazily, dimple peeking at Alexa as a shit-eating grin crossed his pink lips. "Don't tell me Nia's got ya shakin' in your boots? Didn't think Goddesses got all shook up." He taunted, laughing as her crystal eyes narrowed and her frosted lips twisted into a frown.

"Awww, don't tell me the," Sasha mocked, turning her attention from Ambrose to the platinum pixie who'd been nothing but a thorn in her side since she showed up from Smackdown. "Wittle Wicked Witch is scared of big, bad Nia Jax? Some," She closed the space between herself and the blonde and poked her in the chest for good measure. "Champion you are. You wanna be where the big girls are, Tinkerbelle, you better step up to the plate. If not, step aside and I'll be happy," She ran a bright blue nail down the smooth white strap of the Women's Championship belt. "To take this beauty off your hands and defend it, like a real Champion instead of some pixie playing pretend."

"Excuse you?!" Alexa shrieked, backing away from Sasha. "Back up and keep your ratchet hands off my Women's Championship."

"What did you say?!" Sasha lunged for Alexa who yelped before scurrying behind Seth's taller frame. "Get out of my way, Rollins." The Boston native all but growled. "She wants to go around callin' me ratchet, she's gonna get what she deserves; the taste slapped out of her mouth."

"Let's not get hasty, Sasha," Seth held his hands up as a gesture of peace. "If you want to get a title shot after Nia, there are proper channels to go through. Putting your hands on the defensless Women's Champion, won't further your cause."

"Defensless?! Do you hear yourself right now?!"

"I can hear myself just fine, thank you."

"Now, this doesn't seem fair," Dean rose from Kurt's lush high-backed chair and walked around the desk, standing shoulder to shoulder with Sasha. He could see the wheels turning in Rollins's head. He knew the slimy weasel was up to something. "Let Banks get her licks in, Rollins. What's it to you if she snatches the little pixie's hair, anyway?"

"Sasha isn't going to get what she wants by going after Alexa..."

"Cut the crap. Don't act like you're doin' Banks any favors. I can see the wheels turnin' in your head."

"Looks like you're still as paranoid as you ever were, Ambrose."

Dean took a step toward Seth just as Kurt's voice broke through the thickening tension in the room, "What the hell is going on in here? Why are all of you in my office?"

Dean backed away from Seth, throwing the IC title over his shoulder and told the GM, "When Reigns and Wyatt are done, I got somethin' to say about retaining my Championship. Tell Sampson to go find a dive bar or a street corner. If he's out there when my music hits, I ain't responsible for what happens to his face or that guitar of his."

Just as he was halfway through the doorway, he turned back around and looked Seth dead in his eyes. "You'll wanna listen closely to what I have to say, Rollins."

Sasha lips twisted into a confused frown as she watched Dean disappear down the hallway. After he issued his warning to Seth and stared him down, she felt a shiver roll down her spine. It was clear Ambrose was intent on delivering his former brother in arms a message. Shaking it off, she turned to the task at hand. She was here in Kurt's office for a purpose. That purpose being her spot in the division. Alicia Fox had been disposed of in the mixed tag match the night before. Bayley was home taking care of herself after the devastating kendo shots had her injured.

And as far as Alexa promising Nia a match, that was all just a big joke to Sasha.

Nia wasn't close to being Championship material.

If anyone should be challenging Alexa, it should be her.

"Kurt..." Sasha started to say but was quickly interrupted by Alexa. "Sasha thinks she can just waltz in here and be handed a Championship match. She hasn't earned a shot at my title. That isn't fair to Mickie and Dana and Alicia. Just like you know what else isn't fair? Me having to defend my title against Nia a day after I retained my Championship in a grueling kendo stick on a pole match."

"Oh, please," Sasha remarked, rolling her eyes. "Don't even with those crocidle tears. How can you take her seriously as a Champion, Kurt? She's trying to back out of a deal she made with Nia because she knows she can't hang. This ain't," Turning to Alexa as she shoved her in the shoulder, making her stumble back. "Smackdown Live, honey. This is Monday Night Raw. So you betta step yo game up and do what you promised. If you won't, you should have the title taken away from you cause clearly you ain't Championship material."

"I'm not Championship material?" Alexa scoffed, going nose to nose with Sasha. "In case you've forgotten, I beat you to become the Number One Contender for the RAW Women's Championship my second week on the show. Or do you not remember? Because I would be happy to," A smirk crossing her frosted lips. "Refresh your memory, Sasha. I hit Twisted Bliss and pinned you; one, two, three dead in the middle of the ring."

"You got lucky, that's what you got. Cause I say we go right here," Sasha slipped her rings off her fingers and threw her shades to the ground. "Right now. Put your money where your mouth is. I got no problems, throwin' down anytime, any place. Cause that's what a Boss does. She takes care of her business."

"Ladies..." Seth was suddenly between Sasha and Alexa. "This can all be sorted out very easily. There's no need for things to get physical."

"I want a shot at her Championship, Kurt," Sasha turned, flipping her violet locks in Rollins's face, effectively dismissing him. "She wants to act all big and bad, well let's see how big and bad she really is. If she retains against, Nia tonight, I should be the one who steps up. I beat Alicia Fox again and Dana isn't ready for the Championship spotlight. I love Mickie as much as the next person, I respect that she is a seven time Women's Champion, but her time has come and gone. You know I'm right. Now, me I'm The Boss and The Boss is always ready. All do whatever I have to seal the deal. You just tell me when to show up and," She bent picking up her shades. Shining them on the hem of her skirt, she pushed them onto her eyes and with a dip and another flip of her hair, she said, "It's Boss Time."

After leaving Kurt's office, Sasha could only hope that he could see through the pathetic act Alexa was putting on, that he would instinctively know he could trust her as far as he could throw her. She wasn't the goody-goody in the tutu that had shown up at NXT. She was a sneaky little witch who was determined to keep her Championship by any means necessary. Something Sasha would have admired if she wasn't walking around the locker room like she owned the place after being added to the roster a month before with the Superstar Shakeup.

She needed to be knocked down a few pegs... Or ten and no one else but her on the roster was capable of doing that, and she was going to do whatever it took for Angle to realize that.

Sliding into a chair in the backstage area, she heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine revving and there was Ambrose swaggering toward the curtain. Before he pushed his way through, he turned his head and winked at her. A rush of heat swept up her spine, but she quickly brushed it away. She wasn't going there, not with Ambrose. His repuation far preceeded him backstage. He wasn't one for relationships, he was one for having a new girl leave his hotel room in every city they were in.

"The Miz did everything he could to get me DQ'd last night," His gritty tone, coming through the monitor backstage, brought her out of her thoughts. "But whether it was getting his wife to slap him or thinking he could trick the ref by pushing me into him, it didn't work. He figured I'd lose my cool cause I'm crazy," A bark of harsh laughter. "Well, he found out the cold, hard truth; I am crazy, crazy like a fox. Sooooooooo... what's next for ol' Uncle Deano; that's a great question. I'm ready to defend my title, any time, any place, anywhere. If..." He didn't get a chance to continue as suddenly the meldoic strumming of a guitar filled the arena.

"Elias Sampson, The Drifter, is here!" Michael Cole announced from ringside.

"If I were Sampson," Booker T spoke up, a chuckle in his tone. "I'd take my guitar and run in the other direction. Ambrose doesn't look like he'll be givin' him a standing ovation."

"If Ambrose does anything to Sampson, he'll just be proving Miz right," Corey Graves chimed in. "That he isn't fit to be Intercontential Champion. He'll be giving into his baser instincts, if he lays a hand on Sampson – who probably, for reasons I don't understand just wants to congratulate him for retaining his championship in song – and that's not anyone I would want to hold such a prestigeous title like the Intercontential Championship."

"Sampson came out here and interrupted Ambrose. Whatever happens to him, if anything does, he deserves." Booker countered, shaking his head at the younger man.

"Oh, here we go, boys! Ambrose dropped the mic and went right after Sampson, tearing that guitar strap from his body and throwing the guitar down on the mat! And punches are being thrown left and right! There's a nasty clothesline from Ambrose sending Sampson flying right out of the ring! And oh, oh, what's Ambrose thinking here Book?"

"We're goin' flyin', Cole! Air Ambrose is about to take off!"

A perfect suicide dive had Sampson launched into the barricade outside the ring. While he got in several good punches, the brawl ended with a Dirty Deeds in the middle of the ring. The crowd was on their feet, roaring at full throat as a chant of "Ambrose! Ambrose! Ambrose!" broke out.

Picking up the mic, he growled, "Like I said, I'm ready to defend my title any time, any place, anywhere. If anybody back there wants to step up to the plate, bring it on. Cause you'll have to pry this belt from my cold, dead hands if you want it even half as much as I want to keep it."

He pushed his way through the curtain and Sasha arched a brow in surprise as Angle was right there to greet him. "I heard everything you said out there tonight, Dean and as General Manager I need to be sure you meant every word about you being ready to defend your title any place, any time, anywhere..."

"You ain't gotta worry about that," Ambrose cut Angle off, his tone firm. "I don't waste time sayin' things I don't mean. Lesnar may be hiding in his cave somewhere in North Dakota or wherever the fuck he is, but I don't hide. If somebody in that locker room wants a title shot, they know where to find me; in that ring doin' what I do, breakin' bones, knockin' skulls and puttin' my body on the line for this," He held the title right in Angle's face. "Set up the whole locker room to fight me, I don't give a damn. I live for that shit. Next week, there better be somebody who's gunnin' for me and my title. If not, I'll tear your nice little show that you've got planned to shreds. If you don't believe me, ask Steffy. She'll be happy to tell you how not even having my head driven through cinder blocks could keep me away forever like they all thought it would."

"That's what I like to hear!" The General Manager gave Ambrose a hearty slap to his back. "That's what I want on Monday Night RAW, fighting Champions. You don't have to stick around, but next week's Main Event is going to be a match between Seth Rollins and Finn Balor` to determine the Number One Contender for your title. Whoever wins will face you at Great Balls of Fire."

"Sounds fine to me."

Angle and Ambrose didn't seem to notice that she had been sitting there the entire time. She filed this information – that Angle appeared to like Ambrose or at the very least appreciate his grit and determination – away. Maybe there was a way she'd be able to use this to her advantage.

Just as she was about to walk back to the women's locker room so she could change into her gear, suddenly there was a gravel tone in her ear, "Didn't Mommy and Daddy teach you it's impolite to stare?"

His breath was hot and heavy against her skin. She was ready to shoot off a nasty remark when she turned and she realized how close to her he actually was. She was pressed right up against him and it was like walking into a wall. His every inch was solid muscle. His steel blue eyes twinkled dangerously and her world was suddenly off-kilter. She never noticed just how blue his eyes were; this unique mixture of baby soft blue, stormy grey while beings as bright as diamonds.

Her own breath was caught in her throat until he spoke again, "I don't know what your plans are after the show, but mine involve strippin' down to my skivvies and poppin' open a few beers. But for a pretty girl, those plans can change."

It was like the fog that had settled over her brain suddenly disappeared. With a harsh shove to his chest, she created space between them. "I don't know who you think I am, Ambrose, but I'm not some desperate little girl who wants one night with the great," There were air quotes around the word, making him chuckle low in his throat. "Dean Ambrose so I can squeal and giggle to all my little friends or write about it in my diary. I know exactly who you are, though, and I refuse to be just another knotch in your bedpost."

"Who said anything about you bein' another knotch in my bedpost?' He had the nerve to look aghast, like she had offended him and she could feel her temper starting to rise, because seriously?! It's not like he didn't know about his man-whore reputation backstage. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, darlin'," A low drawl in her hear as he bends his head while walking past her. "But if that's what you're lookin' for, I'm all to happy to oblige. Just for the record, I was suggesting we hit up the hotel bar. Maybe next time, huh?"

He doesn't give her a chance to answer (and in a moment of honesty, that comes after they've both left the arena, she isn't sure she could) before he's gone, leaving just his scent of heavy leather, crisp Irish Spring and heady sandalwood in his wake. She blinks repeatedly, unsure of what the hell just happened as she watches him until his broad shouldered and narrow waisted silhouette disappears from her view.

Not having Bayley around sucks.

It's not like Sasha doesn't understand her standing within the women's locker room. No one else but Bayley likes her. And nothing sucks more than your best friend also being your only friend. Well, she was friends with some of the guys, but that wasn't the same.

If she's being honest, making friends – since she set foot in Orlando back in NXT – was the furthest thing on her mind. She and Bayley just kind of happened. Like they were always looking for each other and finally – with their pin straight hair (hers a light shade of auburn at the time) and dopey grins and 'i'm just happy to be here' attitudes – at the Performance Center, they had.

They had their ups and downs. Despite what everyone thought, their friendship was far from perfect, but it was times like this – when she was sitting at catering by herself – that she really missed her. It didn't help that she knew the brunette was struggling. Her main roster run so far – even though she had been Women's Champion – wasn't going the way she hoped. Her momentum that was there on her debut – the night after Summerslam last year – was all but gone.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, as she scrolled through twitter on her phone, internally debating on whether or not she should text Bayley to see how she was doing.

"Bet I could turn that frown upside down," Cocksure draped in gravel and Sasha could feel her eyes starting to roll on instinct. "I bet you can't," She countered, her voice dripping sacchrine sweetness.

"I get it; Martinez not bein' around sucks. No need to walk around with a puss on your face, Banks. But if you don't want the last blueberry muffin, it's cool. I mean blueberry ain't my favorite, but it'll do, I guess."

Sasha slowly looked up from her phone to see Dean peeling the paper away from the muffin. She figured he was bluffing, but it was clear he wasn't. Her stomach rumbled. Blueberry was her favorite, but how did he know? Pushing that thought out of her mind, she reached for the muffin only for him to pull it back, shit-eating grin crossing his pink lips.

"What, were you raised in a barn?" His tone was teasing, only serving to make her more annoyed. "What's the magic word?"

"Ugh, how does Reigns put up with you?" She grumbled, reaching for the muffin again.

"I think you mean how do I put up with him," He smirked, keeping the muffin out of her reach. "He's the one taking forty-five minute showers and using up all the hot water and a whole lot of other annoying shit, like finishing the last of the beer, making me work out in an actual gym cause he's a whiny bitch about his hair in humidity and heat and waking up at the ass crack of dawn and expecting me to get up with him. But enough about him; you want this muffin or not, darlin'?"

"Please," Exasperated as she rolled her eyes. "Can I have the muffin, Ambrose?"

"See," His dimple peeking through as he handed her the muffin. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Are you always this much of an ass?"

"It's part of my charm."

"Need a lift?" A gravel tone suddenly appearing in her ear with a raspy chuckle underneath. "The hell, Ambrose?!" She whirled around, slapping him across the chest. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"Darlin'," Low and heady, his eyes drifting to her lips for a fraction of a moment and heat rushes through her. "Why would I go and try to kill you? I gotta have somethin' nice to look at 'round here."

"I'll be fine waiting for Bayley. She's back traveling with the roster again."

"You'll be waitin' a long time, then. You're supposed to be her best friend, right? Shouldn't you know how head over feet or whatever Ro is for her? Didn't you see the way he booked it out of here after his match? He's picking her up from the airport."

Sasha eyed him suspciously as she rummaged through her purse for her phone. Unlocking the screen she saw several texts from Bayley. She couldn't help the soft smile that appeared. At least – in black and white – her familiar sunny disposition seemed to be back, thanks to Roman who like Dean said was head over heels for her. She sighed, knowing she didn't have a choice but to hitch a ride with him because even though she rode in with Enzo and Cass, with Amore's lead foot they were probably half way to the next town.

Putting her phone back in her purse, she told him, her teeth grit, "You better not try anything."

Dean laughed and held up his hand in the Boy Scout's symbol, "Scout's honor."

"You a Boy Scout? Don't make me laugh."

"How do you know I wasn't a Boy Scout, huh?" He questioned, hauling her bags into the trunk of his rental. "Does this face," He puckered his lips and batted his lashes furtively. He looked ridiculous and if he were anyone else, she would have laughed but she didn't want to go stroking his ego. "Not look like the face of an ex-Boy Scout to you?"

"You were never a Boy Scout, Ambrose. You're more like," A soft bout of laughter as she slides into the passenger seat of the car. "Peter Quill. Not entirely bad, I guess, but not completely good either. You're you know an asshole but not a 100% dick."

"Now, there's a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one. I ain't so bad," He leans in close, pushing his luck, but with those blue eyes staring straight at her, she's practically paralyzed. Being able to smell the mix of heavy leather, heady Old Spice and fresh Irish Spring isn't helping all that much either. "Once you get to know me."

"Just shut up and drive." Not nearly as annoyed as she wants to sound.

"Yes, ma'am." A mock salute and a peek at his all-too attractive dimple. Her stomach – of its own volition – tumbles and she groans inwardly. He shouldn't be affecting her at all.

Sasha felt like punching everything. She couldn't believe Kurt was actually letting Nia have a title shot, all because Alexa promised her one so she wouldn't get her ass beat. Couldn't he see through her act? That fake smile, the batting of her eyelashes? An annoyed growl left her throat as she watched Alexa sprint away from the much bigger woman. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, her first instinct was to whirl around, her fist in the air, poised to punch.

Her punch was blocked quickly and she found herself looking up into the soft dark chocolate eyes of Seth Rollins. Her arms folded across her chest while she cocked one eyebrow upwards in silent question.

"Most women," A self-assured chuckle as he pushes his fingers through his hair while flexing, which makes her roll her eyes. "Don't come out swinging around me, that's something that usually happens to Ambrose. Speaking of, Sasha," His tone placating. "You don't really want to go down that road do you? You've heard all the rumors about him, I know you have. You have so much potential. Why would you want to throw it all away? For what? A fifteen minute romp in a hotel room? A few stolen kisses in supply closets in arenas?"

"What I do isn't any of your business, Rollins." She snaps. "I don't know what your game is, but go find someone else to put in your little sandbox. I got bigger things on my mind, like taking back what belongs to me, the RAW Women's Championship. Now, get out of my face. I have a match to watch."

"I'm just giving you some friendly advice, that's all. Alexa isn't wearing tutus and throwing glitter at the crowd any more. You'd be wise to take her seriously."

"Oh, please, that lil pixie ain't got nothin' on me. Go dispense your advice to someone who needs it like Dana or Emma. To quote the great Ron Swanson, I know what I'm about, son."

Sasha turned back toward the monitor, effectively ending their conversation. It didn't matter if Alexa still retained or if Nia won her first Championship, she could beat either one of them. She spent long enough out of the title picture, post Wrestlemania. Now after that brief interlude with Alicia she was ready to take her place at the head of the table in the Women's Division. It's where she belonged.

Heavy footfalls approached from her right, but she didn't look away from the monitor until she heard the familiar rumbling bass of Roman's deep voice, "Since when does Rollins come sniffin' around you?"

"You'll have to ask him. He was all up in my business, acting like Ambrose and I are some kind of thing. Like I would ever go there. I mean," A heavy sigh as she shakes her head. "I know Bayley told you about everything with Mikaze and then Finn before that because she couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it, but I'm not doing that again. I have a Championship to win and that's where my head is."

"Watch yourself," Roman warned. "Rollins doesn't do anything without a motive behind it. If he thinks he can use you, he won't let up."

"I'm not worried about that snake. There's nothing he can do to distract me. You shouldn't worry about me, either. I can handle mine, remember?"

"I know you can. He just..." A growl echoing from the deepest part of his chest. "He's always workin' some kind of angle. I just don't want to see you used as a pawn in whatever game he's playin'. You're better than that. I know you're focused on Alexa right now, but now that he's sniffin' around, you have to keep eyes in the back of your head. I made the mistake of trusting him and I paid the price. I don't want to see that happen to you."

"Awwww," Sasha squealed, standing on her tip toes so she could reach his cheek and pinch it. "You're just a big teddy. At least," She brought her voice back to its normal tone. "I know you're not worried about me cause you think you'll earn points with Bayley. Not that you have to. You two are so adorable I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"Is that supposed to be compliment?"

"How can it not be? BayReigns is my..." Before Sasha could finish, Michael Cole's reedy tone rang out from the monitor, "Nia's getting ready to put Alexa away after that vicious back body drop! We're gonna have a new Women's Champion! She's lying in wait, getting ready to hit that leg drop, but wait... Seth Rollins?! What's he doing out here?! And oh, Rollins grabs Bliss and pulls her out of the ring!"

"What..." Sasha gasps, her eyes growing wide as Nia gives chase, Seth helps Alexa over the barricade, sending her running through the crowd. She's noting but a flash of magenta tipped hair by the time the referree counts to ten. JoJo makes the announcement, "By count out, the winner of the match is Nia Jax, but still RAW Women's Champion, Alexa Bliss!"

"Oh, hell no," She growls, fists clenched at her sides.

"Hey," Roman grabs her wrist, stopping her from taking off. "Don't do anything crazy. That's what he wants. He thinks teaming up with Alexa is going to get him somewhere. If you go after her and beat her down, do you really think Angle's going to give you a Championship match?"

Sasha hated that Roman was right. She couldn't put her hands on that little pixie bitch. At least not backstage, she couldn't. Slipping her shades from their place in her hair, she put them on and turned to the Samoan and said, "It's time to make a statement about what just went down. A bank statement. She's not getting away with that poor excuse for a title defense."

Roman couldn't stop the smile from curling at his lips. This was the Sasha he had been in the mix tag match with against Rusev and Charlotte.

His eyes were trained on the monitor, watching as Cole intoned while her theme played in the background, "It's Boss Time, ladies and gentleman! The Boss, Sasha Banks, is making her way to the ring right now. No doubt she has something to say about what we just witnessed in that Championship match between Nia Jax and the RAW Women's Champion, Alexa Bliss."

"That was somethin'," There was Dean's gravel tone in his ear. "You think Rollins believes Bliss can get him a title match?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"That was pathetic!" Sasha told the crowd as their cheers for her had died down. "I don't like calling out legends like our General Manager, Kurt Angle, but The Boss calls it like she sees it, and that was pathetic, Kurt! You're just gonna sit back in your office, in that plush chair and let that little pixie make a mockery of the RAW Women's Championship like that? Well, maybe you are, but I'm not! It's time someone in the locker room stepped up and showed her how things are done around here! Champions don't run with their tails tucked between their legs, they fight! And I'm ready for a fight, so c'mon out here, Alexa! Let's do this!"

"That's not gonna happen, Sasha." Instead of Alexa, it's Seth who comes out to the ring, microphone in hand. "Alexa," He says, stepping through the ropes. "Doesn't owe you anything. She gave Nia her Championship match, like she promised she would. She hasn't promised you anything. You won some ridiculous mix tag match at Extreme Rules. Do you honestly think that makes you deserving of a Championship match?"

His familiar cackle bounces through the arena as he steps closer to her. Backstage, Dean can feel his blood starting to boil. The vein in his neck is pulsing, his eyes trained on Rollins's every move.

Rollins has Sasha backed against a turnbuckle, his face inches from hers. "You don't just get handed a Championship match. You earn a Championship match. When you've done that, how about you stand out here and call her out, huh? So why don't you just accept your place at the back of the line, like a good little solider. But if you want to do things the hard way..."

His voice trails off just as Emma gives Sasha's right knee – the one Nia had damaged earlier in the year – a swift kick, making the violet haired woman stumble and fall.

"This was a set up," Booker T crows from ringside, shaking his head. "Alexa knew she couldn't beat Nia so she had Rollins help her escape with the title and now she's got Emma doin' her dirty work, out here by takin' out Sasha Banks. She knew Sasha would be next in line and she's getting rid of the competition. I'm disgusted."

"Disgusted?" Corey's tone was incredulous. "How can you be disgusted? Alexa Bliss is doing whatever she has to, to retain her Championship. And didn't you always say, Book, you do whatever it takes to keep your Championship, whether it's by hook or by crook? Sasha had the nerve to call Alexa's title defense pathetic and now she's getting what she deserves. Oh, there's Emma with a vicious forearm to the face, sending Banks reeling as she struggles to just get back to her feet. Her knee, originally injured at the hands of Nia Jax back in February, may be damaged again."

"Hold this," Dean grumbles, shoving his title at Roman before peeling of his leather jacket and throwing it to the floor. He's seen enough. Roman can't help the confusion on his face as he watches Dean sprint from backstage to the ring.

"Well, this is interesting," Cole's tone is bemused as he sees Dean running toward the ring. "Intercontential Champion Dean Ambrose seems intent on joining the fray, as he slides into the ring and wastes little time going after Rollins who set Emma's beatdown of Sasha in motion!"

"Rollins wasn't expecting this! The Boss had company comin'!" Booker chortles, clapping his hands. "Ambrose was not gonna let Rollins get away with this and here we go! Air Ambrose is takin' off with that suicide dive that sends Rollins into the barricade!"

While Seth and Dean brawled outside the ring, Sasha managed to get a hold of Emma. "Oh, backstabber!" Cole yelped. "We know what that means! Sasha came out here looking to make a statemet to the Champion Alexa Bliss and it looks like it's going to be a Bank Statement! She's got it locked in on, Emma! She's got it locked in! And there's Ambrose, a Dirty Deeds to Rollins outside the ring! And the officials prying Sasha's hands away from Emma until she finally releases the Bank Statement, but the damage has been done. There's no way Alexa won't see the statement made by Banks here to tonight."

Climbing into the ring with Sasha while Seth and Emma retreat up the ramp, Dean grabs her hand and holds it up high. They trash talk the other two until they've disappeared through the curtain.

"What the hell was that?" Sasha demands, eying Dean suspciously once they're backstage. She's still hobbled by the beatdown, not putting any weight on her knee as he helped her up the ramp, his theme blaring behind them.

"My one good deed for the year," He winks and Sasha hates how his stupidly attractive dimple makes her stomach tumble. There's a flutter of her heart when his fingers grace the back of her knee – they're sitting now – and her skin (on fire, briefly from his fleeting touch) is ice cold when he pulls back.

"You're gonna want to ice up that knee. Before you jump down my throat," His lips curling into a smirk. "I'll be a good boy and keep my hands to myself, but you can't be roomin' alone tonight. You got pretty banged up out there and the doc's gonna tell you someone should keep an eye on you and you don't really want Reigns and Martinez hovering do you?"

Sasha bit down on her lip, twisting the flesh between her teeth. Roman had warned her about Seth, but if he knew Dean was doing whatever he was doing, would he warn her about him too? He promised he would keep his hands to himself, but would he? Did she even want him to?

Whoa, she thought, wondering where the hell her mind was going. She took in a shaky breath, her eyes roaming over every angle of his face. The flat forehead, long nose with its button tip, the alluring shape of his full, pink lips and those damn chipmunk cheeks that ended in a sharp, strong jawline. It didn't help that the black t-shirt he wore was clinging to the broadness of his shoulders and chest.

The jeans he was wearing fit him too well, she was sure.

Releasing the shaky breath, all she could think about was how Bayley would be hovering; her soft eyes drowning in concern, her lip between her teeth and then there would be Roman. Roman would treat her like his little girl; never leaving her alone, constantly asking if she was fine, reminding her not to fall asleep, to keep her knee propped up and ect.

God, she really didn't want to deal with all of that.

"You promise?" She answered, eying him warily.

"Cross my heart," That damn heart-stopping smile as he made an 'x' over his heart. "Hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

"You're ridiculous," A breathy giggle as she shakes her head, taking his hand so he can help her to the trainer's for the exam.

At least that kangaroo didn't seriously hurt my knee, Sasha thought as she hobbled next to Dean with her crutch. The crutch was just a precaution for now. She hated that she would have to sleep in a brace. They were heavy and uncomfortable. Nothing was worse than sleeping on her back. She liked curling around her pillow and sleeping on her stomach.

"I hate knee braces," She confessed with a growl, leaning against the wall of the elevator. "They're so bulky and heavy. At least that damn kangaroo didn't do serious damage."

"Kangaroo?" Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a good one. So what does The Boss do when she's gotta be laid up?"

"Hopefully something good is on tv and room service doesn't suck. If it was me and Bayley, we'd catch up on like Jane The Virgin or some other girly show you would think is lame."

"In your panties and then you'd have a gnarly pillow fight, huh?"

"Don't make me regret letting you room with me."

"Relax, darlin' it's just a joke. If anything, you and Martinez probably braid each other's hair. Or paint your toenails and shit."

Sasha twisted her hair into a quick messy braid after they walked into the hotel room. She wanted nothing more than to flop onto the bed – sans knee brace – and eat something horribly bad for her, but she couldn't. She was hobbling around on one leg and she could barely get her sneakers off.

"Ugh," She groaned, wanting to throw her shoes at the wall.

"Calm down," Dean remarked, shaking his head. "I got you. I've been banged around more than a few dozen times, remember? Just relax, all right?"

"This better not be some ploy to..." He cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. "What is it you said about me? That I'm an asshole, but not 100% a dick? Well, I'd have to be a pretty big freakin' dick to use your banged up knee to get in your pants, wouldn't I? Also, gimme some credit here, darlin'," A flash of a wicked grin. "If we ever get to that point, I want you at a 100%. You can't enjoy your ride on the big, bad Ambrose train with a bum knee. It kinda limits the experience, y'know? Can't really have you," His voice dips low as he slides her sneaker off her right foot, his fingers lingering on the arch and the heel, making her shudder. "All the ways I'd want to."

There's a wink and the other shoe is taken off her left foot, landing on the carpet with a thud and she feels her thighs clench and unclench. There's a trail of heat from where his fingers had been and under his warm gaze her heart can't help but flutter. Quickly, she stomps the feelings down. She can't do this again. She was another notch in Finn Balor`'s fabeled bedpost that went from Toyko and Osaka to Tampa and Orlando back when they were both at NXT and then Mikaze... She thought he was the one, but being on the road took its toll and she was left holding the pieces of her shattered heart.

She wasn't going to be stupid and fall for another pretty face and muscled body. She refused to.

"Thanks," She mumbled looking anywhere but into those too blue eyes. "I got it from here."

It's not fair, Sasha thinks when the bathroom door opens and Ambrose ambles out. She's changed into her pajamas; lounge pants with Luna from Sailor Moon's face all over them and the matching tank top and has been flipping through the channels for about fifteen minutes while he used the bathroom to change. He's wearing basketball shorts and of course no shirt. The shorts are slung low on his hips revealing tantalizing hip dents and slashing obliques that highlight the ridges of his six pack. The broadness of his shoulders in contrast to his criminally smile waist is on full display just like the tempting curve of his pecs.

Sighing heavily, she focuses back on the television screen and is at least thankful for small favors, the original Guardians of the Galaxy is on. It's the scene where the Guardians end up on Knowhere so they can sell the orb to The Collector, the buyer Gamora had been hinting at since she, Peter, Rocket and Groot had all been arrested on Xandar by the Nova Core.

"Find somethin' to watch?" Ambrose's gritty tone breaks through and as she turns, she reminds herself to focus on his face. "Yeah," She answers. "It's the original Guardians of the Galaxy. It's not my favorite Marvel movie, that's Winter Solider – at least y'know till Black Panther comes out – but since there's nothing else on and I don't feel like getting out my laptop for Nextflix, this is good."

"Never seen it," He comments, laying back on the bed next to hers, arms folded behind his head and it's so hard not to notice the way his bulky biceps flex.

"It's almost over. That's, um," She points to the good looking guy in a red leather jacket with a knapsack slung over the front of his body. "Peter Quill, he's a junker guy who was kidnapped by a group of space pirates called the Ravagers after his Mom died of brain cancer when he was ten. He travels the galaxy as an outlaw that calls him self Star-Lord and the girl that's with him," She points to the woman across from him whose skin is a soft green color. "Is Gamora. She's a gentically modified asassain. They're on the planet called Knowhere to sell off this orb that could destroy the galaxy if it gets into the hands of the person she used to work for called Ronan."

"He's like Han-Solo, then?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"my mom liked to share with me all the pop songs she liked growin' up. i happen to have it on me when," there's a hitch in peter's voice as he stares into gamora's deep, dark eyes while she tilts her head curiously, silently urging him on.

"the day that she... uh... when i left earth," he finishes as he reaches for the walkman strapped to his belt. "what do you do with it?" she asks. "do? nothing, you listen to it. or you can dance."

"i'm a warrior and an asassain. i do not dance."

"really? well, on my planet there's a legend about people like you. it's called footloose and in it a great hero named kevin bacon teaches an entire city of people with sticks up their butts that dancing... well, it's the greatest thing there is."

"who put the sticks up their butts?" "no, um, that's just..." "that is cruel" "... a phrase people use."

slipping the headphones around her ears, peter pulls away letting her listen for a moment as a smile crosses his lips when her head bobs slightly. "THE MELODY IS PLEASANT!" yelled right in his face, makes him blink and take a step back before he moves closer after a beat, his hand reaching for hers, his fingers slipping into the grooves of hers.

he leans in while she tilts her head up, their lips inches away when... suddenly she yelps, "NO" and pulls out a knife, holding it to his throat as he leans backward against the rail and gasps, "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"i know who you are, peter quill and i am not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your... your pelvic sorcery!"

"Don't tell me that's what you're worried about..." Dean stops talking when, as the music fades away, he hears soft snoring from the bed next to his own. He can see Sasha's chest rising and falling with the even breathing that comes from being asleep. He glances at the nightstand next to her bed and finds a pack of painkillers opened along with a glass of water. There's a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he moves away from his bed and easily takes her in his arms, careful of her knee in the brace and rolls down the covers of her bed.

He covers her with the blanket after laying her back down and bends forward, brushing his lips across her violet hair. He picks up the remote and lowers the volume before settling back into his own bed.

Space adventures aren't his kind of thing and he's always been more of a DC guy than Marvel, but he finishes the movie, anyway, laughing at the movie's climax, which is Peter distracting Ronan with a dance off, thinking that's something i would totally do.

"I got your back," Dean doesn't know why he's telling Sasha this as they pack up the rental the next morning. "You got my back?" She questions, arching a dark brow as her arms fold themselves across her chest.

Her posture is nothing but defensive, almost like she's saying 'stay away' just by the stance she's taking. He can't help but notice one slim hip jutted out to the side. There's a sliver of smooth mocha skin he can see from where her shirt rides up slightly. One of his hands could spand the entirety of her waist, that's how tiny it is.

He swallows thickly, his eyes moving upward, taking in the pert shape of her breasts. Her lips, full and perfectly proportioned, come next. Finally, he's staring into her eyes; a soft chestnut brown with flecks of amber and his heart trips up. It hits him, hard, in his gut the realization of just how beautiful she really is.

"Yeah," He answers, finding his voice after a long pause. "I got your back. Bliss and Rollins, in whatever rat-infested hole they're in right now, are workin' on strategy for tonight. She ain't gonna forget that you walked away from what was supposed to be a beat down that kept you out of commission. And Rollins? Well, we got a history that goes back before The Shield. He's not gonna run with his legs tucked between his legs," He smiles when he hears her warm laughter when he references the other man's infamous botch on the mic. "I wouldn't be surprised if Bliss showed up during his match with Balor` tonight. Not that I care. It don't matter to me if it's Balor` or Rollins or both of 'em, I'm walkin' in as Champ and walkin' out the same way."

"Why do you care if that wannabe Barbie and her little Australian troll doll want to beat me down? It's not, like, we're friends or anything."

"We don't gotta be friends for me to have your back. We don't have to be anything except on the same page. Bliss thought she could use Rollins to get the upper hand on you cause you wouldn't have anyone who could take him on in your corner. I mean, no offense, to Swann and all but Rollins ain't gonna be runnin' scared if he had come down the ramp, y'know what I'm sayin'?"

Sasha sighed, taking in every inch of Dean's 6'4, 225 pound frame. She knew all too well what he was saying. And not just from looking, either. She hadn't forgotten what it was like to be pressed against him, how he was solid muscle and how that made her feel. Her stomach twisted and tumbled as she stared into his stormy blue eyes. Her breath hitched as he closed the space between them, his hands pulling her arms away from her chest.

His rough palm against the smooth skin of her cheek made her shudder. She felt warm all over as he bent closer, lips hovering just above her own while his other hand held hers, his long fingers slipping in between the grooves of her own.

"Don't..." A pitiful attempt at a protest, making her hate how weak she sounds.

"I know what you think about me, all the shit you've heard backstage," A heavy sigh as he squeezes her hand. "I ain't gonna stand here and lie, most of it's true. I don't do much stickin' around when it comes to women. I don't know what the fuck is goin' on," He admits, lips curling and dimple appearing. "But this ain't just about havin' your back. I do everything hard and fast, don't really think twice, I just jump in and I get it, if I were you I'd be skiddish, too but what's so wrong about takin' a chance? Sittin' on the sidelines never got you anywhere."

"Dean..." A pathetic whimper as she shuts her eyes. "None of that," He urges, thumb brushing over her cheek, coaxing her eyes open. "I ain't so bad," He assures. "Once you get to know me."

"I don't believe you," Giggling as she shakes her head. "Then I guess," Leaning in futher, his tone deep and filled with heat. "I'll have to prove it to you."

The feeling of his lips on hers was better than she could have ever thought. The kiss was soft, not the rough edge she expected from the gritty brawler. Easily, he had her opening her mouth for him, his tongue probing as she clutched tightly at his broad shoulders, nails clawing at the fabric of his shirt to keep him close.

He pulled away first, their chests heaving from their lungs burning as they were starved for air while his head was tilted boyishly as he rumbled, "That's how you do it like a Boss, huh, Banks?"

A loud groan at his horrible pun and she punches him in the shoulder, grumbling, "You spent too much time with Becky on Smackdown, Ambrose."

"Please, Lynch, wishes her pun game was as good as mine."

"Uh-uh, suuuuuuuuure she does."

"Like I said," Dean said as he climbed into the passenger seat after they had grappled over the keys. "I got your back."

"I know," Sasha said as she buckled her seat belt, giving him a warm smile. "And I got yours. Rollins and Bliss are gonna regret messing with us and we're gonna prove it tonight."

"I don't wanna," Dean whined when they were backstage after they had changed into their gear. "I hate selfies," He groused, pulling a face. "Can't we just walk out there and start throwin' punches?"

"One picture won't kill you," Sasha remarked with a roll of her eyes. "How do you know?" He challenged, reaching out to pull her close. "I could be one of those people who believes a piece of their soul is taken every time somebody snaps a picture."

"Except you're not," She murmured, standing on her tip toes to let her lips hover over his. She bit at his full bottom lip before trailing kisses up his scruffy jaw, moaning as his hand reached around to squeeze her ass. "Just take the picture and maybe," She emphasized, one of her hands running along the length of his arm, smirking at the feeling of his biceps flexing under her fingers. "You'll get lucky tonight. If you do, then we'll talk about how you do it like a Boss."

"Yeah?" A heady groan falling off his lips, his tapped hands holding her delicate face in his hands.

"Take the picture and you'll be a step closer to finding out."

"The things I do for you and we haven't even fooled around yet... Ow," He grumbled after she smacked him across the chest. "Don't let that mouth ruin your chance," She warned wagging a finger.

"Just take the damn picture so we can get out there and knock those two snakes around."

Sasha snapped the photo, both of them wearing matching scowls and captioned it: SashaBanksWWE: AlexaBliss_WWE and WWERollins are talkin' a lot of trash too bad TheDeanAmbrose and i ain't scured. they're lookin' for a fight and we're ready #LegitLunatics