Okay, so here they are. Lauren and Dean everybody! Originally this was going to be a one shot, but it turned out really long, so now it's in two parts. Second one on Friday for you lovely people.

Now as you may know, I had a real struggle over the summer and I just couldn't write these two (or anything). But I'm gradually getting my mojo back and I was suddenly hit by this idea. It's basically a continuation of Dearly Beloved and also a bit of a recap. This chapter is normal but the next one is pretty wild!

Fingers crossed that you guys like it! Full length story starting next week!


I Capture The Castle

"That," I announced with a grin of elation as the elevator doors rumbled open with a ping, "Had to have been the best Smackdown ever. I mean, did you even see their faces? I thought Stephanie's head was going explode for sure and cover the front row in green alien brain juice."

I gestured with my hands for added emphasis.

Kaboom.

In front of us there was a long and very gaudy looking hallway, filled with rows of bland looking doors and a boobs and penis drawing someone had sketched on the ceiling, which was a classy addition to a not so classy place.

Not that I minded.

In fact Da Vinci could have been there with a ladder and a paintbrush Sistine Chapel-ing the place and I would probably have been too amped to notice since I was firing on adrenaline and newlywed bliss. Nine hours and six minutes of bliss to be specific. Because yep. It had sure been one heck of a day.

"Yeah baby girl," Roman chuckled, "I saw them, not sure anybody could have missed it back there, what with uce tossing The Miz out in the middle of his segment then announcing to the world the pair of you had gotten hitched,"

He put out a hand and ruffled Dean's hairstyle, which was frankly deserved for a whole lot of things. But mostly because we had actually won for once. Our announcement had literally come out of the blue and no one backstage had known it was coming.

Not Stephanie, not Vince, not Hunter.

No one.

My Disney villain stepmother had stormed out onto the ramp afterwards to scream and bitch and generally be a McMahon, while my father had stood a few steps back looking –

Wounded? Ouch.

I bit a stab of guilt down at that then squeaked as the elevator doors pinged a second time and started to rapidly close towards my head. Although thankfully Roman and Dean each threw a hand out and stopped the near squishing.

I winced,

"Phew, that was close. Thanks guys."

Dean snorted,

"Fuck. Come on Mrs Ambrose, before some other shit happens out here, an' you get yourself freakin' abducted by aliens, or fuckin' mole people."

I grinned at him.

"Hmmm. You know, I kind of love when you say that."

He blinked at me,

"Mole people?"

"Nooo," I huffed, "When you say Mrs Ambro – ,"

Reaching a hand out he covered my mouth over and then pulled me into a headlock of sorts as he stepped from the elevator out into the hallway and then waved my hand like a marionette,

"Princess, say goodnight to the Big Dog."

"G'f night Bib Bob," I mumbled into his hand before licking his fingers which I hoped would freak him out a bit. Except nope, of course it didn't. Why would it have done? My husband had once literally reattached his own nipple.

Roman chuckled,

"Heh. Right back at ya baby girl and hey congratulations you damn crazy idiots. No two people in the world I would want happier."

Awww.

Dean put a fist out towards him.

"Thanks uce."

Roman smiled and then bumped it back which was basically the male equivalent of I love you and I'm hungry and everything between. Because newsflash. Men were weird and especially burly wrestlers.

Ping.

I blinked as the doors creaked a third time and as Roman began to vanish out of sight again, since his room for the evening was on the floor above, given that the hotel had been booked up pretty solidly, thanks to not only the sold out Smackdown taping, but also a convention of professional lookalikes in town.

Before they closed fully he pointed a finger,

"Oh and hey try and keep it down tonight, because some of us in here need to get us some beauty sleep. So no howling and making loud baby girl."

I blinked at him,

"Mmph?"

Because okay, so maybe sometimes I got a tad noisy but I'd never been that loud.

Right?

Dean chuckled in my ear and then kept on waving my hand like a puppet until our lovable Big Dog had completely disappeared, at which point I peeled my husband's hand from my lipstick and then huffed way too loudly,

"Hey I do not ho – oh," I blinked, because Abraham Lincoln was coming towards us, complete with the beard and the really tall hat. Even though it had a big dent in the middle. I guessed from having been stuffed into a case. He glared at me, having clearly heard the whole conversation and I blushed,

"Um, he was kidding I really don't howl. I mean, not that I'm silent because that would be weird too. Oh, I mean, unless that's your thing. Which is totally cool if it is – ,"

Dean grabbed my elbow,

"Hey, whoa Lauren, take it easy okay? You don't have to tell him your whole freakin' life story. An' besides, if we're lucky then he's goin' to see a show. In which case, you know," he made a gun with his fingers then grabbed my hand beaming like a naughty little child, as one of founding fathers of our country frowned towards us.

Oops.

But on the plus side he did look cute and the smile made his actual dimples pop out.

Dean I meant not Lincoln.

He winked at me,

"Come on wife. What do ya say we go an' check our room out, because you an' me got a marriage to freakin' consummate."

"Okay."

Beaming like an idiot I let him tow me along the corridor, passing by rooms which were actually named, rather than numbered like other places I had stayed at over my eleven long months on the road.

I blinked at them. Egypt. Caveman. Cowboy. Was it just me or did they sound a little weird?

Fishing the keys out Dean stopped beside a doorway, which I failed to notice since I was reading all the tags, so bumped into his back and was rubbing my nose tip when he pushed the door open to let us inside, before pulling me back and suddenly blocking it with his body.

I blinked,

"Is something wrong? Oh no. Is it Steph? Did she do something in there? Like maybe rig up a slime bucket or send us a man eating tiger or bear?" because all of those things would have so been in her playbook.

Although –

Wait a minute. How did she know where we were staying? Telekinesis? Flying monkeys? Double agents? Dean blew out a snort then swept me up against his chest so he could carry me over the threshold and –

Ohhh.

Got it.

I looped my arms up over his neck and then giggled like a child,

"Hello."

He grunted,

"Figured that we like, probably freakin' needed to do the thing."

"Yep," I nodded, "The thing is important."

Even though we had technically done it before, twenty four hours earlier after the crazy Raw taping where my father and evil stepmother had tricked me into a wedding gown and then tried to force me to marry Randy Orton, live on screen in the middle of the ring. Dean had come to save me thank goodness and had even super sweetly carried me into the locker room. But that had been before we were married, whereas this time it was real.

He hitched me higher,

"Ready wife?"

"Mmhmm," I nodded back, having to bite my lip down to stop from squealing and then swiping the baseball cap up off his head and putting it on mine, but backwards to be adorable. Oh and also because I was down with da kids.

My husband rolled his eyes up then pushed through the doorway and in response I leaned over and flipped on the light expecting the usual cream colored hotel decor and store bought hanging art.

Only, nope.

"Oh holy fuck – ,"

Our room for the evening was a literal castle. Or fine, maybe not but it sure looked like one. With wallpaper designed like big rough chunks of stonework and with a pelmet and pennants hung over the bed. There was even a mural daubed up on the ceiling with a blonde headed princess in a pretty blue dress making heart eyes at a sword waving soldier who was trying to fend off a dragon type thing. If I squinted then the beast looked a little like Stephanie.

Huh.

Maybe Da Vinci had been round after all?

Dean chuckled,

"Fuck," but he looked strangely delighted as he spun me around in his arms like a kid, taking in the crepe paper doors to the closet which someone had given a drawbridge effect and then to the bathroom which was –

Oh.

Completely normal since there was presumably only so much basic arts and crafts could do.

He grinned,

"Guess this must be like, one of those sleazy themed places. Fuck. I always kinda wanted to stay in one of these. Like, a real skeevy deal all grimy an' dirty."

I furrowed my brow in bewilderment,

"Wait, you have?"

Because as far as I was concerned the damp and slightly musty odor and the stains on the carpet were not bucket list stuff and certainly not on our long awaited wedding night, for which I had pictured a place beside the sea and maybe with a rolltop bathtub in the bedroom, because that had seemed romantic.

But this?

Dean nodded,

"Are you kiddin' me? Princess, I mean will ya take a freakin' look here? This is like, as freakin' kinky as they come. Kinda makes me feel like bein' a horny fuckin' scumbag."

My ears pricked up like a terrier dog,

"It does?"

Oof.

I squeezed my legs in closer together as a flash of sudden heat bled up through my bones and started to make my fingertips all fuzzy and my cheeks and my –

Ahem.

My husband snorted and spun me round,

"Figure I would probably be some evil baron who freakin' kidnapped a beautiful Princess from some ball, an' took her away to his scummy lookin' castle to make her all nasty."

He was grinning at the thought, which meant that his dimples popped out. Or well, inwards, because yep, his dimples absolutely popped in, which I tested by running my fingertip over one, then squeaking as he pretended to bite at my nail.

Bad dog.

I giggled,

"Hmmm, nice try, but no chance mister, because you could never be the bad guy. Not to me at least. You always get me out and you always come through for me, so that means that you would have to play the hero knight who came and rescued me away from the bad guy. I mean, not that I need rescuing, because I'm kind of badass. Eep – ,"

I let out a scream as Dean suddenly dropped me earthwards, opening up his arms and letting me plop onto the bed, which based on the way that it sunk underneath me had seem some heavy use. But it was comfortable though.

He followed up by launching in over the mattress, making me let out a high pitched sounding laugh as he bench pressed up above me and blocked out the lamplight.

Ugh.

God he was literally the handsomest man alive. How was he so handsome? Hovering inches above me on his stupid muscly forearms, with his blue eyes crinkled up from where he was biting the tip of his tongue down and with his hair still damp in places from the show, but drying all fluffy. He tapped my nose teasingly.

Boop.

"Now listen up wife."

I beamed,

"Listening."

"If I say I'm the bad guy then I'm the freakin' bad guy, an' nothin' you say or do is gonna change that, because I'm the man here an' – ,"

Ping.

I popped my shirt open to reveal the best lacy bra that I owned. My pretty blue one with floral swirls and a diamante. Dean peered down at the ensemble in surprise and so I sucked in a breath to make my breasts heave up and at which point he lowered his head in towards them and ran his hot little nose over the lace fronts.

"Fuck."

"Now what were you saying about being the bad guy?" I smirked, teasing my the ends of my fingers through his hair and briefly wondering what else my boobs could get me. Chocolate? Money? Ooh, chocolate money?

Dean shook his head,

"Bad guy shmad guy, I'll be whoever you fuckin' want here."

I giggled at him,

"Hmm, well I'm not sure you can help. Because you see, what I really want is a musclebound wrestler. Tall and with a whole lot of messy looking hair. The kind of guy who seems all tough on the outside but is actually a really big cutie inside. Know anybody who might fit the picture?"

Dean blinked,

"I'll get Roman – ,"

He started to clamber back off and I laughed in response then hooked his collar with my finger so I could pull him back down into a long and steamy kiss. His hands slid around to haul me in closer and as I turned in towards him one slid across my butt and anchored me up with our groins sort of smushing and with my fingers in his hair and our tongues clashing hard. Because, I mean, I did say that it was steamy and besides, it was the first time we had been alone in hours, not to mention our first husband and wife interaction, so of course it was hot. Dean and I were in love and not even wild horses could have torn us asunder –

Although, evidently, a ringing telephone could.

"Damn."

As the handset on the nightstand set up a shrill sort of wailing, Dean threw out a hand with his lips still clamped to mine and fumbled with a growl over the plain little cabinet, before hooking the thing upwards and grumbling into it, huskily.

"Yeah?"

"Um, Mr Ambrose? I'm sorry to bother you."

It was the woman from reception we had met five minutes before and whose eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when Dean and Roman had pitched up through the door, since most of her other clientele for the night were lookalikes and so therefore not attractive recently newly wedded men.

Newly wedded. To me.

I snorted at that thought, then started to wiggle my ass cheeks further down the sheets and then in beneath my husband so I could push up his shirt folds and kiss across his abs.

"Uh huh, yep okay," Dean offered back over the phone, giving me a teasing and semi distracted look of warning before planting his clean hand over my face and so at which point I reached down and tweaked at his package. His hips rocked up, "Fuck."

Amused blue eyes snapped down and I shrugged in full innocence like I was clueless as to the problem. Back on the line the receptionist coughed,

"Mr Ambrose? Hello?"

"Crap. Yeah I'll be right there," he grunted in a mumble before dropping the phone back down and then narrowing his gaze to glare at me in Shield mode, which, as it turned out I had actually kind of missed.

Ooh.

I sucked my lip in and he reached down and tweaked it out again,

"You," he smirked, "Are a very naughty wife. Remind me to punish you or thank you or somethin' when I get back from the lobby."

I frowned at him,

"Get back?"

Blowing a groan out he climbed off the mattress which bowed beneath his body and flipped me round onto my front, where I scrabbled like a small and panicky beetle before pushing up onto my elbows with my hair in my face.

Hey.

"'Parently they fucked up our payment or somethin'," Dean offered as he tried to straighten out his rumbled shirt, "Need me to go down there an' run it all through again."

"But I thought you were rescuing the Princess," I huffed,

He grinned at me,

"Lauren, is this some kinky new sex term? Because if it is I like it better when you call it sexy time or, doin' the deed or some other Wisconsin thing."

I blinked at him.

"Um, but those aren't Wisconsin things. Those are just me things."

"Fuckin' figures," he snorted, planting an exaggerated kiss on my head, complete with a hammed up and noisy sounding mwah sound which tickled my skin with his incoming beard and then made me laugh like an actual child, "Five minutes okay baby? Because then I'm comin' back, so I can rescue the freakin' princess as many times as she'll let me."

I bit my lip down,

"It's twice and okay."

Crossing the room – oh, excuse me, the castle – he stopped on the threshold then looked back towards the bed and presumably his new wife lying spread out over the covers, bra on display and with my cheeks flushed sex red.

"Fuck."

Dean slapped himself hard without warning and then gave me a closed handed Oriental style bow, before stepping from the room and clicking the door shut as I grinned like an idiot.

I was married.

Holy crap.

I beamed at the cute little Princess on the mural who I figured most probably knew exactly how I felt, based on the way she was looking at the knight dude. Her big handsome hero.

Kind of like me and Dean.

In one corner of the scene behind Stephanie – I mean, the dragon – there was a brightly painted sun breaking in through the cloud, which made me smile as I blinked up towards it and then swallow down a lump.

"I wish you were here mom. Oh," I faltered, "I mean, not here exactly, because that would be weird since it is our wedding night and we're going to, you know – um – kind of do the deed."

In response the bright sun seemed to wink at me a little, which I grinned at because, yep, that was totally my mom, since she had never been shy about that kind of business, what with her being an artist and all. Dean would have loved her and…

Dean.

I curled my toes up and then hummed a happy note out, because I loved him so much. It physically hurt when he wasn't there with me which, okay was mushy and borderline bleurgh. But it was true. Dean Ambrose had been there every single time I'd needed him, which had been a lot in the previous year what with first finding then falling out with my long lost father and then maybe a few kidnappings and druggings to boot.

I covered my mouth to try and stifle a yawn back then blinked my tired eyes. Because it had been a long day – I mean, becoming a Mrs notwithstanding – and so no wonder I felt tired.

I turned my face into the bed and then decided to rest my eyes a little to make them all fresh for when my husband got back, so we could get down to the business of newlywed sexy time.

Five minutes and no longer –

Then I fell fast asleep.