Originally posted last year and since revised.

It wasn't uncommon for the wrestlers to hit up the hotel bar after a show to try and take some time to unwind and relax. Usually by the time they got back to the hotels the chances of them being recognized were slim. Dean was sitting in a booth by himself in the darkest corner of the bar, which left him completely hidden by shadows. He could see everyone else but they couldn't see him and that was just the way he liked it.

Across the bar at a small table Paige was talking and laughing with Natalya as they each sipped Mai Tai's and every so often her eyes would travel to the dark corner where she knew Dean was sitting on pure instinct alone. Where else would a man like Dean sit, not at the bar certainly. No, he'd want to sit somewhere where he could watch everyone else. He was the type of guy that was always aware of his surroundings, always observing the people around him, always ready to react at a moment's notice. Betrayal did that to a man.

Paige knew what it was like to be betrayed. By friends, by lovers, but most recently by someone she'd considered both. She knew all about the rage and the resentment and how sometimes it filled you up until you felt like nothing but a walking time bomb ready to explode at the slightest provocation. That's why they call him "The Lunatic Fringe", it's why they called her "crazy", those moments when all those feelings overflowed and burst through the surface. Those very rare times when they lost control.

Nattie had been talking to her about something to do with the upcoming pay per view and the dynamic of a tag team elimination chamber but Paige hadn't heard a word she said.

Finally, Natalya noticed Paige's lack of attention and asked her, "Hey, am I boring you or something? You've been staring off into space for like the last five minutes. I know one drink hasn't gotten you that messed up. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong per se I just think that, with the way I'm feeling tonight that I wouldn't be very good company for you. However, there is a handsome brooding man sitting behind us that I think would suit my mood better."

Natalya's eyes flicked to the darkened corner of the bar and she just knew that it had to be Dean over there. Looking back to her friend she spoke in a lower tone than before. "I totally get it. Besides, it's not like I haven't admired the view myself a time or two. Go on and see how things go." Nattie shooed Paige away with her hands brushing them in Dean's direction.

Paige stopped at the bar on the way over to order another Mai Tai for herself and a beer for Dean before heading over to the pitch black booth and sliding in across from him.

He was wearing that black leather jacket the chicks went wild over and one if his signature white tanks. She couldn't make out his face in the darkness but his eyes, those bright baby blues, shined out at her. She slid the beer across the table on a napkin and he picked it up, raising it to his lips and taking three deep swigs, never taking his eyes off of her. Paige watched as he swallowed the muscles working in his neck drawing her attention and her appreciation.

He set the now half empty beer on the table and leaned towards her, crooking a finger and beckoning her forward. She obeyed, leaning across the table until mere inches separated their faces. To some it might have looked like they were about to kiss but all Dean said was, "The tag is still on your jacket." then he got up, chugged the rest of his beer, dropped a $20 on the table and left the bar, not once looking back. The jerk didn't even thank her for the drink.

Paige was about to be extremely angry but when she looked down, sure as shit the tag reading "$24.99" was still attached to her sleeve. She'd walked around backstage, rode in the car here with Alicia and Rosa and had drinks with Nattie and not one of them had noticed the damn thing.

Dean though, with his always moving, always seeing, always intense, blue eyes had noticed. She laughed silently, of course he had noticed though, Dean noticed everything. Everything except the most obvious of things apparently. Scrawled across the napkin she'd put his beer on, the napkin that he hadn't even bothered to look at, were the seven digits that made up her phone number.

Paige grabbed the napkin and ripped it into shreds before dropping her own $20 on the table and leaving her untouched Mai Tai behind. On the way out of the bar she ripped the tag off her sleeve and flung it to the floor, not even bothering to find a trash can. Dean could notice the bloody tag on her jacket but he couldn't see that she liked him.

All the way to the elevator and the entire ride up to the third floor she fumed over his obliviousness. She would have continued her inner cursing of Ambrose all the way to her room but halfway down the hallway her phone pinged, signaling a text. When she looked at the screen she didn't recognize the number but curiosity made her swipe to the right to open the text anyway.

You know how much I fuckin hate technology so you're lucky I like you enough to even bother with this damn thing. Wanna meet up again tomorrow night for drinks?

-DA

Paige held the phone to her chest and let out a girlish giggle. That sly devil, he'd noticed after all.

End

A/N: Written for the prompt pair Dean Ambrose/Paige. If you enjoyed it, let me know it!