Welcome back everybody, thanks for stopping by. Are we ready to do this crazy thing again? Yes? Okay, without further ado then...
One.
The guy slopes in sometime around mid-morning and is still there when Roman returns from late lunch. The gym is located in a pretty bad neighborhood and so unsavoury looking customers aren't exactly untoward, but there's something about the man that makes Roman falter and draws up the hackles across the back of his neck.
Something about him just feels off somehow, like he doesn't belong there.
"Hey, who's that?"
Truth looks up and then follows the pointing finger before making an understanding sort of o-shape with his mouth,
"We've got another try out, little man will be happy."
In mentioning little man he's talking about Dean, who several months earlier had mooted a new proposal whereby people could drop in and try the gym out for free, with the expectation being that they would then want full membership, which in the nine weeks it's been running has taken off pretty well. On top of that however it's just another example of how the kid is flourishing within the red brick walls and how his business mind is not only sharpening but at the same time sort of broadening as well. In actual fact Roman is utterly damn proud of him and sometimes it seems the kid is proud of himself too –
None of which changes the look of the man in front of them who is going so slowly on one of the treadmills that he's actually in danger of grinding to a halt and who doesn't seem interested at all in the exercise which seems to defy the point of hitting up a gym.
Roman frowns,
"How long has he been on there?"
Because he swears the answer is a couple of hours, which would certainly explain why he's moving so slowly but not a lot else.
Truth shrugs,
"Not sure man."
He follows it up by indicating the open floor space, which is bursting with people burning calories and sweat, in a way that had seemed hopeless not nine long months earlier –
Or at least until the time when Dean had shown up.
In short though what it means is that Truth can't watch everyone and so hasn't been keeping real tabs on the man and in response Roman nods and blows a short breath out because he doesn't want to make it seem bigger than it is. Besides which Truth has a knack for reading people which could never be accused of having steered them wrong and so if his internal meter isn't screaming and whistling then maybe it's Roman's that is suddenly turned off?
He sighs in response,
"Where is uce anyway?"
"Helping a pretty girl out with her training."
"He's what?"
Truth grins broadly and then nods across the room a bit towards the space where their various weight benches are set up. Sure enough the perky sixteen year old is stood there and hovering keenly beside a skinny well-toned blonde, wearing a goofy sort of look across his features and with a pair of heart shapes where his eyes usually are. The woman laughs – well, more like titters – then reaches out and lightly bats at Dean's arm and in response Roman feels a little building hitch of worry because the woman is quite possibly old enough to be Dean's mom. Or if not his mother then at least an older sister or potentially even a youthful looking aunt. Either way the one thing she isn't young enough for is flirting with a teenager.
Roman blinks,
Nuh uh.
He's stalking across the floor before he registers he's moving and glowering as well with a hot protective rage, because what kind of woman sets romantic sights on children instead of trying to find herself a man her own age? Aside from which Roman has only just freed Dean from years of abuse at the hands of his old man and so while the giggling blonde may not want to beat on him, Roman damn sure isn't going to let her lead him astray.
It is why he arrives by the weight bench looking testy and with a mean sort of glare he doesn't very often use and even then hardly ever on women –
Dean looks up grinning,
"Uce, this is Carmel."
Her eyes widen slightly and then she flutters her lashes,
"Uh, it's Carmella."
Roman grunts back because he still isn't sure of her or her intentions and her general look isn't one that screams him, being far too powdered and fluffy haired to be attractive although he nods out of courtesy even through the warning glare,
"Nice to meet you."
"This is Roman," Dean scampers round and snatches up his brother's arm, using it to tow the clueless gym owner closer until the pair are stood right next to her, "Guy I was telling you about."
Huh?
Evidently there is something going on between them, although thankfully it doesn't seem weird or over-sexed and instead appears focussed on him of all people.
Carmella bats her lids again,
"So you own the gym?"
Roman blinks because as always there's a difference between managing and owning but in the end he nods his head, since most people don't really care for the specifics and only want to know whether or not he's in charge.
"I'm the boss, sure."
She licks her lips a little and in the process manages to swipe off a coating of gloss, but there's a weird sort of hunger as well to her expression and based on it Roman assumes she wants a job. To his side Dean is still stood grinning broadly like an idiot and positively buzzing with a peppy sort of glee, with Roman unsure of what the hell is really happening.
At least until a business card suddenly flashes out.
It's clutched between two manicured fingers and offered beneath a half-lidded wanton gaze. It also contains a name and a telephone number which he takes in semi-bafflement.
She purrs,
"Call me, 'kay?"
Much as she did with Dean – only tighter – she briefly latches her hand around his arm and when he looks up Roman is very nearly startled by how closely and intensely she is staring his way.
"Uh, what about?"
Dean quickly digs him with an elbow, like the question is one he should already have figured out. Only he hasn't and he is feeling more addled than ever.
Carmella shakes her head,
"So cute," she sighs.
In sauntering off past them she swings her hips a little and both of them watch her booty sway side to side, which Roman only realizes very belatedly as he notices Dean's shaggy head bobbing in time.
"Hey."
Frowning a little he shunts the boy roughly which makes him stumble but does at least avert the eyes and Dean blows a breath out once she's clearly out of earshot and adopts a cheeky smile,
"Pretty nice, right?"
"She's too old for you and she's not getting a job here."
Dean blinks,
"What?"
"Girls like that are trouble uce, trust me."
The kid grins a little,
"You think she likes me? Okay sure, I mean, I figured she had good taste an' all an' it's not like I could turn a girl like her down except it isn't me that she wants here big brother."
The use of the nickname throws him a little and Roman falters briefly,
"It's not?"
"Nope," he pronounces the word with a popping sound, then pokes him in the chest for good measure, "It's you."
In saying it – if it's possible – Dean's smile grows even wider and he starts to bounce around on the balls of his toes, looking a lot like a rambunctious puppy who's recently been asked if he wants to go out in the yard. His perpetually messy copper hair helps the visual since it flops up and down like scruffy dog ears and he even pokes his tongue between his teeth and then traps it there which solidifies the whole pooch thing.
Roman heaves out a sigh.
In the close to six months that he and Dean have been roommates the kid has seemingly sort of fully opened up and for the most part Dean spends his days either laughing or flashing them all with an ear to ear grin. It fails on occasion when the kid recalls his father or something triggers a sudden memory of the abuse. But fortunately even those days are getting fewer and fewer and he hasn't had a sweating, screaming night terror in months. In essence therefore, Dean Ambrose is fighter and Roman couldn't be prouder of that fact but the other blunt truth is that the boy is also trouble and so he frowns in preparation,
"What did you do?"
Big blue eyes blink back with a casual little twinkle that almost makes Roman heave a groan out right there, because he knows it's the look that Dean gets when he's thinking or more than likely scheming or masterminding some plan.
"I told her you were single."
Roman gapes at him,
"You did what?"
Dean shrugs,
"Well, I mean, you are, an' you're like eligible too so I figured that she might be the type 'a girl you went for."
"Uce – ,"
The kid falters,
"I – I thought she seemed nice."
He sucks a breath in and then frowns just a little before casting his eyes down to stub the matting with his toes. He's wearing the sneakers Roman had bought him right the way back soon after they'd first met and which he's so damn attached to that he struggles to take off ever. Hell, Roman figures he'd sleep in them given half the chance and that thought makes him shake his head fondly and reach out his hand.
"Idiot, c' mere."
He draws the kid closer, bumping him up against his ribcage and then lifting his paw up to tousle roughly through the hair in a movement that makes the teenager snort at him and then chuckle just a little as he tries to fight him off.
"Roman – ,"
But the bigger man isn't going anywhere and instead holds tighter,
"Listen to me uce, I appreciate you trying to hook me up back there, you hear me? But I'm okay being on my own right now. I got the business, I got this annoying kid brother – ,"
He rubs the hair backwards and Dean struggles again,
"Hey."
Roman ignores him,
"Besides which I would never date one of our customers, way too blurry and she was kinda – ,"
He stops, because it's not in his nature or upbringing to be spiteful and he's right of the cusp of saying something not nice. Dean however doesn't have the same filters and so thinks on it a little,
"You mean she looked like a tramp?"
Roman gapes and then claps his hand around the hair crop to drop it down firmly across the teenager's mouth, trying and failing to stifle his amusement while Dean chuckles through the hold,
"Little brother you are the worst."
As Dean ducks out of his grasp and tries to jab him with what are some of his increasing retinue of boxing skills, Roman snatches up the back of his collar and keeps him at just about arm's length away. The kid is grinning and his face is flushed slightly and it makes him look happy and just so damn alive. There are few things in life that Roman is truly proud of, but taking a chance on Dean all those months back and giving him a job is at the top of the list and he is thankful everyday that he made the decision since it gifted him a relationship that neither one of them would be without.
"Roman," Dean grunts, "No fair, let go of me,"
He twists on the floor and half strangles himself and the bigger man lets go in an instant, laughing,
"Alright, alright, now go do some damn work."
Rolling his eyes the teenager blows a breath out, then spends a second or two re-adjusting his threads. The kid loves his shirt and wears it so proudly it's like the thing is a medal he picked up in 'Nam and chuckling fondly Roman swipes the messy hair again and uses it to joking propel the kid away. As he does that however, he happens to glance up again and his eyes fall directly on the unsettling treadmill guy, whose eyes are damn near burning across the room at them as he watches every movement like he's drinking the scene in. He has stopped his running – well, walking – altogether and is instead just sort of stood by the machine and Roman comes suddenly to the realization that he isn't watching both of them –
He's just watching Dean.
It's possible of course that the look is a simple one, like maybe he thinks the kid is working underage or maybe he has seen him on a local TV spot or in a newspaper interview since they've done a few of those. But deep down Roman feels the look is more disturbing and either way he does not want it pointed at his uce, although as he steps towards him there's a yell from the corner as two guys square up loudly about whose towel is whose. A couple of staff are there in an instant, cooling things down and stepping the men off, but it distracts Roman's view just marginally long enough that when he looks back again, the staring guy is gone.
Damn.
Quickly his eyes find out Dean busy working and he sighs a little in the knowledge that he's safe. Maybe it's nothing and he's overreacting?
Even so, he keeps Dean close for the rest of the day.
Right, so, answers on a postcard, who is the mystery man on the treadmill and is he going to be a good or bad guy?
See you in two days!