Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Kelly and Jezlyn.
Rated: M
Warning(s): AU, Slash, Threesome, Friends With Benefits, Mpreg, Uncertainty About Parenthood, etc.

He'd never meant to get pregnant. Hell, he didn't even like kids!

But the little white stick in his hands didn't lie - just as it advertised on the box, three baby blue lines lit up the tiny LED screen. Pregnant.

He dropped the stick into the trash can, burying his face in his hands. He supposed that he could always go out and buy another test, but knew that it was pointless. While he'd always been careful to take every possible precaution, he knew the signs of pregnancy well enough. Morning sickness (which almost never actually occurred in the morning). Odd cravings. Insatiable hunger, followed by periods of being sickened at the very idea of food.

Why buy another test, when it would only confirm what he already knew? And, if he were to be perfectly honest, he had known before administering the first test?

He was pregnant. And he was royally fucked.

It wouldn't be so bad, he reasoned, if he had even a sneaking suspicion regarding the identity of the baby's father. But he hadn't been in a committed relationship in over two years - some scars run deeper than others - and he'd spent the last six months bed-hopping between the beds of Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns. Neither knew about the other, and he preferred to keep it that way. But that was difficult when he could not say definitively which was the father.

This, combined with the fact that he was in no position to care for a child - either mentally, emotionally, or monetarily - had him ready to bash his head against the wall. He was only twenty-nine, living in an apartment that was about to be yanked out from under him (unless he could magically produce the six months back-rent he owed, or find another way to "convince" the landlord to let him stay - and since he wasn't about to lay down and spread his legs for Heyman, that was incredibly unlikely). He couldn't even handle a relationship, what made him think he could handle a baby?

Absently, he placed his hands on his belly, pulling his shirt taut over his abs. Was he just imagining it, or was he beginning to develop a little bit of a paunch? He had no way to tell how far along he was, and had lost his insurance when he lost his job three months ago.

So what was he supposed to do?

He could be honest - clue both Roman and Dean in on what he'd been doing and hope that their potential paternal instincts overshadowed their desire to kill Seth for sleeping around on them. Unlikely. Besides, where had honesty gotten him lately? It had cost him his job, his car, and now his apartment. He had no incentive to be honest, not unless he knew something positive was in it for him. So where did that leave him?

A heavy-handed knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Rollins! Mr. Rollins!" He'd recognize that voice anywhere - it was his landlord, the walrus more commonly referred to as Paul Heyman.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you. I'm coming." He exited the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him. Within seconds, he was opening the door to the apartment.

Paul smiled, revealing two rows of disgustingly yellow teeth. "Your eviction notice, Mr. Rollins. You have twenty-four hours to vacate the premesis... Unless you've decided to reconsider my offer?"

"You're a vile old man, you know that?" Seth hissed. "And no, I haven't reconsidered it. I'm not some slut that will sleep with you for a bribe."

"Not a slut?" Here, Heyman laughed as if Seth had said something terribly funny. "Is that why you're out buying pregnancy tests at the convenience store at three in the morning? The whole building knows you've been sleeping around for months now - finally slip up?"

Seth scowled, not even bothering to ask how Heyman knew about the test. "Fuck off."

"I'd rather fuck you." Heyman responded rather crudely.

"In your dreams." The eviction notice was promptly shoved into his chest hard enough to send him stumbling back. His arms instinctively moved to protect his belly.

Taking the paper from Heyman, he crumpled it up in his hands and slammed the door in the walrus' face. He was barely able to make out the soft 'I'll be sure to count that against your security deposit' before he tuned him out entirely. Twenty-four hours. How the hell was he supposed to get anywhere in twenty-four hours without a car? And what was he supposed to do with all his stuff?

Looking around the shoddy apartment, he realized that using the phrase 'all his stuff' was perhaps a bit misleading. There really wasn't a whole lot there that was of any real value. The apartment was a studio, so the kitchen, dining area, living area, and bedroom were all combined, with a tiny bathroom off in the far corner. As far as furniture went, he had a mattress flat on the floor, a black and white television with bunny ears sitting on a stack of old books in the corner, and a black bean-bag chair in the middle of the room.

Not much, but it was mine. It wasn't even worth the effort to get it down to the pawn shop. So, in the end, it would just get left behind. Paul would have a blast having his goons, Brock Lesnar and Curtis Axel, move the stuff out before they prepped the apartment for the next tenant. Maybe he'd be able to manipulate the next fool between his sheets... Seth almost felt sorry for the poor soul already.

He flattened out the eviction notice, looking it over once, before his phone started to ring. Not even bothering to check the Caller ID, he answered, "Yes?"

"Try not to sound so excited to hear from me, sunshine." It was Dean. Seth cursed under his breath, putting the phone on speaker as he grabbed his backpack and started to stuff it full of clothes and toiletries.

"Sorry... I'm just a little," where the hell was his comb? "busy at the moment." Yes, he was quite busy getting evicted from his apartment, effective immediately.

"Too busy to talk with me? I'm hurt, Sethie." Seth could sense the older man's teasing tone, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Never too busy to talk to you, love. I just... I'm in a bit of a predicament at the moment. I have some stuff that needs to get sorted out, but once I take care of that, I'll call you, okay?" Seth was trying his best to deflect. He couldn't afford to just hang up on him.

"Promise?" There was that teasing note again. "And listen, about tonight -,"

Fuck, he'd completely forgotten about tonight. He'd thought that he'd had plans with Roman... "I actually can't make tonight. I'll explain why later. I just... I have to go, I'm sorry. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up before Dean could say anything else, not wanting to delve too deeply into his own personal turmoil. Tossing his phone in with the rest of the items he could take on his back, he cast one last glance at the items he was leaving behind. While it wasn't much, it was his life. It was everything he'd worked so hard for at that dead-end job of his. And now he couldn't even afford to take it with him.

Life certainly had a funny way of kicking you into high gear, didn't it?