Okay, so it's been kind of a long time since I've done this, but over the last few months the writing bug has hit me again and now I literally cannot stop.
This is actually my first WWE story and although I don't usually indulge in oc fics, this one wouldn't leave me alone. I've virtually finished it now, so I figure it's time to start putting it up and seeing what people think. I know I'm probably about three years too late to be writing about The Shield but the way we keep being teased with a potential reunion made me go back and watch some of their earlier stuff and well, what can I say, the result is this fiction. I should also say at this point that (because I find writing real life people and relationships super icky) this is totally kayfabe and set sometime in August 2013.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It's been a real escape.
Hard Luck Woman
To say that my plan had hit a snag was pretty much the understatement of the century. It had hit, crashed, rolled a couple times and burst into a great big ball of flames.
Then exploded.
The annoying thing was that up until that point – the whole crashing, rolling, inferno point – it had actually been going pretty well. I'd bought my tickets, caught my first flight, touched down in Orlando and merrily made my way across the terminal towards the gate for Baton Rouge. I think I might have even skipped I was so excited.
I was fucking doing it.
Until I wasn't.
"Storm front."
"Huh?"
The woman at the desk rolled her eyes at me wearily, presumably because having to repeat herself meant also having to stop jawing on her gum.
"Storm front, all flights cancelled."
The happy little plane ticket wilted in my fist and my stomach churned anxiously.
Oh god, oh god.
Clearing my throat and fixing a wobbly smile in place, I tried to keep the panic from rising.
"O-kay, so, when will flights start up again?"
The woman threw a look at me and although she didn't say do I look like a freakin' meteorologist to you her eyes spelt out the words distinctly and blushing mildly I hurried to explain.
"I mean, not that I'm expecting you to know exactly – I get that you couldn't – but how long do these storm fronts usually take to pass? Are we talking hours or days? Because the thing is, I kinda need to get to Baton Rouge by tomorrow night and if there aren't any flights in the next few hours I don't know how I'm supposed to – ,"
"Rental car,"
I blinked at her, feeling stupid.
"Oh, right – um – and where would I find one of those?"
"Rental car desk."
"Uh huh, uh huh," I nodded vigorously, "And where – ,"
"Out the main doors, across the parking lot and round the corner."
"Got it, thank you."
Sensing that I was by no means her favourite customer of the day – although I'd have paid good money to see anyone that was – I turned on my heels in an attempt to look poised and promptly tripped over my own wheeled suitcase which I had abandoned directly behind my legs in an attempt to ward off would-be bag-snatchers.
Don't judge me okay? I'm from a small town.
The woman smirked widely and I could already tell that the sight of me stumbling across the gleaming floor tiles had become the highlight of her troublesome day. Refusing to make eye contact, I snatched up my suitcase and towed it behind me straight out of the doors.
Outside the clouds were gathering moodily in a fantastic palette of dark grey and smoky blue. As a child I had loved being tucked up on the window seat, snug and warm in our cosy little house and watching as the lightning had rolled across the wheat fields and the rain had hammered down hard against the pane. Being out in it however – not to mention whilst towing an unruly suitcase across a parking lot that was easily half a mile long – was a whole different story and as the heavens abruptly opened I broke into a run.
"Crap, crap, crap."
By the time I burst in through the doors of the rental place, I was soaked to the bone and frozen to the core, with big old droplets of bitter summer weather rolling from my hair right down my neck. Inside the office was oddly silent and I glanced up to find the few occupants just staring. A rounded, moustache-wearing guy behind the desk gave me a quick once over and frowned,
"So, the rain's started then?"
I simply glared at him in response and he shook his head and let out a whistle, turning his attentions to the other man present; a tall guy with a suitcase that he had already been dealing with. Fortunately their business seemed to nearly be up and pushing a sheet of paper forwards, moustache-guy plucked some key off the walls.
"Okay, so you just wait right there and I'll go and bring her round for you, alright?"
If the other man answered then I didn't hear him although Moustache Guy didn't seem to notice, pushing through a door marked staff only and disappearing out of sight. Still trying to shake the rain from my jacket, I watched as the tall man put his name on the paperwork, the gesture a lazy one as if he was bored or had done it a million times already and for whatever reason the apathy intrigued me. The man himself had to be over six feet and – from what I could see beneath a thick leather jacket – was pretty damn broad-shouldered too. Well-proportioned was a better way of putting it. He had a good height to muscle ratio and – wow – I needed to stop obsessing about his physique.
The rest of him was casually dressed; with heavy, well-worn workman boots, a hat pulled down to just above his eye line – but still letting out a few wisps of reddish blonde hair – and a slightly baggy pair of jeans that hung attractively around his thighs and off his –
Stop.
As someone cleared their throat I jumped and glancing up I realised that the guy was staring.
Shit.
Piercing blue eyes gazed across at me unflinchingly and at the corners of his mouth I saw a flicker of smirk.
Double shit.
Instantly I turned my attentions back to trying to brush the rain off my clothing, gasping as a bead dripped right off my waves and dribbled miserably down my forehead.
"Here," I jumped as a box of tissues was thrust in my direction and looked up see Blue Eyes offering them out, "You look like you could use them."
"Uh, thanks."
I tentatively pulled one loose and started to dab at my wringing wet neckline, watching as he dropped the box back on the counter-top. His expression was strange and I couldn't quite decipher it; not open and friendly but not menacing either. If I'd had to call it anything I'd probably have gone with something between coldly amused and utterly disinterested. Luckily the noisy re-emergence of Moustache Guy saved me from having to debate it any further and he slung the keys at Blue Eyes with a wry little chuckle and a ran a hand through his non-existent hair,
"Would you believe it? It's raining cats and dogs out there."
I glared at him. I certainly did believe it. I'd picked up a couple of Pomeranians and a Bengal on the way across the parking lot.
Nice Ass Guy – uh – I mean Blue Eyes snorted and bent down to pick up his bag. Clearly he was done with the whole situation and as he sauntered up towards me, his gaze flickered down and my heart flipped like it was in training for the Nationals. Moustache Guy didn't seem to notice the tension,
"Safe trip to Louisiana,"
I blinked. Huh. So Blue Eyes was going my way. Not that it was a massive surprise. Given where we were and the god damn storm front there were probably plenty of Louisiana-bound travellers wandering around aimlessly trying to work out what to do. Still, they weren't exactly my problem and towing my suitcase up to the desk, I took a deep breath,
"Hi there, I'd like to hire a – ,"
"Sorry," Moustache-guy cut me off instantly, "None left."
"What?"
"He took the last one."
"But – but – ," I stuttered in horror, feeling a tidal wave of disappointment start to build above my head, "It – it can't be. I need to get to Baton Rouge by tomorrow and if I don't make it then I'll have missed the opportunity and – and I barely had the money for the plane ticket out here and – ,"
As another drop of water rolled down my face – and not even I knew if it was an actual tear – the box of tissues was offered out again and I took one and dabbed at my eyes.
Yep, crying.
In spite of the histrionics however, Moustache Man – or Roy as his name badge stated – managed to remain surprisingly upbeat; nodding towards the door with a smile.
"Hmm, Baton Rouge huh? You know, I'm pretty sure that's where he was headed."
My head sprang up in confusion,
"What?"
Roy nodded briefly in the direction of the doorway and then dropped his head to scan through the papers. In the lull another bead of water slid down my nose and onto the linoleum. They would have to get out a wet floor sign when I was gone.
"Yep," Roy struck the sheet with his finger, "Baton Rouge, just like I thought. That's a stroke of luck, wouldn't you say?"
Stroke of luck? I blinked. How was that? Surely he couldn't be suggesting –
"Wait. Are you saying that he and I should share?"
"Not exactly. I mean, he's the one that signed the paperwork – technically that's his car – but he might be willing to let you tag along with him. I guess it depends on how desperate you are."
Damn. I was desperate and both of us knew it but Blue Eyes didn't strike me as a guy who would share, not to mention that his gaze had sent chills through me – how could I cope with him for twelve hours in a car?
"Better make your mind up quickly – he's getting inside."
"Huh?"
Shit.
The sudden panic seemed to make the choice for me and I turned and threw myself back through the doors. I had to get to Louisiana and how I got there I no longer cared. If Blue Eyes was driving that way then so be it – he was going to have me along for the ride.
Outside the rain was still sheeting down heavily and it blew into my eyes like tiny wet missiles, making it virtually impossible to see and sending me into an off-kilter stagger. In the end I didn't so much reach the rental as bump right into it – not that I cared – and yanking open the passenger door, I leapt inside, still dragging my case.
The response I got was half-angry, half-startled – or possibly angry at having been startled.
"Hey – what the hell?"
I didn't waste a second and promptly launched into a hasty reply,
"I know, I know, this is weird and I'm sorry, but – but you took the last car and I have to get to Baton Rouge by tomorrow night for something that could totally change my life and I don't have any other way of getting there and the moustache guy in there – what was his name? Roy. Roy said that you were going to Baton Rouge and so I thought that maybe, just maybe we could share and I – I mean I will literally give you everything I have – which, isn't actually all that much – but I will give it to you anyway if you just let me ride with you. Please."
The words came out at a million miles an hour and with every frantic gesture I made, I peppered the car with more drops of water. But the thing was, I didn't care. I honestly didn't. I just had to make him hear me out before he ordered me to leave. I had nothing to offer him but the truth and I was damned if he was going to stop me before I was finished.
Although as it turned out when I did actually finish, I could have kept going, because Blue Eyes said nothing. As in, not a word.
"Um, I could also take turns on the driving and – and I can help pay for gas and – ,"
God why didn't he just say something? But he didn't, he just eye-balled me instead with those piercing, probing, crystal blue orbs. Maybe this was a bad idea. Yep, okay. This was a horrible idea and I was so busy kicking myself for having made it in the first place that it barely registered when he finally spoke.
"Change your life how?"
"Huh?"
He stared back at me. His voice was deep and gravelly. I liked it.
"You said it would change your life. How?"
For a second I simply blinked at him uncertainly, but then finally I leant forward and unzipped my bag. Pulling loose a crumpled piece of paper I held it up so he could see,
"This."
"A letter?"
"I have to give it to someone."
Blue Eyes looked between the envelope and me, clearly trying to work out whether I was serious or having some sort of psychotic break. I stared back at him, earnest and unblinking, biting my lip and hoping he believed me. He didn't sound confident,
"And that will change your life?"
"Well, I – I hope so. But not if I don't get to Baton Rouge."
Blue Eyes let out a long suffering sigh and shut his eyes briefly,
"Okay fine – but for the record, this isn't me acceptin' this. I don't really want you here, I just get the impression that you wouldn't get out even if I asked. So to save time – what the hell – you can stay. But if you're gonna be here then we need some ground rules. First, you sit there quietly, you don't move, you don't talk about nails or guys or whatever it is you girls like to chitchat about when you go to the bathroom – and secondly, you sure as hell don't touch the radio. Do we have a deal?"
I nodded eagerly,
"Uh-huh, deal – silent, no chitchat, no radio. Got it."
"Good."
He turned back to the wheel with an under-the-breath-mutter that I didn't quite catch and wasn't sure I wanted to either. As he turned the keys the engine came to life and I settled back and allowed myself to breathe again. This was it, I was going to Baton Rouge.
With my case still wedged between my legs and making me more uncomfortable than I already was, I decided to stow it away on the backseat and turned to push it in through the gap. Unfortunately as I did I swiped it across Blue Eyes and transferred the rainwater to his jacket instead.
"Watch it,"
"Oh, wow, sorry," I gulped, hastily pulling a sodden tissue from my pocket; it was one of the ones he had offered me earlier but already it had seen far better days, "Here, let me just – ,"
"I think you've done enough," he snapped, jerking his arm away angrily. Fortunately he didn't stop and drag me out – which I probably wouldn't have blamed him for – but from his expression he was not a happy camper and so remembering Rule Number One, I sat quietly and allowed him to drive us from the airport.
Well, I say I sat quietly. I sat quietly for the first two minutes, after which something important occurred to me and I leant across the console and extended my hand,
"I'm Lauren by the way."
He looked at it distastefully and then took my fingers limply in his, shaking it like I had a disease and he was mindful of catching it.
"Dean."
"Nice to meet you Dean and, hey, thanks for this – you're really helping me out."
For a second I thought the ice was broken, as our eyes met briefly and held for a second. The blue orbs pierced my soul like a laser and I felt my stomach hitch in response. Then, just as suddenly, the moment was over and he turned back to the road again and shook his head,
"Why do I get the feelin' I'm going to fuckin' regret this?"
I said nothing. What did he want from me? Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. But either way, I was getting to Baton Rouge.
Did I mention how much I enjoyed writing this story? Because I really did. Weekly updates (or more frequent I guess if there's enough demand).
Comments welcome.
TTFN.
