A/N: So…I'm back with a wrestling fic. I'll be lying if I say I'll be updating my old ones anytime soon…I just don't have the strength to right now. I only returned because this plot line was stuck in my head for weeks and it wasn't going anywhere. It's also one I've never seen, so decided to give it a try.

Obviously the talk of the wrestling town for the past year has been The Shield, and like everyone else, I agree with how badass they look in and out of the ring. I honestly believe Jon Good and Colby Lopez are the future of the WWE in every sense of the word, and Joe Anoa'i is legit one of the best-looking men I've ever seen. So I've decided to jump on the bandwagon and feature them in my new fic. I do hope you get to read and enjoy it, and hopefully review! The first set of feedback is essential because it encourages us writers to keep going. So if you like (or not), kindly let me know. Much appreciated. :)


Sasha Morgan scoured the dairy section of the supermarket in search of skimmed milk, her annoyance growing when it was nowhere to be found. Why was it always that whenever she urgently needed something, it was always out of stock? Happened all the damn time. She couldn't drink any other kind of milk – it was cheaper, for one – and she wasn't sure when she would have time to come back here. For some reason this unfortunate incident was grating on her nerves. She could easily chalk her foul mood to lack of sleep last night. Her bed got lumpier and less comfortable with each passing day. But there was no money lying around to replace the mattress, so she had to suck it up. Experience had since established that uncomfortable mattresses were far better than sleeping on the floor. Still, it did nothing to alleviate her sour disposition.

A heavy sigh escaped her when she remembered she hadn't come to the store alone. What was taking Tyson so long to get a couple of batteries? He was the reason they were here in the first place, to buy batteries for the camera he was using for his field trip today, and the reason he was about to be late for school and she for work. Why he couldn't have reminded her of the batteries during the weekend, she didn't know. She wasn't about to go looking for him. She was leaving the store, and if he wasn't there by the time the bus came, she was leaving without him.

Turning around to make for the exit, she collided into what felt like a brick wall. The impact threw her off balance, and she was sure she would have fallen if she hadn't been grabbed by her arms and held steady before she could keel over.

"Crap. I'm so sorry, ma'am," she heard a deep voice say above her. Regaining her bearings, she pulled away from the strong grip and pushed her hair out of her eyes, more than ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing at her assailant. But when she raised her head, her mouth instantly went dry.

Wow.

He had to be the biggest man she'd ever seen. Well over six feet in height, he towered easily over her five-foot-three frame. He was built powerfully, with muscles everywhere, accentuated by the tight t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. His dark hair was pulled back in a long, slick ponytail, a goatee highlighting his bearded face. At first glance he reminded her a lot of Reggie back at the Grill, with his smooth olive skin tone and strong features, only he was taller than her boss. And much better-looking…

"Sorry about that. Are you okay?" he asked her with concern in his eyes, which, if she was not mistaken, were grey. She would remember those eyes for a long time. She caught herself, however, frowning up at him because he'd jeopardized her safety.

"I would be if you didn't almost run me over with your big-ass self," she retorted. Her smart mouth had gotten her into trouble a couple of times in her life. This was looking like another one of those times. This guy could easily whip her ass with one arm tied behind his back, but in the temperament she was in she was sure she could give him a run for his money. Living in scrappy neighborhoods all her life had taught her a thing or two.

"Hey, I'm trying to apologize here. Relax." His voice was calm and harbored a hint of humor, making Sasha wonder what the heck was so funny. Relax. Easy for him to say. "Just watch where you're going next time." With that, she slipped past him and exited the aisles, muttering under her breath while scanning the busy area for her wayward son. Almost on cue, he came barreling over. "Got the batteries," he announced between labored breaths. "Ready to go?"

She fixed him with a glare. "What took so long?"

Tyson, or T.K. as he preferred to be called – put on his most innocent face. "I was checking out a book for Mia." He wasn't about to admit that he was at the magazine section skimming through the latest editions of VIBE and The Source and lost track of time, she would whip his ass. But everyone at school had read them already, and he didn't want to feel left out during conversations.

"Boy, I always know when you lying, remember? You have the disadvantage of being light-skinned, so your ears turn slightly red." She gave him a look, and he had the decency to hang his head. He'd almost forgotten about his mother's ability to pick out a lie before he even opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, ma." He hadn't meant to; he only wanted a peek of the magazines. Besides, he knew she wouldn't buy them for him anyway. There were more important things to do with the little money they had. Plus, his mother was probably the only black woman on the planet that disliked rap music.

"You better be," she tossed back, rolling her eyes in exasperation at the ridiculously long queue ahead of them at the check-out. In reality it was only about five people but when you were running late, five felt like fifty.

"Mom, that's Roman Reigns," T.K. said, his voice dropping to an excited whisper.

They'd finally reached the front of the check-out and she was busy ruffling through her bag for her wallet. "Who?"

"Over there." He pointed. "That's Roman Reigns from The Shield."

She had no idea what he was talking about. She looked up and followed his pointed finger, her stomach dropping when she spotted the big burly man she'd mouthed off to, walking out of the supermarket with a bag of groceries. "Yeah, so?"

"You don't watch wrestling mom, he's from The Shield, in the WWE," T.K. informed her. "They're the coolest, ma. Their ring gear is so dope." His eyes were still following the man when they left the supermarket. "Can I go get a picture?!"

"Tyson you are late for school." Sasha looked out for the bus.

"Please? It'll only take a minute. I promise I'll be quick. Pretty please, Ma?" He then widened his eyes in that familiar, puppy-dog fashion that Sasha had never quite been able to resist in his seventeen years of existence. With great disinclination, she rolled her own eyes. "Fine. Hurry up. If you miss the bus you gonna be walking five miles to school."

T.K. grinned in yet another triumph over his mom. "Thanks, Ma!" In a flash, he switched directions towards the parking lot. So he's famous. Just great, she thought. On the bright side, Tyson hadn't asked her to tag along, sparing her from another awkward encounter with the stranger.


"Hey, Roman! Roman Reigns?"

Shutting the back seat of his Range Rover, Joe Anoa'i swallowed back a tired sigh as yet another fan called his name. He had hoped to dash in and out of the grocery store without being recognized, but no such luck. He wasn't in the mood but he ultimately understood that pleasing the fans came first. Plastering another fake smile on his face, he turned around to face the kid. "Hey! What's up, man?"

"Sorry to bug you, man. Saw you in the supermarket. I'm a big fan. Could I get a picture?" T.K. held up his camera hopefully, thanking God that he had already put in the new batteries.

"Sure." Joe obliged him, taking the picture without a fuss. "Thanks man, Appreciate it." T.K. smiled, "Y'know, one of these days I'ma be in the WWE."

If he had a dollar for every time he heard that, he'd be on Cena's figure salary by now. There was nothing wrong with dreaming though. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm on the wrestling and basketball teams," was his proud reply. "You'll be seeing me in one of the big leagues soon. NBA or WWE. T.K. Morgan. Remember the name," T.K. boasted, and Joe chuckled. The kid was confident, he had to give him that.

"Ty! Come on, let's go!"

Joe looked past T.K. and spotted the lady he'd bumped into at the store standing at the bus stop and frowning in their direction. "You know her?" he inquired, his curiosity somewhat piqued.

At that, the teenager immediately became defensive. "Yeah. Why?" There were only two reasons men asked about his mother; either they wanted to get with her – it was bad enough his friends at school kept harping on about how 'hot' his mom was – ewww – or they wanted to get at her because she'd been hostile towards them in some capacity. Neither was an option for T.K. He had a duty to protect his mother. If he had his way, no man would come near her ever again.

Joe wasn't an idiot. He immediately sensed the boy's hostility, and deemed it wise to keep his true intentions to himself. "Looks like she's waiting on you," he pointed out.

T.K. sighed, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "Yeah. Sorry, I gotta go. Late for school. Awesome to meet you."

"My pleasure, man. Stay safe, and good luck with school. That's the most important thing."

"Thanks, bro. Believe in The Shield!" Exchanging one last quick bye, he hurried back to Sasha, following her aboard the bus. "What did you say to him?" he asked the moment he was within his mom's earshot.

"Say to who?"

"Roman. What did you say to him at the store?"

"Who, that guy? He bumped into me in the dairy section. Hard. I nearly fell over." A look of disbelief crossed her features. "Wait, he ratted me out to you? That's mature."

T.K. shook his head as they sat next to each other in the back of the bus. "He didn't rat you out, ma. He had this look on his face when he asked who you were, like you'd already met. You probably chewed his ass out, like you always do."

"What did I tell you about cussin', boy?"

"Sorry, Ma. You were rude to him, weren't you? You do that a lot, you know. You need to tone it down, Ma."

"So you're choosing Mr. Muscles over your own mother? That's a lot of groupie love, Tyson."

"I'm not a groupie!" T.K. defended himself.

Sasha smirked. "You sure? Your eyes nearly bugged out of your sockets when you saw him. You rushed over there to meet him like lightning. I think I've only ever seen those Justin Bieber fan girls do that."

T.K. was horrified. "Mom, you did not just compare me to Beliebers!"

"What? That's kind of what it looked like from where I was standing. It was actually cute seeing you all flustered like that." She pinched his cheek, but he ducked out of her reach and abruptly turned to face the window. "I am never speaking to you again," he huffed, as Sasha cackled beside him. "You know I'm just playin' around, baby," she stated, ruffling his short wavy hair.

"I know, ma," he smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek before returning his focus outside. Sasha gazed lovingly at her son. If there was anything she'd done right in this life, it was raising him. And without help, too. She thought about how some moms complained about their boys and realized she didn't have a single grievance to make about T.K. He was respectful, helped out with his little sister, got good grades and was well-liked by the staff and students of his school. Times were hard at home and had been for a long time. Other kids would have been acting out, but Tyson never complained, not once. For a teenage boy without a father figure in his life, he'd turned out okay. He was the light of Sasha's life, her pride and joy, him and Mia, and she would move mountains for them both. Things weren't easy right now but they were going to be better, the single mother kept promising herself. They had to. She and her children had been through too much for there to be any other outcome.


A/N: Slow start, I know. But the next chapter will pick up, I promise. Kindly review!