DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars.
The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Road Trip
Part I
It was only two hours into a six hour car trip and Dean was bored. This meant that not counting any stops they would have to make, Seth and Roman would have to put up with a bored and possibly crazier than normal, Dean Ambrose for at least another four hours.
The first two hours of the trip had been peaceful for all of them. Dean had slept in the back seat while Seth drove and Roman road shot gun, peacefully talking about trivial things. Dean hadn't even snored, which he was prone to do when he slept on his back.
It was nice, Seth thought to himself, with that same nostalgia most people reserved for thinking fondly back on their first kiss. Dean sleeping, Roman and I shooting the breeze, it was really, really, nice. And it had been; simple, sweet, nice, quiet, relaxed, everything life often wasn't for the three of them. They had nine hours all told to get to the next arena and some nice, quiet highways to explore. Sure, at first they considered flying, but by the time you factored in airports, layovers, all that waiting, it was pretty much as fast to drive there. No layovers, no hanging out in an airport, no rushing to check that little screen to make sure your flight wasn't delayed, which it was bound to be anyway. No trying to hear the announcements, spoken by someone whose first language wasn't English and whose second language was mumbling, over those cheap speaker that crackled like a candy wrapper in a church. No being told, "We're so sorry, but first class is sold out." And what they wouldn't say, but would be assumed was, "You three don't mind jamming yourselves into these seat meant for someone more Hornswoggle's size, do you? And don't worry, we'll make sure to surround the front and side seats from you with eager fans who will stare, giggle, and pester you for autographs. And behind you, we'll put some obnoxious children who will constantly kick the back of your seat. But don't expect their parents will stop them, because they'll be trying to get selfies with you. And at least one girl will try to suggest the four of you all hop into the bathroom and join the mile high club! Thank you for flying the 'friendly' skies!"
Yeah, the choice to drive seemed like a no-brainier, except that they forgot to factor in Dean, or more specifically, bored Dean, a different creature from regular Dean, although there were times when Seth wondered if Regular Dean even existed. Angry Dean did, Goofy Dean did, in the time they had been friends, Seth had gotten to know a lot of different Deans. But he wasn't too sure if he'd ever met Regular Dean.
"How long did I sleep?" Dean asked, yawning and sitting up.
"Almost two hours," Roman said.
"Two?" Dean twisted around in the seat, moving to the middle. It was well known already that if Dean sat in the back, he would not wear a seat belt. They could argue all they wanted, but he would not do it. "Wow, I thought it was longer. Roman, move your seat up," he added, kicking the back of Roman's seat, not hard, but enough to jar the bigger man.
"Really, Dean?" Roman asked, but his hands were already going to the controls. "You're going to sit up for awhile?"
"Maybe. C'mon bro, move the seat up, my knees are cramping."
Roman moved the seat forward as much as he could without causing himself massive discomfort. "Someone really needs to work on making inexpensive rental cars with more leg room. I'd gladly give up about half the trunk."
"I need more room," Dean said, kicking the back of the seat again, a little harder this time. "I can barely get my foot down here."
"Sorry," Roman said, shrugging, "This is all the room I can give you, you'll have to make do with it."
"More!" Dean demanded, kicking the back of Roman's seat again, harder this time, "C'mon, Roman, I need some room!"
"Dean, if I pull forward any more, I'll be sucking my knee caps," Roman protested. "This is my limit!"
I'm glad I'm driving, Seth thought. That was one of the big rules of the car, whoever drove could adjust their seat for maximum comfort. The other two would have to argue it out. And Roman and Dean were doing just that.
"You haven't reached your limit until you can blow yourself," Dean said, again kicking the seat several times in a row. "C'mon, Roman, I need some leg room!"
"Dean!" Roman roared, as each kick to the back of the seat caused him to jolt forward. "You've got the whole back seat!"
"I want to put my feet on the floor!" Dean protested, giving the seat another thump. "C'mon, Roman, you can move up just a couple inches. Just a couple inches is all I need!"
"Dean," Roman said, his teeth gritted, "I don't have a couple inches to spare. My knees are pressed into the dashboard."
Dean leaned forward, peering between the two seats to see that Roman's knees were, indeed pressing into the door to the glove compartment. "Well, okay then." He twisted around in the seat, so his upper legs were resting on the back of the seat, his lower legs on the rear deck, his back on the seat, and his head on the console between the two front seats so he was able to stare up at both Roman and Seth. "Hey, Seth, you've got a zit forming on your chin. It's pretty gross."
He's bored and he's trying to get a rise out of you, Seth thought. Out loud he said, "Thanks for the update, Scott Pelley, can't you sit like a normal person?"
"No," Dean shook his head, "I can't, because The Sexy Beast over here, has a thing about not crushing his kneecaps for my comfort, if you can believe that." He looked over at Roman, "You know, you're not nearly as handsome from this view. I can look right up your nose."
"Now I can't rest my arm!" Roman objected.
"Your knees or your arm, Roman, you can't have both," Dean said with a sly grin. "I'm actually amazed at how comfortable this really is."
"Dean," Seth said, trying to sound patient, although he wasn't feeling that way, "Do you really have to do this?"
"Do what?" Dean said. "Be comfortable? He twisted his head slightly to look up at Seth. "Are you telling me I have no right to be comfortable. That's not really very brotherly of you, is it? And, by the way, that zit? It looks like you've got one of your beard hairs stuck in it, you'd better do something soon or that thing'll get really infected. It happened to me once, got a hair in a zit and the thing got really red and gross. Like it was all white at the base, and the top was all red and yellowish. And it got huge, Seth, really huge. It looked like it was pulsing!"
"Yuck!" Roman shook his head looking disgusted, sparing Seth from having to show the same reaction, although he did curl up his nose. "That's gross, why didn't you pop that sucker before it got that bad?"
"Because you're not supposed to pop zits," Dean said, almost primly, then grinned."Also, it kept guys I was up against from going after my face. Mine was right on my cheek, and if had gotten much bigger it would have looked like I had a conjoined twin in my face. Then, one day I'm practicing with Cody and he decided screw it, hit my face and popped it-"
"-Okay, Dean, that's enough," Seth interrupted, although he knew it was futile. There were times when Dean enjoyed grossing out his team mates, mostly because it wasn't always the easiest thing to do. But if anyone could succeed, it was Dean.
"It was awful," Dean continued cheerfully as if Seth hadn't spoken. "It didn't just pop, it exploded like a puss filled volcano of grossness. And goo went everywhere, a fountain of foul. You could almost see it splattering on the floor of the ring. And it smelled too. I never knew a zit could smell, but this one did. It smelled awful, like rotting meat or something. Cody just stared at me, looked at his hand, because yeah, some of it was on his hand, and started dry heaving. It was probably the most vomitous thing I ever produced in the ring, and that's saying a lot, but-"
"Dean, seriously," Seth said, trying not to sound like he was begging. "That's enough, we get the point!"
"Well, I'm just saying, you look like you could have the same thing," Dean said, shrugging so his shoulders hit the backs of the seats. "And you don't want that, do you? I mean, imagine you're going after Cena and he gets an upper cut on you and pop, zit juice, everywhere, dripping off his hand, maybe even off his face, because that stuff will fly."
"Dean!" Seth warned.
Roman, meanwhile, was chuckling. Yeah, okay, it was gross and disgusting, but inside every man lurked a twelve year old boy who was amused at this type of stuff, and today, Roman's was closer to the surface than Seth's was. "If that happens, we'll see how fast Seth ends up back at NXT, jobbing for Dallas."
"Nah, that'll be too good," Dean said. "He'll end up as a Rosebud or something." He turned his head looking in Roman's direction. "Hey, Roman, you've got a booger hanging around up in your left nostril. One of those dry, crunchy ones."
"Dean!" Seth shouted a little louder than necessary. "Really, do you have to do this?"
"Hey, I'm just trying to be a good brother," Dean said, in mock defense, turning his head to look at Seth. "We've got a promo to do tonight and if he doesn't get rid of that thing, it might end up becoming a whistler." He turned back to Roman. "You need a tissue or something."
"I've got a better idea," Roman said, and before Seth could object, or Dean could move, he blocked off his right nostril with a finger, drew a deep breath, leaned over Dean and appeared to exhaled through his nose as fast and hard as he could. In truth, he inhaled, but Dean automatically flinched and closed his eyes. At the same time, Roman flicked a wadded up, empty gum wrapper, which bounced off Dean's forehead, giving him the illusion that Roman had shot something out of his nose and it had hit Dean's forehead.
"Ew!" Dean flew up, banging his head on the ceiling light. "Roman, that's disgusting!" He wiped his forehead quickly with both hands, twisting around in the seat, rising to try to see in the rear view mirror. "Ew! Is it still on my forehead?"
"It's in your hair," Roman lied as he tried not to laugh and ignored the looks of death he was getting from Seth.
"Gross!" Dean started rubbing his head with the palms of his hand so quickly that his hair started to puff up with static. "I am not walking around with your dried snot in my hair, Roman! That's disgusting!"
"This from the guy who just gave us a glorified description of an infected zit popping," Roman said, still sniggering.
"It's probably clinging to my skull," Dean said, still rubbing his hair and looking at Roman with a venomous expression.
"No, it's not," Roman said. "Bro, it bounced off your forehead and landed somewhere by my feet. You're fine."
"No," Dean objected. "I won't be fine until I wash my forehead." He looked at Seth. "You have to find a rest stop right away, so I can wash my forehead."
"No," Seth said, trying to keep authority in his voice. "You're fine, it was a gum wrapper."
"No it wasn't!" Dean disagreed loudly, still wiping at his hair. "You're just saying that because you know I'm totally grossed out! C'mon, Seth, we've got to do something!"
Seth glared at Roman who was smiling smugly. "I swear, it was a gum wrapper," he said, but if you're that paranoid, use this." He popped open the console between the driver and passenger's seat and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
Dean grabbed the hand sanitizer and squirted a generous amount into his hand, which he began to wipe across his forehead and into his hair.
While Dean was distracted, Seth glanced over at Roman, who was still looking vastly amused. "Really, Roman? Seriously? You had to wind him up?"
"Sure, I did," Roman said, not looking the least bit sorry. "He thought he could gross me out? Well, I think I win."
"You're going to let him keep thinking you flicked boogers on his face?" Seth asked, looking slightly ill at the thought.
"Why not?" Roman said, shrugging. "He'll be fine, you'll see."
Indeed, once he had rubbed half the bottle of hand sanitizer into his forehead and hair, Dean seemed to have forgotten the incident. "Are we still in Pennsylvania?"
"Yes," Seth said, looking at the GPS. "But we're almost at the boarder. We'll be in West Virginia in less than an hour."
"Good," Dean nodded. "Are we performing in West Virginia? I forgot."
"No," Seth said, his voice patient. "We're heading to Charlotte North Carolina." There were times when he got a little tired of feeling like the walking organizer for the three of them, but if he didn't, he had a feeling Dean might wander off and it would take days to find him.
"When we cross the boarder into West Virginia, we should sing their state anthem," Dean remarked, leaning forward so his chin was almost resting on the console.
"What's that?" Roman asked, looking over at Dean and trying not to laugh. The abundance of hand sanitizer he had used on his hair and forehead, left parts of his hair stuck together and shiny.
"Country roads," Dean said, and then began singing loudly, in a very fake southern accent, but this was not the version John Denver had made famous in the 1970s:
Almost heaven, her vagina
Tits like mountains, she's flowing like a river
She's not that old, younger than you'd think
Old enough to vote but, still too young to drink
Trojan Gold, Take me home
To the place, I belong
Her vagina, nothin's finer!
Take me home, them Trojan gold!
Even though the song was stupid and juvenile, Roman burst out laughing, the twelve year old boy inside of him finding it hysterically funny. "Where in the hell did you learn that from?" he asked, when his laughter had calmed down enough so he could speak.
"I don't remember," Dean admitted cheerfully. "Me and some friends might have made it up once when we traveled through there. I think we did."
"Not bad," Roman said. "You could be the perverts answer to Weird Al."
"Roman," Seth said, glancing over at his friend in the passenger's seat, "Please don't encourage him. We're going to have to stop in West Virginia at least once for food and gas. We do not need Dean singing that song in some public place. And you damned well know he's got the balls to do it."
"Yeah, and if he does, I pretend I've never seen him in my life," Roman argued back, still grinning. "When the locals come to lynch him, we run, leap in the car and drive off. We tell Mr. and Mrs. Hunter that when we stopped for gas, he ran out in the middle of the road and got hit by a truck. We'll lookreally sad at the memorial service and no one will ever be the wiser."
"Hey!" Dean said, twisting around again so he was once again lying with with his feet on the rear deck, his head on the console. "You can't do that to me, I'm your brother, remember?"
"Then don't push it," was Seth's advice. "Because the idea is starting to sound better with each passing second."
End of Pt 1
Author's Notes: Yeah, this part is a little crude I know. But, before you start thinking that I'm showing guys being unrealistically disgusting, you should know that I am basing this whole section and the conversations on road trips I have taken with real living guys about the same age as Roman, Seth, and Dean. Including Dean's little spoof on Country Roads. (And if anyone reading this is from West Virginia, a thousand pardons for messing with your State song! The version Dean sings was made up by friends of mine. And it is totally without their consent that I credit it to Dean.)
If you liked this part, or even if (especially if?) you didn't, please feel free to stoke or deflate my ego by leaving a review. Yes, I write for myself, but I share in hopes of reviews. Good reviews make me glow, critical reviews make me try harder. But no reviews is the worst. It completely takes away my motivation.
Anyone who does review will get a response from me, even if it's just to say thank you. If I can, I'll send you a PM. If I can't do that, because you aren't registered with this site, then I'll write my thank you and put it at the bottom of my next chapter.
Until the next part, take care.
Willow.