There are a lot of Ambreigns high school!AU stories around FFnet, also on AO3, but I couldn't resist. The difference is that, in this story - due to the foster system tossing him around from family to family and other things that I'll elaborate on as we get into the thick of it - Dean missed a lot of his senior year and had to start over. I don't really talk about where this takes place exactly, but I do say that Roman is from Pensacola, FL; that's just about the only actual place that will be mentioned, probably. Otherwise, you can decide whether or not this takes place in Cincinnati or Las Vegas or wherever. Use your imaginations!

I'd like to thank smilingambrose on Tumblr for encouraging me to 'take a chance'. Welp - here it is, my almost-laughable attempt.

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. I don't own the actual people behind the characters nor do I claim to own anything affiliated with them. I do hope to, one day, own respective merch of both Dean and Roman, since I love them so dang much.

Here. We. Go!

Prologue

You always start off with the same thought going through your head: 'Things will definitely be better now'. You smile, excited for your fresh start, a false sense of invincibility because YOU were granted a second chance.

Second chance ... heh. Try eighth or ninth chance.

I lost my invincibility card around the fourth time social services picked me up - from a hospital, can you believe that? Bull crap.

So. Many. Foster homes, and none of 'em were right - almost every single one beat me to hell. The last one ended up with me in the hospital. The hand I was dealt was always against me, giving me more reasons to hate everything the world was, what I was. But I couldn't let it win even if the temptation always licked a trail up my neck and threatened to suck my soul out...

My respite house was always okay, though - the Helmsley's. The husband was some big-wig at some business and his wife stayed at home, but there was no doubt ever that she ran the show.

Everything had been totally fine... until they adopted a kid that turned everything around in the worst possible way, practically taking the food off my plate and hogging the affection and care, leaving me alone again.

After a while, I had to put what little money away I could, y'know, for food and stuff because only the favorites got to eat. Essentially, sort of. I got very little, to the point where sometimes I'd take snacks and stuff from the school cafeteria just so I could have food for later. The more they doted on that one kid the less likely it seemed I'd be making it to the end of the school year.

Then ... my last foster family showed up. The son of the wealthiest man in the country who didn't want anything to do with his corrupt family: Shane McMahon. It was just him and one other kid, Sami, and wouldn't you know it? He picked me. He and Sami stopped by after an ... 'incident' ... between me and that other kid and saw that I could barely see through my bloody bangs and he immediately told me to get my shit and meet him outside.

Two years I stayed with him and Sami in his house. Our house.

I had a home.

Didn't stop me, though, from screwing around - eventually, I got mixed up with the wrong people, got into fights and there was some ...drinking, some other vices in there, somewhere, I'unno. My grades were crap. My relationships were crap.

Found out I was into dudes though, so ... that was a thing. Gave kids more of a reason to beat the crap outta me.

Almost got expelled once.

...

Twice.

Almost got expelled twice.

Things eventually got better, though. After a shitty life of abuse and hospital visits, things turned around.

All after Roman Reigns moved to town.

Chapter One

Dean Ambrose's morning routines usually started with an angry slam of his fist atop a new alarm clock and many, many cusses under his breath. When you say the words 'morning person', the person you'd usually use as an example was his foster brother, Sami, all smiles and big eyes and borderline hyper. Hell, who bounces around the house at 6:30 in the morning, anyway?

Dean was the opposite, with low growls and droopy eyes and messy hair.

Luckily, it was Friday morning, the last day of a shitty week.

"Come on, Dean, time to get up!" he heard Shane MacMahon call with a few rasps of his knuckles on his closed door. "Unless you expect to walk an hour to school again!"

That got his attention, blue eyes slowly opening and immediately regretting it when he stared directly out his window at the bright sunlight. "Fuuuuuck," he groaned, peeling himself out of his covers and padding over to his dresser to grab today's choice of clothing: a pair of jeans and a black tank top. It took him less time to change than it did to get out of bed, and all in all, he was glad he opted for showering the night before - everyone in their damn house decided to shower this morning.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair to tame the light brown locks that insisted on giving him the worst bedhead known to man; Sami insists on him cutting it short for summer, but the fact of the matter was, at its current length he could hide behind a veil, look at something else without being caught. A last line of defense, maybe, or something he couldn't quite place.

Before he made his descent to the kitchen to join his foster father and brother, he picked up his leather jacket hanging on the doorknob and watches himself in the mirror on the back as he slips his arms into the sleeves - his arms were large with muscle and riddled with scars long-healed, at least on the surface, but he didn't like to show much skin, much evidence of his past. Years of fighting, surviving, hardened your resolve as well as your muscles.

It also helps that his part-time job involves lifting heavy pallets of material at a factory on the edge of town.

Opening his bedroom door without bothering to make his bed or even pick up his dirty clothes - there was always after school, he reasoned - he walks down the hallway and down the stairs, still half asleep, but with the full expectation of being bombarded with the ever-happy person that was Sami.

"About time you woke up!" the other lad spoke around a mouthful of eggs on toast. Dean slid into one of the stools at the island, fixing his brother with a disgusted look before Shane dropped a plate in front of him with as much the same food, a glass of orange juice beside it. A quiet noise of gratitude rumbled in the young man's throat before he picked up a fork and dug it into a good sized piece of egg.

Chewing and swallowing, he bites out, "Not my fault I had to study for a shitty test."

"You studied."

Nodding his head, Dean taps his fingers against his collar bone - a tick he developed as a kid that never went away. The alternative to biting nails, though it'd be a lie if he were to deny he did that, too. "Don't wanna fail another year. I'm already a year behind. Wanna graduate."

Sami relented, giving his brother a good-natured pat on the arm before wolfing down the rest of his breakfast. "Done." Getting up and bringing his plate over to the sink, he leans over the counter, talking in a hushed tone.

"Hey, uh- just wanted to let you know. Kevin's gonna be coming over tomorrow."

Kevin Owens - practically wrote the book on being an asshole. Unfortunately, he was Sami's best friend, and while he wouldn't admit it aloud, he loved his brother. For him, he tried to be civil, but ... Kevin brought out the worst in Dean, antagonizing him. They butted heads constantly; once, Dean almost punched his brother when he tried to interfere and stop them, and Dean does not have a soft punch.

"Why." Fuuuuuuuck.

Sami shifted from foot to foot. "We're going camping this weekend, with next week being Spring Break and all. He wanted to go over what we needed to get, so I just invited him over. You're not mad, right?"

You fuckin' bet I'm mad! You little weasel! You mother f- "No, I have to work anyway."

"Sure?"

"Yep."

"Okay," Sami said, feeling better slightly. "Okay. Before we go, I'll stop by the factory to say hi?"

"Fine," Dean bit out, now tense.

A look of dejection crossed Sami's eyes, but before he could make things better, Shane came in, swinging his car keys around his finger.

"Let's go!"

One after the other, Sami and Dean filed out of the house, Sami with his checkerboard backpack and Dean with his black one. Since the other male had opted for pissing off Dean, he chose to sit in the back, giving Dean the front seat of Shane's white SUV. Not that the former minded.

The minute they got to the school, Sami and Dean immediately went their separate ways - the former ran to his track buddies, waving in all his excited glory, talking animatedly about his plans for the upcoming break and asking his friends what their plans were. Dean walked past, offering a curt nod as Sami gave his goodbye in the form of a large wave.

His locker was on the second story of the school, and the staircase was in a little room off the hallway. There was no way he could avoid anybody, no way he could stay out of sight. Ducking his head and fixing his backpack, the light-haired boy made himself look as small as possible as he stayed as far off to the side as he could without bumping into anybody.

A shoulder slammed into his. He curses but keeps trudging, knowing he can get there as soon as... he...

Fuck.

"Yo, Dean," a boy with dark hair and a patch of blond gives him a malicious smile, immediately putting him on edge. "No matter how invisible you think you are, you can't hide your punk-ass from me."

"Talk a lot of shit, for somebody who 'lets me' kick their ass whenever you run your mouth," Dean's gravelly voice turns into a growl, a malicious glint in his blue eyes.

"Ha! You think you're tough shit?" Cracking his knuckles as if to accentuate what he had planned for the brutish boy, Dean slings his backpack jerkily onto the ground, standing ready. "You're just a fuckin' lunatic. Don't think I haven't forgotten the day you attacked me, putting me in casts for almost two months."

His lips turn into a lopsided line, fingers twitching as he suddenly itches to tug on that stupid blond patch.

Seth Rollins was the kid that his respite family had adopted, had punched and kicked and screamed and cried when things didn't go his way, when he didn't succeed in manipulating the people around him. He'd made it a point to only stay on Dean's heels, to go out of his way to rub in how spoiled he was, how popular and how tough he thought he was. All in all, having Seth as his 'bully' was sort of exhausting, and...

He was too tired for this right now - he didn't have anything to drive his fists yet, the day had just started. It didn't stop him from being on the defensive, shrugging off his jacket to flash off the large bulges of muscle he had for biceps.

Was Seth sweating now?

Oh, he was totally sweating now.

Footsteps stopped behind him, and Seth draws his eyes away to flash a grin at whoever was behind Dean. Immediately, Dean slowly slides his head to look over his shoulder, keeping Seth in his peripheral vision to the best of his ability before he catches a long, large tan arm with a tattoo running down it. Hands lax, not looking to attack him from behind, just waiting to see what would happen.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Seth, what are you doing?"

Dean's eyes fell back upon Seth, eyebrow raised, before he picked up his jacket and backpack simultaneously. "I'm going now."

Their voices fade away as Dean moves up the stairs and disappears down the next hallway, not seeing the pair of gray eyes that followed him.

If you have any comments, complaints, requests or questions, don't hesitate to PM or review!

(You can also tell me on Tumblr at cookiethewriter. :D)

~Cookie