So after spending an hour looking up actual houses for sale in Terre Haute, I came to the conclusion that the town has no mansions, and if it does, that they're not for sale.
So, I took inspiration for the outside layout of the property from an actual picturesque property I found for sale in Terre Haute, but the mansion itself, including its layout, is inspired by Champ d'Or, an actual, infamous mansion about an hour and a half from where I live that's just garish enough to work here. (Yes, it actually has three kitchens and two gold-plated elevators. Please do yourself a favor and Google it after you read the chapter.)
I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
When Seth quiets and calms down, Dean decides to take him outside. The property's massive, lying on a street not well-traveled, and even if there were people passing by, the two of them can't be seen unless they choose to be.
The sun's just starting to set as they walk down the long, winding driveway, and Dean smiles faintly at that, remembering a time many years ago when he'd driven Seth across the entire state just to get to the highest-elevated hill in Indiana, just to watch the sun set. Afterwards, Seth had kissed him deeply in thanks, and Dean had pulled him into the backseat and made him come undone under his hands.
A part of him still wished they could do that, but the closest they've ever come is lounging around by the dried out pool, watching the sun set through a thick forest of trees.
They stop by the gate, which, unfortunately for them, someone's closed (they haven't quite perfected the art of passing through solid objects yet). Dean peers at the For Sale sign just beyond the gate and realizes it's no longer there.
It's been replaced by a Sold sign.
"New bait," Dean murmurs lowly in Seth's ear. Seth looks up in interest, catching the new sign. He laughs, sounding delighted.
"That's the best part of this whole thing. Scaring the fuck out of people and seeing how long they can take it."
"What, eternity together doesn't sound good to you?"
Dean catches Seth's smile, but it's twisted with something bitter.
"You know that's all I ever wanted," Seth says quietly. "Just not like this."
"I know," Dean responds, gathering Seth in close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head again. "We were supposed to get married. Now that it's fuckin' legal, we can't even get to a fuckin' chapel."
"…We were supposed to get married?" Seth asks after a few moments of silence.
"Wasn't it obvious?" Dean asks, turning his head to inspect Seth. Seth shakes his head no, and Dean actually laughs in disbelief. "Fuck, man. Remember when we used to talk about running away? We were gonna drive to Los Angeles or somethin'. And I knew I was gonna make a pit stop, buy you a ring and get you a goddamn Vegas wedding. And then we'd get some convenience store cake or some shit. I think not bein' able to do that has been one of my biggest regrets about this whole thing."
Seth remains unusually quiet, and when Dean reaches out and tips his chin up, he finds that Seth's eyes are wet.
"Aw, c'mon, don't cry. When did you get so soft?" he teases. "Whatever happened to the 'prissy, rich asshole Seth Rollins' that I fell in love with?"
"He's stuck in '96," Seth mumbles, and Dean smiles and plants another kiss on Seth's forehead.
"Remember when we were two sixteen-year-old lovesick idiots?" Dean asks, shifting a little to murmur the question into Seth's hair. Seth nods before he speaks.
"We're technically still two sixteen-year-old lovesick idiots," he reminds Dean.
"That's true. It just feels like it's been fuckin' forever."
"Well, twenty years is a long time."
Dean hums his agreement, and they stand there wrapped up in each other and invisible to the rest of the world until the sun disappears below the horizon, before retreating back to the house that now more than ever feels like a prison.
It takes Roman two whole days just to get in town, what with his necessary food and sleep breaks, and the sun is starting to set on June 2 when his SUV rolls past the 'Terre Haute City Limit' sign. Even though the sign proclaims that the population is 60,000, this part of town feels more like a town of 10,000, with narrow streets, tiny houses, and small businesses galore.
It takes him an additional twenty minutes after he passes the 'City Limit' sign (he counts, just for lack of anything better to do) to find his new house. All he sees when he rolls up to the enormous gate is a curving driveway that disappears into the trees beyond, and no house in sight. He knows it's the right house, though, from the small, easy-to-miss keypad next to the fence. It looks decades old, and Roman's not even sure it'll work, but after he'd paid he'd received instructions to punch a four-digit PIN into the keypad to open the gate once he'd arrived.
He carefully inputs the code, 0531, into the keypad. He waits, hearing a soft click before the gate slowly swings open, creaking ominously the entire time. Roman feels odd for a brief moment, like he's gotten into something that maybe was a bad idea.
"Get over yourself, Reigns," he mutters to himself before he drives through the gate, creeping along the curving driveway, unsure of where it'll take him. He doesn't want to come to a sudden dropoff and end up unintentionally killing himself. In his opinion, thirty-one's too young to die. He's got so many more things left to do.
He's pulled from his thoughts when he realizes he can now see the curve of a rounded roof through the trees, and as he continues down the path, the mansion he's paid for reveals itself to him.
"Holy fucking shit," he says, the words falling from his lips on their own accord as he takes in the sight. It's fucking huge, a lot bigger than he'd imagined. The outside of it makes it look like it belongs on the cover of a magazine catered to rich people. It looks like what rich executives would use to throw house parties with tons of people they didn't really know and lots of expensive champagne and fancy finger foods nobody really ate.
There's a car parked in front, just by the steps that lead up to the archway that leads to the front door, and it startles him for a moment until he realizes it's probably just the owners. They'd specifically requested they meet with him to finalize the decision, show him the house and make sure it's what he wants.
Looking at it, as long as the listing was actually $50,000 and not $50,000,000, he's pretty damn sure it's what he wants.
He pales slightly when he checks the dashboard clock and realizes he's probably kept them waiting long enough. They'd told him they left a key under the welcome mat, and so he parks next to the other car, hurriedly tries to make himself look presentable (even trying to tame down his wild mane of hair and failing miserably), then gets out of his car and heads for the front door.
"So the house has six bedrooms, six full bathrooms, and eight powder rooms."
What the fuck is a powder room, Roman wants to ask, but he bites his tongue. The woman, Stephanie, in the couple he'd met in the foyer, introducing themselves as the owners, is currently giving him a tour of the place, and Roman thinks that unless the place was filthy, in disrepair, and filled with all kinds of vermin, it would never be worth merely $50,000.
But it looks pristine. He hasn't seen even a speck of dust. And he has yet to hear or see anything that would suggest any infestations.
"It's also got an exercise room, indoor and outdoor pool, outdoor tennis court, indoor racquetball court, indoor bowling alley, a theater, a very large wine cellar, and three kitchens."
Who the fuck needs three kitchens?
Roman makes a mental note to himself to invite his entire family over as soon as he gets settled in. Everyone. This house looks like it could comfortably fit at least ten sets of his entire family, extended and all, and his family tree is massive.
By the end of the tour, Roman feels a little winded, even though he's in great shape. The house is a whopping forty thousand square feet, and although Roman's pretty sure Stephanie and Hunter haven't shown him everything from the way Stephanie seems a little twitchy and rushed, he knows that if he can afford this house, he wants it.
It's got it all. Even two fucking gold-plated elevators.
Because apparently, when you get rich, all you can ever think is Hey, why not?
He's still wondering why the fuck anyone needs gold-plated elevators, but he'll take them.
"So," Stephanie says to Roman once they step back into the foyer where they'd started, smiling brightly, "do you have any questions about the home? Are you still interested?"
"I'm sure as he—er, I'm definitely still interested. I just have one question."
"Shoot," Hunter says.
"Are you sure you meant to sell this for fifty thousand? I'm sure it could sell for fifty million, easily."
"There was—" Stephanie starts, and Roman notes how her bright smile falters and she looks a little anguished, but Hunter speaks over her.
"Steph," he says, giving her a look that Roman interprets as be quiet. "We're just looking to get rid of it. You see, my parents built this house in the '60s. It's been in our family ever since, but starting in 1997, we decided it was what we no longer wanted. We started renting it to people, but they've never stayed very long. That's understandable; it can be quite hard to maintain such a large property, or afford the taxes on it. But now, we're looking to permanently relocate, and we need to sell this to help fund our relocation."
"So… you're pricing it at fifty grand because you're desperate to get rid of it?"
Hunter smiles, but it looks oddly out of place on his face, as if there's something hidden behind it. "You can put it that way, if you'd like."
"Well, then I'd definitely like to purchase it," Roman says. It feels right; even more right than when he'd accepted his full-ride scholarship to Georgia Tech.
"Wonderful," Stephanie says, and she smiles at him again, but Roman's always been good at reading people, and this smile doesn't quite meet her eyes.
