September 20, 2015: Houston, TX.

Claire slowly woke to the sound of her alarm. The happy jingle played throughout the room as she slipped out of bed to retrieve it. She stepped over the discarded clothes, the haphazardly packed suitcase, and the thrown about shoes as quietly as she could. It was like walking through a disaster area whenever she was in Dean's room. Then again, she often kept her room immaculate, which hardly made the comparison fair. She didn't have to carry as much as the talent did. Her phone fished out of her purse and the alarm was turned off quickly, Claire checked the time. It was early in the morning. A little too early, but the WWE had a pay-per-view later that day and Claire knew the event would be a big one.

At the sound of a sleepy groan, Claire looked over her shoulder in time to watch Dean shift and stretch along the bed. His slept on his stomach, his head buried beneath a pillow. The blanket was slung dangerously low on his hips, which Claire certainly didn't complain about. She moved back to the bed and set her phone down on the nightstand beside it. Claire crawled back into the sheets and moved to his side. Her eyes were drawn to the large scar along his back and right arm. Hand raised, she lightly brushed her fingers along the old wound. The injury had come about during a particularly violent match before Dean came to the WWE. She had heard stories of deathmatches over the years. Tales of barbed wire and hand saws that sliced through skin. Having only watched the current product, Claire couldn't imagine watching a match like that, much less participating in one.

Dean grunted at the feeling of her hand along his back, shifted on the bed until he laid at his side. Claire smiled as she pushed the pillow from his face. His light brown hair was a serious case of bed head and struck out in every direction. Claire knew she couldn't judge though, knowing her own hair would be just as untidy. Sleepy eyes opened slightly as he looked up at Claire. There was no good morning, no witty banter. Instead, Dean wrapped an arm around Claire's waist and pulled her close. Her body followed his as he rolled onto his back. Claire pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed until she sat up, her knees planted at both sides of his hips.

One arm tucked behind his head, Dean looked up at her, a lazy smile on his lips. His eyes moved over her. From her messy ponytail down to the over-sized muscle tee, which had the familiar DA trademark on the front. His shirt, which she most likely threw on at random when she reached for something to put on in the middle of the night. His free hand ran along her leg, drew patterns against the soft skin there. Yeah, there was no beating a sight like this in the morning.

"I probably should go soon," she finally spoke, "We have a few hours to get ready before we need to get to the arena." And just like that, Claire shattered the moment with work talk. Dean groaned, reached out for the pillow once more. He would have succeeded in throwing it over his face if Claire hadn't pried it from his hand with a laugh. "Just stating the obvious. No need to go back to sleep, you big baby."

"You're so mean to me," Dean teasingly grumbled, "I've been nothing but nice to you since the moment we've met."

"That is a bald-faced lie, Dean Ambrose," Claire laughed, "And you know it."

"You calling me a liar?"

"Absolutely," she told him, "You were a jerk to me on several occasions."

"I don't think you remember those moments right," Dean refused to concede, despite the fact that he knew he was a cocky son of a bitch the past few years.

Dean fisted the fabric of Claire's shirt with his hands and pulled her closer to him. Claire felt how much Dean wanted her right then and there. Quite literally, considering she was pressed up against him. His palms slid beneath the shirt and caressed her back as she leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was playful and definitely not long enough for Dean's taste. Claire pulled back quickly, much to his protest. Her forearms came to rest against Dean's chest as she got comfortable.

"I have a suggestion," Claire slowly said, "I stay for a little longer… if you can prove me wrong by showing me now nice you can be."

Dimples winked as Dean smiled up at her.

"Deal."


September 15, 2013: Detroit, MI. Night of Champions.

Soaked with sweat, Dean swaggered backstage. He'd stay close to the entrance, knew that his brothers were out there for their own title matches. The Shield would crush tonight, as they did since the moment they debuted. He moved towards the nearest monitor, spotted the familiar flash of red hair as he did. He had seen enough of her in developmental, but Claire Peltier was a rare sight on main roster shows.

"You better take a good look at what a real champion looks like," he cockily said, "'Cause you won't see nobody like me down in Florida."

Claire sighed as Dean sauntered up to her, took his place beside her as they watched the tag match unfold. She had spent her time between Florida and shows on the main roster. It was a change. She was mostly used to developmental shows. However, with bigger shows and PPVs, the company would call on a few extra hands and there was no one more dependable than Claire. So she would catch a flight out, help set up the ring and prepare locker rooms. It was good work that she enjoyed. At least until Dean Ambrose appeared, that is. The men of Shield had spent weeks appearing on NXT, sharing their special brand of justice with both the main roster and those in developmental. She had spent the past few weeks checking on talent after they were taken out by the Shield or breaking up fights the three men started backstage. The Shield dominated. She wouldn't deny that. She could respect that on some level. However, there was no ignoring the fact that the Shield were some of the biggest jerks around. Not that anyone working backstage would say it aloud.

"NXT has plenty of champions," she politely replied, "They're all talented in their own rights. Even those without titles are talented." The answer must not have been good enough for the United States champ as Claire saw Dean shrug off her words with a shake of his head. She sucked in a breath in frustration when Dean reached over and plucked her water bottle from her hand. "Humble too," Claire added. Her usual professionalism slipped slightly for a moment, irked by the sheer level of boldness.

"Humble don't win gold, sweetheart," Dean grinned as he patted the title on his shoulder, "Maybe once you'll realize that once you move up from that hole in Florida and travel with the big boys full-time."

"Those I work with are nice," Claire told him, "I like them and I'm fine where I am."

"For now," Dean told her, "You'll get bored setting up rings or filling buckets of bottled water in catering." Just because he could, Dean waved the bottle he stole from her in front of her face and laughed when she rolled her eyes. "'Fine' gets stale real quick, Red. Especially for an overachiever like you." He leaned in, met Claire's eye level. "When you get tired of those nice, humble developmental guys, feel free to come around the big show." Dean smirked as he gave Claire a quick once-over. "I'll be happy to change that 'fine' into something a whole lot better."

"I have a boyfriend," Claire said, "Even if I didn't I probably wouldn't take you up on your offer." The faint sound of a bell broke through and Claire turned to the monitor, saw that Roman and Seth won their match. "You should probably go celebrate with your friends," she told him, "Have yourself a nice night." Claire took a beat, motioned to the bottle in his hand. "Enjoy my drink, your win tonight, and your title… However long that lasts, of course." She had a small moment of pleasure when she was able to see Dean's smug wipe away. Claire plastered the sweetest smile she could muster as she turned to leave. "I meant the drink," she added, "Not your title reign."

She heard the huff of frustration, then the stomp of boots as Dean headed out in the opposite direction. Claire knew she shouldn't speak to the talent like that, but guys like Dean Ambrose deserved a kick to the ego sometimes. She shook her head as she turned the corner and brought her attention back to work. After that night, Claire would be back in Florida and working backstage at NXT. She'd try and enjoy when she got called in for help, but she couldn't imagine traveling full-time. Not with guys like the Shield roaming around. Even if she did travel with the main roster, there was no way she could ever picture herself working with those types of talents. The last thing anyone needed was to be associated with the men of Shield.

They were nothing but trouble at the end of the day.


September 20, 2015: Houston, TX. Night of Champions PPV.

There were several places in the arena that were deserted. Sections were taped off where the crew were able to stack crates, places where bins for lighting and electrical were placed. Dean often hung out in the secluded areas. He sought out the silence sometimes, as opposed to the locker rooms. The Shield often spent their nights in area like these, in places where no one else would think to travel to. Even after Seth's betrayal, Roman and Dean would often spend their down time sitting beneath large, metal racks. They'd shoot the shit as the show went on, avoid the backstage politics and general bullshit that came with the business. However, Dean used those areas for something completely different these days.

Claire smiled up at him as she leaned against one of the crates. Her hand lightly played with the zipper of Dean's leather jacket as he bent forward to place his palms against the crate behind her. He was excited for his match with Roman against the Wyatt family that night, knew they made a good call for their third member. Dean knew he would find Roman when it was time, but he wanted a little moment before then. Dean brushed his lips against Claire's neck, grinned against her skin as she moved to wrap her arms around his waist. They had gotten past the small setback a couple weeks back and managed to get back into the swing of things, but that didn't mean Claire was free to skip off in the middle of work for long periods of time. Dean sure loved to try and convince her to do so though. She would be a liar if she said he didn't succeed more than half the time.

"I have to go," Claire told him, "You have to go too." Dean shook his head in protest, buried his face into her neck as he did. She couldn't make out the words he said, but he had requested a few more minutes enough times that she knew he would say it again. Hands slid to his chest before Claire nudged him back. His hands moved to cup her cheeks as Claire stood on her tiptoes to drop a small kiss to his lips. "If you don't show, then Roman will come looking for you. If he comes looking for you, then-"

"He'll find me on my knees and this skirt of yours bunched up on your hips," Dean continued for her. He grinned as he saw Claire's cheeks turn red. It was pretty fucking adorable. There was something about throwing Claire off her guard that was fun. The proverbial tugging of her pigtails. Dean licked his lips as he dropped a hand down to her hip, dragged his fingertips along the curve of her ass. "That can always be later," he added, voice hungry as he spoke, "I can come down to your room after the show. Help you wind down..."

"You're killin' me, Smalls."

"Ain't nothing small about me, baby."

When Dean debuted in the company, he unnerved her. When the Shield emerged, he annoyed her. It wasn't until after the Shield that he began to endear himself to her, but now? Claire bit her bottom lip as she raised her head to look up at Dean. His blue eyes shone with excitement, but it was the growing haze of lust that caught her eye. Now she knew she was in trouble. It was the best kind of trouble though. Claire knew that more than anything. It was the kind of trouble that made her heart rate pick up speed. As intense as he could be at times, there was no denying that Dean had a wildness in him that pulled her in. There was a freedom there, a 'give no shit' attitude, that appealed to Claire over time.

Dean shook his head when Claire began to pull away, tugged her into his kiss one last time. He couldn't get enough. It was a little embarrassing how quickly he had come to need her touch. He craved the feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue when the kiss deepened. The feeling of her quickening breaths, the heat when his hands roamed along her body possessively. There was a line Dean learned to tread when it came with women. One that urged him to scratch the itch, curb the need, and then move on. He wasn't sure where that line was when it came to Claire anymore. It was dangerous territory, he knew that.

What was even more terrifying than that?

For Dean, it was not even knowing when she began to have that effect on him.


September 21, 2014: Nashville, TN. Night of Champions PPV.

"You can tell that son of a bitch Seth Rollins that his ass is mine! There ain't no place on this damn Earth he can run to where I won't find him!"

Dean was carried kicking and screaming through the backstage area. Sure, he crashed the show and beat Seth Rollins up and down the arena, but what part of that wasn't okay? The golden boy had that one coming to him. Regardless of whether it was justified or not, security was in the Authority's pocket. It had been a while since someone cuffed and hauled him out of a building. He couldn't exactly say he missed the sensation. At least this time around the cuffs were zip ties instead of cold steel. He thrashed against those carrying him with such determination that he almost didn't notice the security team drop his feet to the ground and release him. His mind was on autopilot and instincts urged him to turn around and seek out Seth again. Dean turned to do just that, but found security rally together at the sight of his second wind.

"Hold on," a voice broke through, "This man works for the company." Claire, as tiny as she was compared to those around her, wedged between Dean and the security team. She looked at the situation, nudged Dean slightly to glance at the hands that were tied behind his back. "These cuffs aren't necessary. Yes, he went a little too far tonight-"

"Too far my a-" Dean began to say.

"He's within his rights to be here," Claire spoke over his voice before he could finish that last word, "Cut him loose. He won't cause any trouble and he has a taxi waiting for him." She motioned towards the zip ties. "It'll be in everyone's best interest if we just consider this whole thing square and go back to the show."

She wanted him to cooperate, diffuse the situation. Dean knew that was her endgame. One security guard moved, came around to cut him free from the tie. The snap of freedom came and Dean considered charging through the group and finishing what he started. However, Claire looked up at him, eyebrow raised as if she knew the idea flew through his mind. Dean looked from her to the small security team, motioned for them to scurry off. He watched as Claire flashed the group a smile, thanked them as they dispersed. When they were left alone, he heard her let out a small huff of breath, as if she couldn't believe that worked. He watched as she turned her full attention to him, hands planted on her hips.

"Was it worth it?" she asked him.

"Absolutely," Dean grinned. Wearing cuffs for a minute after whooping Seth's ass? That was a no-brainer. He caught the small curve in her lips at his reply. "You thought it was worth it too."

"I said no such thing," Claire told him.

"C'mon," Dean laughed, "I didn't see his face when I rolled up, but it had to be worth it." Dean watched as Claire shook her head, the smile growing as she did. Yeah, she totally thought so, even if she was too much of a professional to play favorites. "Admit it."

"He was certainly surprised," Claire conceded, "That's all I'm going to say on the subject." Dean followed as Claire led him back towards the parking area. As she said, the taxi from earlier was there, as was the driver he skipped pay on. "I took care of your ride here," she added, "But you're on your own heading out." Motioning towards the driver in the front seat, Claire gave Dean a playful warning. "Remember to pay the man this time, okay?"

"Gotta pay you back too," Dean replied, "For paying for the ride and stuff." Claire watched as he opened the door to the backseat. He leaned against the door slightly as he turned to look at her. "We can grab a burger or something after the show, if you want."

The offer had clearly thrown Claire off. They had never really been overtly friendly at work. Mostly because they never really considered each other friendly in general. In fact, Dean had been far too comfortable being a thorn in her side than a friend over the years. She was more than happy only interacting with him and the other Shield members when necessary. Dean watched as she took a moment to respond.

"That's really nice of you," Claire finally said, "But it's not necessary."

"You got something against food in general or just burgers?" Dean teased.

"Burgers are great," she replied, "But I don't think it'll be a good idea to grab a bite with you… or any other talent really." At the faint look of confusion, Claire explained further. "I have a boyfriend or, well..." She raised her left hand slightly, motioned to the small ring that was on her finger. "Fiancé." The awkward beat was not lost on the both of them. "It's not that he would get jealous," she tried to explain, "He's weirdly trusting like that, but I-"

"No, it's cool," Dean chuckled as he stopped her, "I get it." He watched as Claire visibly relaxed. "Congrats on that whole deal, by the way." Dean motioned slightly towards the ring. "I must've been out longer than I thought. I didn't hear about it."

"We're not really going around and telling everyone," Claire said, "It was pretty recent." She smiled at Dean, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm not even completely used to it yet."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Dean told her. He really had no idea if she would. Rings and commitment weren't his thing. "I caught his match a couple weeks back. He's good."

"He is. He's really good."

Dean watched as Claire's face softened at the words, her smile aimed downward as she looked at her ring. There was a level of pride in her voice when she spoke. It was different than the tone she used when she talked to others backstage. Any guy would be lucky to be spoken about like that. Dean wasn't that kind of guy though. He moved to slip into the cab and rolled down the window to speak to her after he did.

"Thanks for paying off my cab," he finally said.

"Think of it as a welcome back," Claire smiled, "Try not to cause any trouble, okay?"

"I can't promise that," Dean grinned.

"Well, trouble or not," Claire laughed, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean watched as Claire turned, made her way off to continue the show. He studied her for a moment until she disappeared around the corner. It was strange. Those past few minutes might have been the longest he and Claire interacted without an issue between them.

He couldn't really say he hated it either.


September 20, 2015: Houston, TX. Night of Champions PPV.

The main event was well underway and most backstage had crowded around monitors to watch Seth go toe-to-toe with Sting. That made it easy enough for Claire to slip into Roman and Dean's locker room undetected. She resisted the urge to pick up after the two men as she stepped around the suitcases and discarded towels. Dean turned at the sound of her entrance, a towel slung over his shoulder. He was freshly showered and had just slipped into a new pair of jeans. Claire looked cautiously towards the shower and restroom, but Dean shook his head.

"Roman's out," Dean told her, "He had a call, needed some privacy."

"How're you two doing?" Claire asked. She slowed to a stop next to Dean, her attention on his suitcase. "After the match and what happened with Jericho…"

"It is what it is," Dean replied. He watched as Claire poked around his luggage, smiled when she plucked a black t-shirt from the stack. Not like there were many options in there. He pretty much wore the same shirt and jeans combo every day. Claire tugged the towel off of his shoulder and replaced it with his shirt. "We still got Wyatt problems. I guess it's back to the drawing board."

"Well," Claire said, "I think you did great tonight."

"We lost," Dean pointed out.

"And tomorrow's another day," she replied, "I think you and Roman are due for a little luck too."

Dean knew that kind of optimism was lost on him, but it seemed as though she had enough for the both of them and Roman. It was the kind of optimism that snuck up on him, threw him off guard. Shirt forgotten, he reached out to wrap an arm around Claire's waist. He hauled her against him and enjoyed the way her arms automatically moved to drape over his shoulders. Dean leaned down slightly, touched his forehead to hers. The embrace was something Claire seemed so comfortable with, but one that Dean rarely encountered. It was an act of intimacy without sex. Eyes closed, he let himself enjoy the moment.

"Oh shit."

For however long it lasted, of course.

Claire and Dean broke away at the sound of another's voice.

Phone in hand, Roman stood by the locker room door.


AN: And here we finally have someone find out! Of course it had to be Roman. It would be wrong if it was anyone but Roman finding out first. LOL! Also a first: flashbacks! I wanted to play with time in this chapter. It helped a lot that there were moments I could write from past NIGHT OF CHAMPIONS with Dean. I also wanted to show how different Dean was in the past (his Shield self, how he was outside of the Shield) and also how Dean and Claire's relationship was then compared to now. I hope you guys like it, because there might be more in later chapters. Maybe even how Claire reacted to Dean's wild self in FCW? Or how Dean and Claire got together? Anyway, I wanted to say thanks to all those leaving kudos or comments (here and on AO3). They make me smile and encourage me to finish chapters. You guys are awesome and I can't wait to go on this adventure with you!