It's a week later, when the end of September is nearing and every store is drowning in Halloween decorations, that Dean meets Roman Reigns.
Dean creeps into the locker room the morning of a taping, pretty sure there'll be no one around since the taping isn't until the evening, and proceeds to break into Seth's locker.
He picks the lock, and it's a lot easier to than he expects. He swings open the door, studying what Seth's got in there.
It's not much; a handful of band shirts, a few extra pairs of wrestling trunks, and an extra set of kneepads and elbow pads. But, after rummaging through the stack of band shirts, Dean finds what he's looking for: Seth's precious medal, hidden between two of the shirts.
He smirks and pockets it, unable to believe that Seth was stupid enough to leave it in his locker when it seemed so important to him.
"What are you doing?"
Dean freezes momentarily, until he realizes that the voice he hears behind him is neither Seth's voice nor the general manager's voice, so he's in the clear.
"What's it to ya?" Dean answers, continuing to rummage through Seth's things, wondering what else he can find hidden in the locker.
"Nothin', I guess. I was just wonderin'… cause I know that ain't your locker, and I know that ain't your medal."
Dean stops and checks the pocket of his jeans, only to find that he'd only hastily stuffed the medal in his pocket, so its band is sticking out above the top of it. He frowns down at it, trying to shove the offending piece of material down, so no one else will see it. Because how the hell is he gonna get out of here with Seth's medal if everyone else can see it?
He shuts the door, spins around on his heels, and points an accusing finger at the guy standing behind him. "If you tell Seth, I'm coming after you. Personally. 'N not in a good way." The guy chuckles, holds his hands up in a mock sign of surrender.
"Don't worry, I won't tell him. Hardly know him, anyway."
"Good." Dean doesn't really trust the guy not to tell Seth, but he'll take it for now. There'll be plenty of opportunities to come after him later, if necessary.
He squints at the guy, tapping his index finger on his chin. "Don't I know you?"
"I don't know, do you?" That's significantly unhelpful, Dean thinks.
Just like him. Maybe he could grow to like this guy.
He thinks for a while, knowing the guy's name is on the tip of his tongue, but unable to locate it. The guy just smiles at him, not attempting to help at all. What a dick.
But Dean doesn't really mind.
Finally, it comes to him. "You're… you're Leakee, right?"
The guy nods, leaning back against the lockers opposite from Dean. "Yeah, that's what I go by in the ring. But you can call me Roman."
"Roman…?"
"Reigns."
"Roman Reigns, huh? That your real name?"
"Yeah."
Dean grins, unable to help himself. "'S a hell of a name. How come you go by Leakee in the ring, then?"
The guy—Roman, Dean mentally corrects himself—shrugs. "Dunno. Just wanted somethin' different, I guess."
"Makes sense. Y'know, I used to go by Jon Moxley in the ring," he says.
"So I've heard." Dean frowns; what the hell is that supposed to mean?
"What, ya been hearin' things about me?"
Roman sighs, glances over his shoulder like he's afraid someone's listening in. "You're Dean, right?"
"Yeah. Dean Ambrose. Don't wear it out."
"Almost the entire roster… tends to talk about you when you ain't around." Roman sounds hesitant, like he shouldn't even be telling Dean this. But Dean's glad he is.
"What're they sayin'?"
"Just rumors. Not good ones. They say shit like you're actually insane."
Dean grins mockingly. "Maybe I am actually insane. You'll never know, Roman."
In response, Roman holds his hands up again in that mock sign of surrender. "Never said you were, never said you weren't. Just tellin' you what I heard."
"Well, that's nice. But really, I couldn't fuckin' care less." People had been making up rumors about him since he was in junior high; he'd grown basically numb to it by now.
Roman just nods, his eyes studying Dean, his face entirely unreadable (much to Dean's displeasure).
"See ya, Rome. And remember… if I find out you told lil' Sethie about what happened here today… I'll kick your ass."
Dean walks out of the locker room and heads for the exit, thinking that telling Roman 'I'll kick your ass' was a much weaker threat than what he'd been going for.
He hopes it'll shut Roman up, either way.
That evening, Dean finds out that Bo Rotundo's been injured, which means the Florida Heavyweight Championship has to be vacated.
He also finds out that, to find the next Florida Heavyweight Champion, there's going to be a Super Eight Tournament, with eight wrestlers invited to join the tournament.
Dean joins, obviously. He knows he can win the damn thing, and when he does, he's gonna rub the belt in Seth's face.
Maybe literally.
Dean's not surprised to hear that Seth and Roman join as well; he just wonders if maybe his match will be against Roman.
Nah, not gonna happen, he thinks. They'll probably pit him against Seth again, since everyone seems to love their matches so much. Dean will be happy to kick Seth's ass once and for all, so it doesn't bother him.
Of course, the general manager asks for each of the eight wrestlers who join the tournament to come out when she's announcing the creation of the tournament, like they're show dogs.
It doesn't really bother him, though; he figures he'll have another chance to bother Seth. He's got a few extra tricks up his sleeve this time, too. He honestly can't wait to see what Seth will do.
He'd heard Seth had been looking around for his medal, thinking he'd misplaced it, but Seth hadn't asked Dean, and no one had pointed any fingers at him yet, even Roman.
But there's no way in hell Dean's gonna tell Seth what happened to his medal. Besides, he must be pretty fuckin' stupid to not realize he'd stolen it, Dean thinks.
He finds himself thinking about how excessively dumb Seth is as he waits backstage, leaning against the wall, tapping his toe impatiently against the tile floor. All of the eight wrestlers who chose to join the tournament are lined up, waiting to be announced. Dean saw Seth briefly at the front of the line (wanting the spotlight as usual, apparently), and Roman at the middle of the line. Dean, however, chose to be the last announced, wanting to be the surprise everyone had to wait on, so that's where he finds himself now, at the back of the line, essentially alone with his thoughts.
He straightens himself when he realizes they've started announcing each wrestler, not wanting to miss his cue and look like a dumbass.
The announcements go faster than he expected, so he's more than happy to come out last, giving the camera a mocking grin as he heads towards the ring. The general manager is standing in the center of the ring, with the rest of the wrestlers sort of clustered around her. Dean decides to do something different and sidles up along Roman, sliding an arm around his waist. That catches Seth's attention, and Dean smirks as he openly stares at the two of them.
"All of these men you see here will be competing in the Super Eight Tournament," Dean hears the general manager say. "Our first match in the tournament will be right here, right now, and it will be Leakee versus Damien Sandow. Everyone else, please leave the ring."
Dean's a little disappointed he doesn't get to have a match against Roman (at least, not yet), but his disappointment doesn't last long. He moves his arm from around Roman's waist, grabs the waistband of his own wrestling trunks with his thumb and forefinger, and pulls Seth's precious medal from where he'd hidden it in his trunks. He smirks at Seth, who is gaping openly at him, a mixture of confusion and anger on his face.
He brings the medal to his lips, kisses it, and then turns back to Roman. Roman is staring at him, but his face remains unreadable (Dean fucking hates how easy it apparently is for Roman to hide his emotions). Dean leans in closer, bringing his lips close to Roman's ear to whisper in it, purposely placing a hand on Roman's abdomen as he speaks.
"Good luck," Dean murmurs, placing the medal around Roman's neck before he can stop him. He looks directly at Roman as he pulls away, and somehow, Roman still appears to be unfazed.
Dean turns and walks away, heading out of the ring. Seth is still gaping at him, his face apparently unable to settle on either confusion or anger.
"Better close your mouth, Sethie, you're gonna catch flies," Dean says nonchalantly as he brushes past him and heads backstage.
For all Roman seemed unfazed, Dean's actions must've gotten to him, because Dean hears, in a whisper spread across the locker room and not intended for him to hear, that Roman loses the match.
Dean wonders if it would be that easy to throw Seth off his game, too.
