What a Wonderful World

Everything was… was dark. She couldn't really peel open her eyelids at first, but there was the soft humming of music that sounded like it was muffled, like through a wall, and her head was pounding. What had Stephanie put into her drink?

"Y'now, I have to say… you're not really what I expected."

That voice was closer than the music and Meredith moaned, pushed herself back to the wall. When she managed to glance around the dark room, a man with two colours in his hair was standing at the door. It was closed, almost like he was guarding it, but his eyes were soft and there was a grin playing at his lips that almost made Meredith feel like she was safe.

"I mean, Dean— well, he doesn't really have a particular taste, but… he likes blondes more. Usually, I mean. Dark hair is more my thing. But you're attractive, so, I get it."

The words were falling out of his mouth almost like he just wanted to fill the silence with it. Had he been talking when she was out?

"Who are you?" When she spoke, her voice sounded like nails grating along a chalkboard.

"Seth Rollins."

Seth Rollins. She'd heard that name before, but her head was still spinning and she felt like she was underwater.

But he kept going. "Ambrose doesn't talk a lot about anything at all, so I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't mention me, but— a long time ago, we were friends. Brothers, you could say. There was, uh— there was Roman, as well. But he betrayed us. Chose to work with the movement, work against us."

Was he… was he trying to get a different point across with what he was saying?

Meredith stared across at him and watched the glint in his eye, the curve of his lips. He was being subtle. Because she remembered, remembered that he was a double agent, remembered that him and Dean and Roman were still brothers but were playing an extremely dangerous game. Seth was warning her. Telling her not to say anything that would compromise him.

The woman cleared her throat. "What do you want from me?"

"Didn't Stephanie mention something?" He asked slowly. "Dean won. Against Orton— the viper, or whatever he calls himself, he didn't get back up before the count. Just like Hunter guess. So they're celebrating his win tonight by throwing a party at the joint that Del Rio owns."

Del Rio?

As Seth watched her, his mood changed. The man became cautious almost, like he was cornering a scared animal, and he walked forwards slowly to crouch in front of her. "Listen to me," he said, "you do what they tell you, okay? You wanna live? You do exactly what they tell you to do. Dean is going out of his mind because the last time he saw you, you collapsed. He will ruin this all if you do something stupid and they hurt you, you hear me? So you do what they want when they want it." His voice was nothing more than a whisper when he finished, but he may as well have been yelling the words at her.

And she just nodded because she understood. Whatever they were working towards and whatever they were planning, she wouldn't ruin it. She couldn't be the reason that everything went to hell.

"What do I do?" Meredith murmured back at him.

The smile on his face was reassuring, at least. "We'll take you to Foxy and get you done up for the evening. Stephanie mentioned something about you singing? I need a couple of songs so they can get arrangements done, if that's okay."

And, okay— it seemed that Stephanie McMahon had been completely serious with her. She was singing. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought but she still listed off a few songs and hoped that the gentle nature would be enough to please whoever it was she was supposed to be making happy.

When Seth managed to get Meredith out of the room she'd been in and half carry her to another a little further down the hall, the woman waiting was… something else.

"Honey, I have two rules. Don't tell me your name, don't try and be my friend," her voice was husky, like at some point she'd been a smoker, and her skin was beautifully dark, hair that curled at all angles. "There's some water on the table. Drink it, have the pain killers 'cause it'll help with your headache. Oh, take off your clothes while you're at it."

—

Dean had never felt so useless in his entire life.

He'd seen Meredith walk in with clothes that made his blood boil in more ways than one and all he wanted to do was burn this Goddamned building to the ground and get her and get out.

Del Rio's burlesque bar wasn't horrible… but it was owned and managed by Del Rio, so by association, it was horrible.

The Mexican owner had walked up to Meredith straight away and took her hand between his, brought it to his lips as he introduced himself with "hope your day has been as nice as your ass is, señorita," mouth curving like a predator around the last word as he gazed at her. Dean had bared his teeth and sucked in a long drag from the cigar hanging from his fingertips. That sleazy fucker.

Even though the night was for him, it was more for Stephanie and Hunter— for their investors, for the people who paid them good money to stay on top. If the power couple wanted to, they could have easily killed all of the investors and taken their money anyway. But they needed all the supporters they could get.

"Another one?"

Dean gazed over his shoulder at the British woman co-running the bar. Her hair was mostly black, some tinting at the ends that shone blue in the light. She looked young. But the makeup around her eyes was dark and she could have been eighteen or twenty-eight.

The drink in his hand was straight bourbon and it burned going down the back of his throat, but he wasn't even close to getting another one. Slate blue's stared at the woman across from him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

His eyes trailed after her as she zipped around the bar. A bottle here, a bottle there, a quick but hefty shake.

The woman slid the finished drink across to him and placed a crumpled looking napkin on the table. "Compliments from the man sitting left of the stage," she said. Then, more quietly, "don't open that until you're sure no one is watching."

She walked away then and Dean had to steal himself from snatching at the napkin straight away. Who— who had— he looked towards the stage and of course, sitting there, staring across at him with a slight tug at the corner of his mouth, sneaky glint in his eyes, sat Seth Rollins. Of course. The only person stupid enough to do something like send a secret message in a place filled with people who would beat them both half to death if they knew the truth. A grin pulled at Dean's own lips. For a moment, he forgot all about the problems weighing at the back of his mind and his mind was back to the days where Hunter had initially saved them, the days where Roman and Seth and Dean's only form of communication had been through subtle little messages here and there. The choice of a song, of a book, of food. They'd been sneaky fucks and had gotten away with it more times than not.

So Dean waited.

He stayed leaning against the bar with his eyes peeled for any sign of Meredith and the cigar hanging from his fingers, drink perched in the other hand.

But he didn't have to wait long, because soon enough, Meredith was being pushed onto the stage and the few people that joined her set up their instruments. A guitar, a violin, a piano, and a set of wooden boxes that a man was sitting on top of.

Glancing down at the napkin, he read the words. Once, twice. Three times. Then ripped it up and sunk it into the drink that Seth had ordered for him.

Stephanie McMahon was quick to get up on stage, microphone in hand. "I would like to thank you all for joining us here tonight," she spoke, "on this monumental occasion— because not only do we have the one and only, the unbeatable Dean Ambrose here… we also have this lovely woman that he's picked up on his travels who has quite the voice! Or so I've head," Stephanie glanced around nervously and laughed. And everyone laughed with her and Dean's stomach curled. "So, ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado, I give to you… Meredith Waters."

Red dress and curled hair, eyes more scared than anything else, Meredith stepped up to the microphone. She clasped the thing with both hands and gazed over her shoulder as if looking for a cue, and then nodded.

And when her voice rang out through the bar… no instruments, no additions, just the pure sound— Dean's skin crawled. If kittens smoked cigars and sang soul music, he thought, that's what it would sound like.

He felt transfixed as he watched her, couldn't take his eyes off of her even if he wanted to— which he didn't—, and just got lost in the words tumbling out of her mouth. He knew the song, an old Bill Withers classic that was hard to miss, and by the time she'd stopped, he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

The next song was much the same. Gritty, rough, but completely angelic.

And by the time she'd done five songs, Dean was well on his way to ripping her out of this place and driving to where ever her voice took him.

She was given a raucous applause by the people who had paid to get in, as well as by the people who had paid for an audience, and he pulled the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. His mouth formed an 'o', white smoke curling from his lips as his slate blue eyes stayed locked on her body, and then she was looking back at him.

Not even three seconds. He didn't last three seconds before he'd laid the drink on the table and stubbed what he had left in his hand, walking towards where Meredith had stilled.

There were people around her but he didn't even fucking care; his arms curved around her waist and he pushed his mouth against her ear as he commanded "dance with me." She wasn't saying no to him. And he had no reason to hide this, because Stephanie had made it clear that they were together.

It probably wasn't really even dance music, but the hazy atmosphere in the bar and the refined guitar plucking worked just fine for him.

Dean's hands were tight on her hips and she had one of hers twisted in the material of his shirt.

And his eyes, as he stared down at her, were both possessive and full of wonder.

"I could feel you staring at me the whole time," her voice was barely a whisper, but it was there.

His gaze didn't waver. "Hard not to."

Meredith turned her head at the sound of murmurs, frowned. "They're all staring," she almost mused out loud, "why are they all staring at us?"

"I don't dance."

He could see the unspoken 'sorry?' in her eyes.

"I don't dance," Dean said again. "I don't mingle, I don't talk to anyone. They're staring because I'm doing both with you."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No."

No. He relished the feel of her in his arms. Safe, where she belonged.

Still, his eyes ventured over the top of his head as he tried to figure out how many people he would have to kill to get her out in one piece. In the back of his mind, the words that Rollins had scrolled were screaming at him. Remember 'plan b'? It's time. Oh, he remembered. Damn fucking right, he remembered.

Meredith's soft and calloused hands tugged his face to look down at hers. "Whatever you're thinking— I can see the red of it. Stop."

A smirk curved at his mouth. He could get used to having her around to keep him in line.

okay so i feel horrible about the wait on this one, as usual i got caught up with my other story, im sorry!

everything seems okay right now... where do we go next?

to Nangel4, indeed Randy got what was coming to him! hope you enjoyed this little update :)!, quinzel harley, you know you're the third person to tell me that is reminiscent of mad max? damn. glad you're loving the story!, and Triss81, thanks for joining the journey! enjoy it :), thanks for the reviews, you guys get all my love!