Some one-thousand-sixty-seven miles southwest of Stamford, in the city of Tampa, a lot less had been happening for the better part of two months. And, from the looks of it, things were going to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

"That comes to seventeen sixty-five."

Dean Ambrose was tired, but he knew he had a responsibility to keep. He fought fatigue that Friday morning, having worked a twelve-hour shift the last few days. He was only running the counter today because the manager that was usually scheduled for mornings unexpectedly quit and Dean, being the reliable "good son", assured Sika he'd cover the shift until they hired someone else.

The old woman trying to buy her morning essentials frowned. "It was sixteen fifty yesterday."

Dean had heard this kind of argument before. A customer, not happy with the price of whatever they were trying to buy, either arguing or take a shot at haggling. Since Dean was too tired to rip people's heads off and had no desire to point out the prices on the shelves when he had them easily memorized, he put on his best fake smile and decided to play the game by the rules Sika insisted he follows.

"Actually, Mrs. Jefferson, the prices haven't changed for cigarettes and coffee in seven years," Dean calmly, though sarcastically, explained to the old regular who did this same act each day. "I would know. I watch a lot of channel five news."

The grumpy old woman handed over a crinkled twenty. Dean counted back her change and handed over the coins and singles. The old woman muttered something incoherently under her breath, to which Dean replied with an eye roll and a heavy sigh.

"FUCK! This game is rigged to the fuckin' gills!"

Dean sighed. If old women insisting the prices had magically moved in less than a day, the random outbursts from the shop's arcade were enough to send Ambrose into a frenzy.

"Yo, Eddie!" Dean called out, cracking a smile when his best friend cursed again and flipped off the Pac-Man machine. "I said no fuckin' swearin' when there are customers in the store!"

"Yo, Pac-Man ate my fuckin' quarter." Eddie walked up to the front counter where Dean was now taking inventory. He tried snatching a bag of peanuts when Ambrose's back was turned, but Dean heard the bag crinkle and grabbed the bag before Eddie threw off his count. "How long you got left on ya shift?"

Ambrose chuckled dryly. It was nothing short of a miracle if he left when he was supposed to. "Whenever the next guy comes in to cover for me."

Eddie sucked his teeth. "Bruh, fuck that shit. I says you sneak out and fuckin' bail. I got two IPA's with your name on them down at Pat's."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Right, man. That's a great idea. My parents don't charge me rent, but I should definitely cut work just to drink at..." he checked his watch. "Nine-fifteen."

Eddie's brow furrowed together. "It's nine? For reals? Ah, fuck. I'm late for work. See ya later, Mox."

The nickname "Mox" came from one of Dean's all-time favorite movies, Varsity Blues. Whenever he hung out with Eddie, they usually ended up watching it. Eddie started calling Dean "Mox", after the main character from the film Jonathon Moxon, and it had stuck ever since.

"You're meeting me at Pat's for a beer after work," Eddie reminded Dean, backing towards the door. "You owe me, dude. I went to the pen for your ass."

Dean waved the clipboard dismissively over his shoulder, earning a cackle from Eddie in return. Eddie was an obnoxious ex-felon, but he was right in assuming Dean needed a drink. Because he did... or six.

Outside of work, Dean rarely did anything as exciting as he normally would if he were back at Stamford. Following his arrest, he was asked to stand in front of a judge to hear his sentencing. Despite attacking someone outside BPO, he wasn't charged for anything to do with the party. He was given a few hours of community service and a disorderly conduct strike on his record. Following that, after working for hours on end at either of Sika's gas stations, he really didn't have the same desire to go out like he used to.

Dean kicked his shoes off. He took a single bound towards his bed and fell face-first onto his comforter. His feet started to feel less likely to fall off and his shoulders and back popped when his body and the mattress settled. He groaned heavily, maybe more forceful than normal just to get any extra stress off his aching body.

A nap seemed like the perfect antidote to the poison that was twelve-hour shifts, especially if he was supposed to go out with Eddie later. For reasons that Dean fully understood but hated at the same time, Eddie wasn't a "let's go out for a few drinks then call it a night" kind of person. When Eddie wanted to hit up a bar after a long work week, he was closing it down or getting dragged out by the bouncer.

Dean started to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Just as the sweet relief of unconsciousness started to fog over his brain, he felt his phone rumble in his pocket. A vocal outburst of "FUCK" wasn't necessary, but it perfectly conveyed how Dean felt about someone trying to reach him when he was mere minutes from sleep.

The notification was a text from Roman asking him how he was feeling. Dean didn't talk to his brother much since he was suspended from SU. Between being pissed off at everyone that was involved in his suspension and hating that he let a lot of people down, Ambrose didn't really keep up much with his friends. He sent a text or two every once in a while just to let them know he was still alive, but his wounded pride kept him mostly to himself.

R: We just landed. Hope you're good, bro

Dean both sighed out of guilt and rolled his eyes for someone looking out for him. Guilty because he hadn't kept up more with Roman but annoyed because why would anyone care what he was doing? He disgraced himself, BPO, and pretty much his entire immediate adoptive family afterall.

D: All good, dude. Kick ass tomorrow

It was the truth but it took every ounce of his energy not to scream while he typed out the message. It should've been him on that flight to Hawaii right now ready to murder some poor sap thinking he had a chance against the fucking Concussion Artist of Stamford.

"FUCK!" Dean yelled out for a second time. It wasn't directed at his phone though. The weeks following his departure from SU kept Dean wound up to the point that he was ready to fight the next person he bumped into. The old lady from earlier in the day was lucky she didn't get the register thrown at her for her minor inconvenience. He tried making time to go to the gym more than a few times a week just to blow off some steam, but with work it was extremely difficult.

Or maybe Dean just needed to get laid. It'd been over a month since he had any sexual contact with someone, and it showed with each time he got drunk with Eddie and found himself with his thumb hovering over Alexa's name in his texts. He tried using Tinder and all that bullshit, but no one he was interested in was willing to "put out" before they got to know Dean more. Everyone worth a damn wanted a relationship, but Dean was over that shit.

Alexa... the thought of her made Dean plot to invent some kind of "do-over" machine that could either undo the Halloween party or his affair with Ruby. Either way, he was a fucking moron that deserved to be laying alone in his bed staring at the beige ceiling wondering what could've been if he wasn't careless and selfish. Still, he wished there was some feasible way to make Alexa appear, forgive him, then fuck their cares away like they used to do.

But now he was scrolling through old texts with Alexa. She hadn't sent him anything since he was suspended; No "are you ok?" texts or even a well-deserved "fuck you, asshole! I hope you fucking choke!" message. Dean found himself re-reading some of the more risque things he and Alexa would send while they were together. Most of it was very blunt on his end, with Alexa having to deal with his shit, but there were a few "see you soon, baby" texts followed by a lewd picture.

The bittersweet trip down memory lane came to an abrupt end with a text from Eddie.

E: Where the fuck are you? I gots Miami sluts grabbin' on my dick! You bettah get down here before I take them all

Dean sat up, planting his feet on the floor. He sent Eddie a text, saying he's on his way, then slipped his phone back in his pocket.

"I really do need a beer," Dean told himself, mentally preparing himself for a long night.

Pat's Bar was owned and operated by former NFL punter Pat McAfee. He filled the bar with sports memorabilia and various arcade games; Though it wasn't as popular or as massive as Roadies, it remained a key part of Tampa's bar scene. Following his retirement, Pat opened the bar in hopes that the locals would swarm to it as their new spot to get a beer after work. Instead, the local youth picked it as their new territory when visiting from school or needing a drink and a break from their own lives.

Dean parked his trusty "Betty" along the curb a little after ten and headed into the bar. He spotted his best friend of multiple years surrounded by women who were either out of his league or drunk off their asses or maybe both. Still, when Eddie got his drink on he could talk the Pope into converting to Judaism. The two made eye contact. Eddie waved his friend over, but Dean made a motion to the bar and held up two fingers, letting Eddie know he would be ready to tolerate the bar sluts after a few drinks.

Dean wasn't sure why he let Eddie talk him into some dumb shit most of the time, but he was used to it by now. Like Dean, Eddie grew up with parents that didn't really care for his well being or gave a shit if he had food or clothing. But, unlike Ambrose, Eddie grew up in the foster system, being moved between families and group homes multiple times in his youth. Eddie was often busted trying to run away back to Tampa. He finally found his footing after being put into a group home where one of his foster brothers sold weed to make a quick buck. It eventually led to Eddie's arrest at sixteen, but Dean helped him get a more suitable job working construction after he made parole.

Now, Dean sat at the bar. Eddie was hollering at Matt Riddle, the only other male in the bar, to change the music on the jukebox from his "hippie bullshit" to something with "culture."

"This is culture, bro!" Riddle yelled across the room, his eyes practically closed.

Eddie threw his hands in the air, deciding to focus more on the bar rats than the high idiot.

"What can I get ya?"

Dean threw Eddie a side glance. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew full well that Ruby would be working tonight and Dean would have to talk to her at some point.

But Dean didn't. Ever since he found out about Ruby and Seth, he didn't want to give his ex the time of day. Ruby understood somewhat, but she also didn't know why Dean had to be a dick to her after they were ok the last time they talked in person.

"Beer."

Ruby chuckled dryly. "No shit. What kind?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his ex. Ruby nodded, knowing Dean well enough to remember that he'd want the same kind of drink to get his night started.

"How was work?" Ruby asked, filling a glass with Dean's preferred brew from the tap.

"Shit." Dean didn't want to look rude, but he also didn't want to look at Ruby too long before he started thinking about what she did with Seth. He figured quick answers would keep the beer coming and keep his inner troubled thoughts at bay.

Ruby slapped a coaster down and placed Dean's beer on the bar. "You gonna keep being a little bitch or are you gonna talk to me?"

Dean turned into his seat, fully facing the bartender who was very clearly trying to push his buttons. "You just lost your tip, Riott."

Ruby tried to hide her grin, but she knew Dean was just screwing with her. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, he could only make me cum twice in an hour."

Dean nearly choked on his first sip of beer, which made Ruby laugh loudly. Ambrose quickly put away his first beer, an extended middle finger pointed in Ruby's direction the entire time he chugged his drink. Ruby quickly filled the glass again and returned it.

"I'm sorry, ok?" Ruby said, trying to extend the olive branch she'd been trying to give ever since Dean started living in Tampa again.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. But how low were your standards, man? I mean... fucking Seth, Rube?"

Ruby shrugged. "I needed a distraction and the local scene sucks."

"It couldn't have been literally anyone else?" Dean asked.

Ruby did feel bad for hurting Dean's feelings, but she wasn't sorry for hooking up with Seth. Rollins was the distraction Ruby needed until she was ready to move to Stamford. Unfortunately, her fling with Seth was the reason for her firing from Disney when a supervisor caught her taking topless pics in the bathroom when she was supposed to be guiding a boat tour.

"It could've been," Ruby figured. "He wasn't being a douche at the wedding, and he made a move. I let him. We screwed. It's not that deep, babe. It really isn't."

Dean knew Ruby was right. He gave her the cold shoulder his first day back in Tampa and regretted it ever since. Broken up or not, Ruby was still one of his best friends and would most likely always will be. Still, the thought of one of his best friends fucking his ex made Dean cringe.

"Are you ready for Stamford yet?" Dean asked, deciding to take the conversation elsewhere.

Ruby nodded. "Yeah. I have to show up before the start of the semester but at least my best friend will be there... oh, wait."

Dean shook his head. "I'll be there. I have the hearing with the Board in a month. I plead my case and they'll let me back in."

It sounded easier than it probably was. Following his suspension, Dean received an email from the schoolboard. In the letter, he learned that they were strongly considering reinstating him in SU if he could prove that he had rehabilitated himself in the time he was away. If he could, he was an SU Titan once again. If not, Dean was at risk of being permantely suspended from SU.

Ruby smiled, glad to hear that Dean had confidence going into the hearing. "That's good, dude. You'll kill it. Speaking of getting back in..."

Ruby and Dean both looked further down the bar. One of the girls hanging on Eddie, a short one with blonde hair and a shirt that barely qualified as a top, was eyeing Dean closely.

"You gonna hit that?" Ruby asked.

"I am a sucker for short blonde chicks," Dean chuckled, flashing the girl a wink. "Maybe I break this cold streak and break her back on the pinball machine."

Ruby poured herself a shot of whiskey. "Save some for me. I need some fucking BAD."

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, prompting more gut-busting laughter from Ruby. Dean worked his second beer down, then a third and fourth. He told Ruby he was going to join Eddie at the end of the bar, then took his beer over and decided it was time to partake in whatever Eddie had planned for them.

Dean's head spun, a crooked smile on his lips. He wasn't sure what time it was or if his phone survived the night, but the spinning room and growing hunger pains told him he was fucked up. Somewhere between chatting with Ruby and Eddie challenging Pat McAffe himself to a shots challenge and Dean downing three pitchers of beer in one go, he stumbled into the bathroom to take a piss.

Dean started to wash his hands, hoping he didn't accidentally trip and bust his face on the porcelain basin. But he didn't, thankfully, or he would've fallen back on the tipsy blonde that followed him inside. A few flirty words and sloppy smooches were exchanged, but Dean didn't think he was in the right mindset to perform right now.

"Are you close?"

Dean blinked. With no real way to know what time it was, he was sure he was only in the bathroom for a few minutes. Or maybe it was an hour. But, as it usually was when he'd been drinking, Dean knew there was no real way to know how much time had passed.

Dean looked down at the girl kneeling in front of him, her mouth sealed around his erect cock. He sighed, suddenly remembering the proposition she made after he washed her hands. Apparently, Dean was a "cutie" when he was drunk and hitting on every girl in the bar with a pulse, which led to this random local that Dean had no chance of remembering the name of.

"Cl-close to what?" Dean sputtered, leaning heavily on the wall to keep himself upright.

The girl swirled her tongue around Dean's dick a few times. "How about that?" She asked proudly, expecting Dean to swoon over her oral skills.

"I mean, it's not terrible?" Dean blurted out.

The girl scoffed and got to her feet. She cursed something at Dean before storming out, but Ambrose was finding it nearly impossible to tuck his dick away without falling over. He managed to wrestle his fly up and tighten his belt, but the room wouldn't stop spinning long enough to remember if he had a tab open or he was paying with cash all night.

"Fuck me raw like a Monday night," Dean muttered to himself, patting his pockets until he found his wallet, keys, and phone.

Dean stumbled into the bar again. He took a moment to scan the area, then shuffled back to his stool and sat down. Ruby took one look at her ex and slid him a diet soda and a lite beer.

"Thanks, Rube," Dean muttered, chugging the beer, then working on the soda.

"Eddie says I have to drive you dipshits home," Ruby told, nodding at the corner of the bar where Eddie was dancing with two chicks. "I gotta sweep quick, then I can drive you back, ok?"

Dean nodded, his head feeling like it was made of lead. "For sure. Just don't tell Pat I'm wasted or he might kick my ass out!"

Pat, the owner, was sitting directly next to Dean working on a basket of chicken tenders to hopefully help with the hangover he was going to have in the morning.

Ruby rolled her eyes and started to clean up. Dean talked Pat into handing over a chicken tender, then slipped him a twenty and thanked him for his "service" in the NFL.

Ruby shut her car off after pulling into the Reigns' driveway. Eddie was passed out in the back, snoring up a storm, but Dean found the ability to slip out of the car thanks to sobering up enough on the drive over after Ruby reluctantly stopped for Taco Bell on the way.

"Is it cool if I crash here tonight?" Ruby asked her ex.

"Your foster dad isn't letting you stay at his place?" Dean asked.

Ruby shook her head. "He flipped when I told him I was transferring. If not, I can just call up the shelter or sleep at the bar."

Dean furrowed his brow. "Dude, don't be gay. Of course you can spend the night."

Ruby offered a smile, then Dean led the way into his house. Thankfully, Sika and Patricia were both asleep. Dean held an index finger against his lips, then started to tiptoe like an old-timey cartoon character. Ruby silently snickered, walking normally behind her ex as he guided her through the house and into the basement.

Dean kicked his shoes off. Finally seeing sleep as a possibility, he nearly screamed out when he noticed he only had a few hours until he needed to be back at the gas station. Ruby laid her jacket over the back of the sectional she would be spending the night on. She started to make herself comfortable, but she caught sight of Dean pulling off his t-shirt.

Dean tried processing how to undo his belt, but his fingers weren't cooperating. Thankfully, and a little alarmingly, Ruby started to loosen Dean's belt.

One look is all it took to tell Dean what Ruby had in mind. Her stare was soft if conflicted, but her smirk told him she wanted to spend the night in his bed instead of the couch.

"Figured you were gonna kill that blonde bitch back at Pat's," Dean slurred, smiling to himself as Ruby started to shed clothes.

Ruby snickered. "Dude, she was fucking pissed that you couldn't keep it up. Pat had to tell her to leave and shit."

Dean fed a finger through the belt loops on Ruby's jeans. He pulled her close, then pressed his lips against hers.

"Tell me this was your idea when I wake up tomorrow," Dean chuckled.

Ruby grinned widely. "Not a chance, Ambrose. This was all your plan."

Dean didn't expect to sleep with his ex after a night of drinking with Eddie, but he was sick of feeling sorry for himself. He was doing everything he needed to before he had a chance of going back to SU, and he was busting his ass every day to keep the family business running. He earned a night out that ended in sex. Would it complicate things? Maybe, but Ruby's skilled tongue wrestling his and her nimble fingers doing things only she could do made Dean forget about the potential regret and lift his ex into his bed.