The GOAT OTP, Shield-era Ambrose and Rollins. Not associated with any Second Shift version of these two; just a happy joyride with the boys – XTL.
It was one of those road trips; the kind where you're the driver and your passenger sleeps, leaving you alone with the road and your thoughts and making you kind of resent them for sleeping so soundly.
Dean Ambrose was that resentful, lonely driver on the relatively short drive from Columbus, Ohio to Detroit – a trip he'd made plenty of times and not just as a WWE guy but an indie guy too. The Midwest was a wrestling-rich area and these cities were regular stops for most promotions.
In the passenger seat, his two-tone hair pulled into a damp ponytail, Seth Rollins, slept soundly just thirty minutes into the three-hour trip. He smelled like the fresh shower he'd taken less than an hour ago and the pleasant scent tickled Ambrose's nose. It was something like feminine floral mingling with masculine musk and was sexy and bloomed from Rollins' taunt skin. That inviting scent joined all the other clutter in Ambrose's mind.
Why wouldn't his mind be cluttered? He was a year into what was one of the best faction runs in WWE in quite a while and staying relevant was always a thought; he wanted to keep this amazing ride going as long as possible. And maybe other things kept him a bit off kilter as well. Like the gorgeous brunette sleeping beside him.
Rollins filled so many of Dean's daydreams and especially daydreams that come at night after a long day, a long drive –that long hair in his face, tanned skin against his own – so much to clutter a man's mind. So many touches, so many kisses…
The loud bark of the rumble strips roared through the rented Ford Focus, causing Ambrose to jerk the car back onto the highway and Rollins to bolt upright in his seat.
"Jesus Christ, Dean!" Seth was shaking. "Did you run off the road?"
"I'm sorry, man." Ambrose meant it. "I am so sorry. I think I drifted a little bit; maybe dozed a little." He was tired. The day had been long and he was already running on limited rest. He'd preformed in a match with his whole heart. The rental was pumping out wonderful warmth and the radio was playing low. And there was Rollins, resting peacefully. It was a recipe for falling asleep.
Seth wiped his eyes and cracked opened a sugar-free Red Bull. "How much longer? I'll stay awake with you."
"No, it's cool," Dean insisted. "Go back to sleep." He wanted Seth's company but felt terrible for waking the man.
"Honestly, I don't think I can sleep now," Rollins chuckled as he downed some of the energy drink. "You kinda fucking scared me to death, Ambrose." He passed the drink to the driver who took several gulps and handed it back. They were close. Sharing a drink, at this point in their relationship, was nothing new.
"I'm really sorry," Ambrose apologized yet again. "But the way you shot up…" He trailed off, laughing. "Fuck, you must have been having an intense dream or something."
"Why would you say that?" Rollins seemed guilty. "Was I like talking or something?"
"No, fucking weirdo," Dean chuckled. "You just seemed really deep asleep, like into your REM shit, whatever."
Seth was eager to change the subject. "How much farther did you say it was?"
"Maybe two and a half hours." Ambrose looked over at his passenger who now biting his nails and something made him just blurt out, "Why are you so paranoid? Were you dreaming of me?"
"Okay, goddamnit," Rollins snapped. "Was I saying shit in my sleep? Just tell me. Stop fucking with me."
Ambrose couldn't help laughing at Seth's serious tone. "No! I swear you weren't. Wow, touchy." Dean took a sip of his own diet soda. "Were you dreaming of me?"
"Fuck off, Ambrose!" Rollins was clearly hiding something. Dean was intrigued.
"What were you dreaming?" Dean said without laughing this time. "I promise I won't judge. Keep me awake. Tell me this interesting dream."
Rollins seemed like he really might share his dream when the Focus begin making a rattling noise and slowing down rapidly.
"What are you doing?" Rollins asked as the traffic began whizzing past the small car.
"Nothing," Ambrose grunted, pressing the gas pedal. "It's just stopping." He managed to get the car to the side of the road and into a gravel-covered area where they were safely off the busy highway.
"Fuck!" Rollins hissed holding his cell phone. "No signal."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ambrose grumbled. "Only in Ohio."
"Now what?" Rollins ask the driver. "Walk?" He pointed to a brightly lit exit just down the darkened highway. "Were big boys. Let's walk it. They'll have a signal."
"And if not, we can stay at the Family Quality Court motel," Ambrose joked as saw the sign for the old motel ahead.
"Fuck yes, 5-star hotel for sure," Rollins laughed.
The two grabbed the bags they deemed necessary in case they really did have to stay overnight and hiked up the highway in the cold night air and up the steep incline to the exit area.
TO BE CONCLUDED in next chapter
