Chapter three already? Where does the time go? Okay, so in this one we get our first taste of mystery and we also meet one of the many original characters who is going to pop up in this story (since I'm running out of wrestlers to use in between my Shield Cops AUs and my Little Brother stories etc!)
Skovko, Haha *shudder* no one will be naming spiders in this story. It's bad enough that I even had to type the word *shudders again* but yeah, Dean probably would. Also, in terms of pets, you might like chapter four!
ViolentHugger03, Aww, thank you, I'm glad you liked it. I really wanted Roman to have a nice family life in this one, plus I guess I needed to explain why our big Samoan beefcake would be temping as a secretary...oops, sorry Roman, officer manager!
HannonsPen, Got to mix up the sweetness and the mystery and the bromance and the crazy in this story. Keep you all guessing about what's coming next!
xXBalorBabeXx, I'm super glad you liked them! It's about time I wrote Roman's wife being his actual wife. She's not in it a lot, but when she is I like to think she's pretty cool!
Cheryl24, The mystery begins in this chapter, so put your Sherlock Holmes style deerstalker on and start guessing for this one!
Wolfgirl2013, Many thanks pal!
SkittlezLvr79, I know, I wanted Roman to have a proper backstory, but he's definitely been through the wringer in this one already (although on the plus side I'm thinking that revisiting his footballing past some way could make a good sequel?!)
Mandy, I know, breaks my heart they're on different promotions and they're not going to teaming together anymore, but hey, that's what fanfiction is for I guess and this story is going to be the team up to end all team ups!
Minnie1015, I know! How many stories have I written without having Roman's wife involved (except for the Police AU where they're divorced I guess) she was definitely overdue a proper appearance! Plus I mean, who doesn't love a bit of Daddy Roman?!
XwweoyoteX, Sorry about the tea choking thing (you should never drink and read...very dangerous stuff, lol!) but I couldn't resist making Seth something all pretty. Well, angry and pretty! I regret nothing!
MusketeerAdventure, Thank you so much for your reviews. I'm super happy you're enjoying it so far. Dean gets this next chapter all to himself (well, himself and Seth!) but his own story is going to unravel a bit more slowly over the chapters as Roman gets to know him.
Not-that-kinda-gurl, Haha, well, we haven't met all of Dean's 'team' yet (a couple more introductions in chapter Four still to come) so it depends on whether he can take them all with him when he moves (which is my way of not giving anything away at this point!)
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Well, it won't take long until both Roman and Dean are both in over their heads a bit (or a lot!) but he definitely likes the excitement for now. Let part of the mystery begin in 3, 2, 1…
Rebel8954, Maybe, maybe not...but for the moment it's still totally spider infested (ick) and not even painted with Roman's wife's new colour scheme, so you might have to wait a bit longer on that one! But for now, Dean definitely has other things on his mind…
I-Am-WarKitten, Roman fluff is always a good time and I can never resist setting the scene a bit first, but we're going to start getting into the nuts and bolts of the story from here on out (with some Roman/Dean bonding thrown in too of course!)
Enjoy!
THREE
The woman on the phone had said specifically to meet him in Ault Park on the steps of the pavilion at ten at night.
Although given that it's basically the middle of November and gets dark at three pm, the time seems kind of extreme. Not to mention that Dean is nearly freezing his nuts off and Seth, who is tucked in his coat, won't sit still.
"Dude," he huffs, "Like, the fuck are you doin'? Buildin' a freakin' nest in there? Come on. M' tryin' to look cool."
In response Seth growls and then bites the jacket zipper, which makes Dean snort fondly and scritch his head,
"Ya freakin jerk."
Because it's so late and so dark and so bitter, there isn't a whole lot of people around. Except for some lanky looking kids on their skateboards and a homeless guy trying to bed down for the night. The streetlamps are on up on top of the pavilion, but since the light they're throwing out is kind of muted at best, Dean is struggling to pick out his client and is starting to feel uneasy about the whole thing, since he's pretty sure most black and white murder movies start out the same way.
"Dean Ambrose?"
"Fuck," he barks, startling the baggily dressed kids on their skateboards and the poor homeless guy and not to mention freaking Seth, who growls unhappily about being jolted, or at the woman stood beside them who has stepped out of the gloom, like some sort of god damn spirit or something.
She steps back as Dean sighs,
"Fuck, yeah sorry, that's me. It's just – I mean like, freakin' warn a guy will ya? Otherwise you coulda been down there givin' me CPR."
He points at the floor and the woman looks down at it and then blinks back at him. Or at least, he thinks she does, since she's done up like Elizabeth freaking Taylor or something, with a loose white head scarf draped around her hair and neck and with a pair of sunglasses that nearly cover her whole face up, although Dean can still see that the woman is middle aged. Somewhere in her mid to late forties he guesses and kind of delicate looking with dark red colored lips, which suddenly round into a startled sort of o shape as Seth pops his bug eyed little head out of the coat and then sneezes messily and way too freaking loudly,
"Oh isn't he adorable. Can I hold him?"
Dean blinks,
"Uh – ,"
Reaching her arms out before he can stop her, or prevent her from being mauled to death by his tiny teeth, the woman plucks Seth from his arms like a baby and then actually rocks him over onto his back, which he figures the little hellhound will go totally batshit over. But instead he sticks his tongue out and does – well, nothing much. Except for making heart eyes at the woman, because of course he's a freaking ladies man.
"Oh my," the woman smiles, "He's an absolute darling."
"Yeah," Dean drawls back, "He's somethin' alright."
Sensing his tone the woman clears her throat suddenly and then hands Seth back over with what looks like a blush and a quick furtive glance like she's looking for something.
Or maybe someone.
The smile is gone,
"Mr Ambrose," she starts, newly devoid of all emotion, "Thank you for agreeing to meet me tonight."
Dean shrugs and then scratches his head,
"So, about that, is there some kinda reason we had to do this out here? Because okay, so my place ain't exactly a palace, but it's warmer than this, an' I got a sofa an' things."
Plus a brand new secretary. Oops, office manager who is built like some sort of Pacific Islands god and who is going to make a new system for his filing, which is already way more than all the other temps had done. And plus it's kind of nice to have a guy in the office. Besides himself obviously. Oh and not forgetting Seth. Not that he knows why a guy the size of Roman who wears freakin' waistcoats has ended up as a temp. He makes a mental note to ask him tomorrow – provided he shows up – then watches the woman shake her head,
"No, it had to be here," she says nervously, doing the whole eyes-darting-around bit again.
Dean lowers his voice,
"Are you in trouble or somethin'? Because I got numbers for like, shelters an' places like that."
Not that she looks like the type of girl that usually needs them, given that she is wearing a real mink coat and has a diamond the size of Plymouth Rock on her ring finger, which means that she can afford to get a fancy hotel, or possibly head off to her place in the Hamptons to get away from whoever.
A crappy husband would be his guess.
"No," the woman says, almost smiling a little as if she thinks he's gone and said something cute, "No, it's nothing like that. I promise."
Bullshit. Dean snorts,
"So then what's the deal here? Rich ass husband bangin' the nanny? Or his secretary maybe? Uh, office manager I mean?"
Her pale eyes widen,
"N-no."
Oh total bullshit.
Dean thrusts Seth further down into his coat and then zips it right up against the bitter north easterly which is billowing in across the night blackened park and which is even sending the skater kids scarpering before they end up with pneumonia. Or even worse –
Messed up hair.
"Look," Dean huffs, because he's starting to get restless and mildly frostbitten, "It's not a big deal. I mean catchin' out cheaters is like ninety percent of my workload, so if you're worried that this is my first gig or somethin', then I got some good news for ya here, because it ain't."
"My husband," the woman sort of stumbles on the last word, like she isn't used to saying it, "Isn't the reason why I'm here."
"Okay," Dean nods, "So then what is the reason why – son of a bitch,"
He hisses out of the blue as Seth digs a bony Pompom elbow into his liver and possibly lacerates it. Which would be just his freaking luck. Years of drink and his juice box gets totalled by a fidgety little rat dog with no sense of personal space.
"I need you to be outside this address tomorrow. At six o' clock precisely."
She hands across a folded note, which has a street name and house number scribbled across it but very little else.
He frowns uncertainly at it,
"Why? Because if I get there an' freakin' bigfoot jumps out at me, m' not gonna be real happy, ya know?"
The woman's immaculate brows narrow inwards,
"No bigfoot. Only something that needs to be done."
Reaching down into a leather purse – designer – she pulls out a wallet, nearly overflowing with cash and then starts to count out a roll of crisp twenties with a shake that don't seem just due to the cold. Every damn bell in his head screams danger, but holy crap, he needs the money.
"I can pay you up front. A hundred and fifty for one nights' surveillance at that address there," she holds the bills up and Dean feels his eyes almost turn into dollar signs, like a character from out of a nineteen sixties cartoon.
Cha-ching.
"Fine," he grunts taking the wodge of cash from her and then briskly thumbing through it to make sure it's all there. Once he's certain he goes to put it in his jacket, but then remembers that Seth is in there with his tiny paper shredding teeth and so rolls it up and tucks it into his jeans pocket, just to be safe, "I'll be there six o clock. But what the fuck am I even meant to be lookin' for?"
"You'll know the woman smiles weakly, "You'll know."
The homeless man coughs suddenly from somewhere below them as he tries to make himself comfy on his bench and the noise acts like some sort of clock bell or something, since the woman takes a step back and then grabs at her scarf, which is fast in danger of being blown off completely in the bitter evening wind and revealing her hair.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you Mr Ambrose," she offers and yep, okay, the woman's totally nuts. She's probably escaped from an asylum or something and so Dean wonders briefly if he even needs to do the job, since he doubts she'll remember having met him in an hour, let alone by six o' clock sharp tomorrow night.
Still a deal's a deal though.
He steeples his fingers and then mini bows at her,
"Uh yeah, this was fun. We should totally do it again sometime maybe."
The woman smiles sadly at him,
"No, I don't think we will."
Seth has poked his head back out of the jacket and so she reaches out and tousles his staticked up hair before turning and melting back into the darkness until all he can see is the brilliant white scarf, although even that fades into a pinprick and then into nothing, leaving him bewildered and totally alone.
Well, okay, alone except for Seth that is and the hobo who is already snoring from inside his sleeping bag, like Dean should be doing on the couch in his office, which fine, maybe isn't the best place in the world, but beats a bench right out in the open. Knowing it he pulls out one of the twenty dollar bills out and then tucks it into the hobo's sleeping bag as he passes by, so that at least the guy can wake up in the morning and get himself a hot meal and a cup of coffee to go.
Dean too for that matter, all thanks to his new client and her weird ass request.
He looks down at the folded note and in particular at the address that scribbled across it, 402 Maple Street, followed by six o' clock, the six part of which has been circled almost wildly. Because, okay, he freaking gets it. She needs him there by six o' clock. The address itself however isn't one he's familiar with and since he knows near enough all the bad parts of town, he figures it has to be somewhere more fancy.
Provided it's not a trap.
He lets out a groan,
"Fuck," then pushes Seth back into the folds of his jacket and turns and trudges off into the inky black night.
Next week, we have Roman's first day on the job and we meet another two members of the Private Investigating team. Sort of ;-)