It was weird having him home. He busied himself around the house, cooking, rearranging the books in the den, do all the laundry. She came home late Friday night to him humming in the kitchen as scrubbed the inside of the fridge.

"Hey," she said, her brow furrowed as she came into the room.

"Hi," he stood up straight, his hands covered in yellow rubber gloves.

"What are you…what are you doing?"

"You know how dirty your refrigerator gets?"

"Uh…no?" she leaned against the counter.

"Well like…real dirty."

"Have you been doing this all day again?"

He shrugged, "I can't do shit while this heals so, I dunno, just need something to take my mind off it."

"Let me put my stuff down but, after we could…play Saint's Row or something?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay." Renee nodded and returned to her own room, ditching her blazer and heavy laptop bag on her desk chair. She stripped off the uncomfortable pencil skirt and threw on a pair of worn ripped jeans. Tying her hair into a high ponytail, she found Dean in the living room, sitting on the arm of the sofa, grumpily on the phone.

"Yeah dude, no," he sighed, "I told you not tonight. Because I'm not really in a clubby mood. No, the bar isn't better."

She tilted her head and he rolled his eyes.

"Dave, man, not happening. No I don't want to dance my blues away, but thanks."

"I like dancing," Renee said.

"We'll go drinking next weekend okay? Alright, have fun. Bye."

"What was that?" she didn't hesitate to butt in.

"Dave and Ryan, you remember them from the hockey game a while ago?"

"Sure,"

"Well they have plans to get shitfaced and get up next to pretty girls. Some place in Rittenhouse they like to go dancing-"

"I like dancing," she repeated.

"No,"

"C'mon! It'll be fun."

"I thought we were going to play Saint's Row."

"You've been cooped up here for 2 days. Put on some real pants and let's go."

He sighed, "alright, let's go."

Not long later, they were leaning up against a table at the bar, swirling their drinks as pop music played. Renee was dressed in her tight ripped jeans and she'd thrown on a slinky tank top, low on her chest. He tried to keep his eyes down, sipping on a rum and coke. But her eyes were trained on him.

"Hey," she nudged him, "you seemed bummed out."

"I'm fine, like I told you, I don't really dance."

"Good luck trying," Dave quipped, "he's a stubborn one."

"We got him out here, didn't we?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, you two go find Ryan out there."

"It's been five minutes, he's already glued to a pretty blonde."

"Seriously," he looked at Renee, "go have fun."

"I am having fun."

"Well I'm gonna go have fun," Dave stood up from the table, "you two have fun over here."

"You can go," he told her again.

"I'd rather be with you."

"Really?"

"I mean, just like, you're the only one I know here. Not really into getting felt up on the dance floor by strangers."

"Right. Uh, well, let me buy you another drink?"

"I'd rather you dance with me."

He sighed, "I'm not getting out of this, huh?

"Not a chance," she grinned. "C'mon."

"Fine," he followed her out to the floor and watched as she started swaying her arms and her hips. He tried to follow the beat, but his eyes were mesmerized by her.

She giggled and came up to his ear, "you look uncomfortable."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Here, I'll show you." Renee turned her back towards him and put her lips up next to his ear, "put your hands on my hips."

He held his breath as his palms came onto her hip bones and she pushed back against his body. She started moving one side to the beat, moving it up and down, pushing up against his leg.

"Just like that," she said with a coy smile, pushing on his hip with her hand to follow her motions. She had to put her mouth very close to his ear for him to hear, and it was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Easy, right?"

"Easy," he breathed, tilting his hips away from her and trying not to let on as she danced against him.

"It's fun, right?" she pushed a little harder, her hands gripping his hips.

He chuckled, "yeah," in a moment of bravery, wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, "real fun."

She laughed and tipped her head back against his shoulder, her hips swaying from side to side. "That's the idea,"

"I'm a fast learner," he smirked, trying to play it cool. Truth was, her body pressed against his was burning through his skin. He wanted to touch every inch of her, though he kept his hands around her waist, wandering only up and down the slightest bit.

One song in, and she wasn't holding back anymore, moving like she was enjoying every moment of it. With every beat, she pushed and pulled her hips. And with every motion, his heart beat a little faster, his stomach dropped a little bit deeper, and he wanted more. She was breathing heavy, too, he watched over her shoulder as her chest rose and fell.

Somehow, his lips found their way next to her neck, daring him to press them right there, kiss her, enjoy her. He didn't. There was no way. But he let them graze up against her and she laughed lightly, pressing back up against him again. Her hands came up behind his neck and she closed her eyes. He wanted her so badly as her hips ground roughly into his, his chest felt like it might explode. Inadvertently, he licked his lips, and as his tongue narrowly missed her skin, he felt her breath hitch and watched her bit down hard on her lip.

He dropped his hands.

"Can we go?"

"What?" she dropped her hands and spun around, her eyes wide. "Was that, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, I just, uh, I'm woozy all of a sudden." He gulped, it wasn't a complete lie, his vision was a little blurry, the room thumping and moving too fast.

"Oh! We can go-"

"I mean, you can stay, if you want. I just meant I need to go. You should stay."

"I'll go with you," she grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the crowd. "You don't look too good."

"I just need a cab and I'm fine-"

"I'll get it with you."

Renee handled everything, and gracefully. She closed his tab at the bar and handed him back his Mastercard. She led him outside the bar and called a cab, helping him into the backseat and giving the driver their address. In the car, he leaned his head back against the headrest and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything was spinning, though he couldn't tell if that was the concussion or the high from her body. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and he chuckled, though she pursed her lips in response.

"You're hot."

"Just the heat."

"Were you supposed to be drinking?"

"I'm fine, Renee,"

She looked concerned but didn't push the issue.

"Just got a little woozy. Too hot," he tried to explain away.

"Okay, let's just get you to bed."

He insisted to her that he was fine again and again, firmly telling her goodnight at the foot of the stairs. In reality, he just needed to get as far away from her as humanly possible. A cold shower might have done him good, but instead, he found himself collapsed on the bed, closing his eyes and dreaming of her body moving up against his. It wouldn't be the first time that he thought about her like that, fantasizing about her in the shower or in the skimpy sleepwear she threw a sweatshirt over to leave her room. But tonight it was vivid, the wanting was so deep, the need-

A knock came at his door.

"Dean?"

He jumped. His hand letting go of the sheet he was gripping.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to- uh I just wanted to see if you were okay?"

"Yeah, I," he opened the door, she was standing in front of him, her cheeks still flushed, wrapped in a robe over a pair of leggings and a lacy tank top. She was holding two mugs in her hands. "I'm okay, really."

"Bet you'll be even more okay with some tea," she handed him one, black tea, just a bit of honey, the way he liked it.

"You worry too much, but thanks," he nodded for her to come in and she sat at the edge of his bed next to him. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

She blushed but nodded, "yeah, me too."

"I don't really…let loose like that much." He sipped on his tea, she'd made it perfectly.

"Well, now you know how. Next time they wanna go dance with pretty girls."

"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed, "naw, I don't think-"

"It's just dancing, Dean, it's not a lifelong commitment," she smiled and tilted her head. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Right. Of course not. Doesn't mean anything."

She nodded, looking down at her tea. "You're probably tired,"

"Yeah, uh, see you tomorrow?"

"Sure," she stood up, "I'm going grocery shopping if you wanna tag along."

"You trust me not to buy a ton of Ring Dings and marshmallows?"

"Not really but," she laughed, "goodnight."

"Night."

Back in her own room, she settled under the covers, sipping on the tea from her mug. It wasn't hard to find the video of Dean's incident, it was all over the internet. Brutal was an understatement. One viewing was plenty, it made her stomach churn. But off of that video, there was one of Dean Ambrose's memorable moments, which lead to an article about his time as Jon Moxely, and a gallery of him throughout his career

Most of the pictures included some level of blood, and she skipped past them as quick as she could. But scrolling through it, she could help notice that he spent a lot more time in a lot less clothing earlier in his career. These days he was wearing jeans and tank tops to the ring, before then the full body tactical costume. A while ago it seemed he preferred trunks, or at least wrestling shirtless. He was modest around the apartment, the only time she actually saw him without one was in the gym, and even then he'd usually cover back up if she joined him. She hadn't meant to pause on those pictures, his trunks low on his hips and only a vest covering his toned chest. But there she was, looking at his devious smile and the thin layer of sweat that covered him. Scrolling slowly, she felt herself blush as she came to a picture of him with a dog collar around his neck. Don't be silly, she told herself.

Then there was the kicker. NXT banners in the background told her it wasn't from that long ago and it was lit like a glamor shoot, reflecting his tan skin. His chest was unusually hairy, shading the curves of his pecs and abs, which he was showing off by opening his leather jacket. He had one of those looks on his face, confident and cool. Renee gulped, it was a gorgeous picture. Her heart had been beating faster and faster as she explored the gallery, and now the pressure was unbearable. It wasn't really something she had let herself imagine for the most part, but after his lips on the dance floor, she let herself have it this once.

Lightly, she brought her fingertips to the peaks of her chest that were pushing through the thin material of her tank top. Rubbing her thumbs in gentle circles, the relief was instantaneous.

Then she heard footsteps down the hall. She jumped, taking her hands off of her body, and slamming her laptop closed. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she listened, but his steps continued past her room and into the kitchen. There was some clinking, his mug in the sink. He walked past her closed door again and as she heard him on the stairs, she breathed a sigh a relief. What the hell was she thinking, doing that to a picture of him while he was upstairs? The door didn't even lock. He was respectful of her privacy, it wasn't like it was the first time she'd enjoyed some alone time, but if he had walked in this time, and seen that on her computer? It was a disaster waiting to happen.

She exited out of the tabs, cleared her history, and put her computer away. Closing her eyes, she tried her hardest to think about something, anything, that wasn't Dean shirtless, Dean's hands firm on her waist, Dean's lips flirting with her neck…

It wasn't getting her very far.