Forever having a hard time with this. God, I dislike whatever is or isn't going on with Del Rio and Paige IRL, I just don't see anything likeable about him. Ah, well. Who knows.

Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!

In other news, I'm forever taking things in a new direction here. That means it's my own alteration of what may have actually happened, for story purposes. Keep an open mind, friends! :)


The car ride was a long one, and the air was humid and stagnant between Dean and Paige. He had offered her the ride, though Paige suspected it was because Stephanie McMahon had asked him to do so. She also suspected that Renee was mysteriously filming at a vineyard for Total Divas today, making herself unavailable for this long, boring car ride from Georgia to Roman's home in Florida.

Have no fear, though, Dean was ever the knight in shining armor! Paige thought angrily, biting her own lip to keep her from saying something rude or laughing out loud as the floppy-haired lunatic drove precisely the speed limit down a busy main road.

While Paige was still pretty freakin' pissed about this whole situation at hand, she assumed that her new nanny probably felt the same way about keeping a watchful eye on her as well. After all, Paige was a well-known "wild one," and Roman...well, she'd put her whole year's salary on the idea that he'd be a stickler during this month-long stay. His clock was ticking, and people were equally upset with him as they were her, just for different...ish reasons.

It was likely that Roman wanted to steer clear of any fun things, since his job was in serious jeopardy. If Roman couldn't grasp on to his main-event position without keeping his piss clean, Paige knew that he'd pick his career first. That fucking sucked. And, if Paige had half a proper mind, she'd be forcing herself to keep getting better and stronger each day.

But things...weren't really that easy. She was at the point in her life and career that she wondered that, even if she did try to make serious changes within herself, would it even matter anymore? She was so far from the Women's title now that she couldn't even sniff it if she wanted to; her rockin' abs were becoming more soft with each passing week, and she had snuck menthol cigarettes into her evenings here and there lately.

Combine that with the trainwreck that was her life, and things were just gravy.

Paige still kept silent as Dean nervously drummed his fingers against the rental car's steering wheel, totally out of beat with the Nirvana song that was playing on the radio. She was about to tell him to knock that shit off, but she began over-thinking again. Why had Dean been so persistent on having his friend babysit her? Yeah, there was an age difference, but not so much that Reign's could be her pops. Did Ambrose seriously think that maybe the Samoan could make her change her ways? If so, that was a joke; and she'd be missing the punchline.

"Roman's house is great," Dean finally spoke for the first time in probably a hundred or so miles. Paige drew her eyebrow up at him, quirking it in similar fashion to the Rock. She knew he was only trying to be nice and break the obvious tension that hung between them. The last time they'd really spoken was during her intervention, and Dean had avoided her since then. Still, Paige wasn't feeling like talking to the lunatic fringe, rolling her heavily darkened eyes at the the lunatic and silently wishing that Renee had put on her big-girl panties and been the one to drive her. At least they could've talked about sex, or something equally exciting. Dean's version of small talk was even worse than she'd imagined.

Ignoring him still, she couldn't help but internally chuckle as Ambrose carefully checked his blindspot as he pulled on to the super-busy interstate, driving the exact speed limit still. He used his blinker, slowed for an old woman to pass him, then finally merged to the 70 MPH along with the other drivers. If the WWE Universe could see him now, they wouldn't thing him to be a crazed lunatic at all; he drove like a grandpa.

Not so crazy after all, huh Dean? Paige thought to herself. What has Renee done to the pink-haired psycho that the world had originally fell in love with?

Immediately, the raven-haired diva felt badly about that thought. Renee was a great friend, and Ambrose had so needed the gorgeous interviewer to calm his erratic behavior; behavior that easily once rivaled her own. Still, she should feel the same about herself. Paige was hardly a serious player in the title game, and her gimmick had fallen flat. While Dean had admitted that he felt he was being watered down, he was relevant.

"You'll have a good time with him, kid," Dean said quietly, knowing that she had chosen to ignore his last statement outright. "I think that having someone to mentor might help get Ro out of that slump. Not to mention I think, after the shit I've witnessed lately, you could use some sort of guidance."

"Oh, save me, Ambrose," Paige spat sarcastically, fanning herself with her own hand in a dramatic way. "I'm a damsel in distress, and I need a man to provide me with direction!"

Dean laughed awkwardly, unsure if Paige was joking with him or being a bitch. She was intending for both; in this case, it seemed to work.

"I don't mean to make you feel like you need male support, P," Dean said after a long, drawn out silence. "I just think that you're not looking at the bigger picture. If you end up getting thrown back to NXT, or worse, you lose a lot more than you think you will."

"TNA is always hiring," she pointed out.

"Yeah, and the women's wrestling on there is more of a joke than when Kelly Kelly held the Divas belt. Not to mention, how long will they realistically exist for? And I don't want to hear you utter a word about ROH, because we both know that that's not much better as far as creative direction is concerned."

Paige sighed. "I guess you're right," she finally waved her white flag, defeated. She was exhausted from bickering with her friend, and even though she didn't completely agree with him, she knew Dean was only doing this in her best interest.

"Did you actually make this a condition fro Reigns' return?" she asked. "Babysitting?"

"Quit saying it like that. Yes, it was a condition. He could remain in the triple threat if he kept an eye on you during your own leave, since you'd mentioned that you would otherwise not have anywhere else to stay. He also needs to test clean the day before the Pay-Per-View, or he'll be written out of the storyline. That being said, don't try to get him to do anything that would be frowned upon, because as dumb as Roman's been lately, he's still one of my greatest friends in life. And I would hate to see him go down like this."

"I'm chopped liver?"

"You're being forced to stay with him, are you not? That ought to be proof enough for you that I'm just as concerned over your well-being, Renee aside."

Paige sighed, knotting her fingers together on her lap. "I guess. This is just not how I imagined my time off. I feel like I'm suffocating, like I don't have a say in this whatsoever."

"Whatever it takes to keep you both safe and out of trouble," Dean muttered, driving too slowly for the rest of the traffic to handle. People cruised by him, honking and flashing obscene hand signals at him. He was oblivious, and Paige wished she'd offered to drive. They'd already be at their destination; granted, she usually went about ten over the speed limit.

"You know you can go the speed limit," she said in a bored voice, checking her phone for maybe the millionth or so time. Still no texts. No internet connection, and she was running really low on data. She was forced to hang out with the smelly animal that was Ambrose.

"I'm aware, but I don't know this area real well. If I pass Roman's street, there's a bunch of one-way streets that are a pain in the ass to figure out."

Paige sighed, looking out her window and watching houses pass by. Each home looked similar: lovely, well-kept hedges, pristine lawns, and fenced-in yards. Some homes at palm trees, but they all looked expensive.

"Ah, there it is," Dean muttered to no one, taking a quick turn into an equally lavish neighborhood. He stayed on that road for awhile, each house still similar and just as boring as the previous one, until he finally pulled into the driveway of a medium-sized, two-story condo. The lawn was freshly cut, Paige's eyes could tell that as they started to get irritated (thanks, allergies!). Roman was apparently a fan of his privacy, as instead of bushes, he'd opted for large, luscious trees on both sides of his home. There was also a gargoyle that sat at the steps that was creepy and, admittedly, pretty fucking cool.

"I'll grab your bag," Dean offered when she started towards the trunk, her eyes on the home. It seemed out of place in such an otherwise perfect location, and it intrigued her.

She didn't argue with Dean as he propped her bag up on his shoulder, making the lame joke about her bag being full of bricks.

"I can't wear the same thing for thirty days, can I?" she said sharply, annoyed that he'd brought it up.

"It's better than an orange jumpsuit, ain't it?"

"It's pretty close to jail as it is. Let's hope the food's alright."

Dean laughed. "P, Roman is a bomb-ass cook. You don't have anything to worry about in that department."

As if on cue, a huge, lumbering shadow appeared at the door, the little curtain swaying as it was pulled open from the inside. His black hair pulled back into a tight man-bun, and his beard looking grizzlier than normal, Roman gave a small smile as he appeared. His eyes held some kind of sadness, and his smile appeared forced. He opened the screen door, allowing Dean in with Paige's bags. She followed the lunatic at his heels, not saying a word as she was hit instantly with a weird mix of cologne, cookies, and maybe Lysol.

"It's good to see you, man," Dean punched the Samoan's shoulder, a goofy smirk on his face. "You going to live in a cave, or what?" he made a grab at Roman's shaggy facial hair, and the darker man swatted his hand away effortlessly. He gave a true laugh, and Paige was a little bit more at ease. She figured he'd be down in the dumps, too, but it as kind of nice to see a playful side.

"How was the drive?" Roman asked, searching his cupboards for something. In a quick sweep, he had three coffee mugs in his large hand, turning to the Keurig machine that was making a quiet whirring sound.

"Long," Dean gave a stretch.

"Only 'cause Dean-o doesn't like going the speed limit," Paige spoke for the first time. "If he did, we'd probably been here about an hour ago."

Roman gave a small smile, turning away from her. She felt her ego sag a little bit, knowing now that he was equally as excited about sharing his bachelor pad as she was.

"It wasn't that bad, though," Dean took a seat at the island-style table, accepting the black coffee that Roman had sat in front of the smaller man. "I know you made oatmeal cookies, Roman. Don't try to hide them."

Paige sat down next to Dean, accepting her own coffee. Although she didn't particularly care for it, she didn't want to start out on this arrangement on a bad foot with Roman. She saw that he'd placed a small bowl of sugar in the center of the table, though, and she dumped a whole spoonful in.

Dean watched her with a quirked eyebrow, making a face. "That's disgusting," he said when she'd decided she had enough sweetener in it.

"It's drinkable now," she responded, taking a small sip.

Roman sat opposite of them now, putting cookies in the center of the table along with the sugarbowl. Paige laughed at the sight, Roman very much reminding her of a soccer mom right now. Who would've thought that Roman Reigns did such a mom-like thing?

"What?" Dean asked after she'd let out a chuckle.

"I just...never pictured Roman being the baking type," she responded, smashing her lips together so she didn't laugh anymore. He would probably be the type of guy to get offended.

"Baby girl, there's plenty you don't know about me," he stated, not looking her in the eye. He took a drink of his own coffee, made a face, then reached for a spoonful of sugar himself.

"Pussy," Dean jeered as he bit off a chunk of cookie. Roman waved him off, as if deflecting the insult like it was being physically thrown his way. "You'll learn all kinds of fun things about Ro," Dean continued. "Good, dirty details of his private life. You'll be able to sell his secrets to websites. I can see it now: 'Roman Reigns Sleeps in the Nude!'" Dean was now roaring at his own terrible joke, and Paige shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Roman threw another cookie at the sandy-haired man.

"I will not be sleeping in the nude," Roman said to Paige, his voice steady. "And you won't find out anything about me that you didn't already know."

Paige shrugged. "Same," she responded. "Hey, do you mind showing me where I can wash up?"

"Oh, yeah. Here, follow me upstairs. You've got your own bathroom up there."

Paige followed the hulking monster up the stairs, admiring his shoulders as she walked up the smooth, hard-wood stairs. Damn, did that man have some nice muscle tone.

He passed one room with the door partially open. "That's my room. Nothing special about it, and holds no secrets about me," he walked on, and Paige figured he was implying that she ought to steer clear of his bedroom.

As if I'd ever be caught dead in it anyways!

He led her into a small room with a decent-sized bed, covered in a burgundy comforter and matching pillow shams. The curtains were a dark brown with gold, fit for a king. It was tasteful, but still masculine. A large television was mounted across the room, a large oak dresser was pushed on one side of the room, and a closet stood open on the other.

"You can put your things here, and right across the hall is your bathroom. I've got one that connects to my room, so you don't have to worry about fighting me for it." Roman walked out, leaving her to her own devices. She couldn't help but consider how awkward this was for both of them, having never really been this close in quarters with each other before.

She first fell onto the guest bed-her bed, for now-and decided that it was perfect. In fact, she could maybe even nap right now. Forcing herself up before she fell trap to the bed, Paige walked to the room that Roman had pointed as the bathroom, having a sudden urge to pee now that she saw the loo. Funny how that worked; she felt fine the whole time downtstairs, but now she was certain she was going to wet herself.


"There's gotta be another way," Roman groaned. "It's not that I don't like the girl. She's fine. But you and I both know she's a troublemaker, and the last thing I need is for Del Rio or something to be showing up here."

"Del Rio won't show up here, quit being a baby," Dean countered easily. "She is a troublemaker, and if she doesn't stay out of trouble, she's screwed. Renee was very adamant that we at least try to help her. And to be honest, I'd hate to see her get sent back to NXT. Or worse."

"Why?" Roman asked, curiously. He was also kind of annoyed that Ambrose had let his girlfriend into his mind, getting him to believe that this would be a good idea. "What has she done to earn respect of anyone...like, ever?"

"What have you done?" he jabbed a finger at the larger man. "Look, man. I put my ass on the line for you, and made every attempt to keep you where you belong. The least you can do is have a little respect for that."

Roman cracked his knuckles, a solemn look etched on his face. "I respect what you did for me. But I'm in the middle of a separation, bro. If my wife catches wind that another woman's staying here, she'll grab more of my money than she already has. Not to mention, I like the solitude of being alone in my own home. It's nice to figure out who I am all over again."

Dean made a face. "I know what you're saying, Ro. But believe me when I say, Paige doesn't want to be here, either. I know that it's not ideal, but it'll do you both good. More than you think."

Roman chuckled. "Like I said, she's nothing but trouble. I feel bad for her, and that's why I'm allowing it. I don't like it, though."

"Yeah, well, you haven't seen her like I've seen her. Drunk off her ass, prepared for a creep to shank her in an alley. Feel bad for her all you want, but the only way she's going to really get her ass on track is by serious coaching. Not to mention, she could use a stressful work-out regimen. She's losing muscle tone in her arms."

Roman sighed. "I don't like it, but fine."

"Just don't try any funny business. You know..."

Roman glared at him. "No, actually, I don't know," he said sharply. "I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole," he insisted, his voice even. He was serious. "When you know the things about her that I know, that's some dangerous territory."

"She's a clinger?" Dean jested, winking at his brother. "You know this?"

"She is, but because...well, just because."

Dean smirked, and Roman punched him in the arm. "You really ought to pay attention to people backstage sometime. Might learn a thing or two."

"Or hear complete bullshit that is far from the truth," Paige spoke, entering the room. Both men straightened up, composing themselves. Roman bit his lip, wondering how much of their conversation she'd actually heard. "Did I miss anything? A quick story about my background? An interesting rumor about what guy I've been between the sheets with?" she did a small hip movement with the last statement, similar to that of Big E Langston during promotions with the New Day.

She held up a finger when Dean began to speak. "Nah, I'm not finished. I've been pushed from one place to another like a goddamn cattle. No, it's not my first choice to be here, but it sure as hell beats sitting in a hotel room while all my friends are out and performing and having a good time afterwards. And everything that led up to me being here? Well, it's not like I can deny it, I've fucked up royally and my head's not on right. There's days when I can't even get out of bed. Days when I feel so fucking sorry for myself that I wonder how I'm getting through the day without crying. Every backstage rumor you've heard about me? Well, I can assure you, they're true. But not truth. So everything you think you know about me, everything you think you've heard? Shit's much more different than you think." Paige spoke with a bite to her, not showing any real emotions at all. "Now, as much as I'd love to see you off, Dean, I think it's better that I just don't. Give Renee my farewell. Tell her I'll be a great, law-abiding citizen and in the meantime, all personality I have will be sucked from my soul. Maybe that way, Reigns will actually get a personality."

With that, she turned on her heel, heading back upstairs to the room she'd thrown her stuff in. Now, she felt like a moody bitch, and all she wanted to do was to lay down and take a nap.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to sleep for the next thirty days.