Coincidental Changes

Neil had always been an early riser. He knew he went to bed a little earlier than some kids his age, like Cory, who went to bed whenever he wanted. Cory's mother didn't care what her son did, as long as he was in his room by nine o'clock. Since Cory was real little kid, he'd had a TV in his room, a computer, and usually the latest gaming system and if he spent all night playing games, watching TV or chatting on the 'net, his mom didn't care.

Neil's mom was different. She worked nights and she wanted him to get enough sleep, so his room didn't have a TV or a game system, those were in the living room. If he was sick, his mom would bring in the TV from her bedroom and hook it into his room so he could watch, but he wasn't sick very often. He had a pretty good laptop, but the rule was that at bedtime, it had to be shut off and placed outside of his bedroom when he went to bed. His mom liked him to be asleep when she left for work. She never left him alone, there was always someone spending the night with him too, sometimes one of a group of college girls from the local college mom hired, sometimes a wrestler from WVW, Uncle Jasper being there the most. They slept in the guest room and were there in case Neil needed them, although he almost never did.

Neil would wake up around five in the morning and get dressed. If the weather was good, not raining, snowing or cold, he went outside and ran ropes in his backyard wrestling ring for a bit. If the weather was bad, he would go into the shed where the work out weights were and work with them. When he was done with that, he would go into the house and take a shower. Usually whoever was watching him was still asleep, but that was okay, he wasn't a baby, he could take care of himself. After that, he would bring his laptop into his room or set it up on the kitchen table. If he was nervous about his homework, he would look it over again to make sure it was okay. Being in advanced classes could be such a pain in the butt, but his mom was insistent he "live up to his potential." Which was the same as saying, "you're smart and I won't let you pretend you're dumb." If his homework was all set, he would check his email and messages on his cell phone. There was almost always an email from his dad, along with a text message, "Sleep well, I love you!" and he'd always shoot back a reply, "Good morning, Dad, I love you too! Wrestle well!" If his dad was awake, sometimes they'd text a bit. Or he'd get on Skype and talk to him for a few minutes, which was even better. Or, sometimes Leah and Payton would be awake too by then, and they'd all talk awhile.

When his mother came home, often whoever spent the night would leave, and Neil and his mother would have breakfast, usually something quick like cereal or toast, because they didn't have a lot of time before the bus came. That was okay though, because Neil liked cereal. He liked toast too, especially toast with peanut butter. Although, if he had toast with peanut butter, his mom made him go and wash his hands, brush his teeth and change his shirt before he could leave the house, because there were a couple kids in school that had peanut allergies so bad that even smelling peanut butter on someone's breath could send them into Anaphylaxic shock, which could kill them. Neil was glad he didn't have allergies like that. The worst he ever got was a runny nose when it was ragweed season.

It was rare that this routine ever changed, especially when school was in session. His mother didn't work in the summer or school vacations, unless it was an emergency, but when school was in session, this was how it worked. He would say good night to his mother, sleep, wake up and do his thing, and then see his mother about half an hour before he had to be at the bus stop, which was right at the end of the street.

So, he was a little surprised when he woke up one morning, got dressed for running the ropes, and saw his mother in the kitchen, making breakfast. "Mom?" he rubbed his eyes, hoping he wasn't having a dream and was really still asleep in bed, but he didn't think so, it didn't feel like a dream.

She turned from the stove. "Hey, Neil!"

Her voice was bright and cheerful, but there was something in her eyes that Neil wasn't sure of. He knew his mom pretty well, usually knew when she was pretending to be happy when she was sad, but this was something new and he wasn't sure what it was. "Hi Mom," he said, then asked, "Why are you home, are you okay?"

"I wasn't feeling well, so they let me go early," Cinnamon explained, as she turned back to the stove.

"Are you sick?" He bit his lower lip, frowning. His mom almost never got sick. Once in awhile, she got a cold, but when she did, she just took something for it and continued.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "I was just got a little light headed and rather than risk me getting someone else sick, if I'm coming down with something, they got someone to cover the rest of my shift and let me go home." She turned again from the stove and seeing the worried look on Neil's face, smiled warmly. "I'm fine, Neil, don't worry so much about me."

So, Neil didn't run the ropes or work out with the weight that morning. Instead he went and took his shower and by the time he was done, Mom was serving up scrambled eggs and pancakes, which was one of his favorite weekend breakfasts. While they were eating, Shay, the college girl who had been spending the night got up and came out. Neil's mom offered her breakfast, but she declined, saying that since Cinnamon was home, she'd just leave so she could go to the library before classes. Cinnamon paid her for watching Neil, and she left.

They were pretty much done with breakfast, just drinking their juice, when Cinnamon asked him, "Neil, how would you feel about moving?"

Neil put his glass down and looked at her. "We're moving?"

Cinnamon shook her head. "No, I didn't say we were moving, I was asking you how you'd feel about moving." She looked around the kitchen. "This place… well, it's kind of small."

Neil frowned, his brows furrowing. His mom usually said their house was cozy and just right. The only time she ever seemed to worry about the lack of size was when they were having a lot of people over for dinner, as they had done last Thanksgiving and the Thanksgiving before, but she always worked it out. When his father moved in, Neil had wondered for a bit if he might think the house was too small and simple, but Dean never seemed to mind at all. In fact, like him and Neil thought, like his mom, Neil's dad seemed to like the house and even more so, like the neighborhood. "Where would we move to?" Neil asked, feeling a little bewildered.

"Again, I didn't say we were moving," Cinnamon said, smiling, but Neil had the feeling the smile was a little forced. "But, if we did move, we'd stay in the same area. They're building those houses a few miles away, they're much bigger, maybe we would move there."

Neil frowned, knowing the area his mom was talking about. It was down the road, quite a bit further past the old farmhouse, which used to be his thinking spot, but wasn't anymore, since he'd fallen in the well and broke his leg. His mom made him promise, and not just promise, but cross-your-heart-hope-to-die, stick-a-needle-in-your-eye promise, he'd never go back there again unless he was with one of his parents. Since having your parents along sort of defeated the purpose of having a thinking spot, he'd never been back there. Now when he needed to be alone to think, he made do with his wrestling ring, or found someplace else to think. But he had been in the car with his mom and drove past those houses his mother was talking about. Yes, they were much bigger than this house, but they all looked identical. All white siding on the top and brick looking siding on the bottom. Mom said they had an HOA there, and while Neil wasn't sure what an HOA was, he knew it meant that every house had to be exactly the same as the house next to it. I'd probably get lost and try to go into the neighbor's house if we moved there, Neil thought. He liked their neighborhood where all the houses looked different. Some were white, some were blue, some were cream, one was even a light purple. There were three styles, ranch, like theirs, cape cod, and colonial, but some of the ranch houses, like his, had covered porches in the front, some just had a small deck, some just had stairs that went to the door. Some of the cape cods had dormer windows, some didn't. Each house was at least a little different. And more important, Neil knew every single person who lived in all those houses and except for Pete Spencer, he liked everyone who lived in all these different houses. He had the feeling that if they moved to the new houses, everyone would be identical. And after awhile of living there, Neil would start to change and look just like they did and his Mom too. "I don't like those houses," he finally said. "They look stamped."

His mom looked at him and frowned too, but she nodded. She really couldn't disagree with him, she had said the same thing when they had passed them and more than once. "I know, but they are bigger."

"The people who live there are probably snotty," Neil continued. "They probably drive BMW's and work nine to five and hate wrestling."

Cinnamon smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't think they'd all hate wrestling, but you're right, from the sizes and prices of the places, they are probably all white collar and middle to upper middle class. There's nothing wrong with that, you know."

"I know, but I like it here," Neil said stubbornly. "I know everyone. If we moved there, Cory would be too far away for me to bike to his house, so would Sam, Marcus, and Javier."

"You'd see them in school," Cinnamon pointed out.

"It's not the same," Neil said. "So, if we don't have to move, I'd rather not. I like this house, I like this street." He looked at his mother, studying her carefully. "We don't have to move, right?"

"Well, certainly not today, we don't." Cinnamon laughed, ruffled his hair, and then looked at the clock. "Finish your orange juice, you don't have that much time before you have to get going and I know you'll want to text your father, if you haven't already. I'll clean up the breakfast dishes." And with that, she stood up, grabbing their plates, which was a further way of her letting Neil know the discussion was closed.

Neil just hoped it meant that the whole idea of moving was closed, too.

Leah could hear her mother singing in the kitchen from her bedroom as she walked down the stairs. Her mom was more of a morning person than her dad was, but even this was a little more cheerful than she usually was. She hurried down the stairs and walked into the "great room" which was their combination family room, kitchen, and dining room. Jessica was at the stove, making eggs from the looks of it, and singing along with the radio, some song about being the happiest person on earth.

"Morning, Mama."

Jessica turned from the stove, quickly, with a little style to the turn as if she were doing a dance move. "Leah-belle!" she called out, as if having Leah walk into the kitchen was the best thing that could ever happen as she reached over to turn down the radio. "You ready for school? I'm making happy eggs!"

Happy eggs were Leah's toddler name for "Sunny side up," and while they were still her favorite way to have eggs, Leah had long ago abandoned calling them, "happy eggs." She was tempted to remind her mother that she was no longer a baby, but, seeing that her mother looked so joyful, she changed her mind and nodded. "That sounds good."

"Why don't you pour yourself some juice," Jessica suggested. "And pour some for me too, baby."

"Okay," Leah said, going to the refrigerator and taking out the pitcher of orange juice that was in there. Her mother never bought orange juice, if she could help it, instead she bought oranges and put them in the juicer, sometimes adding other fruit if the oranges seemed a little too tart or too sweet. When her dad was home, they could go through a pitcher of orange juice in a day, sometimes even less than a day, but when it was just Leah and her mom, the small pitcher lasted at least a day. She brought the pitcher over to the table, that had already been set, another difference from most mornings, usually it was Leah's job to set the table.

When they were sitting down and starting breakfast, Leah decided to ask her mother if something special was going on. "You seem really happy today, Mom. What's up?"

Jessica smiled, picking up her English muffin and reaching for the strawberry jam. Leah thought it was funny, but all three of them, her parents and herself, liked different things on their English muffins. Mom would only eat them with strawberry jam. Her dad liked them with grape jelly or sometimes even peanut butter. Leah's opinion was that English muffins should only be served with applesauce on them. No butter, just applesauce, preferably homemade cinnamon apple sauce. "What's not to be happy about? It's a beautiful day, and I'm having a wonderful breakfast with my favorite daughter."

Leah grinned, but shook her head. "Mom, I'm your only daughter."

"That doesn't mean you can't be my favorite," Jessica countered.

"It also means I'm your least favorite," Leah shot back, but she was still grinning.

"Never! You are too wonderful to be least at anything!" She shook her head, then abruptly changed the subject. "The pay per view is next weekend, I'll bet you can't wait to see your daddy."

Leah grinned and nodded. "Are Uncle Seth and Uncle Dean's families coming too?"

"I think so," Jessica said. "And we'll spend some time with them, of course, but at least one night, we'll probably have dinner with just the three of us. Is that okay?"

Leah frowned. Most of the time, the three families seemed to spend all their time together while awake. She didn't mind the idea of having dinner alone with her mother and father but it wasn't normal, at least not planned out this way. Sometime it happened, but it wasn't discussed first. "Sure," she said. "Is there a special reason?"

"No," Jessica said, shaking her head, then stopped. "Well, we might have something to talk about. We'll see."

"What are we going to have to talk about?" Leah asked, instantly curious.

"Nothing to worry about," Jessica assured her, then looked at Leah's plate. "Finish your breakfast, if you want a chance to text with your dad before school."

Leah knew the subject was dropped and no amount of begging and pleading would make her mother tell her. Guess I gotta wait, she told herself, then opening the jar of apple sauce, began putting some on her muffins.

Something was off with Mum, that morning and Payton couldn't put her finger on it. When she had come down for breakfast, everything seemed fine. They were having oatmeal with toast that morning, which was a good breakfast, although Payton would have preferred waffles with fruit. But, oatmeal was good for you, and her mum insisted she have it for breakfast at least once a week, which was perfectly normal, so that wasn't it.

They ate breakfast, and about half way through, Payton realized that she had done most of the talking that morning, telling her mother about school, about the test she had in math that day, which she wasn't worried about, because she'd been doing really good with math lately. Normally, Mum would have a lot to say, would have asked her if she was sure she was ready for the test, and asked about what type of math it was. Today though, she just said, "that's good, I'm sure you'll do well." That wasn't Mum. Normally, Mum was on the other side of things, usually a little too interested in Payton's school work.

Then, about half way through breakfast, Mum excused herself and ran to the bathroom, which wasn't like her, either. When she came back, though, she told Payton she was fine, she just had suddenly had to go. "Are you sick?" Payton asked her.

"No," Kayla said, smiling brightly, but there was still something… hidden about her expression. "Finish your breakfast, we have to leave to get you to school, my little Paytibear."

And Payton had smiled and dug into her oatmeal, pleased that Mum used "her" special nickname for Payton. Her da called her Pay-pay, but Mum called her Paytibear, and she liked that both of them had special and different nicknames for her. It made her feel special. Her mom and dad had never called her anything but Payton or Pay, and when they called her Pay, it didn't feel like a nickname, it just felt like they didn't have the time or the energy to call her by her whole name. Unlike Preston, who had a million nicknames it seemed, Pres, Pres, my man, Little Man Preston, and Boss Man Preston, just to name a few. Payton liked that now she had parents who thought she was special enough to deserve special nicknames. So, she finished her oatmeal, feeling warm and fuzzy and for a bit, forgot about how Mum was acting.

But then, when they were driving to school, her mum went the route they usually took, which would be fine, but there was construction going on, so they got tied up in traffic. This was something that could happen to just about anyone, but not to Payton's mum. Kayla kept up on those things, she checked the internet for up and coming construction projects in areas she drove around a lot and always planned alternate routes. And there had been a sign warning that construction was to begin that day, a sign that had been up for weeks, and she still forgot. Fortunately, since it was the first day of the construction, they didn't get hung up too long and Payton got to school on time. Not enough time to hang out with some of the other kids for a bit, but enough time to get to her classroom. But, in the rush to make sure she wasn't late, Kayla didn't ask her for her cell phone, which was the rule, no phone in school and Payton hadn't thought to just hand it to her. It wasn't until she was sitting in her classroom, that she felt the phone in the pocket of her pants.

Payton looked around the classroom nervously as her teacher was taking attendance. Payton knew she had to turn off her phone before someone texted her, or worse, called her. The rule in school was that if you were caught talking on your cell phone, they took it away from you and you couldn't get it back until one of your parents came in with you and then you'd get a lecture about how cell phones were not allowed in the classroom. That had never happened to Payton, but it had to a few of her other classmates. And while Payton knew she would likely not get any calls on her phone while she was in school, her da was likely to text her. Usually when she left school she had a half a dozen texts from Da, just little reminders that he was thinking about her and loved her, or maybe a picture of something he saw that he thought would interest her. She couldn't risk the phone getting her in trouble, so she sat up straight and raised her hand.

"Yes, Payton?" the teacher looked at her, expectantly.

"Ms. Tanner, can I please go to the girl's room?" Payton asked, which for some reason, made some people in the class giggle, which was something Payton never understood. What was so funny about peeing? Everyone did it.

"Is it that urgent that you can't wait for recess?" Ms. Tanner asked, frowning. "You should have gone before the bell rang."

Payton liked Ms. Tanner, she was a little strict as a teacher, but fair. For a moment, she was tempted to blurt out that her mum got caught in traffic that morning and thus they had just managed to get to school on time, but she thought that might be too much information. "I know, Ms. Tanner," she said, "And I'm sorry, but I didn't have to go until just now!" Which wasn't a lie when you thought about it. If she'd realized she still had her phone on her when she'd walked into the school, she would have ducked into the bathroom and shut it off before she went to her classroom. Still, that made the kids giggle even harder and she really wished they'd all stop being so… so… immature.

Ms. Tanner paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Just be quick about it, we have our math test today."

"Take as long as you want!" one of her classmates, Tony Compton called out, which earned him a very stern look from Ms. Tanner and a few giggles from his other classmates. Tony was notoriously bad at math.

"I'll be very quick," Payton promised and rose from her seat, hurrying out the door.

When she got to the girl's room, she ducked into one of the stalls, just in case someone came in, like a teacher or something, and caught her with the phone. Once she had the door shut, she pulled out her phone and was about to shut it off, when she saw she had bars. She frowned, sitting down on the toilet. She had never sent a text while at school before and she knew it was against the rules, but then again, she was worried about her mum, Kayla just wasn't being, well, Kayla.

She decided that sometimes you had to break the rules and this was one of those times. She quickly typed out a text, "Da, I'm worried about Mum. I think something is wrong." She wanted to write more, wanted to write about all the things, the way she hadn't cared much about the math test Payton had, or didn't realize there was construction going on, or how she had run to the bathroom while they were eating breakfast, but she realized that would take too long. She knew there were words that would explain this better, but she just didn't know what they were and she didn't have the time to think about it. This will have to be it, she thought and hit send. Once the message was sent, she shut her phone down.

Then, just in case there was a teacher outside the door to the bathroom, she flushed the toilet, left the stall, washed and dried her hands and returned to her class.

Shield had been officially back together and back on Raw and SmackDown for about five weeks and their popularity was soaring better than anyone could imagine. None of the three of them held a belt, none of them were King of the Ring, but it didn't matter, the three of them were the answer to the Authority, they were the big dogs in the yard. Technically, they were faces, although some of their tactics were pretty heelish, but it didn't matter. It seemed that as far as the WWE Universe was concerned, the three of them could do nothing wrong.

And while they were delighted and grateful for this second chance to make the Shield into something that would even eclipse the popularity of their first run, this success came at a price and the price was time. They'd taken a great vacation an entire month for the three of them, and their families, alone on an island smack in the middle of a private lake right after they announced that Shield was back together. Even though the first half of the vacation had been a little shaky, their wives getting fed up at having to cook and clean for all of them, and taking off for week of "Girls time" leaving the three men to fend for themselves and the kids, the second half had been a small slice of paradise. But when they had returned to their jobs, they had returned with a vengeance. Working for the WWE normally meant very little free time for yourself, but with their popularity, "very little" shifted down the scale to "pretty much, none." Nights when they could get four hours of sleep were considered a treat and the three of them were getting used to grabbing cat naps in waiting rooms or airport terminals.

It was while taking one of these cat naps, this one while waiting to go on to a local sports show, Dean's phone buzzed, pushing him into wakefulness. He sat up and pulled it out of his pocket, seeing he had a new text. With the practiced ease of someone who constantly sent and received messages, he clicked on it, and was delighted to see it was from Neil, until he read the message.

"Dad, I don't want to move."

Dean stared at the message, wondering exactly what it meant. Neil didn't want to move. Okay, why did Neil not want to move? He checked the time, knowing he was on the same time zone as his son, and if he remembered correctly, Neil should be at the bus stop, or possibly even boarding the bus for school. Why would his son not want to board the bus? "Is there a rattle snake or something?" he texted back.

There was a fairly long pause and Dean wondered why didn't Neil want to move? He itched to hit the phone and actually call him, but forced himself not to do that. If there was something that made Neil afraid to move, maybe a ringing phone would make the situation worse. At least he can text me, Dean thought, then wondered if that was a good idea. If it was a rattle snake or a hornets nest or something like that, wouldn't movement be likely to aggravate the situation? Maybe he shouldn't have texted Neil, maybe he'd put Neil in further danger!

Finally, another message came through. "No, Dad, I mean I don't want to move from our house."

Dean breathed a sign of relief, glad that his son wasn't in any danger, then stared at the text again. Why would Neil text him to let him know he didn't want to move out of their house? That didn't make any sense, either. "Okay," he texted back, "there's nothing wrong with not wanting to move."

The return message came much faster now, "I think Mom might want to move."

Another puzzle, why did Cinnamon want to move? When they had first gotten back together, Dean had mentioned a couple times that financially, they didn't have to live in that neighborhood, that they could afford to live almost anywhere. That if Cinnamon and Neil wanted to, they could buy some land in West Virginia, acres of the stuff, and have a house custom made for them. Cinnamon had vetoed that idea pretty quickly, telling Dean that while their house wasn't big, or fancy, it was cozy and the neighborhood was full of friends who they saw almost as an extended family, so no, she had no desire to leave and neither did Neil. Having gotten to know the neighbors himself, Dean was in complete agreement. So, given that all three of them liked the house, loved the neighborhood, why had Cinnamon suddenly been talking about moving? "Did she say why she wants to move?" Dean finally typed back.

"She said the house was small," came the reply, and then a flood of text. Neil could text like the wind when he wanted. Dean admired that. Every time he thought he was getting pretty good at this technology thing, Neil proved that in this situation at least, Neil was the master and Dean was a mere child. "She said if we moved down to where those new fancy houses are being built we'd have a bigger house. But, Dad, I don't want to move there. Those places are stupid! They all look alike and everyone who lives in them are probably jerks. I don't want to move!"

"If you don't want to move to those places, we won't," Dean typed back, not sure what else to say. He still felt clueless as to why this was even a discussion.

"Thanks, Dad. Bus is here, gotta go."

Dean knew that Neil would turn off his phone when he got on the bus, that was one of the rules of the school, although Dean thought it was a stupid one. Who cared if the kids were using their phones on the bus? Today he thought it was an even stupider rule, because he wanted to find out more about this moving thing. He stared at his phone, about to put it in his pocket, when he remembered that it indeed was a phone, not just a device for texting, and in this situation, that could be useful. He looked at the time again and realized he had another hour before they would need to be on the set. He stood up. "I'm going to go find a quiet place and call Cinnamon," he muttered, heading for the door. "I won't go too far, I promise."

"Be back before we have to be on the set," Seth mumbled, still half asleep.

"Give Cinnamon my best," Roman said, and closed his eyes.

Dean answered both of them with the same, "I will" and walked out of the green room.

After Dean had left, Roman tried to drift back off to sleep again, but found he couldn't. Some mix up in communications had lead to them being brought to the studio well before they were needed, which was irritating. However, having only gotten about two hours of sleep the night before, the three of them were going to make the best of it and nap in the green room until they were needed, but, now that Dean had woken up and left to call Cinnamon, Roman found he couldn't get back to that half napping, half awake stage he had been at before, and pulled out his own phone. He found he had a few texts from Leah and pulled them up on the screen.

Morning Daddy! I love you!

That was the first one, and he smiled. Because times to communicate were often scarce, it wasn't uncommon for Leah to leave a bunch of texts at various points in her day and Roman continued to the next one.

Is everything okay?

The two texts were sent awhile ago, and spaced five minute apart. Roman thought that Leah must have been hoping he'd be able to answer her. Obviously, she realized that wasn't going to happen, because she left another text.

Mom says when we come out for the PPV, that we need to talk as a family, alone and stuff. Is everything okay?

Another few minutes before the next message.

I guess you're busy. I gotta go to school, love you, Dad!

Roman frowned, disappointed he hadn't caught her before she left for school, and puzzled at her messages. This was the first he'd heard of this "family talk," thus he had no idea what was going on. He looked at the time and realized that if he called right now, he could catch Jessica before she went to work. He rose from his seat and looked at Seth. "I'm gonna call Jess," he said.

Seth was sitting in an overstuffed arm chair, head tipped back, eyes half open. "Okay," he mumbled. "Be back in time."

"I will."

After Roman left, Seth straightened up, realizing that he wasn't so sleepy after all. The two interruptions from his teammates had put a stop to his nap and he might as well face that. Sighing, he pulled out his own phone to see if he had any messages and found one from Payton.

Da, I'm worried about Mum. I think something is wrong.

A quick glance at the time the message was sent told Seth it had been sent while Payton was supposed to be in school, in her classroom. Why would Payton be sending him a message when she was supposed to be in school? That wasn't like Payton at all and the rule was that Payton did not take her phone to school. So, was she home? He found himself checking the school website to see if it was a holiday or a half day, and found out that no, school was in session today, a normal day. Was Payton sick? And if she was sick, why was she worried about Kayla?

The room was empty, Roman and Dean having left to make their phone calls. Seth didn't hesitate, he called Kayla on her cell phone, determined to find out what was going on.

Roman returned first, just as Seth was disconnecting from his talk with Kayla, feeling a bit dazed at what she had told him. She had explained her distractions and her reasons were solid and valid and had blown Seth's mind. He stared at Roman for a moment, his brain trying to work all of this out, not even noticing that Roman had an almost goofy grin on his face.

The two of them looked at each other for three seconds, then both opened their mouths at the same time as if to speak, but then the door opened and Dean came rushing in. "Guys, you are not going to believe this, I was just talking to-"

Before Dean could finish, the assistant from the show was coming in, right behind him, making it clear they needed to get miked up and out on the set right away. For a moment, it looked as if Dean might blurt out his news anyway, then he shrugged and said he'd wait until after the interview.

Seth would realize a few days later, that the interview was off, although he didn't think it had been caught by anyone but him. At least nobody at the WWE complained that they were off, but when he watched the interview on You Tube, he could just tell. Of course, by then he knew the reasons and it made sense.

Since Shield had reformed, Roman had gone back to being the quieter muscle of the group. He wasn't as quiet as he'd been the first time Shield had formed, when they were trying to work on his mike presence, he'd gotten better at that, but with Shield, his best role seemed to be the less talkative muscle of the group, the one who nodded and when he did speak you found yourself thinking whatever he was saying must be very important. But on this interview, he was close to completely silent. They were supposed to be discussing the latest storyline, in which they had been getting some help from the Wyatts. Exactly how this would play out, if it would later be found that Shield had hired the Wyatts, or if the Wyatts would be helping them for another twisted purpose, hadn't been revealed but right now, the orders were to act as if this situation was just as puzzling to them as it was to everyone else. Roman's silence might have been played off as worry and not wanting to give out speculation, rather than facts, but anyone who knew Roman well would have seen that Roman was distracted, and several times, when he thought the cameras weren't focused on him, he had an almost goofy grin on his face, as if someone had promised him a treat when this was done, and he couldn't wait to get it.

Dean, who usually did do a fair bit of talking, was doing just that, talking a blue streak, but it wasn't his usual scowling talking. Instead, there was something bright and almost too animated about him, as if just under the surface, he was finding this whole situation a lark. That might have worked for The Lunatic Fringe, but it didn't work on the guy that was supposed to be upset about the corruption and injustice running rampant in the WWE, corruption and injustice that they were supposed to eliminate.

And, Seth wasn't going to spare himself either. He was supposed to be the architect, the planner, the cerebral one of the group, who always had his ducks in a row, always knew what the next move was, even if he didn't share that information. Seth felt he'd come off on this interview like he had way too much on his mind and at that moment, didn't give a damn about Shield.

Which, if he had to be honest with himself, was the absolute truth at that moment, but he was supposed to be a professional and this was not acting professional at all.

He was glad it took him until he'd seen the interview to realize how badly they messed up, because if he'd realized it then, his brain might have exploded. Instead, he was just so grateful when they were done and allowed to leave, the three of them piling in the car that would take them to the arena they'd be performing in that night. He wanted some time to think about what was going on, but he also was hoping he could tell his brothers what was going on, why he was so distracted.

They were barely in the car when Dean started bouncing on the seat like a kid who had just heard the juiciest gossip and couldn't wait to share it. "I've got some big news!" he said.

Roman looked at him, puzzled. "What a coincidence, so do I."

"It can't be bigger than my news," Dean disagreed.

"Oh, yes it can, and it is," Roman said, getting that goofy grin he'd been sporting on and off since he got off the phone with Jessica.

"No way," Dean argued, "My news is huge! My news might be the biggest news, ever!"

"Mine is huge too!" Roman said stubbornly, but also still grinning as if he were waiting for someone to give him some ice cream.

Seth was sitting across from them in the limo and he glared at both of them, in no mood for them to argue. "I don't care what's going on with both of you, I can top it." Without giving them a chance to argue, he plunged on, knowing he had the top news of the group. "Kayla is pregnant."

"You mean Cinnamon," Dean said, brows furrowing.

"No, you mean Jessica," Roman said.

The three men stared at each other, for a moment as if they couldn't make sense of what was being said, then slowly, like water tricking out of a defective faucet, the situation began to dawn on them. Their stares got wider, yet they remained silent. Could it be? Was it true?

Dean finally broke the silence. "Roman, are you saying Jess is pregnant?"

Roman nodded. "Yeah, she told me on the phone just before we went on the air. She's about six weeks along. We're figuring it happened while all of us were on vacation, the timing is right.

"That's what Cinnamon and I figure too!" Dean said, his voice getting more and more excited with every word. "She's pregnant, she told me when I called her before the interview and if I just heard Seth right… Seth, are you telling me Kayla's pregnant, too?"

Seth had continued staring at both men, listening, but still trying to process it. But when Dean asked him directly, he found himself nodding, then he found his voice. "Y-yeah," he said softly. "She is. She figures she's about six weeks along too."

"Holy shit," Dean said, half shouting, half laughing. "This means we're all gonna have these kids about the same time!"

The end?

Authors Notes: :::Embarrassed grin::: Err, I know, I was supposed to write a vacation story that somehow never got written. I don't know why, but every time I try to write it, I end up drawing a blank. So, I thought I'd leave it and go back to it, but I realized that the future of my world depended on that vacation. For reasons you probably have guessed. All three families are going to grow a little larger.

This story was sort of meant to be the epilogue of the vacation story, but it ended up being a story in itself. I still have hopes of someday going back to the vacation story, but at least I feel I can go on now. And while this story is finished, the adventure isn't over, not by a long shot. We'll see how Dean and Seth handle helping to raise a child they have from the start, rather than after they're walking, talking, and toilet trained.

Thank you so much for reading this far. If you wanted to take the time to let me know what you thought, I'd really appreciate it. I've got some awesome readers and I want you to know if it wasn't for your reviews, both on my story or in private, I would not still be writing for this fandom. You folks are the best.