Title: My Heroes
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, OMC
Pairing: Dean/Seth/Roman
Genre: hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own the WWE.
Summary: Seth and Roman help Dean out, even if he doesn't know their names.
Word Count: 705
A.N./ Well enjoy, review, favorite, alert, all that jazz.
Jon stuck his fists into the pockets of his raggedy jeans and kept his eyes planted to the ground as he walked home. He wasn't as big or as tough or as tattooed or had served the extensive jail time as the people that hung out on the corner all he had was the small black handled switchblade and the knowledge of every major artery in the body.
"Moxley. You got my fuckin' money?" Richie or whatever the fuck the burly brown haired man's name was screamed at the small blonde. Trying to ignore him Jon pulled his hood up and put his feet to the pavement harder and faster. "I was fucking talking you, you half shit crack baby." There was a flesh brick wall between the frantic teen and his one bedroom apartment.
"I-I don't have your money. I don't have any money." His fingers traced the switchblade in his pocket.
The older man just laughed. He was laughing at him. He was fucking laughing because he was poor. Because he had to be a fucking drug mule because his mom could barely afford to pay the seemingly endless bills they had. He was laughing because Dean was too stupid to get a real job.
"Then what's that in your pocket?" Richie asked stalking into Dean's personal space.
"N-nothing, I'm just trying to get home. Please." The small blonde gripped at the handle of the knife.
"Aw, you're so pretty when you beg." His big sausage fingers where on Dean's cheek and his chest mashed against Dean's face.
He smelt rancid. The large man smelt of cheap liquor, sex, cigarettes, and the smell one acquires when you've spent that past week holed up in a basement shooting up meth.
"I'm not a faggot." Dean gritted his teeth but made no move to get away or remove the hand from his face.
"You don't have my fucking money; you are whatever the fuck I say you are." Slowly he circled his prey until he was pressed flush against Deans anterior. Trailing his fingers against Dean's skin and stopped just above the waistband of the terrified teen's jeans then he stuck his entire hand down the front of the loose blue jeans.
"Get your hands off me!" Flipping open the switchblade, Dean whirled around and swiped the blade blindly catching the larger man just below the left eye.
Stumbling back Richie touched the bleeding cut and smiled menacingly at the shaking highschooler. Charging foreword with arms extended he tackled Dean to the ground.
"Fucking useless bitch, just like your mother." Punches rained down onto the alabaster skin of Dean's face. "I swear to god if I ever fucking see you again I will kill you." Each word was punctuated with a harsh punch to the youngers face.
Stepping back from the unrecognizable heap on the concrete a harsh laugh penetrated the air. To add insult to injury Dean felt a splat of lukewarm liquid hit his cheek and he was sure it wasn't raining. Stumbling to his own feet, Dean spit blood toy the way side and stared deep into the eyes of the vile man standing across from him.
"No, you won't. You fucking pussy."
"I don't think I heard you right. What'd you just say you fucking dick?" Not waiting for an answer he charged but Dean was ready. As soon as the bear like man was within arms reach, he buried the knife in his chest up to the hilt.
For minutes, Dean sat there until a sizable pool of blood formed under him.
"Dean? Is that you?" In the distance, Dean could see the large silhouette of that kid from school Greek? Rome? And his butt-buddy Sam or something was trailing him. "Jesus kid, are you alright? Fuck, what'd you do? Seth," So that was his name. "Call the cops." Yanking his phone out on the verge of tears Seth called the police. "You wanna tell me what happened buddy?"
Dean wanted to scream and punch and tell this jackass he was not his friend much less his buddy but he was just so damn drained he just recounted the story.
"Roman, the cops should be on here soon." Roman and Seth. His fucking heroes. Who'dathunk?
Dropping to his knees beside Dean, Seth placed his arms around the shaking boy. It had been years since Dean was held in someone's arms and he cried into Seth's shoulder as they waited for the cops to show up.