"...and then the guy—remember, he's like Big Show size," Dean said, reaching his arm up as high as it would go in an effort to illustrate his point, "swings at Roman with this huge haymaker, but I push the guy, so it just glances off Roman," Dean says as he points to an angry bruise on Roman's cheek, "and then I hit him with a wicked uppercut! Knocked the guy out cold!" Dean finished, radiating pride.
"Well, sounds like you guys had a fun night," Seth said sarcastically as Dean let out a loud yawn.
"Yup," Dean said, almost always cheerful after a brawl.
"Alright, tough guy, let's get you to bed. We've got an early flight tomorrow," Roman said, going to his bag to pull out some pajamas. Seth and Dean followed suit. Grabbing his clothes, Seth straightened to change, but paused as he saw Dean standing frozen, staring into his bag.
"Something wrong?" Roman asked as he looked up, Dean's lack of typical rummaging chaos catching his attention.
"Someone's been in my bag," Dean said, his face growing serious as he seemed to instantly sober up.
"How do you know?" Roman asked.
"Because when you grow up as poor as I have—when every shirt or sock you have is irreplaceable—and you constantly get bullied and pranked by the other wrestlers who think it's funny to steal your stuff all the time, you learn some tricks," Dean said, his anger growing at the memories.
Roman raised his eyebrow as he asked, "What tricks?"
"Well, for instance, I pack my bag in a very specific way, so that I know if someone's been in it, and what they've taken," Dean said, looking between his two friends. "My bag is a mess."
Seth chuckled, trying to hide his nerves, "Well, with the way you fling things around, isn't it always a mess?"
"It's never a mess. I know where every single thing should be," Dean said with a sudden soberness that left no doubt to the truth of his statement. Seth was stunned, not sure how he could have missed Dean's peculiar packing habits. To anyone else, it looked as if Ambrose just tossed things into his bag without a second thought.
Growling in anger, Dean snatched up his bag and went into the bathroom, intent on finding out if anything was missing while the other two changed. Roman looked over at Seth, but said nothing; if the big man had his suspicions, he wasn't letting on.
Dean reentered the room moments later. "I'm going to call the front desk to complain. Something's missing."
Seth knew he was going to get a beat down for this, but he couldn't let some innocent hotel employee take the blame. "I did it," Seth said cautiously.
"Come again?" Dean said, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he dramatically held one hand to his ear, acting like he was trying to hear Seth better. In that instant, Seth knew he wasn't going to get off easy.
"I was the one who went through your bag," Seth admitted quietly.
Seth felt immediate relief towards Roman as the large man stepped forward, catching Dean in mid lunge. "Calm down Dean. If Rollins went through your bag, I'm sure it's for a good reason," Roman said, leveling his gaze on Seth in a way that silently said that Seth really better have a good explanation.
Seth's face reddened as he explained, "Okay, look, I was watching a show earlier, and it talked about how volcanic rocks from Hawaii become cursed if people try to take them off the islands. I know you Dean, and I know you can't help but test the limits. Turns out, I was right. You were going to bring some home."
"Oh come on! You don't really believe all that bs, do you Rollins?" Dean asked in exasperation.
Roman turned to Dean. "That true? Were you taking some home?" the big man asked, clearly uncomfortable.
Dean sighed. "Yeah, it's true. I just wanted to prove to you that you don't have to be afraid of every little superstition," Dean said to Roman.
"Well why not try to prove me wrong with a superstition that can't kill you?" Roman asked incredulously.
"I would have been fine," Dean mumbled with a shrug, "I always am."
"Not the point Ambrose," Roman said, his voice heating.
Turning his attention back to Seth, Roman asked, "So, you found them all right?"
"Yeah. I'll put them back tomorrow before we leave."
"Good," Roman said, nodding his approval. "Now let's go to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow when we're rested and Dean's sober."
"Bite me," Dean spat as he settled into bed, not even bothering to change. Immediately he spread out on top of the comforter, making it clear that he didn't intend to share a bed tonight. Sighing, Roman joined Seth instead. Snores almost instantly emanated from Dean's bed as Roman turned out the lights, rolling over to face Seth in the darkness. "Is it true?"
"Is what true Rome?" Seth asked, suddenly feeling drained now that his adrenaline had worn off.
"That they're cursed?"
Seth smiled. He had no idea how or when Roman had become so superstitious, but he'd been that way at least since Seth had known him. Reigns tried to avoid anything that could bring him bad luck, or curse him, or just cause problems for him in general. It didn't matter to him how silly the superstition sounded, he wouldn't challenge it, which, for some reason–Seth couldn't quite figure out why–made Seth want to work that much harder to protect Roman from the crazy outside world. "I don't know, but that's what the tour guide told us, remember? And that's what the TV said too," Seth answered quietly.
Roman nodded, settling in to sleep, but something kept crossing his mind, and he couldn't resist asking, "So what was in Dean's bag, anyway? I can't even imagine what he'd have in there," Roman said with a soft chuckle.
Seth smiled, "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."
"Good answer Rollins. Now both of you shut up so I can get my beauty sleep," Dean grouched, his voice muffled by a pillow. Patting Seth's shoulder gently, Roman turned over to get comfortable. "Good luck tomorrow Rollins. I wouldn't want to be you when Dean wakes up," he warned softly.
"Yeah, thanks," Seth said as he tried to get comfortable too.
The things he did for family...
Please continue on for chapter 3.