Hi all, so a little bit earlier than I promised on this one, because, well, because I'm nice. I'll try and get these up as often as I can but work has gone to hell at the moment and so it might just have to be once a week. Certainly not longer, so just bare with me and thank you to everyone who's reviewed.

Wrestlechic1, that's an interesting suggestion. I hadn't really thought of that. I'm just generally not comforting writing about wrestler's real life loved ones, so being vague seemed a good way around that! Glad you're enjoying it.

Raze Olympus, aww, glad you're loving it! Like I said, I'll try and be a little faster if I can.

Ohana1337, Thank you so much. I really loved writing grumpy, bitter Dean!

Andrew27King, LOL, that just struck me as something he would say! Glad you liked it.

Okay, here we go!

Naggin' Woman

The first thing he saw was the big black saloon car parked up outside his apartment building, it's tinted windows glinting in the moonlight and easily outpricing the other vehicles around.

Then he saw Stephanie.

She was standing, arms folded on the stoop by the door and it was obvious that she was waiting for him and had been for some time.

Dean's step slowed as he got towards her and he let out a weary sounding groan.

"Ugh come on. You here for round two? Didn't think the boys would be able to get the job done so you decided to come here and convince me yourself?"

He stomped up the steps with a frown of dissention and brushed past her as he pulled out his keys. Stephanie moved up behind him and then – sure enough – followed him inside as he pushed open the door. She never had been one for taking subtle cues from people, be it body language, tone or all-out fucking glares.

It came with being the boss Dean supposed.

"I don't need to convince you Ambrose," she offered coolly, shadowing him across the foyer as he went to collect his mail, "Why would I when I can just order you to do it?"

"I quit, remember?"

"Which isn't how it works. You signed a contract and that contract states that for the next fourteen days, you are still mine."

Dean slammed shut his mailbox and shrugged at her lightly,

"Yeah, I'm not doing that."

Stephanie smiled,

"Really? Because I have a team of lawyers that say different. Don't make me sue your sorry ass Dean, it would really dent this working dynamic we've managed to build up over the years."

For a second he merely glared at her, testing her resolve and whether or not she would follow through on her threat. The fact she wasn't blinking was not a good sign because it meant that she was serious.

As in deadly.

Shit.

"What do you want Steph?"

"You know what I want."

"And you know I can't do it."

"Ambrose – ,"

"Please Stephanie. Just – don't."

Despite his intentions, the words came out pleading and desperate and broken and a million things at once. Which was clearly the last thing his boss had been expecting considering how quickly she seemed to soften up.

She wasn't letting go though – no way, no how – and as they stood in awkward silence, she re-folded her arms,

"Are you going to invite me up for a drink?"

"Don't have much these days."

"I'll take what I can get."

Knowing that it was almost pointless to argue, Dean shrugged his shoulders and let out a sigh. It wasn't exactly a hey, come on up but if nothing else it was a sullen suit yourself.

Stephanie could live with that.

They took the stairs in silence and so far apart that to the casual observer they didn't look together. The only time that he even briefly acknowledged her was when he paused to hold open the door to the hallway, before turning and leading them towards his apartment which was located halfway along the third floor.

Once inside, Dean stripped off his jacket and tried his hardest not to flip out. As if the day hadn't already been hard enough, now he had to play fucking host to his boss. His very demanding, bitchy boss who was trying to strong-arm him into a job.

There was no earthly way that his life could get weirder and –

Oh god.

Why the hell had he decided not to wash up? Scooting further into the apartment ahead of her, Dean swept up his dinner plate and the morning's empty bowl, slaloming the counter to drop them both into the sink. Behind him Stephanie stepped into the living room and looked around brightly,

"This is your place?"

Dean blinked back at her, his answer silent, but his expression speaking volumes in return,

Is there a problem?

"No," Stephanie shook her head, "It's nice, it's just more homey than I figured you for."

In particular she was talking about the various soft furnishings from the cushions to the fringed throw, the candles and the lamps. The room was inviting and warm and kind of delicate. In short, it had a woman's touch.

There was a sideboard in the corner with a picture frame on it and inside it was a photograph of Dean's former girl. She was laughing – in the middle of trying to take a selfie – but Dean had clearly dived in to give her a kiss and as a result the pair were squashed together looking blissful and happy and totally in love. It was tragic really. She had been so good for him and her death had nearly destroyed him in turn.

Following her gaze, Dean's expression clouded over and he glanced down at his hands as if not sure what to say,

"I tried to – uh – I tried to keep it the same. I mean, it's not as tidy or as clean or whatever but – ,"

"You know what Ambrose? I'd say you've done just fine. Now, what about that drink I was promised? Are you going to keep me waiting all night?"

Just like that they were swiftly back to business and Dean snorted wryly, relieved to be off the hook. He had never been good at the emotional side of things. He was basically an ostrich with his head in the ground. Crying and hugging wasn't really his deal but pouring a drink? Now that he could do.

"Promised? I didn't even fuckin' invite you up here. You steamrollered me into it. No – wait – you threatened me."

He'd crossed the room as he'd been delivering his missive and had come to a halt beside a low shelf. There was a clinking as he began to sort through bottles, before eventually pulling something out.

Remy Martin.

Stephanie shrugged.

It was better than nothing besides which she didn't really want to push her luck. So instead she sat silently, watching him pour a glass for her, before finally drawing the conversation back.

"I didn't send them after you, you know – Seth and Roman – they found you on their own. I mean, I assumed they would do but it wasn't an order, if that's what you're thinking? They care about you."

Dean snorted loudly and flopped down on the sofa, choosing the same cushion he had done for a year. Once upon a time it had been her seat and sometimes he imagined that he could still smell her perfume, caught in the fibres.

Not today though.

"Yeah well, maybe Roman but as for Seth – that little weasel doesn't know the fuckin' word."

"Don't be too hard him on him – ,"

"He put me in the hospital."

"You know yourself he was a desperate man."

The fact that Steph's answer was eerily placid made Dean's temper instantly hitch up by a notch. What the hell was it with all these people? Seemingly willing to forget what Seth had done. He had broken their trust. He had hurt and betrayed them and suddenly everything was – what – okay?

Well it wasn't in his world, that was for certain and his eyes flashed danger as he hotly looked up,

"So you're on his side?"

"No – ,"

"I think I'd like my drink back."

Stephanie rolled her eyes in return and held on to her glass of alcohol tighter,

"For god sakes stop being such a damn child. I'm not taking his side but I'm not taking yours either. Yes, Seth attacked you and he should never have done that and it was a horrible, terrible betrayal for you. But both of us know what was going on behind it – Hunter had him deep in his control and until you've experienced that and been in its clutches, you have no idea how powerful that can be."

It was the first time Stephanie had said his name in ages and as she did she couldn't help but flinch.

The sound of his name was physically painful and the memories – well – the memories were worse. It was a complex jumbled soup of emotions and encompassed everything from anger right back to love. How was it possible to adore and loathe someone? To want to forgive them but never see them again? Stephanie started to breathe a little quicker and it took her a moment to push the thoughts back down again.

Throughout the storm, Dean watched her closely and for the first time he realized that they were still in the same boat. The only person who could get what he was going through – the only person – was Stephanie McMahon and while their situations were different, the only person who could get her was him.

In response Dean simply sunk back against the cushions and waited for his boss to regain her control. It only took a matter of seconds but when she looked up she was Stephanie again, which meant that instead of looking tearful or awkward, she cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink,

"You alright?" Dean asked her gruffly, if only because he thought he should, "You – need anythin'?"

Stephanie didn't answer him – not directly anyway – but since the topic of conversation remained identical, Dean took that as a silent I'm fine. The woman was a McMahon after all and their emotional depth was hardly renowned.

On that front it probably mirrored his own.

"You know," Stephanie started, startling him slightly, "You're lucky to get this chance with Seth."

Dean frowned darkly.

"How d'ya figure that?"

"Because it proves he's serious about being forgiven. He wants to make amends for what he's done wrong. That's not something you can say about everyone. Some people aren't willing to admit their mistakes – no matter how glaring or obvious they are."

Dean glanced across at her, reading her silently,

"Still gettin' bitchy letters from Hunter?"

Her head shot up,

"How did you – ,"

"I know things."

Things like the fact that his boss' ex-husband had been sending her threats for almost three years, which technically should have been basically impossible since the fucker was locked up tight in jail. But that was the thing with Hunter Hearst Helmsley, he was damn charismatic and convincing as well. After all, if he could get Seth to do his bidding then a couple of prison guards would have been easy as hell.

Back when Dean had first joined the academy, The Authority – as they had called themselves – were at the forefront of the force. Lead by Stephanie in her new post as commissioner and backed up by two respected senior staff. Batista and Orton had been damn well policing legends. City cops had practically whispered their names.

Not so much anymore.

Then there was Hunter. Stephanie's husband and the undisputed head of The Authority power-tree. Not only had he been from a family of detectives but he had also been the long-standing DA and that position had given him influence over everyone from the mayor to his wife. In short they had looked both clean and unstoppable.

Until three years ago when it had fallen apart.

Thanks to Seth's betrayal – well not thanks to but because of it – their crooked dealings had been exposed. But along with the breakdown of The Shield in the process, their boss had very nearly lost her job. No one in the city – literally no one – had been able to believe that she just hadn't known and it had taken her time and a whole lot of hard work to prove that she was still right for the role.

Seth's testimony on her innocence had helped as well.

Actually, Seth had done quite a lot –

Including hitting him in the head with a chair.

Don't forget that Dean. He's no good.

In the silence Stephanie sighed just a little and it was obvious that she was mulling over the same thoughts as well. Taking another long sip of her alcohol, she turned to towards him defiantly,

"Make up."

Dean blinked back at her,

"What?"

"Make it up with Seth."

"Is that an order?"

"No you idiot, it's a request. Make up with Seth and then let go of it. Don't end up alone and bitter like me. Trust me, it isn't a great place to be at and – frankly – you deserve a hell of a lot more."

It was easily the nicest thing she'd ever said to him and because of that Dean's response was borderline alarm. The whole thing was crazy – getting The Shield back together – although suddenly he knew what it was about. Because, sure, okay, the crime thing was part of it but beyond that she was trying to right Hunter's wrongs. She was trying to give he and Seth their old lives back and forge that brotherhood again. It wouldn't work – obviously – because they were now two different people but clearly Stephanie had felt she had to try.

Huh.

Momentarily the thought stopped Dean's emotions and the anger fell away from him to be replaced by – what – calm? It was weird to think she cared that deeply and even nicer that she cared about him. Ever since his childhood – ever since his brotherhood – he hadn't really had much in the way of family and for the last years Stephanie had basically been it. Not that his boss could ever be his family but there was no denying she came kinda close.

Like a nagging mother or a doting great aunt.

Maybe it was time to mention the fact that she looked like her father?

Okay, maybe not.

But there was something building inside him – an impulse – and with a final blast of courage, he boldly took the plunge.

"Two weeks, right? That's my notice period?"

Her head shot up hopefully,

"Fourteen days. That's right."

Dean took a deep breath. What was he doing? He was crazy, that was it. He had to be mad.

"So if I do this thing and hate it – which I will – when the two weeks is up, I'm still free to go, right?"

Stephanie blinked at him but she was smiling kind of smugly, as if she knew it wouldn't come to that. It made Dean bristle and he almost changed his mind again, simply to spite her.

Screw her.

Screw them.

He could make a new life wherever he wanted and whenever he wanted to do it as well.

"Yes," Stephanie nodded, "After that, you'll be free."

"This isn't me – like – admittin' anythin', I'm doin' this because I have to. You get that right?"

It was a question that his boss chose not to answer and damn it if that didn't annoy the crap out of him as well. She was just so fucking self-righteous and arrogant. One more thing she shared with her father, as if looks and pig-headedness weren't already enough.

With a free hand, Stephanie dipped into her handbag and pulled something out from between the leather folds. Leaning forward, she put it down on the coffee table and Dean could see that it wasn't one thing, but two.

She had brought his badge and his gun back for him.

She had known he would give in to her and like an idiot he had.

Throwing back the rest of her drink, she rose from the arm of the sofa she'd been perched on and placed the glass down. She was back to full strength. Dean wasn't sure whether it was from the alcohol or the victory but settled on it being a combination of both.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a manipulative bitch?"

She paused on the threshold of the lounge,

"Plenty. I was thinking of getting a sign made for my desk but then I figured I probably didn't want to advertise it too much. I might not be so effective if I did."

"Wow."

She turned towards the door and left him sitting there blinking, watching as she sauntered almost casually down the hall.

"Don't get up," she trilled at him briskly, "I'm sure I can find my way out from here. I'll expect you at the warehouse on Monday morning – did the others tell you I'd managed to get the old place back? We start at eight sharp Dean, try not to be late for once."

He frowned at her.

Late?

Since when was he late? Besides, how was it even possible to be late when things couldn't start until he was there? In response he shrugged and tried to sound lazy, despite the sudden, loud pounding of his heart,

"I'll get there when I get there."

Stephanie rolled her eyes at him and there was a sudden rush of air as she opened the front door. The force of the vacuum channelled air in through the window and shot it like a dart straight into the room. It ruffled his untidy tangle of loose curls but if his boss noticed the effect it was having, then she chose not to mention it.

More likely she didn't care.

She was halfway out into the hall before she spoke again, once last sentence – as ever – on her lips.

"The three of you did great things back in the day Dean and together I know you'll do them again."

Then the door slammed and the blast of air died with it, leaving him alone again.

"Son of a bitch."

So, the gang's all back together again. But how do you think they're going to get on?