Canary and the Coal Mine

A huge thanks to Bonnie Schroeder for ensuring the weight-lifting details stayed accurate!
________________________________________

For a rich man, John Cena had some ridiculously squeaky floorboards. I grimaced as the creak echoed down into the front room, and paused again to make sure I hadn't woken anyone. Sure, John had like three hundred rooms and his house was the size of a small country, but knowing my luck…

By the time I finally reached the bottom floor, I was running late. Fast as I could, I skittered to the kitchen to get the keys of the company car Nikki and I shared. As I rounded the corner, the lights snapped on and I let out a squeak that put the steps to shame.

Nikki sat at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee and smirking at me.

"Morning, Jellybean," she said slowly; I gave a quick, nervous laugh and forced a smile.

"Hey Snickers. You're, uh, you're up early."

"I could say the same about you," she mused, taking a sip and holding up a set of keys. Shit.

"Looking for these?"

"Oh, yeah. I actually, I needed to get a few things before Raw."

"At six in the morning?"

"I don't like crowds."

Nikki took another sip.

"In work out clothes?"

"I was gonna jog up and down the aisles. Make it quick," I said quickly, flashing another tight smile. She hmm'd and sat up tossing the keys up and down. My eyes darted to the clock; almost fifteen past. The gym I needed to get to was a half-hour drive.

"You can either tell me where you're going, or you can wake John up and ask to borrow one of his cars."

Shit. Again.

"Do we really have to –" Nikki turned for the far hall and took a breath; I shot forward and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Okay, okay!"

She turned and dangled the keys up above my head and somehow her smirk got even wider. I dropped my head back and let out a long breath.

"I may be going to work out." She jingled the keys and I crossed my arms, scowling at my best friend. "With the Shield. Are you happy now?"

"Maybeee," she hummed, leaning across the island and spinning the keys on her finger. "So is it really the Shield, or is it just Dean –"

"Nicole," I huffed, snatching the keys and praying my ridiculous blush wasn't too obvious. "I'll be back for lunch, so just –"

"Take off the tank top," she called after me, giggling to herself. "You'd look so cute with just a sports bra!"

"Goodbye," I cut in, shooting her a glare as I opened the garage door. She got up.

"I've got a pair of those spanx you could wear with it –"

"Go bother your boyfriend, you jerk!"

Nicole's giggling followed me all the way to the gym.

By the time I pulled up to the seemingly empty building, I'd contemplated turning around at least ten times. Did I need to wear something else? Should I have brought Nikki with me, just in case? Was working out with Shield a dangerous mistake I hadn't thought through?

Yes to all of the above I sighed to myself, grabbing my duffel and hopping out of the SUV. As I headed for the front door, I pulled up Dean's text again.

625 sunset blvd. burns bros gym. call me when ur here.

I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves and push away the stupid doubts about my outfit, and hit 'call'. It rang twice before a gruff, lightly accented voice asked,

"Y'here, Finch?"

"Yep, I'm at the south door."

"Kay," he grunted; I heard the sound of weights hitting the ground. "Gimmie a sec."

As we hung up, I peeked through the window of the door, and let a smile come to my face when I saw Dean round the corner. He was in a pair of loose basketball shorts, and a swear-dampened muscle shirt with Cincinatti across his chest in faded letters. His curls were unruly, some sticking to his forehead, some spiraling up in all directions.

His arms looked even bigger somehow, glinting in the early morning sun as he held the door open for me. He gave me one of those honest, toothy smiles that made my heart skip a few beats.

"Hey Finch."

"Hey Dean," I said meekly, ducking into the building. It felt odd, being with him outside the ring like this. He was just... normal. A normal guy at the gym with his friends. "Sorry I'm late."

"S'all good," he promised, honestly seeming as meek as I was. Like we had no idea what to expect from each other in this kind of setting. So I turned to Dean and looped an arm around his waist to pull him into a sweaty hug.

He froze for the briefest of a moment before he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and hugged back. Why not treat him like I'd treat Bryan, or John? He was my friend. Nothing weird or uncertain about that.

"You have any trouble findin' it?" he asked as we pulled apart; his hand dropped to my lower back to guide me throughout the halls; I did my best to fight off the giddiness that rose up through me.

"Yeah, I did," I assured as I looked around at all the empty rooms. I glanced at him and raised my brows. "Do we have the place to ourselves?"

"Yep," he told me with a proud smirk. "Perks'a bein' friends with the owner."

I turned and gave him an impressed smile. For a moment, it almost looked like the eccentric Dean Ambrose was blushing.

"You're friends with the owner?"

"You 'member Matt Burns?" when I didn't immediately place the name he added, "Sick Nick."

"Oh yeah!" I said, snapping my fingers when his face popped into my head. "Guy that tried to powerbomb me through the windshield of his car."

"That's the one," he snorted, holding open the door to the weight room for me. "I hook 'im up with tickets to the shows, he gets us the gym to ourselves."

"You know, so you won't be embarrassed when we totally run you into the ground," Seth cut in, smirking at me as he and Roman strolled over to us. To my surprise, Roman smacked him upside the head and then roped me into a hug.

"Ay, be nice to our guest," he chastised, giving me a wink as we pulled apart. "Seein' as she's the only one on the roster who ain't after us."

"I wouldn't mind her if she wasn't such an obnoxious brat," Seth threw out; I gave him a cheeky smile,

"You know, I was thinking the same thing about you, Princess Sparkle."

"Don't call me that," Seth scowled at me, turning to shuffle back to his weights as Roman snorted and shook his head. He squeezed my shoulder and the peeled back off to his own corner.

I followed Dean to the other side of the weight room, where he settled onto the end of a weight bench. I eyed the bar he had set up as I tossed my duffel bag by his own. He caught me staring and leaned back against it as I settled on the floor.

"Mondays are weight day," he explained. "You do any liftin'?"

I made a face as I stretched out my legs.

"Ah, not a lot. I've done a little with John and Nikki the last few weeks, but nothing super serious."

"What you benchin', little Finch?" he mused, grabbing a towel and drying off his hands, lying back and getting into position.

"Uh," I chuckled, shaking my head. "John didn't wanna push me too much to start, so I think I was at, like, 100 lbs."

My cheeks flushed, expecting to be teased, but Dean made a noise of surprise as he braced against the bar.

"That ain't bad for someone your size," he grunted, lifting the bar up and lowering it slow to his chest. I sat up out of my stretches and leaned back against the wall; no way I was missing a free show of Dean's arms.

"It doesn't sound like a lot," I mused, watching him lift the weights with ease and lower them back down, looking effortless. "How much is that?"

"S'just a warm up," he prefaced, doing another rep. "Think I got 230 on right now."

"Oh my god," I laughed, trying not to drool as I watched the rippling muscles in his arms. "That's like, two of me."

Dean laughed, a genuine laugh that I had the feeling not a lot of people got to hear. He did a few more reps before he hooked the bar again and sat up. My breath actually left me, and okay I couldn't help but stare.

His muscle shirt clung to his body, accentuating his tight abs and broad frame. His arms looked even freakin' bigger than before, shining with sweat and threatening to rip the armholes of his shirt.
When I finally realized he was staring at me I snapped my eyes up to his. He smirked at me as I blushed, and leaned forward.

"You good, darlin'? Look a little flustered."

"Just fine," I said quickly, clearing my throat and moving to stand. Dean was on his feet instantly, offering his hand. So sue me, I took it. He pulled me to his feet and I swear he flexed even more on purpose.

"You wanna give liftin' a try?"

I gave Dean a glance, and felt my face flush again. Okay, so maybe I was a little self conscious. I got teased all the time for how small I was, and I didn't want to look like a wimp in front of the Shield. Dean frowned and gave me a curious look. With a sigh, I said quietly,

"I'm really not that strong. I'm just gonna look like an idiot -"

"Nah," he argued immediately. "Look. You ain't here to prove anythin'. I was just messin' with you the other day. I uh, I asked you t'come so we could, yknow, just hang out."

"Really?" I asked, trying not to sound as awestruck as I felt right now. Dean cleared his throat and nodded quickly.

"So just relax. Seth's a dick, but we ain't gonna make fun of ya. If you wanna try some liftin', I'll spot ya."

"It's just, you guys lift so much more than me. It's just comical."

"We're twice your size, Finch," he pointed out with a wry smile, moving to his bar and taking some weights off. "I don't think we expect ya to be benchin' two hundred pounds."

"Promise you won't laugh?" I asked meekly, and Dean glanced back, giving me his honest, toothy smile.

"Promise, darlin'. C'mere."

Heart still skipping beats, I moved and sat on the bench like he had. Dean stood at the head of bench, holding onto the bar. Slowly, I laid down and scooted into position. Now I was thoroughly grateful I hadn't worn something as revealing as Nikki had wanted. The last thing I needed to worry about was a wardrobe malfunction.

Dean leaned over me and, again, gave a small smile.

"Ready? I got it at 70."

"Ready," I said nervously, reaching up and gripping the bar. I took a deep, settling breath, and lifted it up. It was heavy, but not unbearable. Nothing worse than what I'd struggled through with John over the weekend.

I lowered the weight to my chest slowly; Dean kept his hands right under the bar, ready to help if I needed it. I pushed the bar up with ease, and a pleased smile came over his face.

"S'not bad, little Finch," he told me after another few reps, taking the bar and hooking it again for me. "Ready for more?"

As I nodded, and Dean put on some more weight, Seth came up to us. I tensed and prepared for some trash talking when he knelt next to me.

"It uh, it helps to sit a little further up," he suggested, tapping the bench an inch or so above my shoulder. Surprised at his helpfulness, I scooted back a bit. "And try to brace your feet here."

He gently took my ankle and shifted my leg back just a hint, then moved to adjust my other foot. Roman made a noise of surprise and hooked his own weight up to come over to us.

"What, you decided not to be a dick?"

"Shut up man," he snapped, crossing his arms. "I just like lifting, okay? If she's gonna learn, she's gotta learn it right."

"Thank you," I told him honestly, giving a smile. "I appreciate the help."

Seth gave me a gruff nod as Dean leaned back over me, checking if I was ready. With a nod and another deep breath, I lifted the bar.

It turns out that lifting was the key to friendship with the Shield. The boys spent the better part of two hours not only helping me work on my form, but showing off their own muscles as well. When my arms had finally given out, I'd made way for the big lifters to 'show me how it's done'.

Seth had collapsed at the foot of the bench, worn out. He'd maxed out at 340 lbs, and was paying for his need to show off. And, of course, the others weren't far behind.

"Holy shit," Dean huffed, struggling to raise the bar back up. Roman chuckled and followed Dean's movement, ready to help if he needed it. But Dean managed to hook the bar, and earned a round of applause from Roman and I as he sat up slowly.

"That's fuckin' heavy," he wheezed, shaking his head. When he started to ease himself up, I held out my hands and he chuckled, slipping his into mine. Though I really didn't do much to help him stand, he kept his hands in mine as he stepped over Seth to slump against the wall.

"You can all see how it's done in the big leagues," Roman smirked; he didn't even need a spotter. He laid back and lifted the bar, doing a couple of easy reps as I gaped at him.

"Fuckin' showoff," Dean muttered, shoving off the wall and moving to nudge Seth with his foot. "You alive?"

"Mmm," he mumbled into his arm. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, I think it's time to wrap up," Roman agreed, hooking the bar and sitting up. As much fun as I was having, I had to agree. I needed to get back before Nikki came looking for me. Knowing my best friend, it wasn't far-fetched.

"You wanna grab a bite with us?" Dean asked as we started to clean up. As much as I wanted to...

"I'll take a rain check on that," I sighed. "Nikki's waiting for me, and I've still got to pack before we head to the arena tonight."

For a moment, Dean looked genuinely upset, but he nodded in agreement instead.

"Yeah, same with us."

As we all finished tidying up, and I'd grabbed my duffel, Dean caught my eye.

"You gonna behave yourself tonight?"

"Oh, you mean am I going to sit back and let you beat up my friends?"

All three boys nodded. I snorted and shook my head.

"Yeah. I don't think so. Nice try though," I added to Dean, and he shrugged. He grabbed his own bag, and as the others packed up, he turned to me. He was closer than I'd been expecting, and I had to tip my head back to look up at him.

"Just means I gotta ruffle those feathers," he hummed, then reached out and took hold of my wrist. He lifted my arm up and studied my finch bracelet, smiled, and lowered it again.

"Just means I can level you in the ring again," I teased, smirking up at him as we headed for the door. I gave Seth a nod goodbye, and returned the quick side-hug Roman gave me as I passed.

"See you 'round, half-pint," he teased, winking at me as Dean and I headed into the hall. He again rested his hand on my back to guide me to the door I'd come from. So sue me if I slowed a bit and sank into his touch.

"Thanks for letting me come hang out with you guys," I said to him as I leaned against the door. "It was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, it was," he said, smiling down at me. "Y'did real good, Finch."

"Thanks for helping me. Except, you know what this means now."
Dean gave me a curious look as I flexed my muscles dramatically. "I'm one step closer to doing my own powerbomb on the Shield."

He let out a laugh of surprise, shaking his head at me. As I gave him a challenging stare, Dean swallowed his laughs and presses his hand above my shoulder, leaning down over me.

"You really think you can pull it off, darlin'?"

"Don't tempt me, Ambrose," I threatened, giving him a smirk as I playfully pushed him back. "I'm going easy on your right now since you were so nice to help me lift."

"Sure, Finch," he chuckled, looping me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled closer, resting my head against his chest as he engulfed my shoulders with his massive arms. Seriously, those arms were meant for hugs.

"Drive safe," he told me as we pulled apart. "I'll see ya in the ring, Finch."

"Better watch yourself," I teased, backing out of the door and giving him a playful glare. He smirked and leaned on the doorway, arms crossed, watching me leave. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I watched Dean in my rear view until he disappeared from sight.
________________________________________

Damien tugged his bathrobe a little tighter, giving me the side-eye as he studied the schedule for the night. I gave my unwilling tag partner a grin as I went back to searching for my name.

Vickie still didn't like me, it seemed. I wasn't anywhere on the lineup for tonight. Which meant I either had a night full of shenanigans, or I'd have to make my own matches. As I debated my options, Damien gave a sympathetic laugh; and I glanced at him, brows raised in question.

"It's a shame you're no longer found interesting by the WWE Universe," he lamented, smirking proudly at the board. "Now that your novelty has worn off, they've made room for the bigger names."

Shenanigans it is.

"Oh, don't feel bad, Dames," I told him quickly; he skittered aside as I reached out to rest a hand on his arm. "Vickie promised she'd let us debut Jamien Sandless next Monday! I've already got our matching robes -"

He made a noise of disgust, looking like I'd just ripped the mustache off of Cody.

"Absolutely preposterous!" he nearly shrieked, already high-tailing it down the hall. "I will not allow this defamation -"

"Wait! Come back!" He let out another shriek and sped up. "Don't you want to hear our new theme music?!"

"Lawless!" a new voice barked from the opposite hallway; snickering to myself, I turned and gave Cody a two-fingered salute. The mustached man was storming towards me, clearly unhappy with my latest exchange with his 'best friend'. As I shook my head and looked back at the schedule, an idea came to mind.

Fast as I could, I shot forward and snagged the marker, changing the time slot of Cody and Damien's match from 9pm to 10pm.

This oughta be interesting, I hummed to myself, casually adding + Jamie Lawless to the end of 'Rhodes Scholars'. Cody snatched the marker out of my hand and wiped my name off, glaring down at me. I gave him the most innocent smile I could muster.

"Quit antagonizing Damien," he ordered, crossing his arms to try and look intimidating or something. I scoffed.

"I don't antagonize. I simply talk about the future we have together, and he gets all emotional about commitment."

"You know exactly what you do," he scolded, mustache twitching. I fought to keep a straight face. "All I ask is for one night that's terror-free."

"And I'd like an industrial bedazzler. We don't always get what we want, Codester."

"Don't call me that," he griped, finally turning his attention to the board. His frown grew a little more. "I thought we were on at 9..."

"You're mistaken. Jamien Sandless is on at 9," I began, going for the marker again. He swatted my hand down and let out an annoyed huff, turning and stalking back the way I came. Once he was out of sight, I changed the board back and then scampered the other direction, heading for Randy's locker room.

As I rounded the corner, though, I found myself stumbling upon the Viper himself, doing a steely-faced promo with Matt Striker. As much fun as it'd be to crash the interview and add to my list of shenanigans, I knew better. Messing with Rhodes Scholars was one thing. Crossing Randy Orton was something I knew not to push. More than I admittedly already did, at least.

"There's 29 other competitors," Randy said, catching my eye and giving a smirk. "But there's only one Randy Orton."

Rolling my eyes, I went to skirt past the cameras; to my surprise, he snagged my hand and pulled me to his side. The crowd let out cheers as I gave the camera – and Matt – a cheeky smile.

"Jamie Lawless, what a surprise," Matt said, moving closer like he wanted to interview me now. "We were just talking about the Royal Rumble –"

"About how I'm the only real competition for the Viper, right?" I goaded; Randy snorted and then casually slung his arm over my shoulder. He leaned in and I turned to look up at him; he gave a smirk.

"Listen here, kid. Just because I trained you doesn't mean –"

"Well, well, well. Randy and Jamie," Heath Slater said, coming up to us with Jinder and Drew on either side of him. "Now it seems like you two think you're gonna win, but we got news for you!"

"Yeah," Jinder growled at me as Drew leaned in towards Randy.

"Wet got news!"

"3MB has just entered the Royal Rumble bay-bay!"

Randy and I exchanged bemused looks before he pulled his arm back and we turned to others, shoulder-to-shoulder, arms crossed, as Heath kept going.

"Which means we got the best odds of winnin', which means," he teased as Jinder sneered at me again. "3MB is gonna be headlinin' Wrestlemania!"

"I mean, is there even a point to the Rumble anymore?" I asked Randy in mock-defeat. "Do we just surrender? Walk ourselves out and quit the WWE?"

He let out a heavy breath and shook his head, following my lead.

"You ask a lot of good questions, Jay. I mean, I guess the only one left is…" he turned his sharp eyes to Heath, and the ginger 'rockstar' actually took a step back. "Which one of you jokers is gonna be facing me tonight?"

Clearly, they hadn't been expecting that. All three of them shared looks of puzzled concern. The Viper and I patiently watched them scramble for an answer.

"Pick your poison," Heath finally offered, clearing his throat as they all crossed their arms to match us. "You can have lead guitarist, Jinder Mahal. Or you could have lead bass, Drew McIntyre. Or," he flipped his hair over his shoulder. "You could have me, the front man!"

"Well, Mr. Frontman," Randy said slowly, taking a step forward. "After our match tonight, you won't be playing the air guitar anymore."

Heath's eyes widened as Randy smirked, turning and heading down the hall. I gave the boys a two-fingered salute and headed off after him to his locker room. Except, Randy came to a stop a few doors down and then turned to smile down at me.

"What, you're not getting ready for your match?" I hedged; I hadn't seen my boyfriend all weekend. So what if I wanted a little alone time with him? Randy, catching my drift, snorted and shook his head.

"I actually need to go have a few words with Vickie." I made a face. "I know. Trust me," he said, lowering his voice just a hint as he swept his eyes over me. "I'd rather be with you than her."

"I could come with you," I started as Randy pushed off the wall. He gave me a dry look as he began to back down the hall.

"I don't think so, trouble maker. You're already on her bad side."

Okay, true. I let out a huff and did my best to look lonely and dejected as he reached the end of the hall.

"Meet me at gorilla in ten minutes. I need my valet to back me up."

He winked at me as a smile took over my face. Fine, I'd survive a little longer without a hug. Still mildly dejected, I turned and trudged back down the hall. No point in going back to the locker room. The twins were in a meeting with Caranno, and John was off at one of his Make-A-Wish events. All that was left was Bryan, and he'd gone off to fight with Kane the second we got here.

Before I could even host the possibility of hunting down Damien and putting Nikki's Nair to use, a set of hushed voices caught my attention.

"I don't like it either, but what choice d'we got?" Dean said in a clipped tone. Immediately I scampered after the sounds, turning down a side hallway I hadn't seen before. Maybe trouble did find me.

Dean had his back to me, caught up in his discussion with Roman and Seth. The other two were too busy bickering with each other to see me come up beside Dean as Seth argued,

"It's bullshit! He thinks he can boss us around and hold out on our money?"

"You guys seriously thought Heyman and Punk would pay you without problems?" I laughed, making all three boys spin to stare at me in surprise. Seth immediately scowled, but to my surprise both Dean and Roman seemed pleased to see me.

"This isn't your business, Barbie. Get outta here."

"Maybe you shouldn't discuss top secret alliances out in the open, Princess Sparkle."

"I told you not to call me that," Seth started; Roman clamped a hand on his shoulder and tugged him back, rolling his eyes at us.

"I'll catch up to y'guys in a sec," Dean said pointedly, turning and giving his boys a look I couldn't see. Seth muttered something smart under his breath that earned an elbow from Roman.

"Don't be long," he reminded Dean as he towed Seth out of sight. Dean gave me a look as we fell into step together. I raised my brows at him.

"You really gotta rile him up?"

"He started it," I argued, shrugging as Dean snorted. "Besides, I'm bored. What else do I have to do?"

"I dunno… mess with the schedule for tonight?" Dean mused; my eyes went wide and I pressed my lips together. How did he know about that?! "Y'know. Just as an example, darlin'."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I told him quickly, and Dean chuckled lowly. Before we turned the corner, Dean moved ahead of me and cut me off. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms.

"My silence is gonna cost ya," he warned, and despite all the implications in my head and the blush creeping up my cheeks, I managed to give him a cold stare.

"Okay. I don't tell Triple H about your deal with Punk and Heyman, and you don't tell Rhodes Scholars."

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied me, eyes again glinting with the smallest hint of arousal at my tone. As the shiver only Dean could bring raced down my spine, he moved to lean over me.

"Don't think I was negotiatin', Finch."

A hand locked onto Dean's arm and ripped him back. He shot me a quick, knowing smirk, and then spun to face Randy.

Oh shit. This wasn't gonna - wait. Dean's smirk. Had... Had Dean known Randy was watching us?

"There a problem here?" Randy asked him coolly, whole body tensing as Dean pulled free.

"Nah. Just havin' a talk with -"

"You mean you were just gettin' the hell out of here," Randy cut in, moving to the side and snagging my hand, pulling me to his side. I gave Dean a look to play nice; he gave me a smirk, and then a very obvious once-over.

Randy's entire body bristled as he stared furiously at Dean. The cocky bastard gave a chuckle and began to back down the hall.

"See y'round, darlin'," he threw out, giving me a wink before he turned and disappeared around the corner. As soon as we were alone, Randy rounded on me so fast I let out a squeak of surprise.

"What the hell was that about?" he hissed. "You friends with Ambrose now?"

When I blinked up at him, still taken aback by his sudden movement, he let out a huff of irritation and stalked back the way he came. After a quick check to make sure no one was near, I ran after him and then linked my hand with his, pulling him to a stop. He turned, eyes still burning in accusation. I gave a squeeze.

"He caught me messing with the schedule to prank Rhodes Scholars, and I asked him not to tell. He was just trying to intimidate me, Randy. It was nothing. I promise."

"And looking you over?" he challenged, though he wasn't nearly as fired up as he had been a moment ago. Thank God. I gave an amused snort.

"He was just trying to get under your skin," I said, giving him a pointed look. Randy huffed, but to my relief he just shook his head.

"Do you really have to pick fights with everyone, Jay?"

"Yes," I told him with a cheeky smile. Randy swept his gaze around us, and then grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him. He ducked down and gave me a quick, powerful kiss.

"Sorry," he mumbled against my lips. When he pulled back, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged tight.

"It's okay. I'll try not to be such an instigator."

"No you won't," he laughed, hugging me back and kissing the top of my head.

An angry shout came from just around the corner and we practically jumped apart; Bryan and Kane came into view a heartbeat later. Thankfully, my goad-faced brother was too busy griping about their loss to notice how guilty we had to look.

"You just left me laying in the ring!" Bryan griped, over-exaggerating his limp as they came down the stairs. Kane and I rolled our eyes.

"Oh come off it, you big baby," I teased, nudging him as they passed. Bryan turned and glowered at me. "The Prime Time Players are a good tag-team. No shame in taking a fair loss."

"No one asked you," he griped, sounding like a five year old; I snorted as Kane snagged his arm and hauled him down the hall. I shot my moping brother a wink before turning back to Randy.

"Ready, baby?" he murmured, dipping low to steal one more kiss as soon as the coast was clear. I gave a quick nod, clearing my throat and composing myself just as his music hit.

"And his opponent, accompanied by Jamie Lawless, from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 225… he is the Apex Predator… Randy Orton!"

Randy and I stalked slowly down the ramp, eyeing our competition. The three guys were still striking poses in the ring. We paused just before the ring to share a look of bemusement, then bumped fists; Randy climbed into the ring as I peeled off to the side, ready for the match. As the bell rang, Jinder and Drew rolled out of the ring and stood on the side across from me.

The match was – to no one’s surprise – under Randy’s control from the start. After a few hard hits to the jaw, Randy bundled him into the corner, and drove his shoulder into Heath’s stomach. The ref, of course, grabbed Randy’s arm and pulled him back.

“Come on ref, let ‘em fight!” I shouted, earning myself a few finger-points and angry words from Jinder. I stuck my tongue out at him and he actually looked affronted.

As Randy reluctantly backed up, Heath capitalized; he rushed forward, pummeling the Viper with desperate forearms. Randy hit the turnbuckle hard and got a kick to the chest as he reeled. But just as with Randy, the ref stepped in and pulled Heath back.

That was all Randy needed. He kicked Heath in the stomach – just to give a bit of revenge – and then gave him a headbutt for good measure. The ridiculous rockstar stumbled back to the far ropes, dropping down as he tried to get his bearings. As Randy stalked towards him, he scrambled back, begging for mercy.

Randy, of course, went to grab him anyways, and Heath shot up. He’d been faking! Randy couldn’t brace quick enough, and he was thrown out of the ring, right between Jinder and Drew.

Shit!

I raced around the ring as Drew ran for Randy. He turned to take out his attacker, and Jinder went to jump him. I ran up the steel steps and jumped, landing on Jinder’s back. Arms hooking around his neck, I used my momentum to swing us around and drive him into the barricade. Randy caught me as I stumbled back, and we gave each other a thankful nod.

As Randy jumped on the apron to get back in, Heath kicked him in the face and sent him flying back. Randy slammed into me, and the both of us fell into Jinder. Drew, recovered now, jumped on top of us and began pummeling Randy as Heath distracted the ref.

Quick as I could, I squeezed out from between Randy and Jinder and hooked my arm around Drew’s neck. He let out a shout of alarm as I literally ripped him off the pile, throwing him into the steel steps. That got the refs attention, which thankfully kept Jinder from going after Randy.

The Viper rolled back into the ring, and I got between the apron and the rest of 3MB. The boys eyed me dangerously as they approached, smirks widening the closer they got. At the same time they dove at me; Jinder grabbed me and pulled me from the ring as Drew jumped onto the apron.

Using Jinder’s momentum, I surged us forward and slipped down from his arms, catching his legs as we hit the barricade. I jumped back and threw his legs up, easily flipping him over the barricade. Spinning fast, I ran back and dove into the side of Drew’s legs, knocking him hard off the apron and onto the steel steps.

As Randy positioned Heath on the ropes for his DDT, he caught my eye and gave me a wink before he slammed the poor 3MB member onto the mat. That was it. Match over. Randy riled the crowd up and then fell into position as Heath staggered to his feet. Randy leapt up, hit the RKO, and slithered over his opponent for the pin.

"One… two… three!" Randy's music hit and the crowd went wild. "And the winner… Randy Orton!"

Without warning, Jinder and Drew grabbed me by the arms from behind and threw me hard into the barricade. I let out a huff and fell to the ground as they turned and dove into the ring to take over the Viper.

As fast as I could, I scrambled to my feet and slid under the bottom rope. Just as Drew jumped onto Randy's back, I snagged Jinder's feet and ripped them out from under him. He let out a shout as he hit the mat, and then rolled to glare at me. I smirked and slipped out of the ring just as Randy dropped Drew in an unforgiving RKO.

"Think you're tough!?" Jinder spat at me as Randy joined me outside the ring; I paused our retreat and raised a brow at him as he grabbed a mic. "You couldn't beat me fair one-on-one!"

The crowd jeered at his challenge as I let out a laugh; taking the mic offered from a nearby cameraman, I shrugged and suggested,

"How 'bout we find that out tonight?"

Randy let out a sigh and grabbed my arm as Jinder let out a cold laugh.

“I will see you in the ring, you worthless child!”

I gave a two-finger salute as Randy finally managed to get me backstage.

"Really, Jay?" Randy sighed, frowning down at me. I gave a shrug in response.

“If Vickie won’t give me a match, I’ll just make my own.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It is when I’m in charge of my booking,” I pointed out with a shrug. As Randy went to argue, shouting rose up from the halls. We - and the other staff standing around - watched in amusement as Damien came around the corner.

“CODY!” he hollered, pausing and spinning on the spot, looking for his best friend. I barely stifled the snort of amusement. “CODY! We’re next! Where are you!? CODY!”

He spotted me and his whole body went tense. My brows raised and I held up my hands.

“I swear, I didn’t –“

“Don’t lie to me, you heathen!” he screeched, jamming a finger at me. “What have you done with him?”

“Who?” I started, and when he opened his mouth, I added slyly, “oh, you mean the person coming between Jamien Sandless?” Damien’s face fell into a horrified stare and I shrugged my shoulders, giving him an innocent smile. “Haven’t seen him.”

“I will find him,” he began, edging past me, finger still pointed and shaking now. “And I will ensure you are punished to the full extent of the law!”

“That a threat or a promise, Dames?”

He gave a wordless shriek of frustration before he spun and sprinted down the hallway, shouting for his mustached side-kick. I let out a laugh and turned to grin up at Randy; he was gone.

What the hell?

It was my turn to spin around, looking for my boyfriend. He’d just been here. Where’d he have to go without telling me!? I let out a huff and turned again, then headed for his locker room. I passed the schedule board and saw Jamie Lawless vs Jinder Mahal written in after Rhodes Scholars. Which meant – depending on how quick they sorted out the schedule mixup – I had about five minutes to find him before I was up.

After glancing into the break room – which only had a couple of refs – I made my way to his locker room. I went to walk in, and stopped in surprise when the door didn’t budge. It was locked? He never locked his locker room unless I was in there showering. I gave a few hard knocks and stepped back, arms crossed, trying not to scowl as much as I was.

I waited nearly three minutes before I accepted he either wasn’t answering, or he wasn’t in there. As much as I wanted to wait longer, I was out of time. 3MB was already dancing down the ramp to their music. Apparently I wasn’t getting a valet.

As best I could, I pushed my irritation out of my mind. Randy was a busy guy. He probably had things to do, people to see, places to go without letting me know before he disappeared into thin air…

Knock it off, Lawless, I told myself as I jogged the steps of gorilla. Last thing I needed was to be distracted. It was undoubtedly three against one; at least this wasn’t the Shield. I actually stood a chance on my own.

“And his opponent, from Ouray, Colorado… weighing 117lbs, Jamie Lawless!”

The crowd erupted as my music hit, wiping out all the frustration and nerves welling inside me. A grin took over my face as I danced out, throwing up my piece sign at the top of the ramp. The crowd cheered louder, mimicking my movement; fans leaned over the barricades to slap my hand as I danced down to the ring.

Jinder stood in the far corner of the ring with Heath and Drew on the apron behind him. They eyed me as I vaulted over the top rope, turning to grin at all three of them. Heath and Drew slapped Jinder’s shoulders as he let out a roar and surged towards me. The bell rang, and I matched his steps, circling him in the center of the ring.

We locked up fast, and to my surprise, our strength was matched pretty well. Which, honestly, didn’t say a lot for Jinder. The two of us battled for dominance, stumbling into the turnbuckle. As we fought to get the one-up, the ref hooked his arm across my waist and pulled me off to break the hold.

“I know, I know –“ I began; Jinder ducked under the ref’s arm and went to slam me into the far ropes. As the ref jumped aside I side-stepped and wrapped my arm around Jinder’s neck. He let out a noise of surprise as I twisted my body around and brought us down to the mat, getting him into a headlock.

His long legs worked well against me, though. He got them up under himself and stood, lessening my hold and managing to stand. As I tried to twist and get away, he looped my neck now and held me tight to him.

He turned and bounced us off the ropes, running forward with the momentum. I pulled free, and as I righted myself, he bounced off the other ropes and slammed his body into me. I let out a squeak of surprise and flew back, hitting the mat and skidding across the ring.

Ouch.

Lucky for me, though, 3MB was all about showing off. Jinder flaunted his one-up of me to the crowd, giving me time to get back to my feet. As he turned, I copied his move, bouncing off the ropes and then slamming into him, knocking him onto his back.

He stared up at me in outraged disbelief as I smirked and gave him a wink. He shoved to his feet, and as I danced back he kicked out and caught me in the shin with his boot. I let out a yelp and jerked away, glaring.

“C’mon, Mahal,” the ref chastised; as he shoved to his knees, I danced behind him and kicked him hard in the thigh. As he dropped again the ref threw his hands up. I gave a cheeky grin and went to follow my opponent. Jinder scrambled back to his boys, clutching his thigh, crying out in pain.

“Really, Lawless?” the ref scolded, and I held my hands up in innocence, giving Jinder ‘room to recover’ as the ref continued to scowl at me. Come on, he started it! I reluctantly backed up as Jinder staggered to his feet; without warning he surged past the ref and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

No way I was letting myself get suplexed! I grabbed his wrists and forced his arms back before he could lock in his hold. He let out a shout of frustration as I twisted and then kicked him hard in the stomach. He doubled, and I grabbed his neck, dropping him into a DDT.

As I went for the cover he rolled aside desperately, getting pulled from the ring by his partners. The ref shouted at him to get back in the ring, and Jinder shook his head. Really? Okay then.

I ran to the ropes and leaned over the top, grabbing a handful of Jinder’s hair and pulling hard. He shouted in pain and quickly scrambled onto the apron to lessen my hold. I skittered back and pulled harder, forcing him back over the top rope.

Hell yeah!

As he staggered, I gave a hard backhanded chop across his chest, and then shoved him back to the ropes to go for a buzzsaw kick. Drew jumped onto the apron and pushed his friend out of the way. I gave a shrug, and though the ref warned me not to, I spun and kicked Drew as hard as I could.

He sprawled back onto the ground by the announce table and the crowd cheered. As I turned for Jinder, he grabbed a handful of my shirt and shoved me back. I stumbled and hit the ropes, and more hands grabbed my shirt to pull me out of the ring.

I hit the mat and glared up at Heath, who was smirking over me. As he hauled me to my feet I surged forward and caught him with a shoulder to the chest. He hit the corner of the announce table and stumbled, slumping into the barricade. Drew hooked my arm and threw me to the ground in a hard hip toss.

The breath left me, and I laid stunned for a few moments, trying to get my bearings. The ref started the count out, and moments later Jinder was standing over me. He grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pants and hoisted me up, tossing me back into the ring. Sure, now that his friends had roughed me up, he was ready to take the win.

Not happening.

As he laid over me for the pin I shoved him off hard, rolling onto my hands and knees to try and get to my feet. He recovered faster than I did, and threw a hard kick into my ribs; I let out a shout of pain and tried to get away, slumping against the bottom rope. He kicked me hard again in the chest, and as I fell onto my back, he used the top rope as leverage to jump up and then land hard on my exposed ribs.

Thankfully the ref actually did his job, slipping between us and shoving him back as I pulled myself to my feet with the ropes. He turned to kick me again and I ducked, driving my shoulder into his stomach as hard as I could. We stumbled back; as Jinder hit the ropes, I bent and wrapped one arm around his neck and the other behind his legs.

Using the momentum, I surged to the side and lifted Jinder up onto my shoulders. The crowd erupted as I spun and flipped him over, landing him hard on the mat. I dove down and covered him for the pin.

As the ref hit two, a hand caught my ankle and ripped me back. Heath had broken the damn pin! I let out a snarl and kicked out at him, sending him back into the announce table. As Drew rushed me and jumped onto the apron, I leapt up, grabbed his hair, and then dropped down. His face hit the top rope and he let out a shout as he fell back, landing on Heath as he staggered forward.

Both men dropped, and Jinder was still down! I turned on my knee and fell across his chest, scooping his leg as the ref dropped next to us again.

“One… two… three!”

My music filled the arena as I jumped to my feet, throwing my hands up in victory. Three on one, and I still came away with the win! As Drew and Heath struggled to their feet, I gave a two-fingered salute and vaulted over the opposite ropes, jumping off the apron and backing up the ramp.

As I turned and went backstage, I nearly collided with Randy. He caught my shoulders and pulled me down the steps of gorilla to study me better.

“Hello to you too,” I said, letting him examine me; 3MB stumbled back a few moments later, supporting Jinder in the middle of the three and glaring daggers in my direction. I beamed at them as Randy finally let go of me and stepped back.

“Are you okay?”

“Just fine,” I promised; my ribs were a little sore, but nothing was broken and I wasn’t bleeding. Good enough. “Are you okay? You just disappeared earlier.”

Randy gave me an apologetic smile as we turned and headed down the hall.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Sorry about that. I had a meeting with Hunter that I was running late for. I didn’t know your match was so soon –“

"I thought Hunter was at the Make-A-Wish event tonight. With John,” I cut in, frowning a bit. Randy made a face of surprise.

"Well he was there," he dismissed, shrugging his shoulders as he glanced back down at me. "You promise you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured, and then frowned a little more. "But how could he be there? The event is in Brooklyn? How would he be back so –"

“Hey, I was gonna ask,” he said, nudging my arm with his. “Did you wanna grab dinner tonight? Come sleep over?”

My cheeks flushed a bit and I looked up at him. Usually it was me making the plans. So I nodded quickly and smiled up at him.

“That sounds nice,” I told him, letting my frustrations from earlier fall away. I’d won the match and wasn’t worse for wear. Not having him valet for me wasn’t the end of the world, right? Besides, it’d been a while since we’d had some time to ourselves.

“It does,” he agreed. “I was thinking we go by that pizza joint –“

"Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Randy and I both froze, and before he could move to stop me, I was poking my head around the corner. Brad Maddox was seriously facing off with Paul Heyman. Which meant he was plotting something for Ryback’s match against Punk.

"You're not gonna talk to me that way!" he continued, and when Heyman stood up a little straighter, he added quickly, "Not when I can be of service to you."

No freakin’ way.

"Don't even think about it," Randy hissed, pulling me back to him. I turned and gave him a sharp look; he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, knowing the fight wasn’t worth it. "Fine. I'm gonna go take a shower. Don't get in over your head."

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then all but ran around the corner.

"I mean, I've still got my referee shirt," Brad continued. "I could go talk to Vickie –"

I grabbed a fistful of his sweater and ripped him back; he gave a squeak of alarm and stumbled into me. Heyman actually gave me a nod of thanks before he turned to get back to his phone call.

"Ow! Let go of me!"

"Quit meddling!" I chastised, throwing him into a stack of boxes. He slumped down and glared resentfully at me.

"Oh come on, you meddle!"

"Yeah, but I can actually stand up for myself," I said pointedly, dusting off my hands and then planting them on my hips. "I'm not letting you mess up Ryback's chance. Got it?"

He opened his mouth to argue and I jammed a finger at him.

"You interfere, you get anywhere near that ring, and I will spear you in half, you little weasel. Got it?"

He snapped his lips together and gave a quick, nervous nod. With a final scowl, I let him go, and he practically sprinted the opposite direction. No way was I letting Heymen and the Shield get the one-up on the Big Guy.

Brad gave me one last terrified look before he disappeared around the corner; with a satisfied smirk, I headed for the locker rooms in search of Ryback. It wasn’t hard to find the other half of Team Squeakback.

Kofi and Santino gave me nods of greeting as I came inside, dropping onto the bench that Ryback was sitting on to wrap his wrists.

“Hey, Squeak,” he said with a smile, accepting the gloves I handed him as he finished up. “Nice match out there.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “You ready for tonight?”

“Yeah, so long as it’s just me an’ Punk. I got that title as long as it’s fair.”

“I headed off Maddox for you,” I said, hopping up and falling into step with him. “And Heyman’s not a physical guy. All we gotta worry about is the Shield.”

Ryback let out a heavy sigh, and I rested a hand on his arm as we paused at Gorilla. When he looked down at me, I saw the worry in his eyes. I gave a sympathetic smile.

“I got your back. And all you gotta do is get up the ladder, not get the pin. Take those steps two at a time and rip it down. I’ll be out there if anything happens. I promise. You’ll kick his ass, Big Guy.”

I wrapped my arms around Ryback's waist and squeezing tight. He chuckled and folded his massive arms over my shoulders, hugging me back as I added, "I believe in you."

"Thanks, Squeak," he said sincerely as we stepped apart. As his music hit, he turned and jogged up the steps, disappearing through the curtains. I moved and hopped up onto the crate right by the stairs. I was here, and I was ready. Anything happened, he’d have his unofficial tag partner.

The match was hard and physical from the start. The two men met briefly in the ring, and then it was a war between who could throw the other into something painful. With every hit of the steel steps, or every face into the ladder, I winced and cheered.

I was more invested I this match than my own. Ryback had to win. He deserved that championship more than that jackass in the ring. As I threw my hands up, watching Ryback slam Punk into the apron, a bright pink sweater caught my eye.

Maddox.

He looked around suspiciously, and then ducked down a far hallway that led to the arena. Oh hellno. I was not letting him screw with Ryback! I leapt off the crate and raced after him, fire in my veins.

I rounded the corner and grabbed Maddox roughly, slamming him into the wall. He let out a scream more feminine than mine and flinched down into his sweater. A can of mousse fell from his hands as he stared at me in surprise.

“Jamie?!”

“What… what are you doing?” I managed, letting go of the terrified man and stepping back, eyeing him in concern.

“Just because you don’t understand fashion and style doesn’t mean you have to attack me over it!”

“I thought –“ I stared at him as he grabbed the mousse and glared at me, smoothing down his sweater.

“I know I’m irresistible,” he huffed, gently patting his curls back into place. “But this is just ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself.”

I watched him walk down the hall, disappearing into the diva’s styling area. Okay, so maybe I was a little wound up. At least Brad really wasn’t a threat tonight. That didn’t mean Ryback was in the clear, though. There was still the Shield, and they’d been too quiet tonight for my liking.

Maybe they’re mad at Heyman, I considered, heading back to gorilla, remembering the conversation I’d walked in on earlier. Maybe they’re taking a night off. The match was still going strong, and as the optimistic person I was, I kept that thought at the front of my mind as I let myself get caught up in the match again.

The men were still going fast and strong; Ryback dove for Punk, Punk got his knee up and caught the big guy in the face. Ryback slumped against the turnbuckle and I winced; there was no way a knee to the face didn't hurt. Punk wasted no time, running and throwing himself into Ryback, slamming my friend into the corner again. He looped an arm around Ryback's neck and turned for the running bulldog.

Except Ryback was ready for it. He grabbed Punk and pulled him back, then scooped his arms under Punk's legs and threw him up and over the ropes. Punk had half a second to flail before he went straight through the table below.

"Yes!" I cheered, throwing my hands up and scaring the life out of the poor stagehands around me. I didn't care – Ryback was going to win!

He didn't waste any time tossing out the battered ladder and pulling in a new one. I was jumping up and down, hands clasped, grin so wide on my face it hurt. Finally! A fair fight with Punk, and now the title he deserved! Ryback climbed fast, pausing only a few times to steady, before reaching up. He grabbed the belt and –

No!

The lights went out for a split second, long enough for panic and dread to surge through. No, no, NO! I chanted, sucking in a breath to try and keep calm. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I knew it was…

When they flickered back on, Ryback wasn't alone. My worst fear for the night had been confirmed.
Dean and Seth were on the ladder across from him, beating him back from the title. My vision literally went red. I was sprinting for the ring - for my friend - before I even realized it.

He was still up on the ladder, trying to beat down Seth and Dean, still across from him. Roman was the only thing between me and some good old fashioned ass-kicking, and he was no match for me right now. He saw me coming and braced for impact, ready to grab me; I didn't have time to deal with him. I dropped down and slide between his legs, going too fast for him to even swipe at my ankle.

In a second I was in the ring, hopping onto the ladder. Ryback caught sight of me and actually looked relieved to have backup. His desperation only fueled my anger; I grabbed the back of the boys' vests with either hand and ripped them off my friend mercilessly. They hit the mat hard; I hopped down as light as I could and steadied the now-shaking ladder.

And of course, the numbers were against us. Always against us. Roman was in the ring now, pulling Ryback down. Except the Big Guy was pissed too, and Roman wasn't ready for the explosion of fury. He was thrown over the ropes before Ryback was even all the way off the ladder. Dean surged past me, going for my friend, and I caught the back of his vest. With all my strength I jerked back and made him stumble into the ropes.

He met my eyes, trying to give a playful smirk, and actually looked surprised at the fury in my expression. I capitalized on the distraction and shoved him back-first over the ropes, enjoying the thud of him hitting the ground more than I should have. Seth's hands grabbed my hair and jerked me back; Ryback went to help and I motioned wildly to the ladder.

"Get the belt!"

He gave a sharp nod of understanding and turned his attention to the title as Seth hauled me back. With an elbow to the stomach, I got him to drop his hold. He stumbled back and I snagged the loops on his vest. With all my strength I hauled him forward, and then flung him over the ropes after Dean.

The ladder Ryback was on swayed ominously and I immediately went to steady him. He had just gotten to the top when the three vest-wearing assholes swarmed us again. Dean bundled me back from the ladder as Roman and Seth pulled Ryback down to the mat.

"Get off me!" I snarled at Dean, throwing a forearm at his face; he deflected and pinned me in the corner.

"It's just business, little Finch," he tried. I brought my knee up and he just barely moved back enough to take the hit in his stomach instead of between the legs, like I'd wanted.

"It’s just bullshit," I spat, shoving him back from me as he struggled to suck in a breath. I had a lot more to say, but the rest of the Shield wouldn’t let me keep going.

Roman and Seth grabbed Ryback and flung him into the corner. The Big Guy barely avoided crushing me into the turnbuckle. As he went to move, the sound of steel-on-skin jolted through me.

Ryback let out a grunt of pain and dropped to his knees, slumping against me. Seth stood behind him, chair raised for another hit as the rest of the Shield watched and laughed. Without warning I lunged forward – as much as I could with Ryback pinning me in the corner – and snagged the chair.

Seth scrambled to grab it again as I threw it over the ropes; fat lot of good it'd do me right now. Improvising now, the boys grabbed Ryback and pulled him off me; I went to fight them off, and Roman got between me and the others.

"I don't think so," he growled; I went to hit him and he grabbed my arms, lifting me up and then slamming me back-first onto the mat.

Ow.

I was a lot lighter than the weights he’d been lifting this morning, that was for sure. My breath struggled to come back as Roman helped the boys push Ryback out of the ring. I knew where this was headed. Fast as I could, I struggled to my feet; I wasn't letting them powerbomb Ryback again.
Except the fourth and final part of the problem had finally reared his ugly head again. Punk was climbing into the ring to hold me off. We were finally getting the faceoff I'd been wanting, and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

As much as I disliked Punk, I couldn't argue that he was actually a decent wrestler. He was smaller, but like me, he knew how to use that to his advantage. He was fast, and he was smart. Every move I made to get to Ryback was intercepted; every hit I threw was blocked or countered.
It was taking all I had to keep from letting Punk kick my ass. I was helpless, once again, as the Shield got my friend into position.

"Ryback!" I shouted, again trying to dodge around the obnoxious little weasel in the ring. Punk hooked his arms around my waist and tried to lift me into a German suplex. I countered fast, throwing my weight to the side and off-balancing him. We hit the mat hard, and I rolled up and jumped to my feet. I reached the ropes just as the Shield powerbombed Ryback through a table, right onto the steel steps below.

He landed hard and didn't move. My heart fell to my feet; I was moments too late. They had taken out Ryback and cost him the title. Again. I had let him down. After all the promises I'd made myself and Ryback, all the threats I'd thrown out, I hadn't been able to keep the fight fair.

As sad regret washed over me, Punk capitalized on my distraction. He gripped my hips with surprising strength and I let out a squeak of alarm as he flung me up over the ropes. My arms and legs flailed as I tried to get my bearings, bracing for a hard impact. My back sank against someone, not something, and arms wrapped tight around me.

Dean had caught me.

He stumbled a bit but easily kept his footing - and his hold - as he turned and stormed after Roman and Seth, hopping me up to lay over his shoulder. Ryback was still lying motionless; I struggled to get to him, twisting to try and free myself. Dean's grip tightened and I let out a snarl of frustration.

"Dean! Let go!" I spat, trying to shove off him and get free. He growled something I couldn't hear and squeezed a little tighter. I was stuck looking over Dean's shoulder, left to watch as Punk climbed the ladder and pulled the title down. He'd won.

Shield marched me up the ramp, pulling me away from my friend and pissing me off even further as Punk's music played around us.

This time, though, I had some backup against the three-on-one situation. Randy was in front of the Shield the second they got backstage, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Ambrose!" he snarled, moving to grab me. Roman and Seth immediately stepped between us and Randy made a noise of rage, trying to get to me.

Dean had eased up just enough to let my feet touch the floor, and I used it to spin myself around in his arms to face Randy. I gave him a reassuring look, but he didn't see it. Randy was staring above my head; Dean tightened his hold on me, and Randy's twisted into cold, possessive fury.

"Let go of her. Now."

The man holding me chuckled; I turned to look up at Dean, and saw the smug satisfaction on his face as he pulled me impossibly closer. Was he… was he making Randy jealous? A burst of surprise and irritation surged through me and I caught my captor off guard, slamming my elbows back into his stomach. His hold slackened and I turned back to face him again.

Dean went to tighten his hold again, and froze at the expression on my face. He actually took a step back, holding up his hands to let me go. Playtime was over. I'd deal with his unnecessary flirting or whatever he thought he was doing later; right now, I had a score to settle for my friend.

"Look," I hissed, backing away between Roman and Seth. Randy took my hand immediately to pull me to him, but I held my position to glare at all three men. "I know you're working for Punk."
All three kept neutral expressions on their faces, trying to play me off. Whatever; they could pretend all they wanted.

"I'm not stupid, you know. And you guys aren't either, so I can't figure out why you're wasting your time doing his dirty work. Whatever. I know you have your reasons, and like I said before, I don't care. But when you come after my friends… Screwing over Ryback? I'm not letting that slide."

"’Course you ain’t, darlin'," Dean drawled, backing up with his smirking friends as he shot me a wink.

“Love it when you’re riled up over me.”

Randy had me back against his chest in a heartbeat, livid and fuming. I reached up and rested a hand on the arm wrapped around me; we couldn't take on the Shield alone, and I had bigger fish to fry.

"Wanna come with me?" I asked softly once they'd disappeared, turning in his hold and resting my hands on his chest. After another few moments he dropped his gaze to me fury still etched into his expression.

"Where?"

"Ryback's probably with the medic now," I sighed, reluctantly distancing myself from him as we heard other people approaching. He led the way down the hall wordlessly, shoulders tense and fists still balled. He didn't answer my question, but when we reached the medic room he kept moving.

"I'm meeting some friends after the show." As I opened my mouth to ask about our plans, he added, "alone. I'll text you in the morning."

My heart sank just a bit as I stared after him. We'd been having such a good time, and one little thing, again, had ruined our night. I watched him walk away until he was around the corner, and then stood in silence for a few more moments.

Whatever. Randy was an adult, he could do what he wanted. I'd learned Friday that there was no point in hounding him about things he didn't offer up willingly, so I didn't want to waste my time sulking.

Instead, I knocked twice on the medic's door. Doc stuck his head out and actually looked relieved to see for once. And I could hear why.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Please," Doc said quickly, stepping aside as Bryan and Kane kept at one another. "Make them stop!"
That explained why he hadn't come out to help Ryback and I. With a roll of my eyes I came inside and stuck my head around the corner. Bryan had an icepack on his knee – what a baby – and Kane stood over him, both yelling and red in the face.

"Hey!" I shouted, making both men jump and turn to look at me. "Would the two of you shut up already!?"

"Excuse you," Bryan huffed, scowling at me again. "My tag partner and I are having a private conversation!"

"Then here's a novel idea. How about you and your tag partner learn to use your inside voices?"

Both men scoffed at me, but thankfully went back to bickering at a normal volume. I turned back and got an appreciative smile from Doc before he nodded his head to the other side of the room. There was a curtain up to hide the other man in the exam room; I could see his sulking figure, and my heart dropped just a bit. I came up to the curtain and knocked on the wall, leaning around and meeting Ryback's eyes. He didn't offer a smile. He just observed who had arrived and dropped his gaze back to the ground.

"Hey Big Guy," I said, coming up and squeezing the hand resting on his knee. He didn't respond. "You alright?"

"Fine," he murmured, still not meeting my gaze.

"Good," I told him with a smile, trying to stay upbeat. "Hey, I was thinking that Friday, we can see if Booker will let us team up and -"

"Think I'm gonna skip outta Smackdown," he cut in, voice so dejected the sadness was tangible. My face slowly fell into a frown as I stared at my friend. I rubbed his arm gently and ducked to catch his eye. He turned away.

"Hey. Ryback. Talk to me."

He lifted his eyes and stared straight ahead, swallowing hard and pressing his lips together. I stood patiently, still rubbing his arm reassuringly as I waited for him to speak.

Finally, he looked down at me, and his expression took my breath away. He looked heartbroken.

Completely defeated, moreso than after TLC, and that had kicked his ass. He gave a careless shrug of his shoulders and murmured,

"You just don't get anywhere here playin' nice, Squeak."

My heart constricted as I watched the resignation take over his face. He slid off the table and I moved to stop him. His hand came up, gripped my shoulder gently, and nudged me aside.
"Hey, it's okay. Shield got the one-up again, and it sucks. I know. But I've got your back. We'll take 'em out, and you'll get -"

"I'll see you next week," he said softly as he opened the door. He glanced back and gave me a sad smile as he added, "stay safe out there."

The door shut heavily behind him
________________________________________

Dean

Seth, thankfully, had opted to go pull the car around for them. Dean didn't have patience for his snarky comments tonight. Roman had pointedly stayed quiet, letting Dean sulk in the mess he'd made.

So he'd kinda been a dick, hangin' onto Finch like that in front of the Viper. He shouldn'ta smirked. Shouldn'ta pulled her closer. 'Cause sure, it looked like he was just doin' it to rile up Orton. But if Dean was bein' honest with himself – which Roman made him be too fuckin' much – it'd hurt him too. He wanted to be the one to hold onto her like that.

Hold his girl close and comfort her when she was upset.

'Course, he was the reason she was so pissed off. Again. But it wasn't like he could help it. An' if she was his girl, like she shoulda been, he could tell her all about the messed up politics that they'd been roped into. Maybe she'd understand. Even fuckin' forgive him for pullin' all that shit on that gorilla she was so damn fond of.

Maybe she'd even –

"Quit doin' that to yourself," Roman cut in, suddenly inches from Dean's face; he gave a start and moved back, barely keeping the yelp of alarm to himself.

"The fuck you talkin' about?" he rasped, trying to play it cool as he all but fuckin' hyperventilated.

"Quit torturing yourself over the shit you can't have."

Dean gave his brother a scowl as he went back to packing his bag. The 'Cin City' keychain had found a permanent place on his bag, and he stared at it as Roman continued.

"You wanted this, Dean. You wanted her to move on." He looked up at Roman as his brother hardened his stare and said quietly, "you wanted her to live her own life and find someone that was actually good enough for her."

With a harsh laugh, Dean threw the last of his shit in the bag and zipped it up. Slinging it onto his shoulder, he stalked past Roman and made for the door. He paused for just a moment, long enough to look back and lock eyes with his best friend.

There was a fire burning in Dean that he hadn't felt in a while.

Desire. Determination. Purpose.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. He hated himself for ruining his chances with Finch. She was all he wanted, all he fuckin' thought about. He'd had her, and he'd pushed her away. Right into the arms of someone actually somehow worse than he was an’ fuck if he'd let that conniving snake hurt his girl.

"Yeah?" he asked, and Roman raised a brow in challenge. "Trust me. Orton ain't the one."

The locker room door slammed shut behind him, echoing down the hall as Dean stalked for the car. No way he was losin' out on his chance with Finch. He wasn't the best, but he was pretty fuckin' far from the worst.

And not a goddamn thing on earth was gonna keep him from his girl.