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Chapter Text

Hello, everyone, and welcome to The Hounds of Vegas! This is a universe I started on a whim over a year ago (this note has been added after the fact), and this fic started it all.

You don't have to read everything in chronological order. What I would recommend doing is reading this, then going back to the beginning and reading in order. However, if you want to skip around, you can.

Enjoy, friends!

Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns were three police officers training to become members of the Las Vegas Police Department. Dean and Seth had a few years of experience but insisted on not getting special treatment. Roman used to be a football player, but a history of concussions ended his career prematurely.

Police Chief Hunter Hearst Helmsley (otherwise known as Triple H) and his wife Stephanie McMahon saw something special in them. Unfortunately, being corrupt officers and all, that wasn't exactly a good thing. Eventually, Dean, Seth, and Roman passed through training and became officers with one order: report everything that happened to the chief.

After a while, The Shield grew tired of this treatment. They had so much potential, and being lackeys for a corrupt officer wasn't their style. So they split, setting off a feud.

Triple H decided to let everything fester. Randy Orton, a second-generation cop, became his new golden boy. The Shield, severely underprepared, was transferred to Narcotics and nearly killed by drug runners. But, as the old saying goes, what goes around comes around.

Triple H and Randy met The Shield in a warehouse whose occupants had been arrested for possession and intention to distribute. They all had guns and were ready for a fight. In a moment of genius, Triple H revealed there was always a plan B. Those words would change Las Vegas forever.

Seth turned on the men he had come to call brothers, shooting Roman once in the back and breaking a rib. Dean had been paranoid over the last few weeks but had been told he was crazy. Was that true now?

He got the brunt of the damage. Seth shot Dean seven times, then left the warehouse with Triple H by his side. Randy stayed behind, but only to shoot Roman twice in the shoulder and dig out the bullets with his knife.

Roman was supposed to survive. Dean was not, yet he somehow did. In his thirst for power, Seth had focused more on unloading bullets and less on accuracy. As such, every single bullet managed to miss a major organ.

When Dean returned to the force, he knew he would be Seth's first target. And boy, was he ever. Seth tried to shoot him, stab him...he even sent a bomb to the apartment Roman and Dean were sharing. Roman knew what was going on, but Dean begged him not to help. This was his problem, and he needed to deal with it on his own.

August 18th, 2014, was a dark day in Las Vegas. Literally. With help from Triple H and assurance from Stephanie that any connection back to him would be wiped, Seth overloaded the power grid, sending Vegas into lockdown. Dean was purposefully left off the assignment list, so he walked home. That was a mistake.

Seth borrowed Randy's car and smashed into the future Lunatic Fringe as he was walking home. Dean was thrown against the brick wall and left for dead. But, once again, he was like a cockroach and survived.

Everyone thought he was dead. Seth had struck Dean in a blind spot, which was conveinent...for the most part. The only person who knew he wasn't dead was Randy. He knew the instant Seth brought his car back.

The truth was, Randy had been mentally unstable for a while. He didn't care about Dean, but he did respect his guts, and the whole situation made him angry. So he decided to turn on the Authority, which could have gone very, very badly.

Seth, Triple H, and a few of their Authority buddies lured Randy to the same warehouse that Roman and Dean had been shot in and opened fire. The lights were turned off so Randy didn't have to watch the bullets come toward him. This was a mistake.

When the lights came back on, Seth had a bullet in his shoulder and everyone around him except for Triple H was dead. Randy had been knicked by a few of the bullets, but most of them hadn't been fired. His saving grace was retired Lieutenant Steve Borden, nicknamed Sting by his friends. He had returned from the shadows to help, scaring Triple H and Seth off.

So where are we now?

Seth is still Triple H and Stephanie's golden boy. The only surviving member of the original Authority, he gets revenge by making life for his fellow officers miserable.

Roman is the new Dean, fighting corruption in the department. His allies are Sting and rookie cop Daniel Bryan, and while the task may be difficult, they are determined to succeed.

And Dean? After Randy was shot he left the department and started a drug ring, partly for money and partly so he could keep busy. Dean joined, but only so he could have a roof over his head. He doesn't smoke anymore or do drugs, and he's never been in it for the money. In the evenings, he wrestles at an underground promotion, something Dean has proven to be very good at. Randy understands him well; they have both suffered from PTSD since their respective incidents.

The Shield's lives have been separate for the past several years. Everything is about to change.

Chapter Text

Laughter hit Roman's ears. Seth was in Triple H's office again, chatting with him about...something. Did it matter?

There were 200 officers in their office, yet somehow Seth was the most important one. Another reason Roman needed to stop him.

"Seth!" His name was called as he left the chief's office. Seth looked up to see a box on his desk, labeled by a coffee company. He smiled.

"What's this, Seth?" Stephanie asked. Seth looked at her and smirked.

"I decided to be nice and buy coffee for everyone." A few people cheered, Roman lightly rolling his eyes. Seth was buttering everyone up so he could use them as leverage later on. Whether they knew it or not, everyone in the room now owed him a favor.

The box was opened, and the first bag of coffee was ground. Shaking his head, Roman murmured to Daniel,

"I'm not drinking his coffee."

"So what do we do?"

"Let's go to Foley's." Getting up, Roman and Daniel left the building, the former texting Sting to meet them.

Seth watched them leave with narrow eyes. He didn't blame them, but he was also angry. He had done a nice thing for once; why couldn't Roman accept that?

Foley's was a diner in the center of town, loved by everyone from locals to tourists with fanny packs. The Shield had been regulars before their split, and while Roman had been back a few times, it always brought back sad memories. 

Sting was waiting for them, sipping his coffee: milk, no sugar. Roman slid into the booth across from him, Daniel doing the same. Smiling, the retired officer asked,

"Seth trying to butter everyone up?"

"As usual," Roman chuckled, tracing his finger across the windowsill. He remembered the good old days, back when it was just him, Seth, and Dean against the world. Seth always ordered coffee with sugar and a cinnamon bun. Dean...Roman remembered how much he had loved blueberry muffins, despite thinking they were for wimps. He had always taken his coffee straight, something neither Seth or Roman could figure out. Hopefully, he was enjoying himself up in Heaven.

"Thinking about Dean?" Mick asked, coming over to their table. Sure enough, Roman had a sad expression on his face. Nodding, he whispered,

"I miss him."

"You're allowed," Mick replied, causing Roman to chuckle. He ordered a coffee with a smidge of milk, Daniel ordering cream and sugar in his. Sting asked for a plate of fried cheese sticks (his weakness), and they sat, enjoying their unconventional, impromptu breakfast.

A delivery truck pulled up across the street. Roman saw a man in a baseball cap get out, instantly recognizing the tattoos on his arms. He watched with faded interest, lightly sipping his coffee.

Across town, Dean was sitting in the upper level of an abandoned warehouse (though thankfully not the warehouse) waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. He hated the smell of the drink, but at least it defeated the other scents. A burrito was spinning in the microwave, sun bouncing across the metal. When it finally beeped, Dean stood up and fished out his snack; cheese and salsa, his favorite flavor.

The coffee maker beeped as the delivery truck pulled in, the doors sliding shut behind it. Pouring himself a cup, Dean headed downstairs.

Randy stepped out of the truck, blue shirt sticking to his skin in the hot sun. Taking off his baseball cap, he rubbed the back of his neck and winced.

"Another sunburn?" Dean chuckled. Randy nodded, nose wrinkling at the sight of his cup.

"I don't understand how you can drink that."

"What, coffee without anything or just in general?"

"Both." Randy fetched a tube of aloe from the table nearby, Dean laughing as he applied the cream to his neck.

"Did they get the shipment?"

"Without a hitch." Randy smiled, a rare thing for him. "Speaking of which, can you make a delivery for me tonight? I know you've got your match, but-"

"It's in the area, and you need to heal your neck." Swallowing the last of his coffee, Dean chuckled, "Okay, snowflake." Randy sat down, taking a sip of water and wincing again. Dean frowned, "Are the voices back?"

"Of course, Mox." Dean smiled. He wrestled under the name Jon Moxley (with gelled hair to boot), and so Randy had given him the nickname Mox. Thinking hard, Randy asked, "What happens if someone recognizes you?"

"Randy, the people who go to these things, are either drunk or have no clue who I was. They won't." Standing up, Randy stepped in front of Dean, staring into his blue eyes.

"I just don't want you to get hurt." His words were soft, causing Dean to smirk. Randy lightly kissed him, coughing when he pulled away. "What have you been eating?!"

"Coffee and a burrito," Dean chuckled.

"I don't care how worn out you are after your match, you will be punished," Randy smirked. Dean smiled; something about their relationship made it easy for them to flirt with each other.

Seth had just finished his third cup of coffee when Triple H called him into his office. The Chief gave him the "shut the door" look, which he did. Sitting down, Seth asked,

"What do you need?"

"The next part of the plan is ready," Triple H said. Seth cocked his head to the side.

"I didn't realize we had one."

"Eliminate Roman's support system, then eliminate him. Remember?" Seth nodded. Triple H stretched out his fingers, thinking.

"I can eliminate Bryan if you take Sting."

"You want me to kill Sting?" Seth fought to prevent his voice from cracking. Sting had been his hero as a kid; the cop children still looked up to. Was he really supposed to kill him?

"Is there a problem, Seth?" Triple H's tone was stern. 

"No, sir." 

"Good." Triple H stood up, tracing a finger over Seth's neck. "Because it would be in your best interest to do this." Seth nodded, trying not to shiver. He knew that if he failed, Triple H would break his neck in seconds. He left the office with conviction, his goal clear: eliminate Sting, any means necessary.

Chapter Text

Dean's fist crashed into the man's face. The crowd roared as he stumbled backward, nose already bleeding.

It was Dean's first match this month, against a new guy. These matches were often the most fun because everything mattered. Every month was considered its own season, which meant you had to make a good first impression.

After a few more minutes, the guy was pinned, giving him the win. Dean had a few thumbtacks in his back, but he didn't care in the slightest. The bloody matches meant everything to him; the adrenaline rushes were something you couldn't get anywhere else.

One of the doctors came down to the ring (if you could call it that), but Dean was already out the door. He couldn't risk anyone figuring out who he was. Besides, it wouldn't be Randy's first time removing objects from his body.

Randy was finishing a slice of pizza when Dean pulled up, hands shaking on the steering wheel. Opening the car door, he stumbled over to one of the benches, Randy already on his feet.

"What do I need to remove this time?" he asked. There was no sense of panic in his voice, another sign this was normal. Pulling off his cruddy shirt, Dean leaned forward. Eyes flickering to the silver objects in his back, Randy pulled out the tweezers.

They had done this several times before, but Dean still hissed at least once when Randy pulled the tacks out. There was no way to numb the pain. After he was done, Randy set the tacks aside and lightly kissed the red scars in his boyfriend's back. Dean smiled.

"You're the best, Randy."

"Thanks," Randy murmured. Dean slowly turned around on the bench, heart fluttering when he saw his face. Randy slowly kissed him, smiling. Dean's fingers went to the edges of his shirt, causing a laugh to stir.

Roman looked at the clock for the third time that hour, nervous. Daniel and Sting hadn't returned from their respective cases yet, which wasn't unusual. They didn't have anything special going on that night; eating Chinese food and watching bad cop movies was the nightly routine. Despite that, they were never this late.

His phone buzzed. Fishing it out of his pocket, Roman saw Daniel's number flash on the screen, along with a message.

Got hung up in traffic. Probably won't be home for another hour or so. Feel free to start the movie without me.

Leaning back in his chair, Roman yawned. The day had been exhausting: two drug busts and four soliciting calls. Sting would understand if he called off their plans.

I hate to bail on you, Sting, but I'm really exhausted and Daniel's stuck in traffic. I'm going home to get some sleep.

Not waiting for a response, Roman grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He nearly smacked into Seth in the parking lot. Muttering a simple, "Watch where you're going," he kept walking, not noticing the nervous look on Seth's face.

Seth's phone buzzed; a text from Triple H. It simply read,

Your turn.

The text from Daniel hadn't actually been from him. It had been from Hunter, who had been in the process of squeezing the life out of the rookie cop. His car had been driven to a friend's; it would be burned and bleached upon the hour. Now all Seth had to do was find Sting and eliminate him.

From a morning of casing, he knew Sting grabbed food from a local Chinese place, one that had a large alley and a strip club next door. Even so, Seth screwed a silencer onto his gun before starting the engine.

Sting had just grabbed Roman and Daniel's order (the text in his pocket had gone unread) and was walking down the alley when he heard the familiar click of a gun. He stopped, knowing instantly who was behind him.

"Hunter didn't have the gall to finish me himself, so he sent you, huh?"

"I'm just doing my job, Sting," Seth replied. Swallowing, Sting turned around. Watching him with tired eyes, he said,

"You're nervous. You appear confident, but your gun hand is probably cramping right about now."

"Is this the part where you tell me I'm being manipulated?" Seth chuckled. "Because trust me, Triple H is my friend, my mentor. He would never hurt me."

"That distinction belongs to your friends, Roman and-" Seth fired, the bullet hitting Sting in the center of his chest. He flew backward, the food scattering across the alley. Picking up the cartridge, Seth whispered,

"You didn't know him at all."

"Good job." Seth jumped out of his skin. "Relax, it's just me." Triple H was behind him. Stepping past him, he examined Sting and smiled. "I'll make sure Ricardo knows he's got another body coming his way."

"One more to go," Seth whispered, his throat suddenly dry. Triple H nodded. Seth turned to go, not realizing what would happen until a second before it did.

A bullet hit him in the side, knicking his left lung. Seth's knees buckled, his mouth open wide. He couldn't speak, pain searing through him. Triple H said quietly, voice stern as usual,

"It's like I told you years ago, Seth: there's always a plan B." He fired two more times, the first one hitting Seth's right knee. The second one hit the same spot as the very first one, driving the bullet that had knicked Seth's lung further into his body. Appearing on his right side, Triple H rubbed his hair and whispered, "Have fun."

Seth was panicking, confused. He watched Triple H leave, eyes wide in shock. After a few seconds, blood rose in his throat, and his legs tumbled out from under him, sending him to the ground.

Chapter Text

Darkness. Confusion. Sadness. Anger. The feeling of oxygen leaving his body.

Seth's eyes snapped open, inhaling loudly. After a few seconds, he realized he was in a bed, tubes in his nose and arms. Hospital; he was in a hospital.

There was a figure at the foot of the bed. His eyes adjusting, Seth made out the shape of a cast. The face came into focus. It was Finn Bálor, a cop from Ireland who had come to Vegas a few years ago.

The cast on his arm was Seth's fault. A few months ago, shortly after Dean's death, they had come back from a drug bust (regular occurrences for the Las Vegas Police Department) when Finn had just snapped. Drawing his gun, he had held Seth hostage, every cop in the building on alert. Even Roman had looked concerned.

That wasn't the point of the story. What was the point is that Seth had managed to talk Finn down and tackle him. But he had landed wrong, breaking his right arm. Things had gotten even worse once it leaked Finn had split-personality disorder; the press had made him the hero, and Seth the villain.

Finn's cast was no longer the kind that wrapped around your neck; he had traded it in after surgery for one of the itchy, "mobile" ones. Despite the incident, Seth didn't hate Finn. That being said, he was surprised to see him.

A pot of flowers and a card were sitting on Finn's knees. Looking at Seth, he smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I went to hell," Seth groaned. Finn chuckled.

"I can understand the feeling."

"Why are you here, Finn?"

"What do you mean?" Seth straightened up so he could see the man better.

"I mean, what's a split-personality cop whose arm I broke doing here to see me?" Smiling, Finn replied,

"I came here to thank you." Seth's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "I've known about my disorder my whole life but tried to deny it. After the leak, I got a call from Mick Foley." That made sense; Mick had suffered from split-personality disorder years ago, though his three alter-egos had faded away. "He suggested a support group for me. Stephanie offered to pay for it."

"Stephanie?" Seth coughed. An image of Triple H entered his brain, and his lip curled.

"She's not as bad as her husband," Finn said, understanding the look on his face. "She and I are going to put together an art show for Pride awareness." He handed Seth the card and placed the flowers on the table nearby. "By the way, someone else left you a present." Smiling, the Irishman turned to go.

"Finn?" He turned around, and Seth smiled. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Of course." A warm smile appearing on his face, Finn left the room. Turning his attention to the card, Seth opened it to find a drawing of his name in a funky style that seemed awfully familiar. After a few seconds, he realized why.

A few months ago, mysterious drawings had been popping up all over Las Vegas. Some were napkins left in coffee shops, others were done legally on the side of buildings. No one knew his name, the artist being referred to as "The Vegas Banksey." Under the drawing of Seth's name was a symbol made of triangles, the artist's signature. Below both drawings was a note from Finn.

People are always capable of change. Thank you for giving me courage.

Seth's mouth fell open in pleasant shock. He couldn't believe someone actually cared about him, the corrupt cop. Hearing that name in his brain made him shake his head. He wasn't that person anymore.

His attention turned to the second set of flowers. They were blue orchids, arranged perfectly and simply. Seth turned the card toward him, only to discover it was blank.

A nurse with a nametag reading "Bayley" came in to adjust his medication. She had a kind smile, and Seth felt he could trust her. Glancing at the flowers again, he asked,

"Do you know who brought these in?" She shook her head.

"I didn't get his name, unfortunately."

"What did he look like?" Spinning a pencil between her fingers, Bayley thought.

"He was wearing a leather jacket and a Bengals baseball cap. I think he had red hair, but it was hard to tell. Does that help?" 

"Yes." Seth exhaled lightly, trying not to panic. There was no way...it couldn't be possible. He had caused it, he knew there was no way...

Was Dean Ambrose still alive?

Chapter Text

Randy's eyes slowly fluttered open. The curtains were open, sun shining through. He smiled — a beautiful morning after an incredible evening.

Dean was next to him; hand draped lazily over his body. Rolling over, Randy grinned.

"Morning, Lunatic."

"Morning, Viper," Dean chuckled back. Holding his boyfriend's bare shoulder, Randy leaned forward and kissed him. Dean accepted it, but for once, he didn't push back.

"What's wrong?" Randy pulled away, frowning. There was a faraway look in Dean's eyes that signaled either guilt or fear. "Dean, what happened?"

"Triple H tried to kill Seth." Sitting up, Dean grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. Randy propped himself up on his elbow, startled.

"What do you mean he tried to?" Dean didn't say a word, leaving the room to get breakfast. Grabbing his phone, Randy opened the news app.

"COPS KILLED IN DRUG BUST" read the headline. Skimming the article, Randy saw Seth had been shot in an alleyway, Sting found across from him. There were bags of drugs at the scene, which seemed strange since neither man had done drugs in their life. Yes, there had been rumors with Sting, but Seth...he didn't drink much, he would never do drugs. Pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he raced downstairs.

On the stairs, Randy screeched to a halt. Dean was eating a bowl of cereal, holding an old picture of the Shield in his hand. That same faraway look was present in his pupils, and Randy suddenly knew why.

"How was he?" he asked, causing the Lunatic Fringe to jump. Setting the picture down he replied, not bothering to turn around,

"Injured, but alive. This has Triple H written all over it."

"Dean..."

"Don't!" Dean shot from his chair, spun around, and glared at Randy, a crazed expression of anger on his face. "He may have betrayed Roman and me, but the old Seth Rollins is in there somewhere, and I'm determined to get him back." Randy's pupils dilated again; this was not the first time a conversation regarding Seth had taken place.

"You..." He trailed off; it couldn't be said out loud.

"What do you think?"

Daniel and Sting's desks were empty. There was no news on the rookie's death (his body had been incinerated), but seeing the two vacant chairs made Roman realize he was gone. Just like Seth. Biting his tongue, he sat down.

There was probably going to be a service for Sting at some point. He was a good cop, Triple H's opinion on him notwithstanding, and he would be rewarded. Seth was up in the air, but as far as Roman was concerned, he could burn in hell for what he had done.

Turning on his monitor, Roman jumped when the screen went black. It was only for a second or two, but it startled him. Figuring it was just a glitch, he logged into the system.

The computer beeped, and a box reading "Login error" popped up on the screen. Roman narrowed his eyes, confused and suspicious. Usually, a login error meant more than just a forgotten password. Had he been hacked?

Roman's phone lit up, silenced but willing to disturb. Looking over, he saw it was a text from an unknown number. Shaking (he had seen this happen on TV so many times), he picked up his phone.

Delete the hospital security footage at 4:30 p.m. It will be replaced. I owe you a favor.

Roman stared, thinking. Hospital security footage? Why...Looking around, he carefully typed his password again. It worked this time.

On the screen was security footage from the local hospital, the timecode reading 4:30 p.m. Muting the computer and biting his lip, Roman hit play.

The camera in question was trained on the main entrance. As Roman watched, a figure entered, spoke to the nurse at the front desk, then turned and headed upstairs. He was wearing a baseball cap, his face low to the ground, but he was recognizable instantly. Roman knew his tics and nervous patterns.

Two minutes later he sent a text that read,

Done. You do owe me a favor, and I'm cashing in.

Not yet. For both our sakes.

Roman quietly scoffed. Typical.

Seth turned off the burner phone and looked over at the blonde man typing furiously. The light from his computer screen bounced off the midnight blue walls of the apartment, a curtain over the one window. The room was tiny (the sofa had blankets and a pillow because there was no room for a bed), but to Seth, this was paradise.

"Okay," the man said, a smirk appearing on his face. "If Triple H or one of his goons tries to look, they'll find nothing but blank footage." Seth nodded.

"Anything else I need to know about this burner?"

"Nope. Can't be traced; just don't use it in view of a security camera." The man turned around. "Listen, man, if you need to crash here for a few days, lay low..."

"Thanks, Jericho, but I'm good." Jericho rose an eyebrow, causing Seth to smile. "What?"

"You're a risky idiot."

"No..." Seth shook his head, slipping his new phone into a pocket. "I have a place to go."

Chapter Text

The brick building stood out like a sore thumb on a street filled with casinos and theatres. As far as its owner was concerned, the location was perfect. Standing on the curb, staring at the lovely sign reading "Lucky 13," Seth wondered if he was making a mistake.

They hadn't spoken in years. Anger had gotten the best of them, but Seth didn't have another choice. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the street and opened the door.

Rock music was blaring. There were only a few patrons, members of biker gangs around town. None of them would be running to the news office if they realized Seth was alive.

A man was standing behind the bar, wearing a dirty gray shirt and waiting for someone to serve. As he got closer, the smell of crushed cologne hit his nose, and Seth chuckled.

"Wow," he smirked, sitting down on one of the stools. "It's been four years, and Mike Mizanin has finally hit bottom." Mike rolled his eyes, glaring at him.

"Nice to see you too, Seth Rollins." They had a history; at one point, Mike and his girlfriend Maryse had been one of the most powerful (and corrupt) couples on the Strip. According to rumors, Maryse had died giving birth to what would have been their first child, and Mike had just spiraled. Apparently, those rumors were true.

"How are things?" Seth asked pleasantly. Mike didn't say a word, blinking. "Fine; whiskey, on the rocks." As the drink was poured, he whispered, "Mike, I'm sorry about Maryse."

"Yeah." Mike passed the whiskey over, looking at the ground to hide his tears. "I really thought she was the one. If only we hadn't postponed the ceremony."

"You guys were engaged?" Seth was legitimately surprised. Mike nodded.

"Right after the Tangiers scam. Remember that, Sethie?" Seth's lip curled; there was only one person who called him that. "Sorry, I forgot. Speaking of which..." Mike leaned forward, glancing around at the other patrons. "I heard about your death. Want to explain how you're still here?"

"It's complicated." Downing the last of his whiskey, Seth stood up. "Is he here?" Mike nodded.

"Key's in the usual place." Hidden behind a few beer bottles was a black and yellow ashtray; Seth, Dean, and Roman all had matching ones. Grabbing the key ring from it, Seth unlocked the door at the back of the room, closing and bolting it behind him.

A smell hit his nose as he walked up the stairs. It was a recognizable smell, and Seth shook his head. Some things never change.

Despite the rough bar downstairs, the apartment itself was still painted white. There was a bed against the wall, a window directly above it. Sitting on the floor, smoking cannabis, was a man with tattoos on his arms.

"I thought you were quitting," Seth smirked. The man jumped, smoke billowing from his mouth. Letting out a light cough, he dropped the joint into a black ashtray and smiled.

"You look pretty good for a dead man, Seth."

"You don't look any better, Corey." Slowly getting to his feet, Corey crossed the room and hugged Seth, clinging to him like a leaf. Lightly hugging him back, Seth whispered,

"How are you? Besides smelling terrible." Laughing, Corey pulled away.

"Sorry. And...better, now that I've seen you." Seth felt his cheeks turn pink; Corey had that effect even when he wasn't high.

"This is why we haven't seen each other in a year." Corey smiled.

"Hey, I gave you a roof over your head and comfort."

"And now I need the former." Seth looked around, choosing his words carefully. "Obviously, I can't just stay at a local hotel without someone...unpleasant recognizing me." Corey nodded.

"Well, I'd love to help you, Seth, but I can't."

"Why not?" Anger was bubbling in Seth's stomach. "Because it's been two years since you got a concussion, ending your LVPD career and our relationship?" He had gone too far, but Corey ignored it.

"I can't help you," he said calmly, bite in his voice, "because I'm moving out." Seth opened his mouth to speak, Corey cutting him off. "I'm keeping the bar, but Mike's getting this place. He needed a home first."

"So where are you going?"

"To live with a few friends." Corey was sweeping the joint into the trash. "My stuff's in the car...you want to come with me?" Seth sighed.

"Sure." They left through the fire escape, Seth being very careful to keep Corey in his sight at all times.

After 30 minutes of silence, they pulled up to a house at the very edge of Vegas. Corey got out and walked up the peeling steps, Seth following. When they knocked on the door, a voice shouted,

"It's open." Smirking, Corey opened the door.

A man was sitting on the sofa, reading a copy of Frankenstein. A woman was in the kitchen cooking muffins, and Seth instantly recognized both of them as Baron Corbin and Ruby Riott, rule benders and former juvenile delinquents.

Ruby looked up at Seth, eyes widening briefly, but said nothing. Corey strolled over to Corbin and, to Seth's surprise, kissed the back of his neck.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Corbin turned around, kissed Corey, then looked at Seth.

"What's he doing here?" Before Corey could answer, a young woman with black hair walked in, holding a bag of chocolate chips.

"Told you we had them, Ruby." Her voice was light, British. Ruby took the bag and snapped,

"Good for you, Paige." Turning back to Corbin, Corey said,

"Seth needs a place to stay, and the apartment's out." Throwing a couple of chocolate chips into her mouth, Paige said, looking over,

"My friends and I have needed a roommate. You can stay with us." Seth glanced at Corey, who nodded as if to say She's trustworthy.

"Okay, thank you." Grabbing her jacket, Paige nodded to the front door. Saying good-bye to Corey and the others, Seth followed her to her car, a shiny black van.

"You're Seth Rollins, right?" Paige asked after they had gotten on the highway. Seth silently nodded. "Don't worry; your secret is safe with us." They rode the rest of the way in silence, Paige occasionally singing along to the radio.

Seth's new quarters turned out to be a house nestled in the corner of Vegas. The Strip was only a quarter-mile away, and as they pulled into the driveway, he wondered how good of an idea this actually was.

Paige opened the front door, listened for a few seconds, then smiled. Light snoring was coming from the sofa, where they found two blonde women sleeping, tangled in each other's arms. Smirking at Seth, Paige shouted,

"Wake up!" The two women stirred, looking annoyed but not startled. The younger woman sat up and snapped,

"What is it now, Paige?" She trailed off after seeing Seth and asked, "How...is he...?"

"Alive?" Seth finished. The woman nodded. Paige chuckled,

"Perhaps we should have introductions first. Seth, this is Alexa Bliss-"

"Call me Lexi," she said, shaking his hand.

"And Charlotte Flair." The older woman nodded, shaking Seth's hand as well.

"'Flair.' That name sounds familiar." Seth settled across from Charlotte and Alexa, Paige going to fetch bottles of ginger ale.

"My dad's a crime boss in North Carolina," Charlotte replied. Seth suddenly had flashbacks to an office party, with an older friend of Triple H's being there.

"He's a friend of my old mentor." Charlotte's eyes sparkled, and she asked, already knowing the answer,

"And who's that?"

"Triple H."

"Good old Hunter Hearst Helmsley," Lexi chuckled. Paige returned with ginger ale, and the four roommates chatted. Seth learned Charlotte and Lexi had been dating for a few months, and Paige used to be a bartender at Lucky 13. After a while, he stifled a yawn (despite it being only 3 p.m.), causing Paige to chuckle.

"There's a spare bedroom upstairs. You can take that." She gave him directions, Seth thanked her, then said goodbye to Charlotte and Lexi. The bedroom was at the end of the hall, a bathroom right next door.

Pulling off his jacket and not bothering to close the door, Seth crashed onto the bed. He was so tired he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

It was a calm evening, about three weeks since Seth had moved in. Movie nights were a weekly occurrence, and tonight's flick was Frankenstein.

Charlotte and Lexi were conked out on the sofa, fingers intertwined and Lexi's head on Charlotte's shoulder. Paige was sitting next to them, chowing down popcorn and watching the movie raptly.

Seth was in the kitchen, getting a small refill of popcorn. He was tired, eyelids barely open. His phone was sitting on the counter, along with the others, and it lit up. A text message from Roman.

You there?

Yeah...what's up?

It felt strange, texting so cordially. As Seth expected (and appreciated), Roman quickly dropped the formalities.

After Hunter's little stunt with you and Sting, I took the opportunity to put a tracker on his van. For the past thirty minutes, it's been sitting outside a house that unofficially belongs to Randy Orton and considering their history...

Fine. I'll check on it.

Seth...be careful.

You going soft on me, Roman?

No, I'm saying be careful because...based on how he's been acting, I don't think Triple H knows you're still alive.

Seth's heart leaped into his throat. Roman texted him the address (it was only a few miles away), and he quickly headed outside. Paige didn't even look up.

The house in question was outside of Vegas, situated in a large neighborhood. All the lights were off, save for a couple of street lamps, and it made Seth nervous. Any second now, a masked psycho with a chainsaw was going to pop out of the bushes and kill him. Never mind Triple H.

There were no cars outside Randy's house. Even so, Seth parked a few blocks away and looked over his shoulder as he walked to the front door.

The door was old, creaky, and slightly off its hinges. Regretting his decision to come unarmed, Seth lightly pushed the door open with his foot. The smell of weed, air freshener, and other unpleasant things hit his nose. One scent, in particular, stood out: blood.

Lying on the floor in the middle of the room was Randy. His eyes were a strange green color, a syringe with an orange liquid sitting next to him. His chest was moving, but just barely.

Randy's eyes widened. He looked at Seth, opened his mouth to speak...and nothing came out, save for the smell of blood. His breath slowed, then came to a stop. Just like that, he was gone.

"No..." Seth knelt, staring into his coworker's eyes. Their relationship was very complicated, and now a bunch of old emotions were rushing through. Reaching forward to close Randy's eyes, he whispered, "I'm so sorry..."

The syringe interested him. Leaning over, Seth picked it up. He had never seen a liquid that color before, even from three years in Narcotics. Whatever this was, it was powerful, lethal, and very, very dangerous.

There was a buzzing sound. Looking around, Seth saw Randy's phone was in his pocket. There was only one person who could be calling.

Dean was worried. Randy had left four hours ago to get a supply of plants from the "drug hut" (as he called it) and still hadn't returned. Biting his thumb, he thought about what to do.

"He's probably dead," Dean whispered to himself. "There's no point in calling." He was pacing, mind whirring at the speed of light. "But...what if he isn't? He probably isn't. This happens sometimes, maybe he got stuck in traffic." Yes, that was the reasonable explanation.

Picking up his phone, Dean punched in Randy's number and held his breath. Closing his eyes, he chewed on his thumb until the call connected.

Nothing. He could hear the sound of someone breathing, but it wasn't Randy. Tears forming, Dean whispered, his voice cracking,

"Randy? You there?" No response. "Randy, it's me. Listen...I just need to know you're alright. Okay? That's not too much to ask, is it?" He chuckled, trying to deny what was happening. "You must think I'm a terrible boyfriend. I mean, you do all the work, and I'm just here for emotional support." A shallow breath escaped Dean, and he sobbed, hysterical, "Randy, please! Say something! Please!" Once again, no answer.

Seth was silently crying as he listened to Dean's heartbroken voice. He suspected the Lunatic knew who was on the other end, but it didn't come up. After sobbing for a few more seconds, the call ended. The name "Deano" flashed on the screen, causing him to bitterly smile. How could everything have gone so badly?

He was dizzy. Kneeling on the floor, Seth put his head between his knees and took deep breaths until he calmed down. This needed to end. He required answers.

Dean's face was blank, mute. Sitting on the floor of the warehouse, drunk and exhausted, he picked up the scalpel. How ironic that after all he had done to help, Randy wasn't around to stop him.

The cut was easy. Dean felt nothing. Peeling back his skin, staring contently at the broken flesh, he sighed. An identical cut was made on the other side; dastardly symmetry. Dropping the blade, Dean lay on the floor and silently sobbed, letting everything wash over him.

Chapter Text

The only thing Seth had touched at the crime scene was Randy's phone, and he had thought to wear gloves (leather, pretty, expensive). Snapping a picture of the orange liquid in the syringe, he drove home, avoiding as many cameras as possible. Jericho had provided a "shadow map," which was very helpful.

Scrubbing his gloves clean in the bathroom, Seth texted Roman the picture. He didn't care it was late, he needed answers. After the blood was gone, he began to brush his teeth.

Randy's dead, isn't he?

Staring at the text, Seth let out a tight groan. Holding his toothbrush between his teeth, he typed out a response.

This vial was next to his body. Doesn't look like anything I've seen before, but we're no longer in Narcotics. Think you can search the database for me?

If Hunter is behind this, won't he get suspicious?

Hang on...

Seth scrolled through his messages, locating an email from Jericho. Pulling up the attached file, he sent it to Roman.

Jericho made you a dummy log-in. Triple H won't suspect a thing.

Why can't you do this yourself?

I'm on the run, jackass.

...Fine. I'll look at it and get back to you tomorrow.

I could hear the sigh in your voice.

You're a real smartass, sometimes.

And you're a jackass. Dean's a hardass, so that makes three.

Thanks. See you tomorrow.

Or something.

Seth woke up to the sound of his phone beeping. Rolling over, he grabbed it and opened his messages.

Where did you find this?

And a good morning to you too.

Seth, I'm serious. You're certain this was next to Randy's body.

Positive...what's wrong?

It took Roman a long time to type his response. Seth went downstairs to get breakfast; Lexi said good morning, and he grunted a response. When Roman's response came, he did a spit-take, launching water all over the kitchen.

This drug you found, it's something called Apex. Apparently, the CIA developed it illegally as an interrogation tactic.

"Everything okay, Seth?" Lexi asked, wiping up his mess. Seth didn't respond, rapidly texting Roman back.

I'm sensing a "but" here.

Guess who approved the drug's fabrication.

Triple H?

Nope. Vince McMahon, Stephanie's father.

Eyes widening, Seth plopped onto the sofa. Lexi watched him, worried and confused. She knew very well something was wrong, but he wouldn't tell her what.

Didn't he pass away a few years ago?

I'm getting to that. The government eventually found out and ordered all vials to be incinerated. But Triple H managed to find a loophole, and the drugs were sent to a building he owned.

Let me guess...he wasn't married to Stephanie at this point.

They were engaged, and apparently, Vince wasn't happy about it. Three weeks after the drug's supposed incineration, he died from a heart attack.

What were his symptoms?

Normal heart attack signs...for the most part. His eyes were a strange green color.

Randy's eyes were green too...

Seth's mind was racing. An idea was forming, one he didn't like.

Maybe Vince figured out Triple H kept the drugs for himself, got angry, and Hunter killed him to shut him up.

That doesn't sound wrong. Triple H and Stephanie got married two months later, and a few days after, the incinerator turned on in the middle of the night.

He must have been covering his tracks. Got rid of almost everything.

There's one thing I can't figure out; why kill Randy now? Why not do it after he left?

The timing would have been too much of a coincidence.

But couldn't Hunter have gotten the case thrown out?

Seth bit his lip. The conversation with Finn from earlier was coming back to him.

I have to go.

What is it?

Let's just say...I don't think Stephanie is as loyal to her husband as she claims. And not in the way you're thinking.

Oh, I get exactly what you're saying. Do you think she's in danger?

Let me handle this, Roman.

Rising from the sofa, Seth stormed upstairs, banging into Charlotte on her way down. She looked at Lexi in confusion, who didn't know what to say.

After a long day, Triple H and Stephanie drove home. They lived in a beautiful mansion a mile from Vegas, and the house was their pride and joy. The automated gate whirred open, a smooth female voice welcoming them home. Everything was magical...almost.

Getting out of the car, Triple H took Stephanie's hand and they walked up the front steps. Stepping inside, the couple took off their jackets. Then, turning around, Stephanie gasped.

Seth was sitting on the grand staircase, arms resting on his knees. His leather jacket was slick from the light drizzle, but he didn't care. Stephanie's eyes widened, and as her husband turned around, she whispered,

"Seth...what's going on?" Triple H looked stunned. Rising to his feet, Seth drew his pistol and growled, glaring in the Chief's direction,

"We need to talk."

Chapter Text

"Seth..."

"Shut up." Cocking his gun, Seth glared at Triple H. "Turn around and get in the car." He reluctantly obeyed, Stephanie close behind. Seth knew they were already thinking of an escape route, but said nothing.

Triple H got in the driver's seat, Stephanie on the passenger side. Drawing a sticky note from his pocket, Seth passed it to Stephanie and said coldly,

"Punch in this address, then tell your husband to start driving. Got it?"

"Of course." Stephanie was shaking madly, and Seth felt kind of sorry for her. He should have known she wasn't anything like her husband.

The address was punched in, and Triple H started driving. Seth kept his pistol up at all times, pressing it to the back of the chair. If an escape attempt was made, he could instantly pull the trigger and drive a bullet into his former mentor's heart.

Five minutes before they arrived, Seth got out his phone and texted Roman his location, along with the words, "Just in case." He wasn't sure how his...friend would react, but he had to do something.

"Seth..." Stephanie looked over at him, sighed, then fell silent. Seth rose his gun from the chair, pointing it at Triple H's shoulder. He was starting to relax, which probably wasn't a good thing considering the corrupt chief was at his mercy.

By the time they had arrived, it was pouring. Stephanie and Triple H got out, the former letting out a quiet gasp. They were back at the warehouse, the place where it had all started.

"Keep walking," Seth snapped. The couple obeyed, stepping inside. Even though his gun wasn't silenced, Seth didn't close the door behind them; they were in the middle of nowhere, so there was no one around to hear the gunshots.

"What do you want?" Triple H asked, turning to face him. Stephanie followed suit, terrified out of her mind. Seth swallowed.

"I need you and Stephanie to do something very important."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"This city has suffered because of you...because of us." Seth's throat went cold, which wasn't surprising; it was the first time admitting his guilt. "I will gladly tell them everything, but the two of you need to stop your antics and admit your crimes."

"Okay." Stephanie was quiet, scared. Triple H looked at her in shock, but she kept her eyes on Seth. "I agree with you, Seth. The department, the town, it's all fallen because of the things we've done, and it needs to stop."

"What else has he been telling you?" Triple H's voice was gruff and angry; not a good combination for him. Stephanie's eyes widened.

"Nothing! I swear!"

"You're lying." Triple H drew a gun from his jacket but, instead of targeting his wife, turned and fired at Seth.

He had been expecting this. Seth instantly crouched, his knees quietly popping. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, turned around, and soared back toward them. Stephanie was hit square in the chest and went down in a second.

"No!" Triple H was on his knees, cradling his wife in his arms. Seth was on his feet again, mouth open in shock. "You took her from me..." Triple H slowly rose to his feet. "You took her from me!" He turned, ready to fire once again. And, once again, Seth was ready.

He fired one shot. The Game's knees buckled, and he hit the floor. Approaching him, Seth kicked his gun out of the way and crouched. Staring at his former mentor, he whispered,

"I never intended to kill either of you, Hunter. I just brought my gun along to get you in the car." Triple H's eyes widened in shock, horror, then his face softened. He was dead.

Seth wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, trying to process what had just happened. He snapped back into the present when the sound of sirens hit his ears. However, nothing was done. At this point, it didn't matter what happened; he deserved it.

"Seth?!" Roman's voice. A flashlight beam hit his face, and Seth turned around. Roman was in the doorway, flashlight in one hand and gun in the other. His face softened.

"I had to..." Seth's voice was shaky. Dropping his gun, he rose to his feet. He didn't know what to say.

Roman loosened the grip on his gun; a silent message. Seth walked toward him, picking up speed, and rushed the older man in a hug. His vest and hair were slick from the downpour, but he didn't care. Sometimes, you just need a hug.

A tiny smile appearing on his face, Roman returned Seth's embrace. There was so much they would have to deal with, but for now, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the present moment.

Chapter Text

It felt strange, sitting back down at his old desk. Tracing a finger across the edges of the wood, Seth flashed back to his time in Narcotics, back when everything had been slightly less complicated.

He was doing better. They had come back to the station a few hours ago, where Roman had given Seth a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. No one had asked questions; they simply ignored the elephant in the room.

Roman was in the chief's office now, explaining what had happened to Kurt Angle. A hardened veteran from Pennsylvania, he had been promoted in the wake of Triple H's death. There would no doubt be an interrogation sooner or later, but Seth didn't mind in the slightest. If anything, he was looking forward to it.

"How are you doing?" Roman asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Seth shrugged.

"Better." He looked up, smiling at his friend. "Thank you, Roman."

"For what?"

"Not leaving me to starve in that warehouse." Roman let out a sharp chuckle.

"Hey, we Hounds of Justice stick together."

"Sort of." Seth's face fell; he still missed Dean. Roman looked over his shoulder and let out a tight gasp. Eyebrows furrowing, Seth spun around in his chair.

Standing in the doorway, tired but alive, was a red-haired man in a leather jacket. Bandages coiled his wrists, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Seth's lip trembled, and Roman inhaled. The entire squad had gone silent.

Dean looked around, his eyes eventually landing on Seth. A tiny smirk appearing on his face, he started toward him. There was no sign of a threat in his movements, but Roman still silently motioned for everyone to stand down.

Seth rose from his chair. After staring at him for a few seconds, Dean wrapped his arms around his friend in a tight hug.

"I missed you so much." The words were hushed, but they were there. Seth smiled, holding Dean as he sobbed. Roman stepped forward, almost joining the hug, then retreated. They needed their moment.

Someone cleared his throat. Breaking apart, Seth and Dean turned to see Kurt Angle watching them, a tiny smile on his face. Eyes falling on Seth, he said kindly,

"As much as I hate to interrupt this reunion, we need to talk." Seth nodded understandably, turning to look at his friends.

"Can they watch the interview?" Kurt silently nodded.

They walked into the interrogation room and sat down. Roman and Dean pulled up chairs on the other side of the glass, not sure what to say. As Kurt turned on the recorder, Dean silently reached over and squeezed his friend's shoulder. Roman smiled at the gesture.

"Please state your name for the record." Kurt's voice was quiet, friendly. Seth took a deep breath, shoving down the smart-ass tendencies rising in his stomach, and replied,

"Seth Rollins."

"Seth, do you agree to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth in this interview."

"Of course." Seth smiled. "That's why we're here."

"Exactly." Kurt swallowed. "Now Seth, we are going to start from the beginning. A few years ago, you shot your two friends, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose, in cold blood. Is this true?"

"Yes."

"You did so under Hunter Helmsley's command, yes?"

"That's correct. However..." Seth looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "I did not do it under my own free will." Roman's upper lip curled in anger, Dean's eyes widening. They didn't say a word, not wanting to miss anything that came out of Seth's mouth.

"Please explain that," Kurt said, his face shifting to one of mute shock. Seth nodded.

"A few years after Roman, Dean, and I came here, Triple H wanted us to help him. Being the naive idiots that we were, we agreed. He needed errand boys, people who wouldn't ask questions. For a while, we were that.

"After a while, however, we grew tired of being lapdogs. We wanted more, and so we told Triple H we weren't going to help him anymore."

"What was his reaction?"

"He transferred us to Narcotics and sent drug dealers after us." Dean stifled a chuckle at Seth's deadpan tone; Roman looked over and simply rose an eyebrow.

"Do you have proof of this?" Kurt asked. Seth bit his tongue.

"A couple of guys told us they had been sent by Hunter. Honestly, for most of them, we could just tell. I'm sure if you checked his finances, there'd be a couple of red flags."

"A team is combing through it as we speak. Now, what did you mean when you said-"

"I didn't attack my friends under my own free will?" Seth chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, a couple of months after the utter chaos in Narcotics began, Triple H called me into his office. He said I had a fire in me, and he needed that fire. There was no downright question at first, but I knew exactly what he wanted."

"A lackey."

"Of a sort."

"What did you say?" Seth chuckled again, biting his tongue a second time.

"I told him he could go suck an egg. He didn't take too kindly to that, as you can imagine. He..." Seth's voice cracked, and he winced. "He told me that if I didn't help him, he'd kill Roman and Dean and if I told anybody..." Taking a shaky breath, he closed his eyes. "If I told anybody, he'd kill me."

"A no-win situation," Kurt said, silently passing over a box of tissues. Seth took one, nodding.

"I knew that if I joined, I could keep them safe. It's exactly why Dean survived." On the other side of the glass, Dean's eyes were closed, and he was trying not to cry. Roman was close to tears himself.

"Did you have any idea Triple H would try to kill you?" To Kurt's surprise, Seth snorted.

"Of course I did. It was always a question of when not if. I knew the instant he told me to kill Sting I was doomed."

"After you woke up in the hospital and decided to go on the run...did you have a plan?"

"No." Seth stared at the table, lost in thought. "But you have to understand, I had no intention of killing him."

"You held him at gunpoint and forced him into a car." There was a bite in Kurt's tone. Seth nodded.

"The gun only had one bullet in it, and that was in case of emergencies. The safety was on until he fired at me." Seth's shoulders sagged, and he put his head on the table. "Kurt, please..." When he looked up at the chief, his eyes were full of tears. "You have to believe me." Kurt thought for a few seconds.

"I do." He looked over at the glass, thinking. "I'll have to interview your friends; you understand that, right?"

"Of course." Seth nodded. Kurt did just that, picking apart Roman and Dean. Dean admitted to helping Randy sell drugs, and Roman admitted to helping Seth. Seth was brought back in, where he explained the rest of the details.

After three long weeks, the verdict was delivered. Seth, Dean, and Roman were cleared of all charges.

Chapter Text

It was a hot August evening. It had been a long day at the station, and now the Hounds of Justice were at Lucky 13, trying to cool off.

It had been two months since their reunion, and everything was business as usual. Seth was amazed his brothers had quickly forgiven him for everything after hearing the real story. Roman and Dean had never doubted him for a second, a sign of true friendship.

They were all various levels of drunk. Roman was on his second glass of beer, Seth had just sucked down his third whiskey shot, and Dean...well, to be honest, Seth could smell him from halfway across the room. He was that drunk, jokingly flirting with Mike. The bartender had recently announced he was moving to New Orleans, and that meant the Shield got his apartment.

Roman set down his tab, got to his feet (shakily) and headed to the door. Seth wished him good night, Dean grunting in his drunken stupor; Roman chuckled at the latter's gesture.

An hour later, Seth finally got up. He hadn't been drinking that long, instead keeping an eye on Dean. But now his eyelids were getting heavy, a sign it was time for bed. Mike promised to keep an eye on the Lunatic, silently nodding good night.

Roman had taken the bed under the window, and when Seth arrived upstairs, he found the Big Dog fast asleep. He and Dean had rooms at the end of the hall, the reasoning being that Roman was a light sleeper and if someone tried to break in, he could easily punch them in the face.

Brushing his teeth, Seth contemplated his reflection. He looked older, yes, but also happier. And he was happier. No more hiding, no more lies; just spending time with the people he loved.

The bathroom door slammed open. It was Dean, and from the smell of it, he had drunk a lot. Seth grunted, slightly annoyed, then tried to focus on brushing his teeth.

Dean didn't move. Looking up at the mirror, Seth saw where his eyes were going and blushed. Straightening up, he spit out his toothpaste and cleaned his toothbrush, trying to ignore what had happened. Drunk people oogle their friends all the time, right?

"Seth..." Dean's voice was watery, but clear enough. Seth turned around, rolling his eyes, and saw how close his friend was. Shutting the door, Dean leaned in, his intentions extremely clear. To his credit, he almost succeeded.

Seth tilted his head to the side at the last second; Dean missed his lips and grazed the corner of his mouth. He tried to lean in compensation, and Seth went to the other side, avoiding his advances.

What amazed him was Dean wasn't trying to do too much. He had Seth in an enclosed space, entirely at his mercy, and all he was trying to do was kiss him. His hands were resting on the sink to keep him balanced, and he wasn't going for Seth's neck or jaw. Just his lips.

After a few seconds, Seth messed up. Dean grazed his lips, and he turned his head, accidentally pressing into it. Pulling away, the Lunatic smirked, satisfied. Seth pushed him back, then stormed out of the bathroom. His heart was racing.

Locking the door behind him, Seth got into bed and thought about what had just happened. Despite how brief it was, he had to admit Dean was a good kisser. Now his body was craving those kisses, fighting for more of them. He wanted nothing more than to just bury himself in Dean Ambrose, hold him and never let go-

Seth blinked, waking himself up. No. He was not having those thoughts, especially not now. Dean had been drunk, and he was not taking advantage of that. Now the idea of sleep frightened him.

His worries weren't the only thing that kept Seth awake. It was sweltering in his room, and he just couldn't get comfortable. Taking off his shirt and throwing off the blankets did nothing. After a few hours of restlessness, he finally got up.

A few mobile fans were lingering around, and he needed one of them. Standing out in the hallway, the sound of light snoring hit Seth's left ear. Dean.

Creeping down the hall, he poked his head into Dean's room. The Lunatic Fringe was fast asleep, lying on his back and still in his shirt and jeans. Seth smiled, amused by their clashing styles of clothing (sweatpants don't go with jeans), then headed back out to the main room.

One of the fans had wheels on the bottom of it, and Seth took that one into Dean's room. Despite knowing how heavily he slept, he still turned the fan to the lowest setting, then smiled. He looked so peaceful...

Unfortunately, the other fan did not have wheels, forcing Seth to carry it. The thing wasn't light either, and after easing his door open, the fan hit the floor with a thud, stubbing his toe. Biting his hand, he swore.

"Seth?" He turned around. Roman was standing in the doorway, looking rather confused. "What's going on?"

"Why aren't you..." The next word that almost came out of Seth's mouth was "shirtless," but it was the alcohol in his body talking. Aside from a few days in training, Roman always slept with a shirt on, something he felt strange for knowing.

"Awake?" Roman chuckled. Seth nodded. "I heard noises and wanted to investigate. Now, what are you doing?"

"It's hot, so I grabbed one of the fans." Roman's eyes flickered to the right.

"And you also grabbed one for Dean?" Seth felt himself go red, and the Big Dog knowingly smiled. "Okay. Good night, Seth."

"Night." Roman shut the door behind him, and Seth turned on the fan, cranking it all the way up. He climbed back into bed and quickly fell asleep, the sensation of Dean's kiss lingering.

Chapter Text

Seth's eyes opened, a tiny groan escaping his lips. He had slept like a rock, yet knew precisely why he had made that noise. Wonderful.

Roman's bed was empty, and there was a wicker basket sitting on the kitchen counter. In front of it was a note, which a sleepy Seth picked up and read.

Mike gave us some blueberry muffins; I'm at the store buying more groceries. Try not to mess up the sofa, would you?

Very clever, Roman, Seth thought, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. Very, very clever. Grabbing one of the muffins, he pulled up a stool and chewed, trying not to dwell on the night before.

Dean stumbled in, eyes puffy and exhausted. Picking up a muffin, he grunted,

"Where's Roman?"

"Buying groceries," Seth replied. Dean rose an eyebrow. "Honest!" Nodding, the older man sat down in a chair and for five minutes, they ate in silence.

"So..." Dean was tearing away at bits of his muffin, trying to gather his thoughts. "Are we going to talk about last night?"

"How much do you remember?" Seth asked. He remembered every bit of it, but then again, he hadn't downed a countless number of beers. Dean looked at the counter, narrowing his eyes and thinking.

"I remember stumbling upstairs...you pushing me back...then getting hit with a fan."

"Nothing in the middle?" Dean shook his head.

"What happened?"

"You..." The words caught in Seth's mouth. "I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and you tried to kiss me." Dean's eyes widened, but for some strange reason, it was more out of fright then surprise.

"Did I succeed?" Seth didn't know how to respond. He knew exactly what was going through his friend's mind, and...maybe those same thoughts were going through his mind too.

"Technically, yes." Seth rose from his chair, plate in hand. Walking over to the sink, he washed it, thinking. Then, turning off the water, he whispered, "But I really don't think it counted."

"Then I guess we'll have to try again." Dean was on his feet. A smirk crossing his face, Seth looked over his shoulder to see his friend grinning at him. Turning around, he walked around the counter and, without stopping, took Dean's face in his hands and kissed him.

Dean smiled, lightly pressing back. After a few seconds, they broke apart, and he whispered,

"I've been waiting a long time to do that, you know." Seth laughed, nodding. He leaned in for another kiss, which Dean accepted.

Randy's face flashed through his mind. Dean froze, tensing up. Seth instantly pulled away, wishing he hadn't looked at his friend's face. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking, terrified.

"What's the matter?" Dean looked at Seth, and when he tried to speak, his voice broke.

"Randy...I miss him so much." Reaching down, Seth grabbed Dean's left wrist and lightly squeezed. He had seen the scars, but they had never talked about them.

"I know, buddy. And, as weird as this sounds, me too." Dean's face softened, a tiny smile forming.

"Really?" Seth nodded.

"Of course." Looking at his friend, he whispered, "If you don't want to do this, we don't have to. I'm not trying to push you away, but..." Dean understood. Nodding, he leaned forward and kissed Seth, causing a surprised smile to form on the Architect's face.

Chapter Text

A year had passed, and things were going really well. Seth and Roman had busted a corrupt cop ring in D.C. after being brought in as correspondents. The only frustrating thing was Dean's progress. Despite all the time that had gone by, his paperwork still hadn't cleared, which meant he couldn't get back on the job yet. And that wasn't the only thing.

After only a few sessions, the on-call psychologist had diagnosed Dean with PTSD. Completely understandable, considering everything that had occurred, but Seth still felt guilty. Sitting at Foley's, chewing on an ice cube, he contemplated an alternate future where he hadn't taken Triple H's deal. Sure, he'd probably be dead, but he wouldn't have to see his friend suffer.

Seth was also angry at the department. He had a sneaking suspicion they were holding up the paperwork because of the PTSD diagnosis, which wouldn't be surprising. Even without Triple H's iron grip, the higher-ups were useless in times like this.

His phone beeped. Looking over, Seth saw a text from Roman and chuckled, thinking of their secret correspondents long ago. However, the smile slipped off his face when he saw the message.

He had another nightmare.

For the past few weeks, Dean had been suffering crippling nightmares, waking up and screaming in the middle of the night. Seth had tried his best to comfort him, but Roman had soon landed on nightmare duty. Dean understood this perfectly; he and Roman got along better on a friendly level, which was strange considering they weren't dating.

How is he?

Stormed out without a word. I'm worried about him.

Seth didn't know what to say. Swallowing, he jumped when an alert popped up on the screen.

"ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY"

It felt crazy they had been dating for a year. It seemed like just yesterday, they had kissed for the first time and launched into a relationship. But that had given him an idea.

I'll try to talk to him.

On your anniversary?

It'll be fine, RoRo.

Shut up.

When he pulled up to the station two hours later, Seth instantly knew something was up. Roman was standing on the curb waiting for him, looking very nervous. Getting out of the car, he asked,

"What happened?"

"Dean hasn't shown up for work, and we can't find him anywhere." Roman held the door for Seth, who walked inside and plopped into his chair. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"You haven't seen him since his nightmare?"

"Nope." They were both thinking the same thing.

The door opened, and there was Dean, a big grin on his face. Looking up, Seth shot from his chair and yelled,

"Where have you been?! We've been worried about you!"

"I'm not allowed to go out alone?" Dean smirked. There was a laugh in his voice, and Seth froze, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?" Dean looked around, smiling.

"We should tell our coworkers about our relationship."

"Okay..." A thought was creeping into Seth's mind, but it was such a ridiculous theory, he ignored it. He started to turn, and Dean grabbed his shoulder.

"No, Seth. Not in the way you're thinking." Roman's eyes widened, realizing exactly what was about to happen. Stepping back, Dean reached into his pocket, then got down on one knee. "Seth Rollins, my best friend, will you marry me?" It was very quiet in the squad room, and everyone had a knowing look in their eyes. Seth had no idea what to say; words failed him.

He remembered an old conversation, back during training. They had been doing firearm practice, and Seth's score had perfectly matched Dean's. Looking at him, he had joked,

"Guess we're soulmates or something." How right he had been.

"Seth?" Roman's voice snapped him back into the present. "What's your answer?" Dean looked worried, causing Seth to smile.

"Of course, my lovable soulmate." Kneeling, he kissed Dean, everyone cheering and applauding. It wasn't until they stood up and Dean slipped the engagement ring onto Seth's finger that everything finally clicked. They were actually engaged...and it felt terrific.

Chapter Text

They were a few days away away from the wedding. It was October, a beautiful month, and Seth was excited. He and Dean were going to tie the knot on October 31st, something the lunatic had surprisingly agreed to. Though, getting engaged on the day you get your job back is enough to make anyone ecstatic and agreeable.

It was a slow day at the office. The air conditioning wasn’t working, which meant fans were scattered all over the place. Sitting at his desk, fanning himself with a piece of paper, Seth didn't realize there was someone behind him.

"Seth?" He knew that voice. Smirking, Seth spun his chair around. Finn was standing in front of him, looking shocked. After a few seconds, a huge grin appeared on his face. "I knew it! I knew you'd come back!"

"It's nice to see you, Finn." Seth genuinely meant that. "How's...?" He trailed off, not sure what to say. Finn read his mind.

"Therapy's going great. The urges in my body have started going away, which is good." Nodding, Seth rose from his chair.

"I'm going to get some coffee. Want any?"

"No thanks." Shooting the older man a smile, Seth headed over to the coffee pot. He quickly discovered they were out of beans, which required a trip to the back room.

The storage room was a small, cold, metal box, filled to the brim with old folders and evidence bags not yet filed in the proper places. He wasn't sure who had started this tradition, but the squad had started keeping the bags of coffee on a shelf here, waiting.

Seth had just reached up and grabbed a bag when he heard a thump behind him. He had barely enough time to lower his arm before a blur pushed him into the wall and kissed him.

It was Finn. His kisses were harsh, veering into biting territory, and his mood was aggressive. Seth remained still, not sure what state of mind his coworker was in. He did not want to have a gun drawn on him again.

There was a thump outside; the sound of footsteps. A pair of fingers hooked around the door, and in the two seconds that Finn was distracted, Seth finally got the courage to push him off. He tumbled to the floor as Dean stepped into the doorway. He was shaking, tears in his eyes, and his eyes traveled between them. He knew exactly what had happened.

"Seth..." Finn looked terrified. Kneeling, Seth forcefully grabbed his left arm and snarled, rage in his eyes,

"I'm not blind, Finn. I've known you liked me since the second I woke up in the hospital and for a while, I tried to deny it. However, if you try something like that again, alter-ego or not, I will end you. Got it?" Nodding, Finn scrambled to his feet and dashed out of the room, nearly hitting Dean in the shoulder.

Dean was shaking. Pushing himself off the wall, Seth took a deep breath, lost for words.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Dean shook his head in an 'I know' kind of way. He was still shaking, and after a moment or two, Seth realized something else had happened. "What is it?"

Dean rushed forward, grabbed Seth by the collar, and buried him in a hug. He was crying, shaking, and Seth had no idea what to say or do.

"What happened, Dean?"

"Roman's dead." It took a moment or two for the words to set in.

"WHAT?!"

Chapter Text

It had taken so much heartbreak, so much blood, so much sacrifice, but they were finally here. It was finally, finally wedding day.

Standing in front of the mirror, glancing at his white suit, Seth thought about everything that had transpired since October. He thought about holding Dean in storage, listening as his friend explained Roman's leukemia, something he had been living with since training. How the disease had finally taken his life, and how the hospital had called Dean to let him know. He couldn't imagine getting that phone call.

It was August 20th. They were getting married outside in the lovely town of Brooklyn, the morning sun sending down rays of good luck.

There weren't many people sitting on wicker chairs. Paige, Lexi, and Charlotte had all been invited, along with Ruby, Corey, Corbin and, after lots of convincing from Dean, Finn. Foley was catering the event, and even though they had insisted otherwise, he was graciously doing it for free.

Kurt poked his head in, smiling briefly. Seth turned to face him, and he nodded.

"We're ready." Picking up his bouquet, made of the blue orchids he had received so many months ago, Seth followed Kurt out of the tent.

It was a warm sunny day. The onlookers stood as Seth began to walk down the aisle. Mike was at the other end; he had gotten an online certification at Dean's request. To his left, a huge grin on his face, was the Lunatic Fringe.

Dean's hair was short, his face now sporting a full-grown beard. He had thrown himself into the gym since Roman's death, putting on a few pounds of muscle as a result. Seth threw a grin his way as he walked up the aisle.

They turned to face each other. Whispering 'good luck,' Mike looked up at the audience.

"Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here today to join Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose in holy matrimony. Now, if there is anyone here who thinks these two should not be joined for any reason, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Look," Dean whispered to Seth. He followed the man's eyes and saw shimmery reflections standing near the tent. They resembled Roman, Randy, Daniel, Sting, Triple H, and Stephanie; at one time Seth hadn't believed in ghosts, but now he knew they weren't hallucinations.

They said their vows to each other, grinning the whole time. Then, after slipping their rings on each other's fingers, Seth and Dean held hands as Mike said, smiling himself,

"I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now...well, you know." The crowd chuckled, causing Seth and Dean to beam. Looking at each other, savoring the moment, they leaned in for what would be the first of many kisses between them as a married couple.

Chapter Text

"Excited?" Seth asked Dean in the car. He nodded.

"Can't wait to see what Finn came up with." Seth smiled; he had forgotten Dean only knew half of the story.

They had been married for two months. It was a pleasant autumn day in Vegas, and today their pet project was finished. Finally.

The car pulled up to the infamous warehouse, dust hitting the wheels. Stopping the car, Seth looked up at the building and took a deep, shaky breath.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. Seth glanced at him.

"I can't believe I almost killed you in here. Thank God my plan succeeded and every shot missed." Dean nodded, sadness filling him as well.

"I miss Roman." Reaching over, Seth took his hand and squeezed it.

"Me too, buddy. Me too." They sat there for a few minutes, not saying much. Then, Dean finally looked back at the warehouse.

"Shall we?" Seth nodded, and they got out of the car. The doors of the warehouse were open (it was a beautiful day outside), and they could hear someone humming. Stepping inside, Seth and Dean gasped.

Murals of their dead compatriots covered the walls. Triple H and Stephanie were next to each other (as expected), and Sting took up another wall with Daniel Bryan. A man Dean didn't recognize was finishing Randy's portrait, his back to them. Hearing their footsteps, he turned around.

"You must be Seth," he said, wiping his hands off on a rag. Smiling, Dean shook his head.

"Dean, actually." Grin a mile wide, the man walked forward to shake his hand.

"Finn's told me a lot about you. Jeff Hardy." They chatted amicably, Seth not hearing any of it. He was standing off in the corner, staring up at Roman's portrait. He missed that man so much, the man he had never truly stopped loving. It felt so weird to not tell Dean, but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway.

"Hey, guys!" Finn's chipper voice hit their ears. Stepping out of the back room, can of spray paint in his hands, he asked, "What do you think?"

"The portraits are amazing!" Seth replied. Dean, however, was looking at something else.

"Seth." Following his eyes, Seth looked down and gasped.

The floor was covered in beautiful abstract art, all done in neon spray paint. Looking up at Finn, Seth chuckled,

"Your work, I assume?"

"And Jeff's," Finn replied, motioning to the man in question. "He does a lot of art in North Carolina, and I couldn't do all of this by myself." He smiled. "Hey, I made sandwiches. You guys want one?" Nodding, Seth and Dean followed Finn and Jeff to the kitchen. Eating their makeshift lunches, the four men chatted, the memories of the people in the murals never leaving them.