Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Chapter 58: Fighting With Fire

Perhaps predictably when we returned from the market with both of my mom's earrings newly and happily in tow, my soon to be in-law had been notably missing and so therefore – I assumed – had trotted back out for more booze. I looked towards Dean a little tentatively in response to it,

"Do you want to go out looking again? Because it's fine if you do. I can stay here maybe, or get into the footwell whenever you go into a bar?"

I wasn't even making false platitudes either since it was absolutely my role to help however I could, besides which he had just shelled his hard earned cash out for me in order that I could bring my own mother back close and so therefore the least I could do was return the favor. Even if it meant being hunkered and feeling terrified in the shadowy bowels of our old rental car, trying to dodge the inhabitants of the city who preferred to be out under the cover of dark.

Eep.

Dean however blew a heavy sounding breath out and then shook his head, looking both weary and hugely pissed, which I figured was probably from a lifetime of such antics and which his following huffed out statement then proved right,

"You know what? Not this time. Done this fuckin' dance plenty an' I'm all outta patience."

He ran his hand through his hair and then swiped it over his face pretty roughly as he rubbed at his features like he was trying to smudge them off. I tiptoed up and trapped it between my fingers,

"How can I make this better?"

"Don't think you can, I mean you just – like – bein' here makes it fuckin' better but you can't change the way she is y' know? My mom is just my mom."

I looked up sadly,

"So then what's the plan handsome?"

Having learned from the previous evening we had taken the opportunity to have dinner out, besides which the both of us were still loaded up on samples and had a whole bag of goodies I had bought throughout as well. Dean sighed again but then pulled me towards him and grumbled into the long brown tangle of my hair, obviously feeling emotionally battered in a way that I hated,

"Let's just fuckin' go to bed."

"Okay."

I turned to lead him into the bedroom like a mother shepherding her over-tired child but stopped as he pulled on my hand just a little and then grinned at me wearily,

"Maybe we'll watch that film."

"What film?"

"The porn one you said about earlier with the girls on the bar top."

I bit back a smile,

"It's not a porn film, it's a sweet romantic comedy."

He held up his hands,

"As long as there's strippin' involved then I'm in."

Rolling my eyes I tried my best to look reproachful but as he walked past and goosed me the censure tailed off as instead I let out a squeak of amusement then followed him in to get ready for bed.

"Dean – ,"

Naturally being a man it took him less than three minutes to shuck from his clothes and re-ruffle his hair which meant that by the time I had changed and headed into the tiny bathroom to take off my make-up he already had Netflix up and had tracked down the movie and about three replacement options that were very much of the band wagon full-on porno style and which I then had to convince him was likely not a better option before he offered up a grin and thankfully chose the proper film.