Fear is Real {WWE FanFiction}

Chapter 1

Roman yawned, stretching as he stepped out of the car. It was late, later than usual; Dean had passed out after... Roman didn't even know how many shots. He hadn't been able to carry Dean out of the bar because it was so crowded. Thankfully it didn't take long for Dean to wake up, and they were able to leave.

Suppressing another yawn Roman opened the passenger door. Dean nearly fell out the car. Amid a flurry of mumbled curses, the shorter man was able to stand up and look around.

"Where are we?" he asked, his words still a bit slurred.

"The hotel," Roman said. "Come on, let's get inside. We both need the sleep."

Dean mumbled something that sounded like "Good idea" and stumbled along after the Samoan man.

Their room was simple and nondescript. Roman knew that by the time they rolled out of town in a few days both he and Dean would forget the pattern of the comforter, the color of the carpet, the layout of the furniture. Yawning yet again, he gave Dean a push in the direction of the beds. The shorter man collapsed upon the nearest one, shoes on and everything. He was snoring seconds later.

Roman shook his head. He made his way to the other bed and sat down heavily. A contented sigh passed his lips. His legs hurt more than usual tonight. Randy Orton had given him yet another beating at the house show tonight, and he hoped that this angle wouldn't last long. The alcohol coursing through his system probably wasn't helping much, either.

Unlacing his shoes and kicking them off, he laid back on the bed.

-*-*-*-

He didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up to the sound of something clattering to the floor and Dean cussing. Sunlight peeked in through the curtains. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and peered blearily at the digital clock. 9:47am.

They would be late to the arena, but he had a feeling that nobody would mind. Cesaro was late almost everyday and nobody gave a crap.

He heard the shower shut off. A few moments later, Dean emerged amid a cloud of steam, hair wrapped in a towel and another around his waist. His eyes were puffy.

"Why didn't you cut me off last night?" he asked.

"Because," Roman said with a laugh, "you threatened to cut off my hair."

Dean laughed, too. "Sorry 'bout that. You ready for tonight?"

"Yeah," Roman replied, halfway to the bathroom. "Be out in a min."

"M'kay," Dean said.

Roman closed the door, turned the shower on, stripped, and stepped under the stream of hot water. It felt good. The heat relaxed muscles he hadn't realized were tense.

Odd, he thought. I just woke up. Shouldn't be this tense.

He hung his head, eyes closed, letting the water drum on his back. An image appeared on the backs of his eyelids.

Black car. Two men, one on the ground facdown. Blood. So much blood.

Roman's eyes flew open. It had been a flash of color, like a lightning strike illuminating midnight. But it unsettled him. He was sure it had been a dream he'd had before; that car was familiar. And he thought he recognized the outline of the standing man.

A knock on the door made him jump.

"Hey man, you want coffee or a bagel or somethin'?" Dean's voice was muffled by the door and the sound of the water.

"Nah, thanks," Roman called, trying to keep his voice steady.

Once he was sure Dean was gone, he got out of the shower and, quickly towel drying, grabbed his phone.

One new message: from Seth.

We should talk.