Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Old Faces, New Faces

We ended up in what I would have termed a store cupboard had it clearly not said Janitor's Officeoutside. It was cramped in there and we were standing in proximity which meant I got the full force of Dean's cologne. I also got the full force of Dean's anger and – all things considered – I preferred the cologne.

"This is crazy – it's fuckin' crazy. Why didn't you tell me who the fuck he was, huh? What – you didn't think that shit was important? He works for the company? Come on Lauren. Fuck."

We had only been in there a matter of seconds and I was still trying to get over the whole you're here thing, which meant I was just a tiny bit sketchy on why he was ranting. I quickly cut him off.

"Um, I don't – I don't get why you're mad at me. Why are you angry? Wait, why are you here?"

He stopped and the fury was exchanged for incredulity,

"You seriously haven't worked that out?"

I blinked at him and then actually looked properly, running my eyes across him, head to toe. He was wearing black boots, half hidden beneath black cargo pants with a sexy – stop it – black sleeveless top. His hair was gelled back and his wrists were taped firmly. I gaped in amazement,

"Are you – are you a wrestler?"

His expression shot back a sarcastic well duh and I shook my head and stepped back into a shelf. It was stacked with various cleaning products and the nozzle of the toilet bleach dug into my head. I barely even noticed it, my mouth was wide open.

"B-but, why didn't you tell me?"

"Are you kiddin' me? Lauren, I fuckin' did. I told you I was in Sports Entertainment, remember?"

"I thought that meant you owned a bar, or – I don't know – handed out popcorn or whatever. I didn't think that meant you were actually a wrestler. If I'd known that, I'd have just told you my father worked here."

Dean's expression suddenly darkened and as his hands grabbed my shoulders my heart launched for my throat.

"Oh, you're tellin' me more than that. Who is he Lauren?"

"W-why do you need to know?"

"Because I fuckin' brought you in here," he hissed at me and his breath felt warm against my cheek, "Because I work here Lauren and I know the people that work here, so if you want to know what your old man's like and how receptive he'll be to this little reunion, then you're lookin' at the guy who's holdin' the answers. Now do you want to know or not?"

Okay, here goes nothing.

"It's Hunter."

Dean blinked at me,

"Hunter," he repeated, then suddenly his face fell, "Wait a second – Hunter's your father? Hunter Hearst Helmsley? Fuckin' company boss?"

I bit my lip and nodded,

"Uh huh."

Dean meanwhile seemed to be having a conniption and for almost a minute he couldn't seem to speak. Instead he expressed his obvious frustration by pacing back and forth across the so called office space – which amounted to all of about three steps – clenching his fists and muttering incoherently while occasionally kicking out at the desk. I let him do – he obviously needed to – but despite his rage, I didn't feel scared. It was Dean and even though he was livid, I couldn't help but just feel safe.