Ta da! Final chapter. Once again thank you to everyone who has read and especially to those who have reviewed, relentlessly, through hell and high water. You people make my day! (Notes on upcoming stories/sequels etc. down at the bottom)

xXBalorBabeXx, Oh don't worry, Elliott is definitely going to jail and I like to think that Andy really has changed (and not just in sexual orientation either!) As ever, thank you sooo much for reviewing and sticking with this couple through all the bad times (which, let's face it, is every story!)

Mandy, Thank you. I'm not much of a one for eternal patience, but I'm trying my best with my mum! Glad you liked that last chapter. I felt it was time for Lauren to kick some ass. Hope you like this final (sweeter) chapter and thank you so very, very, very, very, very much, for always being there to support my work and for making me feel like it means something to someone other than just me!

Debwood-1999, Haha, aww, well, I'm sorry it wasn't Bray Wyatt...this time. Because you might want to make sure to look out for the sequel to this story, which I think might make you a whole lot happier (P.S. you were right about the timelines!) Also, thank you so much for reviewing. I love knowing what everyone is thinking as we go!

Minnie1015, Yay! That's exactly what I was hoping for. I really wanted Lauren to grow in this one (and the next one…) so I'm glad that stood out to you as well. Initially this story had a totally different, not as grow-y climax, so I rewrote it because our girl needed to kick a little ass! Although, naturally of course Dean is still there to bail her out of it! Plus as ever, thank you for your reviews (and not to mention your friendship in general. Thanks pal).

Wolfgirl2013, Ooh, I'm so glad you asked! Yes there is another sequel coming up. It's called Find You, but I've got a couple of other things to post first, so scroll down to the bottom to read more about them and thank you soooooo very much for all your reviews! They make this story seem like it might be worth reading!

Phoenix lord of rebirth, Awww, thank you so much! Firstly for the compliment about my writing and secondly for sticking with this loopy little couple of mine. I do have other things on the boil (scroll down for more deets) but in short; I've got a Roman/Dean friendship oneshot; an early Mox story; another Little Brother story (if I can get it finished in time) and then another Dean and Lauren. Hope to see you there for some of them and thank you endlessly for your reviews. I loved seeing your perspective to Dean and Lauren as someone who hasn't been 'with them' from the start! Meant a lot!

Skovko, Yes, I think Kelly learnt a valuable lesson. But I don't think she's quite the girl she was in high school now either. I think Brent and Roger changed her. Of course, Elliott's not to know that. Or really much of anything since he's concussed and a total lunatic anyway! Well, here we are, the final chapter on this one, so, as ever my old friend, THANK YOOOOOUUUUUU!

MamaChele81, I can't believe you read every Dean and Lauren story in pretty much one day! I'm so glad you took the plunge with them though and hey, I'm always happy to add more readers! Also, thank you so so so so much for all the reviews. I keep looking at my phone wondering when the next one was coming and where you had got up to! Hope to see you for the next one as well.

Right, one more time on this one then...

Made For Lovin' You

The land was set well back from the road in the tree line, so that the sunshine trying to stream in through the leafy canopy produced a mottled effect on the house, which, coupled with the winds blowing in off the lakeside, bathed the place with a sort of freshness that I liked. Not to mention a sense of being hidden within the landscape that I knew would strike a cord with my back-to-nature loving man.

Boomer too, because I knew he would have loved it.

Dean cleared his throat and I looked up.

Whoops.

Beyond me our blonde and very business like realtor had stepped with a wave of her hand from the hall, clearly assuming we were going to follow.

My husband snorted and then prodded me along, through the open and spacious entrance into –

"Oh wow."

The most incredible room.

Double height and vaulted with beams criss crossed above us in beautiful pale hues of locally sourced wood, but set beside great big picture-sized windows that looked out over the sloped lawn and then on through the trees and finally to the lakeside which formed the final perimeter of what could potentially be our new home. In the middle there was a chimney breast that reached up to the ceiling and in a flash I could envision how the winters could be. With the three of us curled up in front of the embers, while bitter winds howled and built snow up on the outside.

Hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate would have to be involved somewhere.

"So, what do you think?"

I squeaked in response, which made Dean hack out a snicker snort behind me, but both of which our realtor bypassed with a smile and smelling a sale like a prize winning bloodhound.

"Would you like to see the kitchen?"

I nodded,

"Ooh yes please."

The kitchen.

Oh god. The freaking kitchen. Which held a table and ten chairs for more formal meals and a breakfast bar in the island beyond it, with country cream cupboards and sleek stone countertops which had pretty much been polished to within an inch of their lives, to the point that they looked like they had never been used before.

I could see myself there.

I could see all of us there. Dean at the bar in the morning in his boxers, with his hair mussed up while I cooked pancakes and toast and with the hound laid patiently at my feet, ever watchful, in the hopes that some food would tumble down from the stove.

I turned towards Dean,

"This is my kitchen and I love it."

"Oh, I knew you would," our realtor replied, with a beam of veneers and a hand clap of happiness, like she could practically see her commission for the sale and possibly the purse or the shoes she planned to buy with it, since she looked the type of person to have a closet filled with things.

In fact in many ways she reminded me of someone.

It was obvious who –

Kelly.

My kickass best pal who had recovered so well from having been kidnapped, that she had been able to give a statement to the police there and then, when the whole entire precinct of my quaint little hometown had turned up to see what all the fuss was about.

Elliott had been airlifted to the hospital thereafter, with a suspected back fracture which meant a brace for nine months and would presumably be something for him to talk about in prison. Which was where he was going for a very long time.

Not that a long time had been long enough for Kelly, who had strode forward to kick the gurney as it was being winched up and who had then bellowed over the roar of the rotor blades, so that everyone could hear her.

"That's for my unborn child."

In response to the memory I chuckled a little.

Kelly was such a badass.

Not that our realtor knew that, since my snort merely made her knit her eyebrows in closer, before hurriedly pasting her smile back on as she pointed us back out into the entrance with her smart leather folder of specifications and facts, which she probably never looked at but made her feel important, or like maybe she was some type of PA to a movie star, rather than a realtor pushing houses perched on lake banks in a tiny little town in the back of beyond.

"How about I show you two lovebirds the bedroom?"

"'Bout time freakin' time," Dean snorted,

I coughed,

"Uh, he means yes please."

Her black heels spun and clipped briskly away from us, but at such a burst of speed I had to trot to keep up, which my husband smiled at as he sauntered behind us, like a bonafide rock star in his plain black top and the black cap turned backwards that made his hair sprout out beneath it and the both of which made him look impossibly hot. I beamed to myself – ha, that was my husband – then tailed our realtor up the stairs from the hall, which led into a real life galleried landing which took us to the bedroom.

Holy heck what a place.

Not only in terms of the space on offer, but also thanks to the view of the lake, which bounced back the sun so that the water seemed to sparkle in a way that I could happily have looked at for hours, since the calm little eddies were virtually mesmeric.

Blonde realtor lady clutched her clipboard,

"It leads out onto your terrace."

"Oooh," I blinked, "Really?"

"Go take a peak," she offered, gesturing to doors which opened out from beside the bed. Keen to see more, I stepped hastily through them and out into a beautifully hot patch of sun, that had snuck in between a break in the overhead canopy to bathe the little patio in a tropical sub heat, which had convinced the present owners to install a freaking hot tub and not to mention a small working bar. Dean slid behind it once and then ran the palm of his hand across the woodwork, like maybe he had found his purpose in life. Our realtor grinned. Did she have other expressions?

"Perfectly positioned for use in the summer as you can tell. Positioned for evening sunlight and with the lake set behind it."

Dean picked up a bottle,

"I'll make you a deal. How 'bout the owner throws his stock in with the sale here an' really makes it worth my while?"

"Oh, I mean, I suppose – ,"

"Hold up," Dean twisted the cap from a whisky bottle and then poured out a taster as our poor realtor looked on, but with a blink that implied that him drinking her client's liquor wasn't exactly a situation she'd encountered before.

Not that Dean cared. He didn't care about anyone. You know, unless anyone was me or Roman that was.

Naturally of course, he had told our laid up powerhouse the whole kidnap saga when he had phoned later that night. Once the police had finally taken every statement and released us back to the comfort of my old house, whereupon I had practically planted nose first into the bedclothes and then slipped into a heavy but less than settled type of sleep. Roman had evidently known something had happened from the fact that neither one of us had been on the show and so Dean had briskly filled him in on the specifics as my super weary consciousness had faded in and then out.

Even so heated words had still filtered through to me.

Bastard.

Cliff.

Wanna squeeze his stupid throat.

Dean had come to bed pretty pumped when he had finished, but had nevertheless wrapped me up in his arms and swept his hands through my hair in a sweet little motion, which I had drifted right off to and then slept and slept.

In total, it had been a whole month since the drama and I still felt a little blindsided by it all, but on the plus side work had been completely supportive, even Vince and surprisingly – and worryingly – JBL.

Back in the present, Dean smacked his lips happily and then blew out a chuckle,

"Whoa that is good hooch. Now, lemme see what else this guy has here."

"Mister Ambrose please – ," our realtor coughed and okay, so possibly I should have tried to stop him for her before he sampled his way through every bottle in the house, but instead I followed the terrace round the corner and then held back a squeal as my wish list played out. Because as well as the fireplace and the lake out beyond me, I also had my final requirement as well. The patio was a one hundred and ten percent wraparound.

I did a little dance and then squeaked.

"Hell yes."

Because the house was perched on the slope of the hillside, it meant the second floor butted up beside the lawn, so that the terrace – my terrace – looked through several upstairs windows. Including the super luxurious master bath, with a sunken tub and a his and hers shower that probably could have fitted most of the locker room in as well. Or possibly one and a half Mark Henrys.

Not that I wanted to shower with him.

Eek.

More of the same beautiful lakeside views filled my periphery, with the hills and the town on the far bank beyond, which instantly made me think of my mother and her own little house and how not having her there hurt.

I would have done anything to have an hour with her, to talk about Dean and to bitch about my dad, who had so far had said nothing about my being kidnapped.

Seriously.

Nothing. Not even a word. I mean, not that I had thought there would be a whole lot from him. You know, given that his wife was satan herself. But at the same I had hoped for a flicker of something. You know? Like a brow knit or maybe even a kind word.

For a second I had even thought I might get it when I had practically walked into my father backstage and then stood as he had psyched himself up to talk to me. Or, at least, it had seemed like he was. Before Stephanie had swept in and wrinkled her nose at me. Like she'd been smelling something bad,

"Don't you have someplace to be? Run along Lauren. Don't keep your husband waiting. Or your ex, or your stalker or whoever it is."

Ugh.

Back in the real world I startled a little as hands fell in heavy and warm on my hips and then slid to my stomach as they pulled me in backwards and towards the chiselled beauty of a set of washboard abs, which were followed by hot lips pressed loose to my neckline and a murmured little kiss.

"Fuck. I like havin' terrace view of the tub. Means I can sit an' freakin' watch while you bubble."

"Like some pervert you mean?" I grinned back in response.

Dean shrugged,

"I was thinkin' like a horny window cleaner."

"Oh," I nodded back wisely, "Of course. The classic trope. Does he come round when my big strong wrestler husband is away at the house shows and it's only me here?"

I tilted my head back so it knocked into his shoulder, but which let me have a flipped up view of his face and his pulled in brows and the smile beneath them, which looked a cross between curious and outraged.

"He better fuckin' not."

I tiptoed up backwards then reached for his lips in a slightly awkward but super sweet side on kiss. Honestly, I kind of liked that he could see me in the bathroom. I mean, it had certainly had potential to be really hot and on the plus side, when I fell out of the tub and cracked my skull wide trying to be sexy as I towelled myself down, then he would probably easily be able to see it and call an ambulance for me, so that worked as well.

Dean blew a breath out,

"Okay then Princess, so like, I mean what exactly are we thinkin' here?"

"Bath sex is hot?"

Dean lifted a brow up,

"Uh, okay, I freakin' meant about the house. But m' gonna be honest, I like where your head is an' I think we should come back to that."

I blushed in response and my husband chuckled and then kissed my temple, because thankfully he liked when my brain wandered off. He found it cute, or lovable, or something, which admittedly I had never really understood, but was thankful for at least. Andy had hated my rambles and had rolled his eyes or butted right in and cut me off, or tapped at his watch or a million and one other things that Dean had apparently never even thought about.

Clearing his throat, he tried the question another way. Slower this time, so I understood,

"Do you like the house?"

"I think I can see us having babies here," I answered, "And coming home off the road and – ,"

"Havin' tub sex?"

I shrugged,

"Maybe only on birthdays and holidays. You know, as kind of a special sex treat."

"How 'bout it bein' so close to the cliff edge?" Dean rumbled back, sounding hesitant this time. I blinked and then let my eyes taper up the hills beyond us, to the trees that just about covered Makeout Point. Or rather, the place where Elliott had nearly killed me. Accidentally of course, but, you know.

Still.

Sucking a breath in, I shook my head resolutely, which rubbed my ponytail over his pecs and maybe the back of my head on his nipples.

"Nope, I kind of like it and besides, when you think about it, Makeout Point kind of saved me."

Dean blinked,

"What? How the fuck d' ya figure that?"

"Because it stopped me from being driven off somewhere further, or to a tropical island or another Makeout Point. Someplace where you might never have found me."

My husband mumbled back,

"Never losin' my girl. Woulda found you no matter where the fuck that asshole dragged you."

I hummed in response and then palmed his cheek,

"I know. But I still like the being this close to the mountains and the lake and the town and, oh, Kelly and my mom."

"So does that mean you want me to put in an offer?"

I blinked momentarily and then turned in his arms so that his hands slid over my stomach and hip bones and then crinkled my top loosely as we came face to face, which was a simple little motion that still flooded me with butterflies and a buzzy sensation that took over my whole brain. Frankly I couldn't imagine it not being there. Because his eyes and his lips and dimples were my world and had been since the moment I had seen him in the rental place, standing in his loose fitting jeans at the desk.

I blinked,

"Um, do you want to put in an offer?

Because it seemed pretty crucial that we both felt at home and especially since he was making the move out there for me.

He shrugged,

"I mean, it is pretty sweet, but I'll have to buy a mower for all the freakin' grass we got here."

"I thought men loved mowers."

Dean winked at me,

"True."

Behind us the breeze blew in a little harder, like maybe it wanted in on our loved up couple act and it made creep up to claim his lips sweetly and then lean forward to rest my head on his chest.

Beyond us, birds wheeled in the sky above the terrace and the tall thin trees that could soon have been ours and in which case the two of could kiss out there forever.

Next to our bedroom, in our backyard.

I balled my fists in Dean's shirt in excitement in a move that may, or may not have pinched his skin and in response he snorted, before patting my butt cheek and then turning in the direction of the well stocked little bar and probably – and perhaps more importantly – our realtor,

"Come on then. Suppose we should talk prices an' that crap."

My heart flipped over, but for a second I remained there looking out over the luscious well trimmed lawn, which tapered sharply off towards the crystalline waters and the mooring for the boat that we would probably never own. Even though I figured that Dean would buy a jet ski. Because it totally seemed like a him thing to own.

But beyond that I could see our two kids in the summertime – two or three, I hadn't decided on that yet – running around screaming while he chased them with the hose end and while Boomer barked excitedly and tried to protect his tiny friends. I meanwhile would be stood in the doorway, trying to stay neutral until my husband scooped me up and pulled me into the fun they having and –

Okay fine, so I had seen one too many films. But still, I wanted it and for the first time I could see it. Because of Dean, who was perfect and –

"Hey, are you fuckin' comin' or what?"

"Coming," I grinned. Because like I said.

Perfect.

In fact everything was.

Life was good.

I was home.

Well, there we have it folks. Another Dean and Lauren all done and dusted and leaving the doors wide open for another sequel...what with their brand new house and all and *shrugs super casually* you know, what's been going on with Seth in the last couple of stories. Anyway, the next Dean and Lauren is called 'Find You' and it's going to be up once I've got a few other things posted first, so please keep an eye out.

As for what's next? Well, next week I have a long oneshot about Dean and Roman in a sort of apocalyptic future (hopefully if/when you read it, that description is going to make more sense) and the week after that I'm delving back into early Mox territory again, but this time with a bit of a romantic bent. More details on that one with the oneshot though.

Anyway, thank you again to everyone who read and reviewed. Means the world. Hope I'll see you all at the next one!