Here we are then everyone. Last chapter coming up and as always, thank you so much for coming with me on this ride and for leaving me reviews and love! Coming up next Thursday we have a new Dean/Lauren story. But for now, let's wrap things up here.
xXBalorBabeXx, Christopher Hurley isn't such a bad guy. A clueless husband, yes, but he's not the worst person in the world, so it made sense to me that he would want some good to come of everything. Thank you for always being such a faithful follower and reviewer!
Rebel8954, Well, there's always the possibility of more stories from this team. I mean, there's a lot of different ideas in my head, so I have a feeling that PIs Ambrose and Reigns and DPI (Dog PI) Seth will ride again! But until then, thank you so much for your reviews and enthusiasm for this crazy story!
Wolfgirl2013, Yep, Lauren and Dean next. But first I want to say a big thanks for all of your reviews for this story!
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Yep, after this chapter, these guys are all done for a little while. I'm glad you liked it so much though and a huge thank you for all of your reviews and encouragement too!
Cheryl24, Well, there are some advantages to having Sunny downstairs and besides, who would look after poor Carl? (Lol!) But anyway, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It really means a lot.
Mandy, Oh no. Sorry about the bad luck on the job front. I can imagine how hard that must be, but I know you'll get to where you need to be eventually. My mum is okay thank you. She's finished treatment and now we just have to wait for the results. As ever my friend, thank you so much for always being there every chapter, reading and reviewing. See you next time!
Minnie1015, Yep, Pumpkin is safely back where he belongs, cowering under a little old lady's sofa! I do have a few ideas for a possible sequel (something involving Roman's old football team, or something around a TV show) but I need to let them germinate a bit more I think! In the meantime though, thanks millions and millions for your reviews. And sorry (not sorry) for all of the cliffhangers and suspense!
Wrestlingfanforever, Thank you and thank you for reviewing. Up next we're back for more fun times with Lauren and Dean!
Skovko, Yep, Dean may be sad to see Brock...uh, Pumpkin go, but never say no to cold hard cash! As always, thank you so much for being there and reviewing every step of the way. And thanks for being angry Pomeranian Seth's biggest cheerleader!
ViolentHugger03, Aww, thank you and thank you for your lovely reviews too. I would love to write a sequel. I've got some other Dean stories to work on first, but the PI thing definitely has more room to run!
XwwecoyoteX, I think real life Brock should just make it easier for all of us and rename himself Pumpkin! Sorry Carl wasn't there for the save, but I like to think he was watching the office for intruders while everyone else was out! Thank you so much for reviewing this chapter. It really means a lot to know that all the hard work and worry of writing is worth it!
Lunatic789, Well, wait no more because here it is. The last chapter (and also, a huge thank you for reviewing and following this story!)
Martha, Glad you've enjoyed the story, but I guess all good things must come to an end! Thank you for all your support and your reviews and I hope to see you at the next story!
One last time...
TWENTY SIX
"Dude," Dean gapes, his jaw dropping in such astonishment that the Doublemint he's chewing on nearly falls out.
He is stood in the doorway to the Reigns' new and improved basement, which even Roman has to admit looks pretty damn impressive. As it should do after three weekends of painting, an eviction notice to the colony of Parsons spiders and approximately three and a half gallons of paint, in Montpelier Green to match his wife's new scatter cushions and to compliment her broader color scheme — which is in Cornflower White — and all of which seems to have impressed their new lodger.
Oh and his dog of course.
Dean blinks again,
"Fudge. This is like, even better than our last place."
He's back to substituting the word fuck out again, since Roman's daughter had come rushing out to greet them and is out on the driveway playing with Seth. Not that she can probably hear them from out there, but Roman appreciates him trying nonetheless. Just like he appreciates the wide eyed expression and the halfway longing look that Dean is throwing towards the bed. The actual bed, with a headboard and everything, instead of an ancient paper strewn couch. Roman grins back at him,
"You wanna try it out babe?"
"Fudge yeah."
Dean promptly drops the lone cardboard box he's been carrying, which seems to contain his entire worldly goods, including a selection of Pomeranian sized clothing, an action figure of a wrestler and a couple of dog eared books. Along with the trusty handgun cigarette lighter tucked in beneath them, which in hindsight had ended up being a pretty useful thing to have, since even Hackett hadn't been able to tell the difference between it and the real thing from a distance back in the church.
Crossing the room Dean pokes at the mattress and then slowly lowers himself down onto the sheets — like he's worried it won't be as good as he's hoping — before sinking right back with a husky groan of elation and a goofy ass smile,
"Now this is what I'm talkin' about. Dude these sheets. I mean, are these Egyptian cotton? Because my sheets always came from like, Tennessee. An' whoa, is this mattress one of those astronaut foam deals?"
Roman smiles at him,
"So does that mean you like it down here babe?"
"Like it?" Dean blinks at him as if he's gone crazy, or inhaled too much paint fume, which incidentally he probably has, "Uce come on, I was livin' in an office in a crappy old brownstone. So yeah I like it. I mean, look. I got like an actual proper freakin' bathroom, an' a kitchen an' a closet to put all of my crap."
By which he means his jacket, the battered books and his lighter, which is pretty damn heartbreaking all things considered, but Roman likes to think it's a start if nothing else.
"Just can't believe you freakin' want me," Dean shrugs back, "Like, livin' downstairs from your wife an' your kid, with my angry little dog an' like, all of my craziness."
He waves his hands in the air on the last word, as if craziness is something he's been told he has a few times before and in return Roman's mind drifts back to when he'd first been given the assignment and the way that Rachel from the agency had described him.
A bit of a weird one.
"Hey," the big man frowns, trying to push that recollection back down again. Although he thinks about buying Rachel a fruit basket as well, to thank her for deciding that maybe he was the best fit for a scruffy private eye who couldn't keep a damn temp, "Some of us happen to like that craziness."
Dean looks down and then scratches his neck,
"S' just that nobody ever has. People just think m' kinda a pain in the ass mostly. Fudge. I mean a pain in the butt," he corrects, still working on the basis that his tiny new housemate has supersonic hearing.
Roman tousles the off-blonde hair,
"Not me babe and besides, you pay the bills now remember? So it kinda makes sense for me to keep you around and make sure that crazy dead women ain't damn well grabbing you at gunpoint, or getting their partners to beat you up in a park. Or to make sure that your ass ain't rescuing any more animals."
"Hey," Dean protests, "We pay the bills together now, an' besides, you love Carl and Seth."
"Seth maybe," Roman snorts back wryly, grinning as he picks up the sparsely filled box and then starts to arrange Dean's books on the dresser which his wife has set up at the foot of the bed. Beside it, in the open expanse of the basement, is a table and chairs tucked into a nook near the kitchenette, a couch — a proper one with cushions and everything — and their old television bolted onto the wall, with more cupboard space leading through to the shower room.
Not that Dean needs extra cupboard space.
Yet.
"But that damn bird — ,"
"He just gets over excited," Dean offers protectively, "An' besides, he's better now. He barely even dive bombed the top of your head this week, an' he hasn't tried to peck your eyes out in days. I think maybe he didn't like Brock bein' there or somethin'. Got him all pissed. Uh, crap, I mean mad."
Because in spite of the check the grateful Hurleys had sent them, Dean had decided to stay put in the brownstone. Or at least on the private eye office side of things, since he'd figured that Carl would probably need some looking after until he was old enough to find himself a wife and besides which, Sunny is the best security guard there is, so why would they have turned all that down for some swanky building with a doorman and air conditioning and real bathrooms?
Nah.
Roman chuckles.
"Whatever you say babe. Whatever you say."
In the corner of the basement over Dean's brand new kitchen is a staircase that leads up to the rest of the Reigns house, which opens suddenly in a rush of warm cooking smells to reveal Roman's wife in oven mitts holding a tray.
She's still in her nurse's uniform from her night shift, but since she tends to come back feeling buzzed she has clearly decided to pour the rest of her energy into baking their new lodger a patented welcome treat, since frankly she's about as excited as her husband to have Ambrose down there paying them rent, on an agreed on lower rate in exchange for babysitting and looking after the house if the three of them ever go away. Not that Roman has any plans on that though, since going away means having to stay with his mother in law and besides, he's now the co-owner in a business, so he can't go away and he's sticking to that.
His wife beams eagerly,
"So, what do you think Dean? Do you like the colors? I picked them myself. Roman over here," she rolls her eyes as she gets up to them, still juggling the steaming tray as she prods her husband in the ribs, "Was going to go with a red and grey color scheme. But I thought it might be nicer to go with something bright and neutral of course, so it would match with your belongings. Oh,"
Her eyes fall on the lone cardboard box, which briefly stops her excitable chatter.
Not that Dean notices.
"Are those snickerdoodles?" he asks, his blue eyes widening in what looks like starvation as he suddenly sits up from his dead slump on the bed, which takes a bit of struggling because of the mattress which — as he had guessed — is one hundred percent pure memory foam.
Roman's wife nods and then holds the baking tray out,
"They certainly are. But be careful, they're hot. I wanted to make sure we welcomed you properly to your brand new home."
"You baked them for me?" Dean blinks in response, staring open mouthed at the cinnamon goodness.
Roman's wife smiles,
"Of course, with extra chocolate chips. Want one?"
She offers the loaded tray upwards and Dean immediately pounces like a cat, grabbing the nearest snickerdoodle he can get at before promptly shoving half of the thing in his mouth, while at the same time groping around for a second one, like if he doesn't keep eating they might get taken away.
"Oh holy fudge," he moans, spraying crumbs everywhere, "That is like, ho man, that's really good. You should like, open a bakery or somethin'."
"Oh well, thank you Dean," Roman's wife beams, blushing a little with all the praise of her cooking, "But I mean, they're only snickerdoodles."
"Snickerdoodles," a small voice yells, as right on cue their sweet treat fiend of a daughter bursts into the basement with Seth hot on her heels and then bustles across to bounce on her shoe tips as Seth jumps up and makes himself comfy on the bed. Dean breaks off some doodle without any chip in it and passes it across to him, "Can I have one mama, please?"
"Of course you can baby," Roman's wife smiles fondly, sweeping her hand through her daughter's windswept hair and then lowering the tray so the youngster can pick one. Although the first one she chooses she passes across to her old man.
"Here papa, you have one too."
"Thank you baby girl."
"And now mama," she hands another doodle across and then saves the biggest for last, "And now my turn. There, now we all have one."
She takes a big bite and then tiptoes across to the bed where Seth and Dean are before looking up shyly.
"Do you, uh wanna sit up here?" Dean blinks, slapping a space on the mattress beside him when she nods back mutely, "The more the merrier kid. Careful now, don't drop your snickerdoodle. Want me to hold it for ya? Okay, there you go."
Roman watches the performance with a chuckle as Ambrose fusses around the little girl, clearly worried about her toppling over backwards or hurting herself as she clumsily clambers up. His best friend, his wife and his kid altogether, under the same damn roof where he can keep them all close and with Seth to back him up on security.
It might not be pro football, but he's a lucky, lucky man.
"To new starts and new friends," he grins, lifting his doodle and then watching as his wife and his brother do the same, although Dean might be doing it to try and stop Seth from eating it.
Roman's wife smiles at both of them.
"Welcome home Dean."
Well, I couldn't leave the poor man sleeping in his office now could I?!
So, there you have it. I had lots of fun writing these two, so never say never to another one (I certainly have ideas). But first I'm long overdue on some of my other series (the Shield police stories, Lauren and Dean, Little Brother) so you might have to wait a little while for their next ride.
Thanks all.