A/N: Apologies for starting yet another story when I have so many unfinished stories go here. :)

Chapter One

She kept an eye on the monitor as she applied another coat of lip gloss. Wincing at the sight of her husband being slammed into the steel steps, she tossed the tube onto the table and fluffed her hair. She had about five minutes to get into position for her pre-match talk with The Shield, which would occur just after her husband's match. It would take at least three minutes to get to the interview set, and another to go over what she had to ask. After giving her appearance a quick appraisal she left the dressing room. She realized too late that she'd forgotten to remove her rings and sighed, twisting them off her finger so she could hand them to one of the crew to hold onto while she was on-air.

Vince's demands were ridiculous. Anyone who searched her name online would know immediately that she was married to the man in the ring now. The company had even posted one or two photos from their wedding on the official website. Fans recognized her as his wife, but God forbid she wear her wedding rings at any event. She'd once thought of keeping them on a chain around her neck like her husband did, but even that was too prominent for the boss's tastes.

The three members of The Shield were already there. They chatted easily with the crew that was setting up the shot. Dean Ambrose's title belt gleamed in the bright lights, and she recalled that he would be defending it the next night at Smackdown. As she took the paper from the production assistant, she held out her rings.

"Hold onto these for me?" she requested, biting her tongue when the woman gawked at the diamond and shook her head. "Or not," she groaned, looking for someone else she could ask.

"Hey, Lizzie, you're late."

A shadow fell across her paper and she looked up to see Dean standing right in front of her. She furrowed her brow at the shortening of her name and glanced to the cameraman, who shook his head.

"Two minutes," he called to her.

"I'm not late," she informed Dean. Did he have to stand so close? Any closer and the oil or water or whatever he used on his hair would be dripping on her script. She would never understand why he and the other two doused their hair before going out. "And don't call me Lizzie."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How about Liz? Beth? El?"

"One minute, Elizabeth."

"You could call me by my actual name," she suggested, walking over to get in place when she heard her husband's theme playing in the arena. She felt the diamond digging into her palm as a microphone replaced the paper in her other hand. Looking around, she felt helpless as the three men moved into position on either side of her. Despite not really having a part in the interview, Dean stood close to her left side. She caught a whiff of stale cigarettes and cologne. Pushing her hand behind her back, she jumped in surprised when warm fingers slid over hers.

Dean kept his gaze on something beyond Roman as he plucked the rings from her palm. "Smile pretty, Elizabeth," he muttered in her ear as the bright light of the camera flashed on.

She was vaguely aware of his hand slipping into his pocket as she began to speak into the microphone. Ignoring the way he leaned in when she spoke, she directed her questions at Seth and Roman, who would be in the next match. She felt ridiculously tiny standing amongst them.

"Do you think that Dean's presence ringside distracts and confuses your opponents?" she asked, keeping her gaze on Seth and extending the microphone to him.

Dean covered her hand with his and pulled the microphone to his face. "Let me tell you something, sweetheart. If I distract or confuse them, that's their problem, alright? Unless I'm banned from ringside, I'm gonna stay right there. Because we're a team. Whether it's just one of us, two of us, or all three, we stick together. Believe that."

Seth nodded as Roman leaned close. Towering over her, his expression was cold and menacing as he growled the team's motto. Elizabeth didn't have to pretend that she was intimidated and made sure to cast a wary look to the camera just before the light switched off.

Dean smirked, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. "You're really cute when you look scared like that, Lizzie."

"Thanks, guys," she said to Roman and Seth. It was probably her tenth time interviewing them on-air, but she never knew what to expect with either of the three. "See you after the match."

"It's a date," Seth called over his shoulder.

She laughed as the three walked away, knowing they were going to make their way around for their entrance through the stands. Watching them, she raised an eyebrow when Dean turned to give her another smirk just before slipping out of the door. Catching the barest glimpse of him patting his pocket, she felt her jaw slacken. He still had her rings. And he wasn't going to give them back before the match.

Her absurdly expensive diamond ring, bouncing around in his pocket while he watched Seth and Roman. Her equally expensive wedding band, with the embedded diamonds and a bible verse engraved inside faced the same fate and she could only stare at the closed door. What would she do if he lost one of them? How would she ever explain it?

"Hey, babe."

She turned at the sound of his voice, smiling when she saw him. His kiss of greeting was quick, his large hands catching her shoulders before she could embrace him.

"Better not. I'm all sweaty. You done for the night?" he asked, offering another kiss.

"I've got one more interview after the next match." She satisfied herself with placing her hands on his chest. "How was your match?"

"It was okay. I've got to finish signing those pictures for the giveaway. You seen Melissa?"

She nodded, thinking of his assistant. Before she could answer, though, his lips were over hers again. It was different from the previous, token kisses. He massaged her shoulders, lips slanting, tongue seeking. She knew this kiss well. It was Lovemaking 101. Heat began to pool in the pit of her stomach and she grasped his biceps, leaning onto her tiptoes to return the kiss.

"What time is your flight?" he asked, one hand moving down to palm the side of her breast.

"I'm carpooling with a couple of the girls," she reminded him. "We're leaving as soon as the show's over."

"Dammit," he groaned. "You better hurry your tight ass to the dressing room as soon as your interview is over."

"Baby…" She could hear music. "We'll have to be quick."

"I won't see you 'til Wednesday morning. I need some to tide me over." He kissed her again, grasping her breast tightly before setting her away from him. "Hurry your ass up."

"Just my ass?" she returned with a grin.

He grinned as well, shaking a finger at her as he backed down the hall. "See you in a bit."

She waited until he turned then made a dash for Makeup, where she begged for a tube of lip gloss. On her way back she passed a monitor and paused to watch as Cody pinned Seth for the win. The bell rang just as Dean dove into the ring, fists swinging. Cringing at the crazed look on his face, she hurried back into position and waited.

The interview was brief, ending with Dean flipping a table before storming away. Grateful when the camera was off, Elizabeth handed the microphone to the tech and breathed a sigh. She rubbed the back of her neck as she thought of her rings and, grimacing, headed off after Dean.

He was just outside, lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he removed the tape from his wrists. When he saw her, his eyes widened, the tip of his cigarette glowing as he took a drag. "Slumming it, aren't you, Lizzie?"

The snide tone wasn't lost on her but she ignored it. "You still have something of mine."

"You mean these?" he asked, throwing the tape into the nearby trashcan. He shoved a hand into his pocket and produced her rings. "Take 'em. That diamond's heavy as fuck, by the way."

She slid them into place on her finger, giving the princess cut diamond a quick polish on the skirt of her dress. "Thank you."

"How much did that set him back?" Dean asked, grabbing her fingers and tilting her hand so he could look at the diamond.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"I'm curious."

"Why?" she inquired, trying to pull her hand free.

"Maybe I'm in the market for one."

"If you must know, he had it specially made. I don't remember the actual price." She didn't dare mention how horrified she'd been when she'd seen the bill on the desk at home. Or that she thought the ring gaudy and too over the top. She would have much preferred a simple solitaire set in a gold band. Finally she yanked her hand free and adjusted the rings.

"Give him my regards," Dean called after her as she hurried back inside.

When she reached the dressing room Melissa was there. Perched on the small couch, the petite blonde was immersed in something on her laptop. She barely glanced up when Elizabeth entered and closed the door.

"That you, babe?"

"Yeah," she called, glancing to the closed door to the bathroom. Stepping out of her heels, she wriggled her toes and moved to the table to begin packing away her makeup. Her phone vibrated as she plucked it from her purse, and she read the message with a sigh. "I'm hitting the road in ten minutes."

"What?" The door opened and he leaned out. "Why?"

"They're almost ready. I need to finish packing." She replied to the message, assuring that she would meet the girls in the parking lot.

"Melissa can do that. C'mere."

"She's not paid to clean up—"

"I don't mind," the blonde piped up. Her smile was for the man in the doorway alone. "It's only your makeup and shoes, right?"

"Right…" Elizabeth sighed when her husband reached for her hand. "Thanks, Melissa."

She was pulled into the bathroom, her back against the door before it fully closed. "John," she gasped when he began tugging at her skirt. "Melissa—"

"Won't give a shit." He dropped the towel from around his waist and palmed her. "Can you cum in ten minutes?"

"No," she almost shouted. He should have known that, right? After nearly ten years of marriage? True orgasms were a rarity for her, and even little ones took a long time to build up. "Baby, you know I can't."

"Fuck," he grunted. "I need something."

He was hard, poking against her thigh. Seeing the desperation in his blue eyes, she wet her lips and gave a small nod. "I've got it," she promised, sliding her hands down his chest. He sighed with relief and kissed her before letting her go. She knelt on the hard floor, opened her mouth, and performed her wifely duties.

He was the first person she saw when she arrived for the Smackdown taping the next afternoon. Leaning against the building, cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he waved as she approached. At first she didn't recognize him thanks to the stained cap pulled low over his eyes, but as she neared she saw his smirk and braced herself.

"How's it going, Lizzie?" he called. The cigarette twitched, a clump of ashes falling to the ground.

She refused to rise to the bait. "Alright, I suppose. And yourself?"

"It's all good." He nudged the cap back on his head. "I wanted to apologize for last night."

"What about last night?" She rested her purse on the top of her suitcase and waited.

"The stuff with your rings." He gestured to her hand, one eyebrow raising when he noticed her fingers were bare. "I took them with me just to fuck with you. It was stupid and wrong. And I'm sorry."

Surprised at his gentle tone, she stared at him for a long moment. She never would have thought him capable of an apology. Of course, what little she knew of him was from watching him in the ring and their interactions on-air. Until last night, they had never spoken more than two words to each other when not working. Blinking when her phone dinged in her purse, she managed a small nod. "Apology accepted. And I offer my own for being a bitch."

Dean smirked, took a final drag from his cigarette, and let it fall to the pavement. "Yeah, you really need to work on that. Lighten up a little, huh?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It was a joke. Jesus. But you can be a little uptight. Especially when it comes to your asshole husband."

"What—" she cut off with a scowl. "What have you got against him? He's a wonderful guy."

"Save that shit for someone who cares. I know, I know," he added, holding up both hands before she could speak. "You're blissfully happy. You've known him forever. He kept you strung along until you were old enough to drink, and two weeks after popping your cherry he popped the question."

"You're disgusting. I'm not going to stand here and listen to this," she hissed. Snatching up her purse, she stepped around him, hating how angry he made her. With a growl, she turned to grab her suitcase. He was right there, causing her to rear back. "Please, leave me alone."

"I just have one question for you." His white-knuckled grip on the handle of her suitcase made it impossible for her to take it and leave. With a huff, she waited, growing angrier when he smiled and she noted the dimple in his left cheek.

"What?" she ground out.

"How much do you know about his little lapdog? That perky blonde that follows him around like a shadow."

"Melissa?" she clarified, anger giving way to confusion. "She's his assistant."

His chuckle sent a chill down her spine. "Sure."

"Why do you care?"

He lit another cigarette, eyes never leaving her as he drew in a lungful and released the smoke slowly. When the cloud began to float away he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. "Check out all the footage of our interviews."

"Do what now?"

"Our interviews. A friend pointed out something to me that, well, I was almost embarrassed that I'd let show. So go ahead, watch for yourself. If you don't see what he saw, and what I saw, you're either blind or stupid."

That damned dimple again. Her phone dinged several times in a row and she reached for her suitcase.

He handed it over with a small bow. "See you later, Lizzie."

A/N: Yea or nay?