SO SORRY THAT I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG! I know what I want to say, but I just can't get it out. And then, I went to RAW reunion this week, and actually got Dean's autograph! HOLY CRAP he's even more gorgeous in real life!

Anyways, this could end up being a little filler-ish but I hope to be back soon!

Her heart was in her throat, watching from the monitor in Jon's dressing room as he was attacked by Bray Wyatt. Her brain was doing a shoddy job trying to remind her that this was all scripted, that her boyfriend would be fine, most likely walking back towards her with that boyish grin she loved so much. Whitney knew Jon had a indy background as a hardcore wrestler, the scar on his shoulder proof of his tough way to the top. It was hard enough for her to watch those videos, watching blood pour out of him, but seeing him now, being loaded onto a gurney, head and neck restrained, she trembled at the sight.

Jon blinked slowly as he was put on the stretcher, adrenaline wearing off and being switched out for exhaustion. He felt bad for the crowd, their silence almost more deafening than their cheers. Part of him wished he could sit up at that moment and wave, prove to those kids on the brink of crying that the invincible Dean Ambrose was just that. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't, and settled into trying to sell his injury that much more.

"Almost there, Deano. Hang on." the man at his head whispered, dressed as a paramedic, though Jon swore he'd seen him as Rosebud the week before. He nodded slowly, the shadows of the camera fading away as they crossed through the curtain, and away from the eyes of the WWE Universe. The gurney stopped just outside of Gorilla position, the crew beginning to unbuckle him, right as Jon found a pair of eyes he hadn't counted on seeing him in that state. She'd known Bray was going to jump him from behind that evening, but he'd forgotten to tell her exactly how it was going to end.

A couple of minutes was all it took before Jon was freed, one of the crew handing him a neck brace for later, clapping him on the back as he sat on the stretcher, his long legs dangling over the side. Whitney waited until they were alone before she dared approach, Jon pulling her to stand between his legs. Soft fingers grazed his neck, from his collarbones to his jaw. He took her hands within his own, blowing on her fingertips.

"Your hands are cold, darlin'." he grinned, the upturn in his lips falling flat, Whitney still trembling, watery eyes still checking for injuries.

"I'm alright, baby."

"I know."

"It's all staged. Bray and I had it down pat."

"Mm-hm."

"Sweets, look at me." Using his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes, her trembling reaching fever pitch.

"It just looked so real. And then you're lying there, and they're wheeling you out. And the silence. So real." She shivered, Jon pulling her into his chest, smoothing her hair back, kissing the crown of her head.

"I'm alright, sugar. Right here." Jon rocked her for a moment, her trembles subsiding as she felt the steady beat of his heart against her ear. Hopping off the gurney, he kept her within his grasp as they walked back towards their room.

"There is a silver lining in all of this, you know."

"And that is?" she asked, looking back at him crazily. What could possibly be good about getting a steel chair forcefully shoved against your windpipe?

"Dean Ambrose is injured. I'm off 'til RAW. No house shows, no interviews."

"A whole five days?" Whitney raised her eyebrow at his words. Since when was Jon this excited about not being in the ring?"

"Yep. Almost the whole week. Which means, we get some time to ourselves."

"What do you have planned?" she countered, wondering what was cooking in that brain of his.

"Wanna come to Vegas with me?"

XxX

They'd gotten in early that Wednesday morning, beating the sun to the city. He wondered silently to himself as he placed his key in the lock if Whitney had felt this awkward the first time that he'd seen her house as he felt about that moment.

"It's not much, but I'm never home for long. I think Leighla and Galina tried to decorate last time we were here." Whitney giggled at his admission, seeing the girly accents that were so not him. Opening the blinds to let a little more light in the room, Whitney fell in love with the sight of the sun coming up over the city. Jon watched her from the doorway, stunned at how after everything he'd done to try to make those walls feel like more, standing there, watching her, made it feel like he was finally home. Crossing the gap, he wrapped his arms around her, Whitney relaxing into his chest.

"I know it's not anything fancy-"

"It's got potential." she grinned, tugging on the red curtains on the edge of the window, almost bursting out in laughter at Jon's scrunched face.

"I wanna make this place ours. No, no, hear me out. You let me into your house back in Texas, and it feels like my house now too."

"It is." Whitney spun in his arms, hands flat against his chest, Jon dropping his own to her hips. He loved that house, and sometimes had daydreams about the two of them having kids, raising them in the same lower middle class suburbia that the woman he loved grew up in.

"Then why not here too? We're on the road so much, it isn't always easy to get back to Dallas. What if we had another place to come home to? A get away?"

"But what if I leave something here that I need back in Dallas? A favorite pair of shoes or something?" Whitney teased, already hooked on the idea. Jon rolled his eyes, kissing her forehead.

"You've been spending way too much time with Miss Shop-aholic Nikki Bella. I'll buy you all the shoes you want, darlin'. Anything for you."

Seven months ago, Jon never would have guessed he'd be in the situation he was in at that very moment. Since he was a child, Jon had pushed people away. He'd been burned as a child, his family being taken away from him for one reason or another. Wrestling had given him solace from that pain, but in the end, spurred its own, friends turning into foes, guys and girls leaving buddies behind for belts, or at least the chances for one. Even Joe and Colby had to work to get behind Jon's walls, Colby especially, after he was scripted to disband the Shield.

After spending Wednesday being lazy bums, losing a battle to jet lag, Jon was surprised Thursday, waking up late that morning, alone in bed. Stumbling into the kitchen, he smiled. Her hair was wet, dark blonde waves just past her shoulders, in one of his Bengals shirts and a pair of yoga pants.

"Morning, sleepyhead." she greeted, kissing his cheek as he grabbed a coffee cup.

"Someone's chipper." he grumbled, scratching aimlessly at his bare chest. Whitney shrugged, blushing a bit.

"I saw that little market on our way here yesterday. I didn't want us living out of takeout containers and restaurants the whole time. So I bought a few groceries." Jon smirked into his cup, shaking his head slightly.

"Coulda woke me up. I was expecting my teddy bear." he pouted, tugging her by the shirt into his arms.

"I know you've been tired lately, wanted you to get some sleep." Whitney knew he hadn't been sleeping well since their argument back in October. She'd woken up a couple of times from his tossing and turning.

"I just worry."

"This from the man who told me I worry too much?"

"Hush." Dean chuckled, playing with a strand of her damp hair.

"I worry about you. Are you alright. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I worry about me. Sometimes I don't know when to stop. Am I actually alright, or am I just putting up a front so people won't worry about me. I worry about us. I don't wanna lose you."

"You're not going to lose me, silly. But if you don't let me go for a second, we both might lose breakfast." she giggled, Jon letting her go, but not without a pat on the butt.

XxX

He'd fallen asleep on the couch that Saturday afternoon, finding himself alone again, a knock at the door waking him up.

"Babe?" Jon asked, ruffling his matted hair.

"In here. Who's at the door?" Whitney called from the bathroom, Jon shrugging, not like she could see. Checking through the peephole, he grinned, catching Joe ready to knock again.

"You sneaks!" Jon laughed, opening the door to not only Joe, but his wife Galina, as well Colby and Leighla.

"How did you know we were here?" he hadn't exactly told anyone they were headed to Vegas, not wanting to hear more stupid jokes from Dolph about them coming back married. Not yet, at least. An innocent sounding whistle came from behind him, Jon clicking his tongue, answering his own question.

"Hey y'all." she smirked, Jon rolling his eyes, but still enamored looking at her. Dark boot cut jeans and a black and blue flannel shirt, her hair tied in pin straight ponytail.

"What kind of family would we be if we didn't help celebrate your birthday, Jonny boy?" Colby laughed, shoving Jon towards his room.

"Now go get ready so we can tear this town up right."