Disclaimer: These aren't mine, please don't sue me. They belong to WWE.

Note: This is another trailer for the bigger story I'm working on. This story contains mpreg, if you don't like that, don't read!

DSRDSRDSRDSRDSRDSRDSRDSRDSRDSR

There are a lot of things that you inherit from your parents: Eyes, hair color, height, weight, possible health conditions, Dean believed that he'd also inherited his mother's terrible luck with men. His mother seemed to have a competition running with some of her friends on who could have the worst boyfriend and his mother usually won, if being beaten to a pulp and have your bones broken multiple times counted as a win.

His own list of shitty exes was long and most were better left forgotten, most of them had been abusive, drunks, drug users, or any combination thereof. Many of them had wanted Dean to give up his wrestling career, which was usually their main source of income, and pop out kids for them, but he'd always refused. If he had children(it was still up in the air)it was going to be with Mister or Ms Right, and not a minute before.

He'd thought he'd found that person in Seth. Seth seemed to be everything he could ever want in a partner. He was loving, fun, always made Dean feel like he was the most important person in the world. Their relationship had just started out as friends with benefits, but it had slowly morphed into a loving, albeit it secret, relationship. Dean had even found himself contemplating a life and a future away from wrestling with Seth.

So when he'd begun not feeling well, and he missed his cycle, he'd begun to hope. Seth loved kids and always talked about wanting a big family, just like the one he'd grown up in with his step-dad's family. Dean had still been on the fence, but he wanted to make Seth happy.

Then Seth had turned on them, and Dean found himself in an all-too-familiar position: bruised, broken-hearted, and alone. Roman was taking a shower and Dean was curled up on the bed, trying to get his thoughts together on how they were going to deal with this mess, when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dean? It's Doctor Shelby. I know it's late and you've had a tough night, but I've got your test results back. Congratulations, you're pregnant! I'd say, about four weeks along."

Dean barely managed to get out a 'thank you' before hanging up. He was pregnant, and the father of his child, the man he'd secretly dreamed of having forever with, had turned his back on him, beaten him up with a chair, and left.

Ever since he'd found out that he was one of the men who could get pregnant, Dean had always feared becoming like his mother. When his piece of shit father had been arrested, it had left his mother with no real way of supporting herself or Dean, and that desperation had lead his mother down the path of prostitution and drugs that had shaped his childhood and eventually left him orphaned. He was in an equally desperate situation; he'd barely graduated from high school, he'd never gone to college, and his job depended on him being able to get in the ring every night to wrestle. Once it was disclosed that he was pregnant, he'd be out of a job and, without Seth, almost no way of supporting himself or a child.

As the realization of just how screwed he was hit him, Dean felt tears slide down his face. He'd never been much of a crier, but right now that was all he could think of to do.

He'd heard once that an apple doesn't fall far from the tree and he believed it. He'd inherited his mother's eyes, her nose, and her terrible luck with men. The apple hadn't fallen far from the tree, it had rolled into the hole left when the tree had fallen.

The End.