Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: Before a big match, Paige loses her signature leather jacket. Fortunately, Dean has a replacement for her. AmbrosePaige, oneshot

Oh my gosh, a new story! I almost can't believe it! Okay, this idea is silly and probably OOC to the nth degree. But it got into my head and I couldn't get it out and it developed a mind of its own. I've become recently obsessed with DeanPaige and this is my first attempt at them. I've never written them before but I hope that y'all enjoy this! I've certainly had a blast writing it, since it's so silly and DEANPAIGE! Anyway! Thanks so much for sticking with me!

Lost and Found

"Where is it?!"

Paige felt like letting out a scream rivaling any one she had ever belted out prior to this moment, but she contained her rage and frustration. Barely. Of course, the one moment of control didn't make up for the countless other times when she had shrieked in absolute, unadulterated rage. The dark-haired Diva paced around the locker room, turning over random things and, in general, looking like a crazy person.

She honestly didn't remember the last time she got so worked up over something so seemingly trivial. Honestly, it should be trivial. It should be the most trivial thing in the world. It was just a piece of clothing, she wanted to tell herself.

Paige looked over the locker room and felt slightly better. It was strange that making a complete mess of things was enough to make her feel calm, at least for the moment.

But her prized leather jacket was still missing.

And remembering that made her feel that strange rage all over again.

Someone had to have taken it. They must have. The hanger that it was usually folded over so gently was completely empty. Paige knew she had placed it there not hours before she had made her way to the ring to warm up with Emma. But surely there had been others in the locker room who had passed by her jacket and thought, maybe, "Damn, Paige has a great sense of style. Let me steal her precious."

Bitches, the lot of them.

Paige tried to remove that line of thought from her mind. The other Divas on the roster weren't completely horrid people. Or, well, barring the Bellas. The Anti-Diva felt her nose wrinkle as she thought of Nikki and Brie - primarily the former, who wore the Divas Championship around her curvaceous waist as if it were the latest in a long line of accessories and not something to be cherished.

And, at tonight's Pay-Per-View, Paige was going to demolish Nikki Bella and take back what was rightfully hers.

But she wanted to look damn good doing it.

Paige gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. It was really immature of her to get so perturbed about this, but she found herself unable to calm down. Erratically, she thought of AJ Lee and her tantrums; that worked, ironically, to calm her down in the smallest of ways.

With one last look around the locker room, she sighed gruffly. The match was about to start. She couldn't be late out to the ring just because of her jacket. Giving one more exasperated sigh, she ran a hand over her hair and turned to the locker room door, staring at it as if offended by its presence, before stomping over and yanking it open.

"Whoa," a familiar voice stated, lazy yet tinged with that madness he was so well known for. "Where's the fire, P?"

Paige glared at Dean Ambrose. "It just sounded like I have fire pee."

"First class humor, my crumpet."

Paige bristled. Looks like AJ's old nickname for her had stuck around long after she had left the business. She felt a sudden longing to text her, but wondered how that would be received.

Dean's lips quirked at an odd angle, his eyes glinting in curiosity. Paige kind of wanted to punch him - or maybe kiss him.

"No jacket?"

Paige wrinkled her nose. "I can't find it."

"That's odd."

"Yeah."

Without blinking an eye, Dean started to shrug his thick, leather jacket off his shoulders. Paige watched him with vague amusement, trying to fight her facination with his biceps as they made their appearance.

"I didn't ask for a strip tease, Deano."

Dean's mouth split in a wide grin, a joke unsaid hung in the air between them. With fingers curled in the jacket, he presented it to The Anti-Diva. "Here."

She narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Dean drawled, rolling a shoulder in that casual way he had. "Just trying to help a girl in need."

"Since when do you randomly help people?"

"I like to think of myself as the Batman to Roman's Superman."

"You're more like Two-Face."

Ignoring her jab, Dean replied, "Wanna be my Catwoman? You'd look hot in that leather outfit - "

Paige snatched the leather jacket from his hands, glaring at him playfully. "Okay, I'm taking the bloody jacket just so you shut your mouth."

The dark-haired Diva pushed past him; she chose to ignore the way she purposefully brushed his shoulder. The resulting tingles shooting down her spine were harder to deny, but she digressed.

She was going to be late, that was for sure. Paige heard her entrance music begin to play. She slung the large jacket over her thin frame. It fell over her in a pleasant way; large but not too-large, and smelling distinctly of Dean. It made her giddy in that strange high school way, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Inhaling deeply as she stepped through the curtain and out into the view of thousands of people, Paige felt her stomach flutter - and she was certain it wasn't just from the audience.

"So," Emma said, holding a familiar piece of leather in her hands. "Paige's jacket didn't have to go to the cleaners?"

Roman looked down at the blonde with a soft smile on his face. "Well, not exactly."

"Dean just wanted an excuse to talk to Paige," Emma said the words in a disjointed way, as if trying to make sense of them herself.

"Oh, Dean can pick up random skanks all day long, but he's surprisingly inept when it comes to girls he really likes," Roman said, watching as Dean paced back and forth, occasionally looking up to the television to watch Paige put Nikki in hold after hold with the buxom Bella countering each time.

"Shut your trap, Ro," Dean snapped. Roman grinned, remembering how he almost lost it when Paige started seductively taking off Dean's jacket before throwing her head back and letting out her trademark scream.

"That's kind of adorable," Emma murmured, leaning awkwardly over to Roman.

The Samoan Superman looked a thickly muscled arm around her shoulders, whispering in her ear, "Don't tell anyone."

"I'm going to kill you two - that's it, P, rip her extensions out!"

And that was how Roman and Emma left him, the two of them snickering as they let the door slide shut.

"Disqualification, seriously?"

Paige looked up, dark strands of hair sticking to her brow. "Bloody Brie."

"I'll make Brie bloody for you."

"Watch it, Batman."

A pause, a shared grin between the two.

"I like to think my jacket gave you luck," Dean started, voice calm and cool despite the nervous roiling of his stomach. "But that was all you out there."

"Flattery," Paige mused, drawling in a way that was almost identical to Dean's. "Never thought that would come from you."

"Truth is the only thing I deal in, P," he said, suddenly fierce. "If you sucked, I'd say you sucked."

"You suck."

And those playful words were enough to disperse the situation.

"So," Paige said, in that bold way of hers that was slightly terrifying, but Dean would never let anyone know that he felt that way. "You could take me out for drinks, since your jacket was clearly the opposite of lucky."

Dean smirked. "Alright, then." His fingers reached out and brushed the collar of his jacket, which was still firmly enveloping Paige's form. "But if it's so unlucky, why don't you take it off?"

Paige, without missing a beat, looked firmly into Dean's eyes, smirked, and said, "I'll risk it."

And, as the two of them walked out of the arena, Dean found himself thinking - without a hint of his usual begrudging nature - that he'd risk it all, just to have her look at him like that again.

End.