A/N: B***h, I'm back, by popular demand! :P This is the first chapter of the sequel to Won't Be Pushed Aside. I originally had plans to keep everything as one huge story, but I realized splitting it into parts that focused on different aspects, plots, conflict, and progress in Dean's day-to-day life was more logical. However, they are all really still a part of the same story. So please continue to bear with me. And enjoy, lovelies~

Chapter 1

Dean dragged himself into the Donald L. Tucker Civic Center on lead feet. His stomach churned with nausea. The sick feeling hadn't left since he'd arrived in Cincinnati and saw the state his mom was in. She'd gotten herself beat up pretty badly and robbed in her own home, most likely by guys she sat around getting high with. Police didn't have any leads, but they weren't making any more than minimal effort. His mother was a crackhead. The absolute dregs of society. Whatever happened to her, she brought on herself in their eyes.

Laura had been a crying mess seeing their mom black and blue and unconscious. She'd also tried to guilt Dean into sticking around, like she always did. And she'd convinced Dean to take care of their mom's medical bills. Of course Dean would, if it would keep them both off his back.

He was pretty pissed off when he got to the locker room. He wasn't scheduled to wrestle for a few days, even though he'd argued with the higher-ups that he was more than ready to fight. But they wanted him to "cool off", "take some time to himself", and "get his mind in a good place." Yeah, right.

Dean found Roman and Seth chatting and laughing about something while Roman geared up for his match tonight. He approached them. "What's up, guys?"

Their smiles disappeared when they noticed him. They looked somber and awkward.

Dean rolled his eyes. "She's beaten up, but she ain't dead. So would you idiots stop looking like I just came from her funeral?"

The tension between them relaxed a degree. Seth shook his head. "You're subhuman, you know that?"

Dean shrugged and tossed aside his overnight bag. What would Seth have him do? Mope and cry and get all depressed because of the state his mom was in? If he did that every single time she ended up like this, he'd have cried enough to fill up the entire damned city. Besides, it had pained him to see his mom lying on the hospital bed and bruised all over. Despite everything she'd done to him growing up, Dean hated to see her hurt. A part of him thirsted to find the bastards who'd put their grimy hands on her and rip their arms clean out of their sockets.

"You okay, Dean? You look tired," Roman said, his expression filled with concern for his best friend.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. He imagined he did look tired, among other things, his eyes shot from lack of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. He hadn't shaved his face in that time, either, so he was sure he looked like some unkempt redneck. "I am tired," he admitted. "So fucking tired."

"Why don't you come home with me, then?" Roman offered. "Pensacola's only two and a half hours from here. I guarantee you'll sleep better at my place than at a hotel."

Dean thought about it. Ever since Roman's little revelation the other day, Dean had planned on keeping some distance between them. At least until he sorted shit out in his own head.

But, he liked Pensacola. It was sunny, tropical, and mostly warm all year round. It'd be like a refreshing mini-vacation.

"I'll make sapa sui for you," Roman added.

"Sold."

They grinned.

Roman patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Dean. I'll take care of you. What about you, Seth? We could make it a boys' night."

"Nah. Not today." Seth gave them a sly grin. "I finally worked up the nerve to talk to Sasha the other day. She agreed to dinner and a movie after work. So... your boy will be busy tonight."

Roman whistled low. "Damn, Seth. Just make sure you wear a raincoat, buddy."

Seth blushed. "We're not doing that. Jesus."

"Yeah, but don't act like you haven't thought about it."

Seth huffed. "Not really, no. I respect the hell outta her."

Dean took a seat and zoned out while his brothers droned on about whatever. Every cell in his body begged for sleep, but he didn't think he'd be able to. Not with the images occupying his brain. Not only of just his mother's unfortunate injuries, but Dean's own past, growing up damned near poor in Cincinnati. Father in jail; mother a drug-addicted prostitute; the things he'd been forced to do...

"Dean?"

Dean glanced up into Roman's sympathetic eyes.

"You all right?" Roman asked.

"I'm good."

"You gonna come with me after my match's over?"

Dean nodded. He knew he shouldn't, but the offer was too tempting. Time alone with Roman, in beautiful Pensacola, gorging on his favorite meal? Hell yes.

"Oh, hey, Randy. How's it going?"

Dean peered up to see Randy Orton standing in the locker room's doorway. Dean hadn't even noticed him come in.

Randy's smile was cool and unworried as he glanced between the two of them. His penetrating blue gaze finally landed on Roman. "I'm always good, Roman. What about you? Warming up for your match tonight?"

"That's the plan."

Randy patted his thick, tattooed shoulder. "Good luck out there."

Roman's smile widened. "Thanks, Orton. Appreciate it." He looked at Dean. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Yep," Dean answered.

Roman left the locker room, shutting the two of them in together.

Dean sighed softly, watching Randy watch him with that unreadable face of his. "What?"

Randy shrugged. "How was your trip?"

Dean didn't bother to answer that. Every moment of it had been shitty.

Randy smirked. "That bad huh?"

"What do you want, Orton?" His tone was more weary and tiredness than the combativeness he usually directed at Randy. What could he say? The guy was actually starting to grow on him.

Randy folded those muscled, tatted arms across his t-shirt clad chest. "I didn't know you were back."

"Yeah, I just touched down about an hour ago."

"And you're going to Pensacola?"

"Yep."

"With Roman?"

Dean's gaze narrowed on the older male. "Yeah. Is there a problem? I'm not allowed to hang with my best friend?"

"No problem, Dean. I was just under the assumption that you and I had plans when you got back."

Dean frowned. "Plans? You and me? I don't remember—" Memories flashed through his mind. The other day at the airport en route to Cincinnati, he had made some kind of deal with Randy. In exchange for information about his true feelings for Roman, he would allow Randy to take him to dinner. Like a date. "Crap."

Randy's upper lip curled as he watched the realization play out on Dean's face. "It's cool, Dean. I get it. Hell, I should have known better than to try to compete with Reigns anyway."

Dean's entire body stiffened, his gaze fixed on the man in front of him. It was obvious now that Randy was upset. His relaxed body had tensed around the edges, like he was struggling to keep his composure and failing. "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean all but growled.

But Randy had already exited the locker room. Dean raked a hand through his hair, but his ass was glued to the spot. He wanted to go after Randy and demand answers, but for some reason he couldn't make himself move.

The drive from Tallahassee to Pensacola was only a bit over two hours thanks to Roman's smooth and steady driving on the highway.

Roman had urged him to get some sleep. That he would wake him once they were at his place. But Dean hadn't been able to. Not with all the guilt plaguing him.

Dean ignored the golf course, the car dealerships, the flea market, and the tree tunnel that was probably scenic in the daytime, but looked creepy at night. A Day to Remember played in the car, but Dean couldn't figure out which song.

How could he have forgotten about Randy and all that he'd said? Especially since—difficult and weird as it was—Randy had been pretty nice to him. The guy seemed to really be interested in Dean. Operative word: seemed.

One moment of weakness, and here he was back at square one again.

Roman slowed the car down when he drove into a residential area. Besides the Pensacola Greyhound Racing & Poker, there weren't a lot of commercial properties or businesses around.

Dean liked the homes out here. They were big and well designed, with a lot of them overlooking the ocean. Roman's home was like that. Spacious and Mediterranean, with a hint of a tropical feel to it. It also had an amazing view of the ocean, and its own dock built right in. But of course, it was almost a requirement to have a home this size with the large family he had. Samoans were a family-oriented, tight-knit group, so they were constantly visiting Ro at his place whenever he had down time.

Dean couldn't really say the same. Besides Roman and Seth, no one ever really visited him. Kev and Solomon did occasionally, but they were more drinking buddies than anything else.

Roman's sudden hand on his shoulder tore him from his thoughts. "Dean, you awake? We're here."

Dean stretched as if he'd really been sleeping. His body ached and popped in protest. "What time is it?"

"It's half past twelve."

They got out and grabbed their bags from the trunk. Roman let them inside and turned on the lights. Dean couldn't help gazing around at all the beige, marble, and glass illuminated by the soft yellow glow. Even though he'd been here a thousand times. "Thanks man. I'm gonna put these up in the spare room."

Roman nodded. "Not a problem. By the way, do you want sapa sui now, or are you too tired?"

He was definitely tired, but he'd rather eat first. "Chop suey. And a cold beer if you have any."

"You know I've always got that. You go ahead and make yourself at home. I got dinner."

Dean forced a smile. "Don't you mean that meal that's after dinner but before breakfast? What's it called?"

"FourthMeal. At least, that's what Taco Bell says."

"And everyone knows Taco Bell is always right."

Roman laughed, but didn't say anything. He went to wash his hands and prepare their meal.

Dean put his stuff away, actually taking the time to be neat about it since Roman would complain if he didn't. Once he finished, he grabbed a cold Miller Lite from the fridge. "I'll be outside," he called to Roman in the living room. He was catching up on sports highlights on ESPN while the water was boiling.

Randy had been doing the same thing when Dean had visited him in his hotel that first time. Just without the boiling water.

Dean stepped out into the huge backyard terrace, with its usually lit swimming pool and hot tub. The ocean breeze was cool enough that he still wore his jacket. The desert was like that, too. Even in the winter, it was hot as hell's balls as long as the sun blazed over the horizon. But as soon as it set, it got real cold, real fast.

He popped open his beer and drank. The moon shone brilliantly over the swaying waters, but Dean couldn't focus on it, even though that was why he'd come out here. His mind filled with his last hotel visit to Orton. How desperate he'd been.

Fuck, it had felt so damn good to touch Randy like that. To be touched and kissed by him. Nothing had actually happened because Dean hadn't been in the right head space. But it was enough that it left him wanting more.

He sucked in a big gulp of beer and adjusted the front of his pants due to his swelling cock. Dean didn't want to lie to himself. He felt bad about ditching the guy, even if it had been unintentional.

The glass door slid open and Roman stepped outside. "Bean threads are cooking," he announced. "I'll sautee the onions in a little bit." He popped open his own can of beer.

Dean faced him. "No mixed veggies?"

Roman chuckled. "I got fresh bok choy just for you. What is the obsession?"

"I just like how it tastes in my chop suey, better. Gives it a more natural, refreshing taste, know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean." Roman glanced his way. His eyes appeared dark in the porch light. "So, what's up?"

Dean hesitated and looked back out at the ocean, listening to the wind whistle across it. The question seemed innocent enough, but the way he said it, and the way Roman knew him so well, it was loaded. "Nothing," Dean finally answered. It was the polite way of telling his friend not to go there.

Roman didn't. He actually relaxed a degree. "What did Randy want?"

"Randy?"

"Yeah. He seemed pretty anxious to talk to you. And upset. But maybe that's just me. If he was, he was being real subtle about it."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Why would Orton be upset with me? The guy likes me, Ro."

Roman snorted in disbelief before he headed back inside. "If you say so."

Left alone with just the cool breeze and darkness, Dean pulled out his cell phone. He stared at Randy's contact information.

The guy liked him...

But how did Dean feel about him? Really?

Dean didn't hesitate to shoot off a text.

Back tomorrow. You better pick out a nice place.

*Send*

A/N: So what did you all think? Loved it? Hated it? Do you know what direction this is going? I love reading all your comments and theories! :)