Boxes and briefcases, and a happy ending.

(a/n: I took some artistic licensing with this chapter, but it had to be done to keep in line with actual events I wanted to keep intact.)

So, here it is, two months later. Part of it was me not wanting to let this fic go, and part of it was life getting to be a little crazy and hectic. I wanted to take a moment and thank every person who's read, bookmarked, kudo'd, and commented. This would not have been completed if it weren't for all of you, and your response and feedback to this fic is so much more than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you all, so so much, and I hope you enjoy the end of this ride.

Seth returns to work, and Dean moves back home. It's an adjustment getting used to how things are now, the fact that he's not quite a nobody from Davenport, Iowa because he's dating Dean Ambrose, the follower count on is Twitter and Instagram rising every day. He doesn't understand that. He hardly posts anything at all, and when he does, it never pertains to Dean. It's always food or Kevin related, and the comments are a thing he's learned to ignore for the most part, except to laugh at the ones that beg and plead for candids of Dean, as if Seth would ever post any of those.

Dean ends up losing his Intercontinental Championship, but the odds were hardly in his favor. No matter, Seth is proud of him.

The months fly by, and before Seth knows it, the school year is over, and he's packing up his classroom once again, a box on the floor beside his desk while Dean does his best to distract him, mouth warm and wet on Seth's neck.

"C'mon, lemme finish," Seth says, trying futilely to twist away from Dean. "Quicker I get this done, quicker we can get home."

Dean hums softly, the buzz of his lips vibrating against the sensitive shell of Seth's ear. "Or," he says, a hand snaking around Seth's body, fingertips sliding beneath his shirt, "we could make good use of this desk."

Seth swallows roughly, tries to ignore the heat pooling down low in his belly. He remembers Dean's text from so many months ago, don't think id be doing much learning if u were my teacher, and it has his heart racing, the sound of blood rushing echoing through his ears.

"C'mon," Dean croons, pulls Seth's body in tighter against his, and all Seth can do is relax back against him, resolve quickly falling away. "The lot was empty when we got here. You can cloose the door and lock it, and I can spread you out across this desk."

Seth curses under his breath, knowing Dean has won.

Fucker likes to play dirty.

He lets Dean sweep the rest of his tings off the top of the desk and into a box, and then Dean's crowding him up against the edge of the desk, their hips slotted together as Dean's hands frame Seth's face, lips hovering against Seth's so close but nowhere near close enough.

"Kiss me," Dean whispers, words spoken against Seth's lip, sending tiny little shivers across Seth's skin. Seth does, because what else can he do, because he will never not want to kiss Dean, and he melts into the feel of Dean's lips against his own, warm and wet and slightly chapped, each slide of lips and swipe of a tongue a practiced and fluid motion.

"Here, c'mon," Dean says, pressure of his hands against Seth's ass, and then he's being lifted, up onto the top of the desk, Dean settling down into the chair behind him, placed perfectly between the spread of Seth's legs.

"The door," Seth points out, jerking his head in that direction. He's getting hard already, but the door isn't locked, and he's not going to be able to enjoy anything until he's as certain as he can be that no one's going to walk in.

"Paranoid," Dean sing-songs, but he rises to his feet and locks the door, gesturing at it like it's a prize.

"Wouldn't be callin' me paranoid if someone were to walk in and take pictures of your pale ass," Seth retorts, laughing at Dean's affronted look. "It's pale, Dean, get over it."

"Bite me."

"Mmm," says Seth, makes grabby hands at Dean until he's closer and he can pull him in, and he sets his teeth to Dean's shoulder when he reels him in, blunt and barely there through the fabric of Dean's t-shirt. He settles his hands at Dean's hips, pushing the t-shirt up and up and up until he can pull it over Dean's head, and then he gets his teeth on Dean's nipple, soothing the sting of the bite with a soft swipe of his tongue.

Dean curses softly, threading a hand through Seth's hair. "Thought—thought I was gonna be spreadin' you out across the desk."

"Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun," Seth says, dragging his lips and tongue down the center of Dean's chest, his stomach, as low as he can go without having to push Dean back, before the angle makes his neck hurt.

Realistically, Seth knows he shouldn't be dragging this out. There's only so much time before a custodian will come to the door, discover it's locked, and get the keys to unlock it. Classrooms are emptied and cleaned out as soon as the teachers are done using them for the year, and Seth's sure the custodians want to get their summer vacation started as soon as they possibly can.

Still, it gives him a little thrill to be taking his time here, knowing that at any moment, someone could come to the door and knock on it, find out they're in there and what they're doing.

It's slow-going, but eventually, Dean gets him turned, his shorts and briefs down around his ankles, sliding his dick along the cleft of Seth's ass, and all Seth can do is hold tight to the top of the desk, sweat trickling along the dip of his spine, breathing in short, shuddering gasps.

"C'mon, c'mon," Seth says, canting his hips back. He knows he's leaking all over the top of the desk, but he doesn't care, dick sliding through the wet mess of precome.

"I got you," Dean says, smoothing a hand down the line of Seth's back, anchoring at his hip. There's no lube, and Seth's a little frustrated, but this, this is good, too, Dean's dick sliding along his crack, the tip slip-sliding back and forth over his asshole, and it gets better when Dean wraps a hand around his dick, thumbing at the wet tip, rocking his hips back and forth like he's actually fucking Seth, and Seth's losing his mind, Dean's cock nudging up against his balls again and again, his hand stroking Seth expertly.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Dean says, soft, breathy, reverent.

Seth moans, long and low, trying to keep his voice down, but it's futile with the way Dean keeps thumbing at the tip of his cock, stroking sure and tight, and it's not long before Seth's breathing stutters, a cry of Dean's name falling from his lips, coming hot and wet in spurts over the desk, Dean's fist, Dean not far behind him, soaking his balls, the insides of his thighs.

Seth's legs feel like rubber when he tries to stand straight, after Dean's placed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. He's hot and sweaty, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably, and he's not exactly excited about having to pull his briefs and shorts back up with all the come covering his skin, but it's dirty and filthy, thrilling in a way Seth's kind of surprised to find he likes.

Dean helps Seth right his clothing, smoothing his hair off his forehead. He kisses Seth softly, grinning. "Fuckin' amazing, babe," he says, cheeks flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He's always so fucking gorgeous, it makes Seth's heart feel too full sometimes.

Seth kisses him again, because he wants to, because he can. "I love you."

Dean grins, cheeks dimpling. "I love you, too. C'mon, let's go home."

"We're just leaving the desk like that?" Seth asks, trying hard not to make a face of disgust. He doesn't want any of the custodians coming in, seeing the desk in his classroom covered in come. That's—it's. No.

"I guess not," Dean says. He grabs the box of Kleenex that's on top of one of the bookshelves, pulling out a handful and swiping them haphazardly over the top of the desk. "Better?" At Seth's nod, Dean says, "Good. C'mon, I'm hungry."

Seth double-checks his clothes, makes sure there are no suspicious stains anywhere, and when he finds that he looks okay, he unlocks the door and opens it, Dean following behind him with the box of Seth's stuff tucked under his arm.

Seth's glad to be back on the road with Dean. As hectic as it can be sometimes, as stressful and grueling as it is to travel from city to city every night, he loves being with Dean again, loves that he doesn't have to sit home alone every night, missing Dean.

They're in Vegas today, Money in the Bank scheduled to start in a few hours. Dean's quiet, running through stretches and warm-ups, and Seth's content to sit back and watch, knowing Dean has a lot running through his mind.

Seth won't lie and say he's not just as on edge, his nerves setting his stomach into an avalanche of butterflies. There's a lot on the line for Dean tonight: the Money in the Bank briefcase—which Seth is certain Dean will win—and the shot at the World Heavyweight Championship that comes with it.

Dean pauses between push-ups, settling up on his haunches, a crease between his brows.

"You okay?" Seth asks, keeping his voice quiet and hushed.

Dean nods, then shakes his head. "Big night," he says, voice just as quiet as Seth's. "Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Win or lose tonight," Seth says, "I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you."

"I know." Dean pushes up off the floor, rising to his feet and crossing the small bit of distance between them. He drops a kiss to Seth's lips, a soft, chaste thing that Seth tries to deepen, shasing the grinning pink of Dean's lips as they separate.

"Okay, okay," Seth says, grinning up at Dean. "Go finish your workout."

Before Dean can drop back down to the floor, there's a knock on the door, Roman's head peeking through a moment later. He's in shorts and a tank top, his hair piled in a bun on top of his head. His headphones are draped around his neck, and he looks like he's just gotten in from a run.

"Hey, Roman," Seth greets him, quick nod of his head in Roman's direction.

"Hey, Seth." Roman nods back, but his eyes quickly land on Dean where he's standing with his hands on his hips. "Just wanted to borrow your boy here for a minute."

Seth raises an eyebrow in Dean's direction, but Dean shakes his head, offers Seth a sincere smile that Seth returns, and then Dean is following Roman out the door, leaving Seth to wonder what they're talking about.

Dean doesn't say anything when he comes back in a few moments later, and Seth doesn't press, lets Dean get back to his warm-ups, and before he knows it, the show is starting, and Seth's preparing to make his way out to his front row seat.

"Hey," Dean says, tugs and Seth's hand, and pulls him in, chests pressed flush together. He tugs at the hem of Seth's shirt, one of Dean's official WWE shirts, his eyes locked on Seth's, the clearest shade of blue that Seth loves. "Kiss for luck?"

Seth laughs a little, shakes his head. "You don't need any luck," he says, but he presses his lips against Dean's anyway, will never turn down an opportunity to kiss Dean. "Meet you back here in a few hours?"

Dean hums, nods, kisses Seth against before he shoots Seth out the door, and Seth goes, nodding polite hellos to the superstars he comes across.

The first handful of matches are okay, but Seth's not really on the edge of his seat ntil it gets to the Styles vs Cena match, and then Seth's riveted, so into the match he forgets that Dean's is on next, until it's over and they're playing the video package for the ladder match.

His heart is hammering in his chest and his palms are sweaty as he watches the ladders being placed around the ring, and he has to keep reminding himself to breathe, calmed only by the sight of Dean walking down the ramp, perfect picture of complete focus.

Once the match gets started, it's too much back and forth for anyone to really have the upperhand, and the constant use of ladders as weapons has Seth holding his breath, feeling sick at every blow Dean takes. He's undoubtedly going to be covered in bruises by the end of the night.

When Jericho gets Dean sandwiched between the sides of the ladder, slamming it down on him repeatedly, Seth feels sick, has to look away and try to tune out the pained grunts he can hear. Alberto Del Rio interferes then throwing Jericho into a ladder, away from Dean, and Dean rolls away into a corner of the ring, until Cesaro barrels into the ring, dealing out uppercut after uppercut after uppercut.

Dean is getting beat pretty badly, but Seth's faith and belief in him never wavers, after the Helluva Kick Sami Zayn nails him with, after he gets hit upside the head with the ladder Del Rio is carrying into the ring, after everyone has climbed the ladder except for Dean.

Dean finally gets back in the ring, nails Cesaro with Dirty Deeds, but Jericho is right there, throwing Dean out of the ring so he can climb the ladder himself, but Dean's quick, gets back in the ring, pulls Jericho down, but Jericho counters, hits Dean with the Codebreaker, and Seth's stomach drops, certain the match is over. There's no one in the ring to get in the way, and Jericho is at the top, has his hands on the briefcase, but then Sami Zayn is there, climbing up the ladder, a flurry of his being exchanged, and the match goes on.

Seth's pretty sure his heart stops beating for a minute when Dean climbs the ladder that's set up in the corner, jumping off with a flying elbow drop to Cesaro. It gives Dean an opening to climb the ladder in the middle of the ring, but no, Kevin Owens is there, slamming another ladder into Dean's back, laying him out on top of it, and hits him with a vicious frogsplash that Seth's almost certain probably bruised a rib or two.

The match picks up in its intensity then, everyone feeling the pressure, and it's so close, too close, everyone on the ladders at once. Seth chews at his thumbnail, nervous beads of sweat prickling along his hairline, the nape of his neck, everyone battling with everything they've got, and then it's just Owens and Dean at the top of the ladder, Dean's hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him in against the ladder repeatedly until Owens falls off.

Dean's alone at the top, no one in sight to knock him down, and Seth jumps to his feet, throat going sore with the intensity of his screams as Dean gets his hands on the briefcase, unclipping it and hoisting it up above his head, looking serious and accomplished, and Seth's so goddamn proud he almost can't breath with it, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he grins so wide it feels like his face is going to split in half.

He sallows around the lump in his throat as Dean crosses his chest, bows his head and rests it against the briefcase like he can't believe that he did it, like he didn't believe he'd win when Seth knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was going to be Dean's year.

Seth is in awe as he watches Dean celebrate atop the ladder, a grin don his face, his tongue sticking out, clutching the briefcase to his chest like it was fucking made for him. He looks so fucking good, Seth still can't believe that this is his life, that Dean is his.

As much as Seth wants to go to the back after the match, he reigns himself in, wants to watch Roman in the main event. He sits through the match for the United States Championship, grateful when it ends. He has nothing against either Rusev or Titus O'Neil, he's just anxious to get to the back, and the sooner Roman's match is over, the sooner he can be back in Dean's locker room.

Roman's match is hard fought, and by the end of it, Seth's sure Roman's going to lose, but he manages to muster up enough strength to land a Superman Punch, a spear, and he's retained his title.

Seth grins up at Roman, applauds and cheers as Roman holds the belt above his head, and he's preparing to head to the back when Dean's music hits, and Seth nearly loses his shit. He's on his feet with the rest of the crowd, screaming and cheering himself hoarse, hardly able to believe this is actually happening.

He, along with everyone else, is expecting Dean to come barreling down the ramp, so it takes him by surprise when Dean comes out from under the ring, a steely look of determination on his face as he slides into the ring, Roman barely turning around before Dean nails him in the head with the briefcase, sliding back out and shoving the briefcase at the referee, and Dean's cashing in, holy fuck, Seth's pretty sure his heart is going to give out.

Dean's back in the ring, and the bell has barely rung before he's got his arms hooked with Roman's, planting him with Dirty Deeds before he rolls him over, covering him for the three count, and Dean fucking did it. Dean is the World Heavyweight Champion.

Seth chokes on a hiccuped breath, can barely contain his emotions at the raw look on Dean's face when he's handed the title belt, like it's taking everything in him not to cry, and Seth wouldn't blame him one bit if he did. This is it, this is everything Dean's worked half his life for, and to think that only months ago the possibility of it never happening for him was almost a reality, has has all the reason in the world to cry tears of absolute joy at overcoming all the obstacles and adversity he faced.

Between one blink and the next, Dean is there, standing in front ofhim, cocky little grin on his face, title thrown over his shoulder.

"You're fuckin' insane," Seth says with a grin, laughing and shaking his head.

"They don't call me the lunatic fringe for nothin'," Dean replies, and before Seth can even formulate a response, Dean is pulling Seth in against him, the belt squished between them, and Seth holds on tight to Dean, overwhelmed with emotion.

Fuck, he's so goddamn proud, and he says as much when he pulls away, his hands on either side of Dean's face, not giving a damn that they're in front of thousands, millions, so in love with the man in front of him.

Dean rests their foreheads together, and Seth ignore the way Dean's sweat wets his skin. "Meet me in back in ten," Dean says into Seth's ear before he pulls back, grinning again.

Seth nods, grinning back in response. "You got it." Dean looks like he's about to head back into the ring, but Seth stops him with a hand on his forearm. "One more thing." He gets his hands back on Dean's face, thumbs brushing the flushed apples of Dean's cheeks, and he kisses him, a quick press of lips, right there in front of everyone, ignoring the flush on his own cheeks at the catcalls and whistles that seem to echo around the arena. "Ten minutes."

Seth races through the arena to the backstage, back in Dean's locker room in five. Dean strolls in a few minutes later, looking down at the title in his hands like he's expecting it to be ripped away any minute now. It makes Seth's heart hurt a little that Dean still doesn't feel deserving of the title, never mind the fact that he's worked his ass off for it, has put in all the hours, the blood, the sweat, the tears, deserves it more than probably almost anyone else.

"So," Seth says, smirking at the startled look on Dean's face, as though Dean forgot Seth was waiting for him, "what now, Mr. World Heavyweight Champion?"

Dean shakes his head, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, and Seth's up on and his feet, crossing the small distance to get to Dean, pulling Dean into a tight embrace. He smooths his hands up and down Dean's back, settles on at the nape of Dean's neck. There's the sound of wet snuffling in his ear, and Seth swallows roughly, holding Dean that much tighter.

He can do this, he can give Dean this moment to break apart in his arms before he helps put him back together.

"You did it," Seth whispers, lips moving against the skin of Dean's neck. "You did it, babe."

Dean nods, though Seth feels it more than he sees it, Dean's hair tickling along his skin.

"World Heavyweight Championship," Seth says, a little in awe, fond and reverent. "That's all you, Dean, you did that, you went out there tonight, and you earned that. Everything you've worked for, everything you've given and done for this industry, you deserve it, and I am so goddamn proud of you."

Dean's eyes are red when he pulls back, and Seth wipes away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. "How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve you?"

Seth shrugs, blushes, because he feels like that every single day, and he doesn't think it's a feeling that will ever stop.

"Marry me," Dean says, quick and sudden, and Seth's heart stops, mouth gone dry. "I wanted—I want." He stops, shakes his head, backing away and going over to his gym bag, setting the title down on a chair before he starts digging through it for a minute, returning and dropping down to one knee before Seth can even begin to get his bearings. "I know I'm not perfect, not by any means, and neither are you, but I don't expect you to be. I don't want you to be, for that matter, because the way you are, you are perfect for me. I don't want to spout all those bullshit cliches you always hear, but I mean it when I say I didn't know what I was missing until you walked into my life, and I never want to have to spend another day without you. So, Seth Rollins, will you marry me?"

Dean flips open the ring box in his hand, and nestled there is a simple gold band, a swirl of what he thinks may be platinum running through the middle. It's perfect, and Seth chokes on a sob as he nods his head, pushes out a croaky, "Yes," his hand shaking as Dean takes it and slips the ring onto his finger, almost too quick for Seth to catch sight of the engraving on the inside. "Hey, wait," he says, "what's it say on the inside?"

"Oh," Dean says, his cheeks going a little pink. "Had the date of our first date inscribed on the inside."

Seth grins, can't help it. His boyfriend, his fiance, is fucking perfect. "When did you get that done?" he asks, looking down in amazement at how well the ring fits, how good it looks on his finger.

"Had Roman do it actually," Dean says, shrugging. "That's what he wanted to talk about earlier."

Makes sense. Dean wouldn't have had time to do it himself since they're almost always together.

"How he's feeling about the match?" Seth asks, relaxing back against Dean's chest when Dean pulls him in, Dean's chin resting on Seth's shoulder.

"He lost, so probably not too good, but, y'know, he knows it's all business, not personal. As a wrestler, he's probably pretty pissed, but as my best friend, I'd say he's proud that I finally won it."

Seth hums softly, enjoying the feeling of being in Dean's embrace. "So, what do you wanna do now, Mr. Champion?"

"Kinda just wanna go home with you," Dean says, and Seth's never heard anything sound so good.

The next morning, Seth almost breaks the internet.

He takes a picture of his left hand, Dean's beneath it, resting against Dean's chest, a sliver of the front plate of the title belt edging its way into the frame, and he posts it to Instagram, Twitter, his Facebook, and he doesn't bother adding any text to it, letting the picture speak for itself.

It's all over the media outlets by lunchtime, and Seth can't help but laugh, grinning at the look on Dean's face as his phone continues to ring.

"You should probably get that," Seth says with a grin, laughing even harder at the murderous look Dean sends him.

"I'd rather take a chainsaw to the head again," Dean says, silencing his phone.

"Good thing you won't have to," Seth replies, "Mr. World Heavyweight Champion." Yeah, Seth's never going to get tired of calling him that, loving how smoothly it rolls off his tongue.

From the grin on Dean's face, he's never going to get tired of hearing it.

It's been quite a road to get to where they are, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, but they're better and stronger for it all.

Sometimes, love might not be enough, and sometimes, sometimes you get lucky and it's everything.

Seth and Dean, together, they'll always find a way.

One more time to say
I love you always
And keeping faith
Letting love find a way
-The Used, "Find A Way"