One

No one wanted to know him.

No one cared.

No one saw him.

Everyone walked by him instead.

To them, he was just another face among the sea of people living in this small, forsaken town. To say his life was ordinary would be a lie. His was a life that was deemed common by the folks: mother was a drunk, dad was a junkie.

Familiar plot of any angst filled story.

He got beaten up by both; always the same old tune… the same old song.

The scars he had gotten were his battle wounds; ones he wore with pride. He had survived the war but like most soldiers, the trauma he had suffered as a result of it, haunted him.

Nightmares after nightmares. Lashes after lashes.

Marks he had even inflicted on himself because the pain erased the other ones that were affecting him in his head. Affected him so bad that he had suspicions and tag pinned on everyone he met.

As he grew up, he was subjected to disgrace and humiliation for little to no reasons at all: teachers would throw his assignments to his face, the popular kids would beat him up before or after school; sometimes both.

He never made it to college much less graduated high school. Stupid kid they had said. And for a while that was all he was convinced he was.

Never saw the old woman or the old man again after that last beating on the last day of summer vacation. Found a job repairing cars instead; was okay and paid him enough to rent a small, dingy room in the basement of his boss' sister's home.

For extra money, he whored himself at a seedy hotel in the red light district of town. Sometimes it was twice every week, sometimes twice a month.

That was what life had become for him.

Then he had found out about the old man's passing in his twenty eighth year; didn't care but felt obligated to attend the funeral instead.

The old woman was not present. Probably OD'd somewhere in town.

Or didn't care at all.

Today would have marked four years since the old man had left this earth with no knowledge of the lives he had ruined. Instead of feeling joy that the monster who had tortured him was gone, he felt empty.

Not even anger running through his veins.

Just… hollow.

His boss had insisted that he took the day off to pay respects.

So he went to the nearest mart, bought a bottle of Jack and made his way to the cemetery as thunder boomed. Upon finding the headstone, he took out the bottle, and raised it before taking a long swig.

How's that for respect?

"Roman, you really need to get out more. I get you love your job but jeez… being around sick people will make you sick."

Roman Reigns laughed hard as he pushed his chair aside as he grabbed his mug of coffee. "It's not so bad," he chuckled to his colleague, Karl. "Besides, I don't have much to do at home. I was going to leave a flower for Baxter on my way back."

"Why don't you get another dog?"

"Maybe next time. I'm not in a hurry. Besides with the way we've been scheduled here lately, I think I can afford to wait a little longer."

Though today would mark the start of his week long vacation. Had to be forced into taking this by his boss.

"Maybe today will be your lucky day," Karl commented. "Maybe today you can finally catch the person who's been leaving him those roses."

Roman fervently hoped so. He always wanted to thank the kind soul who left those red roses for the past three years. He always wondered who the person was and somehow, he always missed catching them.

Clearly luck wasn't on his side.

With a sigh, the grey eyed man dumped his plastic cup into the container near the cleaning station and left the cafeteria with Karl on his trail. "So what shift are you on tomorrow?"

Karl rolled his eyes as they made their way to the locker room. "Graveyard. No pun intended since that's where you're headed."

Roman grinned. "You're so cheesy, Karl."

"And you need to go out more. Why didn't you go out with that guy I tried to set you up with?"

"I'm not interested. He's nice and all but there wasn't a spark."

"A spark? Roman, there is no such thing, okay? When I met my hot Asian wife-"

"Who I have yet to meet," Roman cut him off.

"You'll meet her someday."

"Someday better be soon. My birthday's coming up and I want my friends with me when I celebrate it."

"That's in five days!"

"Karl, I gave you a head's up a month ago. I even sent you a FB invite."

Karl sighed. "I'll figure something out."

The cemetery was empty by the time Roman arrived an hour later that morning, a daisy in his hand.

Every year, without fail, he'd come here to lay flowers for his beloved Baxter, his companion for thirteen years. His Jack Russell had fought cancer valiantly but unfortunately the disease was far too strong.

When he got closer to Baxter's grave, he was surprised to find an auburn haired man dressed in a black leather jacket and white t-shirt with denim jeans lying beside the tombstone.

Roman looked around and found no one in sight.

Was the man alive or-

Kneeling down, the Samoan man pressed his fingers against the man's pulse point near his carotid. When he felt the beat, he exhaled with relief.

There was a three quarter empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the man's right hand. Well, that'd explained a lot.

Tapping on the man's shoulder lightly, he looked at Baxter's tombstone and found a red rose lying in front.

Roman's heart skipped a beat.

Could it be…?

"Hey," he said softly, tapping him again. "Sir…"

The man barely moved; he was out cold.

Placing the daisy next to the rose and kissing the tombstone, Roman removed the Jack Daniels bottle from the auburn haired man and fireman carried him. "Take care, Baxter. Papa misses you."

Slowly, the Samoan man walked with his newfound companion to his sedan where he placed him on the passenger seat at the back, buckling him safely. Perhaps he ought to bring him home first and nurse him back to health?

Karl was onto something, Roman decided; he needed to get out more. He was even doing his duties outside of his hours.

But surely he couldn't leave the poor man lying about in the cemetery either.

Making sure the stranger was strapped in securely one more time, Roman slammed the door shut before getting into the driver's seat.

What a way to start Monday morning.

He was lying down on something soft.

Was he on a fluffy cloud? In paradise? Did he even deserve paradise? Certainly he had a spot reserved for him in hell by now.

Straining to open his eyes, he found himself tucked in bed with a blue and white floral blanket in a room with warm brown walls and wooden furniture. The blinds were drawn down to avoid the sun ray from shining on his face directly.

This wasn't the cemetery.

This wasn't his room either so where the hell was he?

Swinging his legs over slowly, he made his way out of there walking out only to find a beautiful man - the word didn't do him justice - sleeping on a dark brown leather couch. His long black tresses were fanned on a part of his face. That well manicured moustache and beard made him look yummy and that body… this man was beautifully toned with a tribal right arm sleeve tattoo that extended to half of his chest and he was clearly proud of it or he would not have been lying there half naked.

Who was he and why would he bring such a lowlife like him into his home?

Fuck.

The pounding on his head was getting worse. He needed to get out of here to get some medication-

Suddenly Beauty was awake and grey eyes were now staring into blue ones.

For some reason, this time, there was no tags to pin on or suspicion. There seemed to be something different about this one…

And when Beauty's warm smile spread across his face, he knew he was in trouble. This one could tear down the walls he had built around him.

"You're awake," Beauty said, slowly sitting up. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," he managed against his better judgment. Needed to thank this wonderful soul and get out of his life forever-

"I found you asleep near my dog's grave and I couldn't bear to leave you by yourself."

"Should have. I'm used to it."

"Sleeping near dog graves?" Beauty said.

He would have took offence to that but Beauty's smile told him that he was teasing him good naturedly.

Teasing him.

Who was this angel?

"People leaving me," he corrected him.

Immediately Beauty looked remorseful. "I'm sorry to hear that. No one should have to go through that."

"You just met me."

"But I don't have to know you to feel like that. You're human and you have feelings like anyone else."

Beauty was too generous with his compliments; at this point in his life, he had stopped feeling human.

"Would you like something to drink? You must be having a headache. Don't worry; I have just the thing."

Before he could stop him, Beauty was up and moving to the kitchen, grabbing something from the medicine compartment in his cabinet. "You don't have to-"

"I insist." Beauty handed him a painkiller before passing him a bottled water.

This man was a savior.

"Don't worry," Beauty assured him. "It'll help. Trust me. I'm a nurse."

And a Florence Nightingale apparently too. "Thank you." He quickly washed it down so that he could get out of this angel's hair.

"No mention. I'm sure you would have done the same for anyone."

No he wouldn't but for some reason, he couldn't bear to let Beauty down.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I forgot to give you my name." Beauty extended his hand to him. "I'm Roman."

Roman. What a solid name for this gorgeous man with a heart of gold and a smile radiating sunshine and warmth. "Dean."

"Well, Dean, I hope you're hungry because I'm making lunch."

"Oh, I don't want to impose-"

"I insist." Roman's hand covered over his. "Stay."

"I… Okay." Roman made it hard for him to say no especially with such an earnest look; as if Dean mattered.

As if Dean was worth caring for.

A/N So this is a four to ten parter (I'm pretty sure it'll be ten but I can't be too sure) that I promised a friend. Also it's my birthday so this is for anyone's that supported me in any way! Thank you!