ONE NIGHT IN TAMPA

'They got a hotel by the water

And a quart of Bombay Gin.

The road goes on forever

And the party never ends'

(The Road Goes On Forever by Robert Earl Keen)

Dean Ambrose smiled wryly as he hummed under his breath. The hotel was by the water. But he hated gin. Understanding the need to perhaps curry favor with his brothers in this instance, however, he had a variety of beers chilling in the mini-fridge as well as a variety of snacks and non-alcoholic drinks on the small table in the corner of the room.

Ambrose glanced at his watch then took a deep breath. 'They'll be here soon.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth Rollins shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he took the exit the GPS suggested. As they left Tampa behind them and traveled towards the beach roads, the darkness closed around the two men in the car.

"You doin' okay?" Seth asked, shooting a glance at the man sitting in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Roman Reigns nodded. "You're the one who had a Wrestlemania match. Not me."

Seth almost flinched at the growl in Roman's voice. "I'm fine. It'll take more than Kevin Owens to put me down."

Roman sighed. "Sorry. I'm just frustrated."

Seth hummed in agreement. "It was an accident."

"I know," Roman nodded. He sighed again. "Just rough housing with my cousins. They didn't mean to give me a couple of broken ribs."

Seth glanced at his brother as the GPS advised a right hand turn at the next intersection. "You got a plan for them to make it up to you?"

"They're cleaning my pool the entire summer. First of May through the end of October."

"That's more than summer, Roman," Seth pointed out.

"It was Wrestlemania. Summer is when I say it is."

Seth snickered, then laughed out loud. "Poor USOs."

Roman grunted, but a smile played across his lips. "Any idea of how we're going to do this get-together?"

"Give Ambrose enough rope to hang himself? The shovel to dig his own grave?" Seth suggested.

Roman nodded in consideration as the GPS directed them to make a left turn at the second light.

"Jeez, could he have picked some place further off the beaten path?" Seth grumbled as he made the turn onto a two-lane road with few street lights. "We could've met at your house, you know."

"He wanted neutral territory," Roman explained. "And I didn't want any yelling in front of my kids."

Seth grunted in agreement of the second statement. "He chose the motel. How is that neutral territory?"

Roman shrugged in silence.

When they reached the motel, Seth realized it wasn't the worst place they'd ever stayed. But it was close.

Roman eyed the building. "You know, there was a time we would've considered this a four-star accommodation."

Seth snickered. "Maybe he's going the nostalgia route? What was the room number again?"

"Room 127." Roman glanced at the numbers on a few of the doors. "Bet it's around back."

"Of course," Seth sighed.

It was. And on the far end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean saw the headlights of a car as it was parked in front of his room. He heard the car engine being turned off and nervously wiped his hands on his jeans. Standing, he rolled his shoulders. When they were done, he knew Seth would drive Roman back to his house in Tampa. Seth would probably stay there or return to his own hotel room. He would've bet on Roman insisting on Seth staying the rest of the night.

For a few moments, he wished he could go with them. But all it would take was a whisper of him being seen with his brothers to screw up their current positions in the company. He was booked on a flight back to Las Vegas in the morning, but it would've been nice if…

He jerked as someone pounded on the door. Out of habit, he looked through the peephole before opening the door.

"You pick the loveliest places," Seth drawled as he walked past Dean and looked around the room.

"Fuck you, Messiah," Dean automatically replied. He looked at Roman then closed the door. "Sorry you missed, Wrestlemania, Roman."

Roman shrugged. "Braun and I'll have fun with the title belt. Although I wish I could've shown Goldberg what a spear actually looks like."

Seth snickered as he removed his jacket and threw it towards the head of the bed.

Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced to one side. He didn't see his brothers exchange a quick grin, recognizing he was trying to find a way to start.

"First things first," Seth spoke up. "Can we all agree that next year at Wrestlemania we just get together to have some fun? And not to settle any differences? Hmmm?"

"Sounds good to me," Roman nodded.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Especially since I'm the reason for a repeat performance this year." He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Things are…different in AEW. There aren't any scripts, and the wrestlers have a lot of input on the matches. So, when Jericho suggested the Inner Circle powerbomb me, I was fine with it. I suggested doing it off the stage."

"No problem with that," Roman growled. "The problem is what came after the powerbomb. THAT was a Shield stance. Hell, Dean! That was how we finished our last match together!"

Seth's dark eyes widened momentarily at Roman's angry statement. He knew Roman had buried some of his hurt and anger. His oldest brother had been totally serious about wanting to get the Shield back together before Dean left the company. It had meant more to him than to Seth. And possibly even more than it meant to Dean.

"You know, I wouldn't be so pissed off angry if they'd done the fist bump," Roman angrily continued. "Hell, I might have even chuckled about it in a couple of days and thought 'good one, Jericho'. But mimicking our fist bump only with middle fingers? What the hell, Ambrose? Who's fucking idea was that?"

"Sammy Guevara's." Dean took a deep breath and met Roman's eyes. "But I had the final approval on it."

Dean swore he could see lightning flash in Roman's eyes. He mentally pictured himself being beaten down by his older brother then dragged the 200 years to the beach and thrown into the Gulf of Mexico. And knew he wouldn't raise a hand in his own defense.

Instead, Roman threw open the door to the room and stomped outside, slamming the door behind him.

Surprised, Dean stared at the closed door.

"Beware the wrath of a patient man," Seth softly spoke as he sat on the end of the bed. "Roman's always been more patient with either of us than we deserve."

"Guess it's now your turn." Dean cautiously looked at his younger brother who also surprised him by shrugging.

Seth sighed. "Dean, what I've done was deliberate. I knew what I was doing. Right or wrong. What you did was something that's gotten out of hand. Yes, you screwed up. You should've known that it would be a problem for me and Roman. You should've told us so we were prepared and not caught off guard. Trust me, we both got a lot of looks and some questions about it."

"Thrown in your face, huh?" Dean guessed.

Seth nodded. "And like I once told Moxley. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Justice will be served on that score."

Dean rubbed his hands over his face.

"You screwed up. But it wasn't malicious or deliberate," Seth continued. "You just didn't think." When Dean started to speak, he held up his hand. "Don't explain it to me. Explain it to Roman. I was mad. He's mad and hurt."

Dean grimaced but silently nodded.

Seth sighed as Dean gently closed the door of the room behind him. He got to his feet and wandered over to the table where Dean had put drinks and snacks. He stared at the contents on the table then put his hands on his hips. "Oh, for God's sake, Ambrose. Seriously?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean could easily spot Roman standing on the beach under a full moon. He cautiously looked around, but no one else was on the beach. He slowly walked towards his older brother, still half-expecting to be thrown in to the Gulf. He stopped close to where his brother stood.

"I'm sorry."

Roman sighed at the softly spoken words. "I know you are. That's not the point."

Dean slowly stepped forward to stand at his brother's side. "You and Seth knew how frustrated I was before I left. But Renee was the only one who knew just how frustrated I really was. I knew you and Seth could catch hell after I left so I tried to tamp it down as much as I could in front of you."

Roman continued staring out at the water.

"I had all these ideas and thoughts about what to do," Dean continued. "It was like I'd been given the keys to the candy store. I just didn't think, Roman. That's all on me. It doesn't matter who came up with the idea. I was given the choice of going with it or shooting down the idea. It seemed…the thing to do after the powerbomb. For a year, all I've had to think about was how things affected me. Well, me and Renee. I knew you and Seth were out of the line of fire after a few months. I messed up big time. And I don't know how to fix it or what else to say."

Roman took a deep breath when Dean finished speaking. "I get it, Dean. I really do. And you weren't all that successful at hiding all that frustration as you thought you were. At least not to Seth and me." He hesitated, then continued. "Do you know what I thought when you showed up at that first AEW Pay-Per-View? After you dropped Jericho?" He saw Dean shake his head. "I thought how happy you looked. Then you went after Omega. And when you threw him off that stack of chips and stood there triumphant, I knew you were happy. You weren't putting on a game face or façade. You were genuinely happy."

"I was," Dean softly admitted. "I felt...free."

Roman nodded. "That's all I wanted for you. To be free and happy. That's all Seth wanted for you. And your other friends." He glanced down at the sand under his feet. "And I wondered if I couldn't have done something…anything with management to try and make things better for you."

"You couldn't have done anything, Roman," Dean protested. "They had me pigeon-holed. You know that."

"I know," Roman nodded. "Still wondered."

"Stop wondering," Dean ordered. He got in front of Roman and stared into his face. "There was nothing you could've done. Not even our Monday Night Messiah could've done anything."

Despite himself, Roman snorted in amusement.

"I'm sorry, Roman. I'll keep you and Seth in the loop."

Roman gently smiled at the serious look on Dean's face. "Apology accepted." He enfolded Dean in his arms and hugged him. His smile widened when Dean's arms slid around him, and he was hugged in return. "Just do me a favor. Well, two favors."

"Sure," Dean mumbled against Roman's chest.

"Keep that title for a while. And make Guevara pay for that idea."

"Done and done."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth was peeking through the keyhole wondering if he should go referee a fight between his brothers when he saw them walking across the parking lot. He could see both were smiling, and he relaxed. He was thankful he wouldn't have to resort to Plan B. He didn't like Plan B. In fact, Plan B sucked. Plan B was to knock his brothers' heads against each other until they saw reason.

He quickly moved across the room to stand next to the snack table. He folded his arms across his chest and was glaring when Dean opened the door. "What the hell, Ambrose?" he growled, ignoring his brothers' reddened eyes.

Dean looked at Roman in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he finally asked as Roman closed the door behind them.

"This!" Seth pointed at the snack table. "Chips. Cookies. Candy. Sodas. Not one damn healthy thing on the table!"

Roman started to smile then caught himself before Dean saw it.

Dean, however, knew Seth Rollins probably better than anyone else. He caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Seth eyes and shrugged as he approached the table. "Then go hungry." He reached for a bag of Doritos only to have his hand slapped away.

"Get your hands off my Doritos," Seth ordered.

Dean rolled his eyes and reached for a candy bar…only to have his hand slapped away again.

"And hands off the Reese's Cups. You know they're my favorite." Seth cradled a bag of Doritos and two packages of Reese's Cups protectively against his chest.

"Fuck you, Messiah," Dean grumbled, grabbing a bag of corn chips.

Roman sighed. "Do we have any beer?"

"Mini-fridge," Dean answered, glaring at Seth.

Roman opened the mini-fridge. "You guys want one?"

"Sure," Dean quickly answered.

"Can't," Seth sadly spoke. "I'm driving."

Roman glanced over his shoulder at Dean and raised an eyebrow.

"You could drink if you stayed here tonight," Dean slowly spoke.

Seth glanced at Roman who waved a bottle of beer in his youngest brother's direction.

"Give me the beer," Seth ordered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'In a hotel by the water

The Shield again became whole

Three brothers again united

Knitted together, body and soul.'

It had been a long time since all three of the Shield brothers had roomed together. Roman lay sleeping in one bed, neither of his brothers wanting to aggravate Roman's broken ribs by sleeping in the same bed with him. Dean studied him for a minute, then relaxed, assured by Roman's even breathing.

Then he glanced down at Seth who was lightly snoring next to him. Then he quietly snorted in amusement. 'Monday Night Messiah, my ass.' Still, he admitted it was a role that Seth seemed to relish and shrugged. 'As long as he's having fun with it.'

Dean's blue eyes flickered from one of his brothers to the other. 'I'll be a better brother to both of you,' he silently promised. Then he glanced down at the phone in his hand and re-read the text from his wife with a grin.

'Did you guys fight it out or make it up before they left?'

Dean once again looked at both his brothers then texted a reply.

'Made up. And they didn't leave. My brothers stayed with me.'