Dean Ambrose - One Shots

Late Night

It's late at night. You couldn't sleep so you decided to go to the hotel's gym for a while, blow off some steam, hoping that maybe after sleep would hit you. Once you get there, no one's there, so you decide to run first, then do some weights. You had just stopped running, when a voice snapped you out of your thoughts, scaring you to death.

"Hey (y/n)." Dean greets, his voice echoing in the empty gym. "What are you doing here so late at night?"

"Couldn't sleep." You mumble, drying off your sweat with your towel. "You?"

"Same as you." He replies, gazing around the room.

You and Dean settled for the same exercise, doing it one at a time. Right about your third time, Dean was watching you intently. You noticed it but kept lifting the weights anyway. You finish your rep, but he's still lost in thought, doesn't even snap out of it and go for his turn.

"Hey! Dean!" You snap your fingers in front his face, as he refocuses his attention and his mind on what you were doing.

"I- Uh, I'm sorry, I was distracted." He mumbles, scratching the back of his head in awkwardness.

"I noticed that, thank you very much." You smirk, lightly shoving his shoulder. "C'mon, it's your turn."

"Uh... Can I- Can I ask you something?" He questions, tapping his collarbones with his fingers. He's an awkward man.

"Sure, hit me." You reply, nonchalantly as you take a sip of your water.

"Why don't you... uh, never wrestle in a ring gear like the other girls?" He asks, softly, as if trying to test waters, and you shoot him a confused look. "I mean, like in a sports bra... you're always wearing a shirt."

"Oh..." You exhale in nervousness. Now you get what he meant.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to intrude... Or to offend you, I was just... curious." He rapidly explains himself, hoping you're not mad at him.

"I... well, it's okay. Don't worry." You reply, giving him a small and nervous smile. "I just... there's things I'd rather not show."

"What things?" He pressures softly, as you and him sit down on the floor, your backs pressed against the cold concrete walls.

"I'm just... not like the other girls." You sigh softly, feeling your self-esteem being assaulted with bricks.

"It has not escaped my attention." He smiles gently, your gazes locking together. You were about to take it badly, but the look on his eyes told you otherwise.

"I have stretch marks." You let out in one breath. He looks at you in confusion, but urging you to continue. "I have stretch mark on my stomach... and they're really prominent."

"I bet it's no big deal, really. Your stomach is super flat." He shrugs it off, smiling.

"Well, that doesn't mean I don't have stretch marks." You mumble, averting your gaze from his.

"Show me, then. I want proof." He says simply, and nonchalantly. First, you look at him in disbelief. But then, you comply, and pull your shirt slightly up, giving him full sight on your stomach. "It's barely perceptible, (y/n), honestly. I saw them, because I was looking for it specifically."

"They're still there..." You say, your voice small, silently doubting his words.

"So what? We all have scars. They're a part of who we are, of what made us... us. They mark what we've been through in our life. Our imperfections. But they also show our courage, our strength." He sighs softly, his gaze focused on his hands. "I have scars myself. See?" He admits, showing you a couple of his scars, and damn, some were big, and yet, you never had noticed them. He notices the look on your face, and smiles softly. "You haven't noticed them before, have you? They're very perceptible to me, but not to you." He says, clearly stating his point. "You shouldn't be ashamed of who you are... of how you are."

"Dean, I..." You try and speak, but the words don't come out. You're honestly astonished and caught on surprise with his reaction and his own words. Even more surprisingly, he pulls you into a tight, soothing hug. "Thank you, Dean. Really."

"You're an amazing girl, (y/n), really. And you're beautiful.... God, you're beautiful." He lets out a breath that seemed to being stuck inside for a while, and is back to the weird rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not saying this to make you happy, I'm saying this because it really is what I think. Believe me. I don't usually say this type of things. But you... You deserve to hear it."

You let out a chuckle. A happy... confused one. He sends you a questioning look, not realizing what he had said that was funny.

"All this time... I thought you hated me."

"I don't. I never did." He replies right away, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

"Good." You whisper, locking your gaze with his shyly.

"After late night conversations, what about a late night snack?" He offers, smiling as he gets up and sticks out his hand for you. You take it, smiling back.

"Yes, please."