*// DIRT CHEAP

this anger tasted different.  summoned up from somewhere deep enough that it came unnamed.  unweathered and  QUIET.  reserved because his options were limited and despite an awareness that he’d have gone tip - to - tip with a beast  one - armed  for the mess on the screen;  dean knew it’d not happen tonight.  not under bright lights.  not in the dimmed garage outside of the stadium.  hands proverbially tied  ( if the boss had any shred of sense, that’d turn literal ),  he sat, waiting, instead.  stewing.  s e e t h i n g.  breathed life into a contempt he’d not felt in months —— the reminder why he’d kept his distance.  passion wasn’t so easily unseated.

and neither was he.

not when the camera crew faded in and out of the room.  not when the mics started coming, one after another.  they’d not get their reels from him —— met with a silence only the occasional smack of gum could interrupt.  his lingering wasn’t for  them.  he didn’t feed off of unwarranted attention.  didn’t play that game.

like he didn’t chase down a bloodied hound the second the commotion started.  a flock of vulture gathered to pick away at a carcass.  by the look of him in the short - lived glances dean’d bothered to shoot, it wasn’t far from the truth.  like he’d been hit by a semi and dragged for miles.  gone nine - rounds with ali.  still standing, whether it was from pride or a wilting will that’d only last so long . . .  it didn’t matter.  wasn’t his concern.  blood wouldn’t be unbled for his rush to coddle or console.  wouldn’t change the outcome he was aware enough to remember the taste of.  a  LOSS  that still tainted his thoughts.  strung them out, wild and uncoordinated.

just as quick as the ruckus had come, it’d gone.  faded back into the staticed white noise he’d come to learn the comfort of.  a nothingness to sink his teeth into while he waited.  moved to a locker room he’d not been invited to.  sat, slouched, in a chair that wasn’t his.  rifled through a bag that wasn’t, as well.  sought out the pack of gum he knew he’d find in the front pocket before helping himself.  call it support.  call it  concern.  his taxi’d been dismissed for whatever  this  was going to be.  an ill - advised surprise.  nothing to make up for the missed calls and texts ignored in the dozens.  too busy staring up at the sky to pretend he had something to say.

slouched down, head back, eyes closed for the wait —— roman’d not been holed up getting pieced back together long enough for dean to doze.  door parting with a creak that cracked eyes and sent a pale stare, cornered, to watch his entrance.  staggered.  as cleaned up as he’d let them get him before, he speculated, deciding he was done.  deciding that licking his wounds in private would serve him better.  thought he’d find a solace dean sat perched atop the corpse of, already.

“  ‘ey uce.  ”     as casual as the arm tucked behind his head, entertaining nonchalance.     “  ain’t you lookin’ like a butcher’s wet dream.  ”

the chances of homeboy making an appearance are small but that doesn’t mean i’m not going to shove him backstage for everyone to have to deal with.  these starters will be shortish and for muses with matches on the card  ONLY,  with few exceptions  ( shoot me an im if you want to plot something relating to this ).  because i’ve gotta have something to play off of.  i’m not that original, otherwise.  if you liked my previous s.c. that one still applies, but not for this.  MULTI - MUSES SPECIFY  or you’ll be overlooked.  these will include post - takeover, raw && smackdown as well.  

Repost and fill in the answers you most associate your character with to each question.

        1. ANIMAL:   sun bear.         2. COLOR(S):   black  &&  red.         3. MONTH:    july.         4. SONG:   throat full of glass.         5. NUMBER:   7.         6. DAY OR NIGHT:   night.         7. PLANT:   corpse  lily.         8. SMELL:   leather.         9. STONE:   granite.         10.SEASON:   summer.         11. PLACE:   mesa.         12. FOOD:   potatoes.         13. ASTROLOGICAL SIGN:  sagittarius.         14. ELEMENT(S):   earth.         15. DRINK:   whiskey.

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to my muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based off circumstance  /  based off professional matters  /  based off misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based off circumstance  /  based off professional matters  /  based off misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

                                      [  imessage,  gutter  rat.  ] sent:  close  enough. sent:  how  do  you  think? sent:  you’d  forget  your  head  if  it  weren’t  attached. sent:  no,  i  am  not  coming  onto  you.   sent:  you’re  the  one  who  sent  /me/  a  picture  of  your  dick.  

                              it  was  as  he  spoke  again  that  she  stepped  forward,  leaving  little  to  NO  space  between  the  two  of  them,  &&  whilst  he  had  a  few  inches  on  her,   INTIMIDATION,  that  was  her  forte,  dark  gaze  igniting  with  ANGER  'pon  his  every  word,  well,  she  was  utmost  certain  that  she  could  bring  anyone  to  their  KNEES  with  that  look. ❝   you  sure  you  wanna  play  this  GAME,  ambrose  ??   you  sure  you’re  BRAVE  enough  ??  ❞  her  owns  words,  when  they  came  were  HUSHED,  barely  above  a  HARSH  whisper  so  that  he  was  the  ONLY  one  that  would  be  able  to  hear  them.  &&  all  of  this  DESPITE THE  FACT  that  she  knew  exactly  what  he  was  doing,  but  anger  was  where  she  felt COMFORTABLE  &&  if  that’s  where  he  wanted  her,  then  who  was  she  to  DENY  him  that ??  she  just  hoped  he  KNEW  what  he  was  getting  himself  in  for.

“  bravery ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with  THIS,  sweetheart.  ”     stupidity, maybe.  that death wish he’d been trying to cash in on since he’d been pushed out the womb.  an open invitation to show she’d not rusted over in her time off.  crack his teeth on the heel of her boot.  anything to harness that  rush  that his own benching had stolen from his life.  turned the world grey and matte.  nothing to focus on beside the next session with a trainer he’d long since started wanting to bite in the face.  a guy who oozed the brand of positivity that’d have made the new day cringe for the showing.  spitting the same rehearsed diatribe every week.  day in.  day out.  dean’s antagonizing wasn’t for tamina’s benefit alone.

leant into her threat, pale stare a’sparkle with invitation,     “  wazzamatter ?  ”     another jab.  the lip caught between his teeth.  dean wasn’t above begging.  short of prostrating himself at her feet, digging for a mercy that wasn’t there —— this would do.

“  you tryin’a tell me what i can an’ can’t do, DOLL ?  ”     courtesy and common sense were the right words.  no title for what they were didn’t mean they weren’t  something  and playing with a person’s feelings . . .  he’d been beaten bloody for worse.  spat out a tooth once because of it.  tongue prodding the slot and its empty socket as a reminder, his grin came no crookeder than the intent tacked onto its edges.     “  y’ worried i’mma run off chasin’ the first pair’a long legs i see ?  ”     a mutt with a nose for blondes —— proven time and time again.  but self - control, when desired, had a way of stock - piling.  keeping him far enough from the calamity he thirsted after.  secure.  d o c i l e.

for all of tamina’s looming, he hadn’t flinched the once.

❝ ’m NOT stressin’, do i look like ‘m stressin’? DON’T answer d’at. ❞ she didn’t even believe herself, what chance did she have to fool HIM? well now she just felt pathetic.  ❝ NO stressin’ here. i got nothin’ t’ be stressin’ over, yea’?  everythin’ is good, great, GRAND even – totally NOT stressin’. ❞ it sounds WORSE the more she goes on and she’s forced to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from going. a deep breath is taken, meant to CALM and it does. somewhat, not enough. ❝ ’m FINE. no stress. ya’ aren’t helpin’… ❞

there were several openings to save her from the hole she was digging deeper.  ample opportunities to throw the lifeline and  DRAG  becky back to the safety of his understanding.  but as sure as that’d have helped, stood in wait, his grin broad and laughter rumbling rattlesnaked somewhere in the recess of his throat —— dean liked this better.  the unrest.  the sweat stippling to life at her temples.  as disheveled as he knew her to get when fists weren’t  tight  off of a brawl and the only fight she had to wage was one with herself.  one that, by the looks of her, she was poised to  LOSE  as well.

“  naaahhh...  you ?  stressed ?  ain’t ever seen a dame more relaxed in all’a my days,  ”     mockery worn like a second skin, tight to his bones, sounding off like a war drum that begged for some measure of retribution.  dean’s offering.  the distraction he knew she needed.  the whetstone to sharpen her focus against.     “  you get any  MORE  not - stressed an’ you’re liable t’ put me t’ sleep.  ”

wound up as the air around him was, churning into a whirlpool that licked riptide at his ankles —— dean’d no sooner managed that than he could tear himself from the show.  a plane crash with few survivors.  fire rampant.  screams deafening and the smell of gasoline perfuming the skies.  it’s what he  asked  for.  to his marrow, what he  CRAVED.  starved of everything else, stomach hollow and groaning for her . . .  he’d have lied and said anyone would do, but, her fluster mounting, swelling up around her, it’d always been becky.  she only, really, had herself to blame for his needling.

“  you fixin’ t’ tell ol’ deano what’s got y’ red hot or is this the part where i start guessing?  cause i’mma say they must’a run out of taquitos in catering, if it is.  not my fault by the way.  ”

                                        [  imessage,  gutter  rat.  ] sent:  the  fact  that  you  can’t  remember  who  i  am  nor  the  fact  that  you  sent  me  a  poorly  lit  picture  of  yourself  is  disturbing. sent:  my  last  name  is  royce.  as  in  peyton  royce. sent:  we  work  for  the  same  bloody  company.   sent:  the  last  time  i  saw  you,  you  tried  to  get  me  to  give  you  my  phone  to  show  me  a  meat  flower.

She wasn’t going to lie, had never had it in her to be anything but upfront. Watching wandering eyes ignited a frustration in her that always bubbled just below the surface, jealousy was a dangerous thing as far as she was concerned, they both knew that. Initially, her primary intentions with him were just the same as they were with every other man she came across – let him in close and then destroy everything that made him who he was. The fact that Circe felt something resembling a personal attachment was worrying.

Any other person, object of her seduction and she wouldn’t have been so fazed. But this, whatever it was, had been going on for a lot longer than she had initially intended and it was growing difficult to tamper down the green-eyed monster. “Then look at me,” her voice was firm, determined to keep his attention on her and nobody else. If his eyes were capable of wandering, then she was losing her touch. Her ego couldn’t take it, that she wasn’t the most beautiful person in the room and part of her wanted scream for the attention she believed that she was warranted. A hand rested on his arm and she took a step closer – she knew exactly what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

“Would you like it if I looked at someone else like that?”

This was something he’d always considered himself good at.  Up until Rollins  ( that chicken weasel )  had proven him wrong.  Reading people.  Unearthing their intentions.  Seeing who was a danger and who was only trying to soothe some unspoken thing inside of them.  Circe?  She was a bit of both.  Nurturing a wounded pride from long before he’d circled in upon her.  Trying to wrap him around her little finger towards an end Dean couldn’t make out, though not for a lack of squinting at it.  Fed through a pin-hole line, working quiet and quick —— someone less intuitive wouldn’t have had a chance.  And that’s why he lingered under a soft touch, brow raised and the smack of his gum prolonged.  Seeing where she’d take it.

Looking wasn’t anything new.  Not when it came to her or anyone else.  Leant back enough for a generous sweep before the question posed what was liable to’ve been an intentionally provoking question.  Would he like it?  Probably not.  Some primal voice angrily testifying that she’d only have done it out of spite regardless.  That Dean had to stall for consideration, though...  He wasn’t a hormonal teenage boy.  He wasn’t fearful of losing what was his.  Roaming eyes would never do that.  It was what’d inevitably follow that would cause issue.