Dean Ambrose #52

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Momentum carried me down the corridor to where he sat. His head was in his hands, blood trickling along his limbs.

"Dean," I whispered, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Are you alright sweetie?"

"I will be, just a bit of blood." I grabbed a tissue from out of my pocket, wiping away at a few of the heavy droplets.

His stubbornness was often a fault of his, refusing any assistance. "Do you want to go to the medics? Just make sure that it's as minor as you think?"

"I'm not stupid, I don't need anyone's help or diagnosis."

The sharp tone of his voice made me jump. It wasn't his fault, I understood he was mad, but that didn't excuse taking it out on me.

"Just let me help you babe, at least tidy you up a bit, fresh clothes, maybe a shower?"

He nodded, slowly rising to his feet. It was only once he stood did I realise the actual state he was in.

"Are you in much pain?" I asked, wrapping my arm around his back to guide him down the corridor.

"You're making it heal princess," he replied, lacing his fingers in with my own, "you don't need to worry about me."

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