Notes: Ship: Ambrollins. Inspired by "Follow you" by Bring Me The Horizon. Enjoy!
For months now, the future had been the past. Unable to reclaim his title, Seth Rollins finally lost the last thing that he had banked on – the support of the authority. Tired of "The useless Ex-Champ", as he was known now, they had booked him in what would in all likelihood be his last match. Lose and he'd have to leave WWE behind forever. Against Triple H, of course. Could the odds be any worse? But what was there to be done, except go down fighting?
He can't get the strings of his wristbands to hold tight and so he ties and unties them over and over again, until a shadow falls on him. He looks up, and familiar blue eyes stared back at him. Wordless, Dean takes hold of the strings and ties them perfectly. "Nice choice, the white outfit. Very martyr." There is no venom in his voice, only faint, tired amusement.
"If you came to gloat, you're doing it wrong" Seth whispers. "Why would I gloat?" Dean asks with infuriating innocence. Seth rolls his eyes. "You got your championship, and you're almost rid of me. And why else would you come? Fucking me in the time until the match starts would be ambitious, even for you." Dean grins, and shrugs, but doesn't answer.
"You know they won't play fair?" he asks instead. "Probably," Seth admits. "Not that I can do much about it." "No Plan B?" Seth shakes his head. Who should he ask, after all?
"But you know where you are going if you lose, right?" Seth nods. There are options. Just nothing like this. Ever. "So, tell me?" "Why?" "Because I want to know where I'll toss my championship into a trash can."
Seth waits for the words to make sense, but they just don't. "I'll be here and catch anyone who tries to get to the ring from this side," Dean informs him. "Ro is doing the same at the other entrance. Rest is up to you. You can do it. But if not… well, I always really wanted to throw away a championship belt." He grins broadly, and Seth feels warm hands on his shoulders, stroking away the wet strands of hair. "And I can't beat you up, or gloat, or fuck you in the store rooms if we are not in the same company," he adds softly.
Seth can't stand his gaze, looks down. Dean is actually wearing the stupid belt. "I betrayed you," he says hoarsely. "I put your head through cinderblocks. Why…" Dean puts his hands under Seth's chin, tilts his head back up, meets his eyes. "If you don't know that by now, it won't help if I spell it out." The kiss on Seth's lips is so soft that it seems not quite real. "Good luck," Dean whispers, and then he is gone, hidden somewhere in the curtains, ready to strike. "Thank you," Seth whispers back. His music hits. Showtime.