Dean silently looked down at the phone in his hand. The screen displayed Call Ended, flashing numbers to indicate the length of time the call had been.
Roman poked his head into Dean's room, shaking his hair out of its tight bun."Hey Dean, they're calling for y-"
Dean interrupted Roman with a shout of "Fuck off!", cupping his phone in his palm and slamming his hand into the wall over and over. The screen shattered with the first hit and he just kept going, pulverizing it like he had a grudge.
"Jesus Christ Uce." Roman sighed over the off-tempo thumps, "What, the Chinese place doesn't deliver later tonight when we'll actually be hungry?" His brow furrowed when a quiet sniffle escaped his 'brother', the other man hanging his head and slumping against the wall. "Dean? Hey, you okay?"
"I'm good, I'm good." Dean said shakily, but he continued to slide down the wall until he sat on the floor. He opened his hand and carelessly dropped whatever was left of his phone next to him.
"Dean what happened?" Roman asked, grabbing the sleeve of Ambrose's sweatshirt (technically Roman's sweatshirt Dean reminded himself absently) and hauling him back up. "Your match against Bray is in a minute, Uce. Are you good to fight, because if you're not I..." Roman's words died in his throat when Dean leveled him with an angry look.
"I am always good to fight. I'm fucking ready for this shit, Reigns." he growled, dusting off his hands quickly. "Let's go."
Bray had him on the defensive for most of the match. Dean could feel the frustration bubbling hot in his chest as he hit the canvas again and again, continuing to get back up and fight even harder.
"You seem distracted tonight, Lunatic." Bray grinned, leaning almost casually against the ropes in his corner.
Dean snarled at him, but all it did was make Bray laugh. "Somethin' funny, Buzzard Breath?" Ambrose snapped.
"How's your lady doing, Crazy?" Bray asked, stroking his beard in mock thought.
Everything in Dean's body came to a momentary halt. "I-" Dean swallowed hard, dimly hearing Roman screaming at him from the sidelines.
"What are you doing, Ambrose?!"
"What am I doing?" Dean muttered under his breath. "Letting this fucker get in the asylum that's what I'm doing. Christ. Amateur." Raising his voice, he yelled, "Vacate the premises, scumbag!" Ambrose rapped his knuckles on the side of his head. "There's only room for one basket case in here, and he ain't sharing head space!"
"I've got a sneaking suspicion that you're already rentin' out your cranium, am I right?" Bray sneered at the other man, "You're a fucking mess Ambrose, you sloppy sack of shit!"
"Well, flattery will get you everywhere." Dean jibed, making Bray laugh.
"This is why I like you, Headcase. Humor!"
Dean lashed out and caught Bray in a headlock, the other man's jaw snapping shut with a loud 'clack!'. "Now I'd like you to listen real close, understand?" Dean murmured calmly in Bray's ear, watching the way the muscles in his own arm flexed and coiled against Bray's throat. "I'm about to have a hell of a bad night. And you're about to share it with me. So I hope you brought your big boy one-strap overalls, you backwoods fuck."
Bray's chuckle was a wheeze against Dean's arm, but it was still there. Dean bristled, releasing the other man and quickly squaring up.
He didn't expect the hysterical cackle that exploded out of Bray.
"Oh, I see! I see it all now!" The bearded man snickered. "It's so clear to me!" He turned his back to Dean, who looked on in bewilderment as Bray sauntered around the edge of the ring.
"What are you waiting for, Dean?!" Roman's voice cut through Dean's confusion, and the 'Lunatic Fringe' shook his head, irritated with himself.
I can't let what happened earlier get to me. Focus!
Bray's hand rose and a finger pointed at Reigns. Reigns looked comically annoyed. "Not even your light is enough to snuff out the darkness of this man's mind, my little firefly." he grinned, "You're at best a distraction and...at worst a liability."
Harper melted out of the crowd directly behind Reigns, and Dean's eyes widened. "ROMAN!" he yelled, running to slide under the ropes.
Bray latched onto his leg and Dean thrashed wildly, swinging at Bray's head as the other man hauled him back into the ring. "No no no!" Ambrose raged, the frustration that had been building up in him all night finally erupting. He gnashed his teeth at Bray's hand, missing by fractions of an inch.
"I just don't feel the same anymore. And I know it's stupid of me to do this over the phone, Dean, so don't say it."
"I thought we were..."
"Whatever you thought is your own issue. You need help, Dean. And I can't give it to you. So I'm making this as painless as possible for me. I'm sure someday you'll understand. I know you'll pull through this okay, so don't make it an issue."
"Don't I get a fucking say in this, darlin'?"
"See, you're already upset-"
"Of course I'm fucking upset, you're telling me four fucking years of my life aren't worth shit! Was I ever worth any fucking thing to you, doll? Or was I just your fucking meal ticket?"
"Dean please. I didn't want this to be difficult."
"That makes one of us, because every fucking thing I do is difficult. Especially when I've got people leading me around by the damn nose, stringing me along like a goddamn fucking idiot. Did you ever...you know what. Forget it. It doesn't really matter, does it?"
Dean screamed wordlessly, his skin abruptly feeling too small and hot. Something in his brain, the side he tried to not let out to play too often, was hollering for blood and he would be damned if he kept it waiting.
He tore his shirt off in frantic pieces while Bray's grip on his leg stayed rock-solid. Dean slammed his other boot into Bray's chin, finally escaping his grasp. Dean was back to his feet in an instant, frenzied blows landing with no real coordination.
At some point Dean had started crying. He only noticed when he smashed his forehead into Bray's, knocking the other man flat . Dean reeled from the blow, blood dribbling down from his split forehead and stinging his eyes. He blinked painfully, scanning the crowd for Roman and Luke. A huge, open palm caught him around his neck, tossing him into the ropes like a rag doll.
Bray put a hand on Luke's shoulder, and the larger man leaned down so Bray could whisper in his ear. The smile that crept across Luke's face would have made Dean queasy, but the headbutt he'd delivered had already satisfied his brain damage quota for the night. Dean retched, blood and salt in his mouth leaving a bitter copper taste.
"Fuck you." he rasped. "Fuck you, fuck your games, fuck your bigass hillbilly sidekicks, fuck you!" Dean shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. Bray's arm wrapped around his throat, dragging him back into the middle of the canvas.
"Little Dean, little Dean. You certainly are the craziest of my fireflies, aren't you?" Bray crooned in his ear as Dean struggled against him. "Where is your Roman? Where is your precious savior, your I can I will, knight in shining armor?"
"Fuck-" Dean choked, clawing at Bray's hold on him. He was going to Sister Abigail him and it was going to hurt like a bitch and there was nothing he could do-
"Where's your Superman now, hmm?" Bray's beard brushed against Dean's ear. The 'Lunatic' grabbed a handful of the other man's facial hair and pulled with all his might.
Bray released Ambrose, shrieking in pain and taking a step back. Harper caught Dean with a clothesline, flooring him easily. But Dean rolled back to his feet, baring his teeth and slavering a little as what limited control he did have slipped away.
He lunged for Harper's legs, tackling the man. Luke tumbled to the canvas, scrambling to get out from underneath the rapidly-deteriorating Ambrose. Dean was having none of it though, hauling himself along with Luke and raining blows on the man's upper body. "You wanna fuck with me? Huh?!"
The Universe volume increased abruptly and Dean looked up, catching a right hand to the jaw from Bray that rattled his brain. He was thrown off Luke and he slid to a stop, mat spinning and tilting wildly under him as he pulled himself back up by the ropes.
Not good.
Dean splayed his legs in an attempt to stay upright while he fought with a ripper of a headache telling him to just lay down. Someone was on the ropes behind him and a hand snagged his wrist, making him flinch.
"Gotcha' Uce." Reigns' voice was calm, "Sorry I'm late."
"I thought Harper DDT'ed your ass." Dean rasped, turning his head to look at his friend.
Roman seemed a little worse for the wear. Gray t-shirt stretched out around the neck, blood from a cut on the bridge of his nose making its way down to blot the fabric. His knuckles were already scraped. It looked like Luke had given him a run for his money.
"Shit." Dean swore, shaking free of Roman's grip. "Stay out man, I got this."
"Like hell you do." Reigns grunted, climbing through the ropes. "What kind of brother would I be if I only took part of your beating?" he joked easily.
You asshole. Dean smiled in spite of himself, "You wish you could!"
"Let's waste this catastrophic cluster, what do you say?" Roman held out his fist, and Dean bumped his own against it.
"Oh my. Oh my goodness gracious." Bray giggled from across the ring. "Look at you two. Brothers in everything but blood. When's the wedding, my little fireflies?"
"Who do you want?" Reigns asked, leaning against the ropes while Bray continued to have some kind of breakdown.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Gimme Bray. I'll help you with Harper when I'm finished."
"You mean I'll help you with Bray when I'm finished?"
"Whatever lets you feel better, Reigns!"
Roman huffed, shooting his friend a wry grin before letting out a fierce war cry and immediately hitting Luke with a Spear. Harper was bowled over by the tattooed man, the two of them moving to trade punches in a heap on the ground outside the ring.
Ambrose and Bray circled around each other, making swipes and feints in an attempt to throw one another off balance. "Give up, Lunatic!" Bray taunted. "You're just putting him in harm's way, you know that! Why keep doing it?"
Dean screamed something at him, he didn't really know himself what he said. It probably wasn't pleasant. Bray sneered. "You're deep in it, Crazy. He permeates your being. He's in your bones and blood. I can smell him on you. He won't make you sane, little one. Just like she didn't make you sane. You drive everyone away, Dean! Rollins. Your woman. How long before he leaves too?"
Don't let him get to you, come on! Dean fought off the way his limbs wanted to freeze and listen every time Bray spoke about Roman. "Don't you have a sister to bang or something, Wyatt? You know I'm not the brightest bulb in the box; the hell do you want with me?" Dean asked, leaning back when Bray swung at him for mentioning Abigail so irreverently. "I'm a goddamn crazy ass wearing some jeans and a cute smile. And you're a fucking nutbag who thinks he's gonna' devour my world like a plate of your cousin-mom's cooking. I'd say we're on the same level, but-"
Ambrose slapped his hands down on Bray's chest, grabbing two fistfuls of tanktop and heaving them nose-to-nose. Bray snarled in his face and he bared his teeth in reply. "-why would I lie to you like that, ol' buddy?" Dean closed his jaw with a snap, liking the way Bray flinched at the noise. "You're a two-bit son of a bitch who needs a shower and shave more than anything on this planet-"
Bray's teeth sank into Dean's shoulder, interrupting what promised to be a fantastic rant. Ambrose yelled more out of surprise than pain, hammering his fist into the side of Bray's head. The bearded man held on doggedly for a few seconds, finally tearing free when Dean dug at his eyes.
Saliva dribbled freely from Dean's mouth, the man in a frothing frenzy as he leaped bodily on top of Bray and began pummeling him with his fists. Bray raised his arms, trying to protect his face from the onslaught of the 'Lunatic'.
"You wanna' bite me like a rabid fucking dog, I'll put your ass down!" Ambrose roared, hauling Bray to his feet and quickly gripping the man under his arms for a furiously-delivered Dirty Deeds. Bray's face met the canvas with a sick 'crack!', blood dribbling from his newly broken nose. He laid there limp while Dean pinned him, the three count signaling that the match was over.
But it was far from over for one 'Lunatic Fringe'. The man's eyes were wild as he staggered to his feet and let loose an enraged yell before running and launching full-Flying Lunatic through the ropes, knocking Harper to the ground. Reigns had been about to wallop Luke with that deadly right hand of his, but Dean interrupted him by putting Harper into his grave. Maybe literally.
Roman grappled Dean from behind, trying to drag him off Luke. "Its over, Dean, come on! Dean!" he grunted, catching an elbow to his stomach for his trouble. "Christ, UCE!" He slapped Ambrose upside the head, making the other man pause for a second, fist cocked back. "Dean it's me. It's Roman. The match is over. You're okay. We're okay." Reigns said as evenly as he could, not loosening his grip yet.
He knew how Dean could get.
Several tense seconds went by, and Dean finally shook his head. "You alright? Did I hurt you?" he rasped.
Roman sighed in relief, releasing him and getting to his feet. "Just an elbow. I slapped you for it. You good?" he asked, extending a hand to help his brother up.
"Yeah." Dean took the proffered hand, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, I wanted to bite his fucking ears off."
"I'm sure you would have if he hadn't gone down. Nice Deeds."
"You saw?" Dean preened a little bit, straightening his jeans out. "It wasn't a big deal."
"You gotta get that bite checked, though. Looks like he sawed at you." Roman grinned, "Maybe you'll need stitches."
"Psh, I got worse than this from my grandma on Thanksgiving. Old bitch doesn't know when to take a hint." Dean snorted, making Roman chuckle and slap him on the back.
"Let's get you to a medic."
Dean flinched every time the medic touched him, his skin jumpy with exhaustion. Roman rested his hand on his good shoulder finally, stilling him.
"Just let the kid do his stuff. And stop making faces at him, Ambrose."
"I'm not-"
"Yes, you are. Now stop it."
Dean grumbled something that sounded like 'worse than Rollins' under his breath, folding his arms across his chest. Reigns rolled his eyes at his brother, resisting the urge to ruffle Dean's still-damp curls.
"Shit stings like a bitch." Dean said calmly after a few minutes. "I ain't a fan of it."
"We'll have a cheat night if you can fucking behave, Ambrose." Roman offered.
Dean perked up at that, his eyes lighting up when they met Roman's. "Like. Chinese food cheat night?" he asked excitedly.
"Wasn't that what you were planning on anyway, earlier? You seemed pretty uptight about it." Reigns replied, brow furrowing when Dean's shoulders visibly drooped. "Uce?"
Dean suddenly ducked his head to snarl at the medic, who jumped backwards when confronted with the business end on six feet and four inches of irritated 'Lunatic'. "Look buddy, I know it's been a rough night for you so I'll be delicate. If you fucking rub my raw fucking skin with that swab one more fucking time, I'll break your damn arm." Ambrose hissed through his teeth.
"Whoa whoa, easy Uce." Roman had no idea why his friend snapped when he did, but he supposed it was part and parcel of working with someone who called themselves the 'Lunatic Fringe'. He quickly stepped between Ambrose and the medic, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Cool it. I know you're riled over Bray. The guy gets under everyone's skin, man. Just let the kid finish and I promise, cross my heart, we'll have a cheat night."
Dean sighed, settling sulkily back down onto the crate and folding his arms again. He jerked his chin at the medic cowering behind Reigns. "C'mon, hurry up kid. I get Chinese food and you get to not have your arm broken. Pretty sweet deal."
Roman slapped him playfully on the back of the head once they left the trainer area. "Serves you damn right for comparing me to Rollins and threatening a medic." he complained when Dean asked 'what was that for?!' "I'll still buy you Chinese, even though you do these terrible things to me Ambrose. Because I'm a good man."
"Coulda' fooled me." Dean winked at him, still rubbing the back of his head. Roman's hand covered his own for a second, and Dean noticed with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that Roman's eyes were uncharacteristically serious. The hand slid to the nape of his neck, tugging him into a halfhearted headbutt.
It was a typical Roman thing that Dean was accustomed to, the forehead slamming that seemed like the natural next step when they'd become more comfortable with each other in The Shield. The hugs were great but nothing said "I've got you man" like carefully whacking your skulls together.
"You okay Uce?" Roman asked quietly, his eyes searching Dean's. "Something fucked you up earlier. If you need to talk, you know I'm here."
"I know. And I appreciate that, Ro." Roman's look was kind of...intense (those damn gray eyes will be the death of him, Dean knows it) but Dean's alpha male side reared its ugly head and forced him to maintain eye contact. "It's just not a phone call anyone wants to get. Shit, it's not a conversation anyone wants to have over the phone." He tried to explain, disliking the way Reigns' eyes narrowed in concern. "I don't really wanna' talk about it."
"Well if you do." was all Roman said as he released Dean, ruffling his hair.
"Thanks, man."
If Roman hadn't had any idea that Dean was upset before, he certainly knew it now. Dean sat sprawled out on the hotel room couch, cartons of food almost entirely untouched on the small end table in front of him. The television was on, some news channel filling the silence as Roman ate.
"Dean..." he began around a mouthful of rice, somewhat surprised when Ambrose actually straightened up.
"Go ahead." Dean sounded defeated. "Tell me I'm a fuck-up. I can't even let you enjoy our cheat night without ruining it with my shit mood."
"Well maybe you should just tell me what happened?" Reigns suggested.
"It'll give you indigestion."
Roman laughed at that, the happier sound perking Dean up a little. "I doubt it, Uce. Try me."
"She uh..." Dean leaned forward, feeling like the aches and pains set in anew at his adjustment in position. "I'm single again, I guess." he said softly, unable to meet Roman's eyes. He stared at the carpet, the bandage on his shoulder pulling on his skin. One of his hands scraped against the wrap in annoyance, tugging until he was more comfortable. "Say somethin' bro, you're making me nervous." Dean mumbled, continuing to fiddle with the tape and gauze.
"So that stuff with Bray tonight..." Reigns trailed off when Dean nodded.
"He was talkin' a lot of shit man. 'Bout her. Rollins." And you.
"Fuck Dean, I'm sorry. I thought you were just having a tough time focusing. I wouldn't have hollered so much if I'd known that." Roman apologized, throwing an arm around Dean's shoulders and hauling him in for another gentler-than-normal forehead bump. He sighed heavily. "What's her reasoning?"
"I'm fucking nuts, Reigns. You know the story. Fucking crazy ass basket case." Dean's arms flailed out from beneath Roman's to illustrate his point. "Nuts. Also nuts about her and only her for four damn years. Nuts. Crazy. Goddamn lunatic. 'A danger to the people around me and myself'." He dragged Roman's arm off his shoulders and dropped it, lunging to his feet and starting to pace. His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm on his collarbone as he moved back and forth.
Reigns watched him warily, hands on his knees. Occasionally Dean would lash out, potentially at other people but usually taking out the majority of his anger on himself. Dean was his own worst enemy ninety-five percent of the time.
Roman could recall a few nights when they had been in developmental where Dean had flat-out demanded to be hit, sometimes doing it to himself if no one else would humor him. It had seemed to take his mind off of being so damned hungry or tired or just fucking sick of waiting.
The Shield was a different story. They had come together begrudgingly as teammates, allies. Brothers, eventually. They managed each other, they cared for each other. Reigns had an understanding with the other two men that they had each others backs, no matter what. Even if things got a little tense in the locker room.
Rollins had always been testy though. Dean had been raging about something, tearing at his hair and screaming in frustration from the argument that he and Seth had, and Roman had done the only thing that ever worked for anyone when he and his family got heated. He cracked his forehead against Dean's, enough force behind it to feel it in his jaw. Ambrose was notorious for being hard-headed. He just hadn't thought he was literally hard-headed.
Dean had stopped dead, stunned. Roman could still remember the betrayed look in his eyes and the way his hands had trembled and then rapidly clenched. Ambrose seemed to think he was being attacked.
"What the fuck, man?" Dean breathed, whole body tensing when Reigns applied more pressure with his own forehead. "What are you doing?"
"Do me a favor, Uce. In through the nose, out through the mouth." Roman remembered thinking he was about to deal with a shit ton of 'Lunatic'.
"'Uce'?" Dean had asked instead, surprising him. Reigns had winced internally at his verbal slip-up; calling Dean 'Uce' seemed weirdly intimate. But, after all the shit they'd been through together...
He soldiered on. "Uso. Brother." Roman shrugged. "This is how my mama would cool me, my brother and my cousins off. Whack our heads together and remind us that we were friends, so act like it."
"Your mom sounds like a smart broad."
"Easy there fuckface, that's my mama you're talking about."
"No offense. Mama's boy."
"None taken." Roman had maintained eye contact, watching as Dean's face lit up.
"Brother, huh. It's kinda' catchy, but I think you're the only one that can pull it off."
"Well I sure as shit ain't stopping once I've started. So you'd better get used to being my Uce."
Roman got to his feet, back in the here and now. He stood in Dean's path, halting the man's pacing by framing his face with his hands and bringing their foreheads together again. "Uce." he intoned calmly, firmly. A statement, and with it a promise. You will always be my brother.
Dean's face crumbled and he ducked his jaw out of Roman's hands. "Th' fuck do you have to make me feel so important for, Reigns." His hands shook when they wrapped around Roman's waist and pulled him into a fierce embrace, a single sob gasping out against Reigns' neck when Roman hugged him back just as tightly. "You're the best brother a guy could ask for." Dean mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm the shittiest brother. Crazy, four fries short brother. What the fuck."
Roman just shook his head. "You're doing what you've always done, Ambrose. The best you can." He sighed. "The playing field never seems level for either of us. But if we stick together, I think maybe we can flatten it."
"Damn I fucking hope so. I'm sick and tired of getting knocked down." Dean growled.
Something's different, Dean realized hazily as he ran down the stairs from the concourse. The belt that he'd...acquired from Rollins was gripped firmly in his hand, knuckles white from the force of his fist. Triple H, you son of a bitch, why the fuck did you do this to him?! He's the most important thing that I have, you giant fuckskull!
He was sick and tired of watching Reigns take a beating on the whim of the COO. First Wade Barret, then Mark Henry, Bray Wyatt. Now, The Authority had the balls to slink around the apron while Roman struggled to stand.
Stay the fuck down Ro, I'm coming. Hang on!
Dean launched himself over the barricade to stand on the commentary table, strap hoisted proudly in the air as he beckoned Kane, Noble, Mercury, Rollins to fight him for it. "Leave Roman alone, you greasy fuck!" Ambrose screamed at Seth, leaping bodily over the man when he dove at him.
Dean scrambled hastily into the ring, Reigns' fingers gripping his thigh as they stood back-to-back. "Dean-!"
"Scold me later, Uce!" Ambrose interrupted, the familiar word rolling off his tongue clumsily. Reigns' only response was an exhausted-sounding laugh before he threw himself at Kane, walloping the corporate demon off the apron.
Dean scrambled to get rid of Noble after dodging an overzealous tackle from Mercury, whipping the smaller man over the top rope by the scruff of his neck. Roman squared up in his corner as Ambrose whirled around, just in time to gesture as though he was firing Reigns like a cannon. The tattooed man let out a resounding war cry and Speared Mercury, crumpling against the ropes when he landed poorly on his battered wrist.
Rollins was abruptly in the ring, close enough for Dean to bite (what a weird way to think of space Dean chided himself). Ambrose was struck with a brilliant idea and threw the title belt with all his strength into Seth's chest, knocking the man back a step. Dean's eyes narrowed while Seth floundered.
Perfect.
His boot slammed into Seth's midsection, bending the man over for a second. Dean hooked his arms under Rollins', took a deep breath and then exhaled hard as he delivered what he would deem one of his more heartfelt Dirty Deeds.
"You fuck with Roman, you answer to me!" Dean yelled to The Universe, stolen belt held high over his head. Reigns staggered to stand next to Ambrose, tapping his fist and grinning broadly at his friend.
"I can't believe you came, Uce. I thought you were in Vegas." Roman winced as the trainer continued taping up his wrist.
"Eh, that was this morning. I had some sky miles that were gonna expire." Ambrose couldn't seem to stop shaking, fingers drumming nervously on his knee. "I can't stick around here man, you know Rollins will be after me. Can I find you later?"
"Obviously Uce, I'll text you." Reigns caught Dean's arm as the man rose, fixing him with that nearly-patented serious look. "Don't disappear on me, okay?"
A few hours later Dean found himself glaring down at his latest phone like it had offended him, an unsaved number displayed on the screen. "Worse than fucking Rollins," was how he answered the call, Roman's laugh on the other end managing to slightly soothe his annoyance at having to deal with an actual phone call instead of the promised text.
"I was worried! You're a rolling stone Uce, figured I'd make sure you weren't already in the air."
"Yeah yeah, whatever. 'Big Dog', my ass. More like 'Big Mother Hen'." Ambrose grumbled, kicking a rock.
"Alright alright, I'm sure your park bench looks real cozy right now Tough Guy. Wanna come over?"
"Just get me the room number. Pretty sure I've been loitering outside for half a fucking hour."
After Roman hung up, he grimaced at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked like he'd been through hell, and while that wasn't far off, he felt the inexplicable urge to clean up for Dean. He settled for clumsily tying back his hair, his taped-up wrist making the task far more difficult than it would have been normally.
A few strands escaped to curl next to his jaw. Roman grumbled in irritation.
The quiet knock on the door interrupted his nigh-shameless primping, and the black-haired man tugged his shirt to straighten it out before opening the door cautiously.
"Uce." he grinned, opening his arms wide and hauling Dean in for their customary forehead bash. Ambrose rested there once they connected, his eyes seeming a little more unsettled than usual as they darted back and forth between Reigns'.
"What's wrong?" Roman asked after several moments went by, confused when Dean shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Uce." Ambrose's voice was almost nothing, a raspy whisper. He opened his eyes again and the look in them sent a hot jolt down Roman's spine. "My brother." he continued, tilting his head to the side and smiling lazily at Reigns. "You've been there for me so many fucking times, Ro. I just...this morning I woke up with that fucking belt and I realized that I should have brought you with me. I fucking left you to be my goddamn messenger boy. Of course the Authority would come down on you, its no fucking secret that you're essentially my only friend in the company. I'm just sorry I didn't get here sooner."
"Hey, it all worked out man. As far as I know I still have my place in the match. That's all that really matters." Reigns pointed out, rumpling Ambrose's hair. His hand slid to the back of Dean's neck like it had so many times.
"You being fucking safe and whole matters to me, Reigns. I'm just sorry that it took me this fucking long to make it known." Dean's eyes flicked down briefly to Roman's lips, and then back up. "I'm sorry I took this long to tell you."
"Tell me what, that you care? Like it's not obvious, Uce. We're brothers. Feels like we have been forever, y'know?" Roman said easily. "You finally calling me Uce in the ring was kickass, by the way." he added, that shudder zipping down his back again at Dean's laugh.
"You liked that? I was worried I'd butcher it." Ambrose admitted, pressing his forehead against Roman's a little harder. "Uce."
"Uce." Reigns echoed quietly, cupping Dean's face. Ambrose's eyes closed as Roman tilted his own head to the side. "What can I do for you, Dean?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, I hate to say it out loud but..you always make me feel important. Figure maybe I ought to return the favor." Dean said it so nonchalantly, like he was talking about the weather. "Whatever you'll give me, I'm gonna horde it forever. You know I will."
With that Roman pressed his lips to Dean's, an excited sound leaving the blond when Reigns' hands fell to grip his hips. Ambrose's shirt was far too short for his tall frame, the battered article resting several inches above Dean's jeans. Roman wasted no time shoving it up even further.
It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other in various states of undress. Shit, there had been numerous times they'd slept in the same bed. But they both knew tonight was different.
"You're all banged up though, Ro." Ambrose pointed out worriedly when Reigns pulled back for air. "I mean, I know you're a tough motherfucker but you have had a fucking night of it." Dean's smile was back. "You lay down, okay? Get comfy."
Roman laid back on the bed, more than a little confused. Dean pressed a kiss to the bruise beneath his left eye, getting a quiet noise out of the other man. "I'm sorry I wasn't there in time to prevent all of this."
"Hey, stop blaming yourself. I'm alright, Uce." Roman insisted, hissing a breath out through his teeth when Ambrose palmed him through his pajama pants. "Fuck's sake."
"Interested?" Dean teased, shaking hands trying to untie the drawstring on Reigns' pants.
"Hey, giving a beatdown with you in the ring is an exciting experience. I can't help it." Roman shot back, his own hands having a hard time undoing Dean's jeans. Ambrose groaned at the contact, pressing his groin against Reigns' fingers needily. He was half-hard already, if the straining against the zipper was any indicator.
"Maybe...I should invest in some looser pants." Dean admitted, batting Roman's hands away carefully and fighting with his zipper himself.
"Don't even think about it." Roman growled. "The way your ass looks in those jeans is a fucking gift."
"Whoo, Prince fucking Charming over here." Ambrose mocked with a grin on his face, dimples happily displayed.
"Get fucking bent Uce, get the fuck over here so I can touch you." Reigns demanded, surprised when Dean obliged by scooting closer and yanking his shirt off. "Thank you."
Ambrose didn't reply, choosing instead to mouth over the front of Roman's pants before slowly easing them down. Reigns growled in the back of his throat, the noise dying at the look on Dean's face. He was looking at Roman like he'd never seen him before, and it was weirdly gratifying to the tattooed man.
"You're fucking gorgeous. I know you already know, but uh. Figured I'd hammer the point home." Ambrose shrugged helplessly and wrapped his fingers around Roman's cock.
Reigns couldn't help the gasp that escaped or the way his grip threatened to tear holes in the comforter beneath him because Dean Dean holy fuck-
He pressed his palms to the flat plane of Dean's stomach, feeling more than hearing the quick inhale from the man over him. "You okay? This okay? Can I touch you?" Shit, maybe he doesn't want me to touch. Shit shit.
"I fucking took my shirt off, didn't I? C'mon Roman, I'm all scarred and shit, no cool tattoos. Like I would turn down someone who wanted to touch me." Ambrose said plainly. "Especially you."
"Fucking hell Dean." Ambrose's words made him want to be furious. Who wouldn't want to touch Dean? Whoever had made the rougher man feel he wasn't worth being touched was apparently looking for an asswhupping.
Roman dragged his fingers across the defined 'V' of Dean's hips and dipped them below the boxers.
Dean lashed out at Jericho as best as he could with his arms wrapped in the sickly-white stranglehold of the straitjacket, doing nothing but make Chris laugh at him.
"You stupid idiot, you dumb fucking lunatic!" the older man jeered, continuing to chuckle as he watched Ambrose struggle harder and harder.
Dean was frothing at the mouth, doing nothing but exhaust himself as he flailed and kicked and squirmed in a mad frenzy of an attempt to get free. All the while his mind chanting help Roman help Roman help Roman HELP ROMAN HELP-
It wouldn't do him any good. Dean knew that. Roman had his own problems to worry about. Defending his title was a full-time job, even with his cousins to back him up. Dean felt sometimes that he had fallen by the wayside, tossed away in the tattooed man's quest to keep what he deserved. He didn't resent Roman. He couldn't. He just...
I miss you, Big Dog. I miss you, Uce.
Ambrose landed hard on his side after a botched kick, breathing hard and fast as he tried to get back up. Jericho was suddenly there, there, close enough that Dean could see the off-kilter look in his eyes. "What's the matter, lunatic?" Chris hissed, grinning savagely when Dean rolled away onto his back and started straining at the jacket anew. "Good luck getting out, you fucking basket case. It's made for you!"
Dean ducked his head to tear at the neck of the jacket with his teeth, but the fabric held up to his onslaught. He wanted to cry, to scream, something anything get me out of this!
Jericho's hand caught his chin in a vice grip, holding the younger man steady while he leisurely slapped the shit out of him. Soon Ambrose's ears were ringing from the blows, his vision swimming when Jericho finally released him with another mean-spirited laugh. Dean felt like his nose was broken. Maybe his cheekbone. Something was going to need some heal time.
Slowly, Dean managed to roll back into a crouched position. Chris circled him, knocking him down with a well-placed boot when he got too comfortable.
Roman's not coming. You're on your own, Ambrose. Just like before.
Dean choked back a noise in his throat, fighting down the memories of the asylum, of the fucking jackets and walls and walls and walls and walls-
"KA MATE! KA MATE! KA ORA! KA MATE!" hollered two familiar voices.
The Uso Siva Tau was taken up by The Universe as Roman's entrance music hit. Ambrose would freely admit later that he sobbed in relief, laying helpless on his back while Jericho ground a heel into his pelvis.
"Get the hell away from him!" Roman roared. All Dean saw before he zoned out was Reigns' legs on either side of his body, a fist connected to a tattooed arm colliding with Chris Jericho's cheek.
...there were voices. Someone sitting him up and tearing at the belts on his back from the side. Dean fought whoever it was, terrified that this was it, this was it, he would be sent back and this would be the last thing he did. He headbutted the person, face bruised to the point where he could hardly open his eyes and he didn't even fucking care.
"Uce, Jesus fuck," Roman groaned, "ow."
"You came..." Dean's voice was barely a shadow of its normal raspy glory. "Why? I figured you'd forget about me-"
"What the fuck Dean, how could I forget you?" Roman's tone was warmer than his words, the man continuing to struggle with the buckles.
Tears began to escape Ambrose's swollen eyes, tracking down his face. He was dimly aware of the Usos at ringside, still taunting a down-for-the-count Jericho. "I just..."
Roman hushed him, finally getting the last belt undone and jerking the jacket down off Dean's shoulders. "We can talk later, when you're patched up."
Ambrose hadn't realized he was shaking violently as he sat on the exam table. Reigns stood beside the table, still in his ring vest, with his arms crossed. The Heavyweight belt rested easily over his left shoulder. He placed a steadying hand on Dean's arm, humming out a low, calm noise. "Settle down, Uce. You're safe here." he murmured.
"It was just the jacket. I'm okay otherwise." Dean managed to say through gritted teeth.
Reigns shook his head at his brother, a rueful smile on his face. "Yeah yeah, Tough Guy. Humor me and stick around for them to check you out anyway. Jericho..." Roman's eyes darkened. "He really has it out for you, huh?"
"A jacket for a jacket. He's a funny motherfucker." Ambrose grimaced as the trainer came through the door.
Roman took Dean's arm carefully once the trainer was done patching him up. His facial swelling had been brought down somewhat with ice, but the bruises were blooming hard and fast. The boot-shaped mark on Dean's hip had made Roman's breath catch in his throat.
"I don't think I'm in any shape to drive." Dean finally spoke as Reigns helped him put on his jacket in the locker room. "Do you have your cousins rooming with you or...?"
"Nah, I've got my own room. I'll get you home, no worries Uce." Roman said firmly. "And even if they were, there's always room for you Dean."
Ambrose went still for a minute. Roman took off his ring vest, stowing it in his duffel and yanking on a (hopefully) clean t-shirt. Dean sniffled, making Reigns sigh and turn back to him, eyes fixed on Dean's battered shoes.
"I've been a shit brother, Uce. I've been so focused on...I mean, I won't make fucking excuses. I've been distracted. I haven't paid nearly enough attention to you, after everything that you did for me, that we did and I..." Roman trailed off when Dean pressed against his forehead with his own.
"Hey." Ambrose said, sounding choked-up. "Uce. You gotta stop saying this mushy bullshit." His smile was half-assed at best, but Roman couldn't help smiling back. "Just take me home already Reigns."
Dean cried out, fists clenching into the bedspread as Roman carefully fucked him with his fingers. Reigns hummed softly, his free hand occasionally stroking Dean's cock. Ambrose panted, "Fuck's sake Uce, c'mon!" when Roman batted Dean's hand away from his zipper.
"Absolutely not. After the night you've had?" Reigns shook his head. "Hell no. Just relax, Dean. Enjoy me like this." he said quietly, making Ambrose's eyes go wide.
"What the fuck Ro, c'mon." Dean mumbled after several seconds of steady eye contact. "Y'can't look at me like that, all fuckin'...all fierce and shit, and not expect me to reciprocate. You're knuckle-fucking-deep in me righ' now, Uce, c'mon." he pleaded.
"You've got more bruises than skin right now, Dean." Roman kissed Dean's thigh. "So stop worrying about me, and let me hear you enjoy yourself." He smirked against the pale skin. "I'd like you to be more detailed, too. Am I doing this right?" Roman asked, curling his fingers in a way that made Ambrose's breathing hitch. "I'd like to hope that we'll be doing this a lot more often. Ought to get a jumpstart on learning your ins and outs."
Dean moaned at Roman's words, a few tears sliding out. He wasn't upset, by any means, just a little overwhelmed. No one had ever taken this approach with him. He was pretty sure he wasn't worth it to begin with.
Roman seemed to understand, wiping the tears away with his thumb carefully. "You deserve a hell of a lot more than you've been given, Ambrose." His look turned fierce then, making Dean shudder around his fingers as he fought not to cum on the spot. "I intend on making you understand that, regardless of how long that takes."
Reigns brought one of Dean's hands to rest on his head and then ducked, flashing the trembling man a grin. "Keep my hair out of the way, okay? I'm not as good at this as I should be."
Dean gave him a shaky thumbs-up, mouth dropping open when Roman wrapped his lips around his cock. "Ro-!" Ambrose's throat went dry, the straitjacket horror long-forgotten as he focused on Roman goddamn Reigns fucking him with his mouth and fingers.
Dean had a moment of razor-sharp clarity, carding his hands helplessly through Roman's hair. If this is what love is, maybe it's not so bad. Shit, maybe I've always loved him,Ambrose realized, taking in how right he felt with Roman's body between his legs. That thought went straight to his groin, and he tapped the side of Roman's face in warning. "H-hey-"
Reigns' fingers suddenly curled, pressing up towards Dean's stomach and oh, oh god he was cumming.
Roman waited until he had stopped twitching before swallowing, easing his fingers out of Ambrose and looking for all the world like he was about to spew some poetic bullshit that would no doubt set Ambrose's tears off again. "Nope, no way." Dean gasped out, cutting him off at the pass. "Don't you dare. Just get up here and jerk off where I can see you, okay?"
"Dean-"
"Don't Dean me, Reigns. C'mon. Please?" Ambrose begged, "I can't suck you off with my face like this, but I promise I will once I'm healed up. Please?"
"Dean, I kind of..." Roman trailed off, leaning over and lifting his shirt up a bit. His cock was pinned against his stomach with the waistband of his boxers, and the inside of his shirt's hem was smeared with cum.
Dean huffed out a startled, "oh." A few seconds later he grinned painfully and said, "that's hot as fuck, Ro, when did you even cum?"
"Couple seconds before you." Roman rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile crossing his face. "You uh. Want to...I mean, after I wash my hands do you-"
"Oh my god Reigns." Ambrose grumbled, "hurry up and get back here so we can sleep."
Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead in passing. Dean settled back against the lumpy hotel pillows, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes contentedly.
Yep. I think we'll do just fine.
AN: Holy shit this is long as hell. I uh. I hope everyone enjoyed! Been into wrestling for a while, but this is my first Ambreigns contribution. Thanks for reading! You're the best, seriously.