Disclaimer: The author is in no way, shape, or form in any form of association with World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything else. I just wrote the thing. Please enjoy.
This is based around some headcanons and talk I was having with a friend on tumblr earlier after I posted a meme where Dean had given Seth the nickname 'Sethaluffagus.' I got a little too invested in Dean watching Sesame Street, but there's a big headcanon around it now. Enjoy this small piece!
Seth doesn't quite know what rouses him from his sleep. The blinds are tightly closed so there is no sunlight entering the room – though a half-hearted glance at the cheap motel alarm clock told him it was only 4:14 in the morning – and the partiers from the previous night seemed to have finally died down into slumbers of their own. Or maybe they just went and died; Seth wouldn't be surprised with how seedy this motel seemed. Seth takes a moment to stare at the peeling wallpapers across the room, watching the flickering lights from the television shine onto it.
They had gotten into town late, because Dean had ended up wrecking the rent car in downtown Atlanta traffic. It had taken 4 hours for them to get help and even more time to get another rental car. Roman had hitched a ride with someone else before all of this happened, as if he had some kind of sneaking suspicion at lunch when Seth told Dean he could drive the rest of the way. As a result of getting into town late? All the hotels were booked with no vacancy. The best thing they could find close to the arena was a shitty motel that looked like it had seen people die. The beds were hard, the television only had thirteen channels, and the shower looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a week. It was complete Hell, but Dean acted like it hadn't bothered him at all.
And while we're on the topic of Dean Ambrose, one thing Seth is noticing now is the side of the bed opposite to him is empty. An outstretched arm slung across the space proves that it's cold. What the hell…
He pops his head up, his long locks blinding him as they curtain over his face. Dean had pulled his hair tie out again when he was sleeping. How many times did he have to tell him that it was better for his hair to be up? He moves his leg to try and get up from the bed, maybe hoping to find this asshole and give him a piece of his mind, when his heel knocks against a skull.
"Ow?" Speak of the devil. "Um, yeah, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your feet about two miles away from my head at all times, thanks."
As Seth folds his legs under himself now, pushing himself up onto his knees and forcing his disobedient hair out of his face. In the dark but illuminated by the shitty motel television, Dean is sat on the floor. His back is pressed against the mattress to support himself, but he's staring directly at the television screen. The only sign that Seth legitimately kicked him in the head is the way his hair is laying now, weird in one area, more ruffled than the rest.
"The hell are you doing, Ambrose?" Seth asks, crawling to the foot of the bed and fixing his lover's hair in a form of apology. Dean doesn't reply, just motions his head towards the television. For the first time, Seth looks to see what is actually playing.
On the small screen of the motel television, in terrible quality with some slight discoloration, is Sesame Street. Seth is taken aback for a moment, drawing his brows together as he watches Cookie Monster talking to some kid about something or another before looking down at Dean again. His lover seemed… actually completely enthralled in the show.
"Dean…" Seth murmurs out, his voice slower now, just in case Dean hadn't heard his question the first time. "What the hell are you doing?"
It's a good ten heartbeats before Dean is tearing his blue eyes away from the screen to look up at Seth. The brunette's hand has to fall away from where it had remained in Dean's hair as their eyes meet. "The fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Dean replies, his eyes a bit glassy; like he's been staring at the TV much too long. Fuck, has he even slept? "I'm watching Sesame Street."
Seth takes in the answer, which doesn't contradict what he had been thinking before. It still doesn't make sense to him, but he should have come to expect that anything involving Dean doesn't make sense. "Yeah," Seth responds, his voice still slow, "Yeah, Dean, I can see that. What I'm wondering is why."
"Oh, forgive me for trying to relive my childhood here, Sethaluffagus," Dean quips back at him and okay, Seth is way too tired for this. It is too early to deal with Dean's… ways right now; not to mention his back is already hurting from this shitty mattress. Give him three hours in a nice bed and he would be back to 100% and ready to deal with Dean's quirks.
"Alright," is all Seth can even think to respond to that, Dean's eyes turning back down to the television as Seth is scooting back up to plop his head down onto his pillow. "Talk to you in the morning, then."
"Mhm," Seth thinks he might hear Dean hum in response, but it could just have been a prelude to the humming of Elmo's World he starts next. Seth's almost thankful when he doses off again, Elmo's voice sounding through the TV speakers softly in the silence of the motel room.
Very, very different from what I normally write, but definitely enjoyed myself.
Thanks for reading, reviews would be nice3
If you're interested in hearing about this big headcanon with this, contact me at .com OR .com (I thank them so much for being a lovely little cucumber tbh)
Love you guys!
~Ash