A/N: Well, they say that writing can be the best kind of therapy. I wrote this because I, myself, had to fly on a plane, which somehow ended with me torturing the boys to get through the bumpy plane ride. This story is as much a story of the therapy that one plane ride from hell can have for Rollins and Ambrose, as it is the therapeutic nature of writing in general. Anyhow, hope you all enjoy :)
Seth didn't have innocent ears, but the string of curses currently emanating from his new tag team partner made even Seth blush.
"Would you just calm down? You're stuck now, so just make the best of it," Seth said, sounding for all the world like he was reasoning with a petulant five year old. Dean, for his part, gave Seth a look that told him immediately that once Dean was free, he'd make Seth suffer for every moment that he kept Dean trapped.
"You want me to calm down huh? We could die!" Dean finished loudly, drawing concerned looks from the people surrounding him.
Seth immediately tried to shush Dean. "Do you know the chances of that actually happening?" Seth whispered.
"Do you know how bad my luck is Rollins?"
Seth paused to consider. Dean had a point there...
"I'm sure we'll be fine. Just put on some music and try to sleep or something. We'll be there before you know it," Seth said, softening his voice as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal.
"Just so you know Rollins, if we die, I'll haunt you through every afterlife we get put into." When Seth merely chuckled, Dean leveled him with a steady stare. "You've been warned."
Seth raised his hands in surrender as Dean shoved on his headphones, cursing renewed with gusto. Seth merely shook his head and looked out the window over Dean's shoulder. What had he done to deserve this? When officials first told Seth about the trip, he'd been ecstatic, but once he found out Ambrose was involved, it soured everything. After all, it was no secret that he and Ambrose hated one another with a passion. In fact, Sarah, from talent relations, had even felt the need to sit down with them to have the 'can you coexist for a few days without killing each other?' speech. It'd taken a lot of negotiating on their part, but they'd finally convinced Sarah that they could act like adults and call a truce...if only temporarily.
Honestly, it was a great honor to be requested by WWE. Well, they weren't requested specifically...the exact words to FCW's talent relations from WWE had been: "We need two of your best rising stars for our Raw taping in California tomorrow night." Still, the fact that talent relations had thought of Seth and Dean first, made both men's chests swell with pride. Even though they were just going to be fodder for a tag team that WWE was currently trying to push, Sarah had reassured them that WWE would be scouting them none the less, always on the lookout for good talent. This prospect was really the only thing that could have ever gotten the two hard headed wrestlers to put their differences aside. And now, for better or worse, here they were, headed to California.
With a jolt, the plane started to move, beginning its taxi to the runway. Seth heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. "It's alright man, we're just moving a little." Seth reassured him with a small smile.
"Shut up," Dean muttered as he kept his eyes glued out the window, cranking the volume up on his iPod.
Seth shook his head. The only Dean Ambrose he'd even had the misfortune of knowing had been the Ambrose who enjoyed nothing better than kicking people's faces in. This other side of Ambrose was foreign, but Seth had to admit, he sort of liked it. It made Dean the warrior, a bit more...fragile, he supposed. In fact, seeing Dean in such a state of near panic invoked something he'd never thought he'd ever feel towards Ambrose in his life: a feeling of protectiveness. The raw fear that Ambrose was emanating made Seth want to stop the plane and agree to Ambrose's crazy plan to drive nonstop to California. However, both men knew they couldn't make it in time, which was the only reason Ambrose agreed to this plan to begin with.
Once on the runway and picking up speed, Ambrose, sweating profusely at that point, clenched his eyes shut as he felt as if his stomach had dropped to his toes. "Son of a–"
In a blind panic, Ambrose's hand clenched onto the first solid object it could find. He heard something through his headphones, but he couldn't quiet make it out. Knowing my luck, it's the captain saying that we're going to crash already, Dean thought bitterly. He was beyond mad at himself for going against his better judgment and getting on the plane. Planes crashed.
Dean paused his music with his free hand. Might as well know how bad the crash is going to be, he mused darkly. To his surprise, it wasn't the captain's voice at all, but one much more annoyingly familiar. "You're alright Ambrose. We're just taking off. It'll be over in a few minutes, and then it'll be smooth sailing...er, flying. You're doing great," Seth said quietly to a stunned Ambrose. Why was Seth being so nice all of a sudden? Dean wondered what he had planned...he probably planned to push him out of the plane halfway through if he knew Seth...
After a few minutes of ascending, the plane leveled off. Dean felt Seth's hand on his, prompting him to slowly open his eyes. They widened seconds later in horror as he realized that what he had assumed was the armrest he was clutching onto for dear life, was actually Seth's wrist, and he had it in a death grip.
Seth cringed slightly as Dean finally released his hold. Rollins resisted the urge to rub his immediately bruising wrist. If a bruise was all he had to endure in order to help Dean cope, he was more than willing to pay the price. After all, it wasn't the worst Ambrose had done to him...Dean muttered a quick apology, his face as red as the emergency exit sign that he had insisted on sitting next to.
As the stewardess started coming around to take drink orders, Seth requested a tea for himself, and a small bottle of whiskey for Dean...he seemed like the type of guy who would enjoy whiskey, Seth reasoned. Seth had assumed that by the time the flight was over, and in the wrecked condition that Dean was currently in, that he'd have the entire drink cart drained of anything even remotely alcoholic. However, to his surprise, an hour into the flight, the small, unopened bottle was still clutched in Dean's white knuckled grip.
Seth put a gentle hand on Dean's arm, startling the twitching man into a new string of curses. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking you should try to get some sleep...you're going to be exhausted by the time we get there at the rate you're going," Seth said.
"No."
"Why?" Seth asked.
"Because if we're going to crash and die, I want to know it's coming. Why do you think I fought you so hard for the window seat?"
"But wouldn't that just make it worse?" Seth asked, confused by Dean's logic. He figured it'd be better to be asleep and oblivious when the end came. If he had his choice, he wouldn't want to know when he was going to die. But, he supposed, that was just another difference between he and the Lunatic Fringe, as the other wrestlers had taken to calling him backstage.
"I don't get it," Seth said after thinking to himself for a moment, "You've fought in death matches and death tournaments, and just about any other type of wrestling match with the word 'death' in it..."
Dean nodded his agreement, "What's your point?"
"You've gladly walked into a ring filled to the brim with things that could kill you, and yet, you're terrified to fly. No offense, but I think I'm missing your logic..."
Dean paused. Maybe Seth had a point? Compared to the hells he'd been through, what was a stupid plane to all of that?
"I can't control it," Dean admitted slowly, understanding dawning on him.
"You can't control what?"
"The plane."
"Well, no, that'd make you the pilot, and then I'd be the one freaking out because the pilot of the plane was sitting next to me instead of being in the cockpit," Seth said, trying to lighten the mood. His efforts were met with a scowl.
"I mean, in a death match, I can control the amount of damage I take. I have a fighting chance to make it out in one piece. What hope do I have on a plane?"
Seth was confused. Where was all of this coming from? Seeing Seth's confused look, Dean sighed. He didn't blame him, Rollins hadn't heard much about him before Dean had randomly showed up one day, challenging him for his title. "Listen, when you've gone through what I've gone through, you learn that you survive through control. The more things I can control, the better chance I have to survive...literally."
Seth considered Dean's words. He'd heard of Dean's past, but he'd never seen any of what he'd heard effect Dean, until now. And to be fair, he supposed, Dean's reasoning wasn't so crazy. "Well, you know what I think about all of this?" Seth offered.
Dean gave him a 'why should I care' look, but didn't interrupt. "I think that makes sense. And I can understand why this is stressing you out. But trust me, we'll be okay."
"You don't know that," Dean said flatly.
"Well, that's true, but it sure makes the flight go by a lot faster when I'm not worried about it crashing every second," Seth reasoned, hushing his voice again as he noticed the angry scowls of the people around them.
Seth looked over. It'd been a few hours, and Dean seemed to be a bit more in control. He hummed roughly to himself as he looked out the window, the little bottle still strangled in his hands. Seth shook his head in slight amusement before he waved his hand in front of Dean to try to catch his attention; he'd learned earlier that touching Dean was all but out of the question in the state Ambrose was currently in. Dean looked over, annoyed. "You know, it's hard to relax with you waving your hand in my face," Dean said, no real heat in his voice.
"Hey man, sorry, just getting up to go to the bathroom real fast. Will you be okay for a few minutes?" Seth asked, surprised by his own sincere level of concern. He'd have to get his head checked when he got back home, he reasoned. Dean's crazy must be contagious. That could be the only explanation for why Seth suddenly felt concern and compassion for such an enemy.
True fear flashed in Dean's eyes for only a moment before it was masked again by the usual Ambrose cockiness. "What am I, four? I'll be fine by myself mother," Dean sneered. Seth simply shook his head as he rose. Why did he even try?
The line was killing Seth, but he finally got into the tiny closet of a bathroom, and none too soon. As soon as he sat down, the whole plane shuttered. He sighed in relief as it seemed to stop as soon as it'd started. Quickly taking care of business, Seth began washing his hands just as the plane started bucking about, hitting terrible turbulence which knocked him around the tiny space. Seth even borrowed a few curses from Dean as his knee slammed into the sink. As he tried to grab onto anything he could to steady himself, a flight attendant knocked on the door, urging him to return to his seat before the jostling got worse. Thanks captain obvious, Seth thought in annoyance. He didn't need to be told twice. His only thought was getting back to Dean who, knowing the kamikaze man, probably already had a hand on the emergency exit door, ready to bail at a moment's notice.
Seth growled in annoyance as the knocking on the door became full on pounding. "I said I was going! Think I wanna get stuck in here?!" Seth yelled in frustration, trying to grab the door handle and succeeding only in unlocking the door before another rattle sent him reeling back against the far wall.
"About time," Ambrose huffed as he pushed his way through the unlocked door, grabbing any part of Seth he could in order to wrench him out.
"Come on Rollins," Dean said gruffly, dragging Seth out of the bathroom. Another shutter sent both men to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Seth was stunned, unable to figure out why Ambrose was there. Untangling himself from Seth, Dean stood, and while using one hand to steady himself, he reached down to help Seth up with the other. Seeing the look on his face, Dean said under his breath, "Don't get used to this Rollins."
They'd landed in a few people's laps on the way, but they'd finally made it to their seats. Sure enough, Seth mused, Dean's hand hoovered, ever ready, over the emergency exit handle, and it was all Seth could do to keep from swatting it away.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we've ran into a rather large storm cell. Just hang tight, and we'll try to get out as quickly as possible," the captain said, his voice coming through the speakers, exuding confidence. The speaker crackled again, "Oh, and if the oxygen masks happen to drop, I'm sure we won't need them...but please put them on anyway," the captain finished, his confidence now simply false bravado.
Yup, dead, Dean thought to himself as he stared into the angry gray storm clouds enveloping the plane.
By the time the plane had landed, the passengers were visibly shaking as they slowly began removing their oxygen masks. Once the plane was safely parked, the captain came back on the speaker, sounding breathless as he said, "Welcome to Los Angeles International airport. We'd like to thank you for flying with us, and we hope you have a nice day." It was all Seth could do to keep Dean from breaking down the cockpit door and strangling the captain.
At least, mercifully, the rest of their trip went well. Their match was one of the best they'd ever put on. They're shared, near death experience, had seemed, even if only temporarily, to create a new chemistry between them that translated well onscreen. They'd gotten an endless amount of compliments backstage, and they couldn't wait to see if their performance lead to any new, future opportunities with the WWE.
Exhausted, but pleased, both men entered their hotel room to shower and change. Deciding to test their new found patience for one another, they figured they'd try to have a civilized dinner together to celebrate their newest milestone. However, just as they were heading out the door, Seth's cell phone rang, raising the hopes of each man.
"Hi Sarah, Seth here."
"Hi Seth, I was just calling to tell you that FCW is very proud of both you and Ambrose. We're already in talks with WWE about more dark match appearances for you both."
"That's awesome," Seth said, his excitement showing in Ambrose as well.
"As for now though, I'm sending you your ticket information for your return flight tomorrow morning."
"Return flight? I thought we were driving?"
"Oh no, not going to happen," Ambrose said, as he stormed towards Seth. They had a quick skirmish, but Dean was determined, and eventually yanked the phone from Seth's hand.
"Sarah? Hi, it's Dean. If you put me back on a plane, I will personally see to it that you never have a moments peace in FCW again. I will make your life as much of a living hell as that plane ride Rollins and I were on," Dean said, his voice deathly calm and threatening.
Seth could hear Sarah speaking, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. All he got on Dean's end of the conversation was an "Oh," before he sheepishly passed the phone back to Seth. "She says she wants to talk to you again."
"Hi Sarah, I'm really sorry about Dean. He's just ampted up from the flight and the match. I promise he won't do anything stupid when we get back," Seth said, leveling Dean with a look that the showed he meant what he said.
Sarah, happy to be speaking again to the more reasonable Seth, repeated what she had told Dean: "I heard about your trouble with the airplane. I was just kidding about the flying thing. I booked you guys a car that can be picked up at the airport. Just drive safe and we'll see you both for Thursday taping."
"Yes ma'am," Seth replied as they both hung up. He looked over at Dean who was pretending to suddenly be very engrossed in the channel directory the hotel had provided. "Were you really going to cause problems for her?"
Dean blushed slightly, then straighten, "If I had to get back on a plane, you'd better believe it."
Seth simply chuckled, turning once more towards the door, his growling stomach reminding him what the plan was before his phone had interrupted.
"Hey Rollins," Dean said quietly, and waited for Seth to face him. "Thanks for covering for me on the phone. I meant what I said, but you kept me out of trouble...so, thanks."
Seth shrugged, "Thanks from saving me from the bathroom from hell."
Dean grinned, "Don't get used to it. You were just lucky you had your pants on, or I would have left you in there."
Seth laughed, then turned serious. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask, why did you help me?"
Dean thought it over for a moment. "Because no one deserves to die in a crapper Rollins, not even you," he said, adding the last part as an afterthought.
Though there was much Seth wanted to say in reply to this, he kept his nice remarks to himself. Dean never really knew how to handle praise or gratitude. From what Seth knew of the man, it seemed that he'd never gotten enough of either to learn how to handle it when someone was pleased or grateful to him. Therefore, to spare both of them an awkward moment, Seth figured he'd keep his comments, good as they may be, to himself. A rare doorway of communication had been opened between them, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible.