I do not own Bates Motel.

But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.

Yeah, Whatever

Recreational Ramifications

Coming back from surgery, major surgery was difficult.

Coming back from a double lung transplant, even more so.

But she seemed to be on the mend.

"Dylan. Close the door. And come here."

Uhhh . . .

And there wasn't a part of him that wanted to say 'no'.

Not his mind or his body.

As corny as it sounded, he ached for her. Her kiss, her touch.

Sometimes at night he couldn't sleep because his mind overwhelmed him with feverish, passionate thoughts and visions of the two of them.

It didn't mean he didn't respect her as a person.

It meant he was a living, breathing person.

Like her.

And he always . . .

"Don't pressure me. For anything."

Whoa, okay. Cool. Got it.

. . . remembered to be considerate of her as that living, breathing person.

Because one, he loved her, and two, she almost hadn't been.

Living and breathing.

So he always let her take the lead when he was with her.

Just the little bit they allowed themselves due to her condition.

Which was recovering from surgery.

"Emma, um . . ."

She promised him they wouldn't go too far.

Get her too excited.

What about me? You're so hot and I can only take so much.

Hurt her stapled incisions.

Overtax her healing body.

But Dylan Massett was nothing if not supportive.

Of what Emma wanted and . . . needed.

It's . . . theraputic?

Rehabilitative . . . excerises.

Deep breathing. Stretching.

Muscle . . . strengthening.

And mental, uh, encouragement.

He had even looked it up.

'A renewed interest in sexual activities during the recovery process signals a return to health and is regarded as a positive sign of return to overall improved wellbeing.'

Okay, well, the Internet said it was okay.

And Emma had said it was okay.

And they were keeping it relatively mild.

To start.

Because the doctor had said four to six weeks from the time she left the hospital.

Oh my god, she asked?

Oh my god, she asked.

For me.

I mean, like, she asked because of me.

And he had blushed and grinned like a dope.

A happy dope.

And tried to sound casual and calm.

"Okay. I'll put it in my phone."

And she had grinned and chuckled at him.

"Okay. Get out."

Gently chiding him and pushing him out the door.

And he went easily enough.

She asked.

She asked.

Nearly skipping as he went.

She asked because of me.

And then he went out and got tested.

Embarrassing, maybe.

But completely necessary.

Dylan Massett hadn't ever exactly lived what you'd call a purist lifestyle.

Drinking, drugs, crime.

Sex.

Lots of sex.

Whenever, wherever, sure.

That had been his motto.

From age twelve right up until . . . well, just a few months ago, as a matter of fact.

Right up until he'd started thinking there might be a snowball's chance in hell Emma Decody might actually be part of whatever future he had.

Before that, whatever.

Protection or no.

He had never much cared about his own safety anyway.

So as soon she asked him to come to Seattle with her and he had realized he wasn't about to have to wander out into the world alone again . . .

Seriously?

. . . or return to the Bates/Massett Little Motel of Horrors . . .

Me? You want me?

. . . he didn't even care how long he would he have to wait or under what circumstances.

Because now there was her.

Emma.

He would do anything. Anything for her.

She makes me feel . . . like a person.

But he did care about poisoning her, hurting her, damaging her with some sick, slimy venereal disease.

So he went to the clinic in town.

Got tested.

"For everything, right? Even HIV?"

Everything.

And he waited the few days.

Until the test results came back.

And then he returned.

Clean.

"Really? Are you sure? Nothing? I mean, I've done a lot of stuff."

The doctor looked at him quizzically over the top of his bifocals.

"Do you want to have an STD, son?"

Dylan crooked an embarrassed grin, shaking his head.

"No. I just don't want to give . . . anybody else anything."

The older man nodded his head drily.

"Good idea."

Flipped his hunter green folder closed and tucked the other hand in his pocket.

"Alright then."

Dylan stood up off the examination table.

"Thanks."

The doctor nodded again.

"Be safe out there."

He hesitated.

"And, son . . ."

Dylan looked over at him, expecting a lecture.

"I would suggest honesty with the person you're here to get tested for. It's the best policy."

And Dylan's heart dropped.

Tell her?

He knew about Gunner . . .

Now I really wish I could have fired him.

. . . the summer before.

So she wasn't a virgin.

But there was her and there was him.

And . . .

What if it changes the way she feels about me?

Then he left.

"I got tested at the clinic."

He couldn't look at her, he was too embarrassed.

Barely able to draw breath.

But he could still feel her dark eyes prying into his brain.

"You did?"

He shrugged.

Emma waited.

"Yeah, uh, you know, just in case."

He cleared his throat.

"And?"

He scratched his head.

"Clean."

She shrugged, smiling a little.

"Okay, so, that's good."

He nodded, shuffling a little.

"Yeah. And, uh, I thought . . . ahem . . . that I should be honest with you. About what I've done and who I've been with . . ."

Oh god, where to begin? The stuff I can remember I guess.

He opened his mouth again, only to have Emma wave him silent.

"Dylan, I don't want to know. I'm, uh, glad that you want to be honest with me but I really don't need to know."

She grinned wanly.

"Unless there's someone about to walk up and slap me in the the face. Then you'd better warn me."

Part of him felt relief and part of him felt guilt.

He opened his mouth.

Why am I pushing this?

Because I want to have one good, honest thing in my life.

And she's it.

And the way I am with her.

"I don't want to lie to you, Emma. I want to have an open and honest relationship with you."

She nodded, smiling gently.

As if she had any inclination regarding what he had been as opposed to what he was now.

"I know. And I appreciate that, Dylan. And if I were asking or if it were an important part of some direct conversation that would be fine . . ."

Her dark eyes randomly traveled the room until they landed on his face.

". . . but it's not and . . . I just really don't want to know."

She paused, as if trying to find a way to make his thick brain understand.

"There's a difference between lying to me and making a fresh start."

She smiled and gestured vaguely.

"This is your fresh start. Take it, okay? If I need to know something in the future, I'll ask. If you need to tell something to help guide someone to make better choices, you tell. Okay?"

He nodded, grateful for his fresh start, grateful to not have to relive all the stupid ass mistakes of his life before her with her.

"Okay."

She grinned.

"Okay."

And that was that.

I really love these two. And I love writing for them.

And I really appreciate, you, Lana Brown, for continuing to read and review. :)