Hysteria
By: PhoenixJustice
Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.
Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.
Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.
Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.
Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I trusted you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."
A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.
A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.
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Chapter Ten - Your Place
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"Dean?" Roman asks as Dean storms into the room.
Dean barely spares a glance at him before shaking his head violently and heading into the bathroom, leaving Roman to flinch as he slams it shut hard.
Something had obviously happened. Something big. And only one thing, one person, affected Dean this way.
Seth.
So something had happened. He had run into him or seen him or...something. He didn't know what it was, but it ached all the same. Whenever he looked at his Brothers and saw them hurting his first instinct was to hurt whoever hurt them. Which made it all the more difficult and confusing when one man he still considered his Brother hurt his other Brother. Or when he had to fight one of his Brothers. Oh he put on a brave face about it, made some sort of smart remark but all the same...it hurt.
But obviously not as much as Dean was hurting right now.
So he waits.
Dean eventually comes out of the shower, towel around his waist. He still looked visibly upset but was obviously trying to hide it. But for someone like Roman, who knew him so well, he could see it. It could often be like walking a tightrope when it came to dealing with Dean and his emotions, but it was never something he felt like he couldn't handle. And he did it gladly. Dean was his Brother. Those were not just mere words to him. They were gospel, they were truth. When he made that vow, when they had all made that vow, it meant something.
"Dean?"
Dean stiffens, back to Roman as he rummages around in his bag for some clean-or relatively clean-clothes (life on the road could be hard; couldn't always get to a laundromat every day.)
Dean coughs a bit. "What? 'M trying to get dressed."
"Dean."
Dean starts to shake. Instantly Roman is up from his bed and over to him. He grabs Dean's arm to turn him around. Dean doesn't fight. Water drips from his head and he looks miserable. His heart aches in his chest hard and he hugs him close, not caring about the water soaking his shirt or the things that had to be tears soaking him further.
"What is it?" Roman murmurs. "Tell me?"
Dean clings to him tighter. "Seth."
Of course. He knew as much, but all the same...
He shakes his head, clinging to Roman even tighter. His hands were pressing hard, like vices but he ignores it.
"He..." Dean pauses for a long moment. "He..."
Roman pulls back a bit so he can look at Dean better. He looks frustrated. "He-"
Dean shakes his head.
"I think I found him." Dean says in wonder.
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He had to concentrate. So much was happening in a short period of time. He had to focus. Sunday was not that far away and he would not only be taking on John Cena but Brock Lesnar also. And on top of that, it was for the biggest prize in the business. Huge deal. But he couldn't focus.
All he could think about was Dean.
Words replay in his head like a broken record, over and over again. He kept being assaulted by the memory of Dean's lips, his calloused hands upon his heated skin, to be that close, to touch him and be touched...it was all he could think about. Which made it very difficult, especially when he had to play the dutiful Authority boy and then go and try to listen to what Punk had to say (which he knew had to be important-it just happened to be going in one ear and out the other without his say so.)
He clenches his fist. He should never have gotten that close to Dean, should never have agreed to talk to him. He knew that; even in his tired and wanting state he had known that. He had just chosen to ignore the warning signs and dived headfirst into a state of being near Dean, of having him-if only briefly. Of being able to have that closeness he had desired from Dean for longer than he had first realized. He shouldn't have gotten that close; it had been so dangerous. ...but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.
He loved him.
That brief, but important, encounter between them had made that very clear to him. He had denied it, or any emotion close to it, for a long time. He hadn't wanted to ruin a good thing, especially if Dean didn't feel the same or close to the same. He would have accepted being his Brother if he could not have anything more. And then when he had betrayed him and Roman-willingly or not-he had figured that was the end to any of those feelings, those thoughts. He would still feel them and think them, but how could he ever act on them when Dean hated him so much?
And then Dean had tried to kiss him and everything changed.
He had pushed him away then, in fear, in a lot of things.
The next time had been him initiating it, in anger, in desire, in a lot of things.
He loved him.
That wouldn't change. He...could only hope that other things would change. For the better.
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He needed some time away to try and take everything in and relax but he didn't have that luxury. He had to try and zen out or something. Maybe he'd try and use some of his connections and get a hold of DDP; the man seemed pretty healthy with the Yoga stuff he was doing... But he would be alright. There was just one thing he did not need to happen and he'd be fine.
And of course it happens.
He and his big fucking mouth.
Dean was standing there. He didn't notice Seth; he appeared to be waiting for the elevator to the hotel to open. He would have said it was Dean following him or Roman following him but their surprise was always much too genuine. He just had bad luck, apparently. Karma liked to give him a huge kick in the ass.
He watches Dean closely, unable to stop himself. He looked tired. Weary. Seth knew that look well; it was a look he often had, in the times when he could be purely himself and did not have to hold that arrogant mask together that everyone else saw when he went out there.
He watches Dean, in his wife beater and faded jeans and if he hadn't been sure that he loved him, he would have then. His breath hitches as Dean turns, seemingly feeling Seth's eyes burning into him. He doesn't say anything. Seth can see him swallow. He knew how he felt.
He wanted to go to him.
So he moves.
And he wanted to run away.
But he can't.
He hated feeling this way, these half emotions, speaking with half truths or all lies.
"Seth."
The doors open with a ding and he finds himself pushed inside by Dean.
"Dean."
And Dean kisses him.
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The door barely closes as Dean hungrily kisses him, seemingly not noticing the possibility of being noticed or not caring. Seth was having a hard time caring as much as he knew he should have, but with Dean being in such close proximity and kissing him like he was, it made it hard to care. Still, he manages to push Dean roughly off of him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hisses quietly, even though he knew no one could hear them.
Dean has the audacity to look at him like he's crazy. He frowns hard at Seth, panting slightly.
"Seth-"
Seth shakes his head.
"No. We're going to-damnit." The elevator doors ding back open as it hits a higher floor, people coming on. He bites his lip as he does his best not to look at Dean while the elevator moves excruciatingly slow up the floors. He can hear Dean's foot tapping impatiently on the carpeted floor. It reminds him vividly well of Dean from before, his other little quirks and things. People leave as they get to other floors and eventually, finally, it gets to his floor and he nearly sighs aloud with relief. He glances at Dean and jerks his head the way of the open doors. He leaves the elevator, not looking to see if Dean follows-he knows he does, even without hearing his loud footsteps on the carpet-and heads to his hotel room.
Luckily no one was waiting at the door. And no one else had his key. If they wanted in, they'd have to knock or call him and right now he had no plans to do either of those things. He had to try and straighten this out...somehow.
He just didn't know how.
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The door closes with a soft sound. He leans against it, looking at Dean who had walked ahead into the room. He looked out of place in Seth's clean, uncluttered, room. And yet completely in place; reminding Seth of the times when they'd split rooms together, having to sift through Dean's clutter (it was never really dirty as much as cluttered).
"Why do you keep harassing me?"
Dean laughs. "Is that what you're calling it?"
Seth glares at him. "You know what I'm talking about, Ambrose."
"Do I?"
"Do you have to answer everything I ask with a fucking question?"
"I dunno, do I-"
Seth moves forward quickly, pushing at Dean. "Stop. Just-stop. I didn't really want to talk to you, but if we're going to we're going to have to lay down some ground rules."
Dean grins. "What? Like more hands on? I can get behind that."
He tries to grab at Seth but Seth side-steps him.
"I'm being serious here, Dean. This...this thing, whatever it is. It has to stop."
Dean appears serious now too, not mentioning the slip of the name.
"Why?"
This was not quite the 'Why' he had asked before, but rang with some of the same undertones of it.
"Because I can't give you what you want."
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
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He couldn't do it then. Couldn't talk to him. Maybe he needed to. No...it was something he wanted. But he just couldn't do it. Not at this time. That would mean revealing things he couldn't-or wouldn't-reveal now. And it wasn't something he could focus on. He had to focus on what was at hand.
The Royal Rumble.
Here he'd be putting his money where his mouth was. Here he had to put everything out there, to pull out his full arsenal, because he would surely need it taking on both John Cena as well as Brock Lesnar. He had faith in his abilities but he knew he still had a steep hill to climb. And to think otherwise would be foolish. And one misstep would cost him that title around his waist at the end of the match.
He paces in the back. He wanted to be near the entrance, but not too close; he didn't want to run into Cena or Lesnar beforehand and have to deal with them. He wanted to deal with them in-ring. Would there be some interference? Maybe. But end of the day it was all him. It was his skills that would give him the victory.
Eventually he starts to make his way closer to the entrance, continuing his stretching. The worst thing you could do before a match was stop moving. Best thing was to keep your body moving otherwise you'd tank much earlier than you wanted to. So he moves, bends, stretches, and does his best to ignore the sudden appearance of Dean out of the corner of his eye.
"Kill 'em."
And just like that he was gone. Moments later, Noble and Mercury come to stand where Dean had been so briefly.
Kill 'em.
It's a phrase he knew well; it was a phrase well used in the Shield.
Kill 'em...he'd do his best.
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That was probably one of the best performance he had ever put on inside of a wrestling ring. He knew it would be something he would be able to be happy when he looked back at it...later. Right now it still stung. He has to come to the back without that gold around his waist, or on his shoulder. The applause he gets from the boys in the back, even those who disliked him, helped to soothe some of the burn, but it still hurt.
But he brought the beast down further than anyone else had. He did that. Not even Cena did that. Many AA's or whatever else, it had been Seth who had taken the Beast down.
He waves off help as he leaves the arena and gets in his rental car on the way to the nearest hotel where he had already gotten a room. He staggers out of the car and hurries as quickly as he's able into the entrance of the hotel. He was exhausted and he just wanted to get to get a shower and get to sleep. He pauses as he gets to the elevators. This was deja vu all over again.
"Hey."
Dean stands at the elevators, looking hard at Seth.
Seth looks at him.
He was tired.
He could only fight so much.
...that would be his excuse later, if need be. And not so much an excuse, as it was true.
"Hey."
He gets in the elevator and doesn't say a word as Dean quietly follows.
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The room looked the same as any other that he had gotten on the road. Well, okay, it was a bit better than a lot of them, pricier (hey, he hated the Authority but he wouldn't say no to a nicer hotel room-plus it cost them extra money.)
He finds his bag where he had left it in a corner and rummages through it for a few things, before turning around. Dean was looking curiously around the room, having been surprisingly quiet the whole way to the room.
"Don't get into anything." Seth mutters as he starts to head over to the bathroom.
Dean gives a sort of salute and shrugs, sitting down onto one of the two beds in the room. He leaves him to it. He gets into the bathroom, firmly closing the door shut and starts to strip. The first few hits of water is a shock. Everything seems to come into greater focus for a moment then.
He had lost.
All he had did, everything he had went through, done, all of it...for nothing.
He still had the briefcase, yes, but the title, the gold? It was still grasped firmly around the wounded Beast's death grip. And it wouldn't be him facing the Beast at Wrestlemania.
It was Roman.
Roman had, despite all the odds against him (and the anger of the audience watching), had won. It would be him.
Did he dare cash in during the match or after? Did he dare try and get into Roman's moment? Could he?
These thoughts rush through his head as he scrubs his head and then his body, barely noticing the soap sliding away, away from his skin.
What would he do now? Where did he, and where could he, go from here?
He was so tired.
The moment of clarity was gone. All that was left was weariness and shock. He had failed.
He somehow manages to get it together enough to get out of the shower and dry himself off before getting on some clean clothes. His hair still drips onto the soft carpeting as he exits out. Instantly Dean is back up on his feet and into Seth's space.
Seth shakes his head. "Dean, I can't-"
"Shh."
Dean hugs him close. He stiffens for a moment before relaxing, clinging to his supposed enemy, clinging to someone whom he hadn't been able to touch or be near in any real and good way in such a long time.
"Shh, Seth. It's okay." Dean says quietly, against Seth's ear. "You did good. Better than good. You did what no one else could and wounded that Beast. I'm..."
"I'm," Dean repeats, voice raspy. "I'm proud of you. Brother."
He crumbles.
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He had heard about Triple-H's plans from Mercury but there had been no time to even think if he wanted to prepare Roman in some way about it, as by the time he had heard about it, Raw was starting and there was Triple-H talking and talking away.
He knew the fans weren't happy. Not about Roman himself. But about the situation. Well it wasn't Roman's fault. He'd seize any opportunity to get to the top, just like everyone else. If someone else didn't win that they wanted or the situation behind the win wasn't what they wanted? Well it happened. It couldn't be undone. And he was proud of his former Brother; even if it put him awfully close to Seth and Seth's other goal.
Him and Roman exchange words, his not filled with any real truth. He knew Roman's were though. They had to be. He knew Roman was not happy with him, even if he was unaware of some of the things Dean had been getting into as of late.
Like staying the night with him that night.
He hadn't planned it. And looking back on it he regretted allowing himself to let Dean that close, even if it was something he wanted. Nothing happened then. He was so tired and out of it then that it would have been a disaster. But Dean hadn't asked, nor tried anything. He had held Seth. And Seth had let him. But it was dangerous. So dangerous. He wanted it so badly that it made it hard to remember his goals, his Mission. He had something to protect. The very thing that was trying to worm his way back into Seth's life.
And it was working.
He couldn't deny it and say it wasn't. He was slowly chipping away at the barricade of stone Seth had built up, both to protect himself and to protect Dean. It was crumbling away and Seth didn't have anything to patch it back up; his facade to the world was also fading with each stone that fell. To the world at large he could play the villain, the heel, the asshole, the sellout. But to Dean? He was forgetting how it worked.
But he keeps it together on the outside as he speaks in the ring to Roman.
A match against Bryan and the winner would take on Roman at Fast Lane? He was both excited and angry. Excited at the prospect of taking on Daniel Bryan, who he respected as a wrestler, and the prospect of being able to take on Roman in such a big match, on a PPV no less. But Roman got roped into something he didn't have to take on and he cursed not being able to talk to Roman about it; here Roman's inexperience versus some of the others was taking hold and he didn't like it. Roman was by no means stupid, as inexperience doesn't mean stupidity, it just meant that he was still learning some of the things that others had mastered or close to mastered. He'd certainly get there, in time. He just needed time, which he was not getting at this point.
After the segment, he makes his way back to his locker room. He feels half disappointed and half relieved that Dean isn't there. He almost expected him to, but the other man seemed to get that it wouldn't have been a good idea and stayed away. For now at least.
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Take on Barrett, Dean? Well the IC Title would certainly look good around his waist. And regardless of how Dean acted like he didn't care about titles and things, he had always taken very good care of the U.S. Title when he had been champion. He understood the importance of it.
Barrett wouldn't know what hit him.
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The match was a great one. He'd even say that it was better than Ziggler vs Bray earlier in the night, which had been surprisingly great. And he was sure he'd even look back in admiration of Roman and his amazing spear against the Big Show. Once the sting of getting hit by him and losing to Bryan faded.
He gets to the back and takes his time in his locker room, knowing that HHH was already way off in the Arena doing the podcast with Stone Cold and the others would either be that far watching or would have left, so he had some freedom.
And Dean seems to know that, because he walks in.
"Hey."
Seth looks at him warily. He wasn't really sure how to deal with Dean now. The lines were getting blurred and crossed and he knew that he wasn't putting up the same kind of front against him that he once did.
"Hey." he says shortly, continuing to get his gear together and into his bag.
"Great match."
Seth looks at him again. He seemed sincere.
Still, he had to try and maintain a front, so he sneers at the other man. "What? Not going to rub it in my face how I lost? Even though-"
"No. Do you really want me to, Seth?" Dean asks, hands in his pockets.
"Why do you care?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Dean asks, before sighing a bit. "Can we just-not for a little while?"
He got what Dean meant. Even when Dean might say something cryptically or it might come out wrong, usually he or Roman would be able to decipher the "Dean speak".
He sighs as well, zipping up his bag before standing up straight. He walks past Dean and pauses at the door, bag in hand. "...Getting hungry," he says, a little louder than necessary. "Guess I better get something to eat."
The door opens and he starts to leave. He hears Dean behind him. He could almost hear the smirk in Dean's voice. "Well, how about that. I'm freaking hungry. Guess I better get something to eat."
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this!
Let me know what you thought!
-PhoenixJustice