Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Mpreg, Self-Harm, etc.
Seth had fantasized about doing just about everything to that liability waiver – burn it, rip it, shred it – everything, that was, except for sign it. Everything that he'd done for this company, everything he'd sacrificed, and all it came to was a piece of paper that blocked him from suing for damages he was rightfully owed. He never should have been forced to contest those matches.
The daily rotation of doctors and nurses filed in and out of his room at the scheduled times – giving him his pain medicine, checking his vitals, and checking his surgery site to ensure it was healing correctly – and every time that door opened, he'd quickly stuff the waiver under his pillow. This was his burden to bear, and he'd deal with it alone.
Who the hell did Vince think he was, to come waltzing into Seth's hospital room after he'd just suffered an incomparable loss, asking him to do the impossible? If he signed that paper, didn't that basically equate to him saying that what they'd done to him was okay? Because there was no way you could twist the facts to make that statement true.
When the next nurse came in, a sympathetic smile on her face as she handed him the small cup of pain medicine, he said, "I don't want any more visitors, unless its Dean or Roman. Okay?"
"Sure, Mr. Rollins." He took the pills and the proffered cup, taking a large sip of water to swallow them down. "Was this because of that man yesterday? Several of the nurses said that you were rather… upset after he left."
"I never want to see his face again." Seth hissed lowly, before refusing to say anything more on the subject.
He was getting agitated, so the nurse wisely decided not to push the matter further. She took down a few notes on his chart, before reminding him to buzz if he needed anything. Both knew he wouldn't buzz, though. He was a particularly stubborn patient, defying doctor's orders simply because he was so used to doing even the smallest and inconsequential things for himself.
"The doctor will be in to see you shortly." She said, then, "Just between the two of us, I understand that the doctor is talking about releasing you soon. Maybe even tomorrow."
Seth tried to smile, but his pain made it nearly impossible to do so. "I'd like that."
"How is your cheek feeling?" Roman asked. Dean's swelling was down, but the discoloring was considerably worse.
"Fine." Dean really didn't want to have this conversation again. He'd thought that all of that was over and done with. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."
Somehow, Roman didn't believe that. But he also knew better than to push. "I was thinking that we could both go and see Seth today. You know – so you could tell him to his face how you really meant to go to the hospital."
Dean frowned. "You say that like you don't actually think I meant it."
"No," Roman shook his head, "I say that like you need to tell him that, because he doesn't know one way or the other."
Dean had been hoping that they could put off the inevitable visit a little while longer. It wasn't that he didn't want to go see Seth – quite the opposite, actually – but he wasn't sure if Seth really wanted to see him. After all, if what Roman had said was any indication, Seth was practically beside himself when he realized that Dean wasn't coming.
He didn't want to hurt Seth, and he realized that waiting so long to see him was, indeed, hurting him. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to confess to Seth what he'd been doing while Seth had been getting his D&E. Seth had been hurting, and instead of being there to comfort him, Dean had been drowning his sorrows in the bottle.
"Seth is more forgiving than you're giving him credit for." Roman said softly, seemingly reading Dean's mind.
Dean looked at him sheepishly. He'd never understand how Roman could read him so easily. "Maybe I don't think that I deserve his forgiveness." Dean shrugged, "Maybe I want him to be mad at me."
Roman paused. Looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye, he asked, "Why on earth would you want to incur the wrath of Seth?"
"For the same reason I deserved to feel your hand try to take my head off my shoulders." Dean said nonchalantly.
Now, Roman frowned. "I already told you that you didn't deserve that and I'm sorry."
Dean leaned in closer to his boyfriend and whispered, "But we both know that I kinda did." And then, softer, "And I wouldn't blame you at all if you did it again."
So, this was what they'd come to. Not even twenty-four hours removed from promising that Roman would no longer be his razor, and Dean had already gone back on his word. They both knew that nothing Dean could ever do could warrant Roman putting his hands on him, and to insinuate that there was cut Roman like a knife.
"I'm not going to hit you." Roman said sharply, cutting off any of Dean's attempts to argue the point with a sharp glance. "I told you that I shouldn't have done it and I apologized for it. That's the end of the story."
"Maybe I don't want it to be the end -,"
Roman cut Dean off, "I don't fucking care what you want! It's the end!"
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Roman was frantically attempting to catch his breath as he came down from his outburst, suddenly realizing what exactly he'd said. Dean stood there, staring at him, mouth opening and closing much like a fish out of water. His face had turned a sickly pale color and his pale green eyes were filled with confusion.
Roman had never snapped at him like that before. Given his role as protector, it simply wasn't in his nature to lose his cool like that. But he found that he was losing himself more and more frequently lately, and he didn't like it at all. It had started when he'd slapped Dean across the cheek, and now… now he was screaming at him.
After several tense moments, Dean did his best to plaster on a smile – but it was painfully transparent. Inside, his heart was hammering in his chest at what felt like a mile a minute. All of a sudden, he felt sick to his stomach, but he did his best not to let it show. Instead, he put the last of his clothes into his suitcase.
"Would you mind finishing up for me?" He asked weakly. He just really needed to put some distance between himself and Roman at the moment, because right now the dam was threatening to burst.
"Sure." Roman sighed. He'd fucked up, and he knew it. He just didn't know how to fix it. "That's all your stuff, there?" He motioned to the mess that spanned Dean's side of the bed.
Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I finished packing for Seth already."
Roman opened his mouth, about to thank him for taking care of their lover's belongings, when he realized that Dean was no longer there. The door to the en-suite bathroom slammed closed and Roman felt his stomach clench painfully. Sometimes, he really wished that just one thing could go right. But that didn't seem to be the way their story was destined to unfold.
The nurse pushed open the door, motioning for Roman and Dean to head inside. "I should warn you, he had a rough day yesterday. He's been very agitated lately, so try to keep him as calm as possible."
Dean looked at Roman uncertainly, "Maybe I should leave then…"
Roman grabbed hold of Dean's wrist hard enough to leave marks. Dean tried not to wince, but Roman noticed how he tensed and loosened his grip slightly. "It'll be fine. Just c'mon."
Seth was awake, sitting up in bed and lazily flipping through the television channels. He seemed eerily calm, like the way the ocean looked right before a tsunami. When he saw Dean, however, he took the remote and chucked it at his chest hard enough to leave a bruise. This time, Dean flinched visibly, rubbing at his chest through his thin white cotton shirt.
"It's nice to see you too, sunshine." Dean snarked.
Seth scowled. "Where the hell have you been?" He was so loud that Roman shut the door, not wanting to draw unwanted attention their way. "Do you know how much I needed you, you fucking bastard? And you… weren't… there…"
Dean looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in his ratty tennis shoes. He'd known that this would be difficult, but he hadn't realized it would be this difficult. "I honestly don't have a good reason. There is no good reason."
"You're damn right, there's no good reason." Seth hissed. His voice was practically dripping venom. "Why the hell did you think it'd been a good idea to show your face now? You'll be my knight in shining armor after someone else slays the dragon?"
"I wanted to be there for you. I really did, Seth." Dean searched his eyes, looking for any sign of leniency. He received nothing.
Seth narrowed his chocolate brown eyes at the older man, "Then where the hell were you? Because you certainly weren't here."
What the hell was he supposed to say? He was at the bar, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of liquid courage, about to pick a fight with the biggest, meanest asshole he could find, just to feel something, anything at all? That he was hiding from them because he didn't feel like a part of this – didn't feel like the child they'd lost was his?
They all sounded like excuses, and Seth was tired of excuses. They were all tired of excuses. The doctor, who'd use every line in the book to dance around the fact that nobody knew why Seth couldn't carry to term. Hunter, who hid his abuse of power behind his 'best for business' gimmick. And now Dean, who hid his own insecurity in a bottle, refusing to accept his problem.
"I'm not going to lie to you." Dean said. Because what was the point in lying? It would just make things that much worse when he finally discovered the truth. "I was at the hotel bar, drinking. I made it to the hotel room and collapsed."
"So your stupid bottle was more important than me?" The heart monitor beside the bed began to beep erratically, warning everyone in the room that Seth's heartrate was increasing at an alarming speed.
Roman intercepted, "Maybe it'd be better if we talk about this later, when both of you have had time to think."
"I don't need time to think about anything." Seth bit back. "I've made up my mind." He started reaching blindly for something else to throw at Dean. "You're fucking bottle is so important to you, why don't you go fuck yourself with it!"
"Seth!" Roman said sharply. Normally, that would be enough to catch the smaller man's attention, but not this time. "That's enough!"
"No." Dean said brokenly, "He's absolutely right. About everything. I should have been there for him, and I wasn't. That's inexcusable."
Silently, he reminded himself that he'd prepared for this. He'd known that there was an overwhelming possibility that Seth would react negatively to seeing him again, especially after he didn't show in those crucial moments after Seth awoke from the D&E. He just hadn't realized exactly how poorly he'd be received.
Seth wouldn't even look at him now, "I can't even stand the sight of you. You disgust me."
Dean choked back a sob. Seth's words felt like a knife to his gut. "If I could give you a baby, I would. I would do it in a second!" He swallowed hard, "But do you realize how much it hurts to know that I can't even get you pregnant?"
"Shut up!" Seth screamed. It was the second time he'd been screamed at today, and Dean brushed it off again.
"You and Roman lost a child, and that's devastating. But I can't even have the hope of ever having a child!" Dean cried. "I love you, and I love Roman, and I loved this baby – but it wasn't mine." Now, tears were streaking down his face.
"Shut up!" Seth screamed again, this time throwing his cup of ice water at Dean.
The lid came off of the cup when it made contact with Dean's chest, and the water soaked the front of his shirt. Dean simply stared at Seth, wide-eyed, as the ice fell to the floor, soon followed by the Styrofoam cup. Seth was breathing heavily, as if he'd just chucked a one-hundred pound barbell at his boyfriend instead of a near-empty cup of water.
Without another word, Dean stormed out of the hospital room, slamming the door behind him. Seth didn't seem to be much better off, fighting back tears as he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, twisting so that his back was turned toward the door. And Roman was stuck between the two, unsure of who to comfort first.