December means a lot of things: Dean's birthday, TLC, Christmas, and New Years' Eve.
This chapter was an extreme labor of love. I'd written about 6k words two weeks ago, and ended up scrapping all of it. This chapter fought me tooth and nail, but I finally managed to complete it. I hope y'all enjoy it.
The first week of December brings even colder temperatures, and the first snowfall. In theory, Seth doesn't hate the snow. It bathes everything in fluffy white, leaves the world looking quiet, serene and peaceful. In reality, it's a pain in his ass. It means waking up even earlier, trudging outside half asleep to freeze his nuts off to warm up his car, throwing on layers of clothes to clean off all the accumulated snow to drive to the gym, and that's not even getting into the shoveling of the sidewalk and driveway.
It also means Kevin being a grumpy little asshole when he comes back inside, wet and covered in snow, rolling around on the sofa until he's dry and satisfied.
The snow's all gone a few days later, however, when the temperatures rise back up into a more comfortable territory, warm enough that Seth switches back to wearing shorts and a t-shirt when he goes to take Kevin on his walks.
He's really had it with the bipolar weather of the Midwest.
The first week of December also means Dean's birthday is coming up, and coming up quick. He's going to be gone the actual day-of, which means they're going to end up celebrating it a couple days later when Dean gets home. It's not ideal, since Seth would rather be with Dean on his actual birthday, but sacrifices have to be made in their lives, even if it makes him unhappy.
When Seth had mentioned it, Dean had said he didn't want anything done for his birthday, that it's just another day to him, and Seth understands, really, with the kind of life Dean had growing up, birthdays must not have been important to him, were just days he had to survive, not stuff his face full of cake and have a party filled with friends and presents. Seth didn't really have the parties filled with friends once he was out of elementary school, but Dean didn't even have that, and he deserves it, deserves a day where it's all about him, even if he's not a little kid anymore—especially since he's not a little kid anymore.
The fact remains, Seth needs to plan something, and he needs to buy something, and he has no idea what to do for either. He has a thousand thoughts, each one stupider than the last. No, self, what is even wrong with your brain, you are not going to tie a fucking bow around your dick, Jesus Christ. He knows for sure, though, that it's something that Dean likes, which is more than he can say about a lot of other things he keeps thinking of.
In the end, he settles for dinner at the restaurant they had their first date at, and a new watch. He thinks about having the back of it engraved, but there's nothing that comes to mind for an inscription that seems fitting. The date of their first date? It seems like more of an anniversary thing than a birthday thing. I love you? Dean already knows that, doesn't need it engraved on a watch.
Dean seems happy enough with it, however, when Seth presents it to him over dinner, a soft, small smile playing on his lips as he removes it from the box and slips it onto his wrist. "You really didn't have to get me anything," he says, thumb brushing over the face, "but thank you, Seth."
Seth smiles, pleased and delighted. The watch is a little loose around the bones of Dean's wrist, but the silver of the stainless steel looks good against the color of Dean's skin. "I'm glad you like it," he says, feels his heart beat fast and heavy behind the cage of his ribs at the soft, reverent way Dean keeps touching the watch, the way his fingertips keep gliding over the surface of it. It makes him wonder how many birthday gifts Dean has received in his life, how many times he's actually celebrated his birthday.
He's sure Roman and his family have done what they can over the last few years, but if Dean was as insistent with Roman as he tried to be with Seth about not wanting anything done, chances are all Roman did was toss a few beers back with Dean at a bar in whatever city they happened to be in.
It's not like that's Roman's fault, or even Dean's. You get so used to getting nothing, doing nothing, that it becomes the norm, becomes the status quo, and anything outside of that feels almost wrong.
Seth pays for dinner after they finish eating, and it's a quiet, comfortable drive home.
"Wanna watch a movie?" Seth asks, after they've gotten inside. It's still early enough that he has a few hours before he needs to be in bed for work, and he has nothing else he needs to do. He'd made sure he finished all the grading before he left the school so he'd have all night to spend with Dean.
"Sure," Dean says, whistles for Kevin. "You can pick while I take the dog out."
Seth hangs his coat and removes his shoes, untucking his shirt while he goes. He gets Netflix open and on the screen, and he's scrolling through the different selections when Dean comes back in, Kevin held tightly to his chest. Seth raises an eyebrow.
"It's cold for him out there," Dean says, rubbing a hand over the dog's back before setting him down, shooing him off to his bed. "Find anything good?"
Seth gets distracted watching the way Dean moves as he takes off his jacket, the stretch of his shirt across the jut of his shoulderblades. It's a plain gray shirt—there's no reason it should look as good as it does, but Dean somehow manages to make even the simplest of things look fucking mouth-watering.
"Uh, no, not yet," Seth says, flushing a little at the knowing look Dean is giving him. Fuck, it's not his fault Dean's so goddamn attractive.
Dean hums softly. "Hey, wait, go back up," he says, nodding his head at the TV. "Bigfoot's Reflection?"
"Uh, yeah," Seth says, reading the information on it. "It's a documentary, I guess. Wanna watch it?"
Dean's eyes light up, and he throws himself down onto the sofa, tugging Seth in against his side. "Yeah, c'mon, put it on."
Seth arches an eyebrow but says nothing, settling in against Dean's side once the documentary starts playing. It's not something he's all too interested in—or believes in, for that matter—but Dean is fully immersed in it, his attention not wavering for a second until it's over, credits rolling on the screen.
He's animated in a way Seth hasn't seen much outside of his passion for wrestling, eyes bright and filled with excitement as he goes on and on about how he'd love to take a weekend and go hiking through the forest in search of Bigfoot, how when he finally hangs up his boots, he'd like to really take the time to devote to Bigfoot hunting, "I mean, if he's not already found by then."
That's something Seth can get behind. Not the whole Bigfoot hunting, no, but the roughing it in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of city life, from all the distractions and materialistic things. It'd be peaceful, calming. "Maybe when it's not so damn cold we can take a couple days and head over to, I dunno, Washington or something?" he suggests, laying himself out over Dean's thighs. "Could go camping."
"You don't have to," Dean says, though he looks positively delighted.
"No, I know," Seth says, fighting down a grin at the look of pure excitement on Dean's face. "It'd be cool, though. A couple days away from everything, just you and me? Sounds awesome to me, honestly."
Dean sets a hand on Seth's hip, and Seth covers his own with it instantly. It holds him steady, keeps him in place when Dean bends and twists to kiss him, a soft press of lips that has Seth humming, his nerves singing.
"You're fuckin' perfect," Dean says once he's pulled back, eyes soft and hooded.
Seth shakes his head, feels his skin heat up. Dean always makes him feel so much, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to it, doesn't think he'll ever want to be used to it. He rolls over and onto his feet, pulls Dean up with him, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV with his free hand before he tosses it back down onto the coffee table. "C'mon," he says, hushed and low. He pulls Dean along to the bedroom, turning the lights off as he goes.
Dean thinks Seth's perfect, but he's wrong. They are perfect together, and Seth's going to spend the rest of his life showing Dean that.
Seth doesn't really like to take days off unless he can't help it and absolutely has to, but he wasn't able to make it to Survivor Series because he had to work the following day—he hated not being able to be there for Dean after his loss to Roman, especially when Dean had to shelve his feelings to be there for Roman after Sheamus and Triple H—and he swore the next pay-per-view Dean had a shot at winning a title, he'd be there.
Dean has a shot at Kevin Owens and the Intercontinental Championship at TLC, and Seth doesn't even think twice about using a personal day so he has Monday off.
He flies into Boston early Sunday morning, early enough that Dean still looks half asleep when he picks him up from the airport. "Sorry," he says, tossing his bag into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. "I could've gotten my own rental for the day."
Dean turns to face him, shaking his head. "No, it's okay," he says, offering a small, tired smile. "Couldn't really sleep, anyway."
"Nerves?" Seth asks, settling in against the door, attention focused on Dean, his hands on the steering wheel, smoothly merging into traffic.
Dean shrugs, squinting out at the road ahead. "Little bit, maybe."
"You're gonna kill it," Seth says, certain as ever. He will always believe in Dean, always have a never-ending support for Dean's abilities. "You've beaten him before, and I know you can do it again."
Dean reaches for his hand, and Seth gives it to him easily, twines their fingers together and rests their clasped hands on the armrest between them.
Dean's quiet throughout the day, intent and focused, and Seth leaves him to it, provides whatever calming comfort he can through proximity. The intensity and focus slowly sharpens, gives way to an endless amount of energy, Dean buzzing and bouncing, unable to sit still the later it gets.
"Ready to head to the arena?" Seth asks, shortly after lunch.
Dean nods, shoulders his bag. "Yeah, let's go."
Seth stays backstage until Dean's match is about to start, and quickly makes his way out to his seat after kissing Dean once, twice, win or lose tonight, I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you.
Kevin Owens comes out with a microphone, and his monologue makes Seth roll his eyes. Owens is good in the ring, yeah, but Seth would just rather not hear him talk.
Dean comes strolling and strutting down the ramp a moment later, and Seth is filled with so much fucking pride watching his boy, hearing the way the crowd goes fucking nuts for him.
The bell rings, and Seth's heart starts racing. It's good, the first few opening minutes. Dean's in control, working Owens over, until Owens hits him with a clothesline that takes Dean down. Dean retaliates with a clotheslines of his own a minute later, getting some good shots in as well.
Seth barely resists pulling his hair in frustration when Owens counters Dean's attempt at a running bulldog, getting him into a headlock that takes Dean a minute to fight his way out of, getting in a headbutt before he hits Owens with a flurry of rights and lefts.
Owens gets him down, though, two pin attempts that Dean manages to kick out of, and Seth's filled with so much nervousness, he's not sure how he's managing not to throw up.
He curses under his breath when Owens stands there, his foot on Dean's back, proclaiming that "that's why I'm the champ," which, ugh, Seth rolls his eyes. Think what you want, Owens. You ain't gonna be champ for long.
There's a moment there where Seth's sure Dean's lost, the referee's count edging perilously close to ten, but he manages to roll into the ring in the nick of time, saving the match from ending in a countout.
It's a back and forth melee that sets Seth's nerves even more on edge, and he has to keep reminding himself to breathe, and then he has to will down the half-chub that decides to make an appearance when Dean fucking growls and rips off his shirt.
Owens sets Dean up for the pop-up powerbomb, and Seth feels his frustration mounting, but then Dean's countering, turning it into a pin, and the ref's counting, one, two, three, and Seth can't fucking breathe for a minute, Dean's music reverberating through his bones, and then he's pumping his fist into the air, cheering along with the rest of the crowd.
Dean is the Intercontinental Champion.
And he comes launching himself into the crowd where Seth's sitting, and all Seth can do is laugh, his hands on Dean's sweat-slick skin—along with the people seated around him—elated and delighted, and so fucking proud.
He can't stop grinning, watching Dean strut around, from the announce table back to the middle of the ring, holding the title high.
"You did it," Seth says, feels breathless and ridiculous when he gets back to Dean's locker room, cheeks sore and aching from the force of his smile.
"I fuckin' did it," Dean says, eyes bright, dimples deep pockets in his cheeks.
Seth launches himself at Dean, his arms around Dean's neck, the title squished between them. He doesn't care that Dean is still covered in sweat, that he smells less than stellar right now, because Dean fucking won. He's a champion, has a title belt to prove what Seth's known all along: that Dean is one of the fucking best.
He kisses Dean, can't not, presses his smile right against Dean's, feels the soft puff of laughter from Dean against his lips. "Knew you could do it," he says, rests his forehead against Dean's. "Didn't I fuckin' tell you? Goddamn, I am so proud of you."
Dean laughs, loud, boisterous, an arm around Seth's waist. "I love you," he says, laughs and shakes his head. "God, I love you."
They separate at the sound of a throat being cleared, and they both turn to the doorway where Roman stands, back resting against the closed door, grinning. "Dean Ambrose, Intercontinental Champion," he says, laughs. "Congrats, uce. Knew you could do it."
Dean pulls Roman into a hug, knocks their foreheads together. "Your turn, man. Kick Sheamus's ass."
"I'm gonna," Roman says, claps a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ain't even gonna be able to walk when I'm done with him."
Good, Seth thinks. Deserves it after everything the Authority and Sheamus have pulled. "Good luck," he says, bumps his fist against Roman's. "Show 'em whose the man."
Roman nods, leaves shortly after to finish preparing for his match.
"You gonna shower?" Seth asks, clearing his head of all thoughts of Roman and Sheamus and the Authority. There's so much about it that makes him angry for Roman, and he hopes fervently that Roman wins and takes Sheamus apart in the process.
"Yeah," Dean says, nodding. "Goin' out to celebrate once Roman wins his title back."
Seth loves the belief and faith Dean has in Roman. They're family, brothers, and it's more apparent now than ever.
Dean disappears with a towel, and Seth sits with the title across his lap, running his fingers over it. He'll never know the feeling of having a championship, but if it's anything like how he feels for Dean having it, he thinks he'd probably combust with all the pride and excitement and elation.
Dean comes out with the towel around his waist, beads of water dripping down his chest. "S'as much yours as it is mine," he says, gesturing with a nod towards the title.
Seth shakes his head. It's not, at all. He didn't do anything to earn it. He isn't there in the ring, fighting day in and day out, putting his life and body on the line. "It's not, but I appreciate the sentiment," he says, offering a slight smile.
Dean stands in front of him, an arm wrapped around his waist. "Wouldn't have won it if it wasn't for you," he says, tips Seth chin up with his thumb and forefinger.
"You would've," Seth protests, knows deep in his bones that Dean is skilled enough, powerful enough, to have won it, with or without him.
"Okay, maybe I would have," Dean concedes, "but you make me want it more. You make me better. Just, y'know, havin' someone who believes in me as much as you do, who's as proud of me as you are," he shrugs, takes a breath, "feels like I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."
Seth swallows roughly, turns his face into Dean's hand. "I love you," he says, feels overwhelmed with emotion, all the insane, intense things he feels for Dean.
"Love you," Dean says, caresses the curve of Seth's cheek with his thumb. "Imma get dressed, then we'll catch Rome's match."
Seth turns the volume up on the TV in the locker room while Dean gets dressed, title laid across his lap, and by the time Dean sits down next to him, Roman's match is just getting started.
It's brutal, as Seth expected, and it's a push and pull that doesn't stop, intense and well-fought. Seth's body hurts just watching Roman, and he can't hold back the oh, shit that slips out when Roman's on top of the ladder and Sheamus pushes it over, Roman's leg bouncing off the bottom rope. Seth's sure Roman's done for, that there's no way he's getting up from that, but he does, scaling the ladder like it's nothing, like his body hasn't been put through the ringer already, nailing Sheamus with a Superman Punch that knocks him off the ladder and puts him through a table.
"C'mon, Rome, come on," Dean's saying, tips of his fingers digging into his kneecaps. Seth covers one of Dean's hands with his own, squeezing. He's about as on edge as Dean is.
Roman's climbing the ladder, and Sheamus isn't moving. The title is his.
Until Del Rio and Rusev interfere, pulling Roman down off the ladder. Rusev gets him isolated outside the ring, Del Rio rousing Sheamus enough that he can climb to his feet, helping him to the ladder before he's back to attacking Roman, giving Sheamus enough time to begin his climb to the top.
"Motherfucking shit," Seth curses, feeling the last of his hope fading. It's too much. Roman's distracted, Del Rio and Rusev keeping him occupied while Sheamus climbs, but Roman, the beast that he is, somehow gets them off and down, making it back into the ring in time to stop Sheamus, pulling him down off the ladder, but Sheamus is quicker, nails him with a Brogue Kick as soon as his feet hit the mat, and Roman's down, rolling to the floor outside the ring, and he's too late climbing back in, Sheamus pulling the title down, the referee ringing the bell.
Seth feels sick. Roman was screwed out of his title again.
"This is fuckin' bullshit," Dean says, rising to his feet and pacing the length of the room. "Should've been out there to help him, even things up."
"No, c'mon," Seth says, shaking his head. "You know that's not what Roman wanted. He wanted to win it on his own, without anyone's help. Bullshit that Sheamus can't win it fair and fuckin' square."
"Because he can't," Dean says, a growl to his words. "One on one, no interference, no outside help, Roman would fuckin' demolish him and his bitch ass knows it."
Looks like Roman's going to demolish him, anyway. Seth points back to the TV screen, where Roman's spearing the shit out of Rusev and Del Rio, who are holding Sheamus up between them.
"Get 'em, Rome," Dean says with a vicious grin, a look of satisfaction settling on his face as Roman takes a chair to Sheamus, over and over until Triple H, Stephanie, and a slew of referees spill out of the back.
Roman's a caged animal in the ring, prowling around, daring them to step inside, between him and Sheamus. Triple H is loosening his tie on the ring apron, and doesn't he know that's a bad idea? Does he not see the way Roman is about to completely lose his shit?
Seth sees it the second before it happens, the slow creeping grin that manifests everywhere on Roman's face but his lips, and the Superman Punch he hits Triple H with is a thing of fucking beauty, and Dean's sharp bark of laughter says he feels the same.
There's so much pent up aggression and anger making its way out of Roman right now, and everything Triple H is getting is what he deserves. The Authority has done nothing but make his life hell, and Roman's finally getting some well-deserved payback. Triple H should've known not to step in the ring, but he did, and Roman laying into him with the chair is less than what Seth thought he'd do.
"He's going to murder Triple H, holy shit," Dean says, but he doesn't sound sorry about that at all.
Referees are helping Triple H stand, and Roman's halfway up the ramp before he turns around, runs full tilt into a spear that lays Triple H out again. That might've been overkill, Seth thinks, stomach turning uneasily at how he'd excused Roman's actions from only a few moments ago. There's no excusing them, now. Roman went too far.
Dean turns the TV off and sits back down, shaking his head. "Jesus," he says, blowing out a breath. "Think that was a little much?"
Seth nods. "Yeah, just a little."
Roman spills into the locker room a few minutes later, still looking like he's ready to break faces, and it's a little unsettling, if Seth's being honest. He knows Roman wouldn't hurt him, or Dean for that matter, but seeing all that anger and aggression is kind of terrifying.
Dean rises to his feet and steps in front of him, and it relaxes Seth some. Roman's like a bull in a china shop, breathing hard and heavy as he stomps back and forth across the length of the locker room, hands clenched into fists as he shakes his head, jaw clenched so hard it's giving Seth a headache.
"You good?" Dean asks, shoulders moving as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"Not even close," Roman replies instantly, menacing, threatening, and Seth really does not like this side of Roman. At all.
"Too bad," Dean says, steps closer to Roman. "Fuck was that out there?"
"Takin' care of business," Roman says. He finally stops long enough to look at Dean, copies his stance with his arms folded over his chest. "Tired of 'em thinkin' they can fuck with me and get away with it. I ain't gonna deal with that shit no more."
"That was too much, Roman," Dean says, shakes his head. "That spear wasn't needed."
"The hell if it wasn't," Roman replies, chest heaving as his jaw clenches again. Seth wants to tell Dean to stop, to give Roman time to cool off, because it seems as though all Dean is doing is riling him up again.
"He's got kids, Roman," Dean says, voice rising. "You ain't gotta like him, and you can beat up on him all you want, but to take it that far? You want JoJo thinkin' her daddy is a monster?"
Roman deflates, his fire snuffed out in an instant. Seth blinks, surprised. He shouldn't be, when he thinks about it. If there's anyone who knows how to get to Roman, to get him to calm down, it's Dean.
"Shower, go back to the hotel, call your wife and kid, and sleep," Dean instructs, shaking his head when Roman opens his mouth to talk.
"Sorry," Roman says anyway, small and soft, shaking his head like he can't believe himself. "I'll just—I'll see you in the morning, man."
"Rome?" Dean calls out, big strides that eat up the distance between them. He pulls Roman into a hug, one that Roman relaxes into easily, his palm spread across the expanse of Dean's back. "Get some rest, uce."
Roman offers Seth a small smile before he leaves, the click of the door as loud as a gunshot.
Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, turns to face Seth, the smile on his face looking more like a grimace.
"That happen often?" Seth asks, trying not to be consumed by the worry he feels for Roman.
"No," Dean says, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Person can only take so much, y'know? Think it finally got to that breaking point for him, after all the shit they've been pullin' lately. He'll be kickin' himself tomorrow over it. S'why I told him to go call his wife and kid. They mellow him out real good."
That puts Seth's mind at ease, enough for him to put his focus back on Dean. "Ready to get out of here, Champ?" He tosses the Intercontinental title to Dean before he rises to his feet, grinning at the instantaneous smile that comes over Dean's face.
"Think I could fuck you while wearing it?" Dean asks, an eyebrow raised as he settles it over his shoulder.
Seth chokes on his spit. "Is that seriously a thing? I didn't think that was an actual thing."
Not that he'd be adverse to it, really. Just—he didn't think that was something that was actually done.
"Oh, yeah," Dean says with a laugh. "It's a thing. Could be your thing."
"You're such a freak," Seth says, shaking his head as he makes his way over to Dean. "Good thing I like that." He raises both his eyebrows, opening the door to the locker room.
The sooner they get to the hotel, the better.
On the 23rd, Seth and Dean fly out to New York City. Seth's off until the 4th of January for the holidays, and Dean has three days off before the show at Madison Square Garden the day after Christmas.
They do all the touristy things Seth has always wanted to do, especially seeing the insane Rockefeller tree that's even more breathtaking live and in person than it is in any photo Seth has seen. They really just don't do it justice.
Ice-skating seems like a good idea, until Seth's pretty sure his ass is going to be permanently black and blue. Dean, of course, glides around on the ice like it's nothing, failing to stifle his laughter every time Seth falls.
"Alright," Seth says, after he's fallen for what feels like the millionth time. "Think I'm done here."
Dean nods, lips pressed tightly together, but Seth can see his dimples peeking out, the failed attempt at hiding his humor. "C'mon," he says, holding out his hand. "We'll go grab some hot cocoa, and save your ass any more damage. I'm pretty attached to it and all."
They bundle up in coats and scarves, gloves and hats, and stroll through Central Park in the falling snow, their arms linked together at the elbow. Dean even allows Seth to take a selfie of them, Dean's arms wrapped around Seth from behind, Dean's lips pressed to Seth's cheek, Seth grinning so wide his eyes are all squinted. He looks ridiculous, but it's his favorite picture, hands down. He never really believed the whole when you're in love with someone, it shows thing, but looking at the photo on his phone, he swears he and Dean are practically radiating with it.
Presents aren't being done until after the new year, until they're back at home in Iowa.
It's different, not being home with his parents for Christmas, and he misses them more than he thought he would, especially since he's with Dean, but he guesses he's still a little boy at heart sometimes, when it comes to Christmas and being with his parents.
Seth enjoys being back on the road with Dean during his winter vacation. Their schedules have been so different the last few months, Seth loves that they can actually be together now without him having to worry about what he needs to get done for his classes the next day.
After Christmas, Dean works up until the 30th of December, and they take a red-eye flight to Vegas. They sleep in late, in preparation for the night's festivities, and when Seth wakes up around noon, Dean's already up, a feast of food waiting on the kitchen counter.
Seth stumbles blearily to the coffee pot, filling a cup and inhaling the rich aroma before he sips at it, feeling more awake once the caffeine enters his bloodstream. "Didn't think there was any groceries," he says, eyeing the spread of food in front of him.
"Just went and bought what we'd need for today," Dean explains, hunched over his own plate of food.
There are pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, along with toast, and an assortment of fruit.
"What'd you get for dinner?" Seth asks, already digging into the food. He's hungry, unbelievably so, feels like he hasn't eaten in a month. Flying always seems to make him hungry.
"Goin' out for dinner," Dean says, "so I didn't get anything."
They discuss the rest of the plans for the evening while they finish eating, and they laze around after, bellies pleasantly full while they watch TV.
Seth didn't bring much in the way of dressier clothes, but Dean seems to appreciate the black skinny jeans, the untucked white button down. Dean's dressed similarly, in a pair of dark blue jeans, a black button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles of his forearms, the watch Seth bought him that he's always wearing except for when he's at work, in character.
Dinner is a quiet affair, a perfectly cooked steak, a side of sauteed asparagus, and a baked potato, and the night seems to speed up after, moving along the Strip with Dean at his side, surrounded by a sea of people, lights everywhere.
Seth's lost count of how many drinks he's had, and he's not entirely sure how late it is. He's not much of a drinker, never has been, and alcohol goes to his head all too quickly. All he can focus on is the heat simmering beneath his skin, how Dean looks next to him, how badly he wants to take Dean home.
It's not his fault. Dean's fucking gorgeous, skin flushed from the drinks he's had, the cool night air, and his eyes reflect the lights surrounding them.
Seth nuzzles in close, his lips against Dean's ear. "Kiss me," he says, a hoarse whisper Dean wouldn't have been able to hear were it not for their close proximity.
Dean laughs, a pleased, delighted sound, his hands curving around Seth's jaw, laying a loud, smacking kiss on Seth's lips. It makes Seth laugh despite himself, and he can't help but shake his head. It's not the kind of kiss he wanted, but he's not too bummed about it.
There's a surge of noise around them, and it pulls Seth's attention away from Dean, tuning into their surroundings.
The countdown has started.
He waits until it hits five, and then he wraps his arms around Dean's neck, steps in close and whispers, "three, two," along with the crowd, and when it's down to one, when the crack of fireworks going off signals the start of the new year, Seth presses his lips to Dean's, feels a surge of hunger and want rip through him at the way Dean slots their lips together, his tongue an insistent press until Seth opens up to him.
It's over all too soon, Dean pulling back with a quick peck that leaves Seth wanting even more. He turns in Dean's arms, though, his back to Dean's chest, Dean's arms around his waist, watching the last of the fireworks explode over the city, the warmth of Dean's breath against the sensitive skin of his neck raising goosebumps over his skin.
"Ready to head home?" Dean asks, after the last firework has gone off, the sea of people around them moving once again.
"Beyond ready," Seth replies, an itch under his skin that only Dean can sate.
Dean takes his hand, leading him through the throng of people. They're parked quite a ways away, but the cool night air helps Seth sober up a little, and he enjoys the walk, taking in the lights of all the places they pass, the sounds of people laughing and enjoying their night.
"Sure you're good to drive?" Seth asks, once they get to Dean's truck.
Dean nods, pulling the keys out of his pocket to unlock the doors. "Yeah," he says, a hand on the small of Seth's back as he leads him to the passenger side. "I didn't drink that much, and definitely not as much as you."
Seth sticks his tongue out before he opens the door and climbs inside.
Traffic is a pain in the ass, and it takes forever to get home, long enough that Seth feels like he's going to come apart at the seams once they get through the door, pushing Dean up against it before he can even close it and turn on the lights.
Alcohol loosens him up like nothing else, and it makes him horny, almost unbearably so, and he wants, needs, to feel Dean inside him, all over him, the fire beneath his skin put out by the touch of Dean's hands.
"C'mon," Seth says against Dean's lips, hands feeling too big and clumsy as he tries to undo the buttons on Dean's shirt, his jacket still on.
"Hey, slow down," Dean says softly, hands coming up to cover Seth's. "Got all night, babe."
Seth knows, but he wants now, wants to get his hands and lips all over every inch of Dean's skin that he can, wants to feel Dean touching him, and he doesn't have the patience to take his time.
Dean's hands slide from his hips around his back, down past his ass, and he's lifted suddenly, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as he quickly wraps his arms around Dean's neck, holding on as Dean carries him through the house, setting him down on the sofa in the living room.
It's dark, barely any light spilling in through the windows, and it's hard for Seth to make out Dean's movements, but it's only a moment later that he hears a strike of a match, the logs in the fireplace crackling to life, casting the room in a soft orange glow.
Dean's in front of him now, shoulders rolling back as he removes his jacket, tossing it to the sofa before he undoes the buttons of his shirt, kicking his boots off and out of the way. It makes Seth's mouth go dry, makes his blood sing with arousal, and he scrambles up and off the sofa, removing his own jacket, his shoes, hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before Dean's hands are there, gently swatting them out of the way as he takes over.
Seth's eyes go heavy-lidded as Dean's hands smooth up the expanse of his abdomen, his chest, cupping the balls of his shoulders before he pushes Seth's shirt off, and he all but melts against Dean's front as Dean cups his face in his hands, sliding their lips together in a kiss that steals all the breath from Seth's lungs.
His hands go to Dean's hips to steady himself, the skin beneath his hands smooth and warm. He bites at Dean's bottom lip, soothes it with his tongue, relishing in the groan Dean lets out that makes his dick throb insistently where it's trapped in the confines of his pants.
Dean's belt buckle is a big, clunky thing, and Seth can't get it undone with all his focus on the way Dean's tongue is curling around his own. He pulls back for a moment, resting his forehead against Dean's, trying to get his breathing under control as he undoes the buckle, the button on Dean's jeans, pulling the zipper down, too.
"I wanna suck you," Seth says, low and raspy. Dean's hot and hard when Seth cups him through his underwear, and it makes Seth's mouth water.
Dean groans. "Yeah, yes." He falls back onto the sofa, skin glowing from the fire, and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, underwear, pushing them down his long legs, Seth pulling them off the rest of the way, ridding him of his socks while he's at it.
He falls to his knees between Dean's spread legs, his hands curved around the insides of Dean's thighs. They're thick with muscle, the hair there rasping against his palms, and he enjoys the way the muscles tighten as he moves one hand up, curling around the base of Dean's dick.
For all that Seth was feeling impatient only a few moments ago, he finds he wants to take his time now, on his knees between Dean's legs, feeling the way Dean's dick jerks in his grip. He licks his lips, moving in closer before he drops a kiss to the head of Dean's cock, following it with a swipe of his tongue around the crown.
"Jesus," Dean groans, already bucking up against Seth's mouth.
Seth grins, wide and filthy, lifts his eyes to look up at Dean. He looks wrecked already, hair disheveled, lips parted and kiss swollen. It renews the hunger and ferocity in Seth, has him parting his lips and swallowing Dean down, tongue laving along the thick vein on the underside.
One of Dean's hands tangles in his hair, pulling it free from the loose ponytail Seth had it tied back in, the other curving around Seth's jawline, thumb pushing in against his cheek. It's more sensation for Seth, mouth already stretched pleasantly around Dean, and he feels even fuller now, soft flesh of the inside of his cheek rubbing against Dean's dick, limiting the space in his mouth even further.
He groans, eyes closed, savoring the taste and feel and weight of Dean on his tongue, in his mouth, losing himself in the slick slide of his lips up and down Dean's dick, a hand on Dean's balls, rolling and squeezing.
"Fuck, babe, so good," Dean says, low and guttural, hand tightening in Seth's hair as his hips roll, a gentle thrust up into Seth's mouth. Seth relaxes his throat and jaw, nods his head as best as he can, and Dean groans, curses, hips rocking up into Seth's mouth, pushing past the soft give of his throat, until Seth's nose is pressed flush to his pubic bone, over and over until Seth's throat is burning pleasantly, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth.
Dean lets Seth go, and Seth pulls off with a sharp gasp, a cough. His dick feels harder than it's ever been. He trips to his feet, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, cursing how tight they are as he shoves them down his legs, his underwear following immediately after.
Dean puts his hands on Seth's hips, pulling him forward until Seth collapses in his lap, Dean's dick sliding up against his own. Dean's dick is still wet with Seth's saliva, and they move together easily, Seth rutting up against Dean, Dean's hands on his hips guiding each roll of his hips.
"Fuck me, Dean," Seth says against Dean's lips. He doesn't know how much longer he can go without feeling Dean inside him, and he needs to come, now.
The logs in the fireplace crackle behind him. Dean's hands flutter at his hips, move down to his ass, grip firm as he squeezes, baring Seth's hole to the air. The dry pad of a fingertip teases around the rim, makes Seth shudder, gasp, a hand tight on Dean's shoulder.
"Where's the lube?" Dean asks, and how he expects Seth to focus, he doesn't know, what with how Dean's finger keeps circling his asshole, shocks of pleasure spreading through his body, pebbling his nipples, making his cock jerk. "Lube, Seth?"
"Don't—ah, shit, I dunno," Seth says, strained and choked off. "One of the bags, I think." He's pretty sure it's in one of them, though which one, he doesn't know. Everything just kind of gets thrown together after a few days together on the road.
Dean sighs. "Up, c'mon." He pats Seth's ass, puts both his hands back on Seth's hips and guides him off to the space beside them on the sofa, making Seth groan and pout. He wants more of Dean, not less.
Seth watches as Dean moves across the room. The glow of the fire highlights all the curves and dips of Dean's body, from the slope of his shoulders to the wide expanse of his back, from the dip of his spine to the curve of his ass, down the well-muscled flesh of his thighs, his calves, and Seth is so fucking attracted to him, he almost can't breathe with it.
Dean comes back with the lube in his hand. He sits down on the sofa again, pulling Seth back down onto his lap. Seth goes easily, stays up on his knees, his hands on Dean's shoulders. "C'mon, c'mon," he says, squeezing Dean's shoulder, urgent and impatient as the heat of arousal swims through his veins.
"Patience," Dean says, but he slicks up his fingers, anyway, trailing them down the cleft of Seth's ass, further until he gets to the tight space of his asshole, circling slick fingers around and around to make him wet.
"Gimme, c'mon," Seth urges, tries to rock down onto Dean's fingers, but Dean pulls them away, trails them back up until Seth whines, bats at his shoulder. They're back, then, the tip of one pushing in, and Seth's eyes roll back in his head. Every nerve feels infinitely more sensitive, and Dean knows how and where to touch to make Seth feel the most.
Soft, damp kisses are pressed all over his abdomen, Dean's mouth moving up higher to his chest, teeth tugging at a nipple as he slides his finger the rest of the way inside Seth. Seth gasps, moans, thighs trembling where they're spread open around Dean's legs.
One finger becomes two, then three. Seth feels like a bow strung tight, and one more move will make him snap. "M'ready, c'mon," he tells Dean, grips the base of his dick tight to stave off his orgasm.
The lube makes a wet squelching sound as Dean squeezes it into his hand, but it sends a shiver of anticipation down Seth's spine. He braces himself for the initial stretch of Dean's cock, but it doesn't come.
Dean's arms are folded behind his head, and he's smirking, an eyebrow raised. "Ride me, Seth," he says, low and rough, gritty and full of gravel.
Seth narrows his eyes, but he reaches behind himself, grips Dean's dick and rocks down onto him, doesn't stop until his ass is flush to Dean's hips. He takes a moment to adjust to the way Dean stretches him, fills him, and that's it. He starts moving with purpose immediately, a smooth rock and roll of his hips that has Dean's cock sliding right up against his prostate, stars exploding behind his eyes.
"God, y'feel so fuckin' good," Seth pants, blurt of precome sliding down the tip of his cock. His thighs are burning pleasantly, and there's sweat coating his skin from head to toe, but he loves this, wouldn't want to be anywhere other than where he is now.
"Mmm," Dean hums, puts one hand on Seth's hip, thumb smoothing over the jut of bone. "Fuckin' gorgeous like this, Seth, ridin' my cock so good."
Seth groans, squeezes tight around Dean's cock, choking on a moan when Dean starts thrusting up into him, rolling his hips up every time Seth rocks down, a push and pull, a give and take, they've mastered perfectly. He anchors his hands on Dean's shoulders, locks his eyes on Dean's, speeding up the rock and roll of his hips despite the tremor in his thighs, the way it feels like he's about to collapse forward against Dean.
Dean's lips are parted, pupils blown wide, barely a thin sliver of blue visible. Seth reaches for Dean's other hand, takes it and puts it on his dick. He doesn't have to say anything. Dean starts jerking him off immediately, quick pulls where he thumbs over the head, Seth's breathing gone shaky and shallow.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, voice barely louder than a whisper, "that's it, babe, make me come."
Groaning, Dean speeds up, tightens his grip. "C'mon, Seth," he coaxes, traces the crown of Seth's dick with his thumb. "Lemme see you come, c'mon, wanna see you."
Seth's hips stutter, nails digging into Dean's shoulder as his balls pull up tight, orgasm rocking through him. He spills over Dean's fist, his stomach, gasping and moaning as his orgasm spreads from his dick and balls down to his toes, up to the tips of his fingers, the roots of his hair,the sound of blood rushing loud in his ears.
"There you go, baby," Dean says, one hand in the middle of Seth's back. His hips aren't moving anymore, and for a minute, Seth thinks Dean has come already, but when he's back to full awareness, Dean tips them over, lays Seth flat on his back on the sofa, snapping his hips against Seth's ass until he tenses, a guttural groan falling from his lips while he shoots hot and wet into Seth's ass.
Seth pulls Dean down, his hands cupping Dean's jaw, and he smears their lips together, licks into the warmth of Dean's mouth, a leg draped over Dean's hip. "I love you," he says, once they've parted, fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape of Dean's neck.
Dean lays his head against Seth's shoulder. "I love you," he says, low and breathy.
Seth moves his hands down the dip of Dean's spine, following it down as far as his hands will reach before he trails them back up, enjoying the way it makes Dean shiver against him. He's sleepy now, could happily stay here for the rest of the night, camped out in front of the fireplace with nothing but Dean's body covering him, but they need to separate, clean up, and Seth needs a bottle of water to stave off any chance of a hangover in the morning.
He stays where he is, though, for a minute longer, basking in the afterglow with the crackle and glow of the fireplace in the background.
They'll get up and move eventually.
"Happy New Year," Seth says, drops a kiss to the top of Dean's head. He can't wait to see what the coming year has in store for them, if it's going to be anything like the past year.
He has a good feeling it's going to be even better.
"Happy New Year," Dean says, settling further into Seth.
They'll move.
Eventually.
(A/N: There are two chapters left of this fic, one of which will be an epilogue. Things are about to get really interesting, and I hope y'all are willing to ride out the rest of this fic with me.)