Summary:
He muttered an apology and straightened up as soon as he was let go. Regal and Dusty were blocking his way out, both extremely serious. There would be no pats on the back that day, and in his panicked state, he guessed he wouldn't have a job either after the stunt he pulled on Seth in the ring.
Continues where chapter 11 left on.
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Chapter 12
Friday, 8th July, 2011
10:00 pm, MLK Center, Gainesville FL
He muttered an apology and straightened up as soon as he was let go. Regal and Dusty were blocking his way out, both extremely serious. There would be no pats on the back that day, and in his panicked state, he guessed he wouldn't have a job either after the stunt he pulled on Seth in the ring.
"Are you aware that you should immediately be fired and banned from WWE after what you just did out there?" Not only did you jeopardize the entire future of WWE's developmental system, but you could have also injured Rollins or even killed him had the referee not intervened." Regal didn't beat around the bush. "Had it been me, I would have ripped your arm off. You should be thankful the kid is nicer than me."
Dean was so terrified he didn't even register there were still people around them in the backstage area. He wanted to look down, away; but he couldn't tear his gaze from his managers.
Looking at Dusty's eyes drained the air from his lungs, and mixed with his exhaustion Dean felt dizzy, his knees trembling as he found it difficult to keep himself from collapsing.
"I was expecting so much from you," the American Dream sounded void of any emotion. "Is there anything you can say to justify yourself?"
No answer, there was nothing he could say to justify he'd lost his mind and had engaged in a chain of bad decisions.
Dusty's eyes narrowed further. "What? Not gonna say you fucked up? Were you frustrated because you aren't getting what you think you deserve, drowning it in cocaine and alcohol? Or did you just believe you're some kind of wrestling god and that you'd do fine anyway? I don't give a fuck if you destroy yourself, but I won't let ya endanger any of my boys."
Words didn't reach his lips to say he was sorry, that he never wanted to act like that. He felt unable to express how he was ashamed and regretted his behavior. All he managed to do was just stare at them and try to keep his knees from buckling.
Regal's gaze seemed to gravitate to Dean's side for a moment. "If you were struggling, you could have spoken to us. That's part of what we do," he assured softly. "But you thought it was better to fuck it all up and deal with things your way. For what? For almost beating the living shit out of a coworker, fucking up your future and everybody else's. Was it worth it, Ambrose?"
Dean couldn't hear him anymore though; he couldn't even see the two men in front of him.
He scratched at his collarbone as if trying to pull away a shirt that was too tight but there was just sweat and skin. He felt unable to breathe, the constriction of his actions choking him as his head lolled forward slightly.
When his body became heavier, about to lose consciousness, a hand clenched around the back of his neck, and secure fingers dug into his cold, sweaty skin. Dean was holding onto the last remains of consciousness when the fingers shifted and grabbed his hair, forcing his face up and air back into his lungs. It stopped him from collapsing onto the floor.
A strangled sound suspiciously akin to a whimper left his lips as he gasped for air, suddenly back to the room, overwhelmed by the voices, the light and the people around him.
He didn't know how long it took him to regain his senses but knew he'd had an audience, and it didn't go unnoticed. The only thing keeping him upright was the hand at the back of his neck, which slowly moved to his shoulder, still gripping firmly.
It took a few seconds for Dean to be able to focus his gaze. When he did, he could see Dusty was worried, and understanding emanated from Regal. Shame crept up his cheeks, his skin heating up. How long had he been out of it? Before his mind could process that somebody was still touching him, a nasal voice lifted all doubts.
"Dude, why the long face? The crowd fuckin' ate it up," Seth sounded ecstatic. "You guys saw that? They were marking out; they loved it! Was that the hate ya wanted, Dusty?"
Dean was still shaky but managed to remove himself from Seth's tense touch, finally turning around to look at him. While there was a wide grin set on his lips, his eyes didn't match it; there was something grim in them. Still, Dean was grateful that he stood up for him in his own style.
"Not like that, son," Dusty emphasized with a tired shake of his head before he addressed Dean. "That you had a panic attack is not gonna erase what you've done. I'm not firing you tonight, but you're hanging on a thin thread here. And neither Seth or the crowd will save you next time."
Regal took two steps forward, revealing a small notebook and a pen out of his jacket's pocket. He scribbled something on a page and ripped it off, handing it to Dean. "Our initial plans for you to win the medal off Rollins during the feud have been aborted. We will not reward your attitude with titles."
Dean swallowed as Regal's words sunk in. Fuck the titles, he still had a job and had been given a second and last chance. It was surreal, and it hurt, but at the same time, a significant weight disappeared from his shoulders.
Looking down at the piece of paper in his hand, he understood it was the name and address of a motel. Room 7. He blinked at Regal in confusion and glanced at Seth, his mouth parted to speak but just air coming out. His coworker just shrugged.
"Well, I just came over to say I'm fine and willing to forget what just happened out there. Off to the showers now," Seth said apathetically, his attention back to their bosses. "Need anything from me? I'm dying to get back home."
Dusty directed a warm smile to Seth, his expression a stark contrast with how he had looked at Dean. "You can go shower son; you did a good job. Thanks for staying professional above everything else," he said fondly, glancing at his watch. "By this time traffic is better so you could make it home in under two hours."
With that Seth flashed a small smile to Dusty and walked away, leaving Dean to stand in front of the two men, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.
He still hadn't regained the ability to speak, able to just wave the piece of paper weakly in the air.
Regal's eyes narrowed again. "That's where you'll go after you shower. It's a five-minute drive down the road," he said sternly. "You're not driving back like this nor are you going to get shitfaced here. You'll go directly to the motel and stay there; they'll have some proper food ready for you when you arrive. I booked that room for you, and you'll get random calls through the night to make sure you're there."
Dean nodded slowly, not daring to say anything that would put him in a worse position as he felt his heart still pounding painfully into his chest.
"We'll deduct the price of the room and food from your next check, and if you're not there when I call, you're immediately fired," there was no doubt Regal would follow up on his threat. "You have no say on this."
Again, all Dean could do was nod and bit his tongue. "The only reason you still have a job is that those kids don't deserve to be screwed because of your irresponsibility," Dusty took over. "This is your last shot though. We won't hesitate to send this to hell and start all over if you let us down again."
"I'm sorry," Dean finally croaked. "It won't happen again."
Regal nodded, his gaze still unforgiving. "We're not the only ones you should apologize to."
Dean sighed and nodded again, looking down in shame as his pride revolted inside of him. He shoved away thoughts pointing out he wasn't worth the chance FCW gave him, that he didn't deserve to have any of his fellow wrestlers standing up for him, especially not Seth after what he did in the ring.
"Now get out of our sight before we regret not firing you," Dusty said tiredly, rubbing the palm of his hand against his forehead.
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By the time Dean stepped into the locker room, most of the guys had left already. Sandow and Bo Rotundo were getting dressed, and he could hear the distant sound of someone else in the showers.
Dean kept his head low, and the other two respected his space, not saying a thing and just nodding at him in acknowledgment when their eyes met for a moment. Bo smiled nervously.
He approached his bag and took out a towel before he removed his boots and undressed.
Exhausted, Dean dragged himself to the shower area. He walked into the nearest empty shower, leisurely closing the door before he hung the towel over it.
Dean felt light-headed, closing his eyes to take a deep breath, trying to calm down his heartbeat. As his mind began to cool down, he became aware of his surroundings, his senses working again.
The sound of the stream of water and somebody soaping their skin coming from the adjacent shower cubicle tickled Dean's body. He inhaled the lingering smell of bleach in the room, not entirely concealing the notes of sweat and humidity typical in locker rooms as it invaded his nostrils.
Constant replays from the previous minutes appeared behind his lids, and hesitantly receded at the same time he forced himself pay attention to something else.
Shivering slightly as the sweat in his body evaporated, Dean's hand reached forward, stopping against the cold metal. Did he just hear a groan?
Dean's arm shot forward to hold onto the wall, afraid he would lose his balance after straining his neck to listen a bit closer. Had he not been so shaken and coming down from a near panic attack, he would have chuckled at the unmistakable slapping sound of slick skin, not disguised at all by the water falling over the guy's body.
Dean grimaced, a sarcastic voice in his mind annoyed by other people being able to enjoy a little moment with themselves, while he had to try to avoid having a heart attack. Life was just that unfair. His dick was probably the last thing he would care to think about at the moment.
Soft pants reached his ears as the smack of skin on skin's pace increased, their rhythm growing desperate and louder.
Deciding he had no interest in listening to another guy's masturbation practices, Dean started the shower, a small smirk tingling his lips at the soft 'Fuck' coming from the other stall. He waited for steam to form around the stream before stepping under it. Muffled by the surrounding water as he relaxed, he heard a choked whimper and the plastic slide of flip-flops against the shower floor while he scrubbed his hair to get rid of the sweat on it.
Dean took a lengthy shower, lazily soaping his body and cleaning himself as much as he could, like that would make his guilt and self-loathing go away. He enjoyed how the cascading water soothed his aching muscles as it rolled down his skin.
The nearby shower stream stopped and its occupant left long before Dean finished his own and patted himself dry with the towel.
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Feeling ready to fall asleep while still on his feet, Dean stumbled back into the lockers area, frowning when his hopes to be the only person left in the room were immediately crushed.
Seth stood in front of him on a pair of sweatpants, tying his damp hair into a ponytail. He flinched when he noticed Dean was there but said nothing as he reached out for a black band tee shirt and put it on.
Neither his scowl nor the slight flush that darkener further on his skin escaped Dean's eyes. He was too spent to chuckle, but a little grin set on his lips at the realization that Seth was the one using the other shower. None of them mentioned it.
Dean approached his bag and proceeded to get dressed. As he zipped his jeans up, he took a glance at Seth, who seemed ready to go.
Fumbling to button his pants, Dean gathered the energy to break the awkward silence as soon as his coworker turned his back to him to leave. "Seth," he called in a faint rasp, feeling his heart beat faster in anticipation.
Seth's back visibly tensed and he stopped on the spot. He just stood there, making it clear Dean would have to talk to his back.
"Hey, sorry about before. I'm serious, Seth," he winced and let out a long, shaky sigh. "I could have killed you and fuck everything up for everybody. It won't happen again, I swear."
Seth turned around abruptly, his mouth tightened in a twitchy line, his eyes wide open and his forehead furrowed deeply. His nostrils fluttered with heavy breaths.
"Da fuck was that out there, Ambrose?" He blurted, his fists clenched and his body leaning backward slightly. "Don't give me any bullshit 'cause I'll beat the shit out of ya right here."
Dean watched Seth's posture slouching down a fraction as he took a step forward. "Ya want the truth? Okay, I was anxious as fuck and lost my mind. I didn't know what I was doin' and lost control. Was coming down from last night, hadn't slept and then the fuckin' drive here," he recalled. "Regal yelled the shit outta me, and then ya hit me and-"
"That's not the fucking problem!" Seth took a few more steps forward. "Ya get wasted the night before a trip now? When they're launching our feud? The first time we're gonna step into a fuckin' ring together and that Dusty asked us to work our asses on? Why did you do that?"
Dean gasped and looked away, uncomfortable. "I get now what ya meant when you said there was no real competition here," he admitted. "I'm frustrated already and lost control after the match with Curtis. I drank, got some attention from the chicks-" his excuse sounded pathetic once voiced, but it didn't make it less true. "Sometimes ya just do the only thing ya know, and that was a fuck up. Fucked up big, dude."
"Yeah, you did," Seth's voice was harsh and carried some venom. "I don't know how I'm supposed to trust you in the ring now? It's my fuckin' body I'm putting in your hands, dude."
"Why did you help me with the bosses earlier then?" He questioned, suddenly confused. "I don't get it; you held me up when I was gonna pass out and supported me. So don't give me any bullshit either, why did you do it?"
Seth looked down as he reached up to fix his bun. He sighed softly and faced Dean again wearily, almost with resignation. "Because I'll never get outta here if you're fired," the look on his face left no doubts that he wasn't joking.
Dean had no way to hide his disappointment, but he knew he brought this to himself.
With an indolent shrug, he fixed his eyes on Seth again before he stepped back to finish getting dressed. "I'm pretty sure they'll put us on another six-man match again, I'll show ya there that if there's a place you can trust me, it's in a ring," he promised, his voice firmer as he slid into a tank top.
"I hope so," Seth said turning away again and gathering his bag. He stopped moving when his hand reached the door handle and tightened around it. He hesitated for a moment. "Please don't fuck this up, Dean," he pleaded between gritted teeth before he left the room, pushing the door closed with a kick.
Dean sank down on a bench and bent down to lace up his shoes, mouthing a 'Thanks' meant for people who weren't there to hear it. He sat there for a while, lost in thoughts he had no energy to pay attention to until he went back to reality and zipped up his bag, distantly feeling grateful that Regal had gotten him a room.
That was much better than sleeping in his car or crashing on the road.
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It only took a few minutes to find the motel, easily recognizable from the road. A quick look at the parking lot revealed that there were a few familiar cars from some of the guys who decided to stay the night. He guessed Regal knew the place and recommended it, or the guys just happened to see it on their way back and decided to rest there.
After a quick check-in, the receptionist gave him a key and a big bag full of food that still felt warm.
Dean went back outside and wandered until he found his room, which revealed to be small yet clean and decent enough compared with the motels he was used to.
He dropped his duffel bag on the bed and kicked out of his shoes, his sore body aching at every move. A quick look revealed where the phone was and it was plugged so he would just wake up to pick Regal's calls then fall asleep again.
Dean placed the food on the small desk at the end of the room before he unfastened his belt and slid his jeans down and out of his feet.
The bathroom was tiny, but it was also clean. Dean washed his face to try and wake up a bit before he sat down to eat.
The meal consisted of generous portions of boiled potatoes, chicken, and steamed vegetables on some thick, dark sauce. While not feeling hungry at all but sick and too tired to even think coherently, the food smelled delicious and was still warm, so Dean forced himself to eat as he tried to come to peace with everything that had happened during the last twenty-four hours.
Dean closed the containers and placed them back into the paper bag when he couldn't even manage to lift the plastic fork toward his mouth anymore. He briefly wondered how much it would cost him since the food seemed to come from a local restaurant judging by the bags.
He moved his belongings on the floor and rolled under the scratchy yet clean sheets, settling to lie on his back with an arm behind his head. Dean's eyes felt heavy and stung as they slid closed, and his mind jumped deliriously from one thought to the other.
Dean's train of thought drifted back to earlier in the night when he heard Seth jerking off in the shower. He wondered why he was doing it; if it was due to ring adrenaline, something that was very common like a ring chub. Was Seth trying to relieve some stress or pent-up tension? Maybe he was just horny? He briefly tried to imagine him in the shower, would he be blissed out or just anxiously getting himself off?
Dean snorted when he realized he didn't give a shit about why his coworker masturbated and certainly didn't need a mental image of how he looked like while doing so. He was just thinking crap before drifting off. Still, he thought he'd get to it faster if he followed Seth's example even if he wasn't in the mood at all.
As his breathing steadied and his chest rose and sunk slowly, the hand resting on his belly slid down lazily until he felt the fabric of his boxers. Dean lifted them at the waistline to slip his hand inside, his fingers brushing his skin before wrapping loosely around his soft dick.
Dean rubbed the palm of his hand against his unresponsive flesh, absently caressing the smooth skin at the top with a fingertip as he teased himself with short motions he barely felt. It took him moments to fall into a deep slumber with his hand in his boxers.
When Dean woke up in the morning, still tired and sore, the first thing he realized was the phone never rang.
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NOTES:
And here I am cementing my position as a heel writer even further; I almost feel guilty for enjoying writing chapter 11 and 12 so much lol. I'm making Dean go through a lot but it's all necessary to the story. If you've read 'Overwhelmed,' you know he will get some reward along the line besides all this drama.
Even with how slow burn this fic is, we are quickly getting to their first match! Are you as excited as I am to get into their feud? The fact that things we already saw in Part 1 of ALAWKTT are starting to converge or show themselves as natural now in OSWIW is a plus as I fit the pieces together. I could ask you so many questions about this chapter, but I would rather listen to you talk about it :)
A quick reminder that I'm still open to fic prompts and requests, so you can message me your ideas via Tumblr if you'd like me to give it some thought.
What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)
