Sorry guys, it doesn't get any better than this. I've tried. Just like I'm gonna try to get my muse back. Thanks to all who have commented and/or left a prompt suggestions. I hope you guys can wish for anything, even if it doesn't have anything to do with this universe. Anytime, any place =)
(Holy shit, I forgot to put in the trigger warnings last night. I'm sorry! There's a panic attack and vomiting in this chapter. I hope it's not too late for some of you.)

Breathe, Dean, breathe God damn it!

The fuck got into him tonight?

He had been so well prepared for this match, had cut a pretty good promo – if he might say so himself – beforehand, and went down to the ring with a game plan: get your hands on the cowardly ninja and show the Big Red Old-timer to better keep his fucking hands off of what's yours.

It had all sounded perfect in his head. He knew he'd have no chance in hell in a handicap match against those two, but that didn't mean he'd go down without a fight.

Using that steel chair the exact same way Seth did almost two months ago – June 2nd, he destroyed your family on June 2nd, his mind still provides him with the one information Dean would very much like to finally forget – hadn't been his intention, but by now he thinks it adds a nice touch to their feud. Something the fans can mull over until Raw.

But that's not the thing making his skin crawl at the moment. Nor is he pissed that Seth hid behind Kane's back, as predicted, until Dean was down and vulnerable. His brother is a very good and believable heel, he's actually a little bit proud of him.

No, the thing seizing up his chest and making him pace the hotel room right now – and also keeping Roman from getting his sleep – is the complete and utter shit he said in the ring. He got carried away in a moment that meant next to nothing to him. Admittedly, getting his hands on Seth felt awfully good but he still knows that at Summerslam he'll have a one-on-one match and his baby brother better prepares for that confrontation because Dean won't go easy on him.

Not only to keep this stupid charade going – he honestly couldn't care less about that crap; it's only that Seth wants to do this, wants to bring down the Authority from within and he can't deny that idiot even the dumbest wish – but also to get his payback.

Because after everything Seth has put him and Roman through, from turning on them to forcing his brothers to still battle those boring snobs on their own now, Dean yearns for settling the score. He wants to get revenge for all the sneaky attacks, for his friend costing Dean match after match, for making him fall for Seth all over again. As if once wasn't bad enough.

That's probably the most important reason he wants to pummel his little brother straight into hell. And that's also why he feels trapped in this room, only able to walk restlessly from wall to wall to not jump at one and claw his way out of here. He's not sure where he would go afterwards, but he needs to run free to get rid of all the nervous energy clogging up his mind and body.

Roman is lying in bed, pillow resting on his face, so he can block out the annoying light. His brother hasn't left that mattress since they arrived and Dean assumes he also hasn't moved in the time he was away working his match on Smackdown. Randy got him pretty good on Monday. Dean has seldom seen his best friend so beaten down and battered.

He had to restrain himself so much today to not walk up to that jerkface and take him apart, sending a little message on his own. He didn't though, because the pack leader had given him a very clear order: stay away from my prey.

He thought Monday had been hard, being backstage in that dark hallway, watching on his phone how his brother received the beating of a lifetime, but the truth is tonight had been so much worse. Without Roman being there to warn him not to get involved, he was so close to ignoring that demand and forget all about Seth and their match, eager to let Randy pay for what he did to his family.

But in the end, he just listened to The Venomous Viper – ugh – rambling about his blown title chance and other ludicrous bullshit, while texting Roman to get his thoughts on the challenge of the so called top tier predator.

If he wants a piece of me, he can get it, Roman had replied, making Dean smile even though he was still pumped up and angry. But he better realize he's chewing off more than he can swallow.

All of this is for and because of Seth.

Dean swallows hard – trying in vain to get rid of the massive lump in his throat –, tugs his hair and scoffs loudly, sitting down on the bed just to get up again. Even when he's not here, everything still revolves around that moron.

Roman heaves a long-suffering sigh, throwing the pillow on his face at Dean. 'Seriously, what's wrong? Either please talk about it or turn the lights off.' Dean picks up the cushion from the ground and watches it for a split second abstractedly before he grabs both end and rips it apart. Roman rolls his eyes at him, both of them following the feathers falling down without saying another word.

'Maybe I should get you a stress ball,' his brother suggests after a while, smiling faintly and hissing in pain when he tries to get up. Dean walks around the bed and pushes him gently down again. No need for him to clean up this particular mess of his too. Collecting the feathers should be his task; it will give his hands something to do while he shares his thoughts with Roman.

'I said I loved him.'

Said might not be the right word. He has yelled it at Seth, trapping his baby brother in the corner of the ring, gripping his head tightly to swing him around. His mouth had been moving on its own accord, spilled the one secret Dean had never wanted to be revealed in front of the whole world.

His feelings for Seth are part of his private life and he's always been reluctant to share that with others; even his own family.

'I heard,' Roman replies, eyebrows drawn up quizzically, like he can't fathom why that is such a big deal. Really, how can he not see this? Dean has never said the l-word to Seth, not in a serious way at least. He only ever spit it in his brother's face to make him realize that those feelings have died down since the betrayal.

Which is so much horse shit that it's unbelievable that Seth hasn't seen through his lie yet, especially since he claims to know Dean better than anyone.

The only reason why he is so eager to make Seth pay, why he won't leave Seth's side no matter what, why he takes on every challenge the Authority throws at him and plays by his friend's rules for the past few weeks is because he has these intense feelings for him.

Otherwise he wouldn't give a flying fuck about the alleged betrayal. He has never liked any kind of business partners anyway.

Dean lets go of the feathers again and dashes into the bathroom to get the bin. As soon as he's back at Roman's side, he throws his hands up, not quite sure where to put all that excess adrenaline keeping him wide awake and also on the verge of a panic attack.

'No, you don't understand,' he emphasizes, tossing the feathers and the torn pieces of the pillow into the white trash can. 'I screamed at him that I loved him.' It's the fucking biggest problem he's ever had to face. Okay, well, even he knows that that's not true, but it damn well feels like it is and he won't ever get some sleep as long as this isn't sorted out.

Roman groans annoyed and takes his gray shirt off, getting rid of the last layer of cloth that could rub over his bruised skin. 'What's the big deal? You already told him that a few weeks ago.' True. But back then it was to kick someone in the jewels who was already lying defeated on the ground. He had wanted to prove to Seth that his brother had toyed with him one too many times and that he had ruined everything.

Tonight though, he said it because it was the only thing his mind was screaming at him. And that's some scary shit right there. He doesn't want his emotions messing with him in the worst way.

Dean climbs on the bed to face Roman. It is very important that his big brother understands this on his own because he won't ever find the right words to explain it. 'Ro, you don't get it. This is different.'

'How?' Fuck if I know. Okay, okay, he needs to calm down. Just keep on breathing, you're doing great. No need to take this out on Roman. He can make him figure it out. And then his brother can – has to – tell Dean that it's no big deal. That he managed to spill only the past form of the dreaded word and nothing will happen because of it.

That he's going to be alright and absolutely nothing will change between him and Seth. That a simple I loved you, Seth, you were my buddy isn't that bad because it was in the heat of the moment and it means jack shit. It was just another remark that adds fuel to their feud, nothing that will make anyone realize just how lost Dean is without Seth by his side.

Right? Roman better say all those words to him afterwards or he's going to lose his mind.

'It was so easy,' he starts, hands flying around to not touch his brother – he has already tried that yesterday when he wanted to support him while getting out of the car, hurting Roman more than he did any good. 'Like, easier even than telling those chicks I used to bang that I loved them.'

He frowns a second when his voice takes a dive into the bottomless pit of sarcasm constantly growing inside of him, making him spit out the word as if just saying it will burn his throat. Roman doesn't even care about the tone. He just clears his throat with a disapproving glare, showing him how undeniably tired he is of Dean berating women whenever he's out of his mind. Old habits just die hard, holy hell, give him some time.

'What?' he snarls, already starting to hide behind his aggression because he's feeling a little bit attacked by Roman's staring. 'I changed.' And he really has.

He was way worse back in the days, especially during his stay in Puerto Rico, when he had been taking hard drugs. He has had a rough time – more like a couple of them – before he met Seth and Roman and he needed a while to realize that the, well, role models he had in his childhood were not good or appropriate ones. Dean took his sweet time until he was able to respect others the way they deserve it.

Roman squirms around a bit, trying to get comfortable, which does not stop him from giving Dean one hell of a criticizing gaze. 'And who do we have to thank for that?' his partner in crime points out totally unnecessarily. As if he needs another reminder that Seth is the fucking essence of his life.

'Oh come on,' he tries to play this matter down at all costs, even smacks Roman on the arm just to be on the safe side. The following wince gets drowned out by his overhasty lie. 'I didn't want to be a better man just for him.' He is not a better man because of Seth Rollins.

God, he can pretend all he wants to, Dean has changed for and because of him. Not even his brother is giving him a break, furrowing his brows expectantly, shamelessly sassing him with an, 'Oh really?'

'Shut up,' Dean breathes out, seriously getting frustrated here. He doesn't like to talk about Seth making him want to be worth it. This is about Dean spilling the beans in front of all those people and his inability to deal with his feelings for their baby brother. 'Point is, it was too easy. And I did it in front of the whole world.'

Roman just shrugs, obviously still not getting it. Or he just doesn't care in his current state. Maybe he's also too burned out to deal with Dean overreacting because of something he has already said to Seth anyway. Oh, how he wishes that Roman's brooding calmness could soothe him right now too. It usually works but he guesses he's too far gone to even let his friend quiet him down.

'Shit happens, Dean. He won't think you hate him. Seth knows you better than that,' Roman does his best to talk some sense into him, but he still won't understand what Dean is desperately trying to tell him.

He is perfectly aware that Seth knows he's very fond of him. Otherwise he wouldn't even try so damn hard to get him back.

'That's not it,' he whispers, suddenly very self-conscious which is such an odd and unwelcome feeling. He is sick of this conversation already, even though he hasn't even made his point yet. This whole night will haunt him forever which is why he should forget it as soon as possible.

Roman sighs quietly and sits back up, just so he can look Dean in the face, knowing full well that this will – sooner or later – anchor him. Brown eyes have always done the trick for him, which is also the reason for him disliking Roman's contact lenses so much. Even though they have a pretty mind-blowing color.

'Then what is the problem?' his friend asks patiently, nodding to the free space next to him to indicate that Dean should sit down and just relax for a second. Together they can sort this out, like they always do.

But there's electricity running through his veins, the lump in his throat growing with each passing minute and his heartbeat is stuttering its way to a cardiac arrest. Knowing himself he's way past the point where he can be brought back by Roman.

Dean needs to pull off one of his disappearing acts as soon as possible. He doesn't want to let it all out on his best friend, wants to protect him from his own wrath. No, scratch that, he needs to do it, just like he has always done.

They haven't seen the seriously damaged part of him yet and he can't let his family meet it either. They would look at him differently and that's the last thing he can handle right now.

But he can't just get up and run away, leaving Roman worried and forcing him to crawl out of bed to search for him. No, he'll keep his game face on as long as he is able to, end this conversation – and make some fucking sense while he's at it – and then he will leave this place to get away from all of this.

He can do this. He's fooled the people around him before, smiled at them when on the inside he felt like he was dying right in front of their eyes. It's not fair to do it with Roman too, but Dean can only tackle one problem at a time.

And he really wants to deal with this one on his own.

Roman is watching him calmly, a smile plastered on his face, so he appears non-threatening and in a good temper. They're both playing a game right now, but sadly it's not the same one.

'If that slipped out so easily, how can I be sure I'll never drop the bomb?' There. He said it. This is his real problem. The fucking word love. He's stumbled over that so many times in his life, couldn't even think it without wanting to rip his tongue out – and actually trying once a few years ago. He just threw up in the end, but it made him realize that he has a serious issue with deep-rooted affection in general.

That's why he's never been able to tell Roman how much he cherishes him. That man means the world to him, is his brother in arms, best friend and soulmate in one. The only family he has. But he still can't express his feelings other than through actions.

With Seth, it's different. Dean has never had the wish to hear those three words in a relationship, was always pretty damn sure he isn't one of those people who love to gush about their chosen ones or feelings for that person.

But Seth telling him over and over and fucking over again that he loves Dean more than he has ever loved anyone, more than he ever thought he could and how he would die for Dean in a heartbeat, is slowly changing everything.

To say he's confused would be the understatement of the century. And fuck, he loathes feeling like this. Why can't this whole thing be as uncomplicated as the relationship he shares with Roman? He doesn't need an I love you like Seth, which is why Dean feels so comfortable and at ease at his side.

'Would it be so bad?' Roman questions, clapping him gently on the shoulder to show him he'll support Dean no matter what. Would it be so bad? How can he even ask that? He should know better than anybody that Dean isn't ready for this crap. Sometimes he's not even sure if he will ever be, but if anyone manages to get through to him, it's Seth.

'Yes,' he grits out, shrugging Roman's hand off because it's starting to burn him. His whole skin is prickling painfully, like it's on fire and he can't even touch himself to make it stop – it would just make it worse and he'd end up trying to peel the layer of flesh off of him. He's been there before.

'I'm not the oh God, I need to let the world know how I feelguy and revealing that part of my life in front of all those people? You can bet your ass on the fact that it would be so bad,' he mocks Roman's accent and gets up again. His chest is impossibly tight but he can thankfully still use his lungs somewhat regularly.

It's pretty hard though and he's practically squeezing air through them whenever his brother doesn't look, but he might just be able to control this one long enough to hide it from Roman.

All he needs to do is keep on breathing and not allow himself to think about all the consequences those three words would have.

Roman is obviously fed up with this whole thing; probably thinks they should finally move on but it's not that simple. It's not like he wants to drag this on just to delay a definite decision – and he knows that it would end with Seth being back in their lives one way or another anyway. He's not a fucking coward.

It's just that he can'tlet Seth back in. It's still too early to trust him yet again. All it takes for Dean to completely break is one more setback. Only one little thing going wrong and he'll shatter completely.

It doesn't matter how perfectly he wears his good-humored mask in front of others, the fact of the matter is that Dean's mind is fractured – go ahead and call him unstable – and he needs some time to fix this first.

His own body betraying him like this in front of the whole world is not something he can deal with right now on top of everything else. Not when his brain feels like it's melting inside of his head and his heart is hammering so wildly that every beat physically hurts him.

'Then tell him before that happens.'

He's pretty sure Roman would die instantly if looks could kill. Yeah, right, make it sound so easy when in reality it's the biggest step of Dean's life. He was ready to give Seth a chance before and look what happened, where that got him. He's having more issues because of all this than he had before.

'You're not helping,' he barks out, not even sorry anymore that he's putting the blame on the wrong guy and that this will just lead to a fight between him and Roman if he doesn't get his voice under control.

'Well, I'm tired and bruised and,' his friend starts, still somehow able to not sound pissed off or saddened, but whatever he wanted to say gets drowned out by Dean's cell alerting him that he got a text.

There are only two people writing him these days and one of them is watching him with an almost fatherly expression that helps Dean take a deep breath before he checks his phone.

What is it with you and steel chairs nowadays?

Isn't it obvious? First of all, steel chairs are the preferred tools to turn on your allies, brothers, partners, or whoever you can betray in this business. And second, Dean is only giving Seth a taste of his own medicine. Don't tell him he doesn't like that nostalgic touch.

Even though his fingers are shaking – and he has to turn away from Roman to not show him how fast his mind and body are spiraling towards an anxiety attack – he manages to smile while typing the same message three times to get it out without any mistakes.

Asks the one who began and ended everything with one. Weapon of choice, darling.

When Roman lies back down, sighing contently as soon as nothing hurts anymore, Dean puts on his shoes as quietly as possible. He's still hell-bent on getting out of this prison they call a motel room. Walking it off seems like the best option to deal with his hazed mind. Because being stuck here with Roman leaves only one possibility and Dean isn't very fond of that.

He won't hurt his brother, no matter what. Roman has already gone through so much, he doesn't need to be let down by Dean too.

You okay? Did Kane hurt you?

Oh, that's what he wants to talk about? Chaperone Kane? Not about the confession Dean made in the ring, because that is all he can think about ever since those words left his mouth.

Nah, 'm fine. He was real gentle.

Which is even true. That was the first match with Kane that didn't hurt badly. But Dean is not sure if that is because his whole body turned to stone the moment he spilled one of his biggest secrets or because Kane really treated him with the utmost care.

Having that goof on their side proved, at least for tonight, to be a good decision. Dean has to admit that he has no clue what Seth wants with him and why he had to go so far to promise Kane his brother back – like, it's not even Seth's job to fix the problems of other families. He has enough of his own to sort out first.

But not getting the shit kicked out of him tonight and even being able to get some retaliation for all the things Kane has done to him before he was playing on their team felt damn good. He has needed his time to get used to Kane being part of this conspiracy – though he's still not trusting the other explicitly – but he's glad Seth isn't all alone in the Authority anymore.

He has Roman, so it's just fair that there is someone at Seth's side too whenever his real family can't be there for him. His phone chimes again, eliciting a bothered groan from Roman. Time for Dean to wrap this up. Roman needs to sleep and recover while Dean has to get out of here before he explodes.

You weren't. Are you still pissed because of the room sharing thing?

Every time he thinks he is over it, someone has to remind him of that yet again. Of course he is. Why shouldn't he? He's not only mad about it, he's also jealous. And that's even worse. Because... because... it's like admitting–

No.

He won't let that get to him now too. His mind is already on fire, burning every last shred of his common sense in no time. It's probably Seth's fault anyway, whispering against his lips last Thursday how he loves him. How dare that jerk throwing that shit at him when all he'd wanted was to have a good time?

And it hasn't even been a relieved I love you or a bashful one. Those would've been bad, no doubt about it, but no. Seth had to ruin everything by telling him these cursed three words in this heartfelt, tender way that made his blood freeze and short-circuited his brain.

Roman interfering in that very moment saved him from having a nervous breakdown in front of both his brothers. But that didn't stop Dean from locking himself in the bathroom some time later, sliding down the door to relieve the pressure on his wobbly legs and banging his head against his drawn up knees.

Seth being so overly expressive really is a big problem for Dean. He's never been good with handling other people's emotions or his own. They're either smothering him, belittling him or making him feel worthless as fuck.

Roman has his eyes closed, and even though there is a tiny frown on his forehead – because this conversation is not over in his book yet – Dean knows that his brother isn't in the constitution to have this debate tonight. Which is more than fine with him. He's reaching the end of his rope, can already feel how he's losing control over his limbs again.

He needs a dark lonesome corner to hide in and have his panic attack, so it's finally over and he can move on to more pressing matters.

Dean is getting agitated again, his insides are melting and his mind won't stop spinning. He's sure that this time he won't be able to keep the tears away. A panic attack that has such a long time to assault him, such a long built-up, will leave him completely devastated.

It won't be pretty which is the main reason he has to go, to shield himself and Roman from whatever lies beneath his people mask. First he has to brush off Seth, because he can't worry about him too. There's already enough shit hitting the fan in his head because of that guy.

Everyone knows he is your weak spot, you have lost it out there, man. Way to go. Oh, fuck Seth and fuck his brain too. He is so done with this crap.

Leave me alone.

It's not really nice to end this so rudely, but his time is running out faster than he estimated. 'You should get some rest. I'll take a hike before I'll go to bed.'

Roman opens his eyes again, ready to scrutinize him, so Dean dashes forward and turns off the lights before his best friend realizes how terribly he is shaking and how hard he is biting down on his cheek to draw some blood; the taste alone keeping him grounded for the time being.

He can hear some rustling of fabric and a light tapping of Roman's fingers over the wall to find the switch, but Dean just bats his hand away. Now that he's in the darkness, he has already let go of some of the tension, sweat covering his face and a single line of blood running down his chin.

His brother clears his throat, asking wearily, 'You sure? We can talk about Seth some more. You know I'm always here for you.' Of course he does. That's what friends and family are for. He would do the same for Roman too. But Dean is the one not able to have this talk about their kid brother. He's ready to freak out and break down, but that's all he's gonna do tonight.

'Yeah I do and thanks, but you need to rest. It's okay.' Wow, he's horrible at lying whenever there's a panic attack lurking in the shadows and waiting for him. Roman has no trouble seeing through his lie, letting out a soft, 'Dean.'

It's like his brothers joined forces to attack him, because Seth choses this moment to text him again, using the same tone Roman just did.

Dean please, don't be like this. Don't shut yourself off again.

No, they don't understand. He has to do this, to protect them from the monster inside of him. Ugh, it sounds so cheesy when he says it like this, but people have left him after seeing the darker side and he won't lose his family one more time. He might sound mad, brushing people off like that, but he doesn't have any energy to be polite anymore.

I said leave me alone.

In this case, defense is way better than offense and Dean has learned to retreat before he wears his heart on his sleeve again, admitting in front of everyone that he... oh, for God's sake. He's about to crash his mind and lungs because of that, so he might as well call it like he sees it. That he lovesSeth Rollins.

In the beginning it was so hard to even just thinkthat and now that he got used to the past form – he's apparently even so accustomed to it that he shared it with the whole fucking universe – it's getting easier to imagine a time and place to say it into Seth's face.

But he can't. He fucking can't.

It's making him vulnerable, weak and defenseless. He can definitely not open his heart for Seth once more. But shutting himself away for the sake of escaping Seth also makes him turn his back on Roman and his brother doesn't deserve this.

No matter how much he might want it, there's nothing he can do about it right now. He should be on his way already. Every second he spends here, he puts Roman and their relationship in danger.

Dean fumbles his way around in the darkness to find his leather jacket when Ro's phone rings, telling him that Seth has just took the easy way and went to their big brother instead of trying to reason with Dean. Smart. What a shit head.

Gladly, Roman understood that Dean prefers to keep the lights out, so he just reads the message – Dean can see him pout a bit while his eyes move over the tiny display – and waits for the cell phone to leave them in the darkness again before he addresses him.

'He asks if he can come over.' No. He means, yes, that's definitely something Seth would write. As if Dean could handle both of his brothers with him here right now. But there is no way on earth that that's all Seth had to say. Not with the way Roman's face contorted mere seconds ago.

He can imagine the text as if he got it himself. It's definitely something along the lines of Rome, I fear I did something wrong and now Dean's all, well, super Dean-y, retreating back into himself and I'm sorry if that ruined your evening. I'm just really worried about him. He's been acting weird ever since last Thursday and tonight was kinda nuts too. Help? Maybe I can come over? Please. Pretty please!

Acting weird. That's their not so secret code for Dean's more erratic mood swings because they have no clue how else to name it.

Roman can tell Seth whatever he wants, Dean won't be here even in case he agrees to let him crash in their bed. But his brother is more considerate than that, giving Dean the option to decide for himself. 'It's your call. What do you want me to do?'

And isn't that the million dollar question? If only Dean would know what he wants.

There's still the promise he gave Seth last Friday – and boy, didn't his brother fight like a stubborn child to not get trapped in the Walls of Jericho? – but he can't see that happening any time soon. It just doesn't feel right at the moment.

Dean wants that favor, whatever he will choose to grant Seth in the end, to be something special, something that shows his brother how much he needs him in his life. What he doesn't want is that granted wish to happen thanks to him yelling at Seth in the ring that he loved him just because he is hurting, confused and disappointed that his friend won't face him like a man.

And because Seth has the gift to crash through his defensive walls without even trying to, tearing them down to leave him emotionally naked and at the mercy of his brother.

There is only one possible answer to Roman's question right now and even if it's crude to treat his best friend like that, he can't stay here to dwell on the aftermath of his actions. If he won't leave in this instant, he's gonna come apart at the seams in front of his family's watchful eyes.

He's not ready for that yet.

So Dean slams the door behind him and rushes out into the dark and starless night, looking around frantically to find a nice, shady corner where he can collapse. Unfortunately, his legs won't even carry him any further than their rental car, so he fishes for the key in his jeans pocket, fingers shaking so badly that he drops the damn thing five freaking times before he inadvertently scratches the lacquering while opening the lock.

He dives into the car, throwing himself on the backseat and latches all doors again before hell finally breaks loose. He's held on for a surprisingly long time but in the end he's nowhere near strong enough to fight his stupid panic attacks off on his own.

His mouth starts to taste like bile acid and somewhere in the depth of his mind a voice yells at him to open the window and puke out of it because Roman will make him clean this shit up no matter what – even if he has to rub Dean's face in it to get him to move.

Dean's fingers don't obey him at the first try and slip off the handle, making him realize they're sweaty as hell. Judging by the little droplets that fall down on the seat underneath him, he's practically leaking, but the worst thing is that he's not entirely sure it's only sweat. There might be some angry, helpless tears mixed in between.

He manages to open the damn window just in time, because as soon as he has dragged his body up to the hole he's heaving, spilling the contents of his stomach on the asphalt, some of it splashing against the car. Maybe Roman won't notice.

Dean can't tell how long he's hanging there, retching violently until even his lungs start to burn. When he sags back onto the seat the real ordeal is just beginning. It's like he's having two anxiety attacks at once. The one that is a direct result of the I loved you, Seth and the one he didn't have last week after his brother confessed his own feelings unasked.

Maybe he's so rattled because Seth makes it sound so simple, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Just as it has been for himself tonight. And Dean is not prepared for it to be like this.

He's writhing in pain in the back of the car, coughing and wheezing and slamming his hands on the leather repeatedly but it's not enough pain to make it stop. Dean is distantly aware that he is screaming, hands angrily wiping away the wet streaks on his face before he climbs out of the open window and barely evades falling into his own vomit.

His vision is blurry and he's staggering around the parking lot, standing still every so often to try and catch his breath – which is impossible at the moment. Pain. He needs to kick-start his brain again by inflicting so much physical agony that it drowns out everything else.

Light suddenly blinds him and he realizes with a new surge of panic that Roman has turned it on in their room, probably limping his way to the door to check on him. Dean really hates it when he starts yelling during his attacks, because it attracts so much unwanted attention.

He stumbles out of his brother's sight, his knees giving out more than once, so he's forced to drag himself along on all fours, finally finding a secluded spot behind the motel. Before he goes to search for something to hurt himself, he just lies down for a second, gasping and panting for his dear life, his thoughts running wild in his head.

There's the constant replay of his words from tonight, taunting him with their finality. He has admitted it yet again, has given Seth what he wanted. And he did it in front of millions of people, handing out the only ammunition to fatally wound him.

And then there's Roman asking him would it be so bad over and over again. Seth changed Dean for the better, made him see brighter colors, spread his wings and fly so he could touch the sky. There's nothing in this world he can't face with Seth by his side.

The answer to all of it is right there, he knows that even though his mind forces his body to collapse into a wheezing mess, suffocating him to the point of passing out. He is already experiencing what it's like to love Seth. Dean is just afraid of what would happen if he lets Seth back in and gets let down once more.

He's not even able to imagine the good things that could also happen because he's convinced he doesn't deserve them.

Okay, this is ridiculous. He's dying out here, lying on the damp grass, the combined taste of blood and bile making him want to barf again. And to make thins worse, Dean's lungs seem to crumble after being forced to function without any actual air for too long. He needs to end this before it's too late, so he crawls back to the wall to punch it as hard as he can.

Each strike represents another secret he never wanted to admit to anyone, another weakness of his, something else Seth has effortlessly accomplished.

I need you. I want you. You changed me. I need you to breathe, so reach down and pull me up, pull me out before I am buried beneath. You scare me. I can't live without you. You saved me. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Dean heedlessly throws punch after punch to get rid of those truths until his knuckles hurt badly and he can see blood running over his skin, the sight alone calming the raging monster inside of him. His thoughts quiet down to a low murmur, the frightened part of him slowly drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

He keeps on hitting the wall, fully intending on breaking his fingers, losing time in the process. When he comes to his senses again he can't move a muscle in his hands, but he can inhale and exhale evenly, his mind rebooting itself to tell him that he has to risk something in this relationship, regardless of the outcome.

No risk, no fun.

He has lived by this code for so long, Dean really can't understand why he got so cautious after Seth walked out on him in March. Okay, no, that's a lie. It's because he's afraid of getting hurt, of losing the one person he cannot lose, no matter what, of looking back at all of this only to realize he's made a huge mistake.

As long as he still doubts Seth's honesty, he can't take the leap of faith.

Dean leans his back against the wall, not caring that blood and little bits of his skin get stains on his jacket and just breathes in the crisp night air with a tired smile on his lips. So, every time he has the same epiphany – how he really feels for that backstabbing idiot – or hears Seth saying those dreaded words, he's going to freak out.

Honestly? He can dig that. Because one day, he'll listen to Seth murmur I love you and the only thing he's able to do is say it right back. One day, it won't make him want to ditch his own skin and run for his life.

There a high-pitched sound interrupting his exhausted train of thoughts, making Dean furrow his brows in confusion. He thought he had left his phone behind in his room, but it seems like he took it with him. Maybe to call for help, if he wouldn't be able to get this whole thing under control.

It's Seth once again, that stubborn scumbag.

I'm gonna make it up to you on Raw, I already have a plan. Hunter will love it, you will definitely love it.

For fuck's sake, can he stop using the cursed word? That stupid little brat. Rub it in, jerk, rub it in.

Whatever I did this time

For the love of everything that is holy, stop apologizing, Dean thinks, already getting mad again. Seth hasn't done anything. At least not tonight. It was all Dean. Why is no one getting this?

I'm gonna atone for it! Leave it to me, you'll get your revenge at Summerslam.
And you can unleash yourself on Monday too.
I hereby give you the permission to do whatever pleases you.

Oh no, what is he planning now? Actually, Dean is way beyond the point of caring; finally drained of every last bit of energy he had left after his handicap match. So okay, fine. He'll play along, but only because Seth just carelessly allowed Dean to let out his inner asshole.

Seth will learn to heed the warning be careful what you wish for on Monday night.

He shuts off his phone without answering and watches the leaves of the tress in front of him rustle in the slightly chilly wind, a peaceful smile dancing over his lips.

'Oh God, Dean, really? Another one?' Roman greets him and his little companion, absentmindedly running his fingers over the staples on his forehead. Dean just grins and closes the door behind his friend for tonight, rummaging through his belongings to find some food.

'She followed me,' he explains, frowning at the contents of his suitcase and duffel bag. There is nothing edible in there. Why didn't he think about that before he went back to the motel? His little amigo needs food. Wait, didn't Roman buy some sandwiches earlier?

'You still got some of the chicken stuff left?' Roman huffs, knowing full well that giving her something to eat will make her stay the night. 'We have to leave her behind tomorrow. I hope you haven't forgotten that,' his brother warns him while throwing a small plastic bag at him.

'Then let's be her friends for just one night,' he shrugs. Roman looks at him like he has just seen him for the first time ever and slowly shakes his head after a while.

'You're unbelievable. Fine, let her stay. If she's gonna give us a rash like the last one, I will dump you in the middle of nowhere.' Ah, Dean is sure that this one won't make them sick. She looks totally innocent – but then again, they all do.

He sits down on the bed and baits the silver and black colored cat onto the mattress with some strings of dried chicken. She meows happily, jumping up to him as soon as he has placed the food on the covers.

'By the way,' Roman breaks the silence, throwing his phone at Dean who catches it awkwardly with his right hand. He still can't lift his left arm very high, but with a beautiful cat in their room and the knowledge that he ruined that precious little briefcase earlier he doesn't really give a shit about that anyway.

'You got some texts while you were out collecting strays.' He chuckles lightly and checks his messages. It's not a big surprise that Seth wrote him some pissed off ones – the fuck, man? No need to rip apart my contract or ruin the case with soda and popcorn; you're gonna pay for this, Ambrose – as well as compliments for looking damn fine as a cowboy and for doing things the FCW style again. Gotta love those parallels.

He too has missed the old times when he would pop up at one of Seth's important matches with fast food just to ruin his day. And causing Seth to lose his first match since the breakup to none other than Heath Slater might just be the biggest achievement of his life. The Authority wanted to make it really easy for their poster boy to beat Dean's time, so he thwarted their plans once more.

Dean had warned Seth, but his brother wouldn't listen. Karma is a bitch, sunshine.

There is a new text arriving the exact same moment the cat gets comfortable on his lap after eating all her treats. Her fur is even fluffier than it looks and she's also not starving like most of the strays Dean likes to take care of for the one night he's in town, but that particular cat also isn't exactly a forlorn soul wandering the streets. This beauty belongs to the owner of their motel. Dean has just somehow neglected to tell Roman. Oops.

I know what you want to do for our match at Summerslam, but please, Dean think about it again.
I'm not you. I'm not used to fight to the last breath or in a Death Tournament.
We can have a HIAC match, just not at SS. Please, I'm begging you. Give me more time to prepare for that.

What, is he afraid he might lose his handsome features when Dean is going to rub his face against the unforgiving steel cage? There's no escape in a cell and that's exactly what he wants for their first real big match.

But if Seth is such a chicken, he'll think of something else until Smackdown. He will make damn sure that there is no way Seth can run away from him again. Dean will find a way to keep his brother in the ring with him.

This time he won't fuck up his chance to get his hands on Seth. And he definitely will keep his mouth in check. There is a time and place for everything, but confessing to Seth how fucking lonely and incomplete his life is without his brother – even though Roman is at his side all the time – needs a lot of mental preparation on Dean's side.

Though he can't fool himself anymore. Even he knows that that day will dawn sooner than he wants it to.