Hysteria
By: PhoenixJustice
Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.
Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.
Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins.
Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.
Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I trusted you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."
A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.
A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.
Italics are for texts.
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Chapter Twenty Six - Bonds
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It was funny to him. Very funny. All these people, for all this time, they just didn't get it. There was no pulling them apart.
Remind Roman of his family, not realizing that by trying to put Dean in a different category that they did not understand and would never understand. The word Brother was not one that any of them just threw around. It had weight. It had meaning. The kind of meaning that the Authority would never understand. They pulled and pulled, tried tricks, and failed to realize the obvious.
They were family.
The Authority should have known that Roman would not help Dean in his match. Not because he didn't care about Dean, but because he did care. All he did was care and that was why he wasn't out there. He knew Dean would chew him out an earful if he tried to go out there and help him, but then again they both knew that wouldn't happen. That wasn't just something they did. Now to help each other if they are getting hurt post match? Then yeah, of course he'd be there. He'd be there in a heartbeat. Same for Dean.
He'd never interfere in a match that'd cost Dean so much. It didn't work like that for them. He knew perfectly well that it'd increase the odds for him in his match, but he was willing to accept that. He would never, ever, throw one of his Brothers under the bus just for a slightly better chance in a match.
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He'd never throw a Brother of his under the bus. Wasn't his thing. He could count all the people he legitably trusted on one hand-and they were it. He knew he could trust Roman to not interfere in this match, despite how the odds were not in Dean's favor; Ro knew he'd give him hell for it. Same with Seth, if he could be here (and could help Dean and/or Roman without giving everything away.)
The Authority lived to give all three of them hell (less so for Seth, of course, since they thought he was securely under their thumb), but he expected it. He could take it. Had dealt with much, much, worse in his life, so this? Wasn't a thing. Annoying to no end and, yes, painful at times, but he could handle it. So throw Dolph Ziggler in his path, throw Tyler Breeze in his way, throw Stardust in the mix, even throw Kevin Owens back in his way (a guy who was one of the hardest opponents he had ever dealt with). He'd take all the punishment, the words, the kicks, the hits, the pain, all of it.
He had his eyes on the prize. Not the prize, but the prize. The biggest belt in the game. He had never lost his drive for it, not in all the time he had been around. He may have been distracted along the way a few times, but he had never truly forgotten about it-or the need for it.
Being too laser focused on something always tended to be his downfall.
He hears the pinfall. One...two...three and it takes more than a moment to sink in.
It was gone.
The title he had held onto with such pride, had defended it through hell and back... the Intercontinental Title was gone. Just like that.
He sees Owens leaving down the ramp with it but also doesn't really see it.
He covers his face in his hands for a moment in the ring, unable to help himself. It was too much in a short period of time and he couldn't take it all in.
It was gone.
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It was gone and he knew it was killing Dean. He didn't have to be there in person to know so, didn't have to see the anguish and other emotions on his television screen as Dean sits in the ring to know what he was feeling. It hurts him, deep in his chest, like a little knife wound being twisted a little deeper inside.
It reminded him all too keenly of events that he-they'd all-like to forget. The moment commercial comes on, he is on his phone, his fingers a quick tap tap.
You'll get him in the rematch. He didn't even pin you. You'll kick his ass just like last time. - SR
It takes a few minutes before he gets a reply back, though that does not surprise him. He figured Dean had probably been venting out his anger for awhile before he was calm enough to reply back.
Son of a bitch is going to get payback. Promise you that, Seth. - DA
Hey, don't got to remind me. I saw what you did to him during your last match; he's probably still pulling out splinters from where you sent him through those tables. - SR
Fuck. You're watching, right? Tell me you just heard what they said too. - DA
He had. He got that Owens and Ziggler were having it out, but for an Intercontinental title match between the two already? Dean had been the champion; he was supposed to get a rematch.
What the hell - SR
Right? Authority fucking me over again. Telling you now; when I get ahold of Triple H at Wrestlemania it's not gonna be pleasant. Actually, if the slimy little shit was here now it wouldn't be good for him. Lucky for him he's got his tail between his legs and too afraid of showing up. - DA
Yeah, I saw. He keeps leaving shit to his wife. - SR
...you heard from him lately? - DA
Hunter? No, not actually. Not for awhile. Been mostly dealing with Stephanie (and let me tell you how pleasant that is not.) He seems to be doing some shit on his own. I don't know. Training or something, I'd imagine. - SR
Well if I see him at a gym, I'll send you pics of his stupid big nose when I push it in. :) - DA
Please do. I'll even place it on my fridge. - SR
I'll even get you those crappy little fridge magnets for it. - DA
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It wasn't many people who spoke their mind, face to face with someone, like Paul Heyman had. Had to give him credit for that, considering Roman could easily have made short work of him, especially with no Brock Lesnar in sight. He had to appreciate his honesty, even if he didn't like it.
Tell him about family? Then about Dean, as if that wasn't the same thing? Dean was his best friend, yes, as was Seth, but it was more than that. How did no one other than themselves seem to get it? They were Brothers, an unbreakable bond of family that had withstood things that would tear any other people apart and would continue to be unshakable, unbreakable, would weather everything.
He didn't see the move coming Dean did, at least not enough to stop it from happening at all. He gets out of it and shakes his head at Dean, unable to hold back a grin. "Gonna have to do better than that, Sunday." Dean mouths at him.
He nods at him. They both bring their all to the table and then some and they both knew it. Even if Brock Lesnar wasn't also there as their opponent, they would give everything they could possibly give in the match. Both of them expected that of the other; to give anything less would be insulting, as if they saw the other as not good enough, deserving enough, of all their skill.
It would probably be the biggest battle Roman had ever been in.
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"Ugh. Finally. Feels good to finally get to sit the fuck down." Dean complains, leaning back in his chair, a cold beer to his neck.
"Well you're the one who wanted to be here, so no complaining."
"But it's Iowa. Remind me why the fuck you live in Iowa?"
"I was born here?"
"Okay. Remind why the fuck you still live in Iowa?"
"Less chance of being spotted or the Authority wanting to come visit me unannounced?"
"..."
"...alright, fair point."
"Of course it is."
A sigh. "Why you always gotta be so-so-"
"Amazing?"
"No, that's me. I can prove it to you again if you want." Dean says, a grin on his face, wagging his eyebrows up and down.
"Maybe later, tiger. When Roman's not about to spit out his beer. Or drop the pizza."
"Or be in the same room." Roman suggests, shaking his head in amusement.
He manages to get the pizza down onto the table without incident though.
"But where's the fun in that?"
They all finally get comfortable and it's a pleasant sort of silence for a few minutes as they eat, despite the looming thing hanging above their heads. At least for a few minutes they could forget Seth had to be the Authority's Golden Boy, could forget for a few minutes that Dean and Roman were about to be in the biggest match of their lives-against each other.
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I hope you enjoyed this
Let me know what you thought!
-PhoenixJustice