I was feeling really sad so obviously I updated so that all of you can feel my pain. You're welcome.
This chapter was supposed to be about Dean and Roman but then I watched the video for the actual timeline and saw lots of Dean and Seth interaction so why not.
Maybe Roman will make an appearance in the next chapter.
Dean returns to the company's building three hours later, just missing the first hour of taping, but no one seems to care because he's Dean Ambrose and he'll do whatever the fuck he wants, thank you very much.
He cuts a damn good impromptu promo, too, coming on camera to say what he wants to say; what's been eating at his skin, at his bones for the past few weeks. Sure, his job is at risk, and it's about all he lives for these days, but he knows the fans will eat it up, and that's what really matters to the higher-ups.
The ratings. The sales. The reactions.
Not the emotional or mental stability of their roster.
But by now, Dean's long used to looking after himself.
He disguises his complaints by fashioning them around William Regal, falsely complaining that the guy won't react to Dean's attempts to call him out, but halfway through there's a tap on his shoulder, and when he turns Seth is standing there, staring at him.
He looks like Dean had never even touched him, and Dean wonders briefly how much makeup they had to put on him to conceal the damage he'd done to their prized champion.
Seth starts verbally attacking him, as should be expected, but Dean's brain forgets how to do anything but stand there and gape at him wordlessly like a dumbass fish.
"You wanted to beat me," Seth says, "but something changed in you, and now you're just crazy."
Well, isn't that the fucking truth.
And when Seth finishes his little speech, topping it off with an insult to his family jewels, Dean purses his lips and offers Seth his best glare. He inspects the title belt that Seth has thrown over his shoulder, Seth's fingers clasped so tightly around its edge that his knuckles are white, like someone's going to steal it from him, and he's not wrong, because Dean knows it's in his immediate future.
Dean nods at the belt, nods at Seth, makes a little 'mm-hmm' sound, like he's stamping the image of Seth as champion into his brain because it's the last time he'll ever see Seth as champion, then walks away, because he's decided he's had enough of Seth for the time being, even though, for some goddamn reason, it hurts to walk away from Seth, hurts like Seth's holding the end of a rope tied around Dean's neck and the more distance between them, the harder it tugs, until Dean's lifeless with the distance.
Dean feels Seth's eyes burning a sharp hole in the back of his head as he walks away, but he misses Seth's smirk that, for a brief second, changes into a fond smile, so brief that only the cameras catch it.
The general manager gives Seth a match against some guy Dean doesn't recognize (really, has he been gone that long? Are they replacing him already?), and since it's a title match it's plainly fucking obvious that Seth's gonna win, because why would they give the title to some nobody (oh wait, they already have, in Seth; Dean thinks they need to stop being such hypocrites). And Seth wins, and the referee's searching for the title belt to give to him, but it's too late for the referee because Dean's already got his hands on it, and he's storming into the ring and approaching Seth.
He shoves the championship at Seth, almost pleased about it because he's gotten his filthy hands on the belt and now it's ruined, but Seth doesn't seem fazed, just grabbing it out of Dean's hands like he's been starved for it for the duration of the twenty-minute match he'd been without it.
"Two weeks," Dean says, trying to ignore how Seth's flushed red with exertion, how his skin is shiny with sweat and he's breathing so hard that he's basically panting, and Dean might be a little turned on.
"You want some of this, huh?" Seth asks, raising the championship above his head, and it's a double-barreled question, and as Dean stares at him, he notes that Seth's pupils are dilated.
Seth steps closer, and so Dean steps closer, because no one, especially not Seth Rollins, is going to one-up him, but now there's not much space between them, and Seth's saying something and it's not registering, and Dean wants to kiss him.
Focus, Dean, focus.
And when he comes back to what the hell's going on, where he is and what he's doing, Seth's gesturing to himself and to Dean and then to the championship, and then Dean remembers.
He has a chance to take the FCW Championship from prissy asshole Seth Rollins.
Oh, this is gonna be good.
Seth leans in, and Dean has to avert his gaze and stare at the base of Seth's neck to avoid giving in and kissing him right here, right now, in the middle of the ring, with the audience and the cameras watching them.
But god, does he want.
He opts for an awkward pat of the title belt, which is once more draped over Seth's shoulder, and then he walks away and gets his ass out of the ring, because he's not sure he'll be able to resist the urge that's come over him much longer.
He loves wrestling, he really does, but he never wanted this.
He never wanted to love—no, not love, it's not love, it's not—someone.
Want. That's the word he's looking for.
Not love. He knows he's incapable of giving that, and unworthy of receiving it.
He never wanted to want someone, never wanted to miss someone, never wanted to spend nights lying in his shitty bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about someone, wondering how they were and what they thought about him.
He just came here to make a name for himself, but now in his hypothetical situation he's got not one, but two someones, and he doesn't think he wants to give a shit about either one of them, because one's a bitch and the other one can't make up his damn mind, and he's Dean Ambrose and he doesn't need anyone.
Doesn't want anyone.
Doesn't love anyone.
He doesn't.
