I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
This chapter is rated M for a number of reasons.
Sleepless Night
The couch wasn't bad as far as couches go.
He had slept on worse.
And to sleep here on the couch meant several things.
One, he was away from Norma and her ever present World of the Weird dysfunction.
Two, he was away from Norman and his ever present World of the Weird dysfunction.
And three and most important, he was near Emma.
Emma.
Dylan contentedly tucked a hand behind his head as he lay on his back, handmade scrap quilt covering him.
And stared up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face.
He loved her.
She completed him.
And not because she was some weird mini version joke of him like in 'Austin Powers'.
Or disturbing like Norma and Norman.
She was just herself.
Stronger, braver, better than he could ever think about being.
He loved her.
She was . . .
"Emma?"
. . . here.
Standing just inside the doorway to the living room.
One hand on the frame.
Looking at him.
"Hey," he murmured into the darkness. "You okay?"
"Yeah," came the quiet reply. "I'm fine."
Letting go of the doorframe, she moved toward him on quiet, quick feet.
He raised up on one elbow.
"What's up?"
Enough light shone in through the window from the streetlight he could see her smiling face, though her dark eyes remained in shadow.
"Me and you."
Reaching him, she knelt and sat astride him on the couch.
"Whoa, Emma, hang on . . ."
Her night shirt was long enough to be modest except she wore no bottoms, only the thin silky fabric of her underwear separating him from-
"Emma, wait-"
She bent low over him, catching his lips with her own.
"Emma, stop," he muttered. "This isn't safe. You could . . . hurt . . . yourself."
Hungrily seeking out his tongue. Drawing back only enough to reply.
"It's okay, Dylan."
Her hands pulling at the drawstring and waistband of his sleep pants.
"Emma-"
And Dylan had never really practiced saying 'no' to women before.
"Emma, wait-"
Bradley Martin had been about the only one.
"It's okay, Dylan. Trust me."
But this was Emma.
And he had waited a long time for her.
And she said it was okay.
And he wanted her so much.
So much.
So he stopped talking.
Sitting up so he could reach her easier.
Hands gliding up her thighs, over her hips.
And skimming her sides under her sleep shirt.
Tossing it away into the dark as they pulled each other closer.
Thanks to the staples, the good doctors had suggested she refrain from wearing a bra for another week or so to keep from rubbing the sensitive incision site.
And her breasts were as perfect as he dreamed they would be.
He lavished attention on them as she moaned and clutched at his head, dug her nails into his scalp.
"Dylan . . . Dylan . . ."
But then her tone changed.
"Dy . . . lan . . ."
Something was going wrong.
He pulled back, looking into her face.
Which was frozen in agony, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
No sound anymore.
Her eyes were bulging, facial muscles twitching.
"Emma!"
He didn't know if he said it or not, shouted or whimpered.
But suddenly the room was filled with light.
Too bright for his eyes, yet he could not close them as Will DeCody stood at the bottom of the stairs.
"What happened?! What have you done?!"
As Dylan stared horror-struck at the girl he loved in his lap.
Topless.
Pouring blood down her torso from the stapled red line just below her ribs.
Covering his hands in crimson.
"Dylan! Dylan! What did you do?!"
Dylan couldn't answer the distraught father. Only stare helplessly.
At her.
Emma.
Eyes beginning to roll back in her head, tongue lolling out.
Two lung-shaped blotches of blood forming on her chest, those perfect breasts he had been most adamantly enjoying just moments ago.
"I, I, I didn't do anything!" He protested weakly. "I didn't- she said - it would be okay!"
Her upper torso separating from her lower half with a sickening sucking sound.
Completely detaching, beginning to slide to the floor as he desperately struggled to hold her body together.
"Dylan! What have you done?!"
Unable to process, unable to think-
Nonononono-
"I- I- I didn't- mean-"
And Dylan jerked out of his dream so hard he nearly fell off the DeCodys' couch.
Sweat pouring, chest gasping for air.
Godohgodohgodohgod-
Scrambling to the lamp beside him.
Nearly knocking it over and breaking it in the process.
The bulb flaring into eye squinting view-
Nononono-
- an empty room.
No screaming British father.
No dying, mutilated girlfriend.
No pools of thick, spreading blood.
Just Dylan Massett.
In his sleep pants and rumpled shirt.
Blinking terror out of his eyes.
And trying not to throw up.
Emma?
He stood shakily, stomach churning.
Clenching and unclenched clammy fists.
And willing his pounding heart to regulate.
It's okay, it's okay, she's okay, it's okay.
He couldn't quite convince himself and he realized he had to pee anyway.
So he crept up the stairs to the bathroom.
The flush seemed louder than usual in the sleeping midnight house.
But when he stepped out of the bathroom, Will Decody was still snoring.
And he was alone.
He walked as quietly as he could down the short hall.
Stopped at Emma's door.
Reminding himself he was not going to wake her up like a child when she needed rest to heal.
Still, he stood where he was.
Listening. Peering in.
Trying to see in the dark.
Make sure she was okay.
The light was dim but he could just make out her form in the narrow bed.
Lying on her back, the only comfortable position for her.
He thought she was breathing.
Couldn't be sure.
And then he heard her.
". . . pie for Thanksgiving. Dylan, get me the pecans . . ."
He grinned.
She was okay.
Alive.
Breathing.
Not in pain.
And dreaming about him.
And Thanksgiving.
Okay.
And he finally relaxed.
Leaned his head against the doorframe in weak relief.
She's okay.
Then he made himself move.
Quietly descend the staircase.
Turn off the side lamp.
And lay back down on the couch.
Cover up.
And stare at the ceiling.
That is the worst sex dream I've ever had.
And that includes the one about Carrie Fisher in 'Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back'.
It was a long time before he slept again.
'Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back'. Oh lord, my husband will be so proud of that movie reference when I tell him.
*facepalm*
So anyway, thanks to Lana Brown for reviewing. I really hope you're enjoying it. I've got loads of chapters waiting to post.
Thanks also to BateShot39 for adding your support to this tale. :)