I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
I Love You
He was walking into something, that was for sure.
Him with his coffee and muffin breakfast offering.
Emma's new meds.
Entering what he had thought was the Decody residence.
Hearing strained, anxious voices.
Wait, what house am I in?
But seeing nothing being thrown or shattered or threatened.
And the voices weren't that raised.
So he guessed they were still them.
And there they were.
Will's usually serious face was, well, more serious.
Emma, on the other hand, unusually stormy looking.
And in the next second, all was made clear.
"Dylan, you can back me up here. Audrey was a mess at the hospital, yeah?"
Oh, uh, well, she seemed alright to me. A little stressed, maybe.
But I have Norma Bates for a mother so-
Emma DeCody's eyes shifted and her dark, seeking gaze thudded down onto Dylan Massett's soul with the weight of falling boulder.
Oh shit.
He could see it in the fall of her facial features.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He had betrayed her confidence.
Crossed a line.
We thought-
No, don't shift blame.
"I didn't want to upset you."
In her best interests at the time, maybe.
But . . .
He could see it in her entire countenance.
You don't have the right to make that decision for me.
She's my mother, not yours.
. . . she was pissed.
And he only hope he could make it right.
Okay, what would my family do?
Deny. Shift blame.
Underhandedly attack one another until somebody freaked out.
Then shout and scream and instigate more drama.
So Dylan did what he had always tried to do in life.
The opposite of whatever his mother and brother would do.
And now he had added, 'whatever Emma would do'.
He stood there for a second.
Handed Will the breakfast.
Barely registered the reassuring pat on the shoulder.
And headed up to her room.
To quietly apologize.
Ask forgiveness.
And talk to her quietly and calmly.
Let her have her say.
And since they had never much argued before . . .
"So basically it doesn't matter how people treat you?"
That's bullshit.
. . . he also took her new meds as a foot in the door.
Audrey's letter Dylan retrieved from Norman's bedroom didn't help in the way he had hoped it would.
It only strengthened Emma's belief that Audrey didn't want her.
Her voice trembling, biting back her pain.
". . . waste time on someone who doesn't want you."
She was hurting.
She was hurting so much.
Based on the letter, what Dylan had found out from the landlord, and all past evidence, Emma believed her mother didn't really want her.
Had only showed up to weddle sympathy and money.
She was probably right.
But who wouldn't want Emma for a daughter? She was sweet and smart and funny and brave and so many other things he couldn't even begin to list.
She's everything, how could anyone not want her?
The mother-daughter bond was supposed to be this really important thing for girls.
He wouldn't know, not being a girl and not having a mother.
Well, Norma.
But she was and never had been any semblance of a good mother.
She tried. Sometimes.
But something was broken inside of her.
Something was sick and twisted and self-destructive.
So he guessed that wasn't a good example.
Of course according to Emma's father, neither was Emma's mother.
Which was a complete crapfest.
But if her mother had been in her life, a good mother, the mother she deserved, Emma probably wouldn't be the person she was.
She would probably be less 'cause people who always had it all never appreciated it like those who didn't.
It was screwed up, complete shit.
Unfair and unreal and stupid.
All the things he accepted from his life.
Not hers.
And she was hurting and he couldn't fix it.
He couldn't fix her stupid mother.
The only thing he could do . . .
"She never really wanted me."
. . . was hold her if she'd let him and let her work it out for herself.
And . . .
"I want you."
. . . tell her how he felt.
And she would eventually. Work it out for herself.
Emma was a freakin' warrior like that.
And he . . .
"I love you."
. . . loved her for it.
For all the ways she was.
He didn't say it to get what he wanted from her.
Which was nothing, by the way.
He didn't say it for future points.
He didn't even say it to hear her say it back.
He said it . . .
I love you.
. . . because he meant it.
Because he wanted to say it.
He'd wanted to say it for a long time.
Said it in his head all the time.
But saying it out loud, the fear of being rejected, even by someone he trusted so absolutely as Emma, that was hard.
So difficult.
What if she didn't feel as much as he did, which was everything?
What if she didn't want someone like him to say it to someone like her?
He had never said it to anyone before.
Never really felt it.
Dared it to feel it.
Until her.
Emma.
Beautiful, vulnerable, strong, gentle Emma.
So it was really difficult for him to allow himself to say it out loud.
But he said it anyway, forced himself to be okay being that vulnerable.
And because he felt it.
And he wanted her to hear it.
So she'd know it.
I love you.
And then he just stayed quiet.
And held her.
Because that's what you did when you loved somebody.
You loved them.
And took care of them.
They eventually fell asleep together like that.
Her on her right side.
Pale oval face finally relaxing into restful reprieve.
Tears drying salty on her cheeks.
Dylan, curled up behind her.
Cradling her with his body.
Protective, loving.
Accepting.
Face buried in her sweet smelling hair.
Longing, rambling diatribe of letter abandoned on the bedside table.
They stayed thus, breathing together.
And when Will woke them for lunch, Emma hugged her father.
Kissed Dylan.
Put the letter away.
And spoke no more about it for a long, long time.
To date myself, I am a grown, mature woman with an almost teenager in the house. And I had the happiest smile on my face when he told her he loved her.
I still do.
Thanks to Lana Brown for reviewing! Thanks to Guest as well and if you've read this far, know that yes, there will be Daddy Dylan and baby daughter interactions absolutely!